Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ RED GEISHA SERIES: Ohayo ❯ RED GEISHA SERIES: Ohayo ( One-Shot )

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note: I don't know how this story came about, I was depressed and bored. I hope you enjoy it and make some sense of it, I know I didn't. I was half sober. Enjoy minna-san!

Disclamer: Project Weiss not mine. Belongs to Koyasu Takehito. Don't sue, I'm broke.

Ratings: R bordering on NC-17

Parings: Yohji/Aya

 

RED GEISHA SERIES: Ohayo.

 

Of all the goddamned nights Kritiker had to go and give a blasted mission on fucking New Year's Eve, and in his mind that had been not only preposterous but absolutely sacrilegious to his sex life. The Bengal Klan was supposed to be closed and forgotten into the archives of the killing machine that was Kritiker, yet due to misinformed agents and horrendously advanced security systems, Weiss was still doing surveillance and gathering information about the Bengal, a man in charge of one of the deadliest gangs in Tokyo. It was whispered in the underground circles that it wasn't only a gang, but a satanic cult involved in blood orgies too horrifying to speak of. Not that self-proclaimed man whore Yohji Kudoh cared, he just wanted to do his part of the mission, which was to infiltrate the Bengal's territory and gain the data needed to kill the bastard. He had been planning a night out at good club and he pictured himself a willing participant in a very steamy orgy in one of the private rooms of the establishment, but that and even his goal to drink until he passed out was terminated. Thanks to Persia and his fucking dark beasts he was now out in the cold following a seemingly promising lead that had only taken him into an underground tunnel and he had no idea where it led to.

 

He was fucked, Aya had told him where to find the supposedly reliable contact and the conceited stranger had given him a bizarre smile and had pointed him in the direction of the tunnel, claiming it led into the Bengal's world and into everything Yohji wanted and saying that whatever happened would not be his fault but that he couldn't pass up and opportunity to let Yohji's talents go to waste. Stupid asshole.

Whatever else mumbo jumbo he spewed, the tall blonde hadn't paid mind to, he just wanted the mission over with, yet Yohji had to admit that had it been under different circumstances he would have gladly said thank you to the handsome but eccentric man but as pissed as he was he had just snatched the piece of paper and was able to enter the damned tunnel through the outskirts of the city. He had been scared to leave his precious Seven out in the open, so he'd been forced to place it in a crowed parking lot filled with partiers hell bent on having a good time and he'd had to walk all the way to the tunnel. Which now put him in the current predicament of bad direction judgments because he was fucking lost. He fished out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his too-tight jeans and lit up. He might as well enjoy his misery. Someone suddenly tapped him on the shoulder, with a violent snarl he turned to meet the newcomer and his last thoughts before going fully unconscious were that his fearless leader was going to hear his bitching when he got home.

 

 

The hooded figure stood in the centre of the large chamber; the colossal structure was laden with expensive silks and divided into private small areas secluded by heavily draped pillars and billowing silk curtains that hung from the highly arched ceiling. Large colorful cushions lay strewn across the marble floor, and on them various figures in different states of undress proceeded to seek the highest hedonistic pleasure out of the bizarre ministrations from their equally willing partners. It was a harem, and they were all his children, not only of the flesh, but in the blood. Bengal's red eyes, stared from a deep set ancient face, pale to the point of death and sharp chiseled features were crafted unto a slightly unattractive male.

“Bring him in,” he said to the young castrato by his side, waving a long fingered hand towards the large doors near the marble fountains. Five guardsmen dressed in wide pants with scimitars strapped at the waist entered, carrying a naked male on a stone slate softened by red velvet cloths. Bengal smiled, motioning for them to come closer, he scrutinized the unconscious figure on the slate, golden skin, toned form, light hair and sleek figure.

“He's perfect,” the old man whispered, “take him to the Red Geisha's chambers, and tell him it's a gift from me, for infiltrating Kritiker so skillfully.”

“Anything else Sire?” asked the tallest of the guards.

“Yes, make it clear to the Red Geisha that his gift must become one of us. It will aid in our war against Kritiker. It will make Esset happy to know that we have two members from the deadliest team on our side,” Bengal replied.

The men bowed respectfully, and Bengal nodded his consent as they took their leave, a few of the members around them, looked up from their activities to see what was taking place, but most simply ignored it, after all there were better things to do. The old man grinned to himself. The Red Geisha had entered their ranks years ago, filled with darkness and a thirst for revenge, Bengal himself had converted the youth, making him one of the highest echelons of power within his secret society. The name Red Geisha brought either shivers of pleasure or terror to those that heard it. His protégé was not only a skilled assassin but he had been the only one to penetrate Kritiker without being discovered. All of Bengal's previous agents had tried but failed, thankfully, their true nature had never been truly revealed, thus keeping a secret held by the Klan for centuries. Now it was time to bring a new order, and the destructive rebellion of Weiss would be the killing blow for Kritiker.

Bengal called out to the slave boy, “Inform the guards that they are to transport the Red Geisha with his new toy back to their Kritiker home as soon as the ritual is done. Remind them not too use too much of the new drug, we'll have another Berserker in our hands if they do.”

The boy nodded and scurried to do his master's bidding.

 

 

The sun rose leisurely, shyly peeking out of the darkness, painting the once blackened sky with pinkish watercolors and light streaks of gold, choosing to leave its hiding place to bathe the thrumming city of Tokyo in its gentle radiance. It slithered over the half empty streets, past numerous crowds and certain individuals in drunken stupors and post-lustful dazes. The rays entered a quiet bedroom dominated by an enormous bed, where two men lay in a peaceful slumber and naked in their full glory, amidst an endless tangle of long limbs.

 

Yohji Kudoh came awake slowly, his lids trembling briefly as the pupils moved inside the darkness of his closed eyes. His hands twitched and with a regretful sigh he opened his eyes, welcoming his bustling life at six in the morning, way too early in his own agenda, he wondered why he was even awake at this ungodly hour. Silky strands brushed his nose and he felt a noticeable weight shift atop him, he frowned, contracting the lax muscles in his face. Did he do anything last night? What had happened?

 

He came up with memories flashing in unrecognizable blurs, bottles of golden whiskey, gentle laughter, silk, wanton moans and red, so much red. Yohji, brought a hand to his forehead, a headache was beginning to pound within the confines of his heated skull. He felt the hard body above him move again and with a frustrated groan he looked down at himself and found hair the color of blazing fire fanned out in all directions, long tresses caressed his chest and fell around his arms in endless curtains fiery silk. Yohji really didn't want to see the face, he really didn't. His head felt faint and that headache was becoming almost unbearable, his throat was dry with the mix of fear and anticipation that ran through his body like liquid ice. He followed the path of one strand of hair carefully, his gaze riveting to a pale face from which cold eyes watched him with an open flatness that stunned Yohji. Amongst the blaze of reddish tresses, that beautiful face stared at him, the high cheekbones seemed to have been carved, the almond shaped eyes were an unusual shade of violet, and the features were erotically androgynous and startlingly delicate. He knew this man, he was completely sure of it, yet the familiarity of the face didn't serve any purpose since he couldn't remember anything about it. Yohji, felt dizzy, drugged in a universe that wasn't his and he felt like he was drowning slowly.

He scrutinized the arresting face again, cringing away from the eyes that stared passively at him and the generous full mouth that twisted mockingly at his visible confusion. The person seemed eerily familiar, he was positive that there was a name in the back of his mind but at the same time, this man was an unwanted stranger also. A stranger that should have no business in his bed Yohji felt the claws of horrifying panic sink into him as he continued to stare intently trying to recognize or recall something, anything about what had taken place.

Nothing.

 

His brain felt as if it had been turned to mush and it only hurt even more as he strained under the after effects of heavy drinking and God knows what else he had in is system added to his current mental concentration. Hell, he couldn't place that face, he couldn't even remember the person who was lying on him, pointy chin resting on his chest, torsos and groins pressing together.

Naked. In bed. With a man. Alone. Fuck.

Shit!

He was in bed with another man! He was naked! What the hell had he done?

Yohji was sure he wasn't gay, he just wasn't. He'd once had a few urges but that had been it, he hadn't even had the courage or need to act upon them. There was no fucking way that ladies man Yohji Kudoh could be naked in bed with another man, it just wasn't normal, never mind that said man was drop dead gorgeous. That was just wrong in Yohji's book.

 

“Relax,” a deep voice purred, the pale man's voice was molten chocolate, “the drug they gave you gives you a few hours of amnesia, you know who you are and a bit of your own history, you know that I'm familiar to you but you still can't place my face within your memories. It'll wear out soon.”

A husky laugh, then a hand caressed his face soothingly, “It's too early in the morning Yo~tan.”

Yohji didn't like the sensual way that his name was drawled out, the blatant sexual confidence nor the comfortable closeness of their relaxed bodies.

 

_What_ the hell had he done last night?

 

Violet eyes blinked from the thick veil of long dark lashes, the slanted eyes were heated ice, finely shaped auburn brows were skillfully arched above them. Those orbs regarded him in amusement and soft understanding, the generous lower lip curved in benign smile, as if trying to take pity on him.

 

The man sat up slowly, his hard nipples rubbing against Yohji's, their legs untangled almost reluctantly and their limp members brushing in a brief intimate contact that made Yohji's breathing hitch slightly. The beautiful man straddled him wantonly, draped insolently over his thighs, displaying himself in such as state of erotic debauchery that made Yohji keenly aware of their mingling body heat and the insistent press of soft skin and hard muscle.

 

The redhead gave him a mischievous glance and ran his hands lightly over Yohji's belly, tracing recognizable and obscene kanji symbols with long pale digits. Tapered fingers moved lower, teasing, deftly and almost aggressively. Yohji caught the slim wrist before it went too far and their gazes locked, he was shocked at the intense heat and flickers of desire in the deep amethyst of those seductive eyes, he felt as if he had been scorched, yet they held a hesitant question in them. A plea, askance for permission that Yohji wasn't sure he'd be able to give.

 

The man leaned down until their noses were almost touching, and Yohji's field of vision darkened as a thick burgundy mane of silk enclosed both him and that striking face. Yohji found himself drawn as he ran his hands through that impossibly long hair.

He almost remembered then, blazing eyes, a wet screaming mouth, a gracefully arched pale neck, the telltale creaking of the bed, his own buttocks flexing, his hardness straining inside that tight heat, the uncontrolled thrusts of flesh slapping against flesh and finally those brilliant sparks that sent him careening into nothingness, swamping his strength and leaving him a quivering bundle half passed out in his own semen. What Yohji did remember was that the sex had been too good, almost unreal; he felt like they had shot cocaine and morphine in his system then bombarded him with the simultaneous pleasure of ten orgasms. It had been an inhuman experience and that scared the shit out of him.

 

Hell, he had _fucked_ the pale man into the damn mattress and with rising horror Yohji realized that his own body was beginning to respond to those memories and that he wanted to do it again, and again and again. He closed his eyes in denial, something was wrong with his body, he could feel it, a tempered restlessness wrapped around him almost dancing out of his reach and it threatened to take him over the edge. He felt sick, disgusted and utterly satisfied.

 

Yet, Yohji was hypnotized, he threaded his fingers through flaming tresses, the whispering slide of reddish threads against him and he felt the craving in those eyes as they followed his every move, watching with an almost rhapsodized expression, looking at the hands that were raking and half twirling through the heavy drape of his hair.

Their gazes clashed once more and Yohji's hands snaked around the nape of a slim neck, tickling the soft hair there, he drew him closer and their lips met in a lazy, wet kiss. Their tongues caressed each other, knowing, familiar. Yohji fought back a groan as that talented mouth drew back, but then firm lips pressed against his, once, twice then they were gone again.

“No,” he rasped out.

A curious tongue lapped at his lower lip and a long fingered hand slithered over the tense muscles of his hard belly and wrapped around the neglected erection at the junction of his trembling thighs. Yohji moaned softly, seeking more contact, wanting more and not remembering of what. A blunt nail ran long his cock, scraping the sensitive flesh gently then rubbing it in soothing motions with the rough pads of nimble fingers, stroking the slick shaft then fisting at the base as the rigid flesh engorged and twitched in his hand.

 

“Don't worry, the aphrodisiac seems to be working,” the man said softly, “You shouldn't have accepted that mission, but then again it was all in my plans, my fault if you will it.”

 

Teeth ran over his lips, biting gently, a pink tongue glided across the full length of his lower lip then sharp teeth sunk into it. Yohji made a sound between a strangled scream and a curse. He felt the coppery tang of blood and to his own repugnance he became even more excited. Then a soft mouth soothed him, pulling at the malleable flesh and lapping up the red liquid greedily. Yohji turned his face away, ashamed of his own need and arousal.

 

“No,” he whispered, his voice weak to his own ears.

 

The hand around his cock began to move, smooth and controlled. Yohji's hips rolled instinctively into it, his balls heavy and his hardness encased in a callused yet delicate embrace that was pumping idly at a slow, languid pace, a thumb brushing the head in small careful circles then stroking him again, it was driving him insane.

He tossed his head, revealing the golden expanse of his throat as a seeking mouth sucked the tanned flesh, nibbling and nipping as Yohji's desperate cries filled the room, even as he tried to muffle them the hand moved faster trapping him in an inescapable rhythm as he thrust into the tight fist harder. He came unexpectedly, seed bursting in milky ribbons and splattering all over the white digits that stroked him so tenderly. Yohji fell back on the bed, panting heavily and disoriented once more, a feeling that was becoming awfully familiar as he tried to force his harsh breathing into normalcy.

Yet.

There was something more, he was restless, overwhelmed by agitation. Yohji moved swiftly, his hands searching on their own accord; gripping the narrow waist tightly, he flipped the smaller man onto his back, reversing their positions. The pale man stretched beneath him like a satisfied cat, “Hmm,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I was wondering when you were going to do that.”

 

Yohji growled, that hair was strewn across the pillows in a river or blood, emerald eyes followed the length of the slim flexible body, the hard angles and stiff pink nipples, the delicate muscles that flexed in anticipation. Yohji captured that sweet mouth again, he felt as if he was catapulting into a sea of swirling heat, warmth settled over him like a soft tropical drizzle. Strong legs twisted and the lithe limbs curled around his waist firmly, trapping their weeping erections between their muscled stomachs. Blunt fingernails dug into his hips almost painfully demanding more friction. Yohji felt the rough ripple of strength under that porcelain layer of skin as he leaned into the graceful neck, his mouth opening in anticipation and a new wave of lust for something completely different crashed over him. He felt something inside him move, he heard someone screaming and dazedly realized came from the rumbling depths of his own throat; something throbbed wildly, his heart began to pound. His body tensed, he was thrumming and he felt an unspeakable hunger, a blinding need, his breathing heavy, labored and his body yearning for something, he didn't know what it was.

 

He rolled away, breathing had become painful and his body felt as if it was on fire. His vision murky then everything became a swirling red. He fell to his knees, his limbs wrapped closely around his waist as his mouth opened, he tried to scream again but nothing came out only a half choked cry that echoed in the room. It was a keening cry, not human. Yohji looked at his own hands in horror.

 

“What the fuck is happening to me?” he croaked out.

 

The pale man came forward, walking towards him, graceful and swift in his unabashed nakedness, his hair swaying and swirling around his narrow hips. He knelt down beside Yohji and unhooked the vise like grip that the blond had on himself as if trying to keep something from coming out.

“Shhh, calm down, don't fight it,” the tone was low, soothing……resigned.

 

Yohji looked at him, emerald eyes with flecks of red swirling in them, they were wet and tears spilled from those doe like orbs. Yohji's body tensed, his hands fisting at his sides and he cowered on the floor curling his arms around his knees as he slowly rocked back and forth. His blond hair danced around his terrorized face and his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to squeeze his own tears into oblivion. The redhead grabbed Yohji, pulling him forward and cradled his head with his hands; he gently placed a fleeting kiss on those trembling lips and then brought them to rest against his throat.

 

“Do it,” he said, almost angrily, “just fucking get it over with.”

 

Yohji's eyes widened considerably, but something else was calling him, pushing him, taunting him. He felt the blood roaring in his ears, his vision became blurry and felt something in his mouth expanding, elongating to accommodate his unpredictable hunger. He moaned, and his teeth scraped over the smooth arch of that white neck, his gaze latching to the blue vein that ran under that almost translucent skin, he bit into the flesh gently. Tiny fangs sunk sharply into the smooth throat, hearing the faint resistance of piercing unmarred skin. His lips closed over the small pinpricks, blood caressing his wet lips as he convulsed in pleasure. He licked, his being filled with a great misery and an unquenchable thirst.

He wanted blood, he wanted it, craved it, and would die for it.

His eyes closed in pleasure as blood gushed into his mouth and he sucked, reverently and hungrily. In the distance of his consciousness he heard a stifled cry then a soft moan as the pale man said weakly, “It's done.”

After that, he knew no more.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Wake the fuck up idiot.”

Bloodshot evergreen eyes stared accusingly at the intruder whose attention seemed to be on something else. Yohji looked at the thin sheets that were doing a half decent job of covering him and saw the proud jut of his visible hard on.

Violet eyes regarded him scornfully and everything clicked back into its normal, expected place. The man in front of him was Aya Fujimiya, resident grouch of Koneko Sumo Ie and the gorgeous leader of their assassin team, the Weiss nutcase he almost fucked in his dream and who made him drink blood. He didn't know what the hell had brought that eerie dream but he was glad that it had been just that, one hell of a strange dream. Everything was ordinary, and Yohji sighed in relief.

Weird dream, he thought, just fucking weird.

Oh yeah, the fucking mission, he'd gotten captured and drugged, supposedly the remaining members of Weiss, mainly Aya, had been forced to go on a speedy undercover rescue mission. Not that he remembered much, but given that he was home, in his own bed, having weird dreams about an impossible man and hoping to have the damn drugs out of his system, he figured that it would be okay. Now back to Mr. Early Bird.

He glared at Aya venomously, the redhead looked ready to work and surprisingly cool and tidy at eleven in the morning, as usual. His long hair was threaded into a messy braid and he wore a white long sleeved shirt and black faded jeans, they seemed to be unusually tight for Aya's taste and the man looked even paler that usual, with a frail sheen to his face making seem almost ethereal in the gentle light trickling from the windows.

Yohji rested his body against the pillows, closing his eyes in contentment, he heard a snort from Aya and almost did a double take as the man walked over to the bed and sat on the corner.

“Are you alright?”

Yohji started at that soft tone of voice, “Aa. Why do you ask?”

Aya shrugged, he was acting strange, Yohji thought.

He bent his head, luminous red bangs shading his eyes and obscuring Aya's expression from Yohji's view.

“It's nothing, forget I asked.”

Yohji stared at Aya in bewilderment; he was utterly perplexed at the man's antics. Well he guessed that Aya wasn't so bitchy in the morning, and he wouldn't know because Yohji Kudoh made it strictly a rule not to awaken before noon. Yohji ran a hand through his dirty blond curls and rubbed gingerly at his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep out of them.

Aya stood, his face turned towards the window, “I'm glad……….”

Just too fucking creepy, Yohji grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the night stand and lit one, puffing away furiously, first that dream and now a wistful and disoriented Aya.

He pinched himself. Hard.

Nope, he was still awake and Aya was still staring out the window with an odd look on his face. Aya looked back at him on the bed and for a moment Yohji saw the flash of a predatory gleam in those amethyst orbs, but then it was gone, he shook his head.

Must be the damn light, there was too much of it. His skin was getting hot.

 

“Oi, Aya.”

 

Aya turned to face him, “Nani?”

 

“Close the shades will you? It's hurting my eyes.”

 

Was that a smile he saw on Aya's face? No, it couldn't be, Ice Queen didn't smile. Aya did as he was told, that small smile still gracing his pale features and softening his expression. Aya's head tilted to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I want you downstairs in five minutes.”

 

It wasn't an order, well not the usual snarled out command, it was a soft drawl in its careful articulation, a lower note in Aya's gentle baritone that reminded Yohji of things he couldn't remember. Something, he was missing something.

 

“I'll be there,” he replied.

 

Aya nodded briskly and walked towards the door, for a brief moment the collar of his shirt slid against his neck and revealed two small indentations, tiny holes that were visibly purplish red against the porcelain throat. Yohji stopped breathing. It was almost too much. He was sure he had seen it. Oh God!

It wasn't a dream, it had actually happened! What the hell was going on? He was just about to call out Aya's name when said man turned around to face him again.

“Hey Yohji?” the tone was wicked in a mixture of naughtiness.

“Yeah?” he managed to reply, mouth dry, and mental wheels turning.

“Ohayo.” Aya was smiling, and in the light, tiny fangs were visible and protruded from the neat line of his teeth. Yohji let out a startled cry, almost falling from the bed, and in a flash of light, Aya was gone.

 

 

OWARI.

 

 

 

 

 

Did you just wonder: what the hell was that? Yea? Well I do that all the time, this is one of those fics that you just keep typing even though you have no idea were you're going. I'm used to my bouts of insanity so I take advantage of them. I don't know if I'll write a sequel I don't know why I did this or what I was thinking, I just hope u enjoy it. I'm just bored. Maybe I'll turn it into a Vampire Series, but for now they'll just be in stand alone fics.