Possession by paxnirvana
Rating: NC-17 Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Characters: Yohji and Aya Date Completed: 8/19/02 Archive: Please ask first.
Author's Note: Pretty boys. Pretty boy florists. Pretty boy florist assassins. Pretty boy florist assassins with lots of angst… Me bad.
And just who hasn't felt erotically inspired by Sarah McLachlan's 'Possession'? Have you heard the piano version? Whew, baby! And damn, but that song makes me want to grab somebody special and ravish them… every time! So this is a pretty SHAMELESS PWP. Be warned. *grin*
Dedicated to: Nekojita for her whole lovely "Violet Eyes" series. I am inspired… and envious. My boys don't steam even half as much as yours do, dear. Yohji x Aya forever, woo-hoo!
Disclaimer: They belong to Project Weiß and various others who aren't me; no money being made here.
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And I would be the one To hold you down Kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away, and after I'd Wipe away the tears Just close your eyes, dear 'Possession' - Sarah McLachlan
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The taste of it was almost punishment enough for the sin, but even that wasn't enough to stop him. Stale smoke and alcohol, most of all, and the foulness that those odors left too long on human breath after hours of indulgence. There were sometimes other flavors too; lipstick, vomit, sex.
But he just didn't care.
No, the taste alone couldn't deter him from the guilty pleasure. He had to do it. It had become the one thing he'd begun to look forward to more than any other in the endless, grinding agony that was his existence. Because outside those few stolen moments of guilty pleasure, that was all he did.
Exist. Exist and… kill.
"Get up, damn you," Aya Fujimiya growled at the slumped form at the bottom of the stairs, angered by his thoughts. By the guilt, now, when all he wanted to do was savor the coming moment. They came so rarely.
Below, the tousled head lifted with a jerk, and alcohol-blurred green eyes blinked at him in mild surprise. Just like they always did. It was a wonder the playboy could even find his way home at night. Yohji Kudoh was close to passing-out drunk. Again. Which made his breath catch in anticipation.
Aya constantly wondered how he managed it – how Yohji managed to keep from wrapping himself around a lamppost when returning from one of his benders. And how he managed to avoid being stopped by the police. The gods must watch over drunks and fools. Or why else would he be down here, leaving his warm bed behind to help his teammate up to his room in the middle of the night… again.
Yohji waved at him cheerfully from within a fall of dark green silk. His elegant duster, now crumpled around him untidily. He'd started the evening with a sheer emerald shirt over his usual tight black crop top, but that had vanished. Lost, most likely. His dirty-blonde hair was tumbled around his face, the neat ponytail long gone. Tight black suede leather pants that hugged his long, sprawled legs completed his attire. The heavy metal-studded belt served only to accentuate the slimness of his hips; it certainly wasn't there to keep the pants up over the heeled boots. Sheer tension did that.
They were definitely look-at-me-want-me-touch-me clothes, as Yohji had proudly stated before he left earlier this evening.
Aya took the last few steps down to the bottom of the stairwell, glaring down at the tall man lying at his feet. Fighting the urgent, unwelcome response inside. This time, he thought angrily, he should leave him down here to sleep it off.
Then Yohji grinned up at him, blinking his eyes slowly and with great effort. Trying to focus. His mouth looked faintly swollen and there was a small reddish-purple mark on the tanned skin below his left ear that hadn't been there before. Apparently, he'd found a date for the evening. He'd been complaining loudly of the lack on his way out, earlier.
Aya's gaze fastened on that small mark. His pulse began to throb in his throat as he fought back the guilty heat that filled him. No. He was just lying to himself. He knew exactly why he was down here again.
"Oi, Ay-y-an! Did I wake you?" The pet name was drawn out in an annoyingly sing-song way. As if he didn't hate the very name itself enough. Of course, Yohji knew that. Or a sober one did, at least, and would have done it deliberately to anger him. But it was tough to tell if a drunken Yohji knew how offensive he was being. It was also difficult to stay angry with a smiling and cheerfully compliant Yohji.
Compliant… and not likely to remember what happened to him right before he passed out. The heat in Aya rose higher, threatening to swamp his reason.
"Yes," he answered him shortly, bending over to catch a languidly waving arm near the elbow. He pulled the lanky form up with a jerk, cushioning that stumbling body against his own easily. Though he was tall, there wasn't a lot of bulk to Yohji. He was lean, graceful, and sleek, like a greyhound. Exotic and fragile appearing, but deceptively tough and quick. But not now. Now Yohji slumped over his shoulder heavily, all grace gone, a broad, silly grin on his face. He reeked of bar smoke, perfume and spent sex.
"Oh, good!" Aya felt the other man's breath stir the long hair by his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Hands clasped around him, for balance, most likely, but they were Yohji's hands. Touching him.
Aya almost snarled in response, feeling his control fray that much further. "What?"
"Had a good evening… wanted to share," Yohji said frowning and nodding with all the comical seriousness of the very drunk as he swayed against Aya. Aya wrapped an arm around his waist, even as Yohji draped a companionable arm over his shoulders. Being far more helpful than he usually was. "She was… they were… fabulous. Damn, Aya, she had a room-mate. Two beautiful women! You should have been there…"
"I don't think so," Aya said grimly, turning the stumbling figure toward the stairs. Gritting his teeth as he helped Yohji slowly up to the second floor. To his apartment. The climb silenced Yohji for a little while as he concentrated on putting his unsteady feet one in front of the other. But only for a little while.
"But two at a time! Aie! And not one dog and one beauty either, Aya. Uh-uh, not for everyone's favorite Yohji Kudoh! No, they were both true beauties! So hot. You know, I watched them do each other for a while…" he gave a leering grin, and tried to jostle Aya in a knowing way. The move almost sent them both plunging down the stairs, but Aya held firmly on to the handrail, glaring over at the smugly smiling man beside him as his arm tightened around his waist warningly.
"Shut up, Yohji. Climb the stairs." The words were little more than a tight snarl.
Emerald eyes glittered with pleased amusement for needling him, but a small frown touched those kiss-swollen lips. "Okay! Okay! Grouch."
No wonder his lips looked that way. He'd had two women. Aya ground his teeth in bitter frustration.
They climbed in awkward silence again, until they reached the upper floor. Then Yohji pulled away, fumbling in his tight pants pocket for his keys. It looked to be quite a battle, and for an instant Aya was certain he'd have to retrieve the keys himself, but Yohji fished them out with a little crow of triumph and promptly dropped them on the floor. When he bent over to retrieve them, he tumbled to the ground, letting out a little bark of laughter as he did so. Yohji sat there, head in his hands, laughing softly to himself.
"Oh, hey, Aya – what am I doing down here?"
Disgusted and impatient, Aya leaned down, snatched up the keys and unlocked the door to Yohji's apartment. Tossing the keys on the low shelf just inside the door, he turned back to drag the snickering man to his feet once more.
Yohji crumpled against him again, draping himself over Aya like a limp puppet, strings cut. "Carry me?" he asked, blinking half-lidded eyes at Aya in a mock-pleading way.
"Stand up," Aya just growled, jostling him roughly as he half-dragged, half-carried him through the door anyway. In a hurry now to get Yohji inside his room. And get him down on the bed. Because that strange heat was with him, growing swiftly with each casual sway of Yohji's hips against his, every brush of his arms, even the sound of his harsh breathing. Stretching his control farther than he'd ever felt it tested before. His heart pounded in anticipation of the reward he would claim for this.
"Oh, no fun… you're no fun, Aya… lighten up!" Yohji muttered reproachfully, staggering out of Aya's grasp, hand flailing at the shelves as he passed sending something – books it sounded like – toppling to the floor. Ignoring the minor accident, Aya kicked the door shut behind them. The sound apparently startled Yohji, who spun away warily, the defensive pose spoiled by a decided sway as assassin's reflexes kicked in despite the layers of alcohol shrouding his mind. Yohji frowned around.
"Shit… Just the door… Where's my bed?" Yohji turned away from Aya after peering at him blearily for an instant. He staggered toward the bed. Aya followed.
Yohji tumbled across his bed onto his back, falling at an angle across the king-sized mattress that filled a large portion of the room. Yohji was tall. He needed the room to sleep, not just to roll around on with an endless parade of lovers. Though Yohji had certainly done plenty of that too. Aya was only glad that he'd apparently stopped that habit about six months ago. Omi's endless lectures on security risks finally seemed to have sunk in. Yohji slept in that bed alone, now. Yet as Aya recalled from his first night in Weiß, the bed was incredibly comfortable as well as large. Lots of room.
Aya stalked over to the bed. Stared down at the man sprawled across it. Yohji had one slender arm over his eyes despite the overall darkness of the room. It was lit only by the light from the streetlight shining through the open blinds in stark bars, but the bars of light fell across the bed at an angle, across Yohji's face. His sunglasses were long gone – maybe in the pocket of his silk duster, which had fallen open under him like a cloak, framing that lean form in lush forest-green. His shirt was cropped and skin-tight, of course, showing off his tanned abs and slim waist above the low-slung pants that just skimmed the top of his angular hip bones. His lips were parted as he sucked in several deep breaths. Obviously close to passing out.
Aya leaned over the bed. Feeling his knee rise to the mattress, his hands drop down to brace himself above the gasping man. His blood was roaring in his ears. The moment was here. Yohji's mouth was already swollen. He'd never notice later… and so the temptation to add to that was overwhelming. Just as the little bruise on that graceful neck taunted him. This was what he waited for. Aya's heart thundered in his chest, his own pulse practically deafening him.
This moment… this exact moment. When Yohji was struggling to keep awake, his weary body relaxing in his own bed, his mind whirling in the grip of alcohol, sated from an evening out... this was the forbidden moment that made the blood sing in Aya's veins. The moment that he lived for…
Aya leaned down and closed his mouth over Yohji's. Firmly. On warm, moist heat. His lips pressed Yohji's open enough to enable his tongue to sweep inside. Tasting the things he expected, all the evidence of debauchery, but not caring as he felt Yohji's mouth fall open under his willingly. There was the ashy taste of cigarettes, of course, and the sour flavor of long-consumed alcohol, but it wasn't as strong as he expected. Yet he still didn't care. He only knew the heat of Yohji's mouth under his own, the wet wonder of those skilled lips responding to his.
This was his guilty secret. That he took payment for helping Yohji to bed. That he waited with something almost like eagerness on those nights Yohji went out for his own turn to come. For his chance when the other assassin's guard was down.
Yohji's arm fell away, back onto the bed. He moaned deep in his throat, the husky sound inciting Aya. And so he deepened the kiss, his tongue relentless as it stroked the other man's mouth, dueled with his tongue. Tasting something that was woman – or more than one, if his drunken bragging was true – and not Yohji or cigarettes or booze. Tasting sin.
Aya growled. Annoyed by the intrusion. Possessive feelings rose. He couldn't keep from sharing Yohji with cigarettes and booze, but women… he'd rather not. Aya tore his mouth away, ignoring his own harsh breathing as he fastened his mouth urgently over the mark on Yohji's neck.
He would replace that unknown woman's mark with his own. And only he would know for certain that the mark had once been smaller, less distinct. But he would know.
A lean hand rose up, tangled in his hair as the long body arched up under him. Responded to the hard suction on sleek skin by pressing him closer. Yohji groaned, the sound low, pained. So wanton. The sound made Aya's heart pound faster, his pulse throb.
"Oh, god… that feels so good." Aya felt the words under his lips. "Yes, oh, yes…"
Lust, blinding and sharp raced through Aya. Months of stolen kisses. Months of tormenting himself with what he couldn't have. Yohji was a slut, seeking out sin and sex every few nights. Eager and responsive and willing, even now, after sating himself on two women. The hand in his hair was proof enough, holding him close as that lean body rubbed up against his, arching into Aya, writhing slowly against him with readily aroused heat.
He finally broke away from Yohji's neck, aware that the mark there was now an angry dark purple. And far larger than it had been. Looking nothing like the paltry mark the woman had left. He felt a flare of dangerously possessive pride at that.
Aya wound one hand in Yohji's hair, holding him in place as he bent back to his mouth. Rough, this time, he forced the other man's mouth open, muffling the impassioned groans his urgency produced. Devouring him for long, endless minutes, swallowing down desperate sound after desperate sound. He finally broke away to stare down at Yohji's flushed face, at the gold-tipped lashes lying fanned on tanned cheeks, closed lids protecting the emerald eyes from his intent stare as he sucked in air. The wide mouth was open, panting, a sheen of saliva on those swollen lips glinting in the striped light.
"Mine," he snarled. Weary of kisses alone. Wanting more. So much more...
"Yes…" Yohji answered. The soft word was hissed, a response to stimuli, most likely, and not a true reply. But something in Aya snapped at the sound. He leaned forward, pressing his body down against Yohji's, his lips against the other man's, eyes drinking in every flutter of expression that crossed that handsome face.
"Yes, mine, Yohji," he repeated. Yohji just answered him with a groan, his body trembling. Aya's hand streaked down that lean chest; felt the hard nub of a nipple brush his palm, thrilling him. But he had another goal. The golden skin called him. His callused hand traced the ridged line of muscle slowly, brushing further and further down in slow sweeps. Drawing hisses from the man under him. Making him toss his head blindly, eyes still closed as he finally traced the shallow indentation of his belly button with a hard thumb.
There was a faint dusting of golden hair below that spot. A triangular patch that disappeared under the low, wide belt, into the tight pants now stretched even further by what was underneath. Aya's breath hissed in too as he ghosted his hand across that blood-hot surface to find the rigid length of flesh trapped beneath.
"God, yes!" Yohji groaned above him, hips surging up. Aya threw a leg across Yohji's thighs, trapping him, pressing him down into the bed as he stroked Yohji's hard flesh through the pants. A hoarse groan and white teeth buried in already-swollen lips were his reply.
Clumsy hands caught at his own, tugged impatiently at the heavy belt as lean hips ground back into the bed, rubbing Yohji's thighs against Aya's own. Rubbing Aya's own erection against one taut hip, making him groan once in response. He forced himself to stay quiet while savoring the soft mewling sounds of need Yohji made, his breath hitching in.
Aya watched, eyes narrowed, as Yohji finally freed himself from his pants with a hiss, the dark length of his erection jerking free of the leather, already weeping moisture from the broad tip. No underwear, of course. Not with leather. And after nearly a year of living in close proximity, Aya was well aware that Yohji was well-endowed. But he'd never seen him aroused before. He was impressive. Bigger than Aya himself, though he felt no shame in that. Instead he felt a fierce kind of possessiveness.
Aya wrapped his hand around Yohji's cock, pushing the other man's hand away. Yohji moaned wantonly at the touch.
"Yes… like that… god!" Yohji's head tipped back, throat exposed as Aya slowly, firmly stroked him from base to tip. Feeling the heat of him. The velvety-smooth texture. The broad strength. Over and over again, swiftly finding a rhythm that made Yohji's dark-blonde head toss back and forth, made his hips pulse up, surging against Aya's imprisoning thigh and rubbing against his erection, trapped between them.
Yohji. Lean and long and beautiful. Murmuring words in a husky voice perfect for these illicit actions done in the light-striped night on this obscenely big bed. "God… you're strong, baby… yes…. like that… oh, don't stop…"
But he did. Leaving Yohji gasping, but only momentarily as he slid up his body and sealed his mouth over Yohji's once more, craving his taste, drinking down his cries of protest over the interruption. But it was an interruption with a purpose. Aya's hands were busy on the tight pants, trying to tug them off – his task made much easier when Yohji realized what he was doing.
Once the pants were down to those lean thighs, he caught Yohji's hands in his own, drawing them up above his head. Crossing the wrists, he pressed down on them once, staring down into heavy-lidded green eyes, dark with lust.
"Leave them there," he ordered shortly. A wicked smile curved those lush, almost bruised-looking lips. The eyes slid closed again, mouth parting.
"Whatever you say, baby," Yohji all but purred, moving his hips sinuously under Aya's.
Aya drew back, sliding down the bed, his mind lost in a haze of desire. He quickly removed Yohji's boots, then stripped his pants the rest of the way off. He stared down for a moment, entranced by the sight of Yohji, naked from the ribs down, legs sprawled open across the green silk duster spread beneath him. Clever hands stayed crossed obediently above his head, elegant wrists showing beyond the cuffs of the coat. Long hair had tumbled over his face, shadowing his eyes. He was lust personified – a pagan sacrifice to desire.
The fire of wanting, the heat of need had risen so high in him that Aya could barely control the trembling of his hands.
He needed Yohji.
The truth was almost shattering, breaking over Aya like a fever. He needed to possess him at last, after all this time stealing what he wanted from this lovely, wanton, debauched creature. He needed to possess him. Yet, he knew he could only take from Yohji because he was someone who knew him for what he was – a killer – and didn't shun him. Couldn't shun him, because he was the same; a killer too.
Aya's gaze flashed up, locked on the barely seen gleam of green. A knowing smile teased Yohji's mouth.
"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice a low purr.
Aya stared at him, something about his words finally penetrating the heavy aura of lust that had overcome him. Yohji shifted slowly on the bed, silk whispering against his flesh like the caress of a hand. Aya had to swallow hard, hands fisting on his own thighs for a moment to hide the tremble in them.
"Do you like what you see… Aya?" Yohji asked again, green eyes catching and holding his suspicious gaze.
"You aren't drunk," Aya snapped, his own eyes flaring wide as the truth struck him. He reared back slightly in surprise. This was Yohji who knew women well and would have felt his own erection long ago. Yohji who lay there, exposed, open and asking him if he liked what he saw.
Yohji… who now knew who had been touching him, kissing him.
But there was no change in that heated emerald gaze. No lessening of the slow grind of hips.
"Oh, I am, but not that drunk. So don't leave me hanging now, Aya…" Yohji said, lowering his hands, trailing them down over his own face, neck and down to his own chest. Pushing up the tight shirt to reveal his erect nipples. His cock still stood tall, shiny pre-come glistening on the tip. He wanted this… yet he'd known, probably all along…
Shamed anger warred with hot desire, winning briefly. Aya lunged forward, capturing Yohji's wrists. He wrenched the other man's arms back above his head, face pressed close, his breath washing over Yohji's mouth as he snarled at him.
"I told you to leave them there…"
"God, yes, Aya!" Yohji cried, arching up against him, his cock trapped under Aya's thigh, pulsing against him, hot and hard.
"You slut…" Aya glared, anger still high.
"Maybe, but I'm your slut right now, Aya… all yours…" The husky, breathless words washed the anger away in a wave of pure lust. Aya bent down, sealing his mouth over Yohji's, stopping the words, swallowing them eagerly. He shifted his own hips, rubbing himself against Yohji, making them both groan deep in their throats.
Aya broke away, hands sliding down the silk-clad arms of the man beneath him until they rested on his heaving chest. He had buried his face in Yohji's neck, breathing hot against his skin, smelling the indefinable scent of Yohji – subtle cologne, cigarette smoke, leather, some exotic shampoo.
And he knew anger wasn't enough to stop him. He had to have him. Had to possess Yohji.
"I need to fuck you," Aya groaned against his skin, the words torn from him almost painfully. Lips brushing him as they moved. Yohji shivered, head tilting back, swallowing hard. He could feel the flex of Yohji's muscles as he struggled to keep his arms above his head against his inclination. That he did so sent a surge of satisfaction through Aya, making his heart pound faster with anticipation.
The words he wanted came then, little more than an urgent gasp. "Then fuck me, Aya."
Aya rose up on his hands and knees, hovering over the lean body beneath. Gaze locked on parted lips for a moment until the mouth opened wider, the tongue darted out, wetting the lips again. Aya groaned, licking his own lips in preparation.
"Lube's in the nightstand." He saw that beautiful mouth form the words, understood them on some level, but couldn't tear himself away. He just held himself over Yohji, staring down at his bruised mouth, feeling the clench of Yohji's thighs around his own, the erratic brush of that straining erection against his own cloth-covered thigh. Lost in heated desire. So close.
"I'll get it…" Yohji turned slightly, arching toward the head of the bed. His body pressed up against Aya's making him close his eyes and savor the sensation of Yohji's heat, Yohji's lean body willingly pressed against his own when he'd thought it would never happen save in stolen moments, secret caresses. Long fingers found the drawer of the nightstand and wrenched it open to fumble briefly inside. A fat tube was tossed on the bed beside Aya, thunking painfully into his wrist, breaking his reverie.
Aya moved with purpose then, rising up on his knees, straddling the other man's thighs. He picked up the tube, narrowed eyes catching and holding Yohji's gaze.
"I can't be gentle."
The green gaze never wavered. "Good."
That was all the reassurance he needed – and also the only chance he could give Yohji. He had to have him. With hands that trembled faintly, he yanked his own sweatpants down, flipping open the tube and squeezing a generous blob of clear lubricant onto his rigid flesh. It was faintly cool, but he barely noticed. It warmed as he spread it around, quickly coating his cock.
He shifted to the side, releasing one of Yohji's thighs from beneath his own, but only reaching back to catch the long leg under the knee and press it up toward Yohji's chest, opening him to him. He looked down, swallowing hard at the sight.
Lean, sleek buttocks. Straining thighs. Soft golden brown hair surrounding heavy balls under the still stiffly erect cock. A small hole beneath. So small. He looked up into Yohji's eyes, finding them locked on him, half-lidded and knowing as he watched him. Sultry, wanton, beautiful.
"Yes, that's it, Aya," Yohji groaned, licking his lips. "Do it."
And before he could think again, he was leaning against that raised thigh, guiding his own cock to that hidden place with a hand that shook ever so slightly. He pressed against that resisting ring of flesh, the way eased by the slick lubricant to a slow, even, inevitable glide, his gaze locked on the sight, watching as his cock disappeared relentlessly inside Yohji's body. He heard the deep, quick groan from above. Felt the sharply sucked in breath that released on a slow, shuddering sigh as he seated himself all the way inside Yohji.
Only then, when he was fully incased in incredibly tight heat, did he look up at his face.
The lean, golden body was arched up, impaled on Aya's, head tilted back, throat working with deep gasps. Yohji still held his hands up, but he'd locked them around the corner of the bed, skin gone white with strain. His arms trembled. His skin was flushed with a light sheen of sweat.
Yohji moved slightly under him, adjusting the angle of penetration slightly. Aya bit back a harsh groan at the sensation, holding himself still with great effort until Yohji was ready. But the other man still kept his head back, the pose abandoned, but isolating. Aya wanted to see his eyes. Needed to see the heat that he felt reflected there. Knew he was probably causing Yohji some pain, but he needed to see that too…
"Yohji."
"Shit… god… uhnn… Aya…" Not really speech, more reaction.
"Look at me, Yohji." Tone insistent. Almost an order. He couldn't hold out much longer. He needed to move. Soon.
"Aya… ah, god…"
"Look at me!" He snapped out the words and Yohji finally rolled his head down, sweat or tears running down his flushed face. The green eyes were practically black in the strips of light, the pupils dilated wide – either from pain or desire, it was hard to tell from the set of Yohji's face. But he could see him… see every reaction to his shift… see every flinch, every sigh, every wave of pleasure…
Aya leaned forward then, moving in him. Tight bliss. He sucked in a breath and Yohji groaned deep, biting at his lip.
"I'm hurting you." Not a question. But he couldn't stop his hips from flexing, from driving himself further in. Into Yohji. The groan was deep and the lean body arched up as Yohji cried out, sliding him out a little. His automatic reaction was to press deeper again, hissing against the heat, the tightness.
"Yes. Don't stop!"
Aya took that as permission, no matter how skewed, because he needed to. He began to thrust. Deep and smooth and steady, concentrating on the flex of his own hips, the power in his own thighs, the feel of Yohji sliding so hot and tight and slick over him, his mouth falling open on a soundless gasp. Dirty-blonde hair sticking to heated skin, arms flexing and pulling him up, his hard cock bouncing against his own and Aya's stomachs.
"Aya… unh… yes, Aya… oh god, Aya!!"
He moved one unsteady hand from Yohji's hip to grab his cock. Stroked it in time to his own deep thrusts as he listened to Yohji's moans turn to cries of desperate pleasure.
Beautiful. Unbelievably beautiful, the sight of Yohji in ecstasy. The idea came to him, suddenly and unwelcome, that he wasn't the first to see him this way. He wasn't the first, but he wanted to be the last. The only. He wanted to own this glory. Thrusting into lean, glorious bliss, Yohji's raised leg hooked around him, pulling him even closer. Satisfaction shot through him at the proof of pleasure. Aya wanted to have this all to himself forever… forever…
Below him Yohji was panting and groaning, twisting and sobbing. His hips rose to meet Aya's now, pulsing in time with the stroking of his cock. Suddenly, his eyes shot open and he jerked up with a hoarse shriek that might have been Aya's name as thick, hot fluid spurted over Aya's hand and across that taut stomach, staining the dark shirt with streaks of white.
Yohji clamped down on him when he came, shrieking and shivering and gasping. It was too much. Aya came too with a last heavy thrust, cry bitten off by clenched teeth as he pressed deep, releasing inside the other man's body.
He fell down over Yohji, twisting to the side as he released his leg. Yohji lowered it with a gasp, cradling Aya between his thighs. The motion made Aya slide out of him in a rush of hot slickness.
"Damn… ouch," Yohji hissed, his arms coming down to hold Aya against him. "Stings…" Aya just grunted, too lost in the remaining white haze of orgasm to be concerned.
Aya felt lips brush his forehead, press there. Felt the mouth turn up in a smile. Yohji's arms tightened around him, holding him close. He felt the wild beat of the heart under his cheek gradually slow, almost in time with his own. He could have slept for a few minutes, but he wasn't sure. He only knew he hadn't felt such a sense of peace in a long time. A very long time.
"Aya..." Yohji's voice was rough with spent passion and sated sin. Husky and deep and pleasing.
"Hn." Aya slid his arms around Yohji in return. Just in case Yohji was getting ideas about moving any time soon.
"...Never mind. Sleep."
Then as he drifted off, he thought he heard; "Bastard… Next time I'm on top…"
- - fin - -