Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Hits Keep Coming ❯ Chapter 14
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Just ‘cause you ask so nicely, chibiness...
**************
Finally, finally, oh dear gods, finally a shower...Yohji barely waited till it was warm enough he could keep from yelping, before he slipped under the spray. Smartest damn thing he ever did, convincing the others they needed one of those real showers, with tons of hot water from every direction...
Mark the record books, this one went down as possibly the most annoying, frustrating, just generally obnoxious day Kudou Yohji had ever spent.
The doctors at Magic Bus had separated Weiss, but not enough. He’d spent his day with Aya in reach but untouchable, shirtless most of the time, icy all the time, and oh gods smelling so damned fuckable...
Note that again. FUCKABLE. Yohji liked an occasional round of rough sex, but it wasn’t his usual style. Today, though—gods. Throw the man down and fuck him silly, and if he fought at first all the better, Yohji wanted FUCKED as bad as he wanted to FUCK, and knowing Aya could take it, wasn’t some pretty little thing he’d have to be careful not to hurt...
Yohji groaned and forgot about washing. He’d showered last for a reason, he’d known this was going to happen. He leaned his forehead on his arm on the wall, took himself in hand and pictured Aya sword-dancing last night. Imagined snaring the katana with his wire, flinging it across the room, Aya turning to glare at him, oh gods that glare made his dick twitch every time...Aya tensing, reading his intentions in his face, and the redhead wasn’t going down easy, thank gods...Yohji pacing across the mats, circling him, watching for an opening, Aya turning to keep him in front, in the shower Yohji’s hand going faster, in his mind he pounced, Aya met him, for a moment they grappled, then Yohji captured a wrist, used a Jujitsu move to spin Aya into a better grip, oh gods that glorious skin pressed against him, that perfect little ass against his cock and that sexy snarl as Aya promised retribution, now he had the man, how was he going to manage—grand thing about fantasies, with a thought Yohji’s clothes were gone, he pressed his aching length against sweat-damp skin and felt the hitch in Aya’s breathing—right before the redhead got a leg between his, threw him around and over and pounced, they rolled across the mats, skin on skin and erections rubbing and now the fight was different, tongues tangling, limbs straining, needing closer, more, more taste, more contact, more friction, rocking frantically and still fighting for top...Aya snarled and wrapped his legs around Yohji. Not surrendering, even in a fantasy Aya wouldn’t do that. No, taking. Demanding what he wanted, planting his feet on Yohji’s ass and forcing him where he wanted to be, both shouted as their bodies were joined, oh gods, oh fuck, so hot, so perfect, so Aya, writhing, straining, fighting to get more, harder, faster, bruising fingers on his ass, rocking them harder...Yohji buried his shout in his arm as he came, skyrockets in his head and his knees going weak, oh gods...
For a long moment he rested against the wall, pulling himself together. That had been the best fantasy yet, though it didn’t top the dream. He had to find a way to make it real. With a sigh he reached for the shower gel and his favorite loufa. Serious scrubbing needed today, that was sure. For glowing skin, exfoliate regularly...mmm, glowing skin, pale as moonlight...
Not again. Damn it, exhausted or not, he was going out. Clearly the self-stimulation was not getting the job done, and it wasn’t damn likely he was going to talk Aya into anything tonight, after the day they’d all just—ow!
Scrubbing the back of his neck, and he’d hit—Yohji ran his fingers over the injury and felt his eyes widen. Gods, gods, there were teeth marks on the back of his neck! Oh holy shit, Aya on his back and inside him, biting him as he came, telling him—
“Mine.”
Oh HELL no. If Aya thought he was going to come into Yohji’s room, handcuff him, fuck him, mark him and claim him and then pretend it never happened—Yohji gave the rest of his body a cursory scrub, mind racing. What the hell was the redhead thinking? It didn’t make any sense. Aya didn’t say what he didn’t mean. If he just wanted a one-off, to deal with urges brought up by the drug, why had he said “mine”? If he wanted Yohji to be his—which there would be some debate, damn it, Yohji wouldn’t mind sex like that every night and morning and some afternoons, but gods damn it he was going to have some input at some point—why pretend nothing happened?
Maybe he didn’t know it was real. Yohji had decided it was a dream, maybe Aya had too. With just enough drug left in their systems to give them vivid dreams, it was plausible. Though, damn it, Aya had come to him, he ought to remember walking out of his room and into Yohji’s...
He washed his hair quickly, then changed his mind, slowed down and took a “gonna get laid” shower. Primped and dressed carefully in casually fuckable style—as opposed to “throw me down and fuck,” his clubbing style that probably wouldn’t be a good start to talking to Aya—and went looking for the redheaded dream-come-true.
Went back and stuck a small tube of lube in his pocket, in case said redhead was as horny as he was.
Gods he hoped so.
**************
Finally, finally, oh dear gods, finally a shower...Yohji barely waited till it was warm enough he could keep from yelping, before he slipped under the spray. Smartest damn thing he ever did, convincing the others they needed one of those real showers, with tons of hot water from every direction...
Mark the record books, this one went down as possibly the most annoying, frustrating, just generally obnoxious day Kudou Yohji had ever spent.
The doctors at Magic Bus had separated Weiss, but not enough. He’d spent his day with Aya in reach but untouchable, shirtless most of the time, icy all the time, and oh gods smelling so damned fuckable...
Note that again. FUCKABLE. Yohji liked an occasional round of rough sex, but it wasn’t his usual style. Today, though—gods. Throw the man down and fuck him silly, and if he fought at first all the better, Yohji wanted FUCKED as bad as he wanted to FUCK, and knowing Aya could take it, wasn’t some pretty little thing he’d have to be careful not to hurt...
Yohji groaned and forgot about washing. He’d showered last for a reason, he’d known this was going to happen. He leaned his forehead on his arm on the wall, took himself in hand and pictured Aya sword-dancing last night. Imagined snaring the katana with his wire, flinging it across the room, Aya turning to glare at him, oh gods that glare made his dick twitch every time...Aya tensing, reading his intentions in his face, and the redhead wasn’t going down easy, thank gods...Yohji pacing across the mats, circling him, watching for an opening, Aya turning to keep him in front, in the shower Yohji’s hand going faster, in his mind he pounced, Aya met him, for a moment they grappled, then Yohji captured a wrist, used a Jujitsu move to spin Aya into a better grip, oh gods that glorious skin pressed against him, that perfect little ass against his cock and that sexy snarl as Aya promised retribution, now he had the man, how was he going to manage—grand thing about fantasies, with a thought Yohji’s clothes were gone, he pressed his aching length against sweat-damp skin and felt the hitch in Aya’s breathing—right before the redhead got a leg between his, threw him around and over and pounced, they rolled across the mats, skin on skin and erections rubbing and now the fight was different, tongues tangling, limbs straining, needing closer, more, more taste, more contact, more friction, rocking frantically and still fighting for top...Aya snarled and wrapped his legs around Yohji. Not surrendering, even in a fantasy Aya wouldn’t do that. No, taking. Demanding what he wanted, planting his feet on Yohji’s ass and forcing him where he wanted to be, both shouted as their bodies were joined, oh gods, oh fuck, so hot, so perfect, so Aya, writhing, straining, fighting to get more, harder, faster, bruising fingers on his ass, rocking them harder...Yohji buried his shout in his arm as he came, skyrockets in his head and his knees going weak, oh gods...
For a long moment he rested against the wall, pulling himself together. That had been the best fantasy yet, though it didn’t top the dream. He had to find a way to make it real. With a sigh he reached for the shower gel and his favorite loufa. Serious scrubbing needed today, that was sure. For glowing skin, exfoliate regularly...mmm, glowing skin, pale as moonlight...
Not again. Damn it, exhausted or not, he was going out. Clearly the self-stimulation was not getting the job done, and it wasn’t damn likely he was going to talk Aya into anything tonight, after the day they’d all just—ow!
Scrubbing the back of his neck, and he’d hit—Yohji ran his fingers over the injury and felt his eyes widen. Gods, gods, there were teeth marks on the back of his neck! Oh holy shit, Aya on his back and inside him, biting him as he came, telling him—
“Mine.”
Oh HELL no. If Aya thought he was going to come into Yohji’s room, handcuff him, fuck him, mark him and claim him and then pretend it never happened—Yohji gave the rest of his body a cursory scrub, mind racing. What the hell was the redhead thinking? It didn’t make any sense. Aya didn’t say what he didn’t mean. If he just wanted a one-off, to deal with urges brought up by the drug, why had he said “mine”? If he wanted Yohji to be his—which there would be some debate, damn it, Yohji wouldn’t mind sex like that every night and morning and some afternoons, but gods damn it he was going to have some input at some point—why pretend nothing happened?
Maybe he didn’t know it was real. Yohji had decided it was a dream, maybe Aya had too. With just enough drug left in their systems to give them vivid dreams, it was plausible. Though, damn it, Aya had come to him, he ought to remember walking out of his room and into Yohji’s...
He washed his hair quickly, then changed his mind, slowed down and took a “gonna get laid” shower. Primped and dressed carefully in casually fuckable style—as opposed to “throw me down and fuck,” his clubbing style that probably wouldn’t be a good start to talking to Aya—and went looking for the redheaded dream-come-true.
Went back and stuck a small tube of lube in his pocket, in case said redhead was as horny as he was.
Gods he hoped so.