I'm Not
Part 3
"KA! HYAH!" Aya lunged forward, sword held straight before him. He pulled the sword back and feinted left before suddenly throwing himself to the floor and rolling, ducking his head to avoid any blows.
"HA!" He came out of his roll and straight into a defensive stance.
::Why did I give in again? I had him. If I had pushed, Yohji would have crumbled, I know it. He was weakening. He wants me as much as I...::
A sudden lunge to his right and he brought his sword up in a parry. Dodging left again he brought his sword forward in a wide arc. Suddenly lunging, taking advantage of an opening, he thrust his sword forward, straight into the heart of his imaginary opponent.
Whirling in the confines of their practice room he brought his sword back up to begin again. Bringing his sword up to his face, he could feel his body fall into the familiar patterns of the first circle, and he let his mind wander free.
He had not spoken to Yohji since that night. He wouldn't even look at him. He knew his own temper well enough, and the anger he felt at being rejected - not once, but twice! - was such that he knew he would do the other harm at the least provocation.
The steps of the first circle done, body held straight, he twisted, holding the sword sideways and began the second.
He wanted, wanted, wanted. Needed, but he couldn't have. Why? Because Yohji was denying his own body. Was struggling against the desire that drew him to Aya. Was fighting the same fire that, once awakened and given its first taste, refused to return to its prison peacefully.
Aya had never had this much trouble controlling his own emotions, his own body. ::I kept the desire in check for months; why is it so hard to put back now!::
Aya lunged, sword slashing viciously.
"KYAH!"
Yohji winced as he heard the harsh yells coming from inside the practice room. He knew Aya was practicing his katas.
::Aya. He hasn't spoken to me in days. Not since...::
Yohji shook his head and decided to head back to his room. He threw himself onto his bed and ran a hand through his hair. He grimaced as he realized how greasy it had become. ::No wonder, I don't think I've ever run my hands through my hair this much before. If I'm not careful I'm going to end up pulling it all out.:: He had developed a nervous habit of running his fingers through his hair almost constantly ever since...
::Ever since that day on the building::
In an effort to prove his masculinity Yohji had slept with as many women as were willing. As a result Yohji had managed to sleep with more women in the few days following the incident than he slept with in the previous month, but something had changed. He could feel himself getting excited by their looks, the promise of hidden curves and soft looking skin. He would be looking forward to tasting them, to slipping his hands and tongue inside their bodies, to penetrating their willing flesh.
Hungry, he would grab them and pull them close, bring their faces up to his own for that first, glorious taste... and nearly gag when he slipped his tongue into their mouths or they slipped theirs into his. The taste, *their* taste, was all wrong. They didn't all taste the same and yet they did. Chemical taste of toothpaste or mouthwash, different flowery tastes that only women ever seemed to manage to taste like, clean, bubble gum taste or fresh breath-mint taste, even one woman who reminded him of cherries... and, yet, he found each of them distasteful, too much like what he'd always had. All sweetness, cleanliness, womanliness, no bite, no... bitterness to accompany the sweet. Honey, yes, but no lemon and spices. No golden amber.
That didn't mean he didn't go forward with it though. He would still follow them to the nearest bed and take them but... it was all mechanical. He didn't feel the fire anymore. It was as if for all their passion, all their desire, they couldn't burn brightly enough, hot enough. Their touch couldn't scorch his skin like...
But the final straw had been when he'd taken a small, petite woman to bed with him. Her beauty wasn't stunning. Her curves were moderate. What had drawn his eyes to her had been her hair: short and wild, it was a color he had only ever seen on one other person.
Flashes of red hair through half lidded eyes, moist heat enveloping him, taking him in, swallowing him. Grabbing narrow hips, he had pulled them down to him, body rising to plunge into sacred warmth, narrow hands making their way on his chest. Unable to help himself he had cried out, voice and body rising in his pleasure. Suddenly she was fighting him, tugging at his hands, pulling them away from her body. Startled, afraid he had hurt her, he had released her.
She had pulled off of him her body stiff in anger. Yohji had stared at her in bewilderment. What had he...?
"Who the Hell is Aya?"
"Wh-what?"
"Who the Hell is Aya?"
"When did I-?"
"Right now. Just a second ago," she had snarled. "You just yelled out her name. Who the Hell is she?"
"I didn't -"
Before he could finish the sentence she was gone. She had thrown on her dress and disappeared out the door.
He had been left alone, his body still singing with unfulfilled lust, his mind whirling with denial.
::He hadn't. He knew he hadn't.::
Several hours later that same night he had made his way home. Depressed and unwilling to face anyone, he had snuck in the back door, making sure to be as quiet as he could. Seeing no one he had thought himself safe and begun to make his way up the stairs only to hear a sound above him. Looking up he had seen Aya coming out of the practice room, shirtless, trim body shinning with a fine layer of sweat.
Immediately, Yohji had felt himself responding, his body rising. Perhaps hearing something or maybe sensing Yohji's gaze Aya had turned, violet eyes searching the shadows where Yohji was hidden. Apparently, not finding anything, Aya had frowned then withdrawn into his room.
Shocked by his own body's reaction, Yohji had waited until he had heard Aya start the shower before slipping up into his own room.
::No. I don't want Aya. I don't.::
Undressing, he realized that, however much his mind might deny it, his body had other ideas. He might be fighting it but his body seemed primed and ready to go.
::No. Its just because I didn't - earlier.::
That had been the last night he had forced himself to go out. Since then he just couldn't... Yohji was a firm believer in if it feels good, do it. So when it stopped feeling good why torture one's self? So he had decided he would just take a short break from women. That didn't mean that he wanted... No. He was still straight. He was.
That had been several days ago and Yohji found that he missed it. He missed sex. And his libido, not having its usual out, had turned instead to his dreams. Yohji grimaced. Another new habit he seemed to have developed was that of having extraordinarily vivid dreams. Dreams that left him sticky and hungry afterwards. The worst part was that he could remember almost every detail of those dreams and, in each of them, where before gorgeous women might star, there was only Aya. Cold and harsh Aya. Only, in the dreams, he wasn't cold. Harsh? Maybe, but never cold.
In his dreams Yohji found the fire he had been missing, the sweet golden taste slipping down his tongue to fill him as he took Aya's mouth over and over again. The desire rising to an inferno within him as Aya moved his hands over his body; as Aya rubbed his hard, male body against his own.
Yohji shifted uncomfortably. The mere memory of those dreams enough to make his body to react.
::Shit. Aya. Why?::
And why was he about to be forced to spend the entire afternoon alone with the redhead when he hadn't even spoken to him in weeks? Yohji thought back to the conversation he had had with Omi earlier that day.
"I'm sorry, Yohji-kun," Omi had said, "but I have to make up the test I missed because of the last mission. If I don't, I'm going to fail the class, and sensei said he would only be able to give me the make up test this afternoon. Gomen, but I have to."
"Can't Ken -?" He'd tried.
"Ken's not here. The kids he coaches dragged him away to a meet. He won't be back until tonight. Yohji-kun." Omi had given him the saddest, most sincere puppy eyes on the earth. Yohji hated it when he did that but the poor kid took enough on himself, being not only a student and part time florist, but also an assassin like the rest of them. Yohji had caved like a ton of bricks. After all, it wasn't Omi's fault that Yohji's libido had chosen to go wild and that Aya seemed so keen on taking advantage of it.
He looked at his watch. Three o'clock. ::I better get down there or our little bishounen is going to be late. At least we close early today. Just a couple of hours, how hard can it be?::
::Very hard.:: Yohji decided not much later.
Aya wasn't doing anything unusual. He was still treating Yohji like he didn't exist but otherwise he was acting normal, at least normal for Aya. But Yohji had never realized just how... sensual Aya was. It didn't seem to be anything conscious on Aya's part. It was just... the way he handled the flowers, the way the light came through the windows to highlight his features, the way his violet eyes would narrow in his concentration, eyes focused on whatever task he was working on at the time. When Aya was doing something he did it with his whole body, his whole soul, giving it every ounce of his concentration. Aya making a flower arrangement was Aya making love to stupid potted plant that couldn't even feel it.
::Now, if *I* was that baka tulip I wouldn't just lie there I'd-::
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell over the door suddenly chiming.
A dark haired man, perhaps as tall as he if not taller, stepped into the shop.
::Wasn't this guy in here just last week?::
::Yohji, stop looking at me. If you keep this up I'm going to...::
Aya had been aware of Yohji's stare since it started earlier that afternoon. Apparently, Yohji thought he was unaware of his regard and so had kept staring at him, but it was impossible not to notice. The gaze was like warm silk sliding over his body; like a moist tongue reaching out to trace the line of his lips. The glance was also the reason he had yet to finish the arrangement he had been trying to do for the past 20 minutes.
Aya was relieved to hear the bell chiming. It forced Yohji's eyes away from him and granted him a chance to breathe. Sensing that whoever had entered the shop was walking towards him, Aya looked up and fought back a grimace.
"Konbanwa, Aya. How are you this evening?"
Aya merely looked at him.
Frowning at receiving no response, the man tried a different tack.
"I hope you remember me. I was in here last week. You made a wonderful floral arrangement for me and I was hoping perhaps you could do the same again? With purple violets and... something... red?" The man was looking at Aya's hair as he said this. "A full red rose perhaps? Something that would make their natural beauty shine out. Those seem to be my favorite colors of late: Violet with red, along with a soft, pale cream to complement them. Such an exotic combination, ne?"
Not saying a word, hiding his distaste at the man's flirting, Aya moved to retrieve the items requested. The man's eyes did not leave him even once.
::Okay, so I'm gay, but why does everyone have to stare at me?:: At least this man's stare he could ignore. Aya, focused on his work, soon forgot about the man completely.
Yohji was seething. So he wasn't gay and he didn't want Aya but that didn't mean that this man could have him. Aya wanted Kudou Yohji! Not this man in his elegant suit with the perfectly manicured hands and not a single hair out of place. Aya wanted him!
The man was practically drooling over Aya. Aya: who was probably too far gone in whatever spell flowers held over him to notice the eyes running lasciviously over every inch of his body as he worked on the arrangement. Aya: who made love to flowers when he was handling them. Aya: who exuded sensuality like this man exuded slime.
"That'll be $49.50!" He called loudly.
The man looked up startled, obviously not having realized that there was anyone else in the shop.
"You can pay me over here."
"Oh, I -"
Aya tied a neat bow on the flowers, finishing it, and handed it to the man. Having done his part to insure the prosperity of the flower shop, Aya turned, pulled the arrangement he had been working on earlier to him, and resumed his work on it. The man was left to make his way over to Yohji to pay for the arrangement. Glancing back one more time the man saw that Aya was already lost again in the flowers he was handling. Yohji opened the register loudly, recalling the man's attention to him and handed him his change.
"Bye-bye." Yohji said, making sure to let his glasses slide down his nose a bit so he could glare at the guy over them. The man took his change and left.
Not too long after that it was closing time. Exchanging not a word, the two quickly and efficiently cleaned up shop then retired to their own rooms.
::I was not jealous. I was not.:: Yohji sighed. ::Why is it that lately all I do is make denials in my own head? Bah.:: Yohji pulled the covers on his bed back and got in, not really tired but wanting a comfortable place to brood in.
::Okay, so maybe I was admiring Aya. Maybe I do like the way he moves. He has such a smooth, clean way of doing things, so economical, so efficient, so... sensual.:: He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. ::That doesn't mean I want him.::
::I'm not a pervert. I don't go for guys like that. That man just got on my nerves, drooling over Aya like that, undressing him with his eyes, watching him like, like... like I had been doing.::
His frown deepened. ::And just what in hell had I been thinking before that man stepped in? What sort of idiocy was that? "If *I* was that baka tulip I wouldn't just lie there I'd -" So he hadn't finished the thought but he knew very well where it was leading::
Sigh.
::The same place where all his dreams had led of late: Aya::
Yohji groaned and covered his face.
::Maybe, just maybe... I want Aya?::
::What do two guys do together anyway? I wouldn't know what to do!::
He thought back to all his recent dreams. He couldn't remember what happened in all of them. Sometimes all he remembered was Aya's amber taste, the spiced honey and lemon better than the finest wine he had ever tasted, but he did remember some of them. Quite vividly in fact. In one, Aya had finished what Yohji had interrupted on that night when Aya had been a witness to his wet dream. In the dream, Aya had not been stopped after simply licking the semen off Yohji's thighs and abdomen no, he had actually gone further. Refusing to stop when Yohji commanded it, Aya had proceeded to take Yohji's hard length into his mouth, proceeded to suck on him, to pull on him until Yohji had cried out and spilled himself down Aya's throat. In another dream, Aya had been touching him, caressing him, taking command of Yohji's own body as he forced the pleasure to build higher and higher. Aya's mouth had been everywhere, tasting him, taunting him.
::Uhm, okay, so maybe I have some idea:: Yohji stood to turn the fan on in the suddenly too hot room. ::But I'm not gay!::
Yohji snorted at himself. ::No, I just want Aya spread eagled on my bed, naked, so we can play a game of cards.::
::Hmmm, maybe strip poker? That could be interesting. Every time one of us lost after all the clothes were gone, we'd have to....::
::Okay, back to the matter at hand. So, maybe, I want Aya.:: He sat back down and spread his thighs a little to allow the erection that had sprung up from all this thinking room to breathe.
::But I'm not gay. Shit, this is getting me nowhere. I don't like guys but I want Aya. I like women but, lately, they don't get me excited unless they look like Aya, and if they don't taste like him...::
::Mmm, how does Aya manage to taste like that anyway? Is it that tea I always see him drinking? I've never come across such an odd taste. It's like ambrosia. His lips taste so sweet but slip in a little further and the heat surrounds you, spices exploding on your tongue, small aftertaste of lemon... I... I...::
::Fess up, Kudou; you're not a coward.::
Yohji took a deep breath
::I... I want Aya.::
::Come on, Kudou, say it out loud, you're a big boy now.::
"I - I want... I want Fujimiya Aya. -chan."
Yohji winced. Okay. That was just sick. He took another deep breath and tried again.
"I, Kudou Yohji, self proclaimed lady's man, want Fujimiya Aya. But I'm not gay."
Aya froze. He had been passing by Yohji's door when he heard voices. Seeing red, thinking Yohji must have brought some woman - here! - to their home, he had stopped to listen. But he had soon realized that it was just Yohji muttering to himself in a voice far too quiet for him to make anything out clearly, he had been about to move on when Yohji had suddenly proclaimed his desire...for Aya's sister. Aya had been about to barge in to chop him up into little bite size pieces so he could feed them to the cat (never mind he didn't have his katana with him or the fact that they didn't own a cat, he was going to charge in there anyway) when Yohji had spoken again.
"I, Kudou Yohji, self proclaimed lady's man, want Fujimiya Aya. But I'm not gay."
::So he wants me but isn't gay? Bakayaro.::
Aya stood fuming at the closed door. ::Of all the...::
Just then, he heard the downstairs door open and Omi's and Ken's laughter.
"Guys, we're home. Anyone here?" Ken yelled up the stairs. Not in a mood to face the two younger assassins, Aya retreated to his room, fists clenched at his sides.
Thanks again to all the people who have commented so far and enjoyed the fic. Please remember this is my first WK fanfic so be kind and remember to leave comments or I might just never write again. Of course, that might be a good thing. ^_^