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

SATE

By Shi-koi

Fandom: Weiss Kreuz

Series: First in 'Ardor' series.

Rating: R

Pairing: Yohji x Aya.

Status: Complete

Warnings: Lemony, angst, mild non-con/coercion, yaoi.

Disclaimer: No own, no sue.

Summary: Yohji wants Aya and he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Notes: Some minor OOC-ness, but then again, none of the Weiss boys are gay, so that's kinda a moot point. *snerk*

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He'd walked into it blind. How stupid of him.

The cold cut of wires pinned him against the wall, the dense press of the shadows robbing all vision from him. Aya was trapped, and the realisation grated at him. The safe house was supposed to be just that, safe. But he'd let down his guard and now he was paying for it.

The minutes crept past in relative silence, the only sounds were those of Aya's harsh breathing and the faded echo of far-away traffic, what little there was at two am on a Thursday night, sorry, Friday morning.

In a way Aya was relieved that nothing had happened yet. In fact, he would have thought that this was simply one of Yohji's traps, had he not ensured this place had been supposedly clear before he'd embarked on the mission.

There had been a moment of confusion the minute Aya had unlocked the door and tried the defunct light switch. That should have warned him, but he'd been so confident of his abilities that he'd ignored his gut instinct, and he was too tired to care. As a result, Aya had had the chance to take a few wary steps into the room before the razor-sharp wire had sprung up, criss-crossing his arms, chest and legs before tightening with a sudden ferocity, twisting his body around and forcing his back against the wall opposite the door. He'd lost his grip on his katana, not that it should have mattered under the circumstances since he couldn't have used it anyway, but somehow the loss made all the difference, tugging at Aya's insecurities, his helplessness.

Aya hated being helpless.

It was one of the reason's he'd become an assassin, he'd been too weak to help his parents, to protect his sister, too helpless to even pay for his now comatose younger sister's medical attention. Becoming an assassin gave him some power over his sister's life, gave him a way to protect her, provide the help she needed.

No, being at the mercy of another was one of Aya's deepest fears.

Something niggled at him, something at the back of his mind. Aya gave the thought free rein.

Then it struck.

The wires stopped at Aya's neck. Exactly at the line where his black clingy turtleneck sweater ended and pale creamy flesh began. If it had been Ken or Omi, both of whom were inches shorter than the tall, slim redhead, then the wires could easily have beheaded them, or slit their throats. But they were at the perfect height to subdue Aya without harm.

Aya cursed silently, wishing for a brief second that there was a window to let light in. He knew what the room should look like. A bed to his right, about a dozen feet away, a doorway leading to a small toilet and shower to his left beside a small table and two wooden chairs. It was, quite simply, barely serviceable. But then again, it was only used in emergencies, or when one or more of them had to get out of sight for a few hours, maybe patch themselves up or grab some sleep.

So why lay a trap that would probably not be triggered for a long while, if ever? There was only one answer that came to Aya's mind. One person, someone slightly taller than Aya himself, who could calculate the exact height needed, the person with the right weapon, the right motive and the only one with plenty of opportunities, only one person knew enough of Aya's fears to be able to play on them so well. One person. His teammate. "...Balinese." Aya breathed out.

There was a low chuckle from the far side of the room. Aya tensed, then forced himself to relax at the bite of sharp wires . There was a flash of flame as the person ignited a lighter and lit their cigarette, the flame disappearing shortly after, leaving the dull orange glow of the cigarette.

Aya bared his teeth in a soundless snarl. "Yohji."

Yohji took a deep drag before blowing it out leisurely, the smoke lost in the blackness of shadow and lack of light. "Took you long enough."

Violet eyes darkened almost to black narrowed. "Release me."

He got an inelegant snort in response.

"Why should I?"

Yohji stalked forwards silently, his expensive leather boots gliding across the cheaply carpeted floor. He walked with a feline grace, cat-like and sinuous. Aya watched the small orange glow of ash as Yohji flicked a small amount of ash into an ashtray on the table, one which hadn't been there before.

So...Yohji had definitely planned this.

"Are you a traitor?" Aya asked icily.

There was a flowing laugh, and it was pure, unadulterated Yohji. It curled around your toes and darted up through your veins, warming the belly and creeping behind defences. Omi had once pointed out that Yohji's laugh was one of his best weapons, or assets, depending on how you looked at it. Women fell over themselves to grace Yohji's arm and bed, simply due to his laugh, it was even better in full, when you could see him throw his head back, his long shoulder-length oak-brown hair with it's honey highlights burning like fire-lit bronze and wood, his cat's-green eyes half-lidded and sparkling with joy and that long, lithe, slightly tanned and steel-lined muscled body arched.

There were few people who could resist it when Yohji laughed.

Aya knew his looks were easily on par with the dark blondes', his hair, so dark a red that it bordered on magenta framed a delicate face with high cheekbones and magnolia-pale skin, slanted violet eyes deep and mesmerising. His body was all toned creamy skin over a sleekly muscled body, slender, and trim. The body of a swimmer, or maybe, in Aya's case, a fighter. He knew he moved with an easy grace and when he went out he turned heads, no matter how little he wanted the attention.

"Well?" Aya demanded.

"No." Yohji said finally, "I'm not a traitor. I'm still loyal to Weiss."

"Then why keep me like this?" Aya asked flatly.

Yohji flicked the cigarette again. Aya heard him take in a long drag, then breathe it out slowly. "Because Aya, you can be so damned...thickheaded!" Yohji hissed the last word, and Aya was oddly glad he couldn't see the anger he was certain would be in his friend's eyes, if he was still a friend.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Yeah," Yohji uttered lowly, "I thought you wouldn't. That's why I had to resort to this." He abruptly stubbed the cigarette out, leaving the room in a dark as thick as tar, and with an atmosphere almost as heavy.

Aya frowned, then sucked in a deep breath as a hand ghosted softly across his cheek, stroking the silky skin. He let out a strangled gasp. "Yoh--"

"Shhh. Hush."

Velvet smooth soft lips found his own, and Aya couldn't help the small shudder that went through him as Yohji licked delicately at his closed lips, nipping just hard enough to make Aya yelp and open his mouth. Yohji wasted no time in pressing his advantage, assaulting Aya's mouth with an erotic and deep exploration, his tongue tasting, his warm breath mingling with Aya's. Yohji tasted of menthol cigarettes and wine, cinnamon and honey, sweet and harsh and oh-so inviting.

He gave a moan as Yohji stepped back, but whether it was from embarrassment or pleasure, Aya couldn't tell. He heard a sharp snik of a blade, and his fears flooded back.

"No...Yohji.."

A finger was placed on his lips, silencing him.

Yohji worked fast, cutting away the clothes from Aya's trapped form, leaving the parts under the wires to protect the easily sliceable skin from the sharp wires. Aya shivered when the cool night air brushed against him, biting his lip as his teammate worked. Not a sound uttered between them.

There was another snik as the blade was retracted, Yohji leaving Aya virtually naked, only his arms still covered. His chest was almost bare, a smattering of wires over his neck and belly, his body from the waist down completely bare except for two double crossings of wire around his knees and calves keeping him where he stood.

"Please...don't..." Aya pleaded as Yohji trailed a hand over his neck and down past his chest to curl around his bared sex, stroking Aya with talented hands.

"I wish I could see you." Yohji murmured, leaning his body against Aya's slightly smaller one. He nuzzled the soft skin of Aya's neck, biting in soft teasing nips. His breath raised goosebumps on Aya's skin, and he shivered. Yohji tangled his free hand in Aya's silken hair, forcing him to keep his head immobile. His lips descended again, hard and possessive, his tongue demanding entry where before he'd been gentle.

This kiss was anything but gentle. It was harsh and oppressive, and Yohji made full use of his experience, his lips grinding down almost painfully on the smaller males'. His hand coaxed Aya's cock to erection, his hand stroking the velvet skin in fast even strokes.

Then Aya moaned, and it was lost in the warmth of Yohji's questing mouth.

The blonde assassin pulled away abruptly. His lips trailed over Aya's cool skin, licking at his hardened nipples until he was on his knees. His mouth enveloped Aya's cock, and soft mewls of need echoed in the pitch-dark room.

"Please Yohji...please...not...not like this..."

Aya didn't really expect an answer, and he didn't get one. Yohji simply continued sucking, his mouth working his magic on his captured teammate. He could feel Aya tensing, and the sounds coming out of his mouth were kittenish and soft. Yohji placed a hand on Aya's chest when the redhead's legs started to buckle.

Speeding up, Yohji drew Aya's forced arousal down to the back of his throat, relaxing his muscles with ease. Aya sobbed at the hot wet heat of Yohji's mouth, his resolve crumbling into nothingness. He lost himself in white-hot ecstasy, his body giving up the struggle.

Yohji pulled back slightly, using his tongue and lips to drive Aya over the edge. He came into Yohji's mouth with a guttural cry of mingled pleasure and shame, his body trembling from the release.

Yohji stood, licking the traces of Aya's release off his reddened lips. His hand still steadying Aya's body. He froze as something wet landed on his hand, and he brought up a hand, tracing the planes of Aya's face, finding the tell-tale wetness of Aya's tears. A small broken sob escaped from Aya's tightly compressed lips and a shudder wracked his body.

"K'so." Yohji cursed. He quickly opened his knife and cut Aya down, catching him when his younger teammate crumpled so that Aya didn't hit the floor. His arms wound around Aya's neck as he crooned softly to the younger male, the same way you would with a frightened child or wary animal. "Shhh. Shhh, Aya."

The last of the scraps of fabric fell to the floor, and Yohji pulled the useless sleeves off to join them, unfastening and tugging the knee-high leather boots off his prone teammate. Yohji lifted Aya and laid him gently on the bed, tucking the blankets tight around his still trembling form.

"Forgive me Aya." Yohji whispered before he left.

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Owari

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