Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 54 ( Chapter 54 )

54

 

I listen closely to the voice of my troubled heart

"What in the world was I born to do..."

 

I didn't plan on falling asleep. Yohji's voice just trailed off as his fingers played with my hair, and the next thing I knew I was waking up with a delightful sensation between my legs. I murmured a sleepy sound, not even coherent in my own mind, and spread my legs a little wider.

 

Yohji chuckled softly, his lips soft against my balls. He brought his fingers back into play with a fresh coating of oil, pressing them gently into me as he started kissing his way up my shaft.

 

With a groan I thrust upward, wanting that mouth. His hand followed, thrusting up into me with three fingers even as his lips closed around the head of my cock. He fucked me with his hand and pleasured me with his mouth until I thought I'd go mad, or come my brains out, one or the other. Yohji gave one last suck and released my cock, slipping his fingers free moments later.

 

I writhed on the bed, wanting, needing. Yohji crawled up between my legs and placed a hand on either side of my shoulders, bracing himself right above me. “Damn, but you're one sexy sleepyhead,” Yohji purred. “I hope you don't mind, but when you started jacking off in your sleep, I really couldn't help myself.”

 

His surface thoughts showed me exactly what he'd seen, and I felt myself blush. Then his erection brushed against mine, heat against heat, and I reached up to pull him down onto me. Yohji's mouth opened to my own. I could feel him getting into position; I raised my hips a little to help him.

 

But as he slid into me, my mind panicked - we were face to face, I couldn't do this! My body tensed, and pain raced through me as I clenched down on his intruding member. I could barely keep my mind from tearing into his the first time; if we continued like this, I wasn't sure he'd survive it! “Yohji,” I gasped, “I can't! Not like this!”

 

Yohji held perfectly still, neither advancing nor retreating. Then he leaned down and kissed me softly. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “You won't hurt me if you don't look at me, isn't that right? So don't look.”

 

“Please, I'm not sure it'll work,” I moaned, wanting him, needing him, and so damn afraid.

 

He picked up his t-shirt, then regarded me with a curious look. “Trust me,” he said, bringing the shirt up and covering my eyes with it. Gently he eased it under my head, not tying it, but making certain it blocked the light.

 

My excitement returned in spite of my worry, and I gasped at the sudden erotic jolt. I couldn't see - I was at Yohji's mercy, the way Brad would have been at mine. Well, not exactly, but the similarity turned me on in a totally unexpected way. Hot breath preceded another kiss, and I felt my body relax beneath a fine layer of tension.

 

Yohji thrust into me, his strong arms holding him just above me. I could feel his breath, but I couldn't quite reach him now. Then he gripped my hips and lifted, tilting me back into the pillows. His next thrust hit true, pressing against that spot inside and bringing a groan from my throat. He repeated that motion, and my hands clenched in the sheets.

 

Quick kisses fluttered along my neck and chin, and back down to my collarbone. Long fingers teased my nipples, tickled my sides, trailed up to caress my throat and linger there as though feeling my breath hissing in and out in time with the sex. His own breathing grew ragged, and a soft moan floated down to me. Then his hand darted downward, wrapping around my cock and tugging firmly.

 

I focused on my own pleasure, trying not to think of my partner, trying to keep my mind inside my own head. It wasn't too difficult. Yohji ran his thumb over the tip of my cock, once, twice, as he thrust deep inside me, and when his fingers brushed across the head again I felt that inevitable rush well up and I couldn't hold it back. With a breathy cry I came, my cock throbbing in his fist, my ass clenching around him, each sensation intensifying the other; my back arched up off the bed with the force of it.

 

Yohji moaned and his grip tightened on my cock, squeezing as he came. He let his breath out in an almost-whisper too soft for me to catch. The whisper turned into a sigh. Yohji released my cock with one last caress, then lowered himself to lie against my chest. His lips brushed against my own, the kiss now tender and gentle. He lifted the t-shirt away from my eyes, careful to disentangle my hair as he did so.

 

I sighed and smiled, gazing up at him. “I may have to invest in a blindfold,” I murmured. “For the next time.”

 

Yohji smiled and kissed my nose. “Told you this wasn't goodbye.” He looked serious for a moment, but it passed quickly, leaving me uncertain whether I had, in fact, seen it or merely imagined. “Stay the night?”

 

Something he'd said before came back to me, leaving me curious. “I thought you had a one-night-only policy,” I murmured, hoping I wasn't jinxing this but wanting to know.

 

He looked thoughtful, then said, “Well, we had one night. Then you left. Now you're back, we're having one night. No expectations.”

 

“No expectations,” I echoed, pulling him down for another kiss.

 

We lay tangled in each other for several minutes, warm and sleepy and not a little sticky. “You know, it's funny,” I murmured, “but when I go without sex for too long I forget how to think.”

 

Yohji chuckled. “Yeah, me too. Hormones, you think?”

 

“Probably. Endorphins or pheromones or something.”

 

His hand idly caressed my back, and I stretched out beneath his touch. Old memories threatened to surface, but they were currently outnumbered by happy thoughts, thoughts of Yohji and warm, non-negotiated sex. Images of Brad floated up in my mind, and I struggled to set them aside for a little while longer. What I wanted, I couldn't have. He'd made that plain enough. We might have sex, we might flirt, but there was a barrier between his heart and mine, and I didn't know if I'd ever manage to breach it.

 

“What's up?” Yohji asked. “You got all tense again.” He moved to sit beside my hips and gently rolled me onto my belly, then set to work on my shoulders with strong and skilled hands.

 

I sighed. “It's tough, loving a man like Crawford,” I mumbled into the pillow, not sure if he could even hear me. “He's made himself untouchable.”

 

“Few men have the stamina to maintain that kind of lifestyle,” Yohji said. “Tell me, does he open up for anyone?”

 

My internal alarms went off, but that was only a reflex. Brad's heart was really no secret. “Not that I've ever seen. He's very protective of the team, but that's about it.”

 

“Strange. It's almost enough to make me wonder…”

 

“Wonder what?” I asked, turning my head to look back at him.

 

“Nah, if I say it you'll discount it,” Yohji told me with a smile. “I don't know him, after all. How could I tell you a damn thing about him?”

 

What makes a man shut down? I pondered this while Yohji kneaded my back. Brad would almost reach out to me, but he always managed to pull away at the last moment. Well, almost always. There was just enough contact to convince me that there was something between us, something that Brad Crawford resented.

 

My breath caught in my throat. Resented? Or feared?

 

I'd been thinking along Rosenkreuz lines, the power structure, the dynamic of dominance and submission. It was so damn hard to get away from that mindset - you can take the man out of Rosenkreuz, I supposed, but taking Rosenkreuz out of the man was proving to be a tad more difficult. What kind of dynamics did “normal” people have to deal with?

 

What kind of dynamics had I observed, manipulated, scorned, for so many years?

 

“He's afraid I'll leave him,” I whispered, and every sensation of the past hour replayed itself through my mind - all at the hands of another man.

 

Yohji lay down against my back, anchoring me to the world for a moment. He whispered against my ear, “You all right? I didn't mean to bring up something unpleasant, Schuldig. This is supposed to be your mini-vacation, right?” To my silence he said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

I rolled beneath him, and we ended up lying on our sides, facing one another. My fingers toyed with his hair, so long and soft, not at all like Brad's… I shook my head. “I don't know what to do anymore. I've loved him for so long, and he's so distant. Just when I think I have him figured out, something else goes wrong.”

 

“And you're feeling guilty for being with me,” Yohji whispered. His hand rose to caress my cheek, an unexpectedly tender gesture. “I don't like men who hit. You deserve better than that.”

 

I stared into his eyes, startled by the protective urgency there. “Yohji…”

 

“Shhh.” He rested a finger across my lips. “You deserve better.”

 

All manner of explanations whirled through my head, and I realized how lame they were, each and every one. He needs me, I love him, it's because I make him angry, he can't help himself…a litany of ignorance. If it were Nagi, I would demand that he never saw the creep again.

 

But…those were the rules for “normal” people.

 

We were Rosenkreuz, like it or not. Psi-talents, assassins, specialists of a high order. Brutality within the ranks was to be expected, just as dogs may fight to assert dominance. Supermen? What a laugh. We were dogs, each and every one of us.

 

Yohji brushed his fingers across my cheek and I realized I was crying, exhausted, defeated tears that had lain dormant for so very long. I wept for the child I had been, the (twelve year old?) boy who loved football and rock music before being taken into the bosom of Esset and made into another (whore) killer with a broken soul.

 

I, deserve better? Better than a violent-tempered man who resorts to his fists when pushed to his limits? Better than my team leader, the rightful claimant for everything I had or was or might become? Christ, I'd fought them for so damn long and they were already inside my head!

 

I lay against Yohji until the storm passed and my breathing returned to normal. When rational thought was again possible, I looked at myself and my image of Brad for a long moment, trying to decipher what was true and what was perception.

 

One memory rose up, hovered as though wondering if I would notice it. I'd returned to the team after that disastrous outing with Nagi, after Yohji had patched me up. (Einmal Rosen, immer Rosen...) Brad had been so dark, so dominant, so very much the man they had made him to be.

 

And yet… (“Schuldig, don't ask. Whatever you're thinking right now, don't ask it.”)

 

And yet… (“You're mine. I'll share if I have to, because that's part of who you are, but where it counts, you're mine. Never forget, and never doubt it, Schuldig. No matter what happens.”)

 

And yet… (“Brad, do you love me?”)

 

I had rarely seen fear in Brad Crawford's eyes, but that day it had nearly screamed out at me.

 

What had they done to him?

 

“Yohji, I…”

 

“You're going back to him.” He regarded me with sad, wise eyes, eyes that had seen too much.

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't be. It's not like we're married.” Yohji reached for his smokes.

 

“We're Rosenkreuz, Yohji. Nothing can change that, until we find a way out on our own.” That didn't excuse Brad's fits of temper, or mine, for that matter, but it did explain much, at least to my own mind. “I'll miss you, though,” I added, my voice cracking a little.

 

“Then visit from time to time,” Yohji whispered, his gaze steady. “It's not like you two are married either. Give him the loyalty he deserves, but make sure to take some time for you. I'll be here.”

 

“Then I'll visit,” I replied, “though I can't say when.”

 

“Can't or won't?” he asked, and for a moment I thought he was being serious.

 

Then I caught the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and I laughed. “I don't share my travel plans with Weiß. Besides, it's all spontaneous.”

 

“I like spontaneous,” Yohji murmured, discarding his just-lit cigarette and drawing me into his embrace.