Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Dream On ❯ Dream On ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Dream On
Author: LoLL
Web site: http://loll-3000.livejournal.com/
Pairing: YohjixAya
Rating: NC17
Warning: PWP! Two gorgeous men having sex.
Spoiler: None
Summary: Aya dreams and Yohji thinks (ok, I suck at plots)
Beta: Kate
Note: If you are wondering, yes, I'm obsesses with sleeping people and this kind of erotic foreplays. And, beside, I've learned a new word I like a lot: frottage.
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz characters belong to their creators... unfortunately.


*Dream on*

Aya was dreaming.

Yohji could tell from the nervous flickering of Aya's eyelids and from the way his lips moved, as is whispering some sort of secret. It must be a nice dream, Yohji thought. Maybe about that sister of his that was living somewhere in Tokyo now, safe and unaware of what her brother had gone through for her.

Yohji knew he shouldn't stare. He was a dead man if Aya woke up and found him sitting on the side of his bed, looking and dreaming and having very dirty thoughts. But Aya was passed out, literally.

They'd just survived one of the hardest missions ever, well, not for him at least, but for Aya. One week whoring himself in an exclusive fetish club where old, fat, rich pigs watched, touched, and perused young red-haired men dancing half naked inside silver cages. Loud music, bad smells, hands everywhere: Aya's living hell. They had finally accomplished the mission the previous night, slaughtering an impressive amount of people among customers, bodyguards and owners. Then they, Yohji , had driven for almost 20 hours straight in the snow until they stopped in this little motel in the middle of nowhere. Just two rooms available, a very sleepy receptionist had said, and he was already bracing himself for more hours on the wheel, when Aya had surprised everyone, grabbing the key and stalking toward room n° 13. And Yohji had followed, with huge relief on Omi's and Ken's part.

Aya had entered "their" room without a word, showered, and without uttering a single word, had collapsed on the bed. He hadn't even cleaned his precious katana for the first time in... forever. That's why Yohji was so fucking sure that not even bombs would have woken Aya up.

So Yohji stared and basked in the shape of his team-mate, once in a while without gathering resentful looks.
Aya was beautiful, that was undeniable, with that strange red hair and even stranger violet eyes. Aya was beautiful and lethal and Yohji wanted him. Had wanted him since they met at the flower shop, one day many years ago. Aya was complicated and compulsive, angry and vindictive, passionate and unconsciously sensual loner. And virgin. Very virgin.

Under the dim light of the bed lamp Aya looked tired and young, with dark circles under his eyes and one hand curled up on the pillow, close to his face. His hair was still damp from the shower and so was the bathrobe he wore. And the room was chilly. If Aya slept like this, there were good chances he would wake up with a cold.

Yohji silenced the inner voice giving him shit about playing the good Samaritan and thought that he was only doing him a favour. Aya would have thanked him for sure; well maybe yelled first, but if Yohji was adamant about his intentions, Aya would have understood and thanked him. Eventually.

Trying to be as delicate as he could, Yohji began his task of stripping Aya without waking him up. First he opened the already loosened belt and then slid the bath-robe over one shoulder. His fingers brushed Aya's skin. Of course they did. And then moved a bit lower, over a bicep, following the path of the robe.

Suddenly Aya muttered something and turned onto his back. Yohji froze in place. Aya settled into a very unseemly pose, so very Aya-unlike, with one leg bent to one side toward Yohji, and the other sprawled across the bed. Totally exposed.

A rush of blood ran from Yohji's brain straight to his groin and he cupped his cock, trying to ease the tension building there. He should just stand up, cover Aya with the blanket and go to find release alone in the toilet.

But... But Aya's skin was warm and was calling him, and who was he not to comply? So he touched again. Light touches, so light he wasn't even sure there was true contact with the skin. But he could feel it, oh yes, he could feel the trail of fire his fingertips left where they passed by: the armpits, Aya's neck, chest, ghosting over the little, hard nubs of his nipples, down to his belly, circling his navel, and then down again to the tender skin of his thighs. Tender and white like snow. Yohji was barely aware of his hand still cupping and rocking against his erection through the underwear. Every sensation of his was now focused on Aya and on the imperceptible but still unmistakable little signs of Aya's body reacting to his touch, like the way his lips parted and the changing in his breathing, the quivering of muscles and, overall, the swelling of his cock that was lying now semi erect against his belly.

Then something captured Yohji 's eyes, some sort of disturbance that had annoyed him so far but he had ignored like a background noise. But now something in the back of his mind told him this... "thing" could be of a great use. So he turned his look around and.... BINGO! There it was, just peeping out from under the bed. Inconsistent and full of promises.

He bent and picked it up.A feather. Long and soft, tighter on the tip. As white as Aya's skin. How this thing had happened to be here, Yohji couldn't care less. But it opened a brand new world of possibilities into his twisted mind.

The feather took the blessed place of Yohji's fingers in the discovery of Aya's body. Yohji brushed it slowly, thoroughly, from Aya's left ankle to his groin, drawing complicated paths, and then back again only to start anew on the other leg. When he reached once more the top of Aya's right thigh, Aya was fully hard, his cock dark with blood, wet on the tip, his balls full and tense. Yohji grazed them back and forth with the feather's tip, like a skilled painter, and then he moved it lower, circling and teasing Aya's opening.

Aya arched his back just a little and let go a moan. Yohji stopped dead-on-track, ready to jump from the window right into the snow, naked if he had to.

But Aya gave no sign of waking up; he just turned his head to one side and rolled his hips just a little. A pearly droplet escaped from the slit of his cock, then another, pooling on his belly. Yohji smiled and dipped the feather's tip into the little pool and drew a path from navel to nipples, teasing them in a way that made them grow and harden even more. Yohji had to restrain himself seriously to not bent and suck on them desperately. Aya had beautiful nipples.

Yohji felt the heat inside his belly increasing intolerably, a dull pounding that matched the fast beating of his heart; his cock pulsated and twitched and asked for attention. He put two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, and then rubbed the head of his cock through the fabric in slow circles, making it jerk and drip, staining the tissue. He hissed and bit his lips. To damn soon to come already.

He wanted to play more. He wanted to tease Aya's body, reduce him into a mass of needy flesh. He wanted Aya to beg him, wanted Aya to touch him, to touch himself. Wanted to taste Aya, to fuck Aya, to be fucked by him. Wanted to shove him against the wall and ram inside of him as if there was no tomorrow, for God sake! Wanted... Wanted...

Wanted to live a little longer.

Realization hit him like a cold shower.

What the fucking hell was he fucking doing??? Playing the smart ass with His Iciness Prince I-Beat-The-Shit-Out-Of-You-If-You-Dare-To-Touch-Me Aya Fujimiya? He must had lost his mind somewhere in the snow.
His hand retreated quickly, like a snake scared by a sudden noise, and he let the feather fall on the floor.

He was going to bed. Now. He stood.

"The hell you're leaving me like this!"

Yohji wasn't sure if it was more the unexpected voice coming from what looked like a dead corpse or the iron grip that was now grasping his wrist to give him the first almost heart attack of his life. He stood halfway, motionless, paralysed by sheer terror.

"You finish me. Now."

It was not a plea, it was rather Aya's mission tone. But it was better than a "You are going to die. Now".
Yohji opened his mouth to utter some sort of apology, but then shut it. No way was he going to enter an ethical dissertation right now. He would face the consequences in the morning. If he survived the night...

"Sure you want this?"

Aya didn't answer, he just turned face-down, keeping his eyes closed, and parted his leg as much as he could. In this way, his butt was standing out almost obscenely, perfect, inviting, and it gave Yohji a better idea of what was coming next. He had seen, he had touched, he had listened, he had smelled... there was just one thing he had to do.

Aya skin tasted wonderful. Soap and a hint of sweat and a lot of Aya: iron and adrenaline and restrained sensuality. Totally addictive. Yohji played an extraordinary tribute to those wonderful back and shoulders, his lips and tongue not leaving a single bit untouched. Aya seemed motionless, barely whispering, barely pushing his hips against the mattress, barely clenching his fingers into the pillow.

But it was that "barely" that made the difference. The iron will slowly but inexorably giving away, surrendering to something that was most likely totally new for him: physical pleasure.

When Yohji began to lap between Aya's cheeks, just flickers of the tip of his tongue, little stabs here and there, Aya's breath hitched and he let go something very close to a kittish purr. So cute... And so very close also. Yohji could tell from the way Aya tried to push back against his mouth, silently begging to be tongue-fucked.

Ah, if only... But it was not the right time or the right place, and Yohji could be a sex-addicted, but he was not stupid or insensitive. With a steel determination he parted himself from his delicious task and sat back on his heels, admiring the sprawled form on the bed.

"Wha'?" Aya turned to stare at him with a mix of anger and frustration, his bangs covering half of his face but one eye, that now was piercing him with murderous intentions.

"Yes?" Yohji asked trying to look casual. The damn throbbing between his legs made it difficult, though.

"Are... are you going to fuck me... or what?" Aya was trying to be casual as well but his effort was even more pathetic than Yohji's, especially when he was still shallowly thrusting against the mattress.

Yohji smiled. "No."

If Aya's look could kill, Yohji'd be reduced to ashes in a heartbeat. Luckily, it couldn't.

"This time we are doing it my way, Aya." He cupped the impressive bulge swelling under his boxers, caressing it through the stained fabric, "I'm too turned on to finish you as you deserve." He gave Aya a hopeless look while his hand slipped inside his underwear and began to pump his erection, slowly. He was making a show but he knew both Aya and himself would be glad for it in the morning. "Please... Aya..."
Aya's eyes were now fixed on the hand moving inside Yohji's brief. He swallowed and nodded quickly. Yohji thanked some invisible deity for not having to start an argument with him right now and lay down on Aya's side. Aya moved onto his side as well, giving his back to Yohji, letting the other man spooning him in a silent act of compliance that Yohji found both tender and fucking arousing.

He spooned Aya's body, pressing hard against his bottom. His hand slipped across Aya's waist and his fingers ghosted over his belly, moving up and down, playing with the soft curls, grazing Aya's groin but never going further.

Aya was not very talkative but was damn clear about what he wanted. He grabbed Yohji's hand and pressed it flat over his cock, than he lifted his leg and hooked it over Yohji's, and began to rock into Yohji's hand at the same rhythm Yohji was thrusting against his ass. Frottage. But there was no way Yohji was going to waste precious seconds getting rid of his already sticky underwear.

Under his palm, Aya was hard as hell and totally slick; Yohji could feel the blood pulsating and the small contractions that signaled Aya's approaching release. Not that he could hold back much longer either; his loins were on fire, almost painfully. He flicked his tongue along Aya's ear, and felt a gush of precome wetting his fingers. But he kept massaging Aya's cock and testicles with the same slow, methodical rhythm; sometimes squeezing hard, sometime barely brushing his thumb over the sensitive skin. Aya was shaking now, in the effort to restrain himself.

"Come Aya, come for me."

Aya shoved his head back, almost hitting Yohji's nose in the process and his mouth shaped a silent O.

"Let go," Yohji murmured, "scream."

And Aya did. The most erotic, deep, husky and enthusiastic sexual cry Yohji had ever heard. The sound went straight to his guts, making him thrust one last time and he was coming hard. He felt hot liquid gushing in jolts between his fingers the very moment his own sperm made a mess of his underwear. It seemed to last forever, blinding his sight. Under him, Aya was now panting hard, almost hiccupping, his body trembling and still pushing into his hand. Sometime during the crazy moments of their simultaneous release, Yohji had heard Aya chanting his name. It had been an amazing sensation. Yohji... Yohji... Yohji...

"YOHJI!"

"WHAT???"

Yohji jumped from the side of the bed where he was sitting. Aya was looking puzzled at him with sleepy eyes. Yohji's cock protested, jerking angrily under his fabric cage.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Daydream, that's what he was doing, a fucking daydream. And he was going to die right here right now of embarrassment, especially since Aya was looking quizzically at his rock hard cock. His mind was working so fast to find an exhaustive explanation that he could almost hear the clinging sound of the cogwheels. He was on the verge of muttering something when his eyes fell on something peeping out from under the bed.

Live or die, old man.

He bent and nonchalantly picked up a white feather. Then, with the most casual and charming grin he could muster, he addressed his dumbfounded team-mate.

"Actually... I was thinking of a little game. Wanna play?"


***THE END***