Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Lonely ❯ Lonely ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz and all of its characters do not belong to me, they are the property of Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss. No profit is made from this story.

Author's Note: This contains some content of the yaoi lime variety. Do not read if this will offend you, or if you are not old enough to do so in the area where you live.


Omi flopped down on his bed, listening to the chatter through the window of the girls sitting outside in the courtyard of his apartment building. Since Weiss had ended after the death of Takatori and the four of them had gone their own ways, he'd been doing this more and more. He was exhausted, his sleep frequently interrupted with the faces of his brothers, his father and his uncle, his half-sister Ouka. When he'd been with Weiss, living above the shop with the others, it had been easy to get past these nightmares. If they happened early enough, Ken was usually awake to play a video game or two with while he waited to go back to bed. If it was a little later than that, he could always pretend he needed help with his homework and spend some time in the kitchen with Aya. If it was after two he usually didn't have too long to wait for Yohji to make it home from the clubs. Even when he was drunk, Yohji was able to read something in his expression that told him something was wrong.

He wished he had Yohji to talk to now. He'd email the others, of course, sometimes individual emails, more often emails to all of them at once, hoping they would reply to all and get talking as a group again. Aya's replies were short, generally just a quick reply to Omi only stating he was fine. That was it, no questions about Omi's new life, no wondering about the others, no thoughts, and no information on his daily life. He made it clear that he would answer Omi to be polite, but he wouldn't if he thought it would make Omi stop writing. Ken's were more enthusiastic, full of the joy he obviously found in his new job. Omi was happy for him; happy he was working as an assistant coach for the soccer program at an elementary school. Ken had always been great with kids, and being able to teach them the game he loved was something that seemed to be helping him to heal the scars of his past. Yohji wrote back sporadically, but when he did his emails were full of his personality, teasing him as he always had about things.

Omi sat up and pulled the laptop from the desk next to his bed into his lap and turned it on. He pulled up Yohji's last email and read it for what had to be the tenth time that week. Yohji said he was too busy to write more often, what with keeping the ladies happy and all. He wanted to know when Omi was going to start regaling him with stories of his own escapades into the fabulous world of dating, or if he was still looking at websites he was too young for. Omi chuckled slightly, a small, sad sound. He had been asked to go to a festival the next week by a girl in his class, but he'd politely said no. Since Ouka died, there had only been one person who had caught his attention, and that person had no clue.

The lilting laugh of one of the girls outside drifted through the window again. Omi was reminded of the days in the flower shop, with the girls crowding around, making it hard to get any work done between this one wanting to know what flower would best match her eyes, or her shirt, or her personality and another wanting them to make something special just so she can hover while they do it and have an excuse to flirt with Yohji at the cash register. He hadn't been fond of all the fawning and preening and how close they crowded around him, but he missed those days. He missed the time after the shop was closed, when the four of them would actually sit down to dinner together sometimes. He even missed the missions, just because it forced the four of them together. He missed after missions, when they all met briefly in the mission room in the basement and tended injuries and discussed the mission so Omi could write the report to Kritiker.

He had no one now. He had friends from school, of course, and most nights he had study groups or just got together with friends at a local cafe to goof off, but they didn't understand what was going on behind the carefree exterior he presented. They had no idea that he woke from nightmares almost every night now, that the nightmares weren't getting better with time, only worse as he heard every day some story on the news that he could do nothing about, simply because he wasn't Weiss anymore. There was no Weiss, the evil in the world that he had fought so hard against was creeping out of the shadows and taking over and he had no one to talk to about it. He had tried bringing it up once to Aya, thinking that of all of them, he'd take him seriously. His only reply had been a terse 'it is no longer our problem. Move on.'

Omi pushed the laptop away and flopped back down on the bed, his eyes falling on a picture sitting in a cracked frame on the desk next to the bed. Ouka had snapped it one day in the shop. Omi was in the foreground, holding a potted plant with a look of surprise on his face, but beyond him he could see Ken looking flustered as two girls tried to catch his attention at the same time. Aya was standing by himself surveying the entire shop and from his expression not finding it to his liking. Yohji was oblivious to the chaos, his hand cupped around the cheek of a young blonde woman. The angle meant that Omi couldn't see the girl's face, but he could see Yohji's and his expression caused a familiar ache in his chest and an answering ache further down his anatomy. He shifted slightly, debating briefly before opening his pants and slipping into his favorite fantasy.

Omi was looking up at Yohji, the focus of all of Yohji's attention for once. Yohji brought up his hand and laid it softly against Omi's cheek, smooth skin stroking his softly and Omi saw that wondrous expression as Yohji lowered his head and captured Omi's lips. The kiss was soft and sweet at first, nothing more than a gentle whisper of soft lips and a whiff of tobacco- and mint-scented breath. Omi lifted himself just slightly on his toes, pressing more firmly against Yohji's mouth and felt an arm circle his waist, pulling him gently closer, taking most of the burden of Omi's weight as it pressed their bodies together. Omi let loose a small gasp, opening his lips just a small amount and Yohji answered by drifting his tongue lightly over Omi's bottom lip, tasting him, urging him gently to open further for him.

Omi responded to the caress, his breath speeding up in his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest, the sound becoming all he could hear as he felt the thrill of the first tentative meeting of Yohji's tongue to his. He grasped at Yohji's shirt as a shiver raced down his spine at the contact, then answered by searching timidly for Yohji's tongue with his own, yearning for more of that thrill, that exciting jolt that brought him to full attention. Yohji's hand drifted from his cheek slowly down the side of his neck, the touch of his fingers light, almost tickling, but just strong enough to avoid laughter and elicit a soft moan from Omi's throat. Those gentle fingers drifted further, down to his shoulder, then trailing down his shoulder blade and around to his side, following down his ribs and the hollow between ribs and hipbones, settling finally against Omi's hip and exerting a gentle pressure.

Omi responded again to Yohji's urging, pressing his hips against Yohji's feeling a blush start up his cheeks as his erection pressed against Yohji, knowing there was no way that he wouldn't feel it, nearly breaking the kiss when he felt an answering hardness and another jolt of that thrill went through him. He moaned again, opening himself further, his hands drifting up around Yohji's neck and entwining in the hair at the back of Yohji's head, pulling them ever so slightly closer together. He became more sure of himself, more sure that Yohji wanted him too, that there would be no coming to their senses, no stopping what was inevitable at this point. He became surer of himself, allowing his tongue to seek Yohji's, darting teasingly into the other's mouth, tasting his cigarettes and the mint he'd been sucking on and something else, something like rich dark chocolate and strong coffee that just seemed to fit Yohji so perfectly.

Yohji's hand gripped Omi's hip a little more firmly, and Omi felt himself urged to press his hips forward, the little bit of friction making him moan, it felt so good. Yohji's hands became more insistent, and his hips mimicked Omi's pressing forward, his hand guiding Omi into the proper rhythm as they continued to grind against each other, their mouths still joined, tongues teasing and playing and lips caressing each other's as their excitement grew. Omi could feel something building inside him and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Yohji's mouth broke from his and he let loose a small whimper of protest, but Yohji just moved his head to allow his lips and tongue to play along the curve of Omi's jaw and back to the sensitive spot behind his ear, gently sucking there and causing another jolt of tingling sensation that traveled straight down Omi's spine to his aching cock. He moaned again, louder, and pressed his hips more firmly against Yohji, his motions becoming near frantic as Yohji's lips continued their journey down the side of his neck to the curve where neck and shoulder met. Omi clutched at Yohji, his breath coming in harsh little gasps and his hips moving faster still. Yohji sucked on the spot for a moment, and Omi moaned, whispering a warning to the older man, who replied by biting down into the flesh just hard enough to make Omi gasp and shudder as his orgasm washed over him.

Omi let his eyes drift open, disappointed as always when all he saw above him was the ceiling of his room and not Yohji's smiling face. He sighed, hearing again the giggling girls outside and hoped he hadn't been loud enough for them to hear. He always lost himself in that fantasy, but usually kept it to the shower where the water would cover any sounds he made. He looked over at the clock on the wall. He had just enough time to shower before he had to leave to meet his friends for their study group. As he walked to the shower, he thought again how nice it had once been to not be so lonely.