Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Dirty ❯ Realization ( Chapter 2 )

Title: Dirty.

Disclaimers: No, no and no, I do not own, I just like to play with the boys. Don't sue, you'll get a couple of Monopoly paper dollars.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Yohji and Aya come to terms with their unstable relationship with the unintentional help of an unwelcome rival.

AN: Enjoy the sequel to Dark Release. R&R, don't be too harsh on me. ^_^

Chapter 2: Realization.

The slender body undulated under him, sleek limbs bent in animalistic movements. He was engulfed by a clenching heat and with a soft hiss; he began to thrust into the willing body. He stared at the face intently, drinking in the white skin shimmering with sweat, the soft lips that gasped softly and moaned wantonly. He saw delicate angle of the aquiline nose that took in deep breaths and the rosy hued cheekbones that stretched when he opened his mouth wider to scream. Once again he tasted the swollen lips, running a languid tongue lightly against the soft flesh, the pale man beneath him responded in a muffled moan and long fingered white hands dug into the mounds his ass, urging him deeper into Aya.

His narrow hips moved faster, and a soft groan came from parted pink lips, yet the sounds of pleasure that he made seemed distant, grotesquely displaying some false ecstasy.

Heavy lidded eyes trembled gently and the thick arc of lashes opened slowly, to reveal dull amethyst orbs.

Yohji finally got his answer. In just that brief moment Aya's mask slipped and he got a glimpse of what the smaller man was really feeling. He had a chance to plunge into the most intimate parts of Aya, and for a second, he was struck numb, his body frozen. Aya's hands ran over his back as he drew Yohji into an embrace, his head lolled back, a poor resemblance of a broken porcelain doll. He sighed gently, Yohji's eyes widened considerably as he realized that it was a sigh of relief, relief that he had stopped fucking Aya, it was like the other man was taking a moment of rest to resume an unbearable torture once again.

As if grasping the fact that Yohji had really stopped, he looked at Yohji, a clearly puzzled expression in his face; he shifted suggestively against the erect cock that was still buried inside him. Yohji chose to ignore it and Aya's frown deepened; a tanned hand was lifted to seize a pointed chin. Aya stared impassively, waiting for Yohji to say something and give an excuse regarding the fact that he had stopped in the middle of sex.

Yohji's breath hitched and with determination he began to move again, snapping his hips forcefully impaling the white form, still everything he had been looking for was screaming loudly from the violet orbs, pleading to be revealed. There was no denying it and in those eyes there only was cold detachment and pain, so much pain. Even as Aya whispered his name and clutched him tighter convulsing in the throes of a violent orgasm, Yohji could see the poorly hidden irritation lurking behind an immaculate cold blanket of resigned tolerance. It was a shocking truth that Yohji refused to accept, he told his mind repeatedly that Aya loved him, still he couldn't block out the pain and agony that was slowly seeping through him. He had been a fool, a selfish romantic to believe that Aya could care for him at all, and he had thought that their encounters in the bed had been out of mutual lust and love, yet he noticed that it was like a cheesy soap opera and that Aya was the sacrificing maiden, fate was a bitch and he had to acknowledge it. Aya was hurting because he had been afraid to tell Yohji how he really felt. Now Yohji knew.

Aya was staring at him again, a guarded expression on his face and with reason as Yohji acknowledged that this had been the strangest experience they'd ever had in bed. Aya moved uncomfortably angling his hips and pressing closer against him, a dead voice broke the silence, "You're still hard."

Yohji's smile was bitter and a rage was steadily building inside him, he tilted his head, as if contemplating the truth of Aya's statement, he plunged inside with a forceful thrust, ignoring Aya's sharp intake of breath, was his lover feeling pain? Yohji admitted that he didn't care if that was the case. He smiled nastily at the wide eyed man sprawled under him. "Hmmm, I guess I am. We have to do something about that don't we?"

His cock throbbed inside the muscled ring of flesh; twitching in need. He began to thrust again, ruthlessly pounding into his lover. Aya's eyes rolled to the back of his head, displaying only the vivid white of the sclera, sharp teeth pierced the pouty lower lip and a gurgled moan of pain came from him. The bed rocked with Yohji's forceful movements and Aya's muscled legs wrapped tightly around him, taking some sort of punishment and accepting the pain that Yohji was causing him, a weak sob escaped him and he twisted his head into the pillow. Yohji stiffened and the pleasure that followed was a dry and meaningless feeling, he lay atop Aya, damp dark blond hair clung to his face. Aya pushed back the errant strands and ran his fingers over Yohji's face. Guilt barreled into him and he found himself asking his confused lover, "Are you alright?"

He was graced with a brief nod and he pulled out of Aya with a slight wince, he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out some tissues to clean them both. Aya replied with a grateful grunt as he wiped the sticky mess of his cum from both their chests and lower bodies. They both lay side by side, no touching or cuddling this time, it had all been different and more violent, there was less emotion, only a monotonous performance and it wasn't enough.

……………………… ….

She lay motionless on the carefully made bed, her scalp parted in a clean, straight line that ended into neatly pleated braids hanging artfully on either side of her head, dark hair curling around her heart shaped face. The slim bar of gold pierced into her snowy ear contrasted against the sable curtain of her braids. A thin hospital sheet covered her fragile form concealing the IV tube that was punctured into her right arm.

He stood at the foot of the bed, thin lips drawn back into a menacing smile. He could feel her power surging through his mind, though dormant, it still possessed the level of a powerful psychic. That mock assassination had fitted their purposes after all, it had cut her off from the world and it had given them an opportunity to meddle and search through her nearly dead mind. Her memory had already been thoroughly erased, all thanks to him and now came the simplest part of it all. He closed his eyes, attempting to muster enough concentration to carry through the task and trying to calm his rising excitement. Oh there would be pain, there would be so much of it, and he would be right there reaping the aftershocks. He could feel the low hum begin to build, slowly and steadily, like a carefully measured and timed tsunami.

"Wakey, wakey," he murmured gently and sent a vicious jolt through her helpless mind. Her body arched violently off the bed, twisting at a gruesomely inhuman angle, the sheet slid from her body revealing small, childlike breasts and pale boyish limbs. She jerked once more, her lids opened, the almost translucent whites of her eyes visible and almost blinding. The dry lips parted in a needy gasp and white hands scraped brutally at the air. He laughed; a low husky sound and just stood there, examining her reaction to his ministrations with glee. Then she stopped moving and was still on the bed.

"I know you're awake, rise and shine beautiful," he said; almost happily.

It was as if her upper body rose out of its own volition, her head tossed back as if she was a limp rag doll. Then she moved, almost too fast for the human eye to see. Skinny hands gripped his throat with a bruising force, squeezing angrily; bony fingers sinking into his jugular. He smiled through the haze of pain, reading through her terrifying panic and confusion.

He sent another spike of pain into her mind and she fell to the cold floor, a mass of bones curled into a tight trembling ball. He wanted to rip her brain to shreds, it called to him, and it excited him to no ends. He crouched down beside her, her eyes were closed now, they had only opened once and he felt that something was terribly wrong.

He shook her gently and like a horrified rabbit she scurried away, dragging her thin body on the hard floor.

"Who are you?" It wasn't a question; it was an evidently confused plea.

"A friend," he replied smoothly.

"Who am I?"

"Aya."

That seemed to appease her to some extent, she cocked her head to the side and in a quick motion her eyes opened. He was transfixed, staring into the brilliant white of those orbs, she leaned forward and touched his face gingerly, her hand threading through his long hair.

"I like red hair," she said simply, almost wistful, "it reminds me of someone."

"You can see me?" he asked incredulously.

"Why wouldn't I be able to?" it was a rhetorical question, at least to her, "I can also feel you, it's like seeing you in a different perspective"

He pointed towards the tiny mirror at on the otherwise plain wall. She looked at him again, those white eyes blinking slowly, but she stood up shakily, not without his help. She walked sure-footedly towards the glass and upon reaching it she stopped, touching her cheeks, forehead, nose, lips and lastly, her eyes.

"I did what I could," he said gently.

She opened her mouth and screamed.

……………………

He stared dumbly at the mutilated rose, then back at his own hand that held the pruning shears. He shook his head and threw it to the floor, next to the pile of disfigured roses. Aya stripped off the gardening gloves and raked a hand through his hair in irritation, he'd been as stupid as he could be. He just couldn't be near Yohji, not when everything had been going on for so long. The events of the previous night kept running through his confused mind, he replayed the scenes over and over looking for a loophole, a clue. Something happened, he didn't know what it was and it was driving him crazy. He had to admit that once again he was to blame; if he hadn't gone to the blonde's room a few nights ago then none of this would have occurred. If only he had remained in his room and ignored the sense of solitude and longing in his body, then Yohji would have still been dead to the world today, sleeping off a night of debauchery instead of getting up early with a lecherous grin on his face and watching Aya's every move keenly. They were back to square one with the usual bonus of fantastic fucking, the nuisance of Aya's new found feelings and Yohji's odd behavior.

Soft green eyes watched the slim redhead, today like the days before Aya had wasted two dozen flowers on purpose. If it had been Yohji, he wouldn't care but this was focused, tidy Aya. Something was wrong and he was going to find out. Yohji had always prided himself in understanding people, correction, in understanding women. Aya sure as hell wasn't a woman. Yohji figured that his mind was still numb; he still refused to come to terms with that dispassionate look on Aya's face last night. He wanted to remain blind to it all, yet he wished that Aya would have told him the truth long ago, instead of leading him on a fairy tale that would end in a bloodbath. There was also the problem of Aya's nightmares and restless slumber; he called out the names of places in his mind and he was constantly calling out for his sister, and the puzzling fact was that he spoke them in a foreign language. They had gotten worse; Aya could no longer sleep and demanded constant sex from Yohji, although he wasn't complaining; he had no desire to be used like whore. Aya denied his dreams; it was as if he even forgot them. If Yohji didn't know the swordsman, he might have said that he was fucking crazy. Aya would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and then with dilapidated, void eyes would ask Yohji, "Why are you staring at me like that?" then return to sleep only to repeat the act again. Yohji was at his wits end and so it seemed, was Aya, it had to be if the redhead had allowed Yohji to see what he truly felt after successfully hiding it during all the months of their affair. He wasn't loved, that was okay. Aya just viewed him as a tool for absolution and pleasure and again Yohji told himself that was okay. His eyes stung, and that too was okay. He made his way over to the oblivious pale man.

"Oi Ayan, are you okay?"

He saw the slack form jump at the sound of his voice, pale face forlorn and sullen; he tried to suppress the frown that was beginning to mar his features.

"Aya?" Yohji stared at his lover, violet eyes were fixed on something invisible, unseeing and slowly reason came back into them as if he recognized Yohji for the first time. Thinly hidden behind amethyst irises he was annoyance then the dullness of resignation and agony. Yohji was startled as a thought slithered into his mind; he noticed that it was the same expression Aya always wore after they'd had sex. His mouth flattened into a thin line and he shook Aya firmly.

"What?" came the automatic reply, never losing a degree in its mechanical frigidity.

"What's wrong?"

"Go away Yohji."

Yohji gritted his teeth at the chilly tone of voice, yep they were back to normal, "C'mon, were going upstairs."

Obviously his stubborn lover took it as an invitation for something else and his eyes narrowed in anger, "No."

Yohji sighed, patience, he had to be patient, "Not for _that_ Aya."

"It always ends up in _that_" he spat.

Why was it that the lack of emotion on Aya's face always got to him? Aya knew it and that's why he did it. Yohji thought he'd had a glimpse into the complex makings of the swordsman that night a few months ago in that shabby apartment, but it was just a phase Aya had been going through. He wondered if Aya thought him stupid, oh yes, they both enjoyed fooling around with each other but that was where Aya really drew the line. Yohji accepted his own idiocy, he'd told Aya how he really felt and for a while he thought Aya felt so too. He'd been damned wrong. He was drawn from his thoughts as he heard the clatter of the shears as they fell to the floor. Aya spared him one last look and headed towards the greenhouse leaving the table scattered with petals, stems and bits of ribbon. Another thing that meticulous Aya wouldn't have done.

"Wait."

He followed his hotheaded lover into the stifling space of the greenhouse, he grabbed Aya by the shoulders and spun him around, the smaller man snarled at him and stood defiantly. Yohji knew that stance, Aya was ready to swing at him, if things got out of hand there was gonna one hell of a fight because he was going to find out what had got up Aya's ass, even if he had to beat it out of the obstinate prick.

On the other hand………..

He only took notice of the slight widening of the almond shaped eyes before he draped an arm around Aya waist and drew him close, the slender body in his arms stiffened but Yohji took no notice, he pressed his lips firmly against Aya's. Even when the man was unresponsive he tasted sweet, Yohji licked the corner of the closed lips before kissing him again, more forcefully this time.

Tapered fingers curled around the sides of his shirt and with a vengeful force pushed him away, nearly sending him toppling into the shelves of potted plants.

"Leave me alone, I'm not something you can screw whenever the weather suits you Kudoh," Aya said coolly, his voice contrasting with the black rage in his eyes, he was trembling, appearing to have trouble controlling the wild anger that had suddenly crashed on him.

Yohji stared at him, dumbfounded, before he felt his own anger rise at being treated like this, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted, "A few days ago you were just fine with me, _you_ were the one who came to me in the middle of the night. I mean, fuck," Yohji yanked on his hair, gripping the strands tightly, "I love you but I can't deal with this if I don't know what crawled up your ass."

Aya sneered, "Sure you do."

Yohji glared at him for the smart comment, "I don't, fill me in."

"You know what's wrong," Aya's voice was low, angry, "you see it every night after I'm with you."

Yohji stood motionless, "Maybe I do."

Aya just looked back at him, anger fading away from his eyes and leaving them dead and half dazed, "Then do something about it."

Why was it that Yohji hated silences? Because during the stillness people thought and made drastic decisions and he knew that Aya could take drastic to another level with his own paranoia. It seemed to be the case now. The door to the green house creaked loudly and Omi's face popped in, he was smiling but his eyes had no trace or amusement in them. Aya turned to Omi, a question evident on his face.

Omi nodded, "Mission." Then he was gone.

Just like that Aya put his life on hold to kill someone, it was amazing how he could shut down and go into Abyssinian mode and no one could take him out of it. Aya spared him a sideways glance, "Let's go."

There was no, "we'll talk later," just Aya's short vocabulary stating that their conversation was over and God help Yohji if he brought it up again. Yohji's hands clenched, one thing was certain, they were both back to square on and there seemed to be a roadblock, but fuck if he didn't get them both through it. He wasn't letting go of Aya, he just wasn't. Aya strode towards the front door and began to close shop, pretending he wasn't there. Yohji looked around and shrugged lightly, then moved towards the door that led to their basement, all the while he felt the heat of the violet eyes that followed him, and it burned through his clothes and his very soul, most of all, it burned through his heart.

………………….

He stood outside the café, wondering if he should enter and wishing he didn't have to. The September breeze chilled him yet reminded him that he was still able to feel. His footsteps seemed too loud in his ears and his breathing too hurried. He saw him through the large glass window before he entered, long hair whipped around and a smirk welcomed him. The gaijin shook his head at him, and got up, throwing a few bills on the table. He smiled as he got nearer.

[Lets get out of here.]

He hated that nasal voice; he hated it in his dreams and in his life and feared having to deal with it even in death. They moved together, walking at a leisurely pace in surprisingly easy synchronization. They strolled through the multitude as if admiring the sights and he saw a mocking smile on the long haired man's face, which soon grew into a cynical twist of the lips and a lady near them screamed in pain. Hmm, someone was having fun. Yet they kept walking.

They came to a halt at another café, he sighed wondering how long he'd have to put up with the idiot. Both of them entered; this one was more lavish, expensive, he noticed as they were ushered into a secluded booth. Yet he forced himself to ignore his surroundings wondering when they would get it over with. Lime green eyes stared into his own, a mixture of anticipation and amusement dancing in their depths.

The man took out a cigarette and lit it, prolonging whatever he had to tell him. They sat in silence as the other man smoked; he had to tolerate this, if he didn't then it would all be worthless.

[Not all katzchen, you still have a debt to repay.]

He nodded in acknowledgement, his passive demeanor waning, "Tell me."

That infuriating smirk came again, "She's not dead."

He shivered, "I know, you told me last week. Don't let her die."

"Ch' I'm better than that, I won't, besides, you have something I want."

He knew this was coming, Aya closed his eyes and leaned back into his booth, "What?"

Schuldig laughed softly, "Balinese."

Aya smiled sadly, he was an idiot for hoping that the German wanted something else, for hoping that the German wanted him instead of Yohji, because even now he wasn't sure of his ability to let Yohji go without fighting back. He had seen the hunger in Schuldig's eyes before, he had seen how he looked at Yohji during the times when Weiss was unfortunate enough to encounter Schwarz during missions, and he knew it because the look on the German's face was the same one he didn't allow himself to show, but inside he burned for Yohji. The blonde was his.

"No."

"What was that? Too bad, she'll die."

Aya took a deep breath, this was his sister whom he'd thought dead; he loved her. It had been a shock to hear that, mostly from his enemy. Schuldig had been paying him dream visits for a month now, yet everything they spoke about Aya always forgot. He suspected it was the German's doing.

[Correct.]

This morning he had awoken with a sense of urgency and Schuldig's voice filled his head, only one sentence had been repeated over and over: "She's awake."

It had triggered his memories and he remembered those tormenting dreams. Aya-chan was alive and awake and her brother was an assassin, a traitor and he was about to make a deal with the devil himself to see her once more. It never seemed to end, his cycle of self-sacrifice. Why hadn't the German wanted him instead? It was easier to give himself up than to give up something he cherished instead.

[Sorry but you're already too fucked up, I wanna do the breaking and the fucking to Yohji myself. What will it be?]

"Fine, watch over her." Aya slid out of his seat, the man's chuckle drew his attention, "what?" he asked peevishly.

[We've got company.]

Aya faced the door and his heart plummeted at the sight of Yohji standing at the door, with murder written in his eyes. Aya glared at Schuldig, the man grinned at him.

[Just wanted to spice things up a bit. The back door is through the kitchens to your left. Have fun]

Aya gave him a distressed look and fled with Kudoh hot on his heels. He could still hear Schuldig's laughter echoing in his mind.

To be continued…………….

AN: ok rushed through this chapter, I hope you liked it; last chappie will come next week. Please review, I'd love to see at least ten more to finish this ne? ^_^ This story has spelling/grammar errors because I don't have a beta reader, I'm sick of editing my own stories, it gets so boring that I lose my train of thought and inspiration. I simply refuse to edit my stories anymore, if I do, I'll never finish `em.

Ja ne minna!