Silence (Possession II) by paxnirvana
Rating: NC-17 Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Characters: Yohji x Aya Date Completed: 8/27/02 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 very bad.
I love Sarah McLachlan's voice, and her lyrics. They drip want and need and desire… And while I don't think many people have actually heard this song, it's one of my very most favorite of hers. *grin* Sarah makes great inspiration.
Dedicated to: Nekojita, again. Still for her "Violet Eyes" series. (Can you tell I love it?) And this time, I'm trying to make them steam. Did it work? *bats eyes innocently, but its soon spoiled by an evil grin*
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Project Weiß and various and sundry others who are not me. No Phase III happens at all.
* * * * *
Give me release - witness me I am outside Give me peace Heaven holds a sense of wonder, And I wanted to believe that I'd get caught up when the rage in me subsides In this white wave, I am sinking In this silence... In this white wave In this silence... I believe 'Silence' - Sarah McLachlan w/ Delerium
* * * * *
A large bundle of green cloth was dropped unceremoniously into his lap, startling him. He caught it with a quick grab before it could slide to the floor. Aya Fujimiya looked up sharply from his work at the back bench of the Koneko, a spray of fern clutched tightly in his free hand. The tall stool he sat on protested the aborted shift of weight with a soft shriek as he fought back the automatic urge to retaliate. Uncontrolled assassin reflexes in a retail shop could be a real detriment to business – no matter how much the pushy fool might deserve it.
But this interruption didn't come from some extremely rude customer, he realized as he finally recognized the slick fabric of Yohji's duster spilling over his lap. The one he'd worn last night. Aya turned slowly to face the presence he now sensed behind him.
Yohji was just shoving his sunglasses back up his nose with a long finger, a slight sneer curling his full mouth as he met Aya's glare over the dark lenses. Yohji's free hand was cocked on his hip in a faintly aggressive pose as he stared down at him. This was the first sight that Aya had caught of the other man all morning. He'd been watching for him but Yohji had managed to sneak up on him anyway.
Yohji's face was a little paler than normal, but his hair was clean and drawn back into a neat queue on his neck with just the usual loose bits falling around his face. He wore a subdued gold and cream patterned button-up shirt that might have been a size too small or just cut deliberately high to show off that flash of tanned skin at the waistline, given the low-slung mahogany-colored pants worn beneath it. The neatly turned down collar did nothing to hide the dark purplish-black mark high on his neck.
Aya found his gaze flicking briefly to that mark, a sense of deep satisfaction filling him at the sight of it. His mark. Yohji snorted and waved his hand languidly through the air toward him. He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and his lighter clutched in the gesturing hand.
"That needs to go to the dry cleaners today," the tall man said with a slight sniff, a faintly annoyed expression crossing his face before it faded into a small smirk. "You're paying."
"I am?" He raised a single forbidding brow at Yohji. Yohji just gave him a knowing smile in return, leaning closer until Aya could see the small lines of pain around Yohji's still faintly bloodshot eyes. Headache and hangover, of course. Had he taken anything for it? Eaten? And why the hell should Aya care?
"Yeah, Ayan, you are… since you wouldn't move off it last night," Yohji said, his voice a low, intimate purr that wouldn't carry beyond the confines of the workbench. The provocative words were almost lost in the background noise of the shop. No one could hear Yohji's words but him. Particularly not with Omi trying to hold a one-sided conversation with the partially deaf Mrs. Nakanishi on the far side of the shop.
Irritation flared at the deliberate use of the hated pet name, but Aya kept his expression carefully neutral. Yohji was annoyed with him. Of course, it might only be over the stained coat, but he somehow doubted that was it. There was the small matter of Aya having fucked the hell out of him while he was drunk last night. Something that Yohji might be very much regretting in the sobering light of day.
Green gaze met lavender; both sets of eyes narrowed speculatively. And Aya couldn't quite tell what that shadow was at the back of Yohji's eyes… annoyance, anger, anticipation? Yohji's lips parted after a moment and he looked about ready to speak again.
"Yohji-kun!" Omi called out suddenly, relief clear in his voice. "It's about time you got here… Nakanishi-san has been waiting for you all morning! Something about a centerpiece of pansies for her granddaughter's birthday party?"
"Ah, hai, hai," Yohji said in response, his lips curling up in a tight smile. They were still slightly swollen, Aya noted clinically, fighting the brief surge of his pulse. Yohji delayed turning for an instant to nod once more at the bundle in Aya's lap, a decided gleam in his eye. "Make sure to get the deluxe stain-removal treatment… that's pure silk, you know. Cost me 115,000 Yen straight from Paris."
Then Yohji whirled away, the cigarette miraculously vanishing into a breast pocket as he swept over to the slender old woman who was waiting for him, a fond smile on her face. Omi escaped their presence with a rolling of eyes behind the old woman's back. The boy normally got along quite well with the elders who frequented their shop, but Mrs. Nakanishi had a soft spot for Yohji and preferred to deal only with him. It made her rather testy with the rest of them.
"Ohayo, Nakanishi-san! You look extraordinarily lovely today. Is that a new handbag? Prada, isn't it?" Yohji spoke slightly louder than normal in deference to the woman's disability, making sure to face her directly and enunciate clearly. Which was probably why she enjoyed Yohji's presence so much. He made an effective effort to communicate with the proud old lady while still oozing charisma.
"Oh, Kudoh-san, you flatter me!" she said, reaching up to lay her thin hand on Yohji's cheek. "Why does an active young man like you know about women's things?" The tall man gathered her hand between his own, bending down to smile in her face.
"Because I am a connoisseur of all things beautiful, Nakanishi-san, and I can't help but notice anything that enhances your enchanting presence," he said, giving the old woman's hand a quick buss. She tittered like one of the school girls at the gesture, pulling her hand away with a nervous flutter and beaming up at Yohji like he was an angel.
Aya watched this display with ill-concealed irritation. Why did Yohji have to be so blatantly flirtatious? Even with an old woman like that, it annoyed Aya. No, more than annoyed him. It made him jealous. Envious. Not for what Yohji said and did, but for the focus and attention he showered on the old woman.
The kind of attention he never gave to Aya. Until last night… Last night when Yohji had laid back on that green fabric, heavy eyes watching him, arms crossed obediently above his head. Ready and willing for all that Aya chose to do…
Aya jerked to his feet, the slick coat held tight to his chest as he fought the suddenly urgent throb of his own blood, tried to deny the eager hitch in his breath.
"Deliveries," he spat at Omi as the boy turned toward him, a puzzled frown on his face. Aya stalked toward the storage cooler in the back of the shop, stripping off his apron as he went, the bundled coat shoved under his arm. He had to leave. Had to get some distance between himself and Yohji. Before he did something shocking and lost them good custom.
Because he didn't think Mrs. Nakanishi would ever forgive them if he hauled Yohji down on the floor and fucked him screaming right there in front of her and everyone.
"What? Now…? Oh… hai, Aya-kun," Omi said weakly from behind him as Aya stormed away
* * * * *
For months Yohji had thought he was dreaming a phantom lover. Vivid, heated fantasies of an elusive lover that lingered always just out of reach had filled his sweaty, restless mornings after every night he went out. Alarming, frustrating dreams, to be sure, but just dreams nonetheless. About red hair and violet eyes and hard lips that never smiled but that kissed with a passion he had seldom encountered before…
Aya.
He had thought he was seriously in danger of losing it, dreaming such things about his stoic teammate. Granted, Aya was absolutely fucking gorgeous – pale skin, deadly glares and all. Yohji had been willing to acknowledge that from the first moment he hauled the unconscious man up to his bed after Ken kicked the shit out of him as his little 'welcome wagon' to Weiß. Up to his own bed. Where Aya had woken surly and sullen and so very beautiful… It wasn't just anyone he'd grant that favor to, despite what the rest of them thought. Yohji Kudoh was far more discerning than that.
He had thought he was alone in his dreams and they had bothered him with their intensity and their persistence. But the simple fact that he was longing for one of his teammates disturbed him far more than the minor fact that Aya was male too. Sex was sex. The more the better… so why limit yourself to only half the population? While he hadn't made it a point to display his bisexuality – not when simple promiscuity raised the redhead's hackles so effectively, drove Ken to eye-rolling, spluttering fits and made little Omichitti blush furiously – Yohji had always swung both ways.
But then had come a night, more than a week ago, when he had stumbled home not quite as blind drunk as usual. Much like last night. On that night he had been vastly surprised when Aya came down to meet him as he stumbled through the back door of the shop at some ungodly hour – surprised more by Aya's calm attitude than his presence. He had expected to be yelled at for waking him up and subjected to one of Aya's frosty 'my aren't you a disgrace' lectures. He had not expected to be hoisted against Aya's shoulder with suspect care and hauled silently up to his room.
There had been a strangely perilous aura about Aya that night. A sense of anticipation. Eagerness, almost. It had caught at his always-boundless curiosity and kept him babbling drunken inanities as Aya helped him into his room and over to his bed.
Only his long experience with charming his way out of sticky situations on dates gone bad had enabled him to keep his cool when Aya had simply dropped down onto the bed after him, those strong swordsman's hands tangling in his hair, that normally cold mouth kissing him with both surprising familiarity and blatant hunger. It had sent his mind into a confused spin. Of course, he had still been pretty drunk and due to the breathless nature of heavy petting had soon passed out… By the sobering light of morning it would have been easy to dismiss the incident as just another product of his own perverse mind.
Except for one thing… This time there was evidence. Irrefutable evidence. Because this time he remembered that he had accidentally bitten his dream-Aya.
And the next morning, Aya's lip had been swollen ever so slightly. Even Ken had commented about it. While Aya had just brushed the small injury off in his usual terse way. But from that moment on, Yohji found himself paying more than normal attention to his stern teammate.
Because Aya had a secret.
Aya wanted him.
For the past week, he'd surreptitiously watched Aya. Circling. Calculating. Planning. Finally realizing, as he did so, just how much of the same treatment Aya gave him. It amazed him at how completely Aya had been able to conceal his attraction up to now. Alarmed him too. Because the desperate passion he had felt in Aya's kisses was incredible and bottling that up for too long… Well, self-denial wasn't something Yohji Kudoh felt the need to practice too often.
He had gone out only once during the ensuing week, but that time he had made sure to stay out all night. Coming home in the bright light of day to find a sour, angry Aya lurking in the shop – one who promptly delivered a blistering lecture on responsibility and duty… And all the while Yohji was hiding a grin of smug satisfaction to have his suspicions so easily confirmed.
Aya was jealous.
Aya Fujimiya was fucking jealous.
So Yohji had plotted his next night out carefully. Last night. He had dressed blatantly for maximum sex appeal, making certain to show Aya his outfit before he left. Then he had breezed out into the night alone, complaining about a lack of a date. All of his actions designed solely to put longing ideas in Fujimiya's thick head.
It had been happy chance that he stumbled across an old clubbing friend early in the evening. Kimi was a lovely woman who was also irrevocably committed to her long-time lesbian love – yet she was up for a bit of spice in her life. And so she had brought Yohji back to her apartment, introduced him to her lover, and the two of them had petted and teased him until he thought he was going to explode. But out of respect for their relationship, he had done nothing more. Though they had graciously allowed him to watch…
When he finally managed to tear himself away from their show, he had come home partially sobered, chivalrously frustrated and beyond ready for Aya's little performance.
And oh what a performance it had been. His ass still stung. But in a good way. It wasn't often that he played the uke, but for Aya it had been almost frighteningly easy. He hadn't been fucked like that in ages and the whole experience had been mind-blowingly satisfying. Right up until the part where he woke up – barely an hour later – all alone…
It had been unexpectedly sobering.
He'd expected something like that, at least. Aya had kept his little obsession secret for months now. One night of indulgence wouldn’t be enough to bring him out into the open, to get him to admit to human feeling, human need. Aya was a notoriously stubborn bastard. Except Aya wasn’t considering Yohji Kudoh, Master of Seduction's determination to get exactly what he wanted… and he'd been dreaming rather vividly about Aya's own pale, tightly rounded ass for most of the morning.
Yohji shot a sly glance toward the garage at the rear of the shop where Aya had just stormed off with the dubious excuse of deliveries to make. Running away, Yohji knew, and he felt rather smug about provoking the normally impassive redhead to that drastic step.
He turned his full attention back on Mrs. Nakanishi with a broad smile. The old woman smiled back at him, her sharp gaze passing over his face and only briefly hesitating on his neck. On the rather blatant mark Aya had left there. Which was exactly why he hadn't bothered to try covering it up.
"So very pleased with yourself you are this morning, Kudoh-san," the old woman said with a gently knowing smile of her own. "Perhaps there is a new, special person in your life that has made you so?" She fished discreetly, but she still fished. Yohji laughed, bowing over her hand again as he led her to the register to pay for the cheerful centerpiece he had created for her granddaughter's party.
"Not a new one at all, Nakanishi-san," he said with a secretive smile, letting his eyes twinkle merrily at her over his lowered sunglasses. "Just one that's been right under my nose for quite a while now…"
* * * * *
It had been a tactical error, retreat. Aya realized that now. He should have stayed in the shop. Forced himself to watch Yohji flirt and fawn over the customers as usual. Used his disgust over the other man's loose behavior to remind himself of all the reasons Yohji irritated him. All the reasons he should hate him. Should not want him… could not want him… but he did.
Because on the delivery route, alone in the little truck, his mind wandered back time and again to memories of the night before. To the sheen of Yohji's parted lips in the stark light. To the heat of his erection in his hand. To the slick, tight bliss of his body.
Furious with his own lack of control, his inability to direct his own thoughts, Aya lingered over the deliveries. Deliberately taking too much time at each until it was nearly time for the shop to close. His shift had been over hours before, but he hadn't wanted to return. His own hesitation angered him, unaccustomedly wild emotions swirling inside his head.
He wanted Yohji. Had wanted him for a long time. And last night, his wanting had been satisfied. But not completely. It had left him feeling strangely empty, waking from a light doze to find Yohji sprawled beside him, snoring gently. Reeking of alcohol and sex, half-dressed and covered with sticky stains. Looking utterly debauched and yet still achingly beautiful.
He had wanted him again. Wanted to see that lean form come alive with need again; make him arch and cry his name again. He wanted to hear those sounds forever. But guilt and the awareness of sin, his familiar companions, had surged up rabid and sharp. Driving him out of Yohji's bed and back to his own with the knowledge that he'd taken complete advantage of Yohji's drunken state – had gone far beyond the boundaries of trust given a teammate. Because despite Yohji's awareness of his identity, he still couldn't be certain that Yohji had truly understood what was happening. Or who he was with.
And that memory almost sent him into sheer rage. He didn't want to be one of many. He didn’t want to have to wait for his chances. He wanted to be the only one. To see the knowledge of that accepted every time he looked into those emerald green eyes…
It was already well after closing when he drove the tiny truck back into the garage behind the flower shop. Both cars were there; Ken's motorcycle was not. Aya climbed out of the truck, slamming the flimsy door with barely contained anger behind him. The sound echoed loudly in the silence of the garage. Echoed and changed into low laughter.
He turned, fists clenching at his sides, to find the object of his fixation leaning beside the door to the shop, a cigarette burning between long fingers. The waning sun filled the garage with muted light, falling down in dust-marked shafts from the high windows that lined the western wall. Until his eyes adjusted, it was barely enough to show him Yohji's pursed lips, his amused expression. For once, the ever-present sunglasses were absent.
"Running doesn't solve anything," Yohji said, faint laughter still coloring his tone. "You're gonna have to deal with me sooner or later."
Aya glared at him, drawing the remaining shards of his icy control about him. "I did not run. I was working."
"Huh, right," Yohji said, raising the cigarette to his mouth with deliberation. Emerald eyes narrowed and glittered as he opened his mouth, placing the pale cylinder against his lips, closing them around it and sucking in slowly. The end glowed brightly in the dimness. Aya felt his heart thud once heavily, sickly in his chest before increasing in pace. Transfixed, he watched Yohji breathe in the smoke from his cigarette, roll it around his mouth, and then send it back out in a thick, steady stream before he lowered his hand to his side again. He seemed to be content to just watch Aya in return.
The silence stretched. It had been impossible to tell, this morning, if Yohji was truly angry about what had happened or not. He seemed calm enough now, but then, Aya had seen that exact same expression on Yohji's face when the man was splashed with blood and gore, bodies scattered at his feet. Assassins generally made good poker players. The ability to divorce yourself from reaction was essential. Which just made Yohji's blatantly sensuous nature all the more attractive…
"Well, I know running when I see it, Aya." The low laugh came again, tempered now with sultry heat. "What, are you frightened of me now?" Aya didn't dignify that idiotic statement with an answer, but his gaze narrowed dangerously. Yohji pressed recklessly on. "The way you scampered out of here this morning I thought Schwartz was on your tail…"
The mocking comment snapped his already thin patience. Words he would rather not have uttered spilled from his stiff lips. "I left before I threw you down over the counter and fucked you right in front of our teammates and customers."
Dark blonde brows rose at that, amusement crinkling knowing eyes as a slight smile touched those sleek lips. "What makes you think I'd let you, Aya? I'm not drunk anymore…"
Aya could only stare at Yohji, the heat of frustration, of rage lapping at his icy exterior. Crumbling it. The stolen kisses hadn't proved to be enough. The long nights of waiting for those moments, futile. He'd tasted his true desire last night. Had sought to slake the craving, but instead it seemed he had only fed it. Yet possession was ashes without surrender…
Yohji straightened up from the wall, moving with languid grace toward Aya. Moving like he did when he was stalking a target; deliberate, measured, patient. The wire worked best from the shadows, from darkness, but Yohji was walking toward him through squares of golden-brown light that set his hair briefly aglow.
The smile on those lips was pure sin now. Knowing. Mocking. Filled with wicked promise. Yohji dropped his cigarette to the concrete floor, crushing it out carelessly beneath his boot as he glanced at Aya sidelong from behind strands of dusty-blonde hair.
"…So maybe it would have been you bent over the counter instead, Aya, ne?"
The idea shocked through Aya. Stopped his rage, his thoughts cold. And Yohji read his shock and laughed again, louder, the sound a rich ripple of amusement on the still air.
"Oh, hadn't thought of that yet, huh? Hadn't even considered that I might want to fuck you?" Yohji came to a stop a few paces away, partially framed in a fall of light. His eyes gleamed with dangerous promise. The pale shirt practically disappeared in the back light, leaving the lean body silhouetted to perfection. He shook his head in mock disapproval. "Aya, Aya, Aya… that's so narrow-minded of you." He lifted his head sharply, captured Aya's gaze again. "Does that mean you won't be my uke then?"
Aya's head jerked back at the question as if Yohji had struck him, but the honey-smooth voice continued without regard for his reaction, the other man advancing toward him one slow step at a time now. Heavy-lidded eyes fixed on his.
"I've been dreaming about you all day, you know. Wanting to see your skin in the daylight. Wanting to touch that sweet, hard body of yours with my hands… and my mouth. Wanting to find out how hot your mouth is when it's wrapped around my cock… Would you do that for me, Aya? Would you suck me off?"
The scaldingly explicit words swathed his mind with heat, confusing him. He hadn't expected… hadn't realized. Yohji exhausted and pliant and drunk was far different from this sultry, knowing man who watched him with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He'd seen him flirt before, but had never seen him actually in pursuit. The difference was overwhelming. Even more so because he had never expected to have it focused on him. Aya shook his head and blinked his eyes slowly, trying to shake loose some of the enveloping desire. His body shuddered with deep tremors.
"No…" The denial was a reflex, his expectations upended into chaos. Yohji wanted him too?
"Really? Too bad… I'll have to think of something else to do with your mouth then." Yohji gave a mock pout of disappointment, but the heat was still heavy in his eyes. Aya saw a brief flash of tongue wetting those lips as they parted, the sight sending a sharp pang of longing through him and he realized, in an unfamiliar burst of panic, that he was in far over his head. Yet he couldn't look away. Even knowing the danger, protective anger wouldn't come. He was drowning in the heat in Yohji's eyes.
Because all the longing, all the fire that blazed inside of him was unfocused. He wanted mostly without direction. Too long spent holding others away gave him few ways to express his need other than through violence and subterfuge. But Yohji… Yohji knew what he wanted… what was possible... what to ask for... what to demand. Aya's blood raced, his breath grew short. But that would mean…
Yohji was watching him, standing closer now. A little more than an arm's length away. And he could already feel the heat radiating from the other man… or was that him? Was he the one burning up with desire?
"Will you be my uke, Aya?"
This time he didn't flinch from the question, but he still couldn't answer. Yohji stepped out of the final patch of light into the shadows that held Aya. A hand rose and cupped his face, curving around his jaw, the heavily callused thumb brushing over his lips lightly. Aya shuddered at the touch. Voiceless. Need was a white-hot flame, searing him as he stared into emerald eyes. He wanted…
He didn't remember moving, but suddenly he was against that tall form, arms locked around slender shoulders, mouths meeting roughly. He forced his tongue into Yohji's mouth, urgently seeking his daytime flavors. Found them as smoke and coffee and oranges.
Long hands slid into his hair, steadied his head, and then eased the brutal assault of his mouth with determined strength. A groan slipped from him as Yohji slowly pried them apart. More low sounds – desperate sounds – could be heard in the silence of the garage. Were they coming from him? But not even embarrassment could overcome the heat inside of him.
"Easy… slow… hush…" Reality was an indistinct thing, coming to him in flashes. Murmured words in that liquid voice. A soft fall of smoke-scented hair around his own face as Yohji pressed their foreheads together. The burning feel of Yohji's hand around the back of his neck. "Aya… we've time. I made Ken take Omi to a movie. God, the chibi about fainted when I offered to pay. Are we really so stingy with each other?"
"I want to… I…I want…" He barely recognized his own voice, hoarse and raw, while Yohji's was still its familiar smooth purr. Aya kept his eyes closed against his own need. Where had his pride gone? Was he begging? Already?
"Oh, I know, baby," Yohji chuckled softly. The endearment made Aya's eyes flare open briefly with anger. Anger that faded as lean hips pulsed against his, pressing heat to heat. "I can feel you… but it'll be even better without all the clothes."
Aya's hands clenched tightly, holding on. He let his head fall back against the supporting hand on his neck, his mouth falling open on a silent gasp. He heard a hissed-in breath from the man beside him and then more liquid words emerged ensnaring him ever tighter in their spell.
"God, Aya! You look so good… That's right, baby… Relax for me… I'll take care of you."
The one hand stayed on his neck, cradling him, while the other skimmed down his chest. Finding the edge of his plain sweater with ease and sliding beneath. The first touch of knowing fingers to his bare flesh made him groan, his chin lifting higher. It was something he'd wanted for too long – Yohji's touch. As if he knew it, Yohji stepped closer, pressing their bodies tightly together from waist to knee, one of his own knees sliding between Aya's thighs like a brand.
"Shit… shit… god, you're hot, Aya. So responsive… I knew there was fire underneath… oh, that's right, baby…" The hand moved up his chest, found a peaked nipple and rolled it between eager fingers for an instant. Aya moaned, biting at his lip as stark pleasure streaked from that small point throughout his body, like electricity, the sensation hovering on the border of pain.
"Good – you like that. Some guys don't. I'm glad…" Then his sweater was pulled roughly up and bunched under his arms as Yohji bent down and fastened his mouth on that same nipple, sucking on it. Aya arched up with a sharp gasp, hands clutching at Yohji's head, his hair as tremors shook his body. His cock, already hard and aching, surged in his pants as his hips moved helplessly, rubbing against Yohji's encroaching thigh.
They were moving then, Yohji turning them, backing him up, all while his mouth was fastened to Aya's chest. The awkward motion shifted his cock against Yohji's thigh over and over again, teasing, taunting him. His hands clutched tighter at Yohji, his breath a gasping hiss, attention focused on the electric feel of his mouth. He felt something hard and cool against his lower back, stopping them and Yohji bent him back against it, pressing him down. Hazily he realized it was his own car. The trunk of his Porsche.
Yohji broke away from his torment of Aya's nipple long enough to grab his sweater and strip it off over his head with smooth economy. Then hands dropped back down to his chest, framing his rib cage as he bent back down to the other nipple, dirty-blonde hair falling around them both. Aya groaned, his hands locked on Yohji's shoulders. This time teeth nipped at his flesh and he shuddered at the glorious pain-bright sensation.
Yohji's mouth slowly drifted across his skin toward his neck, lips caressing, teeth grazing him with careful skill. With something solid to brace him against, clever hands were able to join the exploration. Cupping his sides, tracing his muscles, stroking down his body with long, possessive sweeps that made him gasp and shudder. All while lean hips surged slowly, rhythmically against his own. Aya let his head and shoulders fall all the way back against the car, the motion arching his lower body up almost painfully into Yohji's. Even that pressure not quite enough to assuage the burning need for closeness.
"Jesus, Aya…" The words were murmured against his neck, below his ear. Where his pulse thundered. "When you let go… you really let go…"
"Shut up," he heard himself say. "Kiss me."
Yohji's mouth closed over his after the barest hesitation. Moist heat. Velvet caress of tongue. A sense of connection. Aya's hands slid under Yohji's shirt, clutching at sleek skin with near desperation. Until, abruptly, it wasn't enough. He shoved at Yohji, struggling under his weight a moment until he shifted the other man to the side, breaking the kiss reluctantly. Then he was yanking at his own belt, his slacks. Stripping them away and Yohji's hands were helping him. Like last night. He kicked off his shoes with the pants, his stocking feet slipping slightly on the concrete floor until Yohji dropped down and pulled them off.
He looked down at the golden-brown head bent to the task and bit at his lower lip to keep from crying out his need. He wanted… he didn’t know precisely… but he wanted something from the other man… Yohji's hands skimmed slowly up his legs. Then he hooked his hands behind his knees as he stood up, his head lifting at the same time as he shoved Aya all the way up onto the trunk. Green eyes blazed down at him. His wide mouth twisted in a smirk as he leaned over him once more.
"I should have guessed you were the bikini brief type."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Aya gasped, faintly annoyed.
"Nothing… they don't hide much, is all…" Then a knowing hand stroked up his thigh to the nearly painful bulge under his briefs. Closed over it as Aya arched into the touch eagerly, moaning softly. A thumb swept across the exposed and weeping tip of his erection and lightning struck behind his eyes, the sensation enhanced by anticipation.
"Yohji!"
He wrapped his legs around Yohji's hips, pulling him closer. Ignoring the pleased chuckle for the breath-stealing feel of Yohji's hand first pushing his briefs aside then stroking his cock firmly and surely. Yohji's other hand slid up his body, along his neck to his face. Fingers teased at his lips and he turned toward them automatically, aching for contact. His lips parted and took them in. He tasted the salty-sharp flavor of Yohji's skin. Sucked eagerly on the two fingers Yohji gave him, rolling his tongue around them, darting it in between in exploration.
"Aya… god… open your eyes, baby…"
He hadn't even realized they were closed, but he let them flutter slowly open, lips stretched around Yohji's fingers, mind lost in the fire Yohji's other hand was creating down below with each slow, deliberate stroke. He looked into Yohji's narrowed eyes, saw the hungry gleam there.
"Oh, you look incredible… Suck those fingers, Aya… Get them nice and wet…"
He drew Yohji's fingers deeper into his mouth in response. Lips holding them, soft and caressing, tongue laving them carefully. After a long minute, Yohji pulled them away, eyes glittering at the soft protesting sound he made. The hand moving on his cock speeded up for an instant, making him groan and toss his head back, eyes falling closed again. He felt Yohji shifting against him, felt the other hand draw his briefs further out of the way. Then a warm hand brushed gently across his balls, curling into the warmth below. Damp fingers brushed the skin below, sliding slowly back toward his ass.
He tensed, faintly alarmed by the touch in a previously overlooked area, knowing what it meant, but the stroking of his cock felt too good for more protest than that.
"That's right, easy. It's okay, Aya. I'll take care of you… Make you feel good…"
Something teased at his opening, making him shiver and shudder. Because it did feel good. Shockingly good despite its unfamiliarity. Yohji's damp finger circled him slowly, firmly, all while his other hand stroked his cock. Aya shuddered and groaned in reaction. Then Yohji paused in his strokes, making Aya surge up in disappointment for a moment only to collapse back down on the trunk of the car, panting desperately. Suddenly the finger was pressing relentlessly inside of him, making him clutch at Yohji's shoulders wildly in response to the new sensation. Impaling. Hard. Stretching. Reminding him of what he'd so enjoyed doing to Yohji last night but had never fully considered having done to himself...
Yohji groaned too, his head falling down against Aya's chest. "God, you're tight. You've never done this before, have you?"
The finger moved in him, making him gasp. Yohji's breath was hot against his skin. Eager. Hungry. Demanding an honest response. "N-no."
"Then you probably don't really know about… this…" Yohji's finger had been moving deeper, and now he turned his hand slightly, crooking his finger inside, seeking something… With a choked shout, Aya jerked up closing his arms tight around Yohji. Stunned. Panting. The finger moved against something inside him again sending that same electric-bright pleasure shooting through him again, his hips moving in one long roll toward Yohji as a long gasping cry left him. "That's the magic spot, all right, isn't it? Do you like that?" They were laughing, teasing words that made him want to curse, but he had no breath for it.
Another deft touch and Aya arched up high again, head tilting back, neck bared in ecstasy. Bewildered by the power of it. A pleased chuckle rumbled the chest bowed over his. "Oh, yes. Now do you see, Aya? The rewards of being uke… Imagine my cock hitting that over and over again…"
His mind blanked for a moment, imagining just that, then, to his horror, the touch vanished – the finger sliding out of him carefully. The loss dropped him back down limply onto the trunk where he sucked in short, almost sobbing, breaths. The hand on his cock remained, but stilled, simply holding him. He forced his heavy eyes open, looking up into Yohji's wickedly grinning face.
"I'm going to fuck you, Aya," he announced, eyes dark in the shadows but glittering faintly with dangerous promise as the last of the sun faded away. "Got any problems with that?"
"Hurry up."
"I guess not!" Yohji reared up, head tilting back as he gave a genuine laugh at his growled words, clever hands releasing his cock and moving to cup Aya's hips, sliding over his skin possessively. And he was so damn sexy despite his amusement that it was easy to stifle the impulse to murder him – because there was the promise of fulfillment there too …
Then Yohji reached around and pulled something out of his back pocket. A fat tube fell with a solid ringing smack onto the sloped glass of the rear window beside him, sliding down to rest against his arm. Lubricant. The same tube. From the drawer beside Yohji's bed. "Good preparation is essential."
"Bastard," Aya hissed, annoyed equally by the delay as well as Yohji's smug expression. The imprecation just drew more laughter as hands skimmed his briefs off his legs, tossing them aside. He was naked now. Naked and sprawled across the trunk of his own car… And he'd thought Yohji debauched last night…
"Careful, Aya. I'm one who's going to be inside that virgin ass of yours soon…"
Aya lunged up, locking his hands around Yohji's head and pulling them together. Lips met hard before melting against each other after an instant's resistance. Tongues tangling, sliding. Moist heat overwhelmed him and the complex, sometimes foul taste of Yohji that he was fast coming to realize was something he couldn't live without. The kiss went on, desperate, consuming, until Aya was forced to break away to breathe. Yohji was gasping as well, but he took the opportunity to push Aya back down on the trunk, his hand firm in the center of his chest. He went without resistance.
The trunk of the car was faintly cool beneath him, but he didn't care. He lay back, looking up at Yohji from heavy-lidded eyes and lifted his hands up above his own head, crossing them at the wrists, mimicking the position he'd put Yohji in last night. The flare of green eyes told him Yohji realized it… and appreciated it. Aya suddenly felt exposed, self-conscious. As if that small move, done instinctively, had been a kind of admission…
Yohji leaned over him, one hand braced on the trunk near Aya's hip, the other hand working at his belt as his gaze raked over Aya's body. Lips parted. Soft, persuasive words emerged.
"Put your feet up on the trunk too."
Aya complied slowly, the move making him feel even more exposed, arms outstretched, feet braced on the edge of the trunk. Yohji's eyes gleamed. "Spread your knees wider…"
Aya's breath caught at the liquid heat in Yohji's eyes as he stared down at him. At his rigid, aching cock. At his exposed scrotum. At the flinching hole beneath.
He felt bereft then. Adrift. Yohji wasn't touching him any more, just looking, and without that contact doubt began to creep in. Was this right? Did he want this? Shouldn't it be Yohji spread on the car like this instead of him? But he couldn’t make himself move, pinned by the heat in Yohji's gaze and his own aching need. Aya heard the jingle as Yohji's hip-hugging belt fell to the floor, then the rustle as he unfastened his pants. Mild reassurance came in the harshness of Yohji's breathing, the hiss as he eased himself carefully out of the confining leather.
Aya looked down his own body, between his raised thighs to see the hard length of Yohji's erection beyond. He groaned at the sight, letting his head fall back on the trunk. Yohji was as big as he remembered and brief, visceral fear raced through him, his pulse thundering in his ears. How could he take all that? The fear was followed by a surprising eagerness. It might hurt… no, it probably would… but he wanted to try… wanted to feel that inside him against the place Yohji had shown him a glimpse of already. Paradise… ecstasy… oblivion…
Yohji reached across him, hand brushing his taut stomach. Aya bit at his lower lip to keep back a frustrated cry as he was only reaching for the tube of lubricant. He closed his eyes. Heard the cap flip open and the wet sound of the slippery stuff being squeezed out. A considerable amount from the sound. Anticipation mixed with fear was shortening his breath. His lungs ached because he couldn't draw deeply enough.
He could hear the distinct sounds of lube being spread on flesh; wet, sloppy, messy. He braced himself, expecting a rush to the end, then. Expecting Yohji to slam home inside him as he had done to him last night. Waited for it…
Instead, he was shocked into a low cry and a startled twitch when the first place Yohji touched was the taut curve of his ass, just below his thigh, where the big muscle gave way to the marginally softer flesh of his buttocks. Stretched now by the way he held his legs up, but still discernable. Yohji stroked that place several times, letting his hand spread over the hard muscle then ghost down to the join, tracing the scant dip of flesh over and over again until Aya began to relax, to enjoy sensation again as the traces of panic drained away.
"God, this is the best part of the body… male or female… the place where your ass hits your leg. The line is so subtle… like directions to heaven…" Yohji's voice was husky, almost reverent as he stroked Aya's skin with a steady hand. He could hear wet sounds too, but didn't feel any moisture. Finally, hazily he made the connection that Yohji was stroking himself as he stroked Aya's ass. His eyes cracked open and he stared, entranced.
Yohji still had his shirt on, to Aya's dismay, but it was cut short – as most of Yohji's shirts were – and so didn't really obscure the tantalizing view of Yohji's hand stroking his own cock as it jutted out from the wide open fly of his dark pants, glistening and drenched with lube. The sounds hit Aya harder then, making him moan slightly. His hands clenched into fists but he kept them above his head, pressing down on the metal beneath him to keep them there. His thighs trembled in the effort to keep them balanced open as well when all he wanted to do was wrap them around Yohji's hips and pull their bodies tightly together.
"Yohji…" His name a whispered plea, edged with frustrated anger.
"I know, Aya…"
Yohji released his own cock, and both hands were on his thighs then, one cool with lubricant. Slick fingers traced along him to the tender skin of his groin, making him shiver slightly as air struck the lube left behind. He arched up into the touch, groaning softly with need. Lifting himself toward Yohji. Wanting contact. Pressure. Something. His cock twitched against his own belly, pre-come oozing from the tip in a glistening line.
"Yohji…"
"Easy, baby, trust me." His voice was low, husky, laced with gentle amusement. "I know what I'm doing here."
Frustration and need made him snap, "Don't call me that."
Low laughter again as the slick hand cupped his balls briefly, the other hand moving up to rest on his belly and press his hips back down, the side of the wrist brushing Aya's erection. Teasing him. Aya groaned, lost in wanting. His arms trembled, his hips surged against Yohji's hold.
"I'll call you whatever I want, baby. Relax. You're not quite ready for me yet…"
Then the slick fingers were against his ass, pressing in firmly. Two of them. Making him gasp and groan in mingled satisfaction and shock. It didn't hurt, exactly, but neither did it feel good – until Yohji turned his hand, spreading more lube around, the slippery sensation of unaccustomed fullness sending a shiver down Aya's spine. Before he could quite adjust, Yohji grabbed his cock in the other hand, stroking him in time with the slow slide of fingers in and out of his body. Aya arched up, shuddering, caught between the more familiar stimulation of his cock and the new feeling of fullness. Awareness narrowed to electric points of contact. He cried out, head thrashing between his raised arms.
"Oh, beautiful… lay back down… yeah, relax, Aya… that's it," Yohji said, voice blurring with a rising edge. "God, you're an amazing sight." There was a growing harshness in his voice. As if the sight and feel of Aya impaled on his fingers was breaking down his control.
While Aya was struggling to keep hold of what control he had left. The slick motion inside of him, the slow, deliberate exploration of his body, and the sprawled, exposed position all combined to generate a sensual heat and near-blinding fire in his mind that left him short of breath and sheened with sweat. Each pumping movement felt planned, deliberate – there was no ragged half-motion, no awkward pauses. Yohji was skilled. Knowing. Considerate. A partner who would not plunge into satisfaction alone. As on missions, he could trust Yohji to watch out for him… the idea coaxed him to relax even as it drove him up, enticing him to surrender to it. To surrender to Yohji.
"Yohji…" The name spilled from his lips, low and husky. It drew the green gaze to his. Opened heavy lids for a moment in a hot flare of appreciation. The fingers withdrew from his body slowly, making him part his lips to release a short cry of disappointment, crossed wrists trembling as he struggled not to reach out and pull him back. His body throbbed and tingled, on the brink of something more than simple orgasm. There was more here, waiting; he knew it. He wanted it with a power that was starting to alarm him. He wanted…
"What you said… Last night, Aya…" The words were soft as Yohji stepped closer to him, his body brushing against Aya's raised legs as he bent over him. Aya felt a new slick heat between his legs. A hand guided what had to be a cock to his slicked, prepared opening. His eyes stayed open, fixed on Yohji's face while the other man looked down between them, concentrating. The green gaze flickered up to his then. Aya gasped, caught, as there was no pause, just a slow, hard push. Yohji held his gaze as he impaled him. To his dazed surprise, the pain was minimal; there, but tangled and lost in the tingling fire of being filled. Yet Aya suddenly felt as if something was being pulled out of him by that glittering, knowing gaze even as he was being possessed. Fear stirred, doubt crept into his mind. Did he know what he wanted…?
"Ah! You're tight!" Yohji leaned over him, letting the motion drive him further into Aya, crushing him down on the trunk of the car. Aya groaned, deep and long, as his body finally began to protest the unfamiliar invasion even as his mind spun into a dark haze of confusion.
"Last night you said, 'mine', Aya. Did you mean it?"
He was aware of the question, but couldn't answer as his body tensed, unconsciously attempting to reject this intruder despite the heated desire he still felt. Yohji held immobile in him, braced on his elbows over him, the lean form tall enough that he could just reach Aya's mouth with his own.
"Shh, easy, baby. Aya, relax. It'll be so much better then… Let me show you." Words feathered against his lips, almost lost in the harsh, pained pants coming from his own mouth. His body tried to arch away, rejecting this surrender even as his heart reached for it; his mind in a whirl of surprised pain and stalled desire, tormented by Yohji's words and his own rising fears. What had he wanted…?
"I can't… I… Yohji!" The name a sharp cry as his tormentor lowered himself further, pressing their bodies together, trapping his erection between them as he framed Aya's face with his hands, wrists lying over Aya's straining arms, stilling the involuntary thrashing of his head.
"Yes, you can, Aya-love," Yohji said gently, hooded green eyes staring into his own, strength and something frightening in their depths… something he couldn't look at any more. Aya closed his eyes. "You can and you will. Because you said 'mine' last night… and this is most definitely part of 'mine', baby."
Skilled lips closed over his, stealing any protest he might have made. Sending his mind whirling again; desire and guilt and fear and longing tangling up in pain and need. Flashes of perception struck Aya, blindingly fast, overwhelming him. The car was cold and uncomfortable under him. His hips ached subtly from being spread apart by Yohji's. His hands were going numb from holding them up. And his body… his body was on fire from the hard, motionless length of Yohji buried deep inside of him.
He was lying naked on the narrow trunk of his own car. Vulnerable.
Impaled. Covered. Silenced.
This was surrender. This was possession. This was…
Yohji lay over him like a blanket, warm mouth working at his. Filling him with his tongue, coaxing, stroking. Aya's arms trembled. He felt a cold trickle by his ear and realized suddenly that he was crying. Silent tears. His breath hitched deep in his throat and Yohji pulled away, stroking his damp hair back gently, looking down at him with a tenderness he'd never seen before. Had never expected. But seeing it…
"It's okay, Aya," Yohji whispered. "I'll take care of you."
…what he wanted.
"Yes." He pressed up against Yohji's hands, bringing his shaking arms down to wind them tightly around Yohji's shoulders as his body relaxed under Yohji's. Pain fading before bliss as he wrapped his legs around Yohji as well, his hips rolling back and sending Yohji even deeper inside of him. Accepting him. Feeling only a kind of satisfied mindlessness as he held the golden body of his lover tightly to him. A welcome blankness of mind that allowed the desire to flare up white-hot and urgent.
"God!" Yohji groaned deeply, his eyes flaring wide. Too experienced, too knowing not to understand what the sudden slackness of Aya's body meant. He leaned back, lifting off Aya's chest, gaining both leverage and breathing room even as he gasped out, "You won't regret it, Aya-love. I promise you."
"Fuck me, Yohji. Now. Do it now." His voice unrecognizable. A thing of raw desire.
"Whatever you say, baby." Then Yohji began to move. Hard. Deep. Hands braced beside Aya's chest, Aya's hands clutching his biceps. Cock striking something inside over and over again that made Aya's mind and body flare with savage pleasure each time. His legs wrapped tighter around Yohji as he was first rocked and then – as Yohji's confidence in his acceptance, his surrender grew – pounded against the trunk of his car. He could hear the metal flex and bend under them, sense the sway of the shocks in time with the strength of Yohji's thrusts. But all he could feel was the thick, hard length of Yohji sliding in and out of his body. Slick and hot and unerring. Striking deep at that kernel of ecstasy. Striking deep into his vulnerabilities.
Striking deep into his heart.
And he shattered then. Arching up, a broken cry torn from him as he pulled himself against Yohji. Rising up even as his head fell back, throat aching, pulse pounding. Eyes wide but seeing nothing. Pleasure such as he'd never experienced before fountaining through him, centered on Yohji impossibly deep inside him, on Yohji cradling him close, on Yohji crooning to him soothingly even as his cock spurted wildly between them. Coating them both in his hot, sticky fluid.
With an answering guttural cry, Yohji convulsed over him, driving deep one last time, lean hips sending another flaring explosion of pleasure through him. Yohji's hand slapped down on the slanted glass beside them, bracing them both as he swayed dangerously on his feet, body shuddering, mouth open.
Aya would have fallen back then, limp and spent, on the trunk, but Yohji's arm cradled him and held him up for a moment. Just held him, trembling faintly. Then Yohji laid him down carefully even as his cock pulsed deep inside Aya's body, the involuntary movement sending little glittering whirls of after-shocks though sated nerves. Yohji groaned, but Aya could barely manage that, he was so drained.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Aya," his lover gasped above him. Aya managed to pry one eye open at the sound of his name. Looked into brilliant green eyes that were still glazed with the aftermath of what they'd done together. He wanted to reach up and drag that clever mouth down to his. Wanted to taste Yohji again but he was still trying to make certain that his heart hadn't exploded and all his limbs worked. The kiss would have to wait.
"Impossible," he breathed, the faintest smile touching his lips.
"What?"
"Jesus is Christ. How can He fuck Himself?"
"What the hell? Aya?" Yohji almost goggled at him, his astonishment plain. "Did you just make a joke? Now?!"
He let the unaccustomed smile bloom on his face. Raised shockingly strengthless hands and tangled them in Yohji's dirty-blond hair. "I'm feeling rather – what was that ugly American song? – 'closer to God' at the moment."
Yohji smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Gotta love Nine Inch Nails."
"They're modest too, I see." Aya felt curiously light. Relaxed in a way he hadn't even managed last night when he'd fucked Yohji. Right now he couldn't even imagine letting the other man move away from him, much less leave his bed. Except they weren't on a bed. They had just fucked like animals on the trunk of his car. And his back and legs were starting to inform him of that fact rather strenuously.
Yohji shifted them, sagging down against the Porsche's rear window, trapping Aya's thigh rather awkwardly against the glass, but managing to keep them together for a few moments longer despite his rapidly softening state. Aya curled against his chest with a sigh, tucking his head under Yohji's chin.
"Um, Aya?" Something in Yohji's tone made him tense slightly. Guilt. "Promise you won't kill me?" Fingers threaded into his hair, combing soothingly through it behind his ear for a moment before tilting his face up. Green eyes flickered away from his sleepy gaze.
"Why?" he asked with only the faintest hint of suspicion in his voice. He still felt too relaxed, too sated to draw the full strength of his usual hostility around him. The evils of the world and their sin-filled lives would bring it crashing back soon enough. For now he wanted to enjoy the moment. The warmth. The connection.
"Just promise, huh?"
The lips on his were warm and persuasive. It was blatant manipulation, but he didn't care. So when Yohji finally drew away he all but purred, "All right."
Yohji eyed him for a moment longer. Warily amused. "I think we… uh… dented your trunk?'
"What?!"
"Now Aya, you promised!"
"SHI-NE!!"
- - fin - -