Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Yohji Kudou, International Man of Parody ❯ A meeting, an instant attraction and... disco? ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Title: Yohji Kudou, International Man of Parody

Author: Ann

Rating: R. Yaoi, baby, yeah! Foul language, violence, sexual imagery of the m/m variety.

Pairings: It would spoil the fun to tell you; from the title, you can assume Yohji gets some. Male/male situations, though mostly implied. Be adult or be gone.

Notes: Parody of the Austin Powers films and of Weiss Kreuz. Austin Powers characters belong to the very funny Mike Myers, Michael McCullers and New Line Cinema. Weiss Kreuz characters belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss. This is fan fiction, and no profit is made from this endeavor. Parody is a long-standing, protected form of free speech.

## - Indicates telepathic speech

// - Encases song lyrics

Warnings: Bizarre and lame humor. OCC? Of course! Character bashing? Yes, but just in fun... well, mostly. ::snickers:: Character deaths, bad language, bad puns, just... bad.

Feedback: Feedback would be greatly appreciated at Ann89103@lvcm.com.

Archive: Ask and you shall receive.

***

Normally, whenever Yohji Kudou entered a scene, all activity immediately came to a halt as the stunned revelers took in his beauty, his charm, his overwhelming sexiness. Therefore, Yohji expected the same results as he passed through the doors of Purring Kittens, Tokyo's hottest nightclub. As predicted, the crowd raked over Yohji's form with ravenous, lust-filled eyes, each person imagining a night of lurid, sex-drenched escapades with the exciting adventurer. Yohji savored the moment, lost in the swirl of such obvious admiration and desire.

Yohji almost fell to the floor when the crowd turned away, all attention returning to a spotlight fixed to the center of the dancefloor. The music, a frantic wash of pulsing electronica, faded away, only to be replaced by a slower, yet powerful jazz piece, highlighted by soaring, haunting saxophone solos.

Yohji strode through the throng, seeking the source of the crowd's enthrallment. No one, but no one, stole the limelight from Yohji Kudou! Time to show this upstart some *real* Mojo!

Yohji stopped in his tracks as the last of the crowd parted, allowing him to take in the spectacular sight of a sensuous, supple body poured into tight blue jeans and a white tank top. Vivid red hair cascaded down to just below the dancer's shoulders, the mass of silken strands swaying as the body writhed in abandon. Well-toned arms sinuously moved through the air, each movement an erotic tease. And speaking of erotic teases... Yohji's eyes lowered to the jeans, taking in the sway of the tightest, sexiest ass he'd ever seen that wasn't *his*.

Yohji knew the dancer had to be Schuldig, the German agent Omi told him about. His every spy sense tingled, anticipating a night of danger, of excitement, of secrets revealed. Yohji's eyes widened as the dancer started to slowly turn in his direction; what he had suspected moments before was confirmed once he viewed the *front* of those oh-so lucky jeans. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself:

"She's a *man*, baby!"

It was the sound of laughter, mocking yet lighthearted, that drew Yohji's attention, and his gaze slowly lifted, sliding over a nicely muscled chest, past the inviting stretch of neck, stopping only to feast upon an oval face dominated by wide, generous lips and blue-green eyes shining with energy and good cheer.

Yohji decided this turn of events was a very good thing. After all, Yohji prided himself on his flexibility... in *every* aspect of the word.

But first things first: the spitfire Shuldig needed to be reminded of his place in the scheme of things. Yohji Kudou is number one, the man in charge, the main dish in the all-you-can-eat buffet of love. Everything, everyone else pales in comparison.

So, Yohji set to work. He tossed his head back, sending glorious waves of dark golden hair into motion, and planted both hands on his hips. With one slow, carnal swing of those shapely hips, the music magically shifted to a driving disco beat, interspersed with short blazes of guitar riffs.

Yohji was *on*. Every step, every move was primal, a blatant exhibition of energy and lust. Exotic jade eyes, remarkable as they always were, took on an extra shine. His smile, normally warm and inviting, grew brighter, more feral, almost predatory.

The entire crowd fell completely under his spell. How easy it was for him to become the center of attention, the focal point of lust, the fairest one of all!

Yohji's eyes widened as the brazen redhead dared to approach him, stopping mere inches away from him before sending his pliable body gyrating to the pulsating beat. The two men danced, each pushing the other to greater effort, neither willing to give way. Their eyes met, held, neither able to look away. Beads of sweat formed on foreheads, arms, chests as the two men continued to cavort, adding a sheen to already impressive bodies.

Yohji started to sing, his silken voice caressing the song lyrics:

//Tonight... I wanna give it all to you//
//In the darkness there's so much I wanna do//
//And tonight... I wanna lay it at your feet//
//'Cause boy I was made for you, and boy you were made for me//

//I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me//
//And I can't get enough of you, baby, can you get enough of me?//

Various members of the crowd were fainting from over-excitement; others retreated with their partners, or the nearest available body, to release their pent-up sexual urges.

Instead of succumbing to the sensual buildup, Shuldig smirked at Yohji, and took over the song. Using his deeper, slightly nasal tones, he continued:

//Tonight... I wanna see it in your eyes//
//Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild//
//And tonight... we're gonna make it all come true//
//'Cause boy you were made for me, and boy I was made for you//

//I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me//
//And I can't get enough of you, baby, can you get enough of me?//
//I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me//
//And I can't give it all to you, baby, can you give it all to me?//

Both men threw themselves into the moment, the magic:

//I can't get enough...//
//I can't get enough, ohh...//
//I can't get enough...//

The small distance was breached; both bodies meeting in a haze of warm skin, racing breath and wildly beating hearts. Each movement was synchronized, keeping their bodies in constant contact. As the instrumental break in the song continued, both men made their introductions.

"Yohji Kudou."

"Shuldig Pleahzuhs."

Yohji almost choked. "Guh-guh, Guilty Pleasures?"

Another mischievous smirk. "Well, Shuldig does mean 'guilty' in English, but not *all* my pleasures are guilty."

Yohji leered at his partner, "If they are, I may have to *punish* you, Shuldig. But let me ask you... shall we shag now, or shag later?"

Shuldig waved off the comment. "Promises, promises. Business comes first: I have files on the various villains in Schwarz for you to review, and we need a plan to stop Brad Evil's scheme. In other words... we shag later."

Much as Yohji would have loved to bend Schuldig over and take him there and then, he had a world to save. So instead, he broke from the dance, grabbing a handful of his partner's vibrant red locks, leading him towards the exit.

"Smashing, baby! Let's get to work!"

Ignoring the German's vehement protests, Yohji led Schuldig out of the nightclub. Neither man noticed the dangerous figure lurking in a darkened alleyway across the street, nor the mewling kittens surrounding him.

"No more play, my kitties," the man growled, the words heavily laced with an Irish brogue, "it is time to hunt. But I promise ye this... their deaths will hurt Dog!" With those words, Farfarello silently raced after his unsuspecting prey.

***
End part five

Note: "I Was Made for Loving You" by P. Stanley/V. Poncia/D. Child, and can be found on the 1979 Kiss album "Dynasty." Lyrics used without permission.