Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Lay Down Your Arms ❯ Chapter 1

Aya frowned mightily -- the frown was of such magnitude he even noticed himself doing it. He'd woken up tired and stiff and cranky, and his back and shoulders hurt to an absurd degree. The discomfort was so extreme he had taken to thinking of it as some kind of sentient, malevolent presence. Which particularly annoyed him because there was no good reason for it -- no mission last night, no strenuous workout yesterday; he didn't even remember moving any heavy plants. He'd been tense, but he was always tense. It defied logic.

 

He shrugged several times, first one side, and then the other, then reached back and dug his fingers into one of the more evil of the sore spots, which actually caused him to yelp. It didn't help, either -- in fact, now it hurt more. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

 

Someone had. Looking indecently amused, Yoji flowed across the room toward him. “Having some trouble there, Aya?”

 

Aya tried to ratchet up the frown's intensity but realized he didn't really have the stamina right now. He let it go, believing strongly in living to fight another day. Aya decided to ignore the problem, hoping Yoji might get distracted and wander off to flirt with some crushed-out teenager with important questions about the pink Gerberaras.

 

Unfortunately, there was nobody else in the store.

 

“Did you sleep wrong?”

 

Aya tried to make sense of the question, but nothing happened. Whir, click; whir, click. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You know, sometimes you sleep in the wrong position and get a crick in your neck?”

 

It sounded like an answer, and yet... Aya shook his head slowly.

 

Yoji's eyes got big. “You're going to tell me that's never happened to you before?”

 

“That's what I would tell you if I were going to answer you -- which I'm not.”

 

“Come on, Aya -- that's just not possible. That's happened to everyone.”

 

Just what Aya loved to hear, more evidence that he was a freak who walked among men. He turned around to leave, but Yoji grabbed his shoulder. Which hurt so much he yelped again.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

“OK, Aya, that's just fucking weird, but whatever. You obviously need some help. Let me...”

 

“I bet that's what you say to all the girls,” Aya muttered.

 

“Come on,” Yoji said firmly. Aya hated it when Yoji got that no-nonsense tone to his voice because whatever it was he had in mind, you weren't going to get out of it. Not without more of a fight than Aya had in him at the moment, anyway.

 

“Come on where?” Aya snapped, wincing at the note of petulance.

 

“Upstairs.” Yoji grabbed his wrist. “We're going upstairs, and I'm going to rub your back.” Yoji was already pulling him toward the door.

 

“No. Who's going to run the store?”

 

“I know how important it is to you that we provide a pleasant consumer experience to each and every person who darkens the door of our stupid pseudo-day job,” Yoji said, gesturing toward the still-empty shop, “but sometimes you just have to take a break from the unstinting customer service and come upstairs for a God-damned backrub.” He gave Aya's arm an assertive tug.

 

Aya didn't even put up a token resistance. Why bother? It had been all over at the first yelp anyway. Damned traitorous automatic reflexes.

 

Yoji held onto him the whole way -- through the door, up the stairs, and into Yoji's room, where he finally dropped his hold so he could push Aya onto the bed. “Assume the position, Fujimiya.”

 

Grumbling, Aya jerked his t-shirt over his head and, tossing it to the floor, rolled over onto his stomach. Yoji climbed on top of him, straddling his upper thighs. He cracked his knuckles as if preparing for a serious workout.

 

“That's disgusting, Yoji. Just get on with it.”

 

“Oh, Aya,” he replied in a breathless voice. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say those words.”

 

“How do you feel about these words? Shut the fuck up and rub my back or get the hell off me.”

 

Sighing theatrically, Yoji employed uncanny accuracy in shoving the heel of his hand into the sorest spot on Aya's back.

 

“Arrgghhh! That's it -- leave me alone.”

 

“Sissy.”

 

“Sadistic cretin.”

 

Yoji countered Aya's insult with two more painfully precise jabs at Aya's knotted shoulder muscles. Ascertaining that he'd found the very most agonizing areas on Aya's entire body, he dug in and refused to let up the pressure.

 

Aya managed not to scream again, but there was a remote possibility he might throw up. This would not do. “Yoji.” He'd tried for that stern, authoritative tone that usually stopped everyone in their tracks, but what he managed fell short of authoritative by a mile, landing closer to strained and weak. This was really quite frustrating; also embarrassingly, shockingly painful. Aya was starting to experience some homicidal urges. And a touch of claustrophobia.

 

“What?” Yoji asked. He sounded so happy.

 

Aya closed his eyes and concentrated, breathing into the pain. He would not be defeated by some inexplicable failure of his own body to align its own muscles properly while he was asleep, nor Yoji's overly gung-ho approach to treating this malady.

 

Relief flooded him as Yoji finally let up the pressure, only to be chased away immediately by a fresh flood of hurt.

 

“Thank you, Yoji, that's much better,” he ground out. “You can stop now.”

 

“Oh, I don't think so. I haven't even worked on this yet,” he said, gleefully prodding at a piece of Aya's upper back in a way that made him scream into the pillow.

 

“Son of a... That's enough. Stop. Now.”

 

Yoji hummed cheerfully, obeying not at all. “And we'll need to do this again later, too.”

 

The hell we will, Aya thought. He would sneak out of the flower shop this afternoon, after Ken came in for his shift but before Yoji finished his... “Aarrgghhh!” His planning was interrupted when another ferocious dig ripped a cry from his throat. “God damn it, Yoji, stop it!”

 

Yoji was ignoring him, merrily poking and prodding and generally wreaking havoc on Aya's equilibrium. Giving up, Aya forced himself to lie still and relax as much as possible. He had to admit that as much as he wasn't enjoying it, what Yoji was doing seemed to be working, and he hurt a little less with each pitiless jab and poke. It was probably worth it, but the amount of gratification Yoji was taking was unseemly.

 

Yoji finally decided the torture was enough and got off Aya's back, sitting next to him on the bed. Aya flopped over, sweaty and wrung out and breathing harshly, too high in his chest -- panic breathing. His eyes remained closed.

 

“We really will need to do this again, probably a couple more times today, and maybe tomorrow, too.” Yoji didn't even try to temper the audible smirk that was his specialty.

 

“If we ever do this again, we're going to have to establish a safe word,” Aya muttered.

 

Yoji laughed but otherwise kept his mouth shut as Aya caught his breath. In fact, he was too quiet. Suspicious, Aya opened his eyes. “What?”

 

“What do you mean, what? Nothing.”

 

“You're staring at me.”

 

“I'm... watching you.”

 

“Semantics. Why are you watching me?”

 

Yoji continued with the aggressive watching, clearly mulling something over. He finally shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

“Nothing, my ass. Tell me.”

 

Yoji sighed, looking a little bit hunted. Aya felt much better, having put the shoe back on the other foot, where it belonged.

 

“Don't kill me.”

 

“If I had a dime for every time I'd heard that one,” Aya mused aloud.

 

“Seriously,” Yoji agreed, nodding. “I mean it, though.”

 

“They all do.” Aya was curious now. “I can't unequivocally promise something like that, Yoji.” Yoji smiled. “But surely it isn't really going to come to that. Just tell me.”

 

“No, this might do it.” Yoji sighed again. “OK. It's just... you're lying there, all loose and panting and sweaty and...” he shrugged helplessly. “It's, um... Yeah.”

 

“That's supposed to be an explanation?”

 

Yoji's eyebrows furrowed. “You're a lot smarter than this on missions. Read between the lines, Aya.”

 

Aya hated it when people refused to say what they meant and expected him to pick up on social cues. This sort of thing put him at a huge disadvantage, and he resented it. Reviewing the last several minutes, he finally ventured, “You think I should take a shower?”

 

Yoji grinned. “No.” He moved closer, leaned in and kissed the tip of Aya's nose. “That's what I mean.”

 

“Oh,” Aya said, surprised. There had never been any kissing, before. They'd fucked, but there'd never been anything tender, or romantic. But still... “Why would I kill you for that?”

 

Yoji just looked at him, his expression inscrutable. “I never know with you.” His voice sounded husky. “I just want...” He trailed off, apparently at a loss.

 

Aya waited patiently. “You want?” he finally prompted.

 

“I want to fuck. And I want it to mean something. I don't want to need an excuse to touch you.” He looked into Aya's eyes, searching, then smiled a little. “I want to kiss your nose again.” The smile widened. “And other stuff.”

 

Well, that had been largely understandable. Aya wished Yoji would say what he meant more often. He sat up, feeling warmer toward Yoji but still not wanting to give him the advantage of height when he didn't have to. “You want to -- date me or something?”

 

“Maybe more something, just at the moment, but yeah, that's the general idea.”

 

The wattage of Yoji's grin, when it was stripped of the usual bullshit, was absolutely dazzling. Aya poked gently at the edge of his emotions, checking for clues as to how he felt about this development. He'd shielded himself from their fury for so long, it wasn't easy to just engage them at the drop of a hat. He didn't feel any resistance to the idea, though. Then he took a quick physical reading, trusting physical reactions more than emotions anyway, and decided that his increased heart rate and insipient hard-on would seem to indicate that he was at least on board with the “or something” part.

 

“I'm willing to, um, consider that,” Aya finally said, attempting a flirtatious delivery. It must have worked -- Yoji was giving him the come-hither smile. And he really wouldn't mind going tither, but it was the middle of the day and they were supposed to be at work. “But right now, we need to get back downstairs and reopen the store.”

 

“Are you sure?” Yoji was channeling the sexy with remarkable agility. He brought one hand up and lay it on Aya's chest, fingertips brushing over the skin near his nipple. “Because I really liked having my hands all over you.” He moved closer, landing a tender kiss on Aya's cheek. “And I'd really like to make you scream some more.” He put his other hand on Aya's side and stroked over his ribs and down his stomach, under the waistband of his jeans, coming to rest very, very close to his dick, which was straining to reach him.

 

“OK,” Aya finally said, too distracted to add anything further. There was something about the flower shop, but who the hell cared?

 

Yoji closed the distance and took hold of Aya's erection, rubbing precome over the head with his thumb, tight, tiny circles that made Aya close his eyes and bite his lip. He leaned in close, breathing into Aya's mouth and whispering, “This is our first kiss.” His lips brushed against Aya's gently, then fervently, the transformation so sudden and powerful it made him dizzy. Apparently aware of the effect he was having, Yoji took advantage and pushed Aya back down on the bed. He lay on top, holding himself up on his arms, hips aligned with Aya's and pressing insistently.

 

It was good. Aya was vaguely thankful that his shoulders and neck hurt less now so he could enjoy it more fully.

 

When Yoji finally ended the kiss, Aya felt completely addled. He was also thrusting erratically into Yoji's hips and moaning quietly -- not very dignified, but this was better than dignity.

 

He'd never just lain there and let Yoji take care of everything, but he found that he liked it. This was his first experience with the fabled Kudoh magnetism in action, and he had to admit the man was capable. More than capable. If anything, he was better than he said he was.

 

“Ummm...” Aya said, belatedly not-answering a question he hadn't processed.

 

Yoji laughed, a deep, rich, knowing chuckle. “Don't worry. I've got you, baby.” His voice sounded like honey, melting all over Aya's id. It made his chest tighten and his dick throb.

 

As good as their frenzied post-killing sex had been, this was much better. This was a whole new ballgame.

 

“You said something about fucking?” Aya finally managed.

 

“Um hmmm.” Aya felt the rumble of Yoji's answer against his lips. “Also something,” Yoji said. “Remember? This is the something. First the something, then the fucking.”

 

Right. Something. Yoji wanted... something...

 

Yoji pulled away and looked down at him, smiling and looking slightly stoned. “You're beautiful when you're all blissed out, Aya. I've never seen you like this.”

 

Nobody had ever seen him like this. “I'm...” He couldn't remember. He didn't care.

 

Yoji chuckled again. “Yeah. Me too.”

 

How did Yoji manage to remain in control? Practice makes perfect, Aya supposed. Yoji was kissing him again, and everything was indeed perfect -- perfect pressure, just the right amount of tongue, perfect combination of unbelievable sweetness and shocking sensuality. Or maybe it was the other way around. He'd never experienced anything like this, never had any idea it might be possible. Yoji was touching his face with one hand, stroking into his hair, caressing his cheek, rubbing over the corner of his mouth, slipping fingertips over his jaw, sliding the hand over his throat and then around to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Aya's neck. It felt like a gesture of ownership, and Aya was amazed at how much he liked it. God, he was so hard, it hurt. A very good kind of hurt.

 

“Fuck me,” he whispered, voice low and gravelly. He needed... more than he could understand at the moment. He also needed to come, and that he could take care of.

 

“God, Aya, I want you so much it hurts,” Yoji groaned.

 

Exactly. “Then fuck me,” he said. Really, the foreplay was nice, but he had his limits.

 

“Is that a yes?” Yoji stared down at him, looking like he was definitely ready to start removing clothes, but not until he got an answer. What the hell was he asking? God, couldn't they talk later?

 

“Is that... what?”

 

“I told you what I wanted this to mean. Before. Are you willing to accept my terms?”

 

“I'm not getting any blood to my brain right now, Yoji. Simple and direct, OK?”

 

“Be my boyfriend. Yes or no?”

 

“Are you using -- whatever it is you do -- to coerce me?”

 

“Just explaining my conditions.”

 

“Can we discuss it later? After I come?”

 

“This means something to me, Aya. I need to know.”

 

Boyfriend. The word was in his database -- it had been Aya-chan's favorite, but not something he'd ever considered in relation to himself. Aya forced himself to calm down a little. This was a problem that required his attention.

 

Yoji seemed to have other ideas, though. He was thrusting rhythmically, hard and fast, his cock lined up just right with Aya's, and his breathing was loud and harsh in Aya's ear. He slid one hand under Aya's ass, squeezing, then fingering him through the thin denim, reminding him how much he wanted it. He groaned.

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

What was... Yoji wanted... something... Yoji's other hand slid between their stomachs and popped the button of his jeans. His fingers just pulled at the zip, less than an inch, then stopped. Yoji wanted... It didn't matter. Yoji could have whatever he wanted. “Yes,” Aya yelped.

 

Yoji had their pants unzipped and pulled down before Aya could even finish the thought. And then Yoji's fingers were in his ass, careful and adept, and Yoji's tongue was in his mouth, demanding surrender. And Aya was ready. He thrust up against Yoji once, twice more, and moaned into his mouth as he came.

 

Yoji growled deep in his throat, and Aya felt his cock twitch weakly. He dimly perceived that Yoji was pushing at him, and he allowed himself to be rolled over roughly, moving only enough to get his face out of the pillow so he could breathe. He certainly noticed the fingers sliding inside, slick and warm with his own come, coaxing him open. And although the urgency was gone, the longing remained. He pushed back on Yoji's fingers, muttering something even he couldn't understand.

 

Unable to hold back anymore, Yoji pushed himself in, meeting very little resistance. Even this felt different, although they'd done it many times. Of course, Aya didn't usually pay this much attention to what Yoji was doing, or Yoji himself, for that matter. Because right now, Aya was focused on Yoji, wrapped up in a way he'd never been with someone he wasn't about to kill. Time had slowed down, allowing him to register every movement, every harsh intake of breath, every smell.

 

Making a laudable effort, Yoji slowed himself down and reached around Aya's hip to play with his dick. He didn't think he was going to come again, but it felt good. And Yoji felt good inside him, so thick and so hard, hitting his sweet spot with just about every stroke... Yoji was whispering into his ear, growling, whining, occasionally, with an apparently limitless need. And Aya held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut against an orgasm that surprised him with an almost brutal intensity. The world narrowed to nothing but a flash of light behind his eyelids and the painful hammering of his heart.

 

Self-awareness returned slowly, and the first thing he noticed was Yoji's voice, buzzing like a mosquito in his ear. It was nice, actually -- comforting. Satisfying. But Jesus Christ, didn't he ever shut up?

 

"Well?"

 

"Hhunphf?"

 

"I said, do you still think I, you know, coerced you?"

 

"Mmmph."

 

"It's not so bad, right?"

 

"Nmph."

 

Yoji was smiling, Aya could hear it in his voice. "Now, about that safe word..."