Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Mending Wounds ❯ Kabuki-cho:My Concubine ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: you know the drill-don't own `em (but hoping to get them for my bday this year). My apologies. Wow, didn't that sound like a fight between Yuki & Shuichi? Eh, I've gone gaga for Gravi again lately, so sorry `bout that-but it still fits, huh? This chap is actually a 2parter & sorry to say, but updates are going to be few & far between for a while. I'm in the process of packing up & moving to…of all places….Japan! YAY! So, please just bear with me. Uh, this is where the R/NC-17 rating will come in. It's a nice steady build up, but well, folks, here comes the kink (& drugs, swearing, violence- you know, all the good stuff!!) -bail while you still can if it ain't your thing. From here on out, you're on your own & if you do get freaked/offended, etc.---three words for ya--- TOLD YOU SO.

(Thank you to my kind hearted reviewers! **hugs**kisses**and POCKY**) Moving on…

Aya stashed his Porsche a few blocks away from his destination. He set the alarm and glared sharply at anyone who happened to be even remotely near his beloved car. Pity the foolish mortal who was stupid enough to try to steal that car. Dodging through the masses of nightly partygoers was easy enough for him. He had only walked five or six blocks before he ducked into a barely lit alley in the wildest part of Kabuki-cho. The only source of real light down the narrow corridor came from a small red neon sign above a rusty old metal door midway down the alley. There were random, shady looking people scattered throughout the alley. Drug dealers, fetish queens, people who could find you whatever you desired…for a price. He moved swiftly past the little bondage princess who was practically drooling at the sight of him and pawing at his trench coat. She hissed at Aya as he batted her hand away.

Aya stopped his long, determined strides and came to rest under the neon sign. Pale skin immediately became luminescent, taking on a demonic glow as his refined features were bathed in the harsh neon light. Almost imperceptibly, lilac eyes stole a glance at the electrified sign above his head. Eternal Dragon. He looked around quickly to make sure that he wasn't followed. A force of habit as an assassin, he supposed. But, who would follow him? Ken was passed out in bed after a long day coaching the neighborhood kids. Youji had taken leave to head out to the bars hours ago. And Omi, well, Aya hadn't seen Omi since their second horrible encounter earlier that evening. That thought brought him back to the present, which is why he was there in the first place. Aya put his fist to the rusty old door and knocked twice. He waited patiently until he heard the familiar muffled buzz and the door unlocking automatically. Sucking in a quiet deep breath, he pushed the heavy door forward and entered. The door promptly locked behind him.

The interior of the building was in sharp contrast with its outdoor surroundings. Aya stood in a lavish, clean entryway. The floors were made of highly polished wood. Traditional Japanese koto and shamisen music floated through the air. Exquisitely carved shoji lamps sat atop equally exquisite mahogany tables. Next to them rested various ikebana arrangements. Inspirational and inviting kanji scrolls hung from the walls. Aya bent down low and set to removing his knee high, buckled leather boots. His head shot up when he heard a quiet rustling in front of him.

Before him stood a slightly aged woman, she was in her late fifties perhaps. Jet black hair, with a few minute streaks of grey, was perched atop her head in a neatly arranged bun. White tabi socks poked out from under the hem of the black kimono she wore. The flowing black silk was held securely around her petite form by a silver and red obi. She bowed low before the now bootless redhead.

"Aya-san. Welcome. It is good to see you again this evening."

Aya nodded in acknowledgement, but remained silent.

The petite woman rose to her full height and extended a welcoming hand to the silent man. Aya's emotionless mask remained in place, lavender eyes regarding her coolly. Chocolate eyes met his gaze, equally as cool, but a calculating, disarming smile was spreading across the woman's face. Finally, Aya accepted her hand and took the step up into the hallway. She gave his pale hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's been so long, Aya-san. I was beginning to think you had died. Or worse…didn't like us anymore," she said coyly, still holding his hand as she guided him through the various rice paper lined hallways.

"Yes. It has, Mama-san."

"Now, now." A playful backhand landed in the middle of his chest. "It's Keiko. You know that by now."

"Hn." He nodded his head slightly.

"So, Aya-san. I'm assuming you'll want Yumi again tonight." It was a statement, not a question.

Another small grunt followed by a whispered "yes" was the reply.

"Ah, Aya-san. Quite the conversationalist, as always, I see."

Keiko stopped in front of a shoji door and gracefully knelt before it.

"This is your room," she said as she slid the screen open.

Just as Aya crossed the threshold into the room, he felt a tug on his pants leg. He looked down to see Keiko still kneeling on the floor, the leather of his pants fisted in a firm, small handed grip.

Keiko looked at the floor. "Aya-san, I trust your judgment and your sense of restraint. Just remember…not the face," after a slight pause, "never the face."

She turned her face up to him, those same cool chocolate eyes silently appraising him, that same calculating, all-too-knowing grin one more in place. He nodded his head. With that said, she bowed low again and slid the screen shut, leaving Aya alone in his room.

The room itself was simple, but elegant. Expertly woven tatami mats covered the floor. A low, small, lacquered black table large enough to seat four people sat in the middle of the room. Luxurious pillows of varying shades and textures were scattered about the floor. In the far left corner of the room was a four foot by two foot dark oak chest, and a hook, presumably for jackets, fastened into the wall just to the left of the chest.

A few short moments later, there was a tap at the door. The shoji parted with a brisk swishing sound and a young girl tidily wrapped in a powder blue kimono and no older than fifteen entered Aya's private room. In her delicate hands, she balanced a tray with a carafe of sake and two cups. She swiftly padded across the tatami mats on tabi-clad feet and wordlessly placed the tray on the table in front of Aya. She bowed once and made her way from the room. Aya remained motionless, only tracking the girl with his violet eyes as she exited through the sliding door. He was left with his most beloved companion, silence, until another rap at the shoji broke him from his silent musings. This is what he had been waiting for. For a while at least, the stoic redhead could forget about Omi, could forget about Weiss and all its gory entrapments. For a short while he could completely abandon himself. His temporary salvation stood poised behind that door. Aya unconsciously hitched in his breath.

Painstakingly slowly, the shoji slid open.

A vision decked in green and white stood before him. The breathing vision entered the room and promptly slid the door closed.

"Yumi," Aya breathed.

Yumi took small, meek steps towards Aya, head bowed and stopped about seven or eight feet from him. Black hair was swept up gracefully in the traditional "split-peach" style with various kanzashi adorning it which jingled as Yumi walked. A fiercely bright green kimono clung to Yumi's lithe frame, held there only by a loosely bound, stark white obi with purple cranes stitched into it. Black kohl lined eyes and white powder covered Yumi's face to give the appearance of being a young maiko. Cherry red lips trembling in anticipation completed the look. Yumi was a sight, but this was no maiko. This certainly was no geisha. The creature standing humbly before the stoic Weiss leader was no highly trained, respectable person of the arts. This was a mockery, a façade, a farce. Yumi's green kimono hung indecently of the shoulders and the obi barely kept it closed. This was a common prostitute dressed and painted to present finery, to create an illusion. Let the customer think he's charming a geisha. Let him pretend that he's worthy of the attention he receives. Let him think he's normal. Aya was far from normal, and it was an illusion which Aya desperately longed for, needed.

"Aya-sama," Yumi whispered in a soft, seductive tone.

Promptly, Yumi sank to the floor and began crawling towards Aya, slinking across the floor with almost feline grace. The flask of sake was still warm and Yumi immediately lifted it to pour a cup of sake for the weary Weiss assassin. Once poured, Yumi lifted the cup to Aya's lips. He took hold of Yumi's wrist and helped tip back the cup. Warm and oh so welcome, the sake flowed down his dry throat. They repeated the process four more times. Yumi had shifted around and was now seated directly next to Aya, practically in his lap, which of course, is exactly what he had come to the Eternal Dragon for. On the fifth cup of sake, Yumi tipped the small round dish to his waiting lips again and the warm liquid seeped into his mouth. Aya didn't swallow. Instead he gripped Yumi's chin and pressed their mouths together. Without hesitation, Yumi's mouth opened under the pressure from Aya's forceful, demanding lips. The ice prince let the sake drain from his mouth into Yumi's as they kissed deeply on the tatami floor. Aya broke the kiss and lapped at the trail of sake that had overflowed from Yumi's mouth.

Yumi had shifted again and was now fully seated in Aya's lap, straddling him. With great hunger and force, Aya pressed their mouths together again. They fed hungrily off each other while Aya tugged impatiently at the obi that was binding Yumi into that cumbersome kimono. One last swift tug had it off and scattered across the floor. Aya was not feeling up to being delicate or engaging in gracious foreplay and had the kimono stripped off in great haste. Slender hands reached out with deft precision, flying over Aya's body as Yumi divested him of his clothing. Yumi lay sprawled sensuously in front of Aya, waiting for him to make his move.