Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Headlong Into Folly ❯ Endings and Beginnings ( Chapter 1 )

Headlong into Folly

By Cheyenne Dancer

"Yohji?"

Balinese scowled. It would fall to him--again. He'd never been able to resist Omi's belief that he could accomplish the impossible. Something about Omi's sweet trust just brought out all his paternal instincts. Maybe he should talk with the shrinks at Kritiker, let them poke around in his head and fix him so he'd be impervious to the machinations of the youngest Weiss--and lose the last of what little humanity remained to him. No--not an option. He sighed heavily.

This wasn't the first time he would attempt something completely foreign to him for the sake of the youngest member of Weiss. He had helped Ken coach a soccer team for several weeks while his friend was laid up with a broken leg. He had taken Omi to school at the god-awful early hour of 7 am when Omi's bike wouldn't start. He had even made nice with Aya on occasion, when it was apparent that Omi just couldn't take one more sullen outburst or snarky remark from the people who were like family to him.

It was beyond him to refuse the chibi's plea this time. It had absolutely nothing to do with his own feelings aboutAya leaving. Of course not. And on the plus side, if Aya killed him it would be the last time that he would fall for Omi's Machiavellian manipulations. Damn, he was such an easy mark. Ken's knowing grin did nothing to soothe Yohji's smarting ego.

The honey-haired assassin stood so fast his chair teetered on two legs. Only Ken's swift movement kept it from slamming into the ground.

"I'll go."

"Are you sure?" The wide grin disappeared and Ken looked at him doubtfully, whether because he picked up on Yohji's inner hesitance or just simple incredulity that anyone would accost Aya in his present mood, Yohji wasn't sure.

He gave Ken a half-hearted wave of his hand and arched an eyebrow, a smile coming on call, "Have you ever known me not to be sure?"

Ken gave him a not-so encouraging smile and a salute. "Better you than me, man. And I'd hurry, if I were you. Aya didn't look like he would be slow about disappearing this time either."

Yohji had almost made it to the door through which Aya had disappeared just moments ago when Omi's voice stopped him. "Can you do it, Yohji? Can you get Aya to stay? "

Sighing once more, the lanky man turned and leaned against the doorframe, his pose an unconscious display of blatant sensuality. His green eyes softened at Omi's anxious expression. "You know Aya, Omi. He's all fire and ice. Today he's leaving Weiss, tomorrow--" Yohjishrugged grinning lopsidedly, "who knows, ne?" At Omi's frown, he sighed. "I'll do my damnedest, chibi. Don't lose hope, 'kay?"

"Hai." Omi gave him a short sharp nod.

The hopeful look stabbed into Yohjias hard as one of the younger boy's crossbolts. No matter that Omi had led an assassin's life since he was twelve, the chibi still had an air of frailty and naiveté about him that tore at Yohji's heart and made him want to protect him from as much harshness as he could. The boy was as much family as he ever dared to have any more. Thank all the deaf gods that Omi was a computer genius and so Weiss could use that excuse to keep him out of harm's way--at least some of the time.

Swiveling on his heel he strode out of the room, hunting down Aya. He did not want to do this. Did not. Didn't even know why he had given in to the chibi and his damn puppy eyes. Kudou Yohji was no one's patsy. Except maybe Omi's, a snide little voice snickered in the back of his mind.

That Aya's announcement had floored him as much as it had Omi, the blond assassin did not want to think about. The fact that Aya had calmly and coldly announced he was leaving Weiss had hurt worse than if the damned redhead had simply gutted him with his nihonto. He'd find out soon.

Damn Aya anyway for that bombshell of an announcement. He had no concern for anyone outside of himself and his sister. He could have let Omi down easily. Weiss was all the family the kid had. Omi depended on them. Weiss depended on him. Aya was an integral part of the team. Aya was the fucking leader. He couldn't just quit.

Except he had. And was leaving it to them to explain to Birman. Baka. Whether Yohji was referring to himself or Aya, he didn't care to analyze.

Yohji refused to acknowledge that--maybe--he did not want their icy leader to leave. That would require admitting that Aya might mean something to him--something more personal than a fellow teammate fleeing the hell and insecurity of mayhem and death that was the legacy of Weiss. It would require admitting that Aya had slipped through all of Yohji's carefully constructed cynicism and protective playboy facade unawares --had, indeed, become numbered not only among the very small few he trusted, but had become a member of an even more select group--those he loved.

Yohji blanched. K'so.

He was not thinking these thoughts. He was not admitting anything. He was simply doing Omi and Kritiker a favor. Fuck Aya. Heat touched Yohji's face. Grimly, Yohji ignored it, he was only angry. Of course he was.

So why did his breath stop painfully in his chest when he pushed Aya's door open? Why did his heart race as he caught sight of his teammate?

Aya was still here--in his room, standing near his bed -- luminous flesh carved from the shadows. Crimson hair gleamed brightly as slanting rays of the sun slid between the fingers of the blinds to caress pale flesh with their parting warmth. The slender assassin was all darkness and light, clad as he was in black jeans that slid along his body like a second skin and a loose black fisherman's sweater.

Relief burned like bile at the back of Yohji's throat. He wasn't too late--yet. Sweeping the room with a glance, Yohjislid in front of the bedroom door, effectively blocking it. A black duffel bag sat half full next to Aya's tidily made bed. If there had been anything in the room that had reflected upon the younger Weiss's personality it was gone now--packed maybe--or maybe the cold sterile room lacking any personal touch was a reflection of the real Aya.

Yohji didn't think so. He had caught glimpses of tenderness hidden behind the glacial walls that Aya kept carefully locked about himself.

Aya's sword was slung in its sheathe over one of the brass bedposts. The slim assassin moved with inherent grace as he packed what few things he would take with him from the Koneko. Aya's moves were quick and decisive. As if he had no doubts about his decision, as if he held no ties to Weiss or any of its members.

Anger stiffened Yohji's spine--and hurt as well, though why he felt a pain so close to his heart he refused to analyze. A light sweat beaded Yohji's forehead and he was glad he had left his hair loose. It helped hide the telltale moisture as he gave Aya a nonchalant look, as if he courted death by his teammate's hand everyday. He couldn't help but wonder if he had, all but unknowing. Aya was difficult to read at the best of times. And those were more rare than Aya's smiles. "I think you owe us more than just another vanishing act."

Not even bothering to glance his way, Abyssinian continued to pack. Long slender fingers folded garments with the same careful precision that he used on a kill. Yohji watched silently trying to grasp some reason-- some argument that he could use to get Aya to stay. Nothing came to mind and all too soon Aya was ready to leave, hefting his deadly blade casually across one shoulder and lifting the duffel turning toward where Yohji slumped blocking the doorway.

Aya narrowed his violet gaze at him. "Move."

Arching his brows in a mockery of innocent inquiry, Yohjiflashed a rather blatant grin. "Or what? I'd rather fancy knocking some sense into that egocentric head of yours, you know?"

"I owe you nothing."

Yohji let the pleasant expression slide from his face like the mask it was, the repressed anger glittering warningly in his eyes. Softly, he spoke, "No. No, I don't suppose you do. Not to me. Or Ken. Or Omi. Who've all pulled your ass out of the fire at least as often as you have ours." Stepping closer to Aya, he continued, "But the chibi deserves something. He's fond of you." Yohji shrugged casually, watching as something flickered in Aya's expression. "Why--I haven't a clue. You're a taciturn bastard if I ever knew one."

Curling his lip, Aya simply glared, waiting patiently for Yohji to finish. There was an intrinsic stillness about Aya, like a large predator waiting for the first sign of weakness in his prey before dragging it down to a violent death.

Yohjirepressed an inner shudder. That was an image he did not need right now. "C'mon, Aya, for fuck's sake, Omi depends on you. He cares about you--give the kid a break."

"It's time he grew up. Things change. People change."

It was Yohji's turn to glare. "Sometimes I really hate you."

"Good."

Without meaning to, Yohji struck Aya across the face. Reflexes could be a holy bitch. Normally, Yohjihad better control of his temper than that. He wasn't sure who was more stunned at his violence, himself or Aya.

Aya's head swung to one side with the force of the blow, a bright imprint appearing on his pale cheek. Death was a solemn promise burning brightly in the redhead's deadly gaze. Yohjiflinched inwardly, but he knew enough not to show his fear. Fear would only incite Aya to act.

"Are you finished?" Frigid was too kind a term to describe the way the words slid like iced daggers from Aya's lips.

Yohji stepped out of Aya's way. Why the hell had he made that promise to Omi anyway? He knew better. Frustrated and angry, Yohjigave Aya a curt nod. "Yeah." But, as Aya moved past, the blonde assassin's hand shot out on it's own volition grasping their ex-leader's arm and restraining him. Shit, what was he doing?

Aya didn't deign to look at him, just stood there in apparent repose, though Yohji could sense the tension thrumming through him like a live wire blown loose in a storm. Well, no one had ever said that he lacked courage. "No."

"No?" Aya turned slowly, studying Yohjias if he'd never really seen him before, much less looked at him.

Shifting uncomfortably under Aya's relentless scrutiny, Yohji repeated himself. "No. I'm not finished. I made Omi a promise."

"That was foolish." Aya shifted subtly flexing his arm and pulling it from Yohji's lax grip.

"I suppose so." Smiling ruefully, Yohjiran a hand nervously through his hair. Aya followed the movement with his eyes. "At least tell him goodbye."

"We're done."

"Fine."

Aya turned away and was almost through the door when Yohjirealized he'd have to go back into the kitchen and tell Omi that not only had he not convinced Aya to stay but that their words had ended harshly. Mentally, he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity for even thinking to embroil himself in this mess. Shit. Fuck. Hell. Yohjididn't think he'd cursed this much the last time he'd taken a bullet. Only Aya had ever managed to stir this much confusing emotion within him.

"Dammit, Aya. Wait." Several long loping steps and Yohji once again found himself blocking Aya's path. He wondered briefly about simply smacking the redhead over the head, knocking him unconscious and tying him to his bed. Oh, wouldn't Aya just love that? His lips quirked at the image of a hissing, spitting Aya.

Before Aya could decide to skewer him with his sword, Yohji asked rather desperately, "What would it take to make you stay Aya? What do you want?"

Lifting his chin so that their eyes met, Aya snapped, "You."

Yohji gaped. What was that supposed to mean? His breath left him and he could only stare. The arm that had barred Aya's passage fell to his side. The lithe redhead passed without a backward glance while Yohjistood paralyzed--thoughts and emotions stormed through him too fast to catch and hold--all but one thought.

Aya wanted him? What the fuck? That--that was just--ludicrous! Yohji narrowed his eyes glaring after the rigidly departing back.

Kudou Yohji was not blind to attraction. He had a wealth of experience in recognizing when someone wanted him. He would have known if Aya had wanted him--desired him. He had spent the better part of the last year studying the reclusive redhead--watching him unobserved--daydreaming about him. There was no way he would not have known if Aya wanted him!

Aya was leaving. Stupid bastard. Trust Aya to drop a second bombshell and then leave as if devastation didn't follow in his wake. If the idiot left now, he'd never come back.

Yohji knew this with the same surety that he knew when danger hovered in the shadow of a doorway. He would never get a chance to ask him about his cryptic words. Ask? Hell--demand an explanation for that enigmatic 'you', even if he had to threaten Aya with his wire to get an answer.

So Aya wanted him, did he? Time to call the bastard's bluff.

Hands trembling slightly, he unbuttoned his shirt. He was going to feel like a royal fool if he got this wrong. "Aya." He was proud of himself; there was nary a betraying quiver in that one word. Aya paused not looking back, just standing one hand cupping the banister railing, head down. Bakayarou.

Abyssinian never made things easy. Not on himself. Not on anyone. Yohji slid his shirt from his shoulders letting the soft green silk whisper to the ground.

Aya's grip on the railing flexed, his knuckles looked white from where Yohji stood. Licking his lips, the taller man flicked his gaze away for a second, very unsure of himself--of this situation. What was he doing?

Fingers suddenly clumsy, Yohjifumbled with the buttons of his jeans. If he allowed himself time to think, he wouldn't be able to do this. He couldn't help but wonder if Aya could hear his breathing, it seemed incredibly loud to him as he stood framed by the doorway, pushing his jeans down his hips. A rough slide of material that grasped his briefs and pulled them down, too and left him suddenly bare and chill.

Like a statue frozen in time, Aya waited, painted in sunlight streaming through a skylight above the stairwell. Sunlight glinted off the gold earring. Dust motes danced like a myriad stars caught in the orbit of the deadly redhead just as much a prisoner of this incredible tableau as Yohjihimself.

Gooseflesh danced up and down Yohji's spine as he awkwardly kicked off his shoes. A light flush stained his cheeks, he felt incredibly vulnerable to be standing naked as much in the hall where anyone could see as made no difference. What if Ken, or god be merciful for just this once--not Omi--came up to see how Yohji was progressing or if Aya had left him crumpled at the foot of the stairs.

Worse still--what if he had misread what Aya was asking? The thought of the cool mocking look that could spear and shred a soul with single-minded efficacy being aimed at him made Yohjiblanch inwardly.

Clenching his teeth, he cleared his throat, forced his mouth to move. "Alright." Had he sounded frightened? He snorted quietly. Of course not! He was Balinese. He had made love to hundreds of women. This wasn't new to him.

Alright--maybe a little new. Flirting was second nature. Flirting with men had been a sometime occupation, one that he enjoyed when no viable female victim was at hand. Flirting with Aya? Shit. He would just as soon flirt with a shinigami--and now, here he stood, naked as the day he was born, offering--what? To Aya of all people? His breath suddenly caught in his throat, all movement and thought arrested as Aya turned toward him.

Plum colored eyes glittered savagely, Aya's mouth a straight uncompromising line. He swept Yohji with a gaze the other man could have sworn burned into his naked flesh.

The taller man took an involuntary step back from the raging inferno that threatened to swallow him whole. He had been right--to show fear only encouraged Abyssinian.

The red-haired assassin dropped the duffel bag on the top stair with a thump that resounded as loudly in the small corridor as Yohji's heart hammered against his ribcage. Aya didn't walk forward so much as he prowled towards Yohji. Abyssinian's voice raked over him like a brand of ownership, "Alright?"

It wasn't a bluff. The passion filled heat that raked over his nakedness had absolutely nothing in common with a bluff. The little flirting games he'd played a time or two paled in comparison to the raging fire that seemed to scour his flesh with the intensity of emotion boiling forth from deep lavender eyes.

The look in Aya's eyes alone was enough to send an answering fire sweeping through his veins and pooling low in his belly. Yohji's response took him as much by surprise as it apparently took Aya. Yohji could feel his cock swell with embarrassing eagerness at the other man's unwavering appraisal.

Aya's gaze dropped down Yohji's body fastening on the traitorous length of flesh that danced invitingly between slender-muscled thighs before slowly sweeping his gaze back to Yohji's burning face. Pupil's so large that Aya's eyes looked dark and filled with a demand that Yohji was beginning to fear he could not--did not dare answer.

Panic swept over the lean agent. Shit. Yohjiswallowed hard. Why had he started this? He was not ready for this. Whatever this was. He hadn't been wrong. Of course he hadn't. He was very good at being able to tell when someone wanted him. Except he hadn't. Not really. Not this time.

He had had no clue whatsoever that this fierce burning desire had lurked behind the level gaze of their leader. How long had Aya thought of him like this? Yohji's throat was parched. He didn't think he could force a single word over dry lips. He swallowed and thought briefly of running. Oh that had been a bad move.

Aya's eyes flickered as if he could read Yohji's uncertainty, but there was no reprieve in the hard resolve born upon his fine-boned face. Yohjifell back on the only thing left him--his repertoire of banter and flirtatious tricks. He put a hand upon his bare hip, canting his stance suggestively as he leaned against the doorframe.

Allowing his lashes to sweep down, Yohjiwatched Aya's unwavering approach. He pushed reluctant words from behind stiff lips, attempting a half-hearted smile. "This what you want, Aya-kun? Think you can handle it?" Yohjidropped his voice to a deep suggestive rumble, "Think you can teach this kitten any new tricks?" Omi was going to owe him big time. Omi was going to owe him a lifetime of pancakes for breakfast and being allowed to go into the Koneko late.

Like a sleek panther hunting prey in the wilds, Aya moved--a bare ripple of muscle perceptible beneath dark clothing. The thought that maybe he should run percolated up from the depths of Yohji's mind. Except if he fled, there wouldn't be another day--there were no second chances with Fujimiya fucking Aya. Yohji's hesitation cost him.

It was too late. Aya was upon him, deadly hands slammed to either side of Yohji's head and his clothed body pressed full-length against him. Denim jeans harsh against naked skin and the sweater a soft teasing caress against Yohji's torso. He swallowed. Soft and supple. Like Aya.

The blonde assassin's heart pounded in his ears. An adrenaline rush hummed through every last nerve ending. His fight or flight reflexes were raising the small hairs all over his body. It would be much more to his liking to fight--but he supposed that that was not what Aya wanted. Not actually what Yohji had agreed to.

Too bad.

He took a deep calming breath, only it wasn't. Aya was standing too close. He smelled clean like rainwater and violets. Yohjisupposed that had as much to do with the shampoo and soap that Aya used as the color of his eyes. His lips curved with his whimsy. Aya stiffened. He could feel the heat of that searing gaze as the man stared up into his face.

"Yes." One terse word filled with a burning passion that shook Yohji to his core almost as much as the claiming of his lips. Aya took his lips in a kiss that was both brutal and demanding. His eyes flashed wide catching the narrow glitter of violet as Aya twined both fists through long honey-blond locks holding his head captive, relentlessly controlling both Yohjiand the kiss.

Bright pain blossomed through Yohji's scalp mixed with a warm tingle of pleasant sensation that curled through his body and wormed its way into his belly, warm and heady like sake.

Who knew that beneath those icy layers of control Aya was a fount of roiling passion? Who knew the man could make one's knees weak simply with a touch of lips and tongue?

Yohji gasped whether in protest or pain or both, he wasn't sure. Opening his mouth had been a mistake. Aya plundered the newly discovered territory, his tongue laying its claim to Yohji's mouth with an all-consuming passion.

Moaning into the kiss, Yohji was swept along, one hand fell to cup the denim-clad ass and the other twisted into the younger man's crimson locks. Some small part of Yohji that was still capable of thought marveled at how soft the strands were as they slid between his fingers. Shudders wracked Yohji's body and he pressed into the kiss, curling his body around Aya.

Damn but it felt good to finally hold Aya, to kiss him--to be held by him.

With lips, teeth and tongue, Aya demanded Yohji's submission. Yohji was very nearly ready to give it when he realized what he was doing. Fear twined with his need and he tore his lips from Aya's staring wild-eyed at the younger man. What in the nine hells did he think he was doing?

He could lose his heart to this Ice King--he had known that all along. It was why he had never made a move toward Aya--if he allowed himself to love Abyssinian--the man known to have no heart save where his sister was concerned--where would that leave one Kudou Yohji? He could not survive losing his heart--not again.

He was not ready to give Aya that much of himself. Oh no. With a simple twist and an eel-like grace, Yohji slipped from under Aya and backed into the vacated room.

Narrowed eyes followed Yohji's retreat and Abyssinian prowled closer, stalking Yohji step for step. Past time to cue the ominous music, at that slightly hysterical thought a flutter in his belly made Yohji's lips curl in a panicked grin. He acknowledged he was the prey. And if this had been a cleverly laid trap, he would have to congratulate Aya--if he and his heart managed to survive it whole and unbloodied.

Taking a brief moment to grasp his surroundings, Yohjifelt his heart plummet. Backing into Aya's bedroom had been a tactical error--unless he was going to dart naked through the window and try to make it to the garage.

It wasn't like him to make so many mistakes in such a short a span of time. Yohji cursed himself fluently. In his defense, all he could think was that Aya's initial announcement had rattled him more than he had wanted to admit.

Heart in his throat, Yohji kept his eyes fixed upon Aya who closed the distance cautiously, as if making sure Yohji would not--could not flee. Aya angled his approach to keep him from both window and door.

"Aya? Maybe we should talk about this?" Yohji's legs hit the bed and folded under him.

There was a flurry of movement and Aya was on him, pushing him down against the wine dark coverlet. The cover slid soft and silkily sensual against his bare back. The aroma of vanilla and violets hung heavy to the cover still.

Yohji gulped for breath and Aya attacked his mouth again. Damn. Abyssinian could kiss.

Without quite knowing how it happened, Yohjifound himself arranged upon the bed. The move had been worthy of him. Aya was covering his face with small kisses and licks. Yohji swallowed a deep breath as Aya took the lobe of his ear between his teeth and bit.

Shit. A jagged bolt of pleasure surged from the small bit of flesh Aya was nipping throughout Yohji's body. His cock leapt in approval sending a warm heat rushing through him; wildfire burned through his veins in a relentless torrent as Aya continued to explore his body. His hands fisted the silk comforter.

"Oh. God." Yohji gasped, his hips rising to grind against Aya's still clothed body, his head automatically falling back without conscious decision to give Abyssinian greater access to his neck.

Before Yohji could gather his scattered thoughts, Aya took advantage of the access granted him. A hand tangled in Yohji's hair, pulling his head roughly to the side. Even that harsh grip sent pleasurable tingles down his spine. Soft lips paid homage to the column of his neck. Sharp nips and gentle suction marked his neck. Shudders wracked Yohji's frame and a stray thought flitted nightingale-like through the maelstrom of emotions--when had Aya mapped out his erogenous zones and how?

Aya moved against him and Yohji wanted to moan. He couldn't think with Aya rubbing against him, couldn't breathe with the man biting him, marking him until Yohji felt the harsh beat of his heart in the new bruise blooming beneath his flesh. Holding back a whimper behind clenched teeth, he moved needfully beneath Aya.

Releasing his hold on Yohji's hair, Aya skimmed his fingers through the long locks. He rose up straddling Yohji's chest, pinning his arms with muscular thighs. A fevered gleam shone in the dark desire of Abyssinian's eyes.

Scalding. Hot. Yohji could swear he felt the rapid pulse of Aya's heart in the flex of muscles that pinned him. The sound of Aya's zipper opening zinged through his consciousness and left him trembling. He could hear a roaring storm in his ears, a warning claxon that only became louder and louder, clamoring for him to run, to escape before the relentless gaze robbed him of his secrets.

Secrets he wanted to surrender--wanted to whisper in the pale assassin's ear with the wisp of the blood scarlet momiage teasing against his lips.

Aya slid up his chest, denim scraped sensitive nipples and Yohji hissed, fists clenching tighter yet against the deep burgundy coverlet.

Aya's husky voice, deep and still, laced with passion filled Yohji's ears, even as he was swallowed by the fury, heat, threat and some other emotion burning in the lurid blaze of amethyst eyes. "Open your mouth Balinese."

Like a spray of ice water, the cold words hit Yohjidragging him back from the edge of ecstasy. This had nothing to do with any of the dreams and half-formed longings he'd cherished, hidden and locked deep in his heart. Scowling, an angry flush heated Yohji's cheeks, his eyes flashed. "If we're gonna do this--thing--you can at least call me Yohji."

Unwavering regard locked and held Yohji's defiant gaze, the violet storm of Aya's gaze engulfed by the black of desire. Aya fisted his cock once, twice, never taking his eyes from his captive. Yohjifollowed each movement seduced anew by Aya's undoubted grace and elegance.

Aya placed the weeping crown of his erection against Yohji's mouth and traced the shape of his lips. "Now."

"I'm not a whore," Yohjispat out angrily turning his face to the side. Cool liquid dribbled across his cheek.

Raised brows met this statement. Aya's silence seemed to mock him. Yohji felt as if he had been pierced by Aya's sword; the blade twisted deep within his heart. Color stained his cheeks a dull red. Of course. What else could Aya have thought? He wasn't privy to Yohji's thoughts. The man could know nothing of his half-focused dreams and hazy yearnings. Aya only saw what Yohji let him. Disappointment cut deep. He wanted Aya to see more. Understand more. He wanted Aya to want him, not the image he so carefully cultivated. Anger followed hurt. Anger at himself for wanting more, anger at Aya for not seeing him.

Lips pulling back in a snarl, Yohjiall but shouted, "I treat my women better than this!"

"You are not a woman." Aya's words flayed him. Fierce rebellion surged through him. Yohji twisted and bucked, struggling to throw Aya off him.

Move for move, Aya easily countered his bid for freedom. The wildness of their conflict sang through them. Without his wire, without leverage, they were evenly matched.

Yohji could not prevail. Aya rode out his ineffectual efforts violet eyes gleaming ferociously. Finally, Yohjislumped back onto the mattress, his chest heaving with his exertions.

"Shh." Aya licked Yohji's lips, prepared to be generous in his triumph. "There are other things." Keeping an eye on Yohji for any further defiance Aya slithered out of his clothes in a move calculated to make Yohji squirm.

With sharp bites and long, slow swipes of his tongue, Aya worshipped Yohji's throat. Yohjigroaned, reaching for Aya.

Swatting Yohji's hands away, the crimson-haired assassin's lips curled against the soft skin of Yohji's throat. K'so, Aya learned quick. It did not take the slim assassin long to bring Yohji to a quivering boil.

Small moans were ripped from the lanky man. He squirmed beneath Aya, begging wordlessly for more of what the talented assassin's hands were doing to him.

Aya's hand drifted down Yohji's body to curl around his cock. Yohjiinhaled sharply, the flesh between his legs dancing at Aya's light touch. Hips made a swift upward movement only to be aborted as Yohji felt the beat of stiff hard flesh drilling against his hip. Yohjifroze. Oh yes--Aya wanted him all right. The evidence could be felt pulsing hard against him, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake.

Refusing to give Yohji time to think--to find a reason to squirm his way out of the situation--Aya grazed a dusky nipple with sharp white teeth and bit down.

Pleasure sharpened by pain whipped through him, Yohji's body arcing in needy entreaty. Spikes of sensation darted through him, tightening already hard peaks impossibly. Warmth boiled low in his belly, his erection danced erratically matching the sharp intake of breath.

"Baka." Yohjitossed his head; honey blonde hair sticking to his kiss dampened lips.

A soft chuckle whispered across his damp flesh. Then Aya was moving, kissing and teasing his way down Yohji's body. A soft sound that could have almost been a purr of pleasure rumbled deep in his chest. Yohjibarely heard Aya's answering growl of approval as he moved beneath the warm moist tongue paying homage to every exposed inch of his body. God--if Aya would just keep touching him, Yohji was ready to promise almost anything.

Lips drifted low on his abdomen, sending a nervous flutter dancing through the heat that pooled and rocked through his belly. Aya traced the light path of hair around his navel, teasing at the rim until Yohji thought he would scream and then his teammate -lover?- plunged his tongue into the small depression while slowly sliding his hand up and down the silken length of Yohji's erection.

Yohji gave a surprised shout, immediately reaching for Aya's head. He so wanted to touch the other man--to thread his fingers through those silken strands of blood colored silk--to curl his fingers through the long eartails framing the too-delicate face--to control a kiss that was as guaranteed to sear Aya's soul the way Aya was branding him. Gods, he needed...needed...

"Keep your hands down." Aya's voice smacked at him. Yohji stared uncomprehendingly through lust hazed eyes. His tongue darted out to moisten bruised lips as he sought to marshal some argument against Aya's command. Aya's eyes threatened to drown him, the violet of Abyssinian's eyes swallowed by the pupil so that only a dark fire of lavender tinged the abyss.

Shuddering beneath the heated scrutiny, Yohjireluctantly complied, reaching up and grasping the cool brass railings with a white-knuckled grip. Stretched and displayed for Aya in a way that not even his most secret daydreams had dared, Yohji felt unaccountably vulnerable to the demanding gaze. Aya was giving nothing away but his lust and desire. A small piece of Yohji felt like breaking, but damned if he wouldn't take what he could get and see if he couldn't force Aya into more.

"Dammit, Aya," he husked breathlessly, "stop your fucking teasing!"

A fleeting smile touched Aya's full lips so quickly that Yohji wasn't sure he had seen it--didn't understand it--a small flutter of unease mixed headily with his arousal.

Aya prevented Yohji from thinking any further. With a swift sure grip, Aya tightened his hand on Yohji's aching flesh and began to pull in earnest. Yohji could feel the rising fire building and building within him, banking and raging, threatening to sweep through him. Gods... gods... he was so... fucking... close.

His mouth fell open and he thrust against the enclosing heat of Aya's hand. Calluses caught at tender flesh and slid in rough counterpoint to the crashing pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. Wrapped in pleasure so thick he was drowning, mind long since trapped in what Aya was doing to his body, Yohji almost missed the tentative touch tickling beneath his nuts. Moving lower, stealthily as if seeking to be lost in the heady mixture of Aya's lips against the soft inside of his thigh, soft, moist hot--Aya's hand hard and demanding as it slid the length of Yohji's hot flesh, fingers crept and circled the entrance to Yohji's body.

Terror welled up. "No!" Instinctively, Yohji tried to roll away. Aya released his erection and Yohji all but whimpered--his disappointment and desire at war.

Clutching Yohji's thighs in a grip that would leave bruises, Aya regarded him unequivocally, the disturbing violet eyes nearly impossible to read beneath a fall of bright hair and dark lashes.

"You agreed." Aya spoke calmly--too fucking calmly for someone who was trying...who had tried... who wanted... Yohji's mind shied away from that.

With one hand, Aya reached between Yohji's legs again. Fingers circled his anus and Yohji tensed. Fear shot along his spine twining with the heat and longing that Aya was expertly coaxing from his body. Where had Aya learned these tricks? And from whom? A small spark of irrational jealousy burned behind closed eyelids. Aya's hands roamed knowledgeably as if attempting to force Yohji's utter surrender.

And Yohji wanted to surrender. That thought frightened him even more than what Aya was doing between his legs. He hadn't planned on this. Hadn't thought things through this far, had to admit he hadn't actually thought much of anything when he challenged Aya.

He really needed to think things through before he acted. Plunging headlong into the confrontation with Aya without forethought or planning had been simple folly. A nervous flutter in his belly answered the thought.

Things were going fast. Too fast. Had to slow this down.

Yohji twisted suddenly beneath Aya's hands, trying to slide out from under the man. He scrabbled for the edge of the bed, half-falling onto the floor and dragging assorted sheets and pillows with him.

"Too late, now, Balinese." Aya's voice rasped over him like a kitten's tongue lapping at sensitive flesh. Fear tangled confusingly with arousal and Yohji felt his cock throb at the dark threat implicit in Aya's voice.

Swiftly, Aya grasped Yohji's hips with fingers that bruised and hauled him back onto the bed bodily before Yohji untangled himself.

"Fuck!" Yohjiwent wild, thrashing in a wild attempt to throw Aya off. Though he was the taller of the two they were a near match in both skill and strength. The rapidity and surprise of the attack weighed in the swordsman's favor.

They rolled back and forth across the bed locked in combat, Yohji's arousal and terror working against him as Aya maintained a focussed assault. All too soon, Yohjifound himself on his stomach, his legs spread and Aya lying full length, holding him down as he wrapped Yohji's own belt about his wrists and bound his hands above his head to the brass rails. The leather of the belt bit deep into his bony wrists.

"K'so!" He didn't have time to wonder when or how Aya had brought the belt with him.

The mattress gave a little as Aya forced him up onto his knees, the rough texture scraping his sensitive nipples; comforter and sheets long lost in their struggle for dominance.

He tested the strength of the belt binding him to the rails. It wasn't in him to just surrender. He was almost grateful to Aya for his captivity--the belt was an anchor of sorts. It made surrender graceful and not so desperate as he felt.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt Aya's strong hands on his hips arranging him, pulling him upward until his ass was in the air. Yohji's face burned.

Cursing fluently, he could not believe he had lost. He buried his head against his bound arms, damp strands of hair clinging to his cheek and lips, hiding his face from Aya's view. Equal parts terror and excitement swelled through him with the rush of adrenaline.

Hoarsely, Yohji protested, "I didn't agree to this!" He couldn't breathe. Shit. He couldn't breathe. His breath came in aching, fiery pants matched by the throb of his arousal and the rush of blood dancing like wildfire through his veins.

"You had your chance, Balinese." Aya's voice was grim, dark, colored with passion and some other emotion that he couldn't read. "I won't let you go now. Understand that."

Fuck. He wanted to see Aya's face. He was afraid to look.

Fear and anger made a heady aphrodisiac with Aya holding him all but helpless, strong hands branded his legs with the feel of Aya going cell-deep. Aya thrust his thighs further apart. Yohji could feel Aya watching him--watching him there and he shivered. He was going to scream if Aya didn't do something--soon.

Sitting up between Yohji's thighs so that the he couldn't close his legs, Aya forced the long length of Balinese's limbs wider so that he was impossibly extended, muscles trembling. Aya slid down until he was pressed against Yohji's back once more. Yohjifelt scalded as Aya's arousal nestled hard and unyielding between his ass cheeks.

Aya's brand was like a kiln in summer, burning flesh everywhere they touched. Swallowing was something he had forgotten how to do. Aya manipulated his hips, pulling his hips higher. Long slim fingers feathered down his chest, tweaking a nipple sharply, ghosting around his waist, teasing through the thick curls at his groin, seeking out his arousal.

Yohji found himself blushing as Aya's fingers flickered lightly over his unabashedly hard cock. His hips rocked forward at the teasing touch and Yohjiblushed harder, cursing his sybaritic impulses.

Inadvertently licking his lips, he tasted the bitter tang of the fluid left behind by Abyssinian's--no Aya's--cock. The flavor lingered on his tongue made him yearn for more. He blinked. What was happening to him? Never before had he desired the taste of another man. Now, surrounded by the scent of violets and the heavy musk of sex, Yohji felt his desire flare hotter, his erection pulsating in time to the rapid beat of his heart. He could admit to himself--now--that he wanted Aya. Now, with his ass up in the air and his choices taken from him. What a time to buy a clue.

Aya teased his cock slowly between the firm mounds of Yohji's ass, circling the tight pucker threateningly. Yohji shivered. Images came back to taunt him.

In his secret dreams, the ones he pulled out and cherished or stroked off to when Aya had been especially pissy and Yohjifelt especially daring and angry, he had never ever thought sex between him and Aya would happen like this. He had never seen himself as uke.

Always, it had been Aya--shy and demure or angry and hissing fire while Yohji pinned the smaller man's hands above his head and stole a kiss, forcing Aya's lips open and claiming the cool agent, slipping his leg between slender-muscled thighs and rubbing against an unwanted erection. He would coax, cajole and force his way until Aya softened and accepted the kiss and cried out to Yohji for more. And Yohjiwould give it to him. That was the way this was supposed to go.

Who knew that it was so foolish to mistake Aya's quiet nature for shyness--his cold exterior as unawakened desire? How the hell was Yohjisupposed to have known that all of Aya's sullen silences had hidden such a fiery and uncontrollable passion all focussed upon him and merely awaiting an unwary word to unleash the man like a great caged beast fighting toward freedom?

An unnamed and unexamined desire surged through him and Yohji shuttered the telltale gleam in his green eyes with thick golden lashes, burying his face in the covers. He could not let Aya see this weakness. He had to hope that Aya would see only the lust--a body's natural response to someone beautiful and warm and suddenly available.

Aya tightened his grip around Yohji's cock. Fingers buried themselves deep in the damp waves of his hair, jerking Yohji's head upward and back.

Yohjisurpressed a yelp, and shot his own version of Aya's shi-ne glare at his tormentor. Narrowed eyes let Yohji know that Aya still waited some response.

"I didn't know." Fuck. Had that shaky, whispered denial been him? Even Yohji didn't believe it. He stared back at his captor, tormentor--lover--and felt his heart race frantically. His arms and back ached from his bowed position.

"You lie."

A nervous snort answered the cold disbelieving statement. "Fuck, Aya, you need to work on your sweet talk some." Nerves fluttered like psychotic butterflies doing pirouettes in his belly. This was really going to happen. Aya really planned to--

Aya released his hold in Yohji's hair and Yohji let his head fall forward, his hair veiling his fright, his fear, his desire.

Aya strummed his fingers through the tangle of moist honeyed curls with a tenderness at odds with their earlier battle.

Yohji found himself fighting the impulse to rub against that hand.

Pushing the damp strands away from Yohji's neck, Aya licked the sweat from his neck before placing a kiss against his shoulder. Softly Aya whispered against his flesh, "It'll be alright, Yohji."

Yohji jumped as if he'd been shot, every muscle trembled with tension. He hadn't been expecting any tenderness. It almost hurt. It would be easier to walk away from this if Aya would just take what he wanted and leave.

Aya's sword-callused hands rubbed a soothing circle on his back, soft lips brushed the nape of his neck and he inhaled quickly. He trembled like a new bride and knew that he would have continued to fight until one of them had been hurt--or worse--until Aya had given up and left.

His offer had been honest, if teasing. He had always wanted Aya. If he was honest, his lust had started the moment he had carried the unconscious redhead upstairs in his arms that first day. Pale delicate features framed by crimson hair, face so innocent and lost with dark lashes like bruises against Aya's cheeks. Yohji had wanted just a little piece of that for himself.

He'd just never thought he'd get a chance at the reclusive redhead. He just had not thought it through. Somehow, he hadn't thought Aya would want him on his knees. Why was that?

Tender kisses were brushed against the curve of his buttocks. Yohjisurged away like a terrified kitten. Aya's warm chuckle sent a puff of air against his entrance. Yohjiswallowed hard.

A tentative kiss, the lightest of touches against that circle of flesh that suddenly seemed to be the center of his world. Yohji felt every muscle in his body freeze.

Aya's hand was a hot brand on his flank. He could feel the puzzled look almost as Aya raised his head and squeezed Yohji's hip. Yohjiwhimpered.

"Relax, Yohji. Or this will hurt."

Yohjisuppressed a nervous titter. Big strong assassin-type playboys did not giggle like frightened schoolgirls. He bit his arm to keep from screaming as he felt Aya's touches, light and intrusive. Frightening in their intensity and in the answering fire that flashed through him. Afraid as he was, he didn't want Aya to stop. Not now. Aya had said he wouldn't let him go. Was that a promise? Yohjiclung to the sharply spoken words with quiet desperation.

Why he should feel a spark of warmth deep in the frozen wasteland that was his life, he was unsure. He was afraid to investigate; too much knowledge could bring bad luck. Bad luck. Yohji scoffed. His stomach muscles jumped with silent laughter. He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to burrow into the mattress.

Aya had stopped moving. His fingers were just resting against the puckered opening to his body. Yohji wanted to scream.

"Yohji?"

"Just do it." What the fuck was he saying!? He was certifiable. Omi would have to call Kritiker. He was sure there must be a nice softly padded room somewhere for hired killers who had gone quietly and dangerously insane.

Aya rested his cheek against the curve of his ass. Fucking Christ! Was the man never going to get this over with? He could feel the strain of his widespread position burning along his hips and shoulders, pulling at his spine. Sweat trickled in long cooling drops down his back. His cock surged, arousal unabated.

He could feel the panic building deep in his gut again. Aya's deep voice rumbled through him and he started.

"You act like you've never done this."

"..." Silence. What was there to say? Would saying anything help?

"Yohji."

He was shaking his head. What did Aya want from him? Blood? His snide little inner voice was laughing hysterically. Oh. Yeah. He knew what Aya wanted. Now. Made a fellow wonder what all those long cool looks had hidden for months. Made a fellow wonder how he ended up like this--on his knees, vulnerable, waiting for his teammate to make some kind of fucking move!

Stillness. Shit. Had he said that out loud? What the fuck did the man expect with his face on Yohji's ass and his hand on his cock? Clear thinking was not his forte.

"You act like you've never done this." Aya spoke again, thoughtfully.

With his eyes squeezed shut, Yohjicould almost see the small frown that always creased just between Aya's brows when he was puzzling over some conundrum.

"Don't be stupid."

One finger pushed it's way slowly inside.

Yohji grunted at the uncomfortable intrusion. Reflex tightened his thighs as he fought the invader. He couldn't close his legs with Aya there. He desperately wanted to.

The finger was cool and slick, insistent. Hell, what the fuck was that? When the fuck had Aya gotten lube? He didn't have time to follow that thought as Aya blew a puff of air across the muscle and it spasmed. Yohji made a muffled sound of protest as Aya slid his finger deeper.

"Talk to me, Yohji."

Aya wanted to talk? Now?! He couldn't think with Aya's finger probing inside him. How the hell was he supposed to talk? He opened his mouth and a groan came out.

Heat ebbed and flowed through his body. Aya's hand was a slow teasing glide along his throbbing sex. Yohji had long since closed his eyes, enfolded in the comforting tangle of darkness as Aya worked his finger in slow circles, easing the tenseness of the tight muscle.

What the hell was he searching for? Yohji could taste blood from where he had bitten his arm. Bright color burned his cheeks; he could feel the heat of his blush on the tips of his ears. A second finger joined the first and Yohji swallowed more air. The discomfort was such that he spread his legs, trying to ease the pressure. Guys did this? Why?

It wasn't painful so much as embarrassing--spread open for Aya, fingers buried deep creating an intense feeling of fullness. Aya's hand on Yohji's cock didn't quite take his mind off of the other newer sensation.

"Have you?"

Aya touched something--deep, with a slight twist of his fingers.

Yohjishouted. Bright sparks lit behind his closed eyes and his breath fled his lungs in a whoosh of surprise. FUCK. What? He lifted his hips and Aya obliged by nudging deep again. Again pleasure licked through him with the force of a tsunami. Yohjiarched his back and pushed back.

Yohji's hips leapt from the bed as pleasure snapped wire taut through him. The pleasure ebbed slowly and Yohji nearly collapsed slack limbed upon the bed, only Aya's hand upon his hip keeping him on his knees. His mouth was open and gasping.

With a few more touches, he was a whimpering wreck. If he'd been a cat in heat, he'd have had more dignity. Wantonly he spread himself, undulating between the two hands. Lost in a blur of movement, the feel of Aya's breath washing across the curve of his ass, fingers slowly moving in and out in a rhythm that Yohji knew was but a precursor for something larger.

He found he didn't care. Hot hand on his cock. Hot breath down his back, a wet tongue touching ever so lightly were those fingers probed. Higher and higher the flames burned and Yohji could swear he was close to flying.

Without warning, there was a cessation of movement as Aya waited expectantly.

"No!" He almost yowled his protest, his eyes flashing open. He glared at Aya over his shoulder.

Aya sat unmoved, one hand controlling Yohji's abortive movements, the other fingers still buried deep in Yohji's ass. His violet eyes were dark and demanding.

Was the guy a fucking robot? He knew that Aya was as rigid as himself. He'd felt the undeniable evidence of that erection sliding along his back, slicking itself between his legs, leaving a damp trail in its wake.

"You're a virgin?"

Yohji felt his ears warming impossibly hotter. Shit. Kudou Yohji did not blush.

He closed his eyes against the sharp demand. "Ch', Fujimiya. You're a fucking tease."

Aya twisted the long slender digits impaling Yohji's body.

"I want an answer."

Cracking his eye open just enough that he could peer at Aya's near expressionless face through dark lashes, Yohjiwet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Attempting to fall back into his shell, to withdraw, to gain some distance, he drawled teasingly, "Well, I wouldn't exactly say 'virgin'."

Another finger was added. Yohji groaned. So full, and this was just the appetizer. How in hell did women do this? Aya stayed still while Yohji's muscles spasmed, gripping his fingers tightly. Yohji took in a long shaky breath.

Before he could beg him to stop, Aya flexed his fingers rubbing that elusive spot that sent his entire body into tremors, his hips snapping up as Yohji sought to impale himself further. Waves of sensation roiled through him, and he found himself writhing on Aya's fingers in mindless ecstasy.

It was wonderful. It was mind-numbingly frightening. Breathing was forgotten as bright lights flashed behind his eyelids and Yohji pushed himself back on those invading fingers and ground down against the rough mattress.

Aya stilled his hand, leaving long slim fingers deep buried in his ass and pulling Yohji roughly up from the mattress. He gave a mewling protest. Gods. Gods. Gods. So damn close. "Please!"

"Answer me."

"I did, dammit!" Desperation colored Yohji's voice and he blinked sweat from his eyes. His heart thudded so loud against his chest he was sure it would break free of its confines, blood crashed through his veins making hearing almost impossible.

Twist. Scream. "Damn you!" Aya wouldn't let him collapse. The hand grasping his hip was sure to leave bruises. Yohjisquirmed, desperation pouring through him.

"Yohji."

"You k-know better." Yohji stuttered.

He let his head loll forward. Breathe. Breathe. A small whimper of sound coming from him. Aya held him still. He was going to fucking kill Fujimiya when he got loose. He growled his frustration. Damn cocktease.

The ache in his balls and the need rushing through him wailed as Aya repeated the procedure. Again. And again. The fucking prick would bring him to the height of mewling entreaty only to back off, leaving Yohjitrembling. He never gave Yohji enough to find his release. He refused to release his relentless grip so that Yohji could rub against the mattress and bring himself off. Pleasure so sharp and pure swept through Yohji like razors.

He was in heaven. He was in hell. Aya was too fucking good at this. Yohji was going freaking crazy. He squirmed and writhed beseechingly, dignity long lost and forgotten, pride a shattered thing.

Aya was whispering to him. His voice was like rich, dark chocolate pouring over him. Damp breaths licked against his ear, the nape of his neck. Kisses were peppered along his back, his ass, against the crease where leg and butt joined. Every square inch of exposed flesh was paid homage with lips and teeth and tongue by Aya.

"Tell me, koibito, have you?"

"Wha-at?" Yohji's voice cracked.

"Been with another man?" Aya was relentless.

Yohji should have known that. He'd worked with the man long enough. Yohji gave a small sound, suspiciously like a sob of defeat. He shook his head.

"Not enough, Yo-chan." Aya punished him with pleasure.

Yohji took a huge gulp of air, but only managed to push out a small, muffled whisper. "No." His hips described small arcs, moving futilely, finding no relief in Aya's light teasing touches. The fingers that twisted and teased and taunted, sparking bright sharp lights of pleasure that bordered on pain were not quite enough.

"Aa." Silence so fragile that Yohji thought the thundering of his heart would shatter it into a million small pieces. Aya abruptly removed his fingers, wiping them on Yohji's thigh.

Yohji moaned a protest as Aya's fingers left his cock. "Please, Aya."

Yohji was ready to beg. Past ready, he'd been begging. Humiliation burned as sharply as the tears stinging beneath his lashes.

"Shhh. It'll be alright." Aya moved behind him and Yohji went rigid. He knew what was coming, as the mattress shifted and dipped with Aya's movements.

He imagined the pale milk-colored flesh of Aya's thighs as his legs were pushed impossibly wider by Aya's knees. He felt the heat of Aya's cock press against the loosened pucker. The slick slide of flesh was loud in his ears and he imagined Aya anointing the hot pulsing flesh jutting from deep red curls at his groin.

He realized belatedly that he hadn't really noticed Aya naked. Had entirely missed his chance. His stomached lurched madly as Aya's hand cupped his hip, controlling Yohji's movements and dragging him backwards onto his cock. He felt the first sharp push against the relaxed muscle.

Pain, dull and thudding, stretching, stretching until Yohji panicked, wondering just how fucking big Aya was anyway. He lunged forward trying to escape, but there was nowhere to go. He whimpered as Aya's fingers brushed his softening cock, coaxing it back to full hardness. Pain sweetened by Aya's fingers laced through his trembling body and Yohji blinked sweat from his hazy gaze.

"Relax, Yohji. Don't make it difficult."

Difficult?! Yohji choked back a hysterical laugh. Oh. Yeah. "Say that when someone shoves a lodge pole up your ass." He muttered.

"Breathe."

Oh. Yeah. That was Aya's voice. A whispered entreaty, a promise of more to come. Yohjiswallowed air. He could do this. He wanted this. With Aya's hands claiming him and the slow inexorable push as Aya slid deeper. The sweet thrill of arousal running counterpoint as Aya forced his way into his body.

Sharp aching pain lanced from the base of his spine and Yohji spread his legs wider, arching away from the pain. Aya followed him down--determined as always to get what he wanted--until Yohji could feel Aya nestled between his legs, his balls slapping flesh.

"Stop." Yohjigasped out. "Please. Stop. Give me a moment."

He was surprised when Aya complied. The man had no mercy. It was part of what Yohjiloved about him. Aya leaned heavily against Yohji, one hand rubbing his tight belly soothingly while he continued to fondle Yohji's arousal.

Naked flesh slid against naked flesh. Heat radiated in waves everywhere Aya touched. His heart pounded harshly like the adrenal rush just before a mission. Yohji trembled. K'so. Breathing was suddenly an impossible task with his body sending mixed messages.

"You're beautiful like this, Yo-chan." Aya sounded strained, his voice thick and sultry. The effort to remain still laced through his dark honeyed tones.

Yohji would think about the words later. When they made more sense than the soft, calming noises that he currently translated them as. Yohji had never known it could feel quite like this. Pain adding a delicious spice that was unexpected and more poignant for its piquancy.

"K'so. It hurts, Ayan." The nickname slipped out. Just one more in a long list of errors that Yohji knew would come back to haunt him later. Much later, he prayed as Aya began to move slowly.

The pain eased gradually as Aya began to thrust into Yohji. As Aya moved against him, the slow drag of slick flesh and firm, demanding touches sent jolts staggering through him until he was moving beneath the man like a high-class whore. He wanted more. Needed more.

This was more than a mutual wank between friends, much more than casual sex. This was a claiming.

Angling his thrusts so that the tip of his cock stroked over Yohji's center of pleasure with each snap of his hips, Aya brought a strangled cry from Yohji.

With each determined thrust into Yohji's body, with each writhing cry pulled from Yohji's lips, Aya branded him, owned him and Yohjilet him. Deep and ruthless and without mercy, Aya was making him over, forcing him to acknowledge his own need and Aya's mastery.

Soft words of need and surrender mixed with incoherent cries of pleasure fled Yohji's lips.

Hidden somewhere in his subconscious, he knew he had lost this battle long ago, the moment he had seen the redhead asleep in his bed like some lost princess, brightly burning against the dark silk sheets of Yohji's bed. He gave himself over to the pleasure, his mind shutting down as he thrashed between the twin pleasures.

Harder and faster Aya rode him. Somewhere far off, Yohji thought it was his voice begging for it. Higher and higher until Yohjithought he was flying, screams and moans pulled from his lips. Fire flashed through him, like magnesium beneath a match. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take it. FUCK.

He pushed frantically against Aya, his muscles clenching tight on the invader in his ass as his orgasm crashed through him. Stars danced bright behind blind eyes and he opened his mouth in a raw-voiced cry. Everything was both more intense and far away as if he was floating in a sea of sensation.

Aya plunged against him, two, three more times and then his fingers clenched on Yohji's hips, and he went rigid, crying Yohji's name out in that deep molasses voice. It seemed to Yohjithat he could feel the scalding pulse of Aya's ejaculation as he came. He tasted salt tears on his lips. He would think about that later.

Shudders wracked Yohji as Aya collapsed on top of him, rolling him over and into his arms. Yohji hissed as the belt tugged at his sore wrists.

Aya stretched to tug Yohji's bound arms loose, his body caressing him full length. Tenderly, he unwrapped the leather belt and rubbing Yohji's reddened wrists with his thumbs.

"This will leave bruises."

Aya had just fucked him through the mattress, given him one of the most glorious days of sex that he'd ever had, had had his own orgasm, and yet still exuded intensity.

Yohji stared up into the mysterious amethyst eyes sleepily. "'m not worried about it." He mumbled.

A small smile curved Aya's lips as he studied him watchfully. Aya didn't smile often. Yohji grasped that to him, his lips curving in an answering smile as the slender redhead slid down next to him. He pulled Yohji's head onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms about him.

Some small part of Yohjimarveled at how safe he felt encompassed in Aya's arms. He let himself drift, not really aware of much more than the calming breath of the man beside him. Aya's heart beat strong and steadily beneath his ear. How long he stayed that way, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he slept. Maybe Aya slept. He didn't know.

He did know it was cold when Aya moved away. The mattress dipped and Yohjishifted just a little as the swordsman slipped quietly through the door. Yohjifelt his heart clench.

He rolled onto his back, one arm thrown across his eyes to blot out the graying afternoon light. It had felt nice--better than nice with Aya wrapped around him like he was some precious treasure. He'd felt safe, loved. Loved? Yohjisnorted. Fuck. He flinched as he sat up, a slow burn deep in his bowels making itself rather unpleasantly known.

Damn. Shit. Fuck. That hurt. He cursed softly under his breath, not loudly enough to draw attention.

Sex. Sighing, Yohji reflected that sex was a lot like eating. After a while you were empty again.

He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers caught on tangles. For just a little bit, the tiniest bit of forever, he had fooled himself into believing Aya was the answer.

But Aya was gone. Probably hoping Yohji would take the hint before he returned. Somehow he didn't think the hollow left by Aya's absence would ever be filled. He closed his eyes briefly against the painful thought of innumerable brief flings as he tried to fill such a void.

Dammit. He knew better. Time to leave before Aya booted him out. He didn't think he could survive a return to the glacial detente that had existed between them before today.

He slid to the edge of the bed, the constant ache at the base of his spine a solemn reminder of what had just happened. As if he needed one.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Yohji looked up. Aya was standing in the doorway, a thick robe wrapped about his slim body.

Unable to meet Aya's penetrating gaze, and didn't that thought make his face burn, Yohji's eyes slid away. "I--" his voice broke. That hadn't worked well. He could hear Aya stalk across the floor, stiff legged and angry.

Shit. He didn't want to fight right now. He had to go somewhere and sort out his thoughts. At least Aya was staying, now. Wasn't he?

Aya grasped his chin and pulled him around to face him. Yohji slapped his hands away, glaring. "You are staying, aren't you?" Yohji wanted to curl into himself; his voice shook just the barest bit. Trust Aya not to let it go unnoticed.

An angry glitter of narrow violet met his inquiry. "Hai." Aya's gaze swept over him and Yohjiflushed under the heat of it, but Aya refused to let him look away. "Now answer me."

Blinking, Yohji thought quickly. Time for a little face-saving, whatever that was worth. "Well, I thought I'd let Omi know. We were kinda loud. I'm surprised they haven't broken down the door to see if I killed you or not."

A smile quirked one side of Aya's mouth as he arched a disbelieving brow. With a gentle shove against Yohji's chest, he sent him tumbling back onto the mattress. He sat down beside him, taking the warm wet cloth in his hands and began washing the dried streaks of semen from Yohji's belly and thighs.

He waved away Yohji's protest. "No. Stay. I'll handle Omi."

Yohji found himself burning with embarrassment as Aya casually spread his legs, swiping the cloth down there, gaze intent upon his work. "I'm not a puppy, Aya." He complained his voice a little breathy.

"No. You're a very naughty kitten. If you move, I will punish you."

Yohjigaped. Was Aya joking? What kind of punishment? He found himself hardening at the thought. Shit, Kudou, get a freaking hold of yourself.

Aya watched him seriously, before heading for the door.

"I--I--" Shit. He was reduced to stuttering. "What are you going to tell him? Them?"

Aya slipped into his jeans, not bothering with the black silk boxers on the floor. He wriggled a bit, leaving the buttons of the fly undone.

Yohji could see the curls of crimson hair trying to escape. He blinked. Aya looked so deliciously--wanton.

A challenging tilt of his head, crimson eartails brushing pale skin. Now Yohji was certain that Aya was smiling. "That you and I have finally come to an understanding. And that I will be staying."

Aya opened the door.

"And that's it?" Yohji asked, not sure what he expected to hear.

"No. They will need to know that you are changing rooms."

"What?" He blinked stupidly.

"You will be moving in with me. Tomorrow, we will get your things."

Aya shut the door. Yohji stared. A slow languorous warmth curled through him like warm sake. He grinned stupidly. K'so. "You are such a prick." He collapsed back on the mattress. Sleep stole over him, his dreams filled with rough hands and muscular arms and slow, sweet smiles. He murmured softly.

Warm fingers were idly tracing the tattoo on his arm. "Aya?" He murmured sleepily.

A huff of laughter answered that, and the fingers stilled. "Who did you expect, Yohji?"

Yohji had never head such warmth and welcome in another human voice. Not aimed at him, anyway. Never had he imagined the cold redhead capable of such underlying tenderness. His heart ached with it. Fuck. He was not going to cry.

"How did it go?" What he was really asking was how did Ken and Omi take the news and if they were good with it. He couldn't really ask much more.

Aya was silent for a moment as if mulling over his reply. "They'll become accustomed to the idea. They are adaptable."

"Sure." Yohjiwent to sit up; Aya wrapped his arms around him laying his head on his shoulder. "It's a sin to love another man."

Aya turned him in the cradle of his arms and Yohjilet him. "What's another sin among all the others?"

Yohji shook his head, attempting to slide out of Aya's hold again.

"No."

"No? You're fucking bossy, you know that, Aya?"

"Get used to it."

Get used to it. Yohji lay back down and smiled. He could do that.

Finis