Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Let's get it on ❯ All that we see or seem... ( Chapter 6 )

Yoji had urgently wanted to lie next to Aya and hold him, even though the corrugated metal floor of the delivery truck was not exactly conducive to full-on afterglow. Apparently anticipating this move, Aya had easily countered and maneuvered himself into the dominant position. They were sitting up, Aya holding him from behind, arms around Yoji's waist and face pressed against his back. Which wasn't bad at all. They were still naked, too -- better still. Aya hadn't said anything for a long time, but he hadn't moved, either, which spoke volumes. Probably.

 

Yoji was wandering between immoderate exultation and abject worry, resting occasionally in the valley of quiet satisfaction. He was aware that this half-way point between fulfillment and longing might be as good as it got with Aya. It would be unwise to say anything and break the spell.

 

But Yoji needed to know. Had it been good for him? Well, he'd come, so it was at least good, because it's always good to come -- even for Aya, Yoji assumed. But Yoji wanted it to have been a fucking revelation. As it were.

 

It would definitely be a bad idea to ask, though. He would bask in this half-light of relative contentment and keep his mouth shut for once.

 

“Was it OK?” Yoji asked. Damn it!

 

Aya was silent for a long time. “It was... can we just not talk about it?”

 

“Oh.” Yoji felt ill.

 

Aya sighed, rubbed his cheek against Yoji's shoulder. “Don't. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant -- Yoji, I just let someone fuck me.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I just let *you* fuck me.”

 

Yoji was just starting to wonder if *that* wasn't supposed to sound as bad as it did, either, when Aya spoke again. “It was... a big deal. To me,” he added quietly.

 

“To me, too. Which is why I want to talk about it.”

 

“OK. Just... later.” Aya sounded a bit panicky.

 

“I'm giving you 24 hours. Because `later' encompasses an uncomfortably vast timeframe, and I don't trust you.”

 

Aya just nodded, apparently realizing this was the best deal he was going to get. Yoji felt the motion against his shoulder.

 

“You do need to answer one yes-no question for me, though. Say either yes or no, whichever word comes to you first, before you start thinking about it. Did you get what you wanted out of it?”

 

Silence. “Aya, the parameters were clear. And they were simple. Yes or no?” More silence. Yoji sighed. Because if Aya didn't know what he wanted, he wouldn't necessarily know if he'd gotten it or not; and if he'd gotten what he wanted but didn't realize it -- or if it really hadn't been what he wanted at all -- Yoji would pay. He was already paying -- that last thought had given him a throbbing headache. Yoji bit his lip, forced his body to relax. He hadn't lost anything yet -- after all, Aya was still holding him, still naked. Two out of three ain't bad.

 

“Never mind,” he said, turning his head to kiss Aya. Who turned his head away. What the hell? “*Now* what?”

 

“I don't like to kiss.”

 

“The hell you don't. You liked it just fine a little while ago.”

 

Aya stood up abruptly, grabbed his clothes and was half-dressed by the time Yoji realized what was going on. He looked up into those impossibly colored eyes, searching for guidance. Searching for reassurance, too, although he knew he wasn't likely to find any. But this was starting to hurt. A lot.

 

Aya paused in his efforts to untangle his shirt -- his pants were already on -- and slowly kneeled down next to Yoji. “You know those optical illusions where you see one thing, then if you look at it long enough, you see something else? You know, it's a woman's face, it's a woman's face -- oh, it's a table?”

 

Yoji nodded slowly, stupefied.

 

“Well, a lot of things are like that." Aya ran his knuckles gently across Yoji's cheek, then stood up, shaking the shirt out and putting it on as he slipped through the curtains to the front of the truck. Moments later, the engine rumbled and they were pulling out of the lot and onto the highway.

 

**********

 

Yoji staggered back into the kitchen of the Koneko a little after 7. Physically, he was a couple of steps behind Aya; metaphysically, the distance was greater. He was confused. Befuddled, even. Worried. Irritated. Deeply, truly tired.

 

After Aya'd left him for dead for the second time in one day, Yoji had just stayed in the back of the truck, feeling sorry for himself. He'd gotten dressed and spent some time trying to unravel Aya's koan -- of course, “Aya” and “koan” were redundant. After they'd dropped off the truck, though, he hadn't had much choice about sitting next to Aya -- although he had briefly wondered if bungee cords would hold him onto the roof of the Porsche. At least then he'd have been able to smoke.

 

He'd expected an icy silence, but his baffling romantic adversary hadn't actually seemed distant or unfriendly. Yoji couldn't say how he' decided that, since Aya had not disappointed re. the silence. It hadn't actually mattered that much; Yoji was too exhausted -- physically and metaphysically -- to wonder about it any more. For the moment.

 

Ken and Omi were already up, having breakfast at the kitchen table. Yoji closed his eyes, inhaling the uniquely comforting aroma of coffee, nature's perfect food.

 

“Any information to report?” asked Omi. He was a bizarrely amiable little destroyer of life.

 

Yoji opened his mouth to say nobody had shown up, but Aya spoke first.

 

“No. I heard the targets arrive at about 3, but we missed them because we were fucking in the back of the truck. Hey, are those donuts?”

 

Omi spit his coffee across the room. Yoji had never seen an actual spit-take -- it was just as funny as it was supposed to be.

 

Ken picked up the piece of apple fritter he'd just dropped and said, “Eclairs, too. Picked them up on my way back from the gym.”

 

Aya nodded appreciatively, grabbed one and shoved most of it into his mouth. He turned to look at Omi, who was still openly gaping, then at Yoji. “What?”

 

Yoji shook his head, attempting to arrange his face into a vague smile. “Oh, nothing. Time for me to go to bed, I think.” He headed up the stairs. Snagging another donut, Aya followed. Once they'd safely negotiated the stairs, Yoji turned and grabbed Aya's arm. “Sleep with me. No talking, no kissing. Just sleep with me.”

 

Aya raised an eyebrow, stuffed the remaining half of the second donut into his mouth, and nodded.

 

Yoji tried to restrain the volume of his sigh of relief. Gallantly, he opened his bedroom door and gestured for Aya to walk in first. Aya looked as if he thought it might be an elaborate trap. Yoji didn't try to restrain the volume of his next sigh. He also let the door slam a little behind him.

 

Aya took a moment to wipe the crumbs from his chin and chest and then lay down on Yoji's bed, fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling.

 

Yoji shook his head. This relationship was like some kind of aphasiac Dada experiment. “You know, I'm willing to accept that most of your social malfunctioning is due to cluelessness rather than actual malice. But when I'm about to touch you, could you at least pretend you don't feel like we're re-enacting the dental torture scene from `Marathon Man?”

 

Aya scooted over to leave more room.

 

Yoji made a point of sighing as loudly as possible. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it toward the hamper, then slowly peeled off his jeans. He wasn't making a show of it, he was just worn-out and didn't want to fall on his ass in front of Aya while trying to extract himself from his own clothing. He tossed the pants in the general direction of the shirt and turned toward the bed.

 

Aya had been watching; was still watching. His breathing was ragged and his pupils were dilated. There was also a sizeable bulge in his pants.

 

Yoji figured he'd probably get used to Aya eventually, if they lived that long. He lay down and turned to face him. Aya's gaze, which had been moving lustfully over his abs and chest, drifted up to meet Yoji's eyes. That one feverish look hardened Yoji's dick and erased all resentful thoughts from his mind. He reached over -- slowly, deliberately -- to run his thumb across Aya's lip. Aya met it with the tip of his tongue.

 

Yoji moved closer and slowly unbuttoned Aya's shirt, shifted to get a better angle for the pants. He undid the button and zipper with one hand while firmly cupping Aya's erection with the other. Aya's hips bucked and he moaned softly. Yoji slid down to pull the fabric over Aya's hips -- which was kind of a religious experience in itself -- and down his legs. Then, slowly, so he could get out of the way in case Aya freaked out, Yoji crawled back up the bed and settled against his beloved. Aya felt strong and sleek and dangerous, practically vibrating with restrained power and hunger.

 

Aya leaned over him, resting on his elbows, which were braced on either side of Yoji's ribs. One arm slid around Yoji's waist and pressed up, forcing him to arch his back, tilting his hips against Aya's at an angle that felt very good, indeed. Aya's other hand slid up, stopping briefly to cup Yoji's shoulder and then moving to hold the back of his neck, also pushing up and forcing Yoji's head back.

 

The position made Yoji feel almost uncomfortably submissive -- he hadn't expected Aya to make him so vulnerable so quickly. He didn't fight it, though. He'd given in weeks ago, that night Aya had driven him home after the mission. Fighting it now would just add a needless layer of complication, and God knew that was the last thing they needed.

 

Still, Yoji -- who had been naked in a surprising variety of situations -- had never realized it was possible to feel this naked.

 

He looked directly into Aya's eyes. He'd been avoiding it because he was afraid of what he'd see -- or, to be specific, what he wouldn't see. It wasn't quite like that, though. Yoji couldn't interpret most of the storm he was looking into, but he had more than enough experience to recognize lust when he saw it. Lust, and a fierce, overwhelming need.

 

*Hell*, yes.

 

“Aya, I know I said no kissing, but...”

 

Aya leaned down and kissed him with abandon. It went straight to Yoji's crotch and forced small, helpless whimpers from his throat. That's it, baby, Yoji thought. I knew this was in there somewhere.

 

Yoji turned his concentration to breaking the paralysis Aya's onslaught had induced. He ran both hands down Aya's back and over his ass, cupping the firm, dense muscle. He drew his legs up over Aya's upper back, spreading himself beneath Aya's hips wantonly. Making an unmistakable invitation.

 

Aya growled and shifted up onto his knees, sliding a hand over Yoji's ass and fingering his opening, gently swirling his middle finger just inside, then adding a second, pushing them in up to the second knuckle. Aya kneaded lightly, dipping in just the tip of his thumb once Yoji had opened up a bit. The way he moved those fingers was driving Yoji mad.

 

“Do you want my cock?” Aya whispered it into Yoji's ear. “I want to...” his breath caught and he groaned loudly as Yoji writhed just the right way against him. “Lube. Do you...”

 

Yoji felt for the hand cream on the nightstand. He had tubes stashed all over the house -- floristry kept his hands chapped if he wasn't vigilant. He flipped the top open and put the tube in Aya's hand.

 

“Get on your knees in front of me,” Aya hissed urgently. It took Yoji a few moments to interpret the command -- it helped when Aya pulled his fingers out of his ass -- and then a few more to disentangle himself and comply.

 

Aya was kneeling, fisting his own erection. He pulled Yoji back against him and guided him down onto his cock. Yoji took in the head and had to stop for a few deep breaths before sliding down the length. Aya leaned back, supporting himself on one arm, and grabbed Yoji's cock, jerking him with a firm grip, like he meant business. Yoji leaned back against Aya, who seemed to have no trouble keeping his balance or holding Yoji up. Yoji was impressed. He wondered what his partner would be able to do when he wasn't wounded.

 

Then Aya started thrusting, and Yoji didn't have another coherent thought until after he came. That thought was “snooze or die.” He pulled a surprisingly pliant Aya to him and fell asleep using the redhead's shoulder as a pillow.

 

**********

NOTE: I hadn't meant to write this chapter, actually. It completely snuck up on me. I get that kind of thing a lot as I'm almost completely lacking in discipline. At any rate, that means there's still at least another chapter to go, for those of you who expressed concern. And bless your hearts, by the way -- I can't tell you how much the comments mean to me. I also very much appreciate everyone who's just reading and not commenting. (short pause) The comments are awesome, though.