Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chains ❯ Brave Me ( Chapter 7 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Aya calls Yohji Master for the first time.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.19.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 882 | Visits: 341 | Status: Work In Progress
Aya calls Yohji Master for the first time.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.19.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 882 | Visits: 341 | Status: Work In Progress
Notes: Sorry for the wait. I had to have an extended argument with myself over not laboring the writing, but the Hentai Slug broke it up by tossing a pretty boy into my lap…and, well, here we are!
Gratitude to the reviewers: Thank you Cody Thomas (in your debt, as always–oh, and I just wrote an Aya in an apron for you which will probably post with BLR’s next chapter) for the kinds reviews. Also thanks to Amyeyl and kat716, first for your reviews and second for your defense of my author’s notes (the slug thanks you profusely). To Noizchild, thank you for the time you took to review (and to make a correction); I understand some people do not like notes, and I always try to provide line breaks so that my personal ramblings may be easily skimmed over. I’ve been doing notes for almost ten years, and I don’t intend to toss them out any time soon, but you’re quite welcome to skip over them.
~*~
Chapter Seven: Brave Me
~*~
“Bastard.” Yohji resisted the urge to kick the corpse.
The rattle of chains brought his attention to the dungeon’s other occupant whose presence had been reduced to background noise while Yohji killed.
Thick leather cuffs wrapped thin, raw wrists, attaching them to a large hook in the ceiling and dragging the sleek body upwards so that the ends of the surprisingly delicate feet barely drug against the stonework. The stretch displayed every line of the boy’s body, the narrow forearms, slight bulge of the bicep, diagonal ridges of ribs, dramatic jut of twin hipbones, lean thighs, and that angular jaw. The long trails of his scarlet hair brushed his shoulders as his head dipped forward and was dragged up again. He was in pain, nearly unconscious, and Yohji realized he might have to kill him.
His mind whispered the word euthanasia, and it frightened him. Quickly he shoved Balinese away, unsure if he was shedding the skin of inhumanity or donning a fake fur of human decency. It didn’t matter, as he grasped it as real and put it to immediate work as he examined the redhead.
He wondered how much the boy knew, or could remember. Deciding he had no names and was in no position to gain leverage anyway, Yohji turned to leave him, carefully stepping over Kaimo’s cooling carcass to find the stairs.
“Wait.” It was raspy, low and demanding. But the tone slipped quickly to pleading, “Please wait…”
Yohji came back, anxious and sharply aware that alarms might already be going off. He knew he had to go, but he looked into violet eyes and waited while imaginary sirens ripped through his mind.
“If you,” a cough. The boy tried to turn his head, but his arms were too tightly bound. “If you leave me, they’ll kill her.”
“What?”
“…with you,” his chest heaved as he struggled for air in the awkward position, “I have to go with you.”
“Look–”
“Please,̶ 1; his eyes were desperate but he seemed uncomfortable with the words, as if each was forced reluctantly from him. “Please…Master.”
How the hell was he supposed to say no to that?
~*~
Aya wanted to hold himself upright, to sit at the edge of the seat and be mindful of the blood that was already seeping through the navy jacket his owner had draped over his shoulders. His hands were still bound, but now dropped in front of his body, allowing a tiny shred of modesty as he rested them over his groin which as still rather exposed under the jacket’s hem. Thankfully, the blonde was watching the road and not his disgraceful lack of decorum as he sprawled bonelessly in the leather seat.
He hadn’t been able to walk from the building, and the man had carried him; it was embarrassing, and, worse, it was not the impression he had been ordered to give his new owner. Schuldig had made it painfully clear that Schwartz would be checking on him, and that his infractions could void their agreement. He hadn’t meant to let his owner carry him, or to lay him gently in the passenger seat of his strange car; his body had just betrayed him, too strung out by pain and blood loss and stress. No matter how he wanted to pull himself up right and keep his leaking blood off the car’s expensive seats, it was a losing battle. His head ached in counterpoint to his throbbing muscles and stinging wounds, but the cold rush of wind over him calmed his nerves with its brush of once-familiar freshness. Relaxing against the chilled window where he lay, Aya felt unconsciousness take him.
~tbc~
Notes: Oh that? That’s just condensation. Yohji and Aya are taking a shower and the room’s all . . . hot and wet…wanna leave a review and write your name on the mirror?
Gratitude to the reviewers: Thank you Cody Thomas (in your debt, as always–oh, and I just wrote an Aya in an apron for you which will probably post with BLR’s next chapter) for the kinds reviews. Also thanks to Amyeyl and kat716, first for your reviews and second for your defense of my author’s notes (the slug thanks you profusely). To Noizchild, thank you for the time you took to review (and to make a correction); I understand some people do not like notes, and I always try to provide line breaks so that my personal ramblings may be easily skimmed over. I’ve been doing notes for almost ten years, and I don’t intend to toss them out any time soon, but you’re quite welcome to skip over them.
~*~
Chapter Seven: Brave Me
~*~
“Bastard.” Yohji resisted the urge to kick the corpse.
The rattle of chains brought his attention to the dungeon’s other occupant whose presence had been reduced to background noise while Yohji killed.
Thick leather cuffs wrapped thin, raw wrists, attaching them to a large hook in the ceiling and dragging the sleek body upwards so that the ends of the surprisingly delicate feet barely drug against the stonework. The stretch displayed every line of the boy’s body, the narrow forearms, slight bulge of the bicep, diagonal ridges of ribs, dramatic jut of twin hipbones, lean thighs, and that angular jaw. The long trails of his scarlet hair brushed his shoulders as his head dipped forward and was dragged up again. He was in pain, nearly unconscious, and Yohji realized he might have to kill him.
His mind whispered the word euthanasia, and it frightened him. Quickly he shoved Balinese away, unsure if he was shedding the skin of inhumanity or donning a fake fur of human decency. It didn’t matter, as he grasped it as real and put it to immediate work as he examined the redhead.
He wondered how much the boy knew, or could remember. Deciding he had no names and was in no position to gain leverage anyway, Yohji turned to leave him, carefully stepping over Kaimo’s cooling carcass to find the stairs.
“Wait.” It was raspy, low and demanding. But the tone slipped quickly to pleading, “Please wait…”
Yohji came back, anxious and sharply aware that alarms might already be going off. He knew he had to go, but he looked into violet eyes and waited while imaginary sirens ripped through his mind.
“If you,” a cough. The boy tried to turn his head, but his arms were too tightly bound. “If you leave me, they’ll kill her.”
“What?”
“…with you,” his chest heaved as he struggled for air in the awkward position, “I have to go with you.”
“Look–”
“Please,̶ 1; his eyes were desperate but he seemed uncomfortable with the words, as if each was forced reluctantly from him. “Please…Master.”
How the hell was he supposed to say no to that?
~*~
Aya wanted to hold himself upright, to sit at the edge of the seat and be mindful of the blood that was already seeping through the navy jacket his owner had draped over his shoulders. His hands were still bound, but now dropped in front of his body, allowing a tiny shred of modesty as he rested them over his groin which as still rather exposed under the jacket’s hem. Thankfully, the blonde was watching the road and not his disgraceful lack of decorum as he sprawled bonelessly in the leather seat.
He hadn’t been able to walk from the building, and the man had carried him; it was embarrassing, and, worse, it was not the impression he had been ordered to give his new owner. Schuldig had made it painfully clear that Schwartz would be checking on him, and that his infractions could void their agreement. He hadn’t meant to let his owner carry him, or to lay him gently in the passenger seat of his strange car; his body had just betrayed him, too strung out by pain and blood loss and stress. No matter how he wanted to pull himself up right and keep his leaking blood off the car’s expensive seats, it was a losing battle. His head ached in counterpoint to his throbbing muscles and stinging wounds, but the cold rush of wind over him calmed his nerves with its brush of once-familiar freshness. Relaxing against the chilled window where he lay, Aya felt unconsciousness take him.
~tbc~
Notes: Oh that? That’s just condensation. Yohji and Aya are taking a shower and the room’s all . . . hot and wet…wanna leave a review and write your name on the mirror?