Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ How to Get Killed in Ten Easy Screw-Ups ❯ Chapter 3
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KD Sarge 
Escalation happens.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 08.06.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 438 | Visits: 611 | Status: Work In Progress
Escalation happens.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 08.06.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 438 | Visits: 611 | Status: Work In Progress
me no own. me love mucho.
*****
“But Yo-tan...” Aya muttered, and giggled, sliding his hands over Yohji’s shoulders. “Don’ wanna wait...”
Yep, never give the man bubbly again...Yohji paused to enjoy his lover’s body pressed against his back, shook his head and stepped into the room. Two pleasures for the price of one, if he could just resist a few steps longer... “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun.”
Aya stopped and pouted. “His bed’s too small.”
Che, he was right. No way were they going to have any fun, worrying about falling off constantly. Hmm, just start on the—no. What the hell was it with these traditional Japanese floors? Yohji had thick carpeting in his room.
There was a futon, he remembered. A roll-up one, for when Omi felt the need to sleep next to a wounded teammate. Yohji squelched the guilt at the thought. The boy deserved this. The chibi needed to learn not to mess with his Aya-time.
“Yooo-taaann,” Aya breathed, sagging against his back and breathing in his ear and sliding both hands into his pants, “wanna fuck, Yo-tann...”
Oh gods, did it matter where?
Futon. Get the futon. It had to be in the closet. He opened the door.
“Bottoms up!” Aya repeated Yohji’s earlier toast, and tripped him in. Landed on him with a purr. “Mmm, Yotan, how lovely hard you are...”
“Ay-yip!” as the redhead got a good grip. His lover giggled.
“Gotcha now,” he said, stroking. “Wanna fuck, wanna fuck, wanna fuck...”
“errrrggg...” Yohji said intelligently. Aya giggled again.
“Look,” he said, clapping a hat on his head. “I’m Omi!”
“If you’re Omi, get your hands the hell off THAT!”
Aya pouted, and removed his hands instead of the hat. Damn it—
“Then,” he said, and pounced, “how about this?” He tried to tie Yohji’s hands with Omi’s mission scarf, but he was too drunk and Yohji easily turned the tables. Then he reached out and took the hat off. Aya snapped at his fingers. He laughed and lifted his lover, tossed something down to clear a hook to hold the scarf. And when he had the redhead trussed and panting, flushed and hard and beautiful in Omi’s closet...
Now this was an anniversary, he thought.
****
*****
“But Yo-tan...” Aya muttered, and giggled, sliding his hands over Yohji’s shoulders. “Don’ wanna wait...”
Yep, never give the man bubbly again...Yohji paused to enjoy his lover’s body pressed against his back, shook his head and stepped into the room. Two pleasures for the price of one, if he could just resist a few steps longer... “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun.”
Aya stopped and pouted. “His bed’s too small.”
Che, he was right. No way were they going to have any fun, worrying about falling off constantly. Hmm, just start on the—no. What the hell was it with these traditional Japanese floors? Yohji had thick carpeting in his room.
There was a futon, he remembered. A roll-up one, for when Omi felt the need to sleep next to a wounded teammate. Yohji squelched the guilt at the thought. The boy deserved this. The chibi needed to learn not to mess with his Aya-time.
“Yooo-taaann,” Aya breathed, sagging against his back and breathing in his ear and sliding both hands into his pants, “wanna fuck, Yo-tann...”
Oh gods, did it matter where?
Futon. Get the futon. It had to be in the closet. He opened the door.
“Bottoms up!” Aya repeated Yohji’s earlier toast, and tripped him in. Landed on him with a purr. “Mmm, Yotan, how lovely hard you are...”
“Ay-yip!” as the redhead got a good grip. His lover giggled.
“Gotcha now,” he said, stroking. “Wanna fuck, wanna fuck, wanna fuck...”
“errrrggg...” Yohji said intelligently. Aya giggled again.
“Look,” he said, clapping a hat on his head. “I’m Omi!”
“If you’re Omi, get your hands the hell off THAT!”
Aya pouted, and removed his hands instead of the hat. Damn it—
“Then,” he said, and pounced, “how about this?” He tried to tie Yohji’s hands with Omi’s mission scarf, but he was too drunk and Yohji easily turned the tables. Then he reached out and took the hat off. Aya snapped at his fingers. He laughed and lifted his lover, tossed something down to clear a hook to hold the scarf. And when he had the redhead trussed and panting, flushed and hard and beautiful in Omi’s closet...
Now this was an anniversary, he thought.
****