Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Läuterung ❯ bestrafen ( Chapter 1 )

Läuterung (Bestrafen)

By Eline

Warnings: Sado-masochism. Dom/sub. Bondage. Yaoi (yes, *sex* is involved). Dark adult themes. Please do not read if any of these squicks you something wicked. If it floats your boat, sure . . .

Spoilers: For most of the series, yes.

Surgeon General's Warning: Smoking cigarettes may cause lung cancer. But if you're anime bishounen enough, go ahead.

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The lighter flicked on in the dim light of the room, spitting out a thin orange flame.

I drew in a comforting breath of smoke and put away the lighter. "Are you sure about this?"

Cold, unblinking violet eyes met my gaze steadily. "Yes. I screwed up."

Suppressing a sigh, I peeled off my gloves. So much for a nice peaceful night at home. (Yes, even Kudou Youji has some early nights, believe it or not.) I did not know much about the situation at the human chess match beyond the mission report. Aya's . . . distraction had been uncharacteristic to say the least.

"One last time--are you sure?"

"Yes."

I stubbed out the cigarette. "Safe word."

Aya hesitated a moment. "Red. As usual."

It had been hard at first, getting him to use safe words. But I wouldn't play any other way. No matter what Aya thought, I knew that a "stop" signal was needed. There were lines that one had to cross in this game--if it could be called a game--and Aya had a lot of lines that I was leery of.

I've always wondered, ever since the time I had found him in a certain club catering to a very specific kind of clientele, if Aya was really bi. Or . . . otherwise. With Aya one would never tell. He was still, in his own irritatingly stoic way, a mystery.

Until we were *here*, in my room. Ken was out. Omi was sleeping because he had a test early the next day. No one was in to hear us. That was why Aya had chosen this time of all times to come *here*.

Here, we would keep Weiß's business in Weiß, where no strangers would intrude and no secrets needed to go beyond the door.

"Fine. Strip."

Aya obeyed. The simple shedding of his garments was something else here. It was . . . different. Shoes first. Socks, shirt, belt and jeans followed. He was not wearing boxers that day.

In the beginning, Aya had flushed a lot when he had revealed himself in front of me. He still coloured easily, but moved less hesitantly now as he divested himself of his material shields. Without being told, he knelt on the floor and placed his belt between his teeth.

That was the pact. If I accepted that length of leather, then the game would begin in earnest. I reached out and Aya obediently relinquished the belt. It was one of his thinner ones.

But it was Aya's choice. Always his choice.

I wrapped the end with the belt buckle around my hand. "Hands behind your head. Begin."

"I screwed up the mission. I was distracted. As a leader, I have failed."

Naked, with his arms raised and folded behind his head, knees wide apart, Aya was a sight to behold. I could appreciate the lean lines of his body most of the time, but this was not one of those times. Staring straight ahead of him, Aya was purging his own demons as he knelt, exposed.

"I endangered my team mates--"

The belt had snaked out to land a light blow on the flat planes of his stomach. This was just the beginning, but I liked the element of surprise, and so I circled as Aya continued.

"I shouldn't have let my own personal affairs take priority over the mission--"

Another one. To his buttocks this time. Aya would probably never tell anyone what his "personal affair" with one of the guests at the human chess match were, least of all me. To hear Omi tell of it, Aya had gone berserk for a while that night.

"There is no excuse--"

The next one was harder. Across his chest. Hard enough to make him gasp a little.

"--no excuse for my negligence--"

He was always hard on himself. Aya was *leader*. He took it as a personal slight to his competence if a mission went awry.

His lower back again. Then his buttocks, which made him stumble slightly over his next words. The earlier lashes were beginning to redden, contrasting vividly with his pale skin.

"Ahh---No excuse for endangering the lives of my team--"

A few more strokes to his belly and buttocks. A fine layer of sweat coated his reddened skin and he was breathing in short pants. Soon, the sound of leather striking flesh would overrule speech.

I took my time. I had removed my shirt a few minutes ago and was concentrating on the smooth expanse of Aya's chest. Trailing one hand over his pectorals, I took hold of his left nipple and pinched, hard.

Aya's eyes widened with the pain.

"Touch yourself there." I was expecting Aya to give the safe word anytime now. These games depended on *Aya*, not on me.

But the safe word did not come. Eyes downcast, the redhead moved to fondle his nipples. Long, tapered fingers teased pink flesh into pert little nubs. The sight alone was enough to arouse a marble statue.

"Stop. Hands behind your head."

Looking down at the bowed head, I suppressed another sigh. Aya was pushing himself again.

"Aya . . ." I coaxed him to look up, silently urging him to end the game now. But the plea in those violet eyes was painfully obvious.

"Please, Youji . . ."

Aya *never* begged. But he was now. That was the depth of his desperation. His need for a purge that could never be enough. Mechanically, I drew back and brought the belt down sharply across his chest.

The pain from the blow to his sensitised nipples was enough to bring a sheen of wetness to Aya's eyes. When the strap cracked down again on his ass, he bit back a moan.

Oh Aya . . .

The third time the belt fell on his chest, Aya shut his eyes as the tears rolled freely down his cheeks. I stopped, backing off as Aya found his own catharsis. I wanted to be there for him when the shields went down, when he was truly naked to the world, but that was not my place. I could not follow him to where he was now.

"It's all my fault . . ." I could hardly hear Aya's hoarse whisper but I knew that Weiß's leader was not referring to the mission. Aya was not *here* at the moment.

He was far away, remembering something else that had scarred his heart beyond repair.

At that point, I seriously wanted another cigarette. Seeing Aya . . . *cry* was rare. I've had the dubious honour of seeing the last two times Aya had cried in the past year. It had been . . . disturbing. But I would not be privy to the grief that was slowly devouring him from within. That was Aya's alone. A line he could not cross.

When Aya's sobs had subsided and he seemed marginally calmer, I crossed the floor to where he knelt. "Aya . . . are you okay n--"

And got the shock of my life when Aya leaned his head against my thigh.

The second shock came when the redhead started rubbing his head gently against the fabric of my pants. The fabric covering the crotch of my pants to be precise. I had been semi-aroused before, but the sudden stimulation caused me to harden quickly.

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