It was late. Long legs staggered up the steps, as quietly as possible. Of course, it would have helped if the upper body didn't hit heavily into the wall more than once or twice. Yohji finally stopped and put a finger to his lips, "Shhhh! Want to wake the whole house? Baka!"
That lean frame accidentally slammed into Aya's door, the wind blowing from the willowy assassin's lungs, "Argh! Baka!"
Aya had woken the moment he heard Yohji stumble in. He could tell from the sounds that the idiot was drunk again. He sighed, turning over and trying to sleep. It was hard enough to sleep in this heat, without drunk blonds stumbling into walls at 3am. The crash as Yohji fell against his door was the last straw. He jumped out of bed, clad only in long loose silk pants, and flung open the door. "Damn it, Yohji. Can't you control your own body?"
The man in question was in the middle of lighting a cigarette as the portal opened. His slightly glazed eyes met Aya's reddened face before traveling inevitably lower, taking in the corded muscles of the younger man's chest and abdomen. Yohji's questing gaze was blocked, frustratingly so, by the silk pajama bottoms. The lit cylinder moved to the side of his mouth as he drawled out slowly, "Morning, Aya."
"No, Yohji, it's still night. Good night would be the right term." Aya tried to keep the look of disdain from his face as he took in Yohji's disarray. How the hell could the man look so good while looking so hedonistic? His pants rode scandalously low, a leather belt circling the slim hips, and an expanse of smooth skin was revealed between the pants and the crop top. A top made of mesh that concealed nothing.
Both long mesh-encased arms went over the golden-haired man's head as he stretched languidly. Throwing his head back revealed, at the side of his neck, a long smear of fire-engine red lipstick just at the neckline of the shirt. Yohji looked at the redhead and smiled felinely, "All alone tonight, Aya?"
The blond's smile and his smoky voice made Aya's body tighten. No, he wouldn't let Yohji get to him like this... no matter how deliciously wanton he looked, how much his body begged to be touched... Aya focused on the smear of lipstick as he tried to fight the arousal welling up in him. "Obviously."
Yohji leaned in close, green eyes studying his team mate, "Tonight, last night, the night before, and all the nights before that... Why do you do this to yourself, Aya? You could have just about any one you wanted in that bed," he murmured huskily, his gaze flicking over Aya's shoulder to the object in question in the room behind him. His tongue moistened his lower lip in a seductive sweep before he smirked, "Or are you bound and determined to prove that you are, indeed, asexual?"
Asexual was definitely one thing Aya was *not* feeling right then. He kept a tight rein on his arousal, however, lest Yohji glance down and see the true effect he had. He covered his desire with contempt. "Perhaps I don't feel the need to validate my own existence in someone else's arms."
By the lack of heated reaction, the barbed comment seemed to have gone over Yohji's head, "You can't be so cold *all* the time... I bet *I* could warm up that cold heart of yours." The beautiful assassin reached out and ran gentle fingers over Aya's frowning lips, "You're probably a wildcat between the sheets, aren't you? All teeth and nails and yowls of pleasure..."
Growling to cover the extreme temptation he was under, Aya pulled back. "Speculation, Yohji. A waste of time. Teammates shouldn't be lovers."
The words didn't deter the blond and he stepped in after the lovely redhead, "Nothing about that in the rulebook, Aya." The hand that had been touching the soft lips moved to the back of the shorter man's neck. The swordsman was pulled close, against Yohji's chest, and a warm mouth that tasted of smoke, liquor, and wanton desire descended on Aya's lips. The beautiful man devoured those lips hungrily, prying them open, tasting the sweet heat within.
Aya froze; this was just like a dream, one of his fevered late night fantasies. Yohji kissing him, Yohji touching him... he relaxed, almost returning the kiss, when he realized what he was doing. As much as his body may have wanted this, he could taste the liquor in the other man's mouth and he knew this overture was driven only by drunkenness. He didn't want it this way. He pushed Yohji away, glaring.
It wasn't enough to keep him back. That glare only made Aya look sexier. Yohji tightened his grip at the shorter man's neck and pulled him close again, "What happened? You were enjoying it, Aya... Why'd you push me off?"
"Let. Go. Of me. NOW," hissed Aya, channeling the desire he felt into anger. "Or I'll break your fucking wrist. You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing. Go sleep it off."
The anger in that voice gave the blond pause. He looked down, into those near violet eyes, studying them intently. When he spoke again, his voice was low and dripped with sensuality, "Would it be different if I were sober, Aya?"
Aya glared back, trying to ignore the pull of that sexy voice. "You'll never know, will you, Yohji?"
That little grouping of words sent a blaze of anger through the green-eyed blond. He took Aya's wrists in both of his and pinned them to the wall above the redhead. Yohji held them there as he looked over that beautiful lean body. "A pity, you know," he drawled out slowly, his voice lowering even more. He leaned in close enough that the other man could smell the mix of alcohol, cigarette smoke, sweat, and Yohji's own scent, "Someday... I'm going to break through that rigid ice... Then, maybe I'll see the real you."
Reluctantly, Yohji let him go and turned around, putting a cigarette to his lips as he went out the door, "G'night, Aya." Inside, the blond assassin was so much more unsettled than his outward appearance gave. He'd wanted to try a little taste of Ran Fujimiya for a long time and now... He didn't think he could get addicted to someone after only one kiss, but if Aya had been kissing back? He ran long fingers through his hair, "Kuso..."
Aya watched him go, cursing the feelings the beautiful man had awakened in him. His muscles were trembling and his cock ached, hard as a rock. Luckily Yohji hadn't noticed that. But now he was sweaty and horny and unable to sleep. He slammed the door and threw himself face down on the bed, moaning softly as he erection rubbed against the silk of his pants.
Further down the hall, another door closed much more quietly and Yohji leaned back against it. He took a long pull off his cigarette and closed his eyes. *Damn it all...* One hand reached down and undid the button fly of his jeans, releasing some of the constricting pressure on his erection. He'd been half-hard most of the night, but that little interlude with Aya had his body tense and as unyielding as solid steel. He looked down at himself, hanging out of the pants, and smirked. At least he could take care of this...
Aya groaned as he tried to ignore the pressure of his arousal. Damn Yohji... he rocked his hips slowly, trying to relieve the pressure. It only worsened.
The redhead's taste was still on his lips, on his tongue, and Yohji sighed. He moved to his bed, kicking off his boots, and sat down on the edge of it. Throwing his lean frame back, he looked at his cock standing upright over him and gave another little smile. One hand, the one that didn't have the cigarette, wrapped around it and gave a slow run upwards. Yohji was always amazed at how the flesh there felt - hard but as soft as crushed velvet. There was a low sigh as he repeated the action, making his body tingle with blinding need, "... Aya..."
Aya rocked again, his hard length caressed by the slightly rough silk, teasing friction not enough for release. He rolled over, pulling the drawstring of his pants, letting them fall open. The image of Yohji came to him unbidden, and he reached for his aching cock.
The clear honey of Yohji's desire rolled down from the tip, trailing a path over the backs of his fingers, and the hand moved again. The blond let pictures of his beautiful team-mate come to mind. The sight of Aya without a shirt never seemed to fail and, now that he'd actually seen it, Yohji was going to hold onto that mental eye-candy. His thumb rasped over the tip of his heated flesh, making him give up a harsh moan.
Gods... Yohji in those pants was enough to make a corpse hard. Did the man have any idea what he did to Aya? No, he didn't, because if he did, he would never have left. Aya tightened his grip on his hard cock, stroking slowly, imagining the blond's mouth on him. How did he know that Yohji would give expert blowjobs?
Arching his back, Yohji couldn't help but throw himself into the act of pleasuring his own body. He was a creature of sexual need. A body of nothing but nerves, hormones, and lust. His mind gave him images of Aya licking at his nipples, biting on them enough to leave marks, and the idea of it made him groan uncontrollably. His fingers tightened on that column of flesh, pulling more of his fluids to the tip, "... beautiful Aya... don't stop..."
Efficiently, roughly, Aya stroked his cock. He was thrusting up into his own hand now, pinching his own nipples savagely. Yohji filled his mind. Yohji's mouth, that smart, dirty mouth, wrapped around his cock, sucking, licking. Aya moaned more loudly than he intended. "Fuck... Yohji..."
Just once, Yohji wanted to see Aya brought to his knees, made crazy with passion. He imagined himself over the redhead, taking his erection into his mouth, sucking on it, licking it, scraping it with the barest hint of teeth. Yohji could only imagine how Aya would taste... He wanted that flavor so badly. His hand started stroking faster along his length, a little more roughly, dreaming that it was actually his team-mate's hand on him. He bit his lower lip as it began to build inside of him - churning, seething, coming to a boil.
Yohji thought Aya had no feelings.... but he had too many. Most of them about his golden haired teammate. But he couldn't give in, couldn't let his feelings show... because he could never tuck them away again when inevitably Yohji would tire of him. Aya stroked faster, breath coming in harsh pants, visions of naked Yohji in his mind.
Faster still, Yohji's hand nearly flew over his cock. So much need, all wrapped up in him, longing for someone to satisfy him enough that he could stop wandering from bed to bed. In truth, it wasn't nearly as many as he'd let his comrades believe, but that still wasn't too far off the mark. Yohji dreamt of Aya's mouth traveling down his chest, over the taut ab muscles, moving lower... "Oh, God, Aya... Please..."
Aya thrust into his hand, imagining it was Yohji's tight body, spreading his legs apart, so close... he wanted Yohji, wanted a chance to make him forget everyone else.
How he wished that tense body would yield to him. Yohji dreamt of rolling the redhead over, plundering the inner recesses of his body, making him shudder and cry out. To finally see that loss of control would send him over the edge. Just imagining it had nearly the same effect and Yohji arched his hips even higher, his cock rigidly pulsing, and white ribbons of need flew from him. His own breath caught in his chest as he tried to force his body to remember what the act of breathing was.
Aya stroked faster, so close he could taste it, taste Yohji still in his mouth... all he could think of was that hard body against his, how Yohji would look, naked and writing under him. He ran a hand over his nipples and that was it, he found his completion, biting his lip to keep from crying out the blond's name. His hot seed coated his own hand, pulsing still as an empty feeling came over him, alone again.
Staring at the mess that streaked across his pants, Yohji winced. He gave a little smile, though, because the fantasy he'd used was one of his favorites. "I'm going to have you, Aya," he whispered as he took the last drag off his cigarette, "And then we'll see just how cold you are... I still think I can thaw that heart of yours..."
Aya cleaned himself off, ashamed of himself for letting Yohji get to him like this. The other man would just love that he drove Aya to pleasure himself... He tried to steel himself against the gorgeous blond, but it was too late. Somehow, Yohji had managed to get under his skin.
Aya slammed the drawers and cabinets shut, not even trying to be quiet. He hadn't slept well and he'd be damned if he was going to let Yohji sleep in. The bastard. Aya wasn't sure who he was more angry at, the blond or himself. Now he was trying to make one goddamned pot of coffee, and he couldn't find anything...
A loud slam roused a certain bleary eyed assassin upstairs and he shook his head. Yohji cocked his head, listening for a few moments, and surmised that the object of his dreams last night was down in the kitchen... throwing a more mature version of a tantrum. "Childish," the blond groaned and rolled over. He wasn't going to let the redhead get to him this morning. Yohji rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.
Aya had moved to cursing aloud as he found there was no more ground coffee. So he dragged out the coffee grinder and plugged it in. He filled it with whole beans and pushed the button savagely. The grinder made a satisfyingly aggressive sound, and soon the coffee was suitably pulverized. It suited Aya's mood. He finished setting up the coffeemaker, then sat at the table to wait for it to brew.
His solitude was broken by a somewhat tired voice, "Aya? What the hell was all that racket?" Ken moved to the table and pulled out the chair, straddling it, "I have to coach the kids today and was hoping to get a little more sleep."
Aya glared at Ken, but tried to soften his voice. "Sorry. We were out of coffee."
Rolling over, Yohji growled in disgust. The redhead had gotten his wish. Sitting up in the bed, the blond grabbed his towel and took a quick shower. Then, he dressed in jeans and t-shirt. 'May as well run my errands since I'm awake,' he thought foully. Barefoot, the blond slowly descended the steps and went into the kitchen.
Aya refused to look up from his cup of coffee as Yohji walked in. He knew it was the blond, though, no mistaking those footsteps. He considered and discarded several biting greetings, and settled for silence.
"Morning, Ken," Yohji drawled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Aya didn't even look up at his entrance. Fine. Let the redhead be pissy. The blond took a seat opposite Aya and sipped his caffeine, "Someone care to explain why it sounded like the otaku invaded?"
"We were out of coffee." Aya said shortly. They were saved from further conversation by the entrance of the youngest Weiss member.
"Morning, guys!" Omi fairly bounced in. Then he took in the tension-filled room. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing," Yohji said, pulling his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and drawing one from the box, "Except a bunch of noise. Maxwell House wasn't what I woke to this morning..."
"Fuck off, Kodou. And don't smoke in here." Aya said shortly, waving away the smoke.
Yohji glared at him and took a deliberate drag from his, now lit, cigarette, "Aya, don't fucking order me around."
Aya glared at Yohji. "I'm just sick of you acting like you own the place."
Green eyes remained fixed on the cigarette, "I could say the same to you, Aya." If Yohji looked at the redhead, he was going to blow a gasket. He was irritable enough as it was. "Why don't you stop your fucking temper tantrum, Aya... I'm starting to think I'm living with a bunch of kids."
From his side of the table, Ken looked between the two of them, his blue eyes flicking back and forth, "Uh... Did we miss something here?"
Omi tried to interject. "Yohji, Aya, it sounds like you two have some issues... can we help?"
There was a derisive snort, "No issues... Just tired of the 'pissy princess' act that Aya seems so fond of." Yohji took another pull on his cigarette, still pointedly not looking at the second oldest team member.
"Yes, well, maybe I'm tired of the fucking 'playboy prince' dragging his ass in here at all hours, waking me up," snarled the redhead, slamming down his coffee cup.
Ken rolled his eyes and leaned over to Omi, "Sounds like Yohji was out late... again."
"My nocturnal habits are not anyone else's business." Yohji was starting to fume, but buried it. He didn't want Aya to know that he was getting to him this morning.
Omi nodded. "I thought I heard something last night. But Aya, Yohji isn't that loud, usually."
Aya snorted. "You sleep soundly, then, Omi. And your room is farther away." He turned to Yohji. "And you have now made your nocturnal habits my business," he said significantly. The other two boys looked confused.
The blond leaned across the table, "Oh? That worried about me, are you? Or is it the fact that I'm getting some and you're stuck home... alone... nightly?"
Aya smiled then, but the expression had no humor. "Maybe 'getting some' isn't enough for me, Yohji. Maybe I have some standards."
"I've got standards," Yohji growled, grabbing his boots and slipping them on, "My partners have to be clean. They also have to be perfectly willing. The slightest hint of drunkenness and I'm out." He tugged hard on the second boot, "Maybe it wouldn't hurt you to give in to your needs once-in-a-while, Aya."
"Clean and willing? That's not much of a standard. But then, I'm not surprised. Not all of us are slaves to our desires." Aya smirked, trying not to admire the blond's body as he bent over and the shirt pulled up.
"If you'd pull the stick out of your ass," Yohji said lowly, dangerously, "You might see the wisdom in it. Looks are fine, but you miss out on a lot if you just place looks as your deciding factor." He sat back up, "Right now, I don't see too many better options open to me... Or do you have some ideas?"
Aya looked steadily back, swallowing the response his body wanted to give, and just said, "No, I don't. Not one."
The look in the blond's eyes accused him; called him a liar. Yohji stuffed his smokes into his shirt pocket, "I didn't think so. So... All I've got are my little friends at the clubs." He drained the last from his coffee mug, "Someday, though, I'll have my loving wildcat and that'll be it."
Aya watched him, unreasonable anger burning through him. Anger at Yohji for tempting him, and anger at himself for being tempted. "Dream on, Yohji. And good luck. You'll need it." Aya stared barbs at the blond, willing him to get the message. "Nobody wants a player. Not after he's played out."
That was it. Yohji had had enough. He rose from the table and stalked towards the door like a sleek hunting cat, ready to spring. He was so tense, he might have if enough stimulus were provided. The tall man grabbed the doorknob savagely and pulled it, stepped through, then slammed the door so hard behind him that the windows rattled.
Aya sighed, slamming down his coffee cup and ignoring the stunned looks of Omi and Ken. Maybe he had gone too far this time. Guilt gnawed at him. He stalked out the door, catching Yohji fumbling with the gate's latch. "We need to talk."
Great... The King of Glaciers had followed him. That was the *last* thing Yohji needed, "Fuck off."
Aya felt an irrational anger burning up from his stomach. "Oh, right. You throw yourself at me last night then I'm supposed to forget it? How are we supposed to work together when you act like a slut all the time?"
His hands finally got the gate open and Yohji snorted at the words rolling out of Aya's mouth, "Some team when the 'leader' is an emotionally constipated prick." He didn't even give a backward glance as he smoothly moved to the other side. Yohji was *not* going to discuss this yet. He was *not* going to let Aya have his way - again.
Aya wasn't about to let the playboy off that easily. "Just because I don't fuck anything that doesn't run away fast enough doesn't mean I don't have feelings, Yohji." He didn't mean for his voice to drip that much contempt, but Yohji just had that effect on him.
"Sex doesn't equate to feelings, Aya." The willowy blond took his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Yohji shook one cylinder out and put it between his lips, then he patted himself down for his lighter. His hand dug into his back pocket and pulled it free. One quick burst of flame and his nicotine addiction was being sated, "I guess you don't really know me if that's all you think I am."
He flicked his eyes over the redhead and then turned, walking away. His boots resounded off the concrete of the sidewalk.
"I know exactly what you are," Aya spat, walking after the blond and grabbing his arm harder than he intended. "What you are is a emotionally immature jerk who doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself."
"Buzzz! Wrong answer!" Yohji pulled free of the grasp. Inside he was seething. Was Aya really so clueless that he thought that was all Yohji Kudou was?
But Aya wasn't going to be brushed off that easily. He didn't feel like letting Yohji walk away just yet. He pushed at the blond's shoulder, harder than he meant to. "So what *is* the right answer, then, Yohji? Please do enlighten me."
"Why the fuck do you suddenly care, Aya?" Yohji's voice was a growl as he connected with the wall behind him, "What fucking good would it be to 'enlighten you'?"
"Maybe I care about the group, Yohji. Maybe I care about the people we help," Aya snarled, turning his back. Then he added, more softly, "Maybe I care about...You are self-destructing, Yohji."
"Fine!" The blond came off the wall and spun Aya around to face him. His fist grasped the front of the other man's shirt and he shoved him back against the opposite wall, "You want to know?" He kept that annoying young man there, "How the fuck do you reach someone who's constantly pushing everyone away when they try to reach through the cold exterior? How do you get them to notice you?" Yohji paused and blew a lung full of smoke to the side before looking at him again, "How else am I supposed to get *your* attention, Aya?"
"My attention?" Aya growled, trying not to notice the feel of Yohji's body against his and what it was doing to him. He felt a curl of anger in his stomach, warring with arousal. "Why would you want MY attention? I'm a cold heartless prick, remember?"
Yohji leaned in close enough for Aya to smell his after shave, those emerald eyes glittering, "And I'm nothing but a selfish slut..." His voice changed, lowering, becoming huskier, "Maybe, just maybe, I want to be more than just a team-mate... Maybe, just maybe, I want to wake up to those eyes of yours and not see the ice in them... Maybe, just maybe, I want to see if you know what things like love, passion, and need are..." He let Aya go as suddenly as it began and started off down the sidewalk, "But... Maybe in another life. Ja ne, Aya."
Aya was left breathing hard, slumped against the wall, body already missing Yohji's touch. "What the fuck is going on with you? You think I don't know, Yohji? You think you're the only one who knows what passion is?" Aya went after Yohji again, pushing him against the wall, pressing into him hard with his body. "Think again."
"No." The assassin's voice was firm as he pushed Aya off of him, "Not like this. Not in anger or resentment." With a practiced gesture, he flicked away the last of his cigarette, "You take some time and think about it, Aya. Think about what kind of face you've shown everyone. There are certain games I *won't* play - this is one of them." Yohji gazed at him long and hard, pausing for a brief moment, "You come talk to me when you've decided to really open up, not before."
Aya watched him go. He wouldn't let it go like this. "Fuck you, Yohji. Fuck you and your dramatics. Fuck you and your need to be more *real* than everyone else."
A look was thrown over Yohji's shoulder at him, "I'm not being dramatic and I'm no more real than anyone else. I just refuse to let myself be overlooked, Aya." With that, the blond disappeared around the corner and was gone.
~To Be Continued~