Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Plant Pots and Pleasure ❯ One-Shot

Aya x Omi - “Plant Pots and Pleasure”

 

Title: Plant Pots and Pleasure

Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Rating: NC-17
Author: kajamiku
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz doesn't belong to me... but the plant pot does XD

Summary/Notes: The pairing is Aya x Omi, and it's pure undiluted smut ^^ Completely yaoi of course.

Beware the PWP!

 

**

 

“Aya-kun?” The bedroom was empty. No sign of the crimson haired assassin and, from the look of things, no clue as to where he might be either. Omi sighed, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe; he was sure he'd heard Aya come home a few minutes before… He had been busy beta checking a new program, and hadn't wanted to leave it until he'd finished the line he was up to. By the time he got up to the flower shop, the door had been locked again.

 

Since Ken and Yohji were out for the day, he knew it hadn't been them, but other than his bedroom, Omi couldn't think where the older Weiss member might go after just getting back. The blonde assassin shook his head slightly, trying to make himself think; where…?

 

Heading back down the stairs, Bombay poked his head around the corner and scanned the kitchen. “Aya-kun!” The red head glanced up over his glass, a frown adorning his features. The glass was lowered as he surveyed the other assassin; he didn't speak for a few moments, and Omi blinked at him curiously.

 

“Hn.” Aya was always so talkative.

 

Omi watched the impassive man take another sip, and then gained an expression of surprise as the rest of the liquid was downed in one clumsy swig. After disposing of the glass, Aya disappeared through the other door into the adjoining living room, without saying another word. Feeling a little confused, Omi wordlessly followed, lingering in the doorway to watch as Aya sank onto the chair in a profoundly cat-like way, stretching his muscles and flexing one of his arms.

 

After being a little distracted by the way Aya's shirt clung to his body, in all the right places, the blonde teen leapt over the back of the sofa next to the chair, landing with his legs crossed on the cushion. “Aya-kun? …Are you okay?” He asked cautiously, after examining the other man for a moment.

 

When the violet eyes actually fixed upon Omi's, the young assassin was startled by the look in them; usually so hard and cold, they now seemed… different. Omi couldn't quite discern the look they held; it was familiar, but somehow the blonde knew he had never seen such an expression on the other man's face before. Not in public at least.

 

Aya wasn't smiling, but then he rarely did. His brow was contracted slightly, and his posture seemed, as Omi watched, to be getting tenser. “Omi.” Bombay blinked, tearing his eyes from the hand that was clutching the arm of the chair until the knuckles were straining and white, to meet those captivating violet orbs again.

 

For a moment, Omi thought Aya was going to hit him; he had the same intensity in his gaze now that he did when he was on a mission. It was making the blonde nervous.

 

…was that the reason he was shifting in his seat? Or did his nether regions sense something his brain didn't? Fortunately, Omi had very little time to really think about it.

 

Omi's eyes widened somewhat; what on earth had the usually stoic Abyssinian been drinking? Then again, he wasn't really complaining when he found himself inexplicably straddling Aya's thighs. Nor did he make any sort of struggle when a pale hand captured his head and brought their mouths clashing together. In fact, the sound that escaped him as Aya's lips captured his own was very appreciative.

 

Aya's teeth were soon on the blonde's lower lip, drawing it down so he could probe his tongue inside with ease, and Omi moaned softly into the elder Weiss' mouth as he drew Bombay's tongue out with his own.

 

To be honest, Omi had no idea where this situation, the red head's behaviour, and the rather suspicious `Surprise' that was pressing against his thigh had come from; but at this precise moment, he couldn't care less.

 

Aya tasted… spicy, hot; so much so that it felt like kissing him would burn your tongue. His mouth tasted somehow like honey at the same time, a mixture of hot and cold that left Omi breathless. The blonde thought he could detect a very small amount of alcohol there too, which seemed ridiculous; Aya never drank after all. But, naturally, these thoughts were dashed as soon as they were formed; no one in existence could concentrate while being kissed like that.

 

Omi's arms came up and around Aya's shoulders, one hand's fingers splaying on the red head's back, feeling the way the shoulder blades moved under them when the other man pulled Bombay closer to him.

 

Their tongues danced, sliding against each other, making the flesh tingle and burn, and eliciting small sounds of appreciation and enjoyment from both assassins. The kiss deepened, Abyssinian's nimble hands drawing them as close as physically possible. One of those hands had been roaming over Omi's back, but it suddenly dipped, sliding beneath the cloth of the blonde's shorts and cupping one cheek. Bombay jumped slightly at the sudden movement, soon groaning in surprise and approval, eagerly rubbing the proof of his enjoyment against Aya's.

 

Acknowledging Omi's enthusiasm with another squeeze, Abyssinian pulled away; his mouth barely left skin for a second before he was placing open-mouthed kisses from Bombay's mouth, down his chin, across his jaw line and down to his neck.

 

He pressed his tongue to the sweet tasting skin, raking his teeth over the flesh and enjoying the submissive way Omi's head fell back to give him better access. As Aya ravaged his throat and available shoulder skin, Omi's hands were clawing at the man's shoulders and clothing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

 

Sliding his free hand under the front of Bombay's shirt, he traced his fingers over the contours of the younger assassin's body, feeling the muscles jump beneath his fingers, and smirking against flesh at the breathless gasp the blonde made when Aya's pale fingers swept over his nipples. Bringing his mouth back up to Omi's, Abyssinian slowly tormented the nubs to hardness, dipping his tongue around the younger man's mouth when the blonde's hands moved beneath his own shirt.

 

Aya unceremoniously tore the blonde's shirt from his body, whipping it over his head quickly, so as to be able to ravish Omi's mouth again. The teen's goggles hit the floor with his shirt, having been caught on the thin fabric as it was removed, and the blonde soon started on Aya's black tee shirt. He was careful not to let it catch on his teammate's single earring, asserting vaguely in that moment that that particular piece of jewellery probably wouldn't look good on anyone except the red head.

 

Shirts removed and upper bodies bared; both assassins allowed themselves a little time to examine the newly revealed skin on each other's torsos, before Omi moved to return a little of the attention he had previously received.

 

The blonde leaned down, kissing one of Aya's nipples before covering it with his mouth and suckling, running circles around the hard little nub with a soft wet tongue. He heard Abyssinian give a deep, rumbling purr of appreciation deep in his throat and, feeling sufficiently encouraged, endeavoured to do the same to the other.

 

Pulling Omi away from his chest, Aya presented the boy with a smooth plane of flesh at his throat, his lips curving when Omi immediately diverted his attention to the area. After giving the skin there a satisfactory blush, the blonde assassin moved up to kiss Aya's mouth, making a sound of surprise when the red head, instead, lifted him slightly and began to remove his trousers and underwear. Naturally this led to the abandonment of the clothing covering Aya's lower half as well, and the pants were left on the floor to keep Omi's underwear company.

 

Two pairs of hands began to roam, sliding over smooth skin and exploring every inch of it. Without warning, Aya's hands were on Omi's hips; he lifted the younger Weiss member up so that he didn't strain his neck, dipping his head to nuzzle the noticeable hardness before him. Feeling unsteady in his current position, Bombay's hands firmly gripped the other assassin's shoulders.

 

After a few agonising moments, Aya parted his lips, allowing his mouth to ghost over the already burning flesh before him. Omi groaned quietly, one hand finding its way into the thick crimson locks of his partner, as his body shuddered.

 

Hands still holding the blonde's hips, Abyssinian slowly took Omi into his mouth, feeling the teen shiver and jerk a little, though he was unable to move much due to the red head's grip. Aya slid his tongue along the underside of the shaft, exerting the slightest of pressures, and listening to the rather desperate and progressively louder sounds of Omi's pleasure, feeling himself growing all the harder for it.

 

Once satisfied with his work, the older assassin lowered the blonde back onto his lap, noticing the way he was shivering and keening, pressing into his touch.

 

The red head reached to help himself, but found that Omi was quicker and had his lips around his straining erection before he could even lift his arm. Omi coated Aya's erection liberally with saliva, taking care to tease the man a little while he was at it. There was no way either of them would be able to go upstairs for proper lubrication after all.

 

Abyssinian stifled a loud groan unsuccessfully; watching the blonde head bobbing in his lap was torture for his already thoroughly tormented body, especially when Omi pulled back. The younger man spread the pre-cum, mixed with his own saliva, over Aya's throbbing want, keeping eye contact with the other assassin as he did so. This accomplished, Omi sat up and slid his hands onto the other man's shoulders, smiling when the other man stole a firm and bruising kiss.

 

Bombay needed very little guidance; lifting his body as Aya shifted himself, the pale man's hands having returned to his hips again, he moved easily into position. When Abyssinian brought the blonde assassin down onto himself, he paused for a few moments, waiting for the younger man to adjust. Omi had hissed slightly, but made no other protest; his expression one of open discomfort.

 

It didn't take much for Omi to become relaxed; after only a minute or so, he gently rocked back and forth, delighting in the way Aya groaned aloud at the unexpected movement. The crimson haired assassin waited almost patiently while Omi moved and shifted experimentally, finally finding the movement and rhythm he needed.

 

The pace started, like most things, slow. Aya continued his torture of the already ravaged skin at Omi's throat, while the blonde set the initial movements. As the speed began to increase however, both assassins moved to kiss again, drawing energy from each other's mouths like a drug, so that the movements of their bodies became increasingly faster and more aggressive.

 

Soon the two assassin's bodies were clashing together with a fury; their hands groping the available naked flesh with vigour, the air around them heating and their open-mouthed kisses becoming progressively more insistent.

 

The heat and friction of sweat-slicked skin, and the hands that traced every contour, every curve, every hot inch of the other. Aya's hips thrust almost violently upwards, and would have unseated the blonde, had he not been working on his own furious pace; his nails digging into Abyssinian's shoulders and back.

 

The chair was creaking, whining its discontent at the couple's aggressive enthusiasm as it was forced into rocking with the movements of its occupants. The noise grew louder, echoing in the small living room and heating the space, changing it to a hellish atmosphere; a domain of pleasures and pains. But the place was blurred, ignored and as good as didn't exist to the lovers whose only concentration was on each other.

 

Omi groaned, grinding down and making a sound of enjoyment when a hand that wasn't his own gripped his length. He paused in his rhythm for a blind second, overwhelmed with the feeling of Aya's grip, and the steady pumping it had begun. He was soon reminded, when the red head's hips were shunted up into his own, and he gave a wild howl to the obscured skies, his head thrown back.

 

Bombay could feel tears of pleasure at the corners of his eyes, could feel the delightful strain of his body as it followed and continued his partner's increasingly rapid and vicious pace. He made sounds of encouragement in the back of his throat, keens and moans, which were occasionally brought to loud and voracious cries.

 

Abyssinian, though quieter, participated fully; his head thrown back one minute, then pressed to Omi's heaving chest, his lips and teeth grazing the heated skin. One hand gripping Bombay's hip tightly, occasionally altering the pace or angle of the younger assassin's movements, the other moving with Omi, pumping and caressing the flesh it held, thumb pressed to the tip.

 

The blonde's back arched, his head thrown dizzyingly backwards as he fully appreciated the generous caress, giving a long, drawn out moan. The sound, the sight and the painfully gorgeous tightening of Omi's body made the red head produce a similar noise, mixed in with the undeniable sound of his lover's name.

 

The rhythm began again. Faster this time; the feeling of being near completion crowding both of them, sending shivers through their bodies, and forcing them together into another searing kiss. They marvelled at the sensation, the roughness, of their tongues rubbing against one another; every sense heightened, every inch of skin more sensitive.

 

Aya's eyes flickered open, resting with his lids hooded as he groaned at the plain sight of his partner; lips parted and swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes carelessly shut, head tilted back… and the teen only made himself more stunning when he lightly bit his lip, his damp hair shifting over his forehead, which was lightly coated with sweat.

 

He himself was looking quite different than he usually did; his normally alabaster skin rose, his amethyst eyes smouldering, darkened with lust and passion.

 

The already urgent pace increased. Both parties panting, the air filled with heat and occasional groans and cries. Sapphire and amethyst eyes locked; an unbreakable and unmistakably intense gaze that could melt iron.

 

The sounds of pleasure and effort became even more pronounced, reaching the ceiling and carrying out to every corner of the building.

 

They moved together, felt the heat and bore the strain together; they moaned each other's names, and came together with a fiery kiss that muffled each other's screams.

 

Completion.

 

A thin trail of sweat slid across Omi's chest, enticing his redheaded lover to dip down and catch it on his tongue. It was warm, and tasted of spice, salt and, inevitably, Omi himself. The blonde nuzzled Aya's forehead, his nose and then, finally, shared a softer, less urgent kiss as they basked in the after-glow.

 

Their lingering moments of cloud-like euphoria were mercilessly torn apart however, by a largely evident sound at the other side of the room. Omi's mouth immediately removed itself from Aya's, as he jerked back his head and, knowing what had happened, blushed to the roots of his hair.

 

Both men turned to face the doorway; Aya's expression little more than irritated, and Omi's nothing short of horrified, as they saw both of their teammates standing just inside the room, the plant pot Ken had been carrying now a pile of soil and broken pottery staining the carpet.

 

Owari.