Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Hits Keep Coming ❯ Chapter 21
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KD Sarge 
Meep-less, Yohji mopes.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.04.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 529 | Status: Work In Progress
Meep-less, Yohji mopes.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.04.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 529 | Status: Work In Progress
Weiss mourned. Pouted, even. Hunters of the night, murderers all, and they wandered about lost for missing the cute little fluffball that had brought so much joy into their lives.
And sex, Yohji thought, with a glare upwards at an exceptionally loud THUMP. Joy and sex. Joy of sex. Never forget the sex.
Not that he could. Not for even a moment. Yohji thought about that fantastic sex all the time and it was driving him crazy. Every time he saw Aya he wanted to tackle the man; when he couldn't see the redhead he planned exactly how he would tackle him for maximum gropage in the minimum amount of time since he was fairly certain the tackle would be his last act and he damned well meant to enjoy it.
He had a lot of planning time, as Aya was avoiding him. The redhead made the shop schedule; he always had since he joined Weiss. Now he set it up so he and Yohji never worked together. And when Yohji was off, Aya made sure he had too much other stuff to do to go bothering Aya at work. Also, the swordsman took to carrying his katana everywhere he went, though the fangirls had not yet gathered the courage to come back.
Ken and Omi avoided Yohji too, and each other, and Aya. Aya because he was exceptionally cranky, each other because they were embarrassed, and Yohji because...well, he wasn't exactly at his best socially either. He'd gone out a couple times. Aya had made no attempt to stop him. Hadn't come and fetched him. Hadn't so much as lifted an eyebrow when he came home smelling of perfume and sporting artfully-drawn lipstick smears.
So yeah. Four days, no sex. Damn Aya anyway. If he weren't such a frickin' awesome fuck, Yohji could have moved on by now.
It didn't help that he now woke up shouting from two different dreams. The old one, the Asuka one, still came, but less often. Apparently his subconscious preferred playing in the other one. The one with Aya trussed up in pink tulle, his body glistening--
Yohji groaned and rolled over on the sofa, thrust against the cushion to get a little friction. Gods and spirits, he was going to explode if he didn't find a way to nail the redhead!
Another THUMP, another glare. Yohji wished the chibis had gone on avoiding each other. Listening to them was only making his own need worse. Damn Aya anyway! And damn Ken, and that damned kitten...
Yohji moped. So had Omi, until Ken stormed out and thudded back, bearing the Aya-defying gift of a long-tailed ball of fluff. It was mutual love at first sight, and Omi and the kitten inflicted raptures of kawai-ness on the rest of Weiss until Omi thanked Ken. And then began another Nature Show Sing-Along. Yohji had cursed and stomped off.
his decision to get himself dressed up and go the hell out wasn't hampered by anyone in any way.
An hour and several drinks later, Yohji decided to get really angry about that, and stomped back home. Either the bastard meant "mine" or he didn't!
But Aya wasn't there. So Yohji retreated to the mission room and the loudest program he could find. But even Tasmanian devils screeching at each other over a choice bit of rotted carcass couldn't drown out Omi and Ken and the Joyous Adventures of the Incredible Bouncing Bed!
He hoped the effing thing broke.
Everyone's Favorite Kudou Yohji, Yotan, God's Gift to Hot Bods Everywhere, growled so he wouldn't whine. Pathetic, Manx had said. Right before she whipped out her phone and got herself some phone sex, and probably some contact-sex right after that. She got laid, Omi got laid, Ken got laid, and the mighty Yotan dry-humped a goddamn couch.
Think, Kudou. Yohji flipped back over and tried to ignore his throbbing nether regions. Think. He didn't want anyone else; he'd proved that. So he had to find a way to get Aya. Get his hands on that skin again, taste--
Yohji yanked his hands away from his pants, stuck them under his head. That was not the thinking he needed to be doing. Methods, plans, he needed to find a way to get his hands on the redhead, not figure out what to do once he did. That part he'd already plotted out plenty.
So. He still had all the Sexy Bastard bait, but he couldn't use it if he couldn't get near the man. Tackling him was a last resort; Aya was almost certain to kill him before any fucking could commence. And after--well, eww. Yohji doubted Aya kinked that way, and was quite certain he himself didn't want to be on the receiving end of sex he was beyond feeling.
Che but Aya sent his brain to babbling even when he was nowhere around.
Where was the ice prince anyway? Midnight had come and gone. Even the Tarzan re-enactment upstairs was winding down. Where the hell did Aya go when he vanished for hours on end? An all night bookstore? Only certain kinds of books were sold in such places, and while Yohji had learned Aya wasn't the chaste glacier he'd thought, he still couldn't picture the redhead hanging out in such a place. A coffee shop with a more respectable book? That didn't seem likely. The redhead was too lovely; everyone from the busboy to the waitress would be throwing themselves at him. He'd never have the chance to read.
Maybe he just drove. Yohji did that sometimes when he needed to think. On and on for hours, peace and darkness flowing over him. Damn, how he'd love to take Aya for a drive like that. Glancing over to see that red hair whipping in the wind, that stern face relaxed as Aya pondered deep thoughts that had nothing to do with killing or flowers. And when he wanted to know what Aya was thinking, Yohji would pull over on a narrow mountain shoulder that saw maybe a car a week and take the blanket out of the trunk and there under the stars he would ask, and in that wonderful rich voice Aya would tell him and then--
Yohji groaned again and tugged his pants open. Fine. Maybe once he got off he could get his damned brain to focus on how to get off a little more regularly, and with an effing partner!
Now. Yohji stared at his unruly member and pondered a fantasy. Aya, of course. Nothing else got him anywhere anymore, not even Manx and Birman wrestling in blue jello. But not the pink tulle. It took him too fast, and maybe that was why he kept having to do this. So...well, under the stars seemed good. If he had to make it up as he went, it would go slower.
And so it was that Yohji lay on the couch in the mission room, staring at his dick in his hand, when Aya glided down the stairs.
And sex, Yohji thought, with a glare upwards at an exceptionally loud THUMP. Joy and sex. Joy of sex. Never forget the sex.
Not that he could. Not for even a moment. Yohji thought about that fantastic sex all the time and it was driving him crazy. Every time he saw Aya he wanted to tackle the man; when he couldn't see the redhead he planned exactly how he would tackle him for maximum gropage in the minimum amount of time since he was fairly certain the tackle would be his last act and he damned well meant to enjoy it.
He had a lot of planning time, as Aya was avoiding him. The redhead made the shop schedule; he always had since he joined Weiss. Now he set it up so he and Yohji never worked together. And when Yohji was off, Aya made sure he had too much other stuff to do to go bothering Aya at work. Also, the swordsman took to carrying his katana everywhere he went, though the fangirls had not yet gathered the courage to come back.
Ken and Omi avoided Yohji too, and each other, and Aya. Aya because he was exceptionally cranky, each other because they were embarrassed, and Yohji because...well, he wasn't exactly at his best socially either. He'd gone out a couple times. Aya had made no attempt to stop him. Hadn't come and fetched him. Hadn't so much as lifted an eyebrow when he came home smelling of perfume and sporting artfully-drawn lipstick smears.
So yeah. Four days, no sex. Damn Aya anyway. If he weren't such a frickin' awesome fuck, Yohji could have moved on by now.
It didn't help that he now woke up shouting from two different dreams. The old one, the Asuka one, still came, but less often. Apparently his subconscious preferred playing in the other one. The one with Aya trussed up in pink tulle, his body glistening--
Yohji groaned and rolled over on the sofa, thrust against the cushion to get a little friction. Gods and spirits, he was going to explode if he didn't find a way to nail the redhead!
Another THUMP, another glare. Yohji wished the chibis had gone on avoiding each other. Listening to them was only making his own need worse. Damn Aya anyway! And damn Ken, and that damned kitten...
Yohji moped. So had Omi, until Ken stormed out and thudded back, bearing the Aya-defying gift of a long-tailed ball of fluff. It was mutual love at first sight, and Omi and the kitten inflicted raptures of kawai-ness on the rest of Weiss until Omi thanked Ken. And then began another Nature Show Sing-Along. Yohji had cursed and stomped off.
his decision to get himself dressed up and go the hell out wasn't hampered by anyone in any way.
An hour and several drinks later, Yohji decided to get really angry about that, and stomped back home. Either the bastard meant "mine" or he didn't!
But Aya wasn't there. So Yohji retreated to the mission room and the loudest program he could find. But even Tasmanian devils screeching at each other over a choice bit of rotted carcass couldn't drown out Omi and Ken and the Joyous Adventures of the Incredible Bouncing Bed!
He hoped the effing thing broke.
Everyone's Favorite Kudou Yohji, Yotan, God's Gift to Hot Bods Everywhere, growled so he wouldn't whine. Pathetic, Manx had said. Right before she whipped out her phone and got herself some phone sex, and probably some contact-sex right after that. She got laid, Omi got laid, Ken got laid, and the mighty Yotan dry-humped a goddamn couch.
Think, Kudou. Yohji flipped back over and tried to ignore his throbbing nether regions. Think. He didn't want anyone else; he'd proved that. So he had to find a way to get Aya. Get his hands on that skin again, taste--
Yohji yanked his hands away from his pants, stuck them under his head. That was not the thinking he needed to be doing. Methods, plans, he needed to find a way to get his hands on the redhead, not figure out what to do once he did. That part he'd already plotted out plenty.
So. He still had all the Sexy Bastard bait, but he couldn't use it if he couldn't get near the man. Tackling him was a last resort; Aya was almost certain to kill him before any fucking could commence. And after--well, eww. Yohji doubted Aya kinked that way, and was quite certain he himself didn't want to be on the receiving end of sex he was beyond feeling.
Che but Aya sent his brain to babbling even when he was nowhere around.
Where was the ice prince anyway? Midnight had come and gone. Even the Tarzan re-enactment upstairs was winding down. Where the hell did Aya go when he vanished for hours on end? An all night bookstore? Only certain kinds of books were sold in such places, and while Yohji had learned Aya wasn't the chaste glacier he'd thought, he still couldn't picture the redhead hanging out in such a place. A coffee shop with a more respectable book? That didn't seem likely. The redhead was too lovely; everyone from the busboy to the waitress would be throwing themselves at him. He'd never have the chance to read.
Maybe he just drove. Yohji did that sometimes when he needed to think. On and on for hours, peace and darkness flowing over him. Damn, how he'd love to take Aya for a drive like that. Glancing over to see that red hair whipping in the wind, that stern face relaxed as Aya pondered deep thoughts that had nothing to do with killing or flowers. And when he wanted to know what Aya was thinking, Yohji would pull over on a narrow mountain shoulder that saw maybe a car a week and take the blanket out of the trunk and there under the stars he would ask, and in that wonderful rich voice Aya would tell him and then--
Yohji groaned again and tugged his pants open. Fine. Maybe once he got off he could get his damned brain to focus on how to get off a little more regularly, and with an effing partner!
Now. Yohji stared at his unruly member and pondered a fantasy. Aya, of course. Nothing else got him anywhere anymore, not even Manx and Birman wrestling in blue jello. But not the pink tulle. It took him too fast, and maybe that was why he kept having to do this. So...well, under the stars seemed good. If he had to make it up as he went, it would go slower.
And so it was that Yohji lay on the couch in the mission room, staring at his dick in his hand, when Aya glided down the stairs.