Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 92 ( Chapter 92 )

92

 

Dein Leben dreht sich nur im Kreis,

so voll von weggeworfener Zeit.

Deine Träume schiebst Du endlos vor dir her...

 

Evening found me nursing a sunburn in Yohji's bathtub. We'd driven around for hours with no sign of my questing teammate, or of his prey, for that matter. Yohji had kept a lookout for a familiar motorcycle just in case: “Ken's not supposed to be riding anymore, but that wouldn't necessarily stop him. Stubborn ass.” We were both quite relieved to find neither of them on the streets - but then, that was daytime.

 

After dinner and some rest, we'd already planned to go out again and survey the city by night.

 

I lay back in the tub, wallowing in the soothing coolness. I had felt a little silly putting my hair up in a series of knots for the occasion, but neither I nor Yohji knew what the vinegar in the water might do to it, and I was not about to tempt fate. Bad enough it was turning colors on its own, like fall drifting towards winter. With my luck the vinegar would turn it green, which, while fashionable, was completely contrary to my nature.

 

The water felt good, an unfamiliar luxury in my increasingly mapless life. For a few minutes I indulged a fantasy that placed Yohji and me in a small flat in Amsterdam, living the artists' life though neither of us really qualified. The thought made me smile. We could have made it good, I was sure of that.

 

Then the thought occurred to me: what do we do when the fighting's over? Surely Brad had it in the works to put an end to it sooner or later! Nagi had already voiced his desire to see Esset buried in history; how could it not be possible?

 

If Brad found a way to take them down for good, to deliver a final stroke to the moving corpse that was Esset, what then?

 

What would happen to the team?

 

In theory, if Esset did not exist, neither would Schwarz. The team was part of Esset, no matter how far away we put ourselves. Could one survive without the other?

 

Then the darker thought came, squeezing tears from the corners of my eyes. Would Schwarz exist long enough to see this through? Already we had misplaced Farfarello, our fiercest warrior. What were we now, but three-fourths of a team?

 

Correction: Brad had sent half the team away. Right now, he and Nagi were Schwarz.

 

What was I?

 

I swallowed against the emotions, reached out to drain the tub. My right shoulder twinged, more strongly than it had in months. I cursed myself for an idiot; I'd hardly moved it while in the car, no wonder it hurt. Between that and the sunburn, I felt pretty stupid at the moment.

 

At least the pain let me forget my deeper musings.

 

Yohji met me with a bottle of fruit water as I left the bathroom. “How's the burn?”

 

Seeing as I was clad only in a towel, I gave him a sardonic glance and asked, “How do you think it is? It sucks. But not as bad as before the bath.”

 

Yohji leaned in and kissed me quickly. “Drink up. I don't want you passing out from sunstroke, that would be kind of pathetic.”

 

I held the bottle in my right hand and wrapped my left arm around Yohji, pulling him closer. “Yeah, I'll drink up,” I murmured, seeking his mouth again. That one little kiss was not what I wanted. I wanted to lose myself in him, find myself in him, steal just one more moment before reality took me back.

 

Yohji smiled against my lips and untied my towel.

 

“No fair,” I chuckled, moving back just enough to see his eyes.

 

“All's fair,” he replied with that rakish grin, his hands dancing along my spine.

 

I sighed and let the sensations wash over me, more soothing than any bath. I was such a glutton for touch! Always had been, really, just never had a safe outlet for it. Well, other than Karl and Sergei, but those touches had been rushed and desperate, like my entire life up till now.

 

Yohji trailed his fingers lower, cupping my ass and holding me close to him. He kissed me again, deeply, and I sighed into him. One hand slipped around and tickled my growing erection, teasing along its length before gripping right below the head and tugging. I moaned into Yohji's mouth, wishing I wasn't holding onto a slippery-cold bottle of fruit water.

 

As though I had projected that thought, Yohji paused, relieved me of my drink, and set it on the floor before kneeling in front of me, his expression pure mischief. He ran his fingers through the chilly condensation on the bottle, then caressed my cock. I gasped, feeling myself surge to full hardness at the unexpected sensation.

 

Still grinning, Yohji took a mouthful of the cold fruit water, then locked his lips around my cock.

 

My hands clenched in his hair. I'd never had the chance to be so playful at sex before; this was fantastic! The cold liquid and his hot mouth sent shivers through me. Distantly I realized how long it had been since I'd done anything sexual, even by myself. No wonder I was already near the edge!

 

Yohji swallowed the water, released me long enough to take another swig. The cool air against my overheated cock felt amazing - and then he touched the bottle to my balls. I cried out, then bit my lip as the contrary touches of hot and cold rolled through me. His mouth closed around me again, one hand teased my skin with the chill damp of the bottle, while his other hand trailed droplets of water along my thigh.

 

My hips moved of their own volition, thrusting against the cold, the heat, the intensity building with every movement. As Yohji ran cold fingers along my balls, I groaned and fell into the rising tide. Every muscle tensed, nearly vibrating with the intensity of climax. Months of frustrated tension, of fear, of barely-held hopes - all crashed together with the fury of forever. I came so hard I felt light-headed and had to cling to Yohji's shoulders for support.

 

Gently, carefully, Yohji guided me to sit on the floor with him, even arranged the discarded towel for a cushion. I grinned sheepishly at him, honestly surprised at myself for going off so quickly.

 

As I opened my mouth to say something, Yohji put the bottle of fruit water back in my hand.

 

I burst out laughing.

 

Yohji kissed me softly. “Drink your water. You've, ah, lost some fluid.”

 

“Pervert.” I raised the bottle, thought about all the fun it had had, and grinned around it as I drank. “Do you have any more of these in the fridge? I may want to return the favor.”

 

“I've got fun in the freezer, too.”

 

I felt my eyebrow go up at that. “Do tell?”

 

But Yohji shook his head. “If you're not too tired later, I'll show you.”

 

As he got up, I reached out to give him a squeeze. He wasn't hard. Not anymore, anyway: the front of his pants bore a telltale wet spot. I smirked up at him. He grinned down at me. “Come on,” he said, offering me a hand up. “Let's get some food and hit the road. It's a clear night, should make for easy hunting.”

 

I let him haul me up, but my mind seemed determined to stay on the floor. My head reeled; I clung to Yohji for balance, nearly toppling back over in the process.

 

“Whoa! You okay?” Yohji searched my face for an answer before I could speak. “You're not sun-sick, are you?”

 

“No,” I gasped, “I'm all right. Just a little head rush.” I considered my options, growling at myself for being so off-stride. It was just an orgasm, for gods' sake! A fantastic orgasm, but still, nothing to faint over. “I think I need to sit down. Bed's closer, right?”

 

Yohji nodded, his expression worried. He guided me to the bedroom, sat me down on the bed, squatted down in front of me. “You going to be all right? I need to wash up a little.”

 

I nodded, wished I hadn't. My internal gyroscope bitched like hell at that. Carefully I raised the near-empty bottle of fruit water. “I'll be fine. Let me finish this, maybe have three or four more, I'm good to go.”

 

“I'm trusting you on that.” Yohji stood, kissed me on the forehead, then headed for the bathroom.

 

I sighed and shut my eyes. That wasn't a good thing to do either: reality spun in a slow counter-clockwise fashion, with a slight wobble that seemed in time with my pulse. Opening my eyes, I watched an explosion of sparkles drift apart and fade before the room came back into view.

 

Memories rose up as though pulled by an unseen moon: hints, whispers, arguments. Brad telling me to stay away from doctors, after that bout of pneumonia. Brad reminding me there were safe medics in Japan, though implying Far would be their patient. That stupid seaweed tea.

 

“Schuldig, whatever you just decided, don't do it. Don't ask, just promise me.”

 

“All right, I promise. Can you tell me­-”

 

“I said don't ask!”

 

I swallowed hard. My spit tasted metallic, the flavor of panic.

 

Was something wrong? With me?

 

“Fucking cigarettes,” I muttered, willing myself not to shudder. I didn't listen. Trembling violently, I forced myself to finish the fruit water, no longer caring how intimately the bottle and I had been acquainted only minutes ago. This was stupid. If I had something wrong, Brad wouldn't have told me not to go to a doctor, that would be cruel!

 

A brief flash of memory shot through my head, breaching in a wake of pain. I was just a little kid, at the family doctor's for a check-up.

 

He knew I was a telepath. It was just one of our nasty little secrets.

 

Doctors were a direct line to Esset.

 

“Hey, you didn't pass out on me, did you?” Yohji's voice preceded him into the room. He flashed me a smile, tossed his soiled pants into the wash basket.

 

I forced a calmness on myself that I didn't truly feel. “I'm good. I don't know if I'm up for what's in your freezer, though. This water thing was pretty damn intense!”

 

Yohji pulled on a pair of jeans and sat next to me on the bed, draping an arm across my shoulders. “No worries, I'm not addicted to gimmicks. You're plenty sexy enough without it.” His breath tickled behind my ear.

 

I struggled to keep my emotions under control, something I'd perfected long ago only to see it shatter here in this haven. Fear could have no place in me without taking everything I'd fought for. I couldn't decipher Brad's intentions, I needed to just leave them aside and not think about them. That way lay madness, and I'd already been close enough to that hallowed land to want to steer clear of it. I imagined Karl, sitting in Yohji's place, imposing his own profound and gentle calm upon me, siphoning off my restless, groundless fear and granting me a moment of precious sanity.

 

Strong arms wrapped me in safety and warmth, and I rebuilt myself within them.

 

Normalcy reasserted itself in quiet ways. Mingled scents of skin and sex and sweat anchored me to this moment, layered on a backdrop of denim and linen. Yohji's hair smelled like peaches, the shampoo freshened by a quick rinse that left his hair in damp ringlets against his neck. You didn't have the smell of peaches in Rosenkreuz. It was one of the forgotten things, things belonging to another time and place.

 

To another self.

 

The coarse memory from my childhood slid back into the depths where it belonged, taking the last of the pain with it.

 

In silence we finished dressing. Afterward, I allowed Yohji to guide me through a semblance of dinner. He seemed to acknowledge my quiet for something I sorely needed, not pushing me to speak or to listen. We polished off some leftovers, then readied ourselves for another round of searching. Two handguns and an assassin's watch - would that be enough to stop Farfarello, if we found him in the middle of business?

 

I added that to my growing list of things not to think about.

 

The night sky flew above us, we flew below, racing the highway to the places that might call to the mad: churches, cemeteries, missions, abandoned buildings. I cautiously let my mind drift, tasting for a resonance of familiar lunacy; I found none. I sensed or imagined other minds searching for mine, however. That brought me back within my shields, a stronger position than it had been in a long time.

 

As though feeling the defenses lock down, Yohji glanced at me and asked, “Everything all right?”

 

“Yeah. I don't think we're alone out here, though.” I hadn't been able to get a fix on the interference, and still wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it.

 

“Probably not,” Yohji murmured. “I'd be surprised if they didn't have agents in Japan, whether they're looking for anyone or not. It's their territory, after all. Bought and paid for.”

 

I frowned, suddenly uneasy.

 

Yohji snorted a sigh and growled, “Takatori sold his own people. People who trusted him. People who didn't have the power to say no.” His jaw clenched against more words, forbidding them their own freedom, but I heard them all the same. ::Takatori…blood's unclean. But that's foolish. Each man makes his own destiny.:: Aloud, he stated, “I get the feeling that once they're entrenched, they're damn hard to get rid of. Like bugs.”

 

“Kind of like that, yeah.” I leaned back and watched the stars do absolutely nothing. They refused to move for the will of man, blazing defiantly against a backdrop of nothingness.

 

Was that why Nagi had loved them so? Because even he couldn't make them move?

 

Could he now?

 

Add another to that list… I caught myself yawning; the odd and troubled thoughts of the evening rose up in a gibbering wave, promising uneasy dreams. I wasn't ready to admit defeat and revisit any of those thoughts. Instead I reminded myself that sleep in Yohji's arms would be proof against such fears. Karl had possessed such magic; I willed Yohji to have the same.

 

By the time we returned to the apartment and made our way to bed, the stars had all vanished in the light of dawn.

 

We still hadn't found Farfarello.

 

 

 

 

A/N:

Dein Leben dreht sich nur im Kreis,

so voll von weggeworfener Zeit.

Deine Träume schiebst Du endlos vor dir her...

 

Your life is just spinning round

(it's) so full of wasted time

You brush your dreams endlessly aside...

 

“Kein Zurück” - Wolfsheim Casting Shadows

 

Schuldig seems to do so much better when he isn't thinking, doesn't he? The moment he pauses to consider his circumstances, he finds himself surrounded by shadows and phantoms, memories and monsters. He craves happiness so desperately, and yet seems unable to accept it without payment. Another leftover attitude courtesy of Rosenkreuz, perhaps? It does seem to be a common problem…