Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ You're Joking, Right? ❯ Chapter 3

Note: Remember what I said about violence and rough sex? This one is another workout for Aya. Oh, and while I'm noting -- thanks very much to everyone who's reading, and very very much to everyone who's reviewed. Those reviews mean a lot.

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He had to stop drinking red wine, damn it -- gave him the worst hangovers... Maybe he could just go back to sleep. Sometimes a few more hours could mean the difference between abject misery and mere mortification of the flesh. Adjusting the pillow and burrowing deeper under the soft, warm covers, he turned over onto his side...

 

The pain hit hard and seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Aya took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. What the hell? The worst of it was his ribs, but that eased off when he stopped moving. Making the worst of it his arm... or maybe his head. Each ached with a dull intensity, throbbing to different rhythms and demanding his full attention. Shit, what had happened? Couldn't think...

 

A bit of a dream came back to him, unbidden -- Farfarello whispering in his ear, licking his cheek. That was... Fuck. That was real.

 

Farfarello was back.

 

Aya started replaying the scene in his mind, getting aroused in spite of the nattering aches and pains. He'd waited so long, this time... Now he could smell his lover's scent, feel Farfarello's hands all over him. God, he'd waited so long.

 

Cautiously, Aya hugged his arms against his chest, remembering the feel of Farfarello against him, pinning him... taking him.

 

He'd been half-mad for months, maybe more than half, strung out and closer to falling completely apart than he'd been in years, since everything had, well... blown up. Missing Farfarello felt like losing everything all over again.

 

His relief eclipsed the pain from his injuries, a level of discomfort that was acceptable, and would actually be ignore-able once he dragged himself out of bed and got some decent drugs. In fact, he felt almost light-hearted, despite what lay ahead. He sighed.

 

Exercising extreme care, Aya eased himself into a sitting position. His head felt like an phalanx of dwarves was trying to hammer its way through his left temple, but after he forced his breathing to calm and forced his eyes to open, it was tolerable. He held up his arm, looking at the air splint. He didn't remember putting that on...

 

Oh. Right.

 

Yoji.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

Aya sank back a bit against the pillows and allowed his eyes to squeeze shut again. What the hell had he done?

 

He was distracted from this unpleasant line of thought by the ringing of his cell phone. It was on his nightstand instead of across the room, and he took a moment to be thankful for small mercies as he reached for it. Slowly.

 

Glancing at the caller ID -- it was a local number, but he didn't recognize it -- Aya hit the talk button. “What.”

 

He heard a gentle chuckle that made his heart beat faster. “The thing I love about you most, I think, is how courteous you are in every situation.”

 

Aya smiled in spite of himself. “That's what you called to tell me? At 7 a.m.?”

 

“Meet me in an hour at building 5 on wharf 7, at the east docks.”

 

“Two hours. I have to stop by the hospital and get a cast.”

 

“Done.”

 

Aya turned his phone off and eyed the doorway balefully.

 

 

**********

 

 

Aya had come up with a plan on his way to the hospital. Being able to think on his feet was one of his main strengths. Usually. Unless he turned the thinking over to his dick, which didn't work as well.

 

He could have handled last night better, but it was still salvageable. He hadn't done too badly with Yoj, actually, and he could patch things up with Omi and Ken today.

 

He'd called Manx and told her what had happened, waking her up and thoroughly pissing her off -- which was kind of satisfying. He'd needed to talk her into calling Omi first thing -- before he'd filed his report, before Yoji had gotten up and talked to him about it. She had to explain that Aya had come to Kritiker on his own, so the team wouldn't have to decide whether or not they should protect him. He'd gotten her to agree to say he was being reprimanded. Omi would know what that meant.

 

Aya was counting on a couple of things from this bit of dramatic finesse. He didn't want Yoji to keep asking questions about Kritiker, and he didn't want to make Omi suspicious. Aya was actually pretty sure he could handle Yoji, but if Omi and Ken found out, the whole thing would fall apart. Plus, he figured that Ken would forgive him if -- and only if -- he thought Kritiker had beaten the hell out of him. Not that Aya in any way craved Ken's forgiveness, but the team had to be able to work together.

 

Aya sighed as he got out of the Porsche and walked into building 5, which was essentially a run-down shack. It was dark, and, just out of habit, he stood silently against the wall as his eyes adjusted. Everything was so much more manageable with the drugs he'd picked up at the hospital -- Aya thought of them as the super-secret-agent pain pills, since they were extremely effective but left one's mind surprisingly clear. Count on Kritiker to leave no stone unturned in its quest to milk its agents dry.

 

And now he could see Farfarello, who would extract Kritiker's vengeance. No reason not to mix business with pleasure...

 

Farfarello appeared beside him, rolling across his body and leaning into him, touching at every point from shoulder to groin to thighs. He slipped both arms around him, managing to avoid all injuries, and kissed Aya desperately. He dragged his lips over Aya's face, along his jaw, over the bandage on his neck. He paused there, lips pressed over the center of the wound. It had taken five stitches to close -- nothing by Aya's standards, but still pretty impressive for a hickey.

 

“I can feel the heat,” Farfarello murmured, applying pressure. “All that blood, so close to the surface... I dream about your blood, Red. Dream about tearing you apart with my teeth” -- he nuzzled harder at the bandage -- “and covering myself with you. I wake up soaked in my own come.” A razor blade appeared between his fingers and he cut cleanly through the front of Aya's t-shirt, leaving one long, deep scratch from just below his throat to where his jeans fastened. Drops of blood oozed to the surface, enough to drip slightly over his breastbone, where he'd sliced a little deeper. Moaning softly, Farfarello slid his mouth over Aya's throat and then down that perfect, bloody line.

 

He was on his knees, looking up at Aya feverishly, dark red staining his mouth and jaw.

 

The crazy mother fucker took Aya's breath away.

 

Farfarello took hold of Aya's hands and pulled him down onto the floor, kissed him roughly as he popped open the button of Aya's pants, pulled down the zipper. Aya moaned at the taste of his own blood in his mouth. He felt like his brain was short-circuiting from an overload of pleasure, sharp and dangerous. He came in Farfarello's hand.

 

Aya closed his eyes and just felt -- a rare pleasure. When he started paying attention again, Farfarello was holding him up, rubbing his erection against Aya's cock. It was already beginning to twitch with renewed interest, responding to the stimulation and to the words the other man was whispering into his mouth. They were inaudible, but some part of Aya's unconscious heard and understood.

 

Seeing Aya's eyes open, Farfarello closed his one eye and came against Aya's groin.

 

Not even bothering to tuck his cock back into his pants, Farfarello sat down against the wall and pulled Aya into his lap. He put his arms around Aya's waist and reached into his lap, stroking him. “So,” he whispered into Aya's ear. “I gather we have a situation.”

 

“Who told you?”

 

“Crawford.”

 

Then he didn't have many details. “Yoji's decided...” He gasped as Farfarello's thumb roughly ringed the head of his cock. “...that what we do is too dangerous. He'd decided to... Oh, fuck...” Aya lost track for several moments, swallowed hard. “He'd decided to take me on himself.”

 

Farfarello was completely still for several seconds. “You're joking, right?”

 

“No.” Aya leaned his head back for a kiss, moaned when Farfarello grabbed his hair and pulled hard, holding Aya's head in place while he took control.

 

“And they call me a lunatic. You'd kill him before he got it out of his pants.”

 

Aya smiled. “I'm less lethal when I'm not with you.”

 

“Flatterer.” Farfarello pulled back Aya's balls and squeezed gently, making him moan softly.

 

“He thinks... Oh, yeah, do that again...” Aya's breath hitched. “He thinks I'm going to be in trouble with Kritiker, since I fucked up the mission and I'll have to be off duty.” He gestured distractedly with his broken arm.

 

“I got a little carried away with that,” Farfarello whispered. “It was so good to see you again...”

 

Aya shrugged. “I don't care. But Crawford said I have to stay with this team, and as long as that's the case, I need to do something about Yoji.” He paused, breathing deeply and thinking of nothing but what Farfarello was doing between his legs. “He thinks you're going to kill me.”

 

Farfarello snorted. “They're all fucking idiots. Kritiker is a piss-poor effort, all around.”

 

“Crawford said this team would make it work.”

 

“Doesn't mean it wouldn't work better and faster if you had someone with half a brain at your back. Crawford can't do anything about Kritiker's personnel problems.” Farfarello kissed Aya's cheek. “We're still on, though. He said nothing changes.”

 

Aya nodded.

 

“Right, then. So, Yoji Kudou -- what did you tell him?”

 

Aya sighed and rested his head against Farfarello's shoulder. “More than I should have, probably. He caught me at a bad time.” He sighed again. “He saw my neck and put two and two together. He came up with three, but it's still a problem.”

 

“Just what does he think he's going to do?”

 

“Take your place.”

 

Farfarello snorted. “As if. Again I ask: What did you tell him?”

 

“That Kritiker knows about Schwartz, and about us. He knows I have some kind of deal with Kritiker, but he just thinks they let me have you as long as it doesn't cause trouble, to keep me more compliant or something. Which is fine. I don't want him thinking any deeper into it, though -- he's not stupid.”

 

Aya stared off into the distance for a few moments. `He promised not to tell Ken or Omi about us if I'd tell him what was going on. So I gave him some things to think about, let him jump to his own conclusions. You know, he wants to save people. He decided to save me from Kritiker by getting Omi to lie in his report. I couldn't think clearly last night, but this morning I realized we need to make this look as close-ended as possible. I got Manx to tell Omi I'd, you know, turned myself in, and that I'm being reprimanded. That way, they'll all keep thinking they know how everything works.”

 

Farfarello nodded and licked Aya's neck.

 

“The most important thing is keeping Omi and Ken from finding out. I have to do whatever I can to keep Yoji's mouth shut.”

 

“By any means necessary,” Farfarello murmured, sucking Aya's earlobe.

 

“I think I can hold his interest.”

 

“Oh, I think you can. You want him?”

 

“I've done worse. It's not like I have a lot of options, anyway.”

 

“All right,' Farfarello whispered into Aya's ear. He was still gently stroking Aya's cock. “How do you want it?”

 

Aya reached into his coat pocket and handed Farfarello his Walther semi-automatic, barrel first.

 

Farfarello nodded. “OK; stand up against the wall. I'll add a theatrical flourish, too, to impress your new boyfriend.”

 

Aya rolled his eyes and stood up, stuffing his erection back into his pants.

 

Even though he knew what was coming, more or less, and watched closely, Farfarello was only a blur as he brought the gun up and smashed the handle against the side of Aya's face. His vision went blank then and he leaned his head back against the wall, gasping, trying to process the pain. *Fuck*, that hurt. And he felt nauseated again -- he was damned tired of that. Which was too fucking bad, because they'd just gotten started.

 

He was distracted from his thoughts -- more like little thought-lets, really, occasionally lurching aimlessly across the malfunctioning murk of his brain -- by Farfarello licking and sucking at the wound, moaning quietly and grinding his erection into Aya's hip. Aya's ability to distinguish between pain and pleasure -- to the extent that he'd ever been able to -- was pretty much shot. He moaned loudly. God, it hurt. Farfarello understood him, though, and could be trusted to do what needed to be done without getting all sentimental about it... unlike Kudoh, he was sure. Aya set that aside. There was a purity to what they did that he wouldn't defile with thoughts of another man. Or any thoughts at all.

 

Aya noticed the disturbing, meaty sound the gun made as it slammed into his chest about half a second before he felt it. And before he could process the pain, it slammed into him again, and again, and then Farfello turned him around, facing the wall, and started on his back. Aya could no longer differentiate the individual blows, except for the final, vicious jolt to his kidney, which made him slide down the wall and curl up involuntarily.

 

Farfarello put the gun back in Aya's pocket and curled up against him on the floor, holding him tight and whispering into his ear. Aya wished he could figure out what he was saying. Farfarello was kissing the back of his neck, licking the bite mark he'd left last night; running his lips along the outside of Aya's ear and making soothing humming noises. Aya slowly realized the other assassin was rhythmically grinding his erection against his ass, and his breathing was harsh and fast. Aya loved making him lose control like that.

 

“When I look at you, bruised and bloody... it makes your beauty almost unbearable,” Farfarello murmured, shifting away so he could pull down Aya's pants. He pushed himself inside and Aya moaned loudly -- it hurt so much, everything, so much... but as Farfarello began to move inside him, the pain -- so intense he was close to losing consciousness -- turned into more, and his whole body was throbbing in time to Farfarello's rhythm, and now Farfarello was working his cock, making him hard again... They didn't often get to slip their leashes like this, and these moments were miraculous, burning off all of Aya's rage and frustration. He could feel his orgasm building, Farfarello forcing him to come, and giving into it felt like dying.