Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Consorting Afield ❯ My Bad ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Camping: the aftermath. Y/A
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.15.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 393 | Status: Completed
Camping: the aftermath. Y/A
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.15.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 393 | Status: Completed
Notes: We won’t talk about the inspiration for this one…
Consorting Afield
“Aya, come on!” Yohji called through the door that had been slammed in his face. He ought to be worried, concerned, even, that his lover was so angry, but it was so damn funny.
Opening the door, he stepped in their bedroom, standing for minute to watch Aya roughly pull dirty clothes from his duffle bag and throw them in the hamper.
“If you’re mad at anyone, it ought to be Ken,” Yohji pointed out. “Camping was his idea.”
“It wasn’t his idea to have sex in the weeds, Kudou,” Aya snapped at him.
Ouch, last name.
“Come on, baby,” he tried to sweep Aya into his arms only to earn a rough shove and an elbow to his stomach. “Don’t be that way. I’ll scratch it for you.”
His offer was met with a rather potent glare that, despite his building resistance, made him take a step back.
“If you want to live,” Aya said coldly, not looking away, “You’ll go to the store and get me something for this.”
Smarter than some gave him credit for, Yohji turned around and left, determined to get to the drug store quickly before his rather vengeful boyfriend decided he wasn’t worth living.
~*~
Armed with his purchase, tucked securely in a nondescript paper bag, Yohji again approached his bedroom door, which was, again, shut against him. Deciding it wasn’t necessary to knock, he stepped in to find one agitated redhead dusting their dresser.
When a glare was directed at him, he held out the paper bag in defense. Aya stepped forward to take it, only to have Yohji jerk it back.
“I’ll help,” Yohji offered, one hand holding the bag out of reach and the other up near his face. Aya didn’t usually go for the face, but Yohji wasn’t going to risk it. “Only fair since it’s my fault.”
His admission of guilt seemed to pacify the other, and Aya sniffed a bit disdainfully at him and held out a hand.
“I said I was going to help, come on,” Yohji directed. Going around his lover, he took a seat on the painfully neat bed. All the corners were tucked into order, and he would bet his designer jeans that Aya had been cleaning to distract himself.
When Aya only turned to look at him, Yohji waved him over, surprised when the other, with a soft sigh, came to stand in front of him. Yohji snagged one of his belt loops and guided him so that Aya stood between the blonde’s spread knees less than a foot from the bed.
Carefully, Yohji undid the man’s black belt, slipping it off him and setting it aside. Next he went for the button and zipper.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Aya snapped at him.
“Turn around,” Yohji said, trying not to smile. It would be worth his life if Aya found out how much this amused him. “Aya, turn around.”
Another sigh, but Aya did, facing the wall and presenting Yohji with a delectable view of his butt. Free to grin now, Yohji did, as he slipped his hands under the waistband of the loose jeans and pushed them down Aya’s thin hips, letting them fall around his ankles and leaving the redhead in only his gray t-shirt and white briefs.
Yohji rarely had an opportunity to systematically strip his lover. It was usually either accomplished efficiently by Aya or in a tangled mess by both of them in the heat of the moment. Now, though, he had time to run a hand lovingly over a muscular white thigh, run a finger tantalizingly under the leg band of the briefs.
“Stop it,” Aya all but hissed.
Yohji did, but not without a pang of regret and a promise to repeat the process once Aya’s condition had cleared up. Again he fought back a laugh, but he got down to business and took hold of the underwear’s waistband which he lowered to reveal Aya ass, two perfect globes of white, only currently marred by a collection of red bumps and scratches, more bright for Aya’s pale complexion.
The laugh got the better of him, a combination of memory of how it happened and just the fact that it happened to Aya: infallible, exacting, put-together Aya now had poison ivy. On his ass.
“Shut up!” Aya said, jerking away from him. But he couldn’t get far with his pants around his feet, and Yohji managed to catch his arm before he fell, he looked up to see Aya’s stern face suffused with s bright blush of embarrassment.
“Aya, wait, I’m sorry,” he said as earnestly as he could. “Come on, let me help.”
Gently he turned the other back around and pulled down the underwear so it landed softly on top if the jeans. Aya stood stolidly in front of him, staring at the wall, tense and silent, as if enduring a particularly strenuous bout of torture.
Yohji opened the paper bag and took out the tube of anti-itch cream he had bought. Extra-strength; he barely resisted making a joke about it. He doubted Aya would appreciate the humor of it, anyway. Uncapping the cream, he squeezed some on to his finger and gently began to sweep it over Aya’s bottom. He repeated this process several times until a layer of the cream coated the infected area.
Chore done, he got a bit adventurous.
“It’s contagious, you know,” Aya reminded him waspishly.
Yohji just chuckled softly. Pulling away again, more carefully this time, Aya glared at the floor as he pulled up his briefs. He apparently decided the jeans were too much of a hassle and kicked them off. The fact that he left them in middle of the floor was testament to his aggravation.
“Want a pair of my boxers?” Yohji offered, thinking the loose fabric might be better.
“I don’t want anything of yours,” Aya returned, still bristling over the indignity of the situation. And, much to Yohji continued amusement, still blushing, though not a fiercely as before.
Long used to such caustic comments, Yohji refused to snap back. Aya wasn’t really mad, well, he probably was, but he as more embarrassed than anything. He wouldn’t even look at Yohji to glare. Feeling a bit guilty, Yohji got up and went to his lover, getting ahold of him despite the fact that Aya wanted none of it. The blonde went back to the bed, Aya in tow. He sat down against the headboard and pulled the smaller man into his lap so that Aya sat facing him, staring somewhere around Yohji chest instead of meeting his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Yohji said, genuinely so if it made Aya so upset. “If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have talked you into it.”
Aya took a breath, then, with the barest hint of a smile, “You could have brought a blanket at least.”
“Next time.”
“Next time?”
“What? You think a little poison ivy is going to keep us from consorting in the great outdoors?”
“Consorting?” Aya questioned, one eyebrow raised as he finally met Yohji’s eyes.
“Having wild butt sex,” the blonde corrected. “Lots and lots of wild butt sex.”
Aya shoved at his shoulder, but Yohji swept in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.
“So how long will this take to heal, anyway?” he asked.
Aya seemed to ponder the question. “Two weeks, maybe three.”
“Three …” He felt, and looked, horrified. “Are you sure it’s contagious?”
“Very.”
~end~
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Consorting Afield
“Aya, come on!” Yohji called through the door that had been slammed in his face. He ought to be worried, concerned, even, that his lover was so angry, but it was so damn funny.
Opening the door, he stepped in their bedroom, standing for minute to watch Aya roughly pull dirty clothes from his duffle bag and throw them in the hamper.
“If you’re mad at anyone, it ought to be Ken,” Yohji pointed out. “Camping was his idea.”
“It wasn’t his idea to have sex in the weeds, Kudou,” Aya snapped at him.
Ouch, last name.
“Come on, baby,” he tried to sweep Aya into his arms only to earn a rough shove and an elbow to his stomach. “Don’t be that way. I’ll scratch it for you.”
His offer was met with a rather potent glare that, despite his building resistance, made him take a step back.
“If you want to live,” Aya said coldly, not looking away, “You’ll go to the store and get me something for this.”
Smarter than some gave him credit for, Yohji turned around and left, determined to get to the drug store quickly before his rather vengeful boyfriend decided he wasn’t worth living.
~*~
Armed with his purchase, tucked securely in a nondescript paper bag, Yohji again approached his bedroom door, which was, again, shut against him. Deciding it wasn’t necessary to knock, he stepped in to find one agitated redhead dusting their dresser.
When a glare was directed at him, he held out the paper bag in defense. Aya stepped forward to take it, only to have Yohji jerk it back.
“I’ll help,” Yohji offered, one hand holding the bag out of reach and the other up near his face. Aya didn’t usually go for the face, but Yohji wasn’t going to risk it. “Only fair since it’s my fault.”
His admission of guilt seemed to pacify the other, and Aya sniffed a bit disdainfully at him and held out a hand.
“I said I was going to help, come on,” Yohji directed. Going around his lover, he took a seat on the painfully neat bed. All the corners were tucked into order, and he would bet his designer jeans that Aya had been cleaning to distract himself.
When Aya only turned to look at him, Yohji waved him over, surprised when the other, with a soft sigh, came to stand in front of him. Yohji snagged one of his belt loops and guided him so that Aya stood between the blonde’s spread knees less than a foot from the bed.
Carefully, Yohji undid the man’s black belt, slipping it off him and setting it aside. Next he went for the button and zipper.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Aya snapped at him.
“Turn around,” Yohji said, trying not to smile. It would be worth his life if Aya found out how much this amused him. “Aya, turn around.”
Another sigh, but Aya did, facing the wall and presenting Yohji with a delectable view of his butt. Free to grin now, Yohji did, as he slipped his hands under the waistband of the loose jeans and pushed them down Aya’s thin hips, letting them fall around his ankles and leaving the redhead in only his gray t-shirt and white briefs.
Yohji rarely had an opportunity to systematically strip his lover. It was usually either accomplished efficiently by Aya or in a tangled mess by both of them in the heat of the moment. Now, though, he had time to run a hand lovingly over a muscular white thigh, run a finger tantalizingly under the leg band of the briefs.
“Stop it,” Aya all but hissed.
Yohji did, but not without a pang of regret and a promise to repeat the process once Aya’s condition had cleared up. Again he fought back a laugh, but he got down to business and took hold of the underwear’s waistband which he lowered to reveal Aya ass, two perfect globes of white, only currently marred by a collection of red bumps and scratches, more bright for Aya’s pale complexion.
The laugh got the better of him, a combination of memory of how it happened and just the fact that it happened to Aya: infallible, exacting, put-together Aya now had poison ivy. On his ass.
“Shut up!” Aya said, jerking away from him. But he couldn’t get far with his pants around his feet, and Yohji managed to catch his arm before he fell, he looked up to see Aya’s stern face suffused with s bright blush of embarrassment.
“Aya, wait, I’m sorry,” he said as earnestly as he could. “Come on, let me help.”
Gently he turned the other back around and pulled down the underwear so it landed softly on top if the jeans. Aya stood stolidly in front of him, staring at the wall, tense and silent, as if enduring a particularly strenuous bout of torture.
Yohji opened the paper bag and took out the tube of anti-itch cream he had bought. Extra-strength; he barely resisted making a joke about it. He doubted Aya would appreciate the humor of it, anyway. Uncapping the cream, he squeezed some on to his finger and gently began to sweep it over Aya’s bottom. He repeated this process several times until a layer of the cream coated the infected area.
Chore done, he got a bit adventurous.
“It’s contagious, you know,” Aya reminded him waspishly.
Yohji just chuckled softly. Pulling away again, more carefully this time, Aya glared at the floor as he pulled up his briefs. He apparently decided the jeans were too much of a hassle and kicked them off. The fact that he left them in middle of the floor was testament to his aggravation.
“Want a pair of my boxers?” Yohji offered, thinking the loose fabric might be better.
“I don’t want anything of yours,” Aya returned, still bristling over the indignity of the situation. And, much to Yohji continued amusement, still blushing, though not a fiercely as before.
Long used to such caustic comments, Yohji refused to snap back. Aya wasn’t really mad, well, he probably was, but he as more embarrassed than anything. He wouldn’t even look at Yohji to glare. Feeling a bit guilty, Yohji got up and went to his lover, getting ahold of him despite the fact that Aya wanted none of it. The blonde went back to the bed, Aya in tow. He sat down against the headboard and pulled the smaller man into his lap so that Aya sat facing him, staring somewhere around Yohji chest instead of meeting his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Yohji said, genuinely so if it made Aya so upset. “If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have talked you into it.”
Aya took a breath, then, with the barest hint of a smile, “You could have brought a blanket at least.”
“Next time.”
“Next time?”
“What? You think a little poison ivy is going to keep us from consorting in the great outdoors?”
“Consorting?” Aya questioned, one eyebrow raised as he finally met Yohji’s eyes.
“Having wild butt sex,” the blonde corrected. “Lots and lots of wild butt sex.”
Aya shoved at his shoulder, but Yohji swept in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.
“So how long will this take to heal, anyway?” he asked.
Aya seemed to ponder the question. “Two weeks, maybe three.”
“Three …” He felt, and looked, horrified. “Are you sure it’s contagious?”
“Very.”
~end~
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