Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Wednesday ❯ Working Out the Kinks ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Yohji and Aya work on their relationship. Sort of.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.15.2011 | Updated On: 05.17.2011 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.2K | Visits: 492 | Status: Completed
Yohji and Aya work on their relationship. Sort of.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.15.2011 | Updated On: 05.17.2011 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.2K | Visits: 492 | Status: Completed
Notes: Another in the Weekdays series! Please note the rating…it’s not quite as, uh, innocent as the others.
Evil Hentai Slug: Don’t listen, reader. Nothing she writes is innocent.
Wednesday
“Know what I miss?”
Aya didn’t lift his eyes from the book he was reading. He sat silently beside Yohji on the couch, a slight inclination of his head the only sign he was listening.
“Boobs.”
Yohji waited for the glare, but got even less than that. Aya went wordlessly back to his book, eyes once again tracing the words on the page. The blonde sat for a minute in the silence, letting his mind wander aimlessly; it, however, had a habit of coming up with ideas that would get him in trouble.
An image of Aya in lady’s lingerie made him smile, and he rested a moment with the fantasy, all white lace and red hair.
“Hey, Aya…”
No response this time, nothing at all. It could be safer that way.
“Remember the teddy I got—”
“No.”
“But, I—”
“No.”
“I didn’t even ask you yet!”
Aya didn’t say the words out loud, but his eyes were clearly telling Yohji to burn in hell.
So much for that.
~*~
“Can I help you with that?”
Aya ignored him, hefting the large potted palm higher against his body as he continued walking. He sat it down near the window, as if it was a small daisy, purposefully making Yohji feel useless for asking. It was bullshit. Yohji had moved that thing yesterday, and it was fucking heavy.
But if Aya wanted to be that way, fine. Yohji wasn’t going to let it ruin his mood. Besides, they had all afternoon to work together, lots of time to really fight.
“Oh, baby, you’re so strong,” Yohji cooed as he leaned over the counter to brush a hand down Aya’s bicep. He was joking, deliberately poking a hole in Aya’s masculine display, pissing him off more by buying into it that if he had tried to knock the man down and dress him in a skirt. But still, something tightened low in Yohji’s stomach as he felt tense, hard muscle shift under his fingers, experiencing a genuine appreciation of just how strong Aya really was.
The redhead shrugged him off forcefully, stalking away to finish shifting the plants into the early afternoon sun. Yohji might have helped; there were roses that needed to be taken back to the greenhouse, and some of the trees really were too heavy for one person. But he sat on his stool behind the register, content to watch Aya.
The younger man ignored him. Yohji didn’t mind. Aya was a gorgeous distraction whether he was paying attention or not. There was the way his pale skin lit in the sunlight that filled the shop, and the way his face could be caught in half shadow, just so, when he turned his back to the large window, the shift of illumination accenting the delicacy of his feature.
And, of course, there was his body. Aya didn’t have the slightest idea how to dress it, but Yohji still enjoyed the occasional moment when those loose jeans pulled taught over his temptingly curved backside. Today Aya had on a t-shirt, too, black and short-sleeved, with some band name written across the front in blue. While it covered his stomach and met the top of the jeans too easily, it dipped just a little low at the neck, exposing a flash of collar bone when Aya leaned forward, and then there were his arms. Long and thin and pale, deceptively fragile until a person looked closer. Muscle shifted just under soft skin, Aya’s forearms and biceps well developed if not overly big. Yes, Aya was strong.
It would be nice, though, if he’d let Yohji do something for him every once in a while. Didn’t the blonde deserve it? Aya wouldn’t so much as let Yohji move a tree, let alone do something as horrible as helping him on with his coat.
Chivalry was dead between the two of them, because Aya had killed it. That sucked. Yohji didn’t want to force Aya to be the woman or any of that kind of shit; he loved that Aya was tough and independent and goddamn dangerous, but he liked to do those little things to show he cared. Or have Aya do those things for him.
Yeah, right, he scoffed at the fleeting idea; Aya would cut his own hand off before doing something overtly nice for Yohji. Sometimes, not a lot, but every once in a while, the blonde couldn’t help but wonder why they were together at all. But then he would look at Aya and everything would come together for him.
Aya was…Aya.
~*~
She was a knockout. Legs a mile long even without the black stilettos, stocking flowing up over curving thighs, and an ass that was begging to be smacked, tucked into an almost indecent miniskirt. She might have been going for professional, with that belted gray jacket, pulled tight at her thin waist, but the expanse of skin between its open lapels, the curve of her cleavage and, yes, more than a hint of her lacey, black bra made him doubt any office would approve of Miss Mirasaki.
Yohji approved.
It was late in the day and the rush of girls had finally departed, leaving him time to linger over this far more attractive customer. They laughed and giggled at his advances, but Mirasaki’s blush was too staged to be genuine, and she recovered quickly, meeting his flirting with teasing comments that barely concealed the promise of fulfillment if he would just press a little harder.
He didn’t.
They walked around the shop together, her long fingers resting in the crook of his arm and her plush hip brushing his own as he talked about the beauty of flowers, stopping just short of comparing them to her. The suggestion was there, and she was quick to ask if he handled a lot of them, flowers, of course.
She listened to his appraisal of several types of blooms, and followed his suggestion by choosing the lilies. They weren’t in season, but several beautiful blooms had recently come out of their greenhouse.
As he sat down at the worktable to wrap them, Mirasaki leaned across it. Yohji wasn’t sure how it happened, but her gentle laugh alerted him to the fact that he had been staring, and not at her face. He looked there now, and the slight purse of painted lips spoke of amusement; there was a twinge of embarrassment at being caught staring so long down her shirt, but Mirasaki had no qualms about putting her goods on display.
Once the lilies were tied up and resting near the register, and once he had handed over her change with just the barest brushes of his hand, she scribbled her number down on the back of her receipt and pressed it into his palm. Then with a smile, she and her pretty ass were gone.
Green eyes lingered on the door, then Yohji shook his head. Crumpling the receipt, he tossed it towards the small trashcan under the register. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor. About to reach for it, Yohji jerked back in shock when a pale hand got there first. He watched as Aya, his face blank, picked up the paper and dropped it into the trash.
How long had the man been watching?
“You liked her,” he stated it like a scientific fact, not meeting Yohji’s eyes. There was no emotion in his voice, but his brows were drawn in thought.
“Nah,” Yohji dismissed, not about to risk anything for a pretty pair of legs. “Just a girl.”
“Hm,” Aya replied, more to himself than to Yohji. Then he wandered off, not waiting even long enough to dole out punishment for his lover’s trespass.
The whole exchange left Yohji on edge.
~*~
“Hey, come down for dinner,” Yohji directed, poking his head through the open door of Aya’s room.
The redhead looked up at him, unconsciously adorable in his thin-framed reading glasses. Something was slightly off, though, and it took Yohji a second to realize Aya didn’t have on his reading face, a slightly relaxed, slightly distant expression. Aya was still thinking, and that did not bode well for Yohji. Damn.
“Dinner,” he tried again when Aya made no reply.
Eartails shifted, just a little, as Aya shook his head. No.
Yohji took a deep breath and wondered if it was worth the effort to coax his thin lover into eating. Aya had more than one annoying habit, but skipping meals was right on the top of Yohji’s list. How the man could stay so damned fit with so little was beyond him, though, despite the fact that Aya was more than skinny, Yohji had recently began to develop a theory that involved a secret junk food addiction.
“Please?”
“What?” Aya asked, surprised, like Yohji had just revealed he was wearing a wire. Manners kind of got lost between them.
“Please come to dinner.”
“Okay,” he replied.
Yohji couldn’t help but smile as he leaned in the doorway watching Aya put away his book and glasses. Any little victory was sweet.
“I’ve got some ice cream for dessert, if Omi didn’t eat it all,” he told the other. Aya nodded, and Yohji barely contained a smirk as he added, “It’s cookie dough.”
Another of those surprised looks, not so much an expression of the face as a slight widening of eyes. It had taken months of careful observation, what felt like hundreds of brutal punishments, and even the odd embarrassment, but Yohji was starting to learn the subtleties of Aya’s moods.
Still, the man managed to surprise the hell out of him.
“Thank you,” Aya said quietly as he brushed by him, hand lingering, just a second, on Yohji’s bare stomach. No accident.
Somehow his mouth formed, “You’re welcome,” without the help of his brain which was deeply engaged in thanking the gods he had worn a crop top and promising to use all his manners every day if it led to Aya touching him. It was just a simple brush, but it was on purpose and it was Aya, and any skin on skin contact made Yohji think of sex. Oh gods, he wanted sex. Forget dinner; they should get naked and do it right there on Aya’s bed.
Thankfully, he had learned, mostly, to keep these thoughts inside his head. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Yohji turned to follow Aya, trying to convince certain parts of his body to keep their cool until after they had eaten.
~*~
Omi had indeed been into the ice cream, but there was still enough for Yohji to offer Aya seconds. Ken and the ice cream thief had gone into the living room to watch some music program, and Yohji leaned against the cabinets, watching, captivated, as upon finishing the bowl, the redhead licked the spoon.
No, Aya shook his head, answering Yohji’s dazed question. It was a pity, because the blonde could spend all day watching him eat. He wondered if he could sneak the remainder of the ice cream out of the kitchen, if Omi would notice its disappearance before Yohji managed to get Aya to lick it off of him. The flavor could be more romantic (strawberry, maybe), but if Aya was willing—
And Aya was looking at him. Yohji almost blushed, managing to channel the feeling it into a lazy, guilty smile. Purple eyes narrowed, but Aya, surprisingly, shook off the glare, reaching around Yohji to put his bowl into the sink.
“Help me with the dishes?” Yohji asked lightly, resting one hip against the sink. Aya actually seemed to consider it, then nodded, just a tiny dip of his chin. Yohji wasn’t sure it was an affirmative until the younger man picked up a dish towel with obvious intention of drying whatever the blonde had managed to wash. So far that was nothing, and after being glared into action, Yohji hurried to finish off the waiting dishes. There weren’t many, Aya’s many rules of housekeeping preventing the buildup of anything much in the sink. A cup might pass inspection, but anything bigger than a saucer was worthy of a good bitch session.
Somehow they worked in silence, each in their own thoughts. What the redhead was dwelling on, Yohji wouldn’t hazard to guess, but Aya’s brows were unconsciously starting to creep together again, suggesting it wasn’t anything particularly pleasant.
Placing the last plate into the cabinet with a small click, Aya dried his hands and hung the towel on the handle of the oven. Before he could turn around, Yohji snagged him around the waist and drew Aya back into his arm. The swordsman was surprisingly warm and still, simply resting his hands over the larger, tanned ones laced over his stomach. He tilted his head as Yohji’s lips brushed over his ear.
Oh, this was heaven, Yohji decided. A pliable, content Aya in his arms and not a damn mission in sight. He didn’t think that too long, because the universe had a way of fucking things up when it figured out Yohji Kudou was too happy.
So he thought about Aya instead, leaning in to kiss the pale neck before licking along the bit of exposed collar bone.
“Upstairs?”
~*~
Aya was in a good mood. How could he not be? Propped against the headboard of Yohji’s large bed, he curled his naked body forward, hands tangling tightly in wavy blonde hair as Yohji bent between his spread legs, lips sliding wetly over his straining cock.
Aya gasped, fingers tightening. Yohji paused, pulled back to run his tongue gently around the tip of Aya’s erection, savoring the first bit of precum that had gathered in the slit. Aya’s body jerked and his breath caught again. Smiling, Yohji moved backwards, his hands on Aya’s hips, coaxing him to lay down on the bed.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning over Aya lean body, letting his own hard cock rub over one milky thigh. He tipped his forward head to watch it as he shifted, enjoying the contrast of his own flushed length against Aya’s pale skin, so close to the redhead’s own begging cock.
“Fuck me,” Aya asked or ordered, Yohji wasn’t sure and he really didn’t care.
“Yeah,” he replied, continuing to rub against Aya’s leg as he dropped to his elbows, one of either side of Aya’s head, leaning close to nuzzle damp, red hair.
“Yohji,” Aya complained. His hand was back in Yohji’s hair, tugging now to make his point, not nearly as insistent as his dick, pressing against Yohji’s stomach. “Now.”
“Enjoy the ride, baby,” he suggested, raising his head to meet Aya’s eyes. And stopped.
Aya shouldn’t look that way. Almost everything was right; his cheeks were flushed, his hair starting to curl and stick to his skin. His eyes were wide, but not so darkened by lust. He was worried. Why was Aya worried?
“What’s the matter?”
Aya shook his head, no. Nothing. A swift dismissal that was completely negated when Aya lowered his gaze, effectively hiding behind the ragged fall of bangs. He was starting to catch on, realizing the Yohji was beginning to read him.
Yohji wanted to give it up. He wanted to forget that look and fuck Aya into the mattress.
But he couldn’t.
With their heated bodies still pressed together, he reached up to brush Aya’s hair away, meeting with a glare as he silently requested an answer.
“Nothing,” Aya finally huffed, shoving away the hand that was lingering in his hair. “Are we going to do this or not?”
“Calm down,” Yohji returned, refusing to be led into an argument. It wasn’t easy; the least bit revealed weakness and Aya was ready to bolt. Yohji knew he wanted to run. It was written in every line of his body; Yohji actually felt the muscles tensing beneath him and could only hope he wasn’t about to be thrown to the floor.
“Get off me,” Aya said, definitely an order this time.
“Okay,” he agreed, not moving. “I will, if that’s what you want, but wait a minute. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
“Bullshit.R 21;
He waited, ignoring the glare and trying to look at Aya with open honesty.
“I love you,” he tried, risking a gentle kiss to Aya’s jaw.
“Stop it,” Aya tried to pull away, but it was half-hearted.
“You’re freaking me out, Aya. What’s the matter? We usually don’t fight in the middle of sex.”
Before and after, yes, but they didn’t usually argue while getting it on. Of course, Yohji usually knew better than try to investigate the emotional state of his assassin lover in the midst of the action.
“It’s nothing,” Aya insisted, turning his head away. His long, gold earring dangled against his neck as he looked at the wall.
“If you tell me, I’ll leave you alone.”
Those, apparently, were not the right words. Aya actually flinched; it only lasted a second before he closed his eyes, but Yohji had seen it. What the fuck was that about?
“Please.”
He was trying his best to be patient, but Aya had picked a hell of a time for an emotional revelation. And Yohji had to be careful. This didn’t happen often, ever, and if he cut Aya off, it might never happen again. And if he came against Aya’s thigh, he’d probably ruin the moment.
“Do you?”
“What?” he asked, confused. Aya still wasn’t looking at him.
“Enjoy it? Sex? With…with me?”
Stupid question. Yohji, thankfully, did not say that out loud. Instead, he kissed Aya’s face again, gently.
“Yes,” he answered simply. “You’re a good lay, baby.”
The attempt to lighten the mood didn’t exactly work, but the pet name did make Aya look at him. When the man forgot to glare, though, Yohji got the feeling that they might have to continue the discussion.
“Seriously, Aya, you know I do.”
Thinking face again. So much thinking. What was going on in Aya’s head?
With a sigh, Yohji climbed off the younger man. Taking hold of Aya’s arms, he lifted the redhead up and settled him into his lap so that they faced each other, Aya’s knees on either side of Yohji’s legs. Pale arms wrapped around his neck, and Aya rested his head against a bony shoulder. It was nice to have him so close, but the timing could have been better.
“What’s wrong?” Yohji asked again.
“Nothing,” Aya replied, softer now, “I think…no, nothing.”
Aya and talking, never much of a good combination. For all his frigid, silent superiority, Aya could get adorably flustered at having to put his thoughts into words. No, that wasn’t quite it. Certain, direct thoughts were easily expressed, on mission, in the shop, anywhere Yohji happened to be smoking, Aya gave orders and laid out plans with the best of them. It was when he tried (not that he did very often) to talk about what he was feeling that things went to hell for him.
“Nothing nothing?” Yohji tried with a smile, nudging Aya’s cheek with his nose as he rested his arms around the thin body on his lap. Aya felt so good.
More silence, then Aya looked up, meeting his eyes.
For a second, Yohji wondered if the redhead was going to break up with him. The thought reached his cock, finally informing the dripping organ that there was something big in the works and Yohji’s brain needed a bit of the blood it was hoarding. Aya, he noted with a quick look between them, was still half-hard, but he didn’t know exactly how to interpret that.
“I,” Aya started, stopped, swallowed. “You liked that woman.”
“I told you I didn’t,” Yohji returned, instantly exasperated that this whole thing was over some chick he didn’t even grope. A touch of Aya’s hand over his shoulder derailed the imminent anger.
“You kept looking at her…and you said…you miss things.”
Purple eyes stayed resolutely on his own.
“Well, shit, I don’t know. I mean, I guess, but it’s better with you. You know?”
“Yohji,” Aya said very seriously. He stopped again, more in decision this time than hesitation His hands moved, slipping under Yohji’s hair to cup his face. “There’re lots of things I’ll do for you. I’ll use the things you hide in the bottom drawer, I’ll dress in leather or silk or PVC or even the damn cat ears you keep talking about. I’ll wear a collar and leash, but I will never, never put on women’s clothes. I’m not a girl, and if that’s a problem, you need to decide right now.”
That was a fuck of a speech, especially for Aya, and Yohji was sure he should be dwelling on insecurity or sexuality, but all his mind could do was grab the words ‘leash’ and ‘collar’ and run in excited little circles.
And his brain was suddenly at a loss for blood again. Think! he demanded. Cat ears! it replied.
“Uh…”
“Is it?” Aya asked.
“What?”
“Yohji!” he demanded, “Is it a problem?”
“No. Fuck, no, Aya. I don’t want any women.”
Aya’s hands loosened, slid back to tangle in his hair as he brought their faces close together, close enough so they were breathing the same air.
“What do you want?” Aya asked, lips just brushing Yohji’s as he spoke.
“You.”
“That’s all?”
“You mentioned cat ears?”
Who could ask for any more than the tiny smile on Aya’s lips?
~*~
“Here.”
Aya eyed the box with suspicion.
“It’s not a bomb,” Yohji promised.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” the redhead returned, taking the package from him. Gently he removed the white bow, setting it beside him on the bed, and began to pick at the white wrapping paper with more patience than he ever had with his lover.
By the time the box slid free, Yohji was nervous; he couldn’t stand the suspense. With skill and speed few knew he possesed, he snagged the lid of the box and pulled it off with a flourish.
“Ta da!”
“Kudou…”
“Eh, no, see, they’re black and everything. Very badass.”
“Cat ears are not ‘badass.’”
“Maybe not on most people,” Yohji admitted, reaching across Aya’s arm to work the ears free of the packaging. Carefully, a little leery of getting punched, he settled them on Aya’s hair. The younger man’s expression was for a moment unreadable, then it gave way to a kind of indulgent inquisition.
“On you,” Yohji pronounced, “totally hardcore.”
“Shut up.”
“Shut up and kiss you?”
“Please.”
~end~
Not es: Please review for more days and more cat ears!
Converting /tmp/phpe6J48k to /dev/stdout
Evil Hentai Slug: Don’t listen, reader. Nothing she writes is innocent.
Wednesday
“Know what I miss?”
Aya didn’t lift his eyes from the book he was reading. He sat silently beside Yohji on the couch, a slight inclination of his head the only sign he was listening.
“Boobs.”
Yohji waited for the glare, but got even less than that. Aya went wordlessly back to his book, eyes once again tracing the words on the page. The blonde sat for a minute in the silence, letting his mind wander aimlessly; it, however, had a habit of coming up with ideas that would get him in trouble.
An image of Aya in lady’s lingerie made him smile, and he rested a moment with the fantasy, all white lace and red hair.
“Hey, Aya…”
No response this time, nothing at all. It could be safer that way.
“Remember the teddy I got—”
“No.”
“But, I—”
“No.”
“I didn’t even ask you yet!”
Aya didn’t say the words out loud, but his eyes were clearly telling Yohji to burn in hell.
So much for that.
~*~
“Can I help you with that?”
Aya ignored him, hefting the large potted palm higher against his body as he continued walking. He sat it down near the window, as if it was a small daisy, purposefully making Yohji feel useless for asking. It was bullshit. Yohji had moved that thing yesterday, and it was fucking heavy.
But if Aya wanted to be that way, fine. Yohji wasn’t going to let it ruin his mood. Besides, they had all afternoon to work together, lots of time to really fight.
“Oh, baby, you’re so strong,” Yohji cooed as he leaned over the counter to brush a hand down Aya’s bicep. He was joking, deliberately poking a hole in Aya’s masculine display, pissing him off more by buying into it that if he had tried to knock the man down and dress him in a skirt. But still, something tightened low in Yohji’s stomach as he felt tense, hard muscle shift under his fingers, experiencing a genuine appreciation of just how strong Aya really was.
The redhead shrugged him off forcefully, stalking away to finish shifting the plants into the early afternoon sun. Yohji might have helped; there were roses that needed to be taken back to the greenhouse, and some of the trees really were too heavy for one person. But he sat on his stool behind the register, content to watch Aya.
The younger man ignored him. Yohji didn’t mind. Aya was a gorgeous distraction whether he was paying attention or not. There was the way his pale skin lit in the sunlight that filled the shop, and the way his face could be caught in half shadow, just so, when he turned his back to the large window, the shift of illumination accenting the delicacy of his feature.
And, of course, there was his body. Aya didn’t have the slightest idea how to dress it, but Yohji still enjoyed the occasional moment when those loose jeans pulled taught over his temptingly curved backside. Today Aya had on a t-shirt, too, black and short-sleeved, with some band name written across the front in blue. While it covered his stomach and met the top of the jeans too easily, it dipped just a little low at the neck, exposing a flash of collar bone when Aya leaned forward, and then there were his arms. Long and thin and pale, deceptively fragile until a person looked closer. Muscle shifted just under soft skin, Aya’s forearms and biceps well developed if not overly big. Yes, Aya was strong.
It would be nice, though, if he’d let Yohji do something for him every once in a while. Didn’t the blonde deserve it? Aya wouldn’t so much as let Yohji move a tree, let alone do something as horrible as helping him on with his coat.
Chivalry was dead between the two of them, because Aya had killed it. That sucked. Yohji didn’t want to force Aya to be the woman or any of that kind of shit; he loved that Aya was tough and independent and goddamn dangerous, but he liked to do those little things to show he cared. Or have Aya do those things for him.
Yeah, right, he scoffed at the fleeting idea; Aya would cut his own hand off before doing something overtly nice for Yohji. Sometimes, not a lot, but every once in a while, the blonde couldn’t help but wonder why they were together at all. But then he would look at Aya and everything would come together for him.
Aya was…Aya.
~*~
She was a knockout. Legs a mile long even without the black stilettos, stocking flowing up over curving thighs, and an ass that was begging to be smacked, tucked into an almost indecent miniskirt. She might have been going for professional, with that belted gray jacket, pulled tight at her thin waist, but the expanse of skin between its open lapels, the curve of her cleavage and, yes, more than a hint of her lacey, black bra made him doubt any office would approve of Miss Mirasaki.
Yohji approved.
It was late in the day and the rush of girls had finally departed, leaving him time to linger over this far more attractive customer. They laughed and giggled at his advances, but Mirasaki’s blush was too staged to be genuine, and she recovered quickly, meeting his flirting with teasing comments that barely concealed the promise of fulfillment if he would just press a little harder.
He didn’t.
They walked around the shop together, her long fingers resting in the crook of his arm and her plush hip brushing his own as he talked about the beauty of flowers, stopping just short of comparing them to her. The suggestion was there, and she was quick to ask if he handled a lot of them, flowers, of course.
She listened to his appraisal of several types of blooms, and followed his suggestion by choosing the lilies. They weren’t in season, but several beautiful blooms had recently come out of their greenhouse.
As he sat down at the worktable to wrap them, Mirasaki leaned across it. Yohji wasn’t sure how it happened, but her gentle laugh alerted him to the fact that he had been staring, and not at her face. He looked there now, and the slight purse of painted lips spoke of amusement; there was a twinge of embarrassment at being caught staring so long down her shirt, but Mirasaki had no qualms about putting her goods on display.
Once the lilies were tied up and resting near the register, and once he had handed over her change with just the barest brushes of his hand, she scribbled her number down on the back of her receipt and pressed it into his palm. Then with a smile, she and her pretty ass were gone.
Green eyes lingered on the door, then Yohji shook his head. Crumpling the receipt, he tossed it towards the small trashcan under the register. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor. About to reach for it, Yohji jerked back in shock when a pale hand got there first. He watched as Aya, his face blank, picked up the paper and dropped it into the trash.
How long had the man been watching?
“You liked her,” he stated it like a scientific fact, not meeting Yohji’s eyes. There was no emotion in his voice, but his brows were drawn in thought.
“Nah,” Yohji dismissed, not about to risk anything for a pretty pair of legs. “Just a girl.”
“Hm,” Aya replied, more to himself than to Yohji. Then he wandered off, not waiting even long enough to dole out punishment for his lover’s trespass.
The whole exchange left Yohji on edge.
~*~
“Hey, come down for dinner,” Yohji directed, poking his head through the open door of Aya’s room.
The redhead looked up at him, unconsciously adorable in his thin-framed reading glasses. Something was slightly off, though, and it took Yohji a second to realize Aya didn’t have on his reading face, a slightly relaxed, slightly distant expression. Aya was still thinking, and that did not bode well for Yohji. Damn.
“Dinner,” he tried again when Aya made no reply.
Eartails shifted, just a little, as Aya shook his head. No.
Yohji took a deep breath and wondered if it was worth the effort to coax his thin lover into eating. Aya had more than one annoying habit, but skipping meals was right on the top of Yohji’s list. How the man could stay so damned fit with so little was beyond him, though, despite the fact that Aya was more than skinny, Yohji had recently began to develop a theory that involved a secret junk food addiction.
“Please?”
“What?” Aya asked, surprised, like Yohji had just revealed he was wearing a wire. Manners kind of got lost between them.
“Please come to dinner.”
“Okay,” he replied.
Yohji couldn’t help but smile as he leaned in the doorway watching Aya put away his book and glasses. Any little victory was sweet.
“I’ve got some ice cream for dessert, if Omi didn’t eat it all,” he told the other. Aya nodded, and Yohji barely contained a smirk as he added, “It’s cookie dough.”
Another of those surprised looks, not so much an expression of the face as a slight widening of eyes. It had taken months of careful observation, what felt like hundreds of brutal punishments, and even the odd embarrassment, but Yohji was starting to learn the subtleties of Aya’s moods.
Still, the man managed to surprise the hell out of him.
“Thank you,” Aya said quietly as he brushed by him, hand lingering, just a second, on Yohji’s bare stomach. No accident.
Somehow his mouth formed, “You’re welcome,” without the help of his brain which was deeply engaged in thanking the gods he had worn a crop top and promising to use all his manners every day if it led to Aya touching him. It was just a simple brush, but it was on purpose and it was Aya, and any skin on skin contact made Yohji think of sex. Oh gods, he wanted sex. Forget dinner; they should get naked and do it right there on Aya’s bed.
Thankfully, he had learned, mostly, to keep these thoughts inside his head. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Yohji turned to follow Aya, trying to convince certain parts of his body to keep their cool until after they had eaten.
~*~
Omi had indeed been into the ice cream, but there was still enough for Yohji to offer Aya seconds. Ken and the ice cream thief had gone into the living room to watch some music program, and Yohji leaned against the cabinets, watching, captivated, as upon finishing the bowl, the redhead licked the spoon.
No, Aya shook his head, answering Yohji’s dazed question. It was a pity, because the blonde could spend all day watching him eat. He wondered if he could sneak the remainder of the ice cream out of the kitchen, if Omi would notice its disappearance before Yohji managed to get Aya to lick it off of him. The flavor could be more romantic (strawberry, maybe), but if Aya was willing—
And Aya was looking at him. Yohji almost blushed, managing to channel the feeling it into a lazy, guilty smile. Purple eyes narrowed, but Aya, surprisingly, shook off the glare, reaching around Yohji to put his bowl into the sink.
“Help me with the dishes?” Yohji asked lightly, resting one hip against the sink. Aya actually seemed to consider it, then nodded, just a tiny dip of his chin. Yohji wasn’t sure it was an affirmative until the younger man picked up a dish towel with obvious intention of drying whatever the blonde had managed to wash. So far that was nothing, and after being glared into action, Yohji hurried to finish off the waiting dishes. There weren’t many, Aya’s many rules of housekeeping preventing the buildup of anything much in the sink. A cup might pass inspection, but anything bigger than a saucer was worthy of a good bitch session.
Somehow they worked in silence, each in their own thoughts. What the redhead was dwelling on, Yohji wouldn’t hazard to guess, but Aya’s brows were unconsciously starting to creep together again, suggesting it wasn’t anything particularly pleasant.
Placing the last plate into the cabinet with a small click, Aya dried his hands and hung the towel on the handle of the oven. Before he could turn around, Yohji snagged him around the waist and drew Aya back into his arm. The swordsman was surprisingly warm and still, simply resting his hands over the larger, tanned ones laced over his stomach. He tilted his head as Yohji’s lips brushed over his ear.
Oh, this was heaven, Yohji decided. A pliable, content Aya in his arms and not a damn mission in sight. He didn’t think that too long, because the universe had a way of fucking things up when it figured out Yohji Kudou was too happy.
So he thought about Aya instead, leaning in to kiss the pale neck before licking along the bit of exposed collar bone.
“Upstairs?”
~*~
Aya was in a good mood. How could he not be? Propped against the headboard of Yohji’s large bed, he curled his naked body forward, hands tangling tightly in wavy blonde hair as Yohji bent between his spread legs, lips sliding wetly over his straining cock.
Aya gasped, fingers tightening. Yohji paused, pulled back to run his tongue gently around the tip of Aya’s erection, savoring the first bit of precum that had gathered in the slit. Aya’s body jerked and his breath caught again. Smiling, Yohji moved backwards, his hands on Aya’s hips, coaxing him to lay down on the bed.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning over Aya lean body, letting his own hard cock rub over one milky thigh. He tipped his forward head to watch it as he shifted, enjoying the contrast of his own flushed length against Aya’s pale skin, so close to the redhead’s own begging cock.
“Fuck me,” Aya asked or ordered, Yohji wasn’t sure and he really didn’t care.
“Yeah,” he replied, continuing to rub against Aya’s leg as he dropped to his elbows, one of either side of Aya’s head, leaning close to nuzzle damp, red hair.
“Yohji,” Aya complained. His hand was back in Yohji’s hair, tugging now to make his point, not nearly as insistent as his dick, pressing against Yohji’s stomach. “Now.”
“Enjoy the ride, baby,” he suggested, raising his head to meet Aya’s eyes. And stopped.
Aya shouldn’t look that way. Almost everything was right; his cheeks were flushed, his hair starting to curl and stick to his skin. His eyes were wide, but not so darkened by lust. He was worried. Why was Aya worried?
“What’s the matter?”
Aya shook his head, no. Nothing. A swift dismissal that was completely negated when Aya lowered his gaze, effectively hiding behind the ragged fall of bangs. He was starting to catch on, realizing the Yohji was beginning to read him.
Yohji wanted to give it up. He wanted to forget that look and fuck Aya into the mattress.
But he couldn’t.
With their heated bodies still pressed together, he reached up to brush Aya’s hair away, meeting with a glare as he silently requested an answer.
“Nothing,” Aya finally huffed, shoving away the hand that was lingering in his hair. “Are we going to do this or not?”
“Calm down,” Yohji returned, refusing to be led into an argument. It wasn’t easy; the least bit revealed weakness and Aya was ready to bolt. Yohji knew he wanted to run. It was written in every line of his body; Yohji actually felt the muscles tensing beneath him and could only hope he wasn’t about to be thrown to the floor.
“Get off me,” Aya said, definitely an order this time.
“Okay,” he agreed, not moving. “I will, if that’s what you want, but wait a minute. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
“Bullshit.R 21;
He waited, ignoring the glare and trying to look at Aya with open honesty.
“I love you,” he tried, risking a gentle kiss to Aya’s jaw.
“Stop it,” Aya tried to pull away, but it was half-hearted.
“You’re freaking me out, Aya. What’s the matter? We usually don’t fight in the middle of sex.”
Before and after, yes, but they didn’t usually argue while getting it on. Of course, Yohji usually knew better than try to investigate the emotional state of his assassin lover in the midst of the action.
“It’s nothing,” Aya insisted, turning his head away. His long, gold earring dangled against his neck as he looked at the wall.
“If you tell me, I’ll leave you alone.”
Those, apparently, were not the right words. Aya actually flinched; it only lasted a second before he closed his eyes, but Yohji had seen it. What the fuck was that about?
“Please.”
He was trying his best to be patient, but Aya had picked a hell of a time for an emotional revelation. And Yohji had to be careful. This didn’t happen often, ever, and if he cut Aya off, it might never happen again. And if he came against Aya’s thigh, he’d probably ruin the moment.
“Do you?”
“What?” he asked, confused. Aya still wasn’t looking at him.
“Enjoy it? Sex? With…with me?”
Stupid question. Yohji, thankfully, did not say that out loud. Instead, he kissed Aya’s face again, gently.
“Yes,” he answered simply. “You’re a good lay, baby.”
The attempt to lighten the mood didn’t exactly work, but the pet name did make Aya look at him. When the man forgot to glare, though, Yohji got the feeling that they might have to continue the discussion.
“Seriously, Aya, you know I do.”
Thinking face again. So much thinking. What was going on in Aya’s head?
With a sigh, Yohji climbed off the younger man. Taking hold of Aya’s arms, he lifted the redhead up and settled him into his lap so that they faced each other, Aya’s knees on either side of Yohji’s legs. Pale arms wrapped around his neck, and Aya rested his head against a bony shoulder. It was nice to have him so close, but the timing could have been better.
“What’s wrong?” Yohji asked again.
“Nothing,” Aya replied, softer now, “I think…no, nothing.”
Aya and talking, never much of a good combination. For all his frigid, silent superiority, Aya could get adorably flustered at having to put his thoughts into words. No, that wasn’t quite it. Certain, direct thoughts were easily expressed, on mission, in the shop, anywhere Yohji happened to be smoking, Aya gave orders and laid out plans with the best of them. It was when he tried (not that he did very often) to talk about what he was feeling that things went to hell for him.
“Nothing nothing?” Yohji tried with a smile, nudging Aya’s cheek with his nose as he rested his arms around the thin body on his lap. Aya felt so good.
More silence, then Aya looked up, meeting his eyes.
For a second, Yohji wondered if the redhead was going to break up with him. The thought reached his cock, finally informing the dripping organ that there was something big in the works and Yohji’s brain needed a bit of the blood it was hoarding. Aya, he noted with a quick look between them, was still half-hard, but he didn’t know exactly how to interpret that.
“I,” Aya started, stopped, swallowed. “You liked that woman.”
“I told you I didn’t,” Yohji returned, instantly exasperated that this whole thing was over some chick he didn’t even grope. A touch of Aya’s hand over his shoulder derailed the imminent anger.
“You kept looking at her…and you said…you miss things.”
Purple eyes stayed resolutely on his own.
“Well, shit, I don’t know. I mean, I guess, but it’s better with you. You know?”
“Yohji,” Aya said very seriously. He stopped again, more in decision this time than hesitation His hands moved, slipping under Yohji’s hair to cup his face. “There’re lots of things I’ll do for you. I’ll use the things you hide in the bottom drawer, I’ll dress in leather or silk or PVC or even the damn cat ears you keep talking about. I’ll wear a collar and leash, but I will never, never put on women’s clothes. I’m not a girl, and if that’s a problem, you need to decide right now.”
That was a fuck of a speech, especially for Aya, and Yohji was sure he should be dwelling on insecurity or sexuality, but all his mind could do was grab the words ‘leash’ and ‘collar’ and run in excited little circles.
And his brain was suddenly at a loss for blood again. Think! he demanded. Cat ears! it replied.
“Uh…”
“Is it?” Aya asked.
“What?”
“Yohji!” he demanded, “Is it a problem?”
“No. Fuck, no, Aya. I don’t want any women.”
Aya’s hands loosened, slid back to tangle in his hair as he brought their faces close together, close enough so they were breathing the same air.
“What do you want?” Aya asked, lips just brushing Yohji’s as he spoke.
“You.”
“That’s all?”
“You mentioned cat ears?”
Who could ask for any more than the tiny smile on Aya’s lips?
~*~
“Here.”
Aya eyed the box with suspicion.
“It’s not a bomb,” Yohji promised.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” the redhead returned, taking the package from him. Gently he removed the white bow, setting it beside him on the bed, and began to pick at the white wrapping paper with more patience than he ever had with his lover.
By the time the box slid free, Yohji was nervous; he couldn’t stand the suspense. With skill and speed few knew he possesed, he snagged the lid of the box and pulled it off with a flourish.
“Ta da!”
“Kudou…”
“Eh, no, see, they’re black and everything. Very badass.”
“Cat ears are not ‘badass.’”
“Maybe not on most people,” Yohji admitted, reaching across Aya’s arm to work the ears free of the packaging. Carefully, a little leery of getting punched, he settled them on Aya’s hair. The younger man’s expression was for a moment unreadable, then it gave way to a kind of indulgent inquisition.
“On you,” Yohji pronounced, “totally hardcore.”
“Shut up.”
“Shut up and kiss you?”
“Please.”
~end~
Not es: Please review for more days and more cat ears!
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