Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Monozuki ❯ Yohji and Orchids ( Chapter 4 )

Monozuki - An Idle Curiosity

A Weiss Kreuz/Yami no Matsuei crossover.

Monozuki 4 - Yohji and Orchids

By Lisa

Way, hey… Check out the babe… Uh, huh, gotta love those skin tight leathers, and I mean tight. Any closer, and you wouldn't need to take them off that sweet ass first. Pretty young bishounen like that shouldn't come to a place like this alone, somebody might get the wrong idea…

Like me.

No surprise that I hadn't noticed him come in; the club was that packed, all on a Saturday night. The air was pulsing with the fire-quick beat of the music's groove track, and the lights strobing along in red, blue, and blazing white made it seem solid, and alive. Half the people in the place were stripped down to naked chests and writhing hips, practically one gigantic organism intent on fucking itself into blissful oblivion. But this pretty bishounen was sticking close to the fringes of the crowd, loving the dancing, hating the packed floor, I would guess.

And my, could that boy dance.

He was still wearing a smoky, nearly transparent shirt - I was catching glimpses of dark nipples, and whoa, was that the glint of a ring in one? - with a high collar that fastened with minute silver buckles. It was just the sort of thing Aya liked to wear, and it always left me with visions of undoing each one, slowly, with just my teeth. The way that fabric clung to every sweet curve made it a perfect match for those lovely, fuckable leather pants, and just the right contrast for pale skin and equally dark hair clinging in messy, sweaty strands to his forehead and temples. I think I was in love. Or something.

Some random stranger matched his sinuous moves to my boy for a minute, until pretty shot him a regretful look, and gave a sharp, negative shake of his head. Hee, hee. Warned the poacher right off, he did. But it made me think that, maybe, watching wasn't going to be good enough, and I'd better make a move before he did find someone that he liked, before he disappeared off into one of the darkened alcoves, or up the stairs through the trailing streamers of cigarette and who-knew-what-else kind of smoke.

I was half-way across the packed distance before my brain had totally processed the fact that this was The One. Funny how it worked, but my instincts were seldom wrong, and they were screaming that this pretty boy had the power to take me round-trip to Nirvanna and back.

Bishounen's eyes widened in surprise when I slid in in front of him, picking up a counter beat that brought my hip into grazing contact with his for just a fleeting second. Fuck, it was like brushing up against a live wire, and judging by the way his pale eyes (blue? hard to tell in the changeable lighting) suddenly dilated, he felt every jolt and tremor of it, too. Damn, that look was pure sex on wheels, and the way he licked his lips uncertainly as he ran his eyes over me just signed and sealed my fate. All that was lacking was the delivery.

It seemed likely that what he saw in front of him was doing something for him, too, because he didn't warn me off the way he had his earlier suitor. Those hot, pale eyes lingered on my bare chest, visible through the swaying curtains of my open shirt, and a smile quirked up his full, pink lips.

Yeah, mama… come to papa.

There was no way to talk in the thumping, pulse-jumping club. I was tempted to try, just to get my lips up against the barely visible, delicate curve of his ear, to get a chance to nuzzle into that sweaty, luscious black silk hair, but I didn't want to risk scaring him off. Seeing the way he flinched and twitched, subconscious reactions when the beast that was the crowd got to close, I wanted to ask him to go someplace more private… like one of the smaller clubs where I had a members-only card, and where there were guest rooms upstairs with silk sheets. Fuck, the thought of laying him back on scarlet sheets, and opening that smoky shirt, one buckle at a time to get at the pale skin underneath and the glinting, silver ring, was making me crazy-hard. But first things first, Kudoh. Gotta walk before you can run.

As the driving beat changed its rhythm, picking up more of a Middle Eastern flavor, inspiration struck. I could work with this… Hmm, could I ever work with it.

My arms came up, twining together into a complex, liquid move that was actually one of the warm-up exercises for playing out my wire, but never mind that. Pretty boy's eyes flickered, distracted by the glitter of gold rings on my fingers, and the iridescent shine of the midnight blue fabric of my shirt. Its long cuffs with the dozen tiny buttons fed into full sleeves that billowed and teased - oh, yeah, watch the show, bishounen, this is how it's gonna work - silk that brushed ever so lightly against his cheek, and the bare, exposed skin of the back of his hand. I put the same, serpentine, seductive roll into my shoulders, and let it flow on down to my hips, dragging his eyes with the movement so that he would notice the tight, dark blue leather of my pants.

Those eyes widened, and darkened, even as the faint tint of color on his cheeks drained away. His hand was visibly shaking when it came up, and settled onto my hip, on the exposed curve of bone and muscle, just above the waistband. Then the other, trembling like a butterfly, arrived at my other side, and he was moving with me, matching me like my own reflection in a mirror, except that he was fucking gorgeous.

I could have taken him, right there, on the cold concrete, and died a happy man.

But never let it be said that Kudoh Yohji didn't understand how to do this right. I could jump right to the main event, sure, but that would mean giving up all the appetizers, and that flickering, pale blue gaze promised one hell of a banquet.

The electricity of his long, slender fingers gripping my hips provided constant points of stimulation, feeding into the heat behind my navel, and trailing sparks of lust up my spine. So little contact, so much arousal. It almost hurt to slide the backs of my knuckles up the smooth skin of his jaw, headed for the delicious, beckoning hollow where jaw, throat and ear all came together. He turned his head, sensuously rubbing against me, and I swear my knees went weak. My other arm was curving down, letting me rest splayed fingers against the small of his back. I rubbed the ball of my thumb gently up and down the shallow groove of his spine, drawing forth a powerful shiver. Faltering, he lost the beat of the music, and I drew him up flush against my body, giving back the rhythm.

The timing couldn't have been better; the DJ having moved on to spinning something just as demanding, but slower and more sensuous. Our leathers clung, resisting, until our hips found that one, true place where pace and rhythm became merged. Against my bare skin the transparent smoke of his silk shirt shivered and warmed as each panting breath put us closer and closer to being in synch, to being one body, one heart beating fast and furious. I tilted my head and licked chilly salt sweat from the side of his overheated throat, feeling a moan that I couldn't begin to hear vibrate against my teeth.

Hmm… If I were really a florist, I'd give this one Schizantus orchids. Their bold colors: cream, mauve, red, and white; and the beautiful, open-faced flowers with their butterfly patterns that symbolized lust and ecstasy would be perfect.

I wanted to see him open up like one of those flowers.

His hands hadn't moved, were still locked into place on my hips, and that was okay given the way my lovely boy's whole body was kissing me. There was good, hard muscle inside those tight pants; lean, long legs that promised stamina and agility. The erection that buzzed a teasing path across mine as we danced was far from childish, as were the rippling muscles of the flat abdomen above. The trembling shoulder my hand closed onto had the same understated, graceful hardness as Aya's; a swordsman's, not a weightlifter's.

Our next dance was going to be very, very good.

That willowy, pliable body was melting, leaning in closer. His slim torso rubbed against mine, the solid outline of his nipple ring digging the tiniest furrow across my willing skin, gliding beneath the slinky fabric of his shirt. My teeth ached to tug at that ring, to see if his response would be sharp - thrashing under me - or soft - a gasp and a slow writhing. There was a greater, firm mass between us, hot and hard as we slow danced together, and the teasing sparks were turning into a steady, blowtorch flame.

Long fingers wriggled in along the line of my jaw, lifting my chin from its nest in the young man's sleek black hair. I gave them a lazy nip, and curled my tongue around the tip of the longest, drawing it into my mouth suggestively. Just think, my tongue told it, sliding back and forth, This could be happening somewhere else, somewhere tight, and hot… Soft breath on the outside of my neck brought my eyes fluttering open for an up-close view of beautiful, hazel eyes, long and narrow with lust of their own. My pretty boy leaned his face into my collar, letting the stranger that draped over his shoulder claim my mouth in what started as a light, teasing kiss at the outside corner and rapidly consumed me.

My hand, still splayed on the young thing's lower back, was trapped betwixt and between that smoky sleek shirt and another trim body. This one was wearing not only butter-soft leather pants, but an open, sleeveless vest with nothing under that let silky warm skin slide over my knuckles. The slim fingers clutching my hips convulsed, and then the kid was grinding, getting desperate against the two of us that held him prisoner. My trapped hand had no doubt that the newcomer was seriously turned on, because I could feel a hard length through the skin-thin leather, could almost have helped it out as it slid between the cheeks of boy's eager ass.

The hazel-eyed man turned my mouth loose with a lingering swipe of a clever tongue. He drew back just a hair, stroking his chin over the shivering boy's dark silk hair. Lips that glistened with my saliva shaped a word that I couldn't hear over the thunder of the music, but would have recognized anywhere:

Mine.

Heh. Hard to argue that, and Kudoh Yohji wasn't the sort to force anyone into a good time if they weren't willing. But I had to check. I tilted back onto my heels, lifting the lovely bishounen's face, and saw the truth in the furious blush that stained his cheeks. Oh, yeah. This one was taken, all right… and about to be taken in more ways than the one, if the insistent twitch against my hand meant anything. I rubbed my knuckles up and down, raising one of my own eyebrows in silent invitation, only to have the new guy shake his head, while a fond smile drew up a mouth that was every bit as gorgeous as my almost-lover's.

Ah well. You win some, you lose some. I reluctantly stepped back, feeling the chilly loss as those bruising fingers that had been locked on my hips fell away, as my groin was abandoned… The little bishounen squirmed around and buried his face and fists into a wonderfully enticing vest and pants set in bitter chocolate brown, worn by an equally pretty young man. That slim vision tightened its arms around my - his - boy, and grinned, showing a sliver of white teeth. In the flashing lights, his hair was blue, then violet, and finally revealed as auburn.

Auburn. Hmm. My own lips quirked up, and I tossed him a lazy salute.

Maybe it was time to call it a night, after all.