Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Weiss Vignettes ❯ Asymmetric ( Chapter 3 )

The scent of vanilla caught him first, artificially sweet over the scent of the gaudy floral arrangement in his fingers. Vanilla and Aya?

What the fuck.

Suspicious green eyes followed Aya's stalking path through the closed shop. Followed the vague sway of Ran's slender hips as he walked away, toward the back, away. Away from the table where Yohji was surrounded by overly-fragrant clippings.

"Where were you?" Yohji's voice carried quietly, low.

Aya's steps paused, and he turned around slowly, eyes narrowed.

Yohji nearly flinched under his gaze. What the fuck was Aya so pissed about.

"That's none of your concern, Yohji." Dark. Aya's voice didn't always fit the daylight.

And Yohji smiled a feral smile then, turning to face him boldly, stretching his body slowly, easing out the strain of bending over the damn table all afternoon. Instead of replying, he abruptly crossed the space between them, his hand reaching out to catch the handle of the bathroom door.

Aya caught the flash in his eyes, the challenge of it, and found himself following Yohji into the small bathroom, a growl in his throat.

"You smell like ice cream." Yohji's voice came from somewhere near his collarbone, as the taller man bent to undress him, broad hands rough, fingernails raking along his stomach before he lifted his shirt away, and dropped it to the tiled floor.

Aya growled once more, but allowed the other man's hands to mold up his chest. He avoided Yohji's gaze now, his eyes turned to the low toilet, the tiny patch of mildew on the tile where the pipe behind it leaked.

Yohji turned Aya's body abruptly, pushed his stomach over the cold, thick porcelain edge of the sink. As the wall gave a faint creak, Aya wondered how much weight it would take to break the whole thing off.

But then Yohji's strong hand was around his cock, long, slender fingers working at the soft, spongy heat of his penis, coaxing the blood to rise in him. His other hand ran up and down Aya's bare back, kneading pale flesh, drawing blood there too, pretty pink blossoms below his skin.

Aya bowed his head, and bucked his hips back, meeting a sudden thrust of Yohji's hips, the impact hard enough to cause them both to grunt. Through two layers of clothes, he could feel the rigid flesh of Yohji's erection grinding at his ass.

Yohji dry-fucked him hard, his groin rubbing a tense, hot friction against Aya's ass, jeans sliding against pretty slacks, until it felt like a fire might rise between them. They gasped a discordant sound that echoed faintly in the small room.

Yohji pumped at Aya's cock mercilessly, silky, thin foreskin sliding hot over Aya's sensitive cockhead, distracting him from ice cream and her eyes.

"I want to fuck you so bad," Yohji's voice was hoarse, a wet sound broken by tense, biting kisses across Aya's shoulder. His breath stirred the short, fine hairs at the back of Aya's neck. "I want to fuck you. Fuck you, Aya."

Aya glared down the drain in the sink.

"Yohji." He growled the man's name like a warning, dragging the word out.

Mine, said Yohji's hands, as he came in his jeans, hips bucking a broken, wild rhythm at the man bent over the cold sink.

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