Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Vanilla ❯ Vanilla ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is property of Koyasu Takehito/Project Weiss.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the Gackt song, "Vanilla". I heard it and loved it, so it gave me a spurt of inspiration! This is not a songfic, just a one-shot, and it doesn't really have anything to do with the song itself, but you will see why I named it "Vanilla" as the fic goes on!

Aya's POV. Probably OOC. Hope you like!

Warning: Yaoi/shounen-ai. Lemon! Do not read if this offends!! If you truly dislike it, there should be no reason for you to open the fic up and take a look in the first place! So please be respectful!

Rating: NC-17

~*To Deena…this is a little something I wrote for you. Hope you enjoy it and I hope it can help bring you some cheer, even if it is only a tiny amount!*~

*~*~*~*~*~*

Is it okay to love, too? In the shaking night
It's good as it is More Deeper
As those almost maddening lips I've gotten used to melt together
I am...Your...Vanilla

Is it okay to love, too? In the shaking night
It's good as it is More You are
As those almost maddening hips I've gotten used to melt together
You are...My...keeper

*~*~*~*~*~*

Vanilla

*~*~*~*~*~*

He is the day to my night…the light to my darkness…the fire to my ice...

I watch him clandestinely, when I am sure no one can see my intent observation. I wonder how it is possible for someone to be so cheerful. He is nearly always smiling, joking, laughing. He takes everything in stride. Nothing can break him. He is so unlike myself. I am already broken, shattered. My guilt overwhelms me. It eats me up inside.

When night falls, I often find myself awake, staring out the window, watching as the hours drag by at a sluggish pace. The temptation to go to him tears at my insides. I want to be inside him, kiss his soul, bury myself in his warmth. I find his naivety endearing. He is a killer who has somehow kept his innocence. I marvel at that fact. My innocence was destroyed years ago, along with my family, my emotions. All that remains is ice, this eternal frigidity. I never allow myself to relax. It is as if my life has stopped, ceased to exist.

There was a time when I thought it didn't matter. I thought that I could continue as I have been, focused solely on revenge. I have observed the world through tunnel vision. I realize now that it does matter. I wish I could be carefree, I wish I could let go, I wish that I could hold him for the briefest moment. One second would suffice, just long enough to feel his heat.

It is torture to long for something and not have the eloquence to express your feelings. Yohji is the suave one, Ken is the guileless one. He hides nothing. I can see all of his emotion, his rage, his clumsiness. If he loved me, he would not hesitate to display it. He would not conceal it as I do, day after day after day.

How can I tell him that over these last months, over days of working together, nights of killing together, I have somehow fallen in love with him? Would he believe me? I am not one who can easily express what I feel. I maintain an icy silence mostly as a protection to myself. It would not do to appear vulnerable, to show weakness. I have to be strong and in control at all times. At least that is the image I force myself to portray.

He is passionate in everything he does. At times he is reckless, even foolish. He charges in head first while I always take the time to look around, to absorb my surroundings. He is loud, he is brash. He is everything that I am not.

To survey him with the children he coaches is one of my guilty pleasures. He is so beautiful in those moments, face glowing, eyes twinkling, golden skin gleaming with perspiration. I have fantasized about running my tongue over it, devouring his taste. I have dreamt of holding him beneath me and making him scream with ecstasy. The thought of him is like an aphrodisiac.

I know that he desires me. I make him nervous, cause him to stutter and blush. He is adorable with his cheeks pink and flushed. It makes me wonder what he would look like after a climax, which invariably leads to my stalking from the shop to cool myself down for a few hours. He often calls after me, confused, but I say nothing. After all, the only thing I could think to tell him in those moments is that I would love nothing more than to take him into the backroom and ravish him.

His eyes are unintentionally seductive. Wide, unassuming, the color of melted chocolate. I could drown in them. I could lose myself in their depths.

I long to nibble on his lips, to sample his flavor. His mouth keeps me enraptured. The lower lip is full, the upper slightly smaller, but perfectly shaped. I try to imagine how he would taste. Would he be reminiscent of cinnamon and apples? Would he taste as sweet as he looks?

"Aya! Aya, you're spilling water all over the place!"

I jerk at the loudness of Ken's voice. Its proximity is dangerously close to my ear and, for a moment, my thoughts are a jumbled mess.

"Aya! The water!"

I blink slowly, glancing downwards. The hose in my hand is pouring a steady stream of water into a pot of ferns that is already overflowing. A puddle has formed around my shoes and my teammates are staring at me as if I have suddenly grown two heads.

I switch the hose off calmly, stepping away from the puddle and moving towards the supply closet for a mop, ignoring Yohji's loud snicker.

How embarrassing, to be caught fantasizing about Ken at work, in the middle of the day. I am sure that Yohji would be laughing outright if he knew what I was thinking.

"Are you all right, Aya-kun?" Omi asks as I begin to clean my mess, keeping my expression carefully blank. "That is so unlike you."

"I'm fine," I reply in clipped tones, forbidding any more questions.

Omi nods as Yohji rolls his eyes.

Damn Yohji. At times I am convinced he can see right through me. Those smoky eyes often contain a look of smugness and I cannot help but wonder what knowledge makes his lips twitch around the corners when he glances in my direction.

He can't possibly know. I have struggled to hide it from everyone, but…but there is definitely something that keeps him amused when he looks at me. It all comes so easy to him. He is cocky, confident in his appearance and his charms. He moves with such elegant grace, hips switching in an arrogant swagger. I wonder how it feels to be so unselfconscious.

"I am leaving in half an hour," Yohji announces as I finish mopping the linoleum floor and cautiously move over its drying surface.

"Why?" I inquire, glaring at him. He is notorious for either leaving early or strolling in partway through his shift, as if he had not a care in the world. I cannot remember the countless times I have had to cover for his irresponsibility.

"I have a date," he drawls.

My jaw clenches as irritation rises within me. "Reschedule."

His smile is mocking. "And leave the lady waiting, Aya? I think not…"

"Who do you expect to cover your shift?" I ask, my voice as icy as possible.

"I can't," Omi puts in before Yohji can turn towards him. "I have a project due on Monday. I work again tomorrow and we have a mission on Sunday. I only have two nights to prepare."

"KenKen," Yohji murmurs silkily as he moves towards the brunet and tosses a careless arm around his shoulders. "What about you? Think you can cover for me just this once?"

Ken snorts. "Just this once my ass. How many times have I heard that line?"

"Someone has to stay to help Aya-kun close," Omi says worriedly. "It should be busy tonight."

Ducking out from under Yohji's arm, Ken moves towards the floral arrangement he had been preparing. "I'll stay…but you owe me, Yohji!"

"Of course, KenKen."

I watch the brunet shake his head as Yohji strolls off towards the backroom, untying his apron with slender fingers.

"I'm sorry, guys," Omi comments, expression full of regret.

"It's okay, Omi!" Ken says cheerfully. "I am sure Aya doesn't mind." He glances towards me. "Ne, Aya?"

I turn away from him without replying. An afternoon alone with Ken in the shop. Whatever god exists is certainly punishing me tonight. The day that I cannot banish the boy from my thoughts, I will be forced to spend completely alone in his company. I restrain a sigh as I carry the mop back to the closet. It is bound to be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shaking out my apron, I flex my shoulders tiredly. The shop had been busier than I expected. It was both a disappointment and a relief. I had not been anticipating a night of listening to Ken's endless chatter as I tried to prevent myself from pinning him against the wall and taking him right then and there. Eventually, he would grow silent due to my lack of response and a thick tension would fill the air. The sort that you could slice with a knife. The kind that stifled. But tonight the flow of customers had been so constant that we barely had time to exchange two words and I was not allowed the opportunity to watch him, as I often did while he was preoccupied with something.

"It was crazy tonight, ne, Aya?" I hear him say from behind me. His voice is tired, but still tinged with its usual good naturedness. "I am glad I have tomorrow off. You do, too, don't you?"

"Yes," I reply as I switch off the light.

"Let's just hope Yohji shows up," he comments and suddenly I feel his body lurch into my back.

I reach out a hand to steady myself as he apologizes. "Sorry, Aya!" he exclaims, voice sheepish. "My eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness and I tripped over something."

I nod, unsure as to whether he can see me or not.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asks as we start up the steps leading to our respective apartments.

"I have no plans."

"Oh, really?" he murmurs at my expressionless reply. "I have a soccer game to go to in the morning, but I still don't have any plans for the evening."

"Hn."

"Ne, Aya," he says as I slow to a stop in front of my door.

I glance at him over my shoulder, arching a brow slightly.

He looks nervous, that lovely blush darkening his cheeks. "Um…I was wondering if we could…that is, if you wouldn't mind…"

"Mind what?" I prod when he trails off, the flush slowly working its way down his throat.

"M-Mind seeing a m-movie with me," he stammers out, wringing his hands lightly.

For a moment, I am too stunned to react.

"But you d-don't have to," he amends, embarrassment clear on his features. He has mistaken my silence for rejection and hurt is rapidly clouding his chocolate eyes. "Um…I think I'd better go-"

"Sure," I say, interrupting as he tries to find a graceful way to back out of the situation.

He blinks up at me, surprise replacing the chagrin on his face. "Sure?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"Oh," he says slowly before understanding dawns and his mouth breaks out into a huge grin. "Oh! Really? What time?"

I shrug with feigned indifference. "It doesn't matter."

"Well, is seven good then?"

"That's fine."

He continues to smile at me even as confusion and some other emotion I cannot identify dance in the depths of those brown orbs. "I…I guess I will see you then," he says as he begins to back away. "Good night, Aya."

I watch him enter his apartment in silence. Inwardly, I am reeling at this sudden turn of events. For a moment, I wonder if this is merely a fantasy I will wake up from at any given second. Perhaps the fact that my thoughts have been lingering around him all day has manifested itself into an illusion. But before his door is completely shut, he flashes me a timid smile and I know instantaneously that this is not a dream.

~~~~~~~~~~

I awoke this morning, trembling and flushed, panting is if I had run a marathon rather than tossed and turned restlessly beneath my white linen sheets. Of all the dreams I have had about Ken-and I have had many about Ken-this one absolutely qualifies as the most sensually carnal.

I dreamt about toning down his honeyed skin with vanilla ice cream and searching his body with my tongue, laving away the sticky-sweet mixture. The image of the thick, white substance trickling over his muscled torso, melting over smooth golden-brown skin, is so luridly erotic that my entire being is filled with an animalistic heat at the very thought of it.

The instant I sat up in bed, I was forced to rush to the shower, turning the spray onto the coldest temperature I could bear and standing under the pulsing spray until my teeth began to chatter. Even so, I exited the bathroom still feeling mildly feverish. The fantasy lingered in my thoughts like a haunting melody.

I have been pacing the apartment since then, unsure of how to bide my time until the hour of seven strikes. I briefly consider visiting Aya-chan, but promptly change my mind. I would not make very good company in my current state of agitation.

Finally, after a bout of nervous cleaning, I settle on the couch and flip open a book I purchased recently. I usually take it on the trips to visit my sister. I often bring her flowers and read to her softly, hoping my voice can pierce through the darkness and enter the world in which the last of her consciousness remains. I have never witnessed even the slightest reaction, though, and I cannot help but wonder if I will ever see her lovely eyes open again.

I sit virtually motionless in the silence of my apartment until the sun begins to set, casting the sky into a burning, orange-red glow. I curse myself for my sudden case of nerves. Who would have thought that, of all people, Ken would be the one to reduce me to this? I feel like a skittish virgin, which I most assuredly am not. However, I have not had that sort of physical contact with another person since the deaths of my parents. Sexual pleasure seemed rather meaningless after that. It wasn't until my most recent fantasies surrounding Ken that I began to remember the feeling of lusting after someone, of craving closeness to another human body.

I would prefer for it to forever remain as it was-me not needing anyone and the others at once trying to press close, while still maintaining their distance. It is all an act, of course. I would like to deny it, but I need the closeness as much as any other person. I think that without them, I might have gone mad long ago.

A sudden knock on my door jars me from my thoughts and I stand, smoothing down my black sweater as I approach the front of my apartment.

Ken is waiting in the hall, hair adorably tousled. He is smiling broadly, dressed in a simple, white t-shirt and blue jeans. "Hey," he greets me somewhat shyly. "I'm a little early. I hope you don't mind. I wound up spending the entire day at the park and I just got in."

I watch him in silence, taking in his appearance at my leisure. The pants are loose throughout the legs, but fit him rather well around the hips and thighs. Underneath the t-shirt, he is all lean muscle and tanned skin. All in all, he makes a totally delicious picture.

"I hope I don't smell like sweat," he continues, nose wrinkling cutely. "For some strange reason, my shower hasn't been working all day. It just makes this really loud clanging noise whenever I try to turn on the water. I think I have to call a plumber."

I lean close to him for a moment, sniffing delicately. He smells like leaves and wind and sunshine. It is a scent that often lingers on his skin after he returns from coaching. I think it is one of the most intoxicating fragrances I have ever encountered.

"You smell fine," I comment lightly as I shift back.

His chocolate eyes are impossibly wide and his face is wearing an expression of stunned surprise. For a moment he fumbles about for something to say before stuttering out, "Th-Thanks."

"Shall we go?" I ask as he continues to stand there and stare at me in confusion.

He jerks slightly at my question, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, as if to clear his thoughts. "Y-Yeah. There's this new action movie I want to see. Do you mind action or would you rather see something else?"

I fight back a wince as I turn to lock the door to my apartment. I would much prefer an artistic film to one that centers around action and adventure, but it has been ages since I have been to the theater and the expression of excitement on Ken's face is too much for me to resist. Besides, I am perfectly willing to sacrifice a night to the inanity of one of those movies if it means I can spend time alone with him, uninterrupted.

"That will be fine."

I tuck my keys into the pocket of my unwrinkled, black pants and turn towards him. For a moment, the smile that greets me freezes me in place. It is at once innocent and unintentionally alluring, filled with child-like enthusiasm and unconscious sensuality. How can one person be a mixture of so many things, so many subtle complexities? At times, I find him almost impossible to comprehend.

"Let's go then!" he says happily. "It starts at eight. We should have plenty of time!"

I nod slowly, following him as he starts down the hall. My eyes drop to his rear almost automatically. Ken's body is walking perfection. The thought of him spread out beneath me on my white linen sheets is utterly mouthwatering. I groan silently as he glances at me over his shoulder. I do not know how much longer I can withstand such temptation. Perhaps I shouldn't have agreed to come out with him tonight…but, even as these words cross my mind, he grins at me once more and I know that I wouldn't have preferred to spend my evening any other way.

~~~~~~~~~

"That was totally awesome!" Ken declares as we exit the theater.

I can only nod my head in agreement, eyeing the glowing expression on his face. As distasteful as I had found the American movie, I find that I cannot disagree with anything he says…not when he looks so delighted, not when his features are shining with happiness. He is like a luminous beacon in the sea of non-descript faces that surround us as we exit the theater. I find it almost impossible to tear my eyes away, but force myself to do so after a few moments as his countenance fades from joy to puzzlement.

"Is something wrong, Aya?" he asks, voice tinged with nervousness.

"No."

"Why…why were you looking at me like that?"

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He is watching me earnestly, his chocolate orbs darkened to the deepest shade of mahogany.

For a moment, I ponder my answer carefully. I have concealed my attraction for so long that the thought of finally being revealed to him fills me with a sudden sense of awkwardness. But, even as I search vainly for a topic to distract him, the words are unconsciously flowing from my lips, "Because you're beautiful."

He blinks at me, stunned, his footsteps coming to an abrupt halt. Another of those adorable blushes has overtaken his tanned skin and he bows his head slightly as he struggles to speak. "B-Beautiful? Y-You think I'm beautiful?"

"Where to now?" I inquire, looking away before the urge to pounce him can overwhelm me. I feel heat rising to my cheeks, unbidden, and cautiously avoid his gaze as he sighs softly.

"Aya," he breathes and I can hear the smile and pleased surprise in his tone. "Do you like ice cream?"

The question is so completely unexpected that my eyes fly back to his face as bewilderment races through me. "What?"

"Do you like ice cream?" he repeats, grinning at me widely. "The place down the street has a new flavor I want to try. It's called 'Triple Chocolate Explosion'. Do you want to go get some?"

"Well, I'm not particularly in the mood for ice cream at the moment," I answer automatically, my mind thinking back to the unopened container I have sitting in my apartment. "But I will accompany you, if you would like some…"

"Great!" Still smiling broadly, he reaches towards me and clasps my hand in his own, loosely enough to allow me to pull away if I so desire, but firmly enough to show that he wants to maintain the contact.

I hesitate for only a fraction of a second before I tighten my fingers around his, permitting him to pull me forward through the crowd.

We walk to the ice cream parlor in silence and I find myself filled with an odd sense of contentment at the sensation of his strong fingers lacing through mine. I would love to do so much more to him, to take him and teach him, to show him the passion I have buried beneath so many layers of ice and reservation…but, in this instant, the unadorned, commonplace action of holding his hand is the most perfect feeling in the world.

When we finally reach the brightly lit establishment, I pause, stilling him before he can reach for the door handle. The small shoppe is flooded with people, including several families with screaming children. I can hear the noise clearly through the glass doors and I find myself hesitant to enter. I would much prefer to stay outside in the relative quiet of the night.

"Mind if I wait for you out here?" I ask softly as he glances at me in inquiry.

"Not at all," he says, releasing my hand with a flitting expression of regret. "Are you sure you don't want anything, Aya?"

"I'm sure."

He pulls open the door and flashes me another smile. "I'll be right back then."

I watch as he weaves easily through the crowd and stands in place at the end of the line. For a moment he peers into the glass case, no doubt searching for his chosen flavor, before the pair of young-looking men in front of him turn towards him and say something that makes him throw his head back and laugh cheerfully.

My eyes narrow as the men begin to laugh with him. One leans towards him, a bit too close for my tastes, and brushes his fingers over Ken's arm, tilting his head to the side coyly. The simple gesture could have ordinarily been taken in a number of ways, but combined with that inviting visage, it screamed clearly of flirtation.

Ken, oblivious as always, does not see what I can and continues to chat with them merrily as the line moves at a sluggish pace. The conversation remains lively and animated as the time drags on and I find myself torn between entering the parlor and glaring down the man who seems to be perpetually finding some small way to touch my Ken or remaining outside where I am and seething silently.

My decision is cinched as the man once more leans overly close to Ken and I am about to step forward when my previous thought stops me in my tracks. Had I just thought of Ken as mine? Had I referred to him mentally as my Ken? When had this revelation come about, this possessiveness? I have no true claim to him. We have done nothing more than hold hands and he knows nothing of the depth of my feelings for him…and yet…yet, the thought of him being mine feels strangely right.

I suppose it must have quietly crept up on me after all these months of yearning. My mind has already appropriated Ken as my possession. All that remains is the act of making it unquestionable, of sealing the claim's validity. He is mine. I need only make him aware of it. And I will…tonight.

~~~~~~~~

Nearly ten minutes later, Ken exits the shoppe followed closely by the duo. They are still laughing and he waves them off happily as they begin to walk in the opposite direction. He turns towards me, holding a cone of milk chocolate colored ice cream, in which appears to be darker chunks of what can only be candy bars and chocolate chips. It looks almost sickeningly sweet.

"That was such a coincidence," Ken is saying merrily. "They just came from the same movie we saw and they were ordering the same flavor of ice cream. The shorter one was so funny. They gave me their phone numbers and asked me to call them so we can go out some night."

"That is a coincidence," I comment mildly, walking beside him as he starts to move in the direction of the park.

He nods, laving slowly at his cone. My fingers curl into fists and I shudder unconsciously, turning my eyes away from his mouth before I can make a fool of myself in public.

We enter the park in silence, him munching happily on his cone and me trying to prevent myself from wrenching him into my arms, tossing that blasted cone aside, and assaulting his mouth with as much eroticism as I could muster. My thoughts dart around desperately until I finally settle on something to say and force the question out, my voice thick, "So will you be calling them?"

"Maybe," he replies, shrugging lightly. "It is getting cold. We should probably head back soon. I'm dying for a shower."

"Hn."

He licks at his ice cream once more and shivers almost imperceptibly.

I find my gaze focused on his tongue. I hunger for nothing more than to kiss him, long and deep. "Do you like the flavor?" I ask slowly.

"Yep!" Suddenly, he glances at me sideways, expression somewhat mischievous. "Want a taste?"

That look is too much of an invitation for me to resist. Before he can so much as blink, I have pulled him hard against my chest and my lips are on his, parted slightly, my tongue seeking entrance.

Blood roars in my ears. Vaguely I hear the sound of his whimper and of the cone hitting the ground with a soft 'squish', but all I can comprehend is the taste of his mouth. His flavor is like everything I have ever imagined and nothing I could possibly have prepared for. He tastes of chocolate, and sunshine, and warm apple cider, and a thousand other things I cannot name. I find myself unable to get enough as I tug him closer, my hands coming up to cradle his face.

I feel him begin to kiss me back somewhat timidly and I groan in my throat, burying my fingers in his chocolate locks and tilting his head to allow me better access. His hands are clutching the material of my sweater and he clings to me weakly, as if for strength, his tongue venturing into my mouth to rub over mine enticingly.

Time slows and it seems like I am lost in the kiss for an eternity…until the sound of approaching footsteps jars me back into reality and I wrench my lips from his, hugging him close as I struggle to catch my breath.

The couple passes us without so much as a glance and I feel Ken brush his lips over the pulse beating frantically beneath the skin of my throat.

"Did you like the taste?" he asks quietly.

I pull back enough to gaze down at his face. His cheeks are flushed pink and a grin is playing around his swollen mouth, but his eyes are filled with shyness and uncertainty.

"It was delicious," I reply honestly, returning his grin with a tiny smile.

His eyes widen and tanned fingers come up to touch my lips in wonder. "Aya…you are stunning when you smile…"

My smile broadens at his hushed, slightly awed tone. "So are you."

His blush deepens and he reaches down to link our hands once more. "We should be getting back…"

I nod silently, curling my fingers around his as we start back towards the Koneko no Sumu Ie, walking quickly to escape the growing chill in the night air.

~~~~~~~~

When we finally pause outside my apartment door, he casts me another timid smile, releasing my hand with reluctance. "I had fun tonight," he says, blushing once more.

I wonder briefly how a skilled assassin can be so quick to blush, but I promptly decide that it doesn't matter. A blushing Ken is a totally captivating sight and it is a completely endearing trait.

"So did I." Tugging him to me gently, I press a soft kiss to his lips. "Good night, Ken."

"Oyasumi nasai, Aya…"

I watch him walk away and enter his apartment before I turn to unlock my door. I had intended to possess him tonight, but I suppose I can be satisfied with the kisses we have shared. It is a start anyway.

I move to my bedroom and shed my clothing, changing into my casual, black silk pajama bottoms, but foregoing the button down shirt. My apartment feels oddly warm and I am contemplating lowering the temperature when I hear a quiet knock on my door.

I feel my brow furrow in confusion. Who would possibly be knocking on my door at this hour?

I pull it open without gazing out through the peephole and cannot hide the expression of surprise that overtakes my features. Ken is standing there, grinning sheepishly, holding a small white bundle.

"Ne, Aya," he says shyly. "I just remembered that my shower is broken. Do you mind if I use yours? I would ask one of the others, but I think Yohji is still out and Omi is already asleep."

Nodding slightly, I step aside, granting him entry into the apartment.

"Arigatou! I'll only be a few minutes."

I make no comment as he disappears down the hall. How many times have I fantasized about this very occurrence? About finding Ken in my bathroom and taking him against the tile, wet and dripping? The very thought makes me feel almost unbearably hot.

Sighing softly, I make my way into the kitchen and fill a glass with water, sipping slowly. It does nothing to reduce the wave of heat that has seemingly overtaken my body, however, and I find my mind wandering to the container of vanilla ice cream sitting unopened in my freezer.

Without thinking, I remove it and grab a spoon, peeling off the top and tossing it aside. I keep my freezer set on a rather mild temperature, so the creamy substance is not frozen completely solid. Almost absently, I bring a spoonful to my mouth, relishing the cold sweetness.

Out of all the flavors of ice cream I have ever tasted, I believe vanilla is my favorite. I cannot explain why. Perhaps it is its simplicity. It is plain, yet sweet without being overbearing. In a way, it reminds me of Ken. He is seemingly simple and artless…and yet he has somehow managed to capture me with his hidden complexities and underlying sweetness.

I am so lost in my thoughts, mindlessly twisting my spoon in the thick, white substance, that it takes me a full minute to realize Ken has left the shower and is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me with open curiosity.

"What made you suddenly start craving ice cream, Aya?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "You should have had some earlier."

My movements halt and my breath hitches in my throat as I slowly take in his appearance. He is wearing nothing more than a large, white towel wrapped loosely around narrow hips. The bronzed muscles of his chest are fully exposed, glistening damply in the bright light from overhead.

I allow my eyes to drift down his lean torso, my grip tightening steadily around the small container in my hand as my pulse seems to slow…then stop completely. The air freezes…time ceases to exist…and suddenly I am on him, shoving him back against the wall, and pressing parted lips to the warm skin of his throat.

I hear him cry out softly as the pile of neatly folded clothing he had been carrying drops from his fingers. The container in my hand tilts slightly and he hisses quietly as some of the melting cream spills onto his chest.

I pull back far enough to watch it trickle slowly over golden skin before my mouth is there, my tongue swiping over the hot flesh, tasting vanilla, droplets of water…and the flavor that can only be described as Ken.

Growling low in my throat, I nip and suck my way down the hard muscles of his abdomen, intentionally tipping the container and allowing more of the sweet, icy-cool substance to drip onto his heated skin.

He whimpers, his breathing suddenly harsh and labored. "Aya…I-uhh…I don't…understand…"

Kissing my way back up his chest, I swirl my tongue around one of his tiny, brown nipples before biting it gently. "What's there to understand?" I ask, nibbling delicately at his chin.

"Um…why…all of a sudden…" He trails off with a curse as the fingers of my free hand begin to toy with the knot holding his towel shut. "Aya…"

"I want you," I answer simply, casting all of my inhibitions and reservations aside.

He starts to protest, but the sound quickly turns into a muffled groan as my fingers manage to undo the knot and the towel slips free. "Kami-sama…mmmm...but…why…now…?"

"I've always wanted you," I reply softly, dipping my fingers into the container and painting his rippling abs with the sticky-wet cream as I trail my hand towards the steadily hardening erection between his muscled thighs. "Don't you want me?"

Ken releases a shuddery breath as my fingers curl around his straining flesh. "God…yes…"

His whispered response is all the encouragement I need.

I have him in my bedroom in seconds, placing the tub of ice cream aside before pushing him gently onto the mattress. His golden brown skin contrasts perfectly with my white linen sheets and I find that I am unable to tear my hands from that searing flesh. I trace my fingers over the lean muscle, savoring the smoothness, before I dip my head to rain kisses over his chest once more.

His hands clutch at me, running over my own skin and leaving a fiery trail in their wake. I feel his fingers impatiently tugging at the waistline of my pants and pause my ministrations long enough to help him shove them down my legs. I am wearing nothing underneath. The contact of his bare flesh against mine is utterly delicious.

My lips find his and I kiss him almost savagely, eating at his luscious mouth, raking my teeth over his full lower lip.

"Aya," he breathes as I tear my mouth from his, burying my lips against the soft skin of his throat.

I reach for the container of ice cream without breaking the contact of our skin. He watches me with wide, chocolate eyes, his cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted.

"What-" His question halts abruptly as I once again tip some of the cold cream onto his stomach. He shivers at the sensation of it melting over his flesh as I lower my mouth to his abdomen, tonguing clean the bronzed muscles.

His eyelids drift closed and he begins to pant softly as I continue my attentions, slowly making my way to the brown curls that surround his manhood. Without warning, I tilt the container and pour a substantial amount of the icy vanilla cream over the pulsing column of golden flesh that is practically begging for my touch.

Before he can so much as react, my mouth is there, sliding over the dripping tip, laving soothingly. He jerks and gasps, his eyes flying open as he shrieks my name.

Bracing one arm over his hips, I lower my head slowly, swallowing his length and sucking hard.

"Ayaaaaaaa…"

He whimpers my name again as my fingers come up to brush against the velvety sac at the base of his cock. He tastes like vanilla ice cream and his own distinctive, exquisite flavor. I moan around the flesh in my mouth as I feel him tugging the crimson locks of my hair almost desperately.

I pull up with deliberate slowness, tightening my lips around his throbbing member until I reach the tip. I pause long enough to rub my tongue gently over the sensitized slit before dipping my head and carefully taking one of his balls into my mouth. His hips buck as I hum softly, fisting his length and pumping firmly even as I press him back down onto the mattress, stilling his movements.

I never thought it would give me so much pleasure to please another person, but the sound of Ken's moans and shaky cries is like music to my ears. His face is flushed deep pink and his head is tossing restlessly on the white pillows, lips parted as he pants softly. The sight makes me almost unbearably hard.

As I nip gently at his inner thighs and continue to pump him mercilessly, I feel him begin to stiffen beneath me. Blindly, I reach for the bottle of lotion I keep on my bedside table. I uncap it quickly and pour a liberal amount onto my fingers.

Ken whimpers as I take his length into my mouth once more. My fingers prod gently beneath his heavy sac and I press one into him slowly, cautiously.

The simple act is enough to cause him to shatter and he pulls my hair almost unmercifully as he comes, swearing unconsciously, "Oh, fuck!"

I keep my lips locked around him, swallowing easily, until his fingers stop wrenching at my hair and his heart rate slows to some semblance of normality.

I sit back quickly, running my tongue over my lips as my eyes meet his. His brown orbs are half-shut and passion-hazed, his expression content. He reaches for me and pulls me down for a hot kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I am sure he is tasting all that I had…vanilla sweetness and sex. My finger is still inside him, surrounded by liquid heat, and I cautiously add another as I nibble at the corner of his mouth.

He tenses beneath me, whimpering quietly. I silence him with my lips, kissing him with months full of restrained passion and yearning. It is enough to distract him from the discomfort, as I knew it would be, and he kisses me back, tongue tangling with mine, as I part my fingers delicately, stretching him carefully.

My free hand comes up to play over his chest, tweaking the small nubs of his nipples, and dancing over the rippling muscles of his abdomen.

"Aya," he whispers against my lips, his fingers trailing slowly over my torso.

I sense him reach for something with his other hand and suddenly feel a glob of cold, sticky wetness at my throat. I realize that it is the vanilla ice cream as his tongue snakes out to lave at my heated skin. I shudder slightly, slowly withdrawing my fingers and adding a third, as he nips at my flesh tenderly.

His fingers close around my almost painfully swollen cock as my own begin to slip in and out of him, preparing him thoroughly. He feels hot and delicious and suddenly nothing less than being inside him is acceptable.

"Are you ready, Ken?" I ask, withdrawing my fingers gently.

His mouth leaves my throat and he nods, biting his lower lip nervously. "Aya…I…I've never…"

"I know," I say quietly as he trails off, a completely enticing blush overcoming his features. I reach out and cup his lovely face, lowering my lips to brush over his lightly. "Just tell me if it's too much…"

"O-Okay…"

I set aside the nearly empty tub of ice cream and reach for the bottle of lotion once more. I coat my length quickly, avoiding the urge to stroke my almost unbearably aroused flesh, and toss the lotion away as I settle between his spread thighs.

He is watching me, chocolate eyes wide. I capture them with mine and silently dare him to look away as I hook his legs over my arms and draw him towards me.

My breath hisses out between my teeth as I feel his puckered entrance touch the tip of my straining erection. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I push forward slowly, resisting the urge to buck into his snug heat.

Ken whimpers softly, reflexive tears springing to his eyes. "A-Aya…"

"It will get better," I assure him, gritting the words out harshly. "Just relax…"

His eyes drift closed as he struggles to follow my instructions. I feel some of the tension leave his body and thrust forward firmly until I am seated to the hilt.

I hear him cry out as I bite my lip hard, drawing blood. He is so incredibly hot and tight, pulsing around my cock like a warm, velvet glove, and it is all I can do to prevent myself from pounding him ferociously into the mattress.

I feel his fingers clutch at my waist, urging me to move silently. I give into his unvoiced plea, withdrawing almost completely before sliding forward deeply. A soft sigh escapes my lips as I repeat the action and feel it slowly become easier, smoother…better.

I tilt his hips upward, positioning him to allow my thrusts better penetration, and feel his body tauten beneath me as my tip brushes that secret spot deep inside him.

He shrieks out my name, his short fingernails digging into the flesh of my waist.

Pressing his thighs back against his chest, I lean forward, kissing him hard, my tongue jabbing into his mouth with possessive brutality. He kisses me back with equal ardor, fingers coming up to bury themselves in my dark red hair.

When I finally pull my lips from his, sucking mouthfuls of air into my lungs, I feel him attack my throat with greedy, biting kisses. His fingers have left my hair and are running up and down my back, pressing me close.

"Harder," he whispers against my skin and I am only too happy to oblige.

I shove into him with hard, jabbing thrusts, a fine sheen of sweat working its way over my body. Beneath us, the bed protests weakly and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filters throughout the room, mingling with our panting breaths.

The feel of Ken is indescribable. I find myself at a loss to do anything more than moan as I feel his hardening member brush against the muscles of my stomach. As I slip a hand between our straining bodies, curling long fingers around him, I know that this is probably the closest I will ever come to heaven.

"Aya!" he shouts as I begin to jerk his erection roughly, pounding into his tightness. He feels so hot and wet against my palm and I tighten my grip around him, pumping fast. "Oh…God…"

It is only moments before I feel a familiar heat building in my pelvis and spreading up my spine. Two more hard thrusts, three more tugs at his pulsing cock, and I feel him explode beneath me, screaming my name on a choking sob.

Wet warmth strikes my abdomen and I watch his face as his body convulses in ecstasy, his constricting passage tightening around me almost painfully. The expression in his melted chocolate eyes is enough to spur my own orgasm and, in seconds, I feel my body stiffen and I am coming so hard it is impossible to distinguish whether the feeling is pleasure or pain.

His name tumbles from my lips like a mantra as a myriad of colors fragment behind my closed eyelids and I collapse on top of him, struggling to catch my breath. In this moment, feeling his arms wrap around me and hold me close, I have found perfection. Before I can think better of it, before I am even aware of what I am saying, the words escape my lips and echo softly in the sudden silence of the room. "I love you."

~~~~~~~~

It's been two months since the first time Ken and I made love. I remember how he stared at me in stunned surprise after my unconscious declaration, his eyes impossibly wide in his face.

For a moment, the world stilled and my breathing stopped. I was unsure of how he would react to my unintentional slip. After all, it was so unlike my usual stoic silence, the usual icy facade under which I hid my emotions. Perhaps the cause had been some sort of subconscious desire to have the words said, to have my feelings known. Whatever it was, I will be eternally grateful.

After Ken recovered from his initial shock, the most beautiful smile I have ever seen overtook his features. It made him so completely radiant that my fingers came up to touch his face, unbidden, just to be sure he was real.

He whispered my name and pulled my head down, kissing me gently. When we parted for air, I saw that he had tears in his eyes. My brow furrowed in concern and I cupped his face tenderly, intending to ask what was wrong.

Before I could speak, he shook his head slightly, and buried his face against my throat. "Aya…I've loved you for so long…but you never saw…you never knew…and I didn't know how to tell you…I was so afraid that you would reject me…"

I could only blink in surprise at his hesitant statement. "You love me?" I questioned slowly, leaning back to peer into his face.

He nodded, blushing adorably.

I could not prevent the smile or the happiness that overcame me. Ken loved me and, even after all we had done, he still found it possible to blush sweetly. It was the most wonderful feeling I have ever experienced.

I am uncertain of what the future holds for both of us. The lives we lead are dangerous and unpredictable. I don't know if I will ever see my sister's eyes open again. But what I am sure of is that I have Ken and he has me. It is more than I would have ever hoped for. Regardless of what has happened, what will happen, we will always have each other…

…and that is enough for me.

~*OWARI*~

The lyrics at the beginning of this fic are from the song, "Vanilla", written by Gackt and translated by Mina-P.

Thanks to Kuroiyousei and Susan for dealing with me while I was struggling to write this!

Thanks for reading! This is my first yaoi lemon ever, so I hope I didn't do too badly.

About Aya…some might think he was OOC, but, as fei told me, who can truly claim to be an expert on him? He could be thinking a number of things under that icy exterior, including this entirely delicious possibility. I'd like to think he isn't permanently in "angst mode". Anyway, even if you did think he was OOC, I hope you enjoyed it anyway! It was intended to be a sweet fic to cheer up someone I would one day like to call a friend.

Please review me! I am still new to writing for WK and I am nervous about posting this, so your opinions would be very much appreciated!

~Midori^_^