Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Preoccupied ❯ Chapter 1

Aya's stomach -- that was Yoji's favorite part of his body. There was a lot to choose from, but Yoji would happily stare at those perfectly chiseled abs for hours, if given the opportunity.

 

Aya was quietly powerful -- hard, heavy muscle, but sleek and graceful. You didn't really comprehend Aya's strength until you saw him gut a man with a single stroke of his sword, or jump off a warehouse roof and land like a gymnast -- or saw him naked. Lying on the bed, shifting slightly, muscles flowing, smooth and unstoppable like ocean waves...

 

His shoulders were broad enough to be distinctly masculine; his chest and arms were sculpted but subtle; his waist was narrow, leading into... Well, beautiful, all of it. But his stomach was the thing. He had the hardest, best-defined abdominal muscles Yoji had ever seen, a six-pack to die for, as it were. And everything was highlighted by the palest, silkiest skin imaginable.

 

Yoji felt his position keenly. It was almost as if he were one of the fan girls in the shop, drooling and mooning over something they didn't understand and couldn't have in a million years.

 

But Yoji did understand. He knew what that body meant, what it was capable of. And what it needed.

 

Unfortunately, Yoji also knew the man. And there, as someone famous had said, was the rub. Aya had as much passion and as much control -- almost in equal measure -- as anyone Yoji had ever met. But he wasn't going to give it up to Yoji Kudoh.

 

The non-daydreaming part of Yoji's brain suddenly kicked in, giving him the message that Aya had been trying to contact him while he was out.

 

“...Kudoh.”

 

Yoji shook his head looked at Aya. “Huh?”

 

Aya stared up at him, obviously wondering why the hell Yoji had stopped dressing his wound in favor of staring at his stomach for God knew how long. Long enough, anyway, that Aya's irritation was now tempered with actual concern. He looked into Yoji's eyes searchingly, just like in Yoji's fantasies...

 

“Yoji, do you have a head injury?”

 

Yoji shook his head harder, since the original move had been lacking in clearing action. “No, Aya, I don't have a head injury. At least, not a new one. I was just... thinking. I'm sorry, all right? Give me a break, it's difficult for me,” he added, smiling weakly.

 

Aya continued his scrutiny. Yoji knew he should go briskly back to the official business at hand -- cleaning and bandaging the cut -- rather than indulging in this objectively embarrassing rhapsodizing about his co-worker's beauty. He just couldn't seem to get it together, though, possibly because it was taking all his self-control to keep from doing something very, very dangerous with his hands. And mouth.

 

“...the hell is going on?” Aya was asking. He'd leaned forward and put his hand on Yoji's shoulder, watching him intently, forehead creased with worry. Yoji looked back at him helplessly. God, Aya had the prettiest eyes. It wasn't just the color, that inhuman shade of violet that made Yoji think of angels... Or devils... He was never sure. It was the ever-present glitter of pain that made Aya's eyes irresistible, the edge that took him from being a very attractive man to something... impossible.

 

“Yoji, I'm going to get Ken,” Aya was saying, starting to push Yoji away.

 

“No, Aya, I'm fine,” Yoji said quickly, shaking his head emphatically this time. “I was just having a blond moment. Well, a series of them. I'm done now, though.” He tried to smile reassuringly. “It's fine. Lie back down and let me finish.”

 

“Don't pull that dumb blond shit on me, Yoji Kudoh.” Aya looked fierce. He often did. So hot... No, Yoji admonished himself. Bad dog -- sit.

 

“I'm a little distracted, OK? I'm sorry. I'm back on task, I promise. Now lie back down and let me finish this, and then we can argue some more without you bleeding all over your quilt.”

 

Aya looked suspicious but acquiesced. Yoji took a deep breath and soaked a gauze pad in cleansing solution. “This is going to hurt.” Aya snorted absently, as if disgusted that anyone might think he cared about something so inconsequential. Yoji smiled, and that song from the stupid `80s hits radio station they played in the shop went through his head -- “Every little thing she do is magic, everything she do just turns me on...” How would Aya react if he knew about Yoji's little lust-fest? Well, badly, that was a given, and Yoji wasn't interested in speculating on the gory details. But if Aya knew Yoji associated that song with him, he'd take his head off for sure.

 

Yoji put a dressing over the part of the wound that was still oozing blood and taped it up. “Done,” he announced, proud of how normal he sounded. “No sudden movements, OK?” Yoji giggled at his own joke; he might as well tell water not to be wet or something.

 

Aya actually smiled. “You're a freak.” Then the smile faded and he was looking at Yoji assessingly, possibly because Yoji was still just sitting there for no apparent reason. Finally, he patted the bed. “Get comfortable and tell me what the hell is going on with you, Yoji.”

 

Yoji did as he was told, leaning back against a couple of pillows. He had no intention of telling Aya what the hell was going on with him, of course. But he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to sit on Aya's bed with him when he was wearing nothing but an artfully applied gauze bandage and a towel wrapped around his waist, for Christ's sake. He was in no hurry to get kicked out. Although that was perhaps a wildly optimistic take on what would happen if Aya found out what Yoji had been thinking about. He suddenly remembered reading about a Viking sacrifice to Odin called the blood eagle, where they'd remove a man's lungs through his back...

 

“...Yoji, talk to me, damn it.”

 

Shit, he'd faded out on him again. Aya sounded frustrated as hell... but also worried. He's really worried about me, Yoji thought. Hope blazed within him. Fucking hope -- the last thing out of Pandora's box.

 

Yoji opened his mouth but couldn't think of a God-damned thing to say, so he just sighed. It was an eloquent sigh, if he did say so himself, but not what Aya was after.

 

“Kudoh, tell me what's wrong with you right now or I will kill you,” Aya hissed.

 

“I'm in love,” Yoji blurted. Well, fuck. He'd never been able to lie to Aya, actually. It was like one of Aya's super-hero powers.

 

Aya sucked in a breath and scowled deeply. “I see,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. “Must have some ass.”

 

This was not a friendly turn of conversation.

 

“Uh, some ass, yeah. Although that's not what I would have started out with. Abs of steel, legs for miles, unbelievably fucking gorgeous...” Aya's expression was getting colder and more closed off with each word. “...and the most beautiful, intense eyes...”

 

“That's great, Kudoh.” By which Aya obviously meant “Fuck off and die.” His expression was definitely stony now. Yoji had catalogued the minute variations of Aya's anger and could call all of them by name, the way Eskimos supposedly had hundreds of words for snow.

 

“Um, I thought you wanted to talk...”

 

“I wanted to find out what your problem was, and I did. Now get the hell out of here.” Aya stared straight ahead as if his teammate no longer existed. Well, you couldn't fault him for not being thorough -- Yoji had never felt so comprehensively dismissed in his life.

 

Thoroughly demoralized, Yoji got up and shuffled back to his room. He was accustomed to Aya's abrupt reversals and would probably spend hours of his next shift in the flower shop trying to figure out what had brought on that one. Aya was temperamental. But shit, Yoji thought, sliding into his bed, he's hot when he's mad.

 

**********

 

People fell in love with Kudoh. It was just something he brought out in people. As long as Aya had known him, though, he'd always been a Typhoid Mary -- spreading infection far and wide while appearing immune himself.

 

Aya lay in bed and fought an urge to bang his head against the wall until it stopped hurting. I need to get a grip, he thought. This is just another emotional bubble. Yoji wasn't really in love; he was just temporarily infatuated with this bimbo, and eventually the bubble would burst, and her stock would plunge, putting the relationship out of business. Yoji liked the idea of being in love, but the accounting bored him.

 

But Aya took no comfort in his analysis, despite ordering himself to do so more than once. He'd always fantasized that Yoji would eventually fall in love, for real, and that it would be with... Shit, he couldn't even say it to himself. The thought was like the key to the Necronomicon, and if he opened it, life would become hell on earth.

 

He sighed heavily. The metaphors were running wild and dragging him along helplessly. He decided that masturbating might help him fall asleep.

 

Aya tended to be somewhat intolerant of his physical needs, but Yoji had been sitting on his bed for at least 30 minutes, his hand resting low on Aya's stomach. He allowed himself to pay attention to the heat building in his belly, spreading to his balls, swelling his dick, which was now hard enough to tent the heavy towel around his waist. He reached down and impatiently tugged at the knot, getting the fabric out of the way.

 

He slid his other hand down his stomach, lightly skimming over the overly bulky gauze bandage -- Kudoh overdid everything -- then over the sharp jut of his hipbone. He lingered there for a moment, liking the austere sharpness, stroking and feeling the rush of blood into his cock. He teased himself for a few minutes, until he had to touch it. The time for teasing at an end, he gripped himself firmly, forcing a moan from his throat, a needy sound that excited him even more. His other hand, which had been caressing the soft skin on the inside of his thigh, shifted over to cup his balls, tugging gently.

 

He moaned again as his cock jumped. He gave himself a couple of rough strokes and rubbed his thumb over the head, spreading the liquid that was leaking out... It made him bite his lip; made him hold his breath for a moment before letting it out, harsh and shaky. He remembered Yoji leaning over him, hand resting just above the line of his pubic hair, looking down at him like he wanted to fuck him... Oh, God, he was so hard... His hand settled into a good, quick rhythm as he fantasized that the world was a different place and Yoji had been looking at him like that because he wanted him, instead of mooning over his latest slut.

 

Aya imagined Yoji sliding that hand down a little farther and loosening the towel, pulling it aside as he leaned down and brought his enormous body of experience to bear on sucking Aya's cock until his brain started to leak out of his ears.

 

Figuring there was no reason to prolong this pathetic display any longer, Aya gave himself an image guaranteed to finish him off quickly. He imagined Yoji looking up at him, Aya's dick in his mouth and those fascinating green eyes filled with not just lust but...

 

Oh, God. Aya's vision blanked and he couldn't catch his breath. He didn't remember making any noise, but he must have; he could still feel it in his throat. He reached for the tissues and wiped himself off, thinking about that expression on Yoji's face. The last thing he thought before he fell asleep was that he absolutely would not allow Yoji to fall in love with someone else. He'd think of something.

 

**********

 

Yoji told himself sternly to just fall asleep. Sometimes, when he was wound up like this, he had really worthwhile dreams. Last night, in fact, he'd dreamed Aya had done a backbend and then pulled his shoulders forward, between his legs, and was looking up at him from that position, giving him a blowjob -- something he'd seen in a porno, bless Belladonna's heart. He'd been wondering off and on all day, actually, if Aya was really limber enough to do that, and he'd decided that he probably was. Not that this line of thinking was likely to make him drift into slumber.

 

What the hell was going on with Aya, anyway? He'd been worried about Yoji despite his own injuries, and he'd invited Yoji to sit on his bed and talk, late at night, in the dark, wearing only a towel -- God, Yoji would die a happy man if he got to pull that towel off someday. Ken had said he'd walked in on Aya in the shower once and seen him hard, and that he was hung like a horse. Yoji suspected that Ken had just said it to mess with him, but then...

 

As if watching a movie, he imagined himself back on Aya's bed, but instead of just resting his hand on Aya's stomach for balance, he caressed that satiny skin, moving in circles, small at first but then bigger, finally causing Aya to moan and arch into Yoji's touch. Aya reached down and released the knot in the towel, brushing it aside to give Yoji access, and Yoji ran his palm down Aya's abdomen, reaching for his cock, which was now inflating, twitching, begging for attention. He took it in his hand and jerked it, a little rough, until Aya was breathing hard and making little noises deep in his throat. He'd play with Aya's balls with his other hand -- they'd be almost smooth, covered with the barest dusting of dark-red hair -- then massage the skin between his legs, and move on to gently, gently finger his asshole, causing him to gasp in surprise and pleasure.

 

“You like that, baby?” he'd ask huskily. “Do you want more?” Aya would moan, and Yoji would kneel on the bed, carefully folding Aya in half, his knees braced against the head board. Groaning, Yoji shoved his sweatpants down to grab his erection and start pumping. Aya would have no problem holding the position, perfectly exposing his ass to Yoji's attentions. Yoji would lie down and grab hold of Aya's glutes, opening him up just a little more, and lick at his entrance, first in wide, wet swathes, then with pointed jabs and nibbles. When Aya started crying out for more, he'd stab his tongue inside, just a little, then deeper as the muscle relaxed. Aya would be writhing so strenuously Yoji would have to hold him still. Finally, when Aya was begging him to fuck him, Yoji would kneel before him, stroke his rock-hard cock a couple of times, and push it in, tearing a scream from Aya's throat.

 

Oh, God damn... Yoji threw his head back, coming so hard he almost blacked out. The last thing he thought before he fell asleep was that he was going to get Aya into bed. He'd think of something.