Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Grab A Straw Because You Suck ❯ One-Shot ( Chapter 1 )

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

Title: Grab A Straw Because You Suck
Author: The Queen of Blueberry Toast [TheKWOBT@hotmail.com]
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Rating: XXX; Squick Warning
Disclaimer: Suing me will get you nowhere: I own a lot of porn and that's it.
Weiss Kreuz belongs to too many people. No harm intended. This story set
during the OVA and dedicated to Jan and Rebecca, who asked so nicely for it.


It was like riding a giant vibrator. Not a cheap, battery operated one, but one
of the high-end plug-in models with programmable wiggles and a lecherous
bunny along one edge meant to be pushed up against one very lucky clit. Or
taint as happened to have been the case with Ken's one encounter with a
high-end plug-in vibrator. Alas, their behemoth pink van had swallowed it.
Or Youji had taken it to use on a very fortunate one-shot date, never to be
returned.

He couldn't imagine he'd ever work up the nerve to order another from
Manx's Omochannel account, and that realization, months old that it was,
made his fling with the bike all that more poignant. And wicked, nasty hot.
Sure it had taken a pretty bad fall- the patent leather paint along one side
was peeling against his pant leg. And the windshield was smashed. But
these were trivial, cosmetic things, easily corrected or made invisible by
blinding lust, like a mole on a human lover's nose. The engine moaned, the
gears wailed with joy and when he had revved it the whole thing shook
screaming orgasm at him.

He'd ridden it those first few kilometers with his crotch ground down against
the seat. He'd expected he'd enjoy himself. He hadn't expected he'd have to
pull off to the side of the road and howl at the city skyline as he jerked off
against the guard rail.

Frankly, Akira was very lucky to have been rescued, let alone been given his
bike back.

Even more frankly, Ken really just wanted to bean Akira over the head with
the nearest lead pipe, steal his bike, and make sweet motor oil love to said
bike while its rightful owner lay drooling and dazed on the sidewalk.

But it was not to be. Duty left Ken sitting on the bike's pretty ass, very glad
he hadn't worn tighter pants. In front of him and over the road noise, Akira
continued to talk.

"So long story short- it wasn't the stress. Just bad genes and any kids Kaori
or I have'll probably go white before they get outta highschool."

Ken nodded to him in the rearview, and said, with gleeful out-of-context
suave. "Omae no baiku koi shitte'ru ze. [1]"

Akira just laughed and waved his hand gingerly in front of his face, "It's just
parts I threw together. It shouldn't even run."

Slander! Ken wanted to deck the boy across the jaw, but wisely refrained
given that said boy was presently speeding wrongways through a crowded
intersection on a bike Ken happened to be riding on too. "Are you kidding? It
even sounds sexy when you rev it. You can't buy a bike like this."

Car horns blazed around them. Akira's lips moved but whatever he said was
lost in the swell, the milliseconds the fantasy of loving the bike the way it
deserved to be loved brushed over Ken's face and he smiled toxically sweet
with his lust.

The bike slowed. Akira drove through side street, up some stairs and pulled
fearlessly into the outdoor vestibule of an apartment building that couldn't
have been his. "Calpis water OK?"

"Uh... sure." Frankly, he was kinda thirsty. Killing always made him thirsty.
All those slippery noises it tended to make, not to mention the yelling. It just
never seemed right to him not to whiffle at those who were about to get up
close and personal with their own intestines.

As for Akira, he bounded off the bike and into the hall of soda and coffee
machines. There was obviously no where on his person he could have hidden
any coins- there was hardly room enough for him (or, as Ken was shortly
reminded, his perky bubble butt) in his black leather body suit, and Akira may
well have not had a yen left to his name. At least he was polite about
smashing the front of the Glico machine, and bowed to the little old lady who
shrieked in horror when she found him with his fist firmly embedded in it.

"I'm very sorry. Please have some before you call the repair man." And he
offered her some of his haul before returning to the bike, his arms laden with
cans. He didn't bother asking Ken to hold any, just hopped back on, kicked
the engine up and proceeded to steer with his elbows all the way down to the
conspicuous ally where he parked. The cans promptly ended up on the seat,
all except for one, which he unpended into his mouth and down the front of
his body suit.

Ken, who had a lap full of very, very cold cans, just stared.

Akira had seconds and pretty much stuck his hand down the front of Ken's
pants while groping for thirds. It was only after fourths that his obliviousness
wore off. "I thought you said Calpis water was OK?"

"DUDE!" said Ken, "That was unprofessional."

"Not a professional. Don't care." Akira assured him.

"You're the Calpis Water Bandit King, aren't you?"

"The panty-what-what?"

"The guy who's been in the paper every day this week! The one who's
destroyed almost every Glico machine in the city! And most of the Meiji ones
too!"

"Oh yeah. I guess that'd be me. A man's gotta eat." And drink. Akira had a
fifth can, and fearing he might not get any cans at all, Ken snatched his first
up and proceeded to break the little silver tab straight off. Too much force.
Force was for killing, not opening soda cans. "Anyway, I didn't know
professional killers read the paper. That's... cool, I guess."

"You kiddin?" Ken griped, rapping his can along the seam of his pant leg as if
doing so would accomplish the least modicum of good. "I hate readin' the
paper. O-... onea my 'associates' started this Happy Togetherness Paper
Time thing in the mornings."

"You get up in the morning? That sure sucks ass. I haven't gotten up before
noon in like... a year."

He answered again only with a low noncommittal growl and a fresh shake of
the can whose contents persisted in eluding him. Fed up, Ken sprung open
his Bagkh Nah and punched one claw through the stubborn pop-top. Which
would have worked perfectly well, gore still congealing on said claw or not,
given that the can had remained more or less stationary for some time before
he stabbed it.

A burst of Calpis water shot him in the face.

"And I know how to open soda cans. Man, am I glad I didn't make a point of
lookin' for you assassin cell guys." Akira went on to assert. He also went on
to not offer anything to Ken who went on to drip down the lovely bike and
flare his nostrils rather dangerously.

"Yeah woul..." Ken finally said with an accusatory pointing of his be-gored and
be-soft-drinked claw (one that all but slashed Akira's zipper free from its
teeth- Akira however sidestepped after a moment of the tip wibbling at him).
"You don't know how to drive stick!"

This somewhat nonplussed his companion, who, nonetheless, had ANOTHER
can of Calpis water before he want on to express why he was nonplussed. "I
ran the car into a tree! That doesn't mean I don't know how to drive stick."
Then, he belched with uncalled for ferocity.

Ken sneered. His own subsequent burp was dainty by comparison. "You
don't know how to drive stick."

"So you could have done better in that fuggly piece of crap?"

"'course I woulda. But it is a fugly piece of crap. You got that right."

"Expensive too." Finished at last, Akira collected all the empty cans into a
meticulous little row on the concrete. "So, why were you guys driving it
again?" He didn't even had the gall to look Ken in the eye when he asked as
much. Plunk! Went the first can under the mighty heel of his boot.

Ken was not pleased. "Would YOU look for a professional assassin in a
Seven?" He ground out, and skewered his own empty can through and
through for the pain and stickiness it had caused him.

Plunk! "I would now."

"Yeah, well- you don't count!"

"Sure I do~o," the last word he trilled with a saucy wink, before the rest of
the cans got plunked into oblivion. "Where were we headed again?"

Ken brought the remains of his can down against his temple.

"Ow," his companion said for him.

"Well, s'far as I remember we were on our way to get your sister out of the
hospital. Y'know, before the rats find her and she dies."

"Right, right." Akira sighed and swung himself over the bike, which shortly
sprang to life between his clenched thighs. So did Ken's hard-on which the
very, very cold cans had otherwise deprived him up. The boy burped once
more and pulled out in front of a van full of tourists. Clear of the resulting
horn-blast, he proceeded to weave through every car on the road, even the
ones which were already speeding with much the same audacity he displayed.
It was beyond even Ken's own disregard for the existence of other people
who might someday want to use the road, and given that, Ken probably
would have gone ahead with the beaning and bike molestation if the bike in
question hadn't shortly lulled him into an oh-god-this-feels-so-good more-or-
less stupor.

Akira by some grace or pissed off fancy of the gods', seemed utterly, utterly
immune to the effects of the lecherous machine. Especially his mouth, which
remained, soft, pliable, and loud. "You can hold on with both hands if you
want." He brought up between two illegal turns.

It was a tempting offer. If he held on with both hands, maybe if they crashed
he could ride Akira's body to safety like a squishy boogyboard. But then
again, using two hands would require insinuating his groin closer to Akira's
butt, and there was no way he was going to be able to pass his inordinately
pleased dick off as a mars bar. "Nah," he finally mumbled.

"What? I won't think you're gay for doing it. B'sides, it'll be easier to steer
'cause you'll move when I move."

Ken crossed his arms, remembered he still had to use at least one hand to
hold onto something with regards to the bike, and uncrossed them just in
time to avoid being whipped off into drainage ditch. "Really, it's OK."

"I kinda think you should. C'mon."

"I said 'nah"."

"I really won't..."

"No. Seriously."

"If we die it's your fault."

His fault? His fault? If anyone died on this mission, Akira was getting lots of
blame heaped up on his most likely very hard to identify corpse! "I'm not
doing it."

"Your funeral."

"Lay off!"

"Your assassin friends commenting on how dishonorable your death was and
stuff."

"I'm not doing it 'cause I really am gay!"

The bike screed loudly, Ken bashed his forehead on Akira's back, and Akira,
thanks to the magic of the domino effect, was thusly rewarded for his
uncalled for stop with a nose full of gas gauge. When he finally managed to
peel himself off of the little blinking "Fuel Dangerously Low" light (which failed
once again to breech the confines of his brain) he turned around to find Ken
pouting off into the distance.

Ken, who was about as red in the face as he could possibly be without being
doused ahead of time with beet juice.

"No way!" the boy exclaimed. A car full of ravers which had just then found
itself stuck behind them shortly declared that they were a pair of fucking
fuckheads and once he managed to pull into the space directly in front of the
"Sidewalk For Pedestrian Use Only" sign Akira went on to add, just as
eruditely as before: "No. Way!"

Ken just made sort of a not-happy rumbling noise. "Shuttup and drive. I
didn't say nothin' important." Although frankly the break as a good thing.
Another minute or two and he would have had to contend not only with the
motor and the motor mouth, but very, very sticky pants.

Akira however was no in the least deterred. He turned around on the seat (so
they were crotch to crotch now- oh yeah, that was an improvement) and
leaned in close to Ken like a kid examining a dead bug. His voice was nothing
but childish itself. "You're really... gay?"

"Would you get a move on already?"

"Like... regular or hard-core gay?"

"Gay!" Ken shouted loudly enough to have alerted the entire block to his
sexuality; then doubly-embarrassed, and by himself no less, he rounded on
Akira and jabbed him in the face with his index finger. "That covers it!
DRIVE."

But he did not. In fact, he just grinned- stupidly too. "Wow, a gay black-ops
agent! That's SO COOL. Like, way cooler than one that just likes girls, but
not as cool as one that's bi. Pretty close though."

Which elicited a grinding sigh from Ken, who suddenly understood why it was
he so often caught Aya rubbing his nosebridge. There was just something
about not-too-bright crayons going at it that got some people right between
the eyes. Tonight, it got Ken, rather than resulting from something Ken had
done, although he did not find the irony apparent at the time. "Kid, I hate to
break it to you, but you'd be lucky to find a straight man in my profession."

That put him off, at least a little. He finally got around to making himself at
home in his own private space, not to mention examining the pavement. "Oh-
so you're not really gay. You just do it with guys 'cause there aren't any
girls."

"What part of 'your sister is in mortal danger' are we not understanding?"

"I understand that you're a... a phony!" There was a crack of tears now
starting underneath Akira's words- it sounded as if his very soul had been
crushed into itty-bitty bite-sized pieces.

Which was noticeably unacceptable for Ken, moreso than the dead soda
machine, and the intrusive questions, and the driving like a blind man on
crack. Crying was NOTfor on missions! Unless there were cute, fuzzy girls or
adorable, cuddly dead friends involved. He slapped the side of the boy's head
as hard as he could without taking it off (or him out, one of the two).

"Hey!"

"OH FOR... I am not a phony, OK? I'm really gay. I like to have sex with
BOYS. When I jerk off, I think about hot, sweaty, naked boys. My first time
was in a locker room with another BOY. You know what I did? I put his dick
in my mouth. And I liked it! Sometimes, I dress in this cute little stewardess
uniform I have to go by copies of Trans and BeXBoy- not because I have to,
but because I'm KINKY LIKE THAT. I have a BOYFRIEND now. If he's not
there to put fun things up my ass, I do it MYSELF. I gets hard-ons all the
time when I'm taking a shi-..."

Akira by then was grimacing somewhat. "OK, OK, you're gay. I get the
point. Geez."

And without being asked for the thirtieth time, he nudged the bike back into
the street and made it go "vroom vroom" just like it should have been doing
in the precious minutes he had just proceeded to waste. Of course the thing
was, they only got about ten meters down the street before he veered into a
park and stopped there.

"What now?" Ken ground out. "You gotta piss? 'cause y'know what? I can't
imagine why!"

Akira, flushed and glassy-eyed, proceeded to rub his finger tips together for a
moment or ten before he answered- "So if you're gay, can we like, have sex?"

"Will you shut up and actually make an effort to get to the hospital if we have
sex?"

"Sure, OK."

Ken's only further forethought on the matter- he reached around Akira (who
flinched, giggled at the gesture as if he'd feared it was headed for some place
on his person) and hit the switch for the radio. If he was going to fuck
someone with the good of, well, good, at stake, he was gonna do it with
decent music blaring in the background.

That kind of assured, he jerked Akira around where he sat and kissed him so
hard they both choked on the boy's nonplussed wail, not to mention came up
sputtering each other's breath. At least he responded better after that,
dragging his boots up and scooting wrongways around, and once again
leaving them crotch-to-crotch on the seat.

There was apparently something stunning about this to the boy's mind- well,
he probably hadn't been expecting to find Ken's cock raging, stupidly hard,
and he had no way of knowing the bike- that gorgeous, kinky bike! -was at
fault. No, to him this must have been a revelation that Ken had been thinking
of boning him the while way into town. And apparently he was flattered. Ah
well, there was really no time to explain. Ken sighed, threw one leg over
Akira's thigh and with his next kiss ground their hard-ons together though the
leather and the clank of the metal studs on their clothes.

The boy hadn't been hot at all to start with, but he was after a moment or
two of having someone else's penis squeezed up against his, and with a moan
slithered down against the dash, content more or less to be humped into the
display. He batted his eyes shut, and scarcely managed more than running
his hand into Ken's back pocket in the way of payback. "Do me," he
muttered.

Ken broke off sucking open the blood vessels in his neck a moment to reply,
"Getting to that." He moved then as if he meant to punch the boy in the jaw,
slowly though. Neither of them flinched and he managed to snag the zipper
of the bodysuit on one claw which he drew down but slowly as he watched
Akira shiver.

He had to peel the leather off with his teeth after it- the seams smacked more
than their kisses had. Underneath Akira's skin had almost no smell of his
own- he was all sweat and leather underneath his bodysuit. He even tasted
faintly of saddlesoap when Ken bit into his hipbone- the zipper lead down
further than that, down between his legs and his straining balls. The whole
thing probably came apart into two but there was only the one catch.
Otherwise, he could have simply pulled the one in the back down to Akira's
butt and done him with his clothes on. As it was, he had to keep going,
stripping, skinning and trying to ignore the fingers tugging on his bangs now
and then. The moans just eased him into working faster. After all, Akira
couldn't seem to find his own way out of the sleeves with his gloves on which
left Ken to slough them off with his own.

Then what of the bodysuit had already came off melted into the bike, but
underneath it the boy shone stark white, porn-star shaved. Ken left him
dangling in half the bodysuit and pushed him down sideways on the bike;
yanked his fly open and rubbed the head of his own penis until it shuddered
under the streetlight glare between them. The boy reached down, nudged his
black bikini (what else could he have worn under all that leather?) to the side
and showed all of his trembling crack off to the park at large. Luckily, that
happened to constitute Ken and only Ken at the moment.

As for Akira, his asshalves were already bright red. And not just from the
heat. Not just from the fact he had Ken scrunched up behind him on the back
of the bike and ready and ready to stuff his cock into him. No, there was
already something stuffed into Akira.

"No. Way," gasped Ken. "I thought people only pulled shit like this in bad
hentai doujin." Next thing he was yanking off his gloves with his teeth and
letting them clank aimlessly into the bushes. Bare-handed he ran two of his
fingers around the pucker of Akira's ass- the boy was slippy there, and the
muscle didn't give much under his touch.

Akira's breath however did- he moaned and hunched against the seat. "Well,
I do. Pull 'em out already."

Ken fumbled a moment, spit onto his fingertips and shoved two against
Akira's insides. He gave way easily up to the hilt of the toy and that Ken had
to squirm his way into holding. Moans stirred around him as he took it, and
he pulled. At first only the little silver plug skidded out of Akira, but then
there was the chain on the tip, the first ball, the second and the fifth one that
was larger than the rest and made Akira's taint clench up.

He stared at the toy a moment, and from it found his eyes lead back to
Akira's glistening asshole. Needless to say, the toy also ended up in the
bushes and Ken got most of his cock into the boy with one decisive shove.

"Ouch! My butt!" Akira promptly squealed.

Ken just rolled his eyes and bestowed upon said butt a much softer thrust. It
really was a pretty fantastic butt, otherwise he might not have been so
forgiving of its owner. Its cheeks were so round and squishy against his
waist, the crack so narrow, the hole so firm and tight- he could feel that much
of it straining against him with even the littlest movements, hungry, but
resistant at first.

Akira stayed somewhat still and whiney at first despite what else he may have
chosen to cram into himself previously. Energetic fucks were not apparently
part of his repertoire, which was either a shame or a nonconern of his, Ken
decided, and right before he got around to unlatching one his hands form the
boy's waist and settling it rather on his cock which he grabbed entirely too
hard to start off with. Akira moaned, not happily, and jerked himself
backwards onto Ken. Which was pretty much what Ken had been hoping for.
Not that he wasn't already oozy with delight. If he hadn't been mostly
steadied by the happy physics of going to town on Akira, he probably would
have fallen into the grass.

And Akira- Akira soon chased him away, having decided he would rather feel
himself up, which he did with both hands stuffed into his thong, one
apparently riding his penis, and the other his balls, occasionally the space
between them and his ass. Ken felt them skid over him at least once as he
was pulling out.

The bike was still running of course, so between thrusts it twittered against
him and not through his pants this time, which meant of course that he,
unable to resist the bike, went slow and deep and took a very long, hard time
to feel like he was anything close to coming. Given that, and the fact that he
looked at his watch at the same time to find that he had wasted an awful lot
of minutes, he hiked Akira's bum into the air and determined to finish them
both off. The boy wailed and flattened himself against the display and what
of his bodysuit he didn't happen to be wearing anymore. Ken shushed him,
and promptly groaned almost as loudly.

They glared at each other, and Ken, stuffed to the hilt in the boy, came. It
was like being socked in the stomach, only in some funky cataclysmic way
that didn't smart.

Apparently Akira did too, because after a minute or two of watching the
kinda-distant city lights swim silly before his gaze, he heard a heartsick- "I
think I just ruined my underwear."

"Then take 'em off," he advised. Some shuffling and screeching followed
which obviously had nothing to do with his own attempt to make the bushes
give up the four gloves he was pretty sure were all theirs. By the time he
was finished, Akira had proved himself much more adept at putting on his
bodysuit than taking it off as he was quite zipped up and ready to go. As for
the black bikini, it was dangling from a nearby tree, dribbling now and then
onto the sidewalk. Ken recalled his own pants, set them to rights, and
steadied himself behind the boy, who only winced a little.

Akira didn't say one word on the way to the hospital.



Not of course that Akira had any idea what was going on. Frankly, if Omi
hadn't explained it the fourth time with the handpuppets, Ken wouldn't have
either, and he might have sobbed snot down his upper lip when Youji pulled
the whole pissed off routine in the sewer. ["No Ken! We're just PRETENDING
to be mad and kill each other! You don't need to tell Manx you want your
gundams burned with you. Here, Cucumber-san will go over it one more
time."]

Youji on the other hand looked like he was enjoying the part entirely too
much. Which meant he was either a prima donna who'd gotten a pretty
shitty reincarnation or the Miko Mido stressball hadn't helped the annoyance
he had offhand admitted to repressing for the sake of his teammates.

Maybe if nobody died, he could get Akira one with the cast of West End on it.
It was starting to seem like everything was copasetic or rip-roaring explosive
pissed off with him. That couldn't be healthy, even for a half-assed assassin.

Either way, off to the abandoned amusement park! On one hand, Ken was
glad the lots had put him with Omi- Omi was mostly the mastermind of the
charade, Omi's kinky-gay-sex-with-non-boyfriend-dar was nonfunctional, and
Omi could probably keep their guests at ease and entertained for longer than
Ken could. On the other hand, he was rather put off with the fact that the
aforementioned lots had ALSO had put Omi's discretion the lets-kill-each-
other-about-here location which turned out to be a fucking creepy abandoned
amusement park that still, to some degree, smelled of vomit and bad
hotdogs. The metallic twinge of snow skipping through the air almost killed
it, but the aroma lingered on the back of his tongue and somewhere in the pit
of his stomach where his own "Hold cookies/Toss cookies" switch lay.

Once they reached the center of the merry-go-round, the explanations
started. Which meant his main concern was not laughing, and not flipping off
the cameras a certain voyeuristic US general had planted pretty much all over
the city. And in their van. Especially their bathroom. Mwahaha! Soon he
would be rid of them all and able to piss in peace.

"I really didn't think the fact my Flippy also died in the fire was very funny.
And look! You made Kaori-chan cry again."

"Ah... I was... ah... well, you see, this one time we hadda assassinate this
goldfish JUST LIKE the little guy and you just reminded me..."

"Flippy! NOOOOOOO! Wahhhhhhhhhhaha."



Anyway.



"We gotta kill him before he runs away," Akira concluded with a melodramatic
flourish which involved his pointing his shotgun at the Colonel Nichol in his
mind, that was to say, Omi.

Ken wisely stepped up and nudged the barrel more in the direction of the
window. "Yeah, that's... pretty much the plan."

"You have a plan? AWESOME! 'cause I sure don't."

"Beyond killing him?" Omi, who, again, looked like he was about to be the
youngest person on record to have a stress-induced coronary. "Not as such."
Well, actually they had a pretty fab plan, but telling Akira he was the bait was
probably not the smartest course of action at that point.

"Oh." The lad was crestfallen enough as it was. "Well, we'll think of
something. I've got a gun, you've got your stabby gloves."

"Bagkh Nah."

"Whatever. Bishonen..."

"Hey." Omi whined. "I get enough of that at home."

"...well, I'm sure he can do something. We can kill him with what we've got.
It'll just take cunning to get the job done right."

Dead silence assumed the room. It was so quiet Omi's cranky heart almost
sounded like the bass beat for the dance mix of Rhythm Emotion.
Somewhere in the midst of the silence, Ken consulted his watch again, finding
that his teammate had quite put bandages all over it. In fact, there were
more bandages on his watch than the smears of fake blood that they had
been intended to cover up. Well, it was probably about one AM.

He stretched then, pulling both arms behind his back and pressing them
against his vertebrae until one of the two popped. "I'm gonna go write my
name in the frost. You guys, I don't know, try to get some sleep. Or
somethin'. We can think up death-related stuff in the morning. Back
whenever."

And he was out the door and creeping through the grimacing horsies before
anyone had a chance to complain. After all, Omi's plan was not the only plan
that had been dually planned for that night! Not that Ken's was anywhere
near as convoluted. No, his was linear and goal-oriented. It could have been
summarized in a four-panel gag strip. The mere thought of that much made
him whistle once he was sure he was clear of the merry-go-round.

Ken went past the hamburger stand (a brilliant thing to put between two
revolving rides as it also happened to be quite close to the Hello Kitty
knockoff teacup spinner), through what was left of the funhouse and finally
got to the spaces beneath the Ferris wheel. It was an awfully high one, at
least twenty feet off the ground at it's lowest point, and the stairs which had
once been used to seats were long gone. Which meant of course that Nichol
and Powell had both overlooked it as a good vantage for cameras. They
might have mounted a big one on top, though that would have involved
forethought among addict voyeurs and Ken firmly believed there was no such
thing.

Anyway, there was a space, about ten meters by ten meters, where no
cameras saw or lived. True, the Ferris wheel creaked above in even the most
nonchalant breezes, and it was creaking really, really freaking badly that
night, but to Ken, it was paradise. For the first time in weeks, he got to
scratch himself without creepy thoughts about the American military
personnel who were watching him do it.

"Ah," he said simply and he laid down on the cracked and rather grassy
concrete as if it was the softest, squishiest, bed ever made by man or
preternaturally talented monkey.

"Whatcha doin'?" Akira shortly inquired as he insinuated his face between Ken
and the squeaky metal rings above.

Ken screamed, sat up, and managed to hit his head on the boy's jaw as he
did so. Then they both screamed and moaned and screamed again. "Shit!
Didn't your mommy ever tell you not to sneak up on daydreaming murders?
That's REALLY unprofessional."

"It never came up." With a shrug, Akira flopped down beside Ken and slung
his leather-coated arm over Ken's shoulders. "You didn't answer my
question."

"Uh..." There had to be an excuse! A brilliant, believable and possibly
disgusting excuse which would placate the creepy kid and, first and foremost,
make him GO AWAY. Unfortunately for Ken, he had no fucking clue what that
might be, and ended up deciding on, "Nothin'."

"You just said you were daydreaming. That's somethin'. I bettcha didn't
come out here just to do that."

He didn't believe it at first, but all three glances confirmed Akira had his hand
stuffed down the front of his vest and was scooting around there, presumably
in search of a nipple. Apparently, he had never taken the time to learn that
nipples are in the middle of the pectorals, and not somewhere under the
armpit. "I like the moon?"

"I like the moon too. The moon is like the most beautiful buttcheek ever. It's
too bad there's only one."

"Uh... right. And how 'bout you?"

"How 'bout me what?"

"What are *you* doing out here."

"Isn't it obvious."

Ken sighed. Sadly, it was obvious and the only comfort he could take from
that fact presently was that he and the gang were leaving town in less than
forty-eight hours. And he'd thought the whole van thing would only lead to
misery! Well, he probably wouldn't have run into Akira if not for that. Akira,
who was licking his ear at the moment. "Ah... hey! What time is it?"

Rather than take his hand out of Ken's clothing, the boy half-crawled over
Ken, pulled open the neck of his shirt, and looked down into its depths in
order to view the panel of his watch. "It'll be one in the morning in like five
seconds."

Ken lurched away, or tried to at least. All he got was a scratch on his back.
"Akira, you need to leave."

"How come?"

Something crunched in the gavel west of the Ferris wheel. "Ken," said Aya.
"What's going on?"

What could he possible do? Ken burst out laughing. Luckily, the sound was
sudden enough to startle Akira's hand out of his clothes. "Nothing. Nothing!
The b-... Akira an' I were just watchin' the moon roll by."

"Huh?" said the bait, the erstwhile Akira.

"Wow, you're right on time."

Aya nodded at this, and approached the creases in the moonlight from where
Ken and the boy happened to be grinning at him. He had a particularly
enigmatic expression given that he was not in daylight- it almost seemed as if
he didn't have a mouth when he wasn't talking. "It looked like he had his
hand down your shirt." No accusations. A spade was just a spade.

Ken, grateful to spade-kind everywhere, waved his hand dismissively. "Heh,
that's funny. But nah, we were both just checkin' out my glove. Looked like
I had some kidney..."

Akira got, up stamped his foot, and slung his hand out as if he had his
shotgun propped on it. Of course, he hadn't thought to bring it. And amateur
mistake, but lucky- Aya had no tolerance for firearms pointing at him, unlike
Omi. "KEN! What the hell's wrong with you!?" he cried. "I thoughtcha said
your buddies were AFTER US."

"Did I? Well... oh! You didn't know. I've got a lotta buddies and I didn't mean
Aya here. Aya's still my friend."

"Huh?" said Aya.

The boy was still not placated. "I thought I overhead you say somethin' to
Omi about Aya coming after you like all the forces of hell and a New York
lawyer?"

"I know two assassins named Aya."

"And they're both guys?"

"You bet." As further convincing, he gave Akira a thumbs up sign.

And lo and behold, Akira was convinced. He also sat right back down a little
closer than would have been polite, even on a crowded train. "So I've already
met two of your friends. I feel special."

"I'm sure you do. Aya an' me, we've got assassiny business to attend to now.
We won't be long. Promise."

Aya, who had a vested interest in confirming as much, walked up on the
concrete and laid his wicker picnic basket purposefully down beside Ken.

At first, it almost started to look like Akira might have kinda gotten the point.
He got up, dusted his ass off- the sort of things one might do before a
graceful exist. But then he had to go and nudge the basket half-open with
the toe of his boot. "Oh? And what kind of 'assassiny business' involves..."
his brows furrowed "...a bottle of
'Rare Cream Sherry', chocolate body paint and A GIANT BLUE SILICONE
DILDO?"

Aya frowned. "You're not an assassin. You wouldn't understand."

Akira crossed his arms and stamped up smack into Aya's personal space.
They were nose to nose, boy and sexy red-haired killing machine. Or nose to
chin rather. Aya had on his high-healed boots. The kind that usually went
with his black lace garters. Ken would have swooned in delight in other
circumstances where he did not face the possibility of cleaning up an almost
innocent bystander. "I understand," he announced to the entire park at
large, "That you're trying to take advantage of my boyfriend. Getting him
drunk and then forcing yourself on him. You know what that is? It's..."

Aya took leaned down very so slightly, properly aligning his searing gaze with
Akira's. Akira eeped and shuffled away.

"That's not very nice, that's what that is."

"Ken is not your boyfriend." It was like a mantra, like a bible verse in the
mouth of a hellfire preacher.

"Well how would you know!? Who made you king of the world?"

"Ken... is mine."

Ken's eyes filled with horny, happy tears.

Akira's however, almost fell out of his skull and rolled away. "But how can
that be? We had teh sex. And it was teh good. Doesn't that make us
boyfriends? I don't get it."

A moment more of silence. Aya took one small, but nonetheless plenty
threatening step in the boy's direction. In the end, he turned away from him
and grimaced before he said anything. "No you didn't."

"Uhuh, yes we did."

"No."

"I'm not a dog, don't tell me 'no'. I think I know when I've had a big, thick,
meaty... ugh... willy stuffed up my... you know." His subsequent nod was
sagely, as if such matters bore with them a spiritual importance.

Which they might well have had as far as Ken was concerned, given that Aya
rounded on him then, glaring death and doom and pitchforks aiming for
places where pitchforks ordinarily do not go. "Ken," he said with ferocious
evenness, "what did you do?"

He couldn't lie. Not to Aya. Scintillating, moon-drenched Aya. Hot, infinitely
fuckable Aya who probably had black stockings pulled up to his crotch and
clover clamps pinched on both his delicious nipples. Aya, who had given him
a hard-on to rival that of the bike just by standing there and being... Aya!
Ken's pout began to tremble and he wrang his gloves until one of the claws
started to whine. "Ayaaaaaaaaaaaaa, you don't understand. He wouldn't
shut up."

And what did that get him? Aya's back, of course. Mmm, and a fine view of
Aya's ass so beautifully not-quite obscured by Aya's vacuum-pack leather
pants. "So you fucked him." Not of course that he hadn't known, it rang
certain on his lips.

"He wouldn't drive the goddamn bike! We'da never gotten to the hospital if I
hadn't done somethin'."

"So you fucked him. In the middle of a mission. On our anniversary."

"Aya, I didn' mean to, it just happened." A big, gloopy gob of snot purled over
Ken's upper lip as he reached for the other assassin's back pocket and
weedled his fingers inside, only to have them smacked with the hilt of a
katana. And that always smarted. Leave it to Aya to show up for his
anniversary picnic and subsequent sex scene wearing a freaking katana like it
was 1690 and everyone was obligated to do their hair in the most ridiculous
way possible. As for Ken, he was about to launch into another apology
when...

Akira groaned, and not the good way. "What's taking so damn long? Just
break up with him and lets get one with teh mad sex! It's obvious you don't
like what you've got cookin' at home, or you wouldn't have done me up the
hiney."

"That's not true! Aya's butt action is way better than your but action!"

"Ken..." mumbled Aya, also not in a good way.

"Oh don't gimme that. I know you enjoyed it. You caressed me so tenderly,
and called my name, and felched me like a total pro!"

"Dude, I don't know what dimension you were in, but in this one, it was kiss,
unzip, out with the creepy chrome balls, my dick, your asshole, splooge,
splooge end of story."

"Aww, would you just..."

A metallic slither broke the air as the first hint of Aya's katana slipped out of
its saya. The swordsmen said unto them with wistful grimmness glinting on
his face- "This is unacceptable. All of it. As we agreed when I first pledged
my love to you, I will try to forgive... your shortcomings. But first, both of
you must seek atonement."

"Ho boy," said Ken.

"Neat!" The boy exclaimed, clapping his gloved hands together beside his
cheek. "I've always wanted to do christiany things! Where do I start?"

"Akira?"

"Yes, lover?"

"OH FOR... RUN YOU DUMBFUCK!"

But it was too late. Though they both broke for it, almost in perfect sync, for
the sideways bank of shadows, they made it only about half a meter before
the flat of the katana smacked across both of their necks.

"I don't think so." Aya offered, as mildly as possible.

So it was kneel, or experience real arterial spray first hand. Ken went first
and threw up his hands. Akira only followed after taking a good, long look at
Ken's ass, which naturally earned him no brownie points, just a kick to his left
kidney that made his eyes and his nose leak profusely. "OWIE! That hurt,
you big meanie. I thought we were supposed to be on the same side!"

"Let me guess, you ALSO missed out on the not-goading-your-attacker
lesson," the Weiss who was not presently threatening any throat-slitting
grumbled.

"Quiet. Both of you." Aya went on to insist, clapping the sword against their
necks for emphasis. "I only brought one ball-gag and it's not a double."

"BALL GAG!?" Ken blustered. "And that freaking huge dolphin-penis dildo?
What the shit kinda anniversary were you plannin' anyway?" Not that
anything remotely resembling an answer came to him, although he too
shortly suffered some kidney-related and ego-related (for Akira had come to
simper smartass at him) pain.

Luckily, Aya was presently more interested in retrieving the picnic basket,
which he seemed to be having a bit of trouble doing without releasing to
beheading either of his prisoners. He listed right, then left, in counter
balance. Akira scratched his nose and almost lost a finger doing so. The
picnic basket shortly swung itself their way, on the heel which had otherwise
been introduced to their backs. Aya set it between them as he riffled one-
handed through the contents. He threw the dildo and its matching vibe aside,
followed by a tube of Tush Push, a bagel, and a packet of fresh AAA batteries.
Eventually, he found the handcuffs- they were police grade, albeit spray
painted purple to differentiate them from Youji's. He latched them on Ken,
and having neglected to bring the fuzzy leopard print pair as well, tied Akira
up with his belt. And then, apparently just for the hell of it, he clipped the
two prisoners together with his Badtz Maru keyring.

Then, and only then, did the sword end up put away like a good little katana.
It and the saya Aya dropped at his toes, immediately followed by everything
else he was wearing except for the boots and the slinkly black stockings
which, as Ken had suspected, went with the boots. But there were no clover
clamps, and that kinda disappointed him.

Meanwhile, Aya was disappointed with the contents of the basket, or at least
the bottle which he took out, and gazed menacingly upon. "You know, I was
looking forward to drinking this sherry with you but... now I'll just have to
find something else to do with it."

Ken sobbed, and not for any reason pertaining immediately to his hard-on,
which had gotten to be noticeably harder and more on upon his witnessing
Aya's. "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit."

Akira turned to him, and hit him in the ear with his slightly sticky nose. "Huh?
What's so bad about that? What can you possibly do with booze b'sides drink
it?"

"You dumbass! He's gonna fill the syringe with it an' give us both ENEMAS!
And when he's done he'll probably wash us off with rubbing alcohol. And you
know what? It's all gonna really fucking smart!"

"No kiddin'? That's kinky."

"Actually," interjected Aya, "I was going to pour it over my cock and make
you lick it off, but now that you mention it, I did bring the syringe. And some
rubbing alcohol."

And once he managed to find them both, not to mention bind both his
captive's legs with their own pants (or, in Akira's case, the left half of his
leather bodysuit) he did exactly as his lover had suggested.

"Y'know what?" said Akira as his insides gave another stinging lurch. "You.
Suck."

"Yeah well," Ken spat back. "grab a straw because you suck even more!"

Aya, which had just finished drenching one of the moisty-naps he'd brought
along with rubbing alcohol, wrang said nap out over their heads. It came to
be wrapped around the blue silicone dildo, which it stuck to fairly well through
it's journey first into Ken ("Ow!), then Akira ("IT DOES SMART! MOMMY!"),
and then the nearest trash bin. "Quiet. You're both going to suck." Assured
his prisoners were clean, and dragged far away from their mess, Aya
presented them with his cock. "Until I tell you to stop."

Being as both captives were still whimpering and surreptitiously rubbing their
buttcheeks together, neither complied at once. Akira ended up being the first
to do anything remarkable. He went, "Oh boy! What a yummy looking
wang!" And proceeded to make popsicle with Aya's penis, licking and licking,
and smacking his lips in the most irritating way humanly possible in non-
noodle situations.

Aya punched Akira in the head. "I said SUCK. Not lick."

"Here, like this." Ken rolled his eyes, ran his tongue along the outside of his
mouth, and descended upon his lover with a good deal more tact. His lips
curled gently inwards as they met the tip of Aya's cock, and shook then, as
with a tiny, wet kiss.

Aya's breath hitched, but no more before he took Ken by the ears and thrust
hard into his mouth. "Good bitch. Take it all. Suck me hard like you know I
want."

At his side (and just where else would he have gotten to?), Akira cringed.
"Something just isn't right about all this."

Ken rolled his eyes at him, and tried not to drool too much as Aya pulled fast
out of him and pushed back in even faster. The boy, mesmerized and faced
with balls that were starting to clench up, watched in silent, slobbering awe
for some time as his companion worked and sputtered and got a bloody lip
from all the ill-use his mouth had just enjoyed. Aya rode him like a pussy in
a can, and when he was done (and once Ken had listed somewhat to the side
as he tried to catch his breath) he presented his the red rivulets still oozing
over his cock to Akira. Despite his continued lip-smacking, the boy was much
more sedate about going down. He sucked, but just a little when Aya was
pushed into him just halfway and he could not lick his tip or be obliged to hold
back gagging. His ears didn't get pulled, but he was treated to a nosefull o
Aya's pubes in the midst of one particularly deep thrust, and that was how
Akira learned it is indeed quite possible to sneeze with someone else's penis
crammed into your throat.

"Cool!" the boy announced upon his edification, Aya having withdrawn to
cruse and wipe the snot off his crotch.

Ken said nothing. Just simmered cute and wrathful even through the kiss the
shortly nudged its way onto his cheek.

Their master though did not apparently thinks so. He returned to them,
stroked his cock a few times with the tip dangerously close to being between
their heads, and came all over both their faces.

"Not cool," Akira went on to add.

Aya picked up the saya and clouted him on both shoulders, then did likewise
with Ken, presumably for good measure. "It's not supposed to be cool. Now
lick it off."

"You mean like... lick it off myself?"

"Considering that that's not humanly possible, even for such a... talented..."
*SMACK* "Looking happy also displeases me in this situation. Anyway, such
a talented young man, I suggest you lick it off each other."

This time, it was Ken who protested. "But AYA I don't know where he's
been!"

"With you. Stop complaining."

The two captives glanced at each other, grimaced both, and got hesitantly to
their work. Ken made contact first, the whole flat of his tongue scooting over
Akira's jawbone with doggy grace. Akira shuddered, but returned the favor,
coming short laps over Ken's nose, and then the edge of his chin where traces
of his blood still lingered, dripping off in candy strips now and then onto his
vest- he was compelled to crouch, and slurp those away, and might have
gone on to Ken's spectacular erection if he had been able to bend even
remotely in the right direction- his own had died down somewhat, but not
altogether. So they licked, and they kissed each other's hair because there
really was no other way to get the semen out of it. Even after they were both
clean they lingered, searching the lines of each other's faces for more salt
than should have been on their skin. And then there was a real kiss, a kiss of
want. A kiss that shortly turned into a smooch-drenched scream.

Aya, his own erection having returned, pushed them both face-down on the
concrete and jerked his cock into Akira's ass, sans lube, or spit or even
chocolate body paint. "Very nice," he said. "keep it up, and it'll all be over
sooner."

"Haha!" Akira cried in triumph. "My ass is a super ass!"

"No, you're a lousy fuck compared to Ken." Said this with judgement fitted
better to a cake or a chair that might need reupholstered. Ken of course
cheered, and for his troubles, got his own handful of dry thrusts. "But that
doesn't mean I don't like watching you kiss. So get to it or we have a fisting
funtime marathon."

Disappointed thought the boy was, he could only comply- Ken was just that
much sexier with his hips hoisted high in the air by the presence of someone's
dick therein. He scooted over and laid one on him. Oddly enough, or
possibly because he was not in the mood to have anything more substantial
used upon him as in insertable, Ken kissed him back. His mouth seemed
much lusher now. It might have been because of the bruise starting on his
mouth, or maybe, just maybe, it was because their inhibitions had pretty
much gone splat given that they were both bent over with a cranky would-be
samurai fucking them each in turn.

Aya took one for awhile, and then the other, pulling up and down against
them now and then so as to make their insides, and probably himself, quiver.
After awhile though, Akira felt something much thinner coast into him- one
long, skinny finger which stayed inside and tweaked and tweaked until his
balls lurched and he came- so much over so soon.

Of course, he was still tied to Ken, and because of that got to watch Ken
scream and moan as Aya road him out. Towards the end, being tied up didn't
seem to be much daunting to him- he was doing most of the moving, pushing
himself up against the swordsman's hips until they both bounced down to the
ground. And that was it. They came together, landed together, and lay
panting together on the cold ground.

Eventually, and it felt like hours he lay there, watching them sink sticky
against each other, Aya reached over, flicked the keyring open, and got up.

"So... you forgive me or what?" Ken was purring as he asked as much, his
cheeks flushed and his eyes half-slitted.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. So don't die."

Aya took stock of the toys strewn about, ended up leaving them, and helped
himself to a few swigs of sherry out of the bottle before pitching it, and the
last few gulps, into the side of the ferris wheel. He hiccuped, got dressed,
and kissed Ken on the top of the head. A few white flickers against the wee
hours still glinting in the sky, and he was gone.

"So that's it?" Akira whined.

"Yeah, pretty much. You were expecting him to throw me over a horse and
carry me off to his pirate ship? It's over. Now put the rest of your suit back
on. You look stupid."

Not that getting dressed wasn't infinitely easier said than done in their case-
neither of them had a particularly good time moving their legs. But they
found their clothes, and they zipped themselves back up, and they limped
back to the middle of the merry-go-round trying not to watch each other rub
their asses.

Ken said just shy of the first horse- "So, did you learn your lesson?"

"Ah... lube is good?"

"Close enough. Now, if anyone asks, you an' me were ah... on patrol. Got
it?"

"Roger."

Because frankly, he still didn't expect the kid to be able to handle anything
more complex. They both reached for the door, and Ken let him have it.
There couldn't be any harm in that. Why, Omi and Kaori were probably fast
asleep.

"Oh OMI-SAN! HARDER! DO IT HARDER!"

"I can't... I think... I think..."

"OMIIIIIIIIIII!"

"KAORI... oh shit."

Or not.

***

Notes:

[1] Sorry, I had to write this in Japanese. It just wasn't funny in english.
Translation: [You (rude)] [possessive particle] [bike] [erotic love] [state of
being present verb form] [emphatic]. In english, it just comes out to "I love
your bike" but frankly a better translation might be "I am in lust with your
bike". You may be afraid now.

Omochannel is a Japanese online sex toy shop. Not sure of the URL but you
can try to look it up if you like.

Yes, I've has Calpis water. It looks like diluted milk but it tastes pretty much
the way a used tampon smells. I'm not kidding. I'm also pretty sure Glico
makes it, but I could be wrong.

Hard-core gay, usually pronounced and written as per it's Japanese
pronunciation, means not only gay, but into S+M and/or B+D.

Miko Mido is the star of La Blue Girl, one of the most famous hentai flicks of
the 80's. West End is a fairly hard-core yaoi manga.

"We gotta kill him before he runs away." Is the translation my copy of the WK
OVA gave of Akira's last line before the panning away and going to sleep; that
is to say, before the other time gap I took advantage of.

Connie the Condom says you should never give people alcoholic enemas. It's
a mucho bad idea. Unless, you know, you're trying to make them pass out
and die, but that's your business.