Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Weiss Vignettes ❯ Sleepwalking ( Chapter 4 )

Yohji woke up with something like damp, warm velvet running along his cheek from the corner of his eye toward his lips.

He mumbled in protest. Not awake. Go away. Fuck off, Aya.

"Just open your mouth," came the quiet reply, the order, as the warm thing touched more insistently, pressed closer to his lips. Hard.

Yohji's eyes opened then. He opened his mouth with a quiet obedience that had nothing to do with the haze of sleep. And Aya smiled with immense satisfaction as he shifted to straddle the man, his cock entering Yohji's mouth as easily as entering the hot, wet channel of a woman.

Or so Aya imagined, in the dark with his eyes closed, and Yohji sucking softly.

He fucked Yohji's mouth very slowly, his knuckles white on the low headboard.

Aya had no shirt on, and all Yohji could see was pale skin that looked gray in the dark room. The skin looked a little shiny, too, the way Aya's skin always did after a nightmare.

And that must have fucking been it, why he was here.

Yohji gripped Aya's thighs through his pajama bottoms, and forced his mouth to work harder. Fuck you, Aya. And your nightmares. And fuck me for letting you get this close.

This close without waking him up.

What was he doing?

Aya growled and started to thrust a little harder, the thick head of his cock jarring against the back of Yohji's throat, cutting off his train off thought with the pounding of his heart. And he worked his tongue, and his lips, and he sucked, and he squeezed Aya's thighs, and he rocked his stiff erection against nothing at all.

And Aya came down his throat, and didn't stop pushing until Yohji wrestled him away, choking down thick, sticky liquid.

They glared in the dark, wild eyes glinting in the thick heat of the room. The window was open, summer darkness stifling. The battlefield of a bed wasn't wide enough, and Yohji's nude, long limbs brushed up against Aya as he broke the hot silence.

"You can't." He exhaled sharply, and started fumbling around in the dark for his cigarettes on the nightstand. "You can't keep doing this."

"Yes I can," Aya dared quietly, gripping the sheets, vaguely resembling a child afraid to step onto the floor. Afraid to leave the bed.

Stubborn.

Aya caught the moist, used flush to Yohji's lips as the other man lit his cigarette with trembling fingers, his features momentarily bathed in the artificially healthy glow of the tiny flame.

Yohji exhaled the first stream of smoke like a sigh, away from Aya, and continued more softly, with a little nod toward the pack on the nightstand.

"Want one?"

comments and criticism welcome

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