Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Don't Make Me Kill You ❯ Aya has issues ( Chapter 1 )

Weiss Kreuz is owned by Kyoko Tsuchiya and Project Weiss.

Many thanks to Noah and Wedjateye for the edits.

**********

 

“Did he know what a fetish club was when he agreed to take this mission, Yoji?”

 

“Of course he knew what a fetish club was, Ken. Don't make me kill you,” Yoji snapped.

 

“Well, I just ask because he appears to have lost his freaking mind, and I was, you know, casting about for possible causes.”

 

Yoji opened his mouth to vent a severe back-log of frustration when Omi intervened. “Shut up, both of you. This isn't helping.”

 

It didn't seem to be helping, no, but it did pass the time while the three of them stood in front of the locked bathroom door, imploring Aya to come out.

 

They'd gotten the mission this morning, and Aya had seemed fine with it. They were to go to the club, where Yoji would romance a woman recently divorced from a Very Bad Man, trying to dig up some information. And of course Yoji would be the one doing the romancing, since nobody could romance the ladies like Yoji. Aya was his backup at the club. Yoji needed backup because the lady was still being watched by her ex's men, who might try to stop her from going home with a stranger. Or, rather, they might try to stop the stranger from taking her home. That sort of thing tended to get -- impolite.

 

Yoji had chosen Aya as his backup for three reasons. The first was iron-clad: He didn't trust Ken not to laugh. The second was also objectively fair and balanced: No way was he going to a fetish club with Omi. The third reason could perhaps, just possibly be construed as the slightest bit selfish: He wanted to see Aya in fetishwear. Real fetishwear, not just those provocative mission outfits.

 

Was it wrong?

 

Aya had agreed with no qualms. He'd even suggested that Yoji buy them the right apparel, since he wouldn't have time to shop himself. It so happened that Yoji knew just the place (although he was fairly certain Aya would have known where to go, as well -- Aya retained a number of secrets Yoji would love to have at some day). After making some truly exciting purchases, Yoji had fairly skipped home, a smile on his lips and a song in his heart. And just 30 minutes before, he'd handed several appropriate items to Aya, who'd accepted them without comment and gone into the bathroom to change.

 

Apparently Aya liked fetishwear rather less than he or anyone else might have suspected.

 

Ken turned to Yoji again. “He's crazy.”

 

Yoji rolled his eyes. “He's... complicated.”

 

Shaking his head sadly, Ken murmured, “Oh, Yoji. Have things really gotten that bad?”

 

Slightly muffled by the door, Aya's voice sounded. “Fuck you all. I'm not going out in public like this. My ass is hanging out of these tiny little plastic pants, my balls are already starting to sweat, and this shit is so tight you can tell whether or not I'm circumcised.”

 

“Are you?” Ken asked.

 

“Don't make me kill you, you sweaty jock-for-brains son of a bitch.”

 

“It sounds like you're the sweaty one, my friend. And I think I'm pretty safe anyway, since killing me would require you to leave the bathroom, princess.”

 

Omi squeezed his eyes shut in horror. Yoji's eyes went wide and he started shaking his head in frantic negation. They both backed away from the door. Ken rounded on them. “Oh, come on, it's three to one, unless Yoji's too whipped to defend himself.”

 

“Ken, this is a very, very dangerous game you're playing,” Yoji hissed.

 

“Hey, you're the one who bought the pants. I'm just trying to flush his skinny, sweaty ass out of the bathroom” -- Ken turned back to face the door and raised his voice -- “so we can, as your high-strung prima donna of a boyfriend so often says, get on with the mission!”

 

“Thanks for the help, Ken,” Yoji muttered. “Don't help again soon, OK?” He approached the door again. “Aya, they're supposed to be tight. They're latex. Have you ever seen loose latex pants? It isn't done. Besides, I'm sure you look totally hot.”

 

He heard Aya snort angrily.

 

“Aya, we'll blend in once we're there. Hell, we'll look conservative.”

 

“I highly doubt that latex pants, high-heeled boots and a corset with locks and buckles all over it would qualify as conservative anywhere, Yoji.”

 

“I sort of thought you'd like the locks and buckles, baby,” Yoji whispered, his voice husky at the thought of Aya thus attired.

 

After several moments of charged silence, Yoji realized that might not have been the best tack to take. “Um, I mean...”

 

“Yoji, maybe you'd better step away from the door after all,” Ken said, giving him a shove. “Look, Aya, I'm sure you look like a total freak. It's OK. You're supposed to look like a total freak. It's a mission, remember? Those madcap little jaunts we make to further the murderous will of our mysterious overlords? Focus, Aya. We're paid killers. It doesn't matter if your God-damned ass is hanging out of your God-damned pants. I don't care if you're sweaty; I don't care if you're circumcised. All I care about is that you get out of the God-damned bathroom and do your fucking job!”

 

The ensuing silence was palpable. Then, to everyone's surprise, the lock clicked and the door swung open. Aya walked out, head up, jaw jutted forward. He gave Ken a look that should have been lethal and strode downstairs. Ken, Yoji and Omi stared after him, wide eyes riveted to his ass.

 

Finally, Omi cleared his throat. “That's, um... quite an outfit.” He blinked several times. “You know, not everybody could pull that off.”

 

Ken swallowed hard. “He wasn't kidding about how tight those pants are. And I'm not at all comfortable with my reaction to this, by the way.”

 

Yoji smiled. Aya might be planning to kill him, but damn it, some things were worth fighting and dying for.

 

**********

 

“Are you still mad at me?” Yoji whispered into Aya's ear. They stood at the bar, nursing drinks and watching for the target. Aya didn't answer and looked distracted -- probably listening to the com link. Ken and Omi were outside in case of trouble. Yoji had refused to wear a com unit, feeling that it was too much of a risk -- he pursued sex seriously and feared the little plastic bud might pop out of his ear in the middle of the act, destroying his cover. Ken had pointed out that he himself had run for miles and jumped out of buildings while wearing the things and had never lost one yet, so he thought Yoji's concerns might be overblown. Well, maybe Ken wouldn't have a problem with it, Yoji had sniffed. Aya had just rolled his eyes.

 

“Aya?”

 

“Yes, I am still pissed,” Aya hissed. He looked surly and petulant.

 

“But this is how everyone is dressed. I told you we'd fit right in.”

 

“How come you got to wear leather pants and I had to wear latex? How come you have on normal boots and I had to wear stripper boots? How come you have a leather vest and I have a corset?”

 

“It's not actually a corset. See, this part is a harness...”

 

Aya smacked his hand away. It was a convincing display of irritation.

 

Yoji decided to try again. “I got you latex because that's what most people wear here. I got myself leather because, in case you don't remember, the whole point of this exercise is that I'm supposed to be getting out of them later tonight. It's hard to make sweet love to a woman when you can't get your pants off.” He felt Aya stiffen and turn slightly away -- maybe that had been a bit too graphic, under the circumstances. “And I got you the bondage vest thing because I thought you might like it.” Aya shot him an unfriendly look. “It's not like I didn't have any reason to think that,” Yoji murmured suggestively. Aya's eyes narrowed. “All right, I admit it. I thought you'd look hotter than hell in it, and you do.”

 

He whispered into Aya's ear, letting his lips brush against Aya's skin, which was flushed with anger. “Later, when I'm with that woman, I'm going to fantasize about fucking you while you're wearing that corset.” This seemed to be working, so Yoji kept going. “I'll be remembering last night, the way you arched your back and screamed when I....”

 

Yoji was startled when Aya suddenly laughed out loud. “I think you just gave Ken a heart attack.”

 

Oh, yeah; Aya was wired for sound. Well, good -- Ken deserved it. Aya was freaked out and jealous as hell and it was all Ken's fault for not being sexy enough to pick up the target himself.

 

“Look, baby, you know I don't want to do this, right?”

 

“I know. I... shut the fuck up, Ken; I'm trying to have a conversation here.” Aya looked at Yoji for a long time, completely inscrutable, then he stared out into the crowd. Yoji assumed he was being ignored when Aya finally said, “It doesn't matter.”

 

“It doesn't matter than I'm doing it, or it doesn't matter that I don't want to?”

 

Aya's mouth thinned down to a tight, brutal line. “The latter,” he finally said.

 

“What the hell do you mean, it doesn't matter? How could it not matter? Are you telling me you wouldn't care if I did want to fuck some stranger?”

 

Aya slowly turned back to look at him. His expression and tone were equally chilling. “Fine. Let us say it's a necessary but not a sufficient condition.” Then he added, viciously, “Fuck off, Ken. I'll discuss anything I want to discuss, anywhere I want to discuss it.”

 

“Baby, I...”

 

“You fuck off, too, Yoji. She's here. Go get it.” And with that, Aya melted into the crowd as if he'd never existed.

 

Oh, this was so unfair. They were going to have one epic discussion tomorrow, even if he had to reach his hand down Aya's throat and pull out every word. Yoji ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it just right, took a moment to clear his head, and set out across the bar to work some magic.

 

**********

 

Well, that had just sucked. Yoji staggered into the Koneko's kitchen the next morning feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. He'd always been a great believer in fuck-and-run, but fuck-and-massively-exploit left a bad taste in his mouth. The job had gone off without a hitch, and that bothered Yoji, too. He'd expected to have at least a moment's hesitation regarding his -- performance -- and he'd expected to feel overwhelming guilt before, during and after.

 

That hadn't been the case. There'd been no hesitation, no guilt. At least, no Aya-related guilt. And that had to be fucked up, didn't it? He loved Aya, and he'd cheated on him -- albeit under a bizarre set of somewhat extenuating circumstances -- and Yoji was sure that should be a problem. Aya...

 

Well, think of the devil, and there he sits.

 

Aya was seated at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in front of him, absorbed in reading a women's magazine article about how to wear the season's hot new look, the tulip skirt. Yoji knew that's what the article was about because he'd read it last week -- someone had abandoned the magazine in the shop and, well, the pictures were bright and shiny.

 

“You totally have the hips to pull it off, Aya, but I think your shoulders might interfere with the overall silhouette.”

 

Aya seemed to have stopped reading, but he didn't look up.

 

“I won't even ask why you're reading Elle.”

 

Aya shrugged. “It was there.”

 

Whatever. Yoji glanced around the kitchen, waiting for Aya to apologize about being such a jerk last night at the club. And this morning. Or, more in the realm of remote possibility, for some indication of tenderness or concern. The moments stretched on until Yoji realized nothing was forthcoming.

 

He didn't even bother to comment as he swept out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

 

**********

 

Aya sat there for several minutes, staring blankly at the magazine, listening to the noises Yoji made upstairs as he stomped into the bathroom, then across the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Aya was aware of a kind of whirling tornado of emotion, barely kept at bay as he tried desperately to hang onto the numb exhaustion he'd established before Yoji's return.

 

Tears formed in his eyes, which he wiped at brusquely, snuffling. He'd cried last night. He never cried. His eyes were sore and, he'd been annoyed to notice earlier, red-rimmed and swollen, a fact that was accented by the extra-dark shadows beneath. He'd be embarrassed for anyone to see him like this, but apparently nobody had. Ken and Omi were already in the shop by the time he'd come downstairs, and Yoji... well, Yoji hadn't really even looked at him. Thrown him a disgusted glare, yes, but looked at him, no. Which was probably just as well.

 

This brought him back to the nasty tangle of thoughts and emotions he'd been battling all night. Thoughts about how eager Yoji had been to take this mission, and how cavalier he'd been about it all. Aya knew he didn't have enough spare change to buy a clue about relationships, but he was pretty sure it wasn't beyond the pale to be murderously jealous when your lover is out fucking someone else.

 

He'd lain in bed for hours, bereft of sleep, imagining Yoji doing everything in his power to make that cheap bitch sigh, moan, and come until her eyes rolled back and her toes curled. Aya had finally gone downstairs and drunk whiskey until he'd almost passed out. He'd actually had to crawl up the stairs, and he'd never even made it into his bed, collapsing in the middle of the bedroom floor and remaining there until the insane volume of Ken's morning ablutions forced him awake rather earlier than he'd hoped. A highlight had been a screeching, off-key version of “Wanted Dead or Alive” that was so bad he could only assume Ken just found it funny. “I'm a cowboy... on a steel horse I ride... wanted (wanted) dead or alive...” The abomination in the bathroom had been followed by mysterious crashings and slamming of doors that had sounded like a small-scale re-enactment of the running of the bulls in Pamplona.

 

Aya shook his head, trying to turn off the replay button on Ken's tribute to `80s hair metal, but he only succeeded in making himself a little nauseated and dizzy. While he didn't drink often, he didn't usually get hangovers. Of course, he'd probably never been that drunk before.

 

He was furious with Yoji for finding it so easy to cheat on him, mission or not. And for not seeming to care about how upset he was. At the same time, he was disgusted with himself for being so weak. It was just a job. He had also known what Yoji was like from the beginning. And that was another thing -- what if that woman had reminded Yoji of everything he'd given up to be with Aya? Yoji certainly hadn't wanted anything to do with him this morning.

 

Hands shaking, Aya pushed himself away from the table and started up the stairs. He stopped in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face and take a few more ibuprofen -- he'd only had six this morning, and what were the odds he'd live long enough for the kidney damage to catch up with him, anyway? Maybe he'd take a sleeping pill, too. He hated them because they made him foggy, but he needed a break, and it wasn't like he was thinking clearly anyway.

 

He looked wistfully at Yoji's door. He'd hoped Yoji would take his mind off things. Sure, the man was probably exhausted from spending the night performing more feats of ingenious flexibility and jaw-dropping dexterity than a Chinese acrobat, but since they'd been together, Yoji had always wanted him, no matter how busy, no matter how tired. Aya briefly considered just going in -- he had that right, didn't he? Maybe he could just lie beside him and fall asleep. Yoji seemed to think that physical contact made everything all right...

 

But then Aya remembered that look Yoji had given him before going upstairs. He shuffled off to his own room and lay down on the bed, dry-swallowing the pills he'd had clutched in his hand.

 

He looked down and noticed last night's clothes on the floor. He'd thought he was never going to get himself out of those fucking pants, and when he next got out of bed, he would throw them in the trash. Nobody was going to get them on him again for love or money. The corset, though... He felt his dick stir at the thought of the corset. He wanted to wear that again, to let Yoji play with all the straps and buckles, let Yoji tie him up with that restraint system he'd found in the closet... Aya shivered, letting his hand slip down to cup his balls, then his erection, which felt hot and heavy.

 

He tried to discourage himself with yet another recitation of Yoji's offenses. How could he have allowed himself to become so entangled with such a flaming asshole?

 

Resolutely ignoring what his brain was trying to tell him, Aya's hand had already started stroking his cock. He wanted Yoji to tie him up and make him do humiliating things. He might even agree to wear the boots. As long as he got to wear the corset... His hand started moving faster, and his heartbeat and breathing followed. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining how Yoji would look at him... and groaned quietly as he came, ropes of semen covering his stomach.

 

Yuck. He felt for the box of tissues on the nightstand, grabbed out a handful and swabbed himself off quickly. Then he pulled a quilt over his shoulders and let sleep overtake him.