Authors note: There’s actual KenxOmi sex in this one. Pass on by if that squicks you

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- SHOWER FIRSTS -

Omi tapped his fingers on the edges of his laptop, silently cursing the speed—or, rather, lack of—of dial-up. But this motel didn’t have high speed and there had been no wi-fi to hack into. So he was stuck using one of the many bogus dial-up accounts he had so he could check the anonymous forums and such for any word from Aya and Yohji. He didn’t expect to find anything. The agreement was that they wouldn’t contact each other for a week, but he worried so he checked just the same.

He shucked his jacket and headscarf as he waited, tossing them to one side of the bed in the general direction of his bag. He sat in the middle of the bed in loose jeans and a t-shirt, legs crossed and laptop before him. One bed for him and Ken. He had great hopes for the night, provided he didn’t find out anything bad about Aya and Yohji.

The forum came up and he scrolled through the recent messages for a familiar call sign. Aya and Yohji had about a dozen each, as did he and Ken. Although, he mainly looked for Aya’s. Neither Yohji nor Ken ever remembered them all unless it was in a pinch.

Of course they were in a pinch.

He tried his best to ignore the sound of the shower from behind the closed bathroom door. Ken was in there. Ken was naked. Ken was wet and clean. Omi had to struggle to recall out why he was out here in the next room.

He smiled. Ken. He licked his lips, summoning the memory of Ken’s taste. It had really happened. And would have gone further if it wasn’t for whomever was following them.

Yeah. Right, he admonished himself, turning his concentration back to the laptop. That’s why he was out here. Ken actually had invited him into the shower but he’d declined—reluctantly—deciding he needed to use the time to see if Ayan and Yotan were okay.

There was nothing to find on the main forums. Either Aya hadn’t gotten a chance to log in or he couldn’t. Omi tried not to dwell on reasons for the latter.

The shower stopped.

Omi’s heart thumped. Calm down! He told it, hands flying over the keyboard as he left a forum post of his own, using key words in his text to let Aya know that they’d been followed and that the assailant had a gun. He puzzled over how to phrase that the weapon was a tranquilizer gun. He glanced at the bag on the table that held the weapon he and Ken had taken off the man. It looked like a regular gun, but inspection had shown it to be loaded with small, heavy darts, not bullets.

He finally figured out the best way to say it and typed. He had just finished and was logging off the laptop when the bathroom door opened. “No word from Aya or Yotan,” Omi said aloud, forcing himself not to look until he’d unplugged the phone cord.

Moist, warm air assaulted him, carrying with it the scent of cheap motel soap. “Let’s hope no news is good news.”

Omi shivered. Ken’s voice purred.

He finally turned to look and froze at the sight. Ken stood in the doorway. Or, rather, leaned. He had both hands gripping either side of the doorjamb and both feet planted on the threshold. Holding on, he was leaning forward. The muscles of his arms bulged nicely as he held his weight. Just about all of his lovely, tanned skin was visible. Only a white towel wound around his hips hiding Omi’s special treat. His damp brown hair stood out at all angles, testament to his having scrubbed it with a towel. The heavy spikes of his bangs tried and failed to hide the heat in his deep, dark eyes. He was smiling.

“Hey.”

Omi swallowed, unable to stop his eyes from devouring the sight of the man. “Hey.”

“You done with the computer for the night?”

Omi nodded.

“You going to take a shower?”

“I… uh…”

Ken’s grin kicked up a notch. Letting go of the doorway, he kind of poured out of the bathroom toward Omi. He came to stop standing right at Omi’s knees. “You should take a shower. It feels good to get the forest dust off.”
Omi watched, transfixed, as Ken dropped to his own knees and reached for Omi’s sneakers. “Yeah,” he said, voice breathy. “You’re probably right.”

Ken nodded, tugging Omi’s shoe and sock off before picking up his other foot to do the same. Omi’s gaze went to the knot at Ken’s hip that held the towel in place. It looked to be loosening.

Ken stood. Omi’s guess had been right. The knot gave way and the towel slithered to the floor.

Omi didn’t even realize he was reaching with both hands for Ken’s beautiful, half-hard cock until Ken’s hands caught his wrists to stop him. He whimpered protest and looked up into smiling brown eyes.

“Let’s get you wet first.”

He tried half-heartedly to twist from Ken’s grasp. “But…”

Ken’s lids lowered halfway over his eyes. “I want to wash you.”

–*–

Ken took heart in the way Omi’s cornflower blue eyes opened wide, mirroring the small “O” of his cute little mouth. I must be doing something right, he told himself, before willing his inner doubt to shut up. Just going with what he felt almost always served him well. It was when he started trying to think that he usually fucked up.

He held Omi’s hands away from his body, even though his skin burned for the touch of those nimble fingers. His dick certainly protested and twitched against his leg to tell him so. Slowly, he leaned down to bring his lips to Omi’s. He enjoyed the way Omi’s eyelids fluttered mostly closed as he got closer.

“I want to run my hands over every inch of you,” he murmured against Omi’s lips.

Again, he must have been doing something right because Omi whimpered and eagerly pressed up into an open-mouthed kiss. They stayed like that for moments and Ken had to fight the urge to shove Omi back on the bed and forget the shower. But the thought of sliding his hands all over wet skin kept the urge at bay.

He pulled back, having to push Omi away slightly to free his lips. “We need to get you naked.”

Omi snatched his hands from Ken’s loose grip and those quick hands ripped his t-shirt off.

Ken stepped back, the sight of his slim, toned chest distracting him.

Omi stood, deliberately pressing bare chest to bare chest as he gained his feet.

Ken forgot to step back to give him room so the fingers that started to unfasten Omi’s jeans brushed Ken’s growing erection. He hissed.

Giggling softly, Omi caught hold of Ken’s dick and squeezed.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Omi breathed, leaning in to brush his lips over Ken’s collarbone. “I couldn’t resist.”

Ken tipped his chin down and nuzzled Omi’s ear. “Shower.”

“You’re already clean.”

“So? I want you wet.”

Omi let go of his dick and gave an interesting wiggle. Distracted by the feel of those hands, Ken didn’t immediately recognize the move as one of clearing jeans from hips. By the time he figured it out, Omi’s arms were winding around his neck, pressing the full length of Omi’s front against his.

God! Ken’s arms automatically wound around Omi’s slight waist.

Omi nipped his chin. “Then let’s go.”

“Go?”

Omi laughed, kissing him quickly before pulling away. “The shower was your idea, Ken.”

He blinked, then mock growled. He grabbed Omi’s wrist. “Right.” He turned back toward the warm, moist air of the bathroom. “Let’s go.”

–*–

After his initial distraction, Ken took his “washing” duties very seriously and resisted all of Omi’s attempts to distract him. He washed Omi’s hair—a decadent experience that Omi had never before experienced—then used his hands and soap to bring every inch of Omi’s skin to life. He started with Omi’s neck and shoulders, languidly kissing the shorter man as he did so, then let Omi watch as he lovingly massaged the length of each of Omi’s arms down to each fingertip. He slid soapy hand over Omi’s chest and belly, tickling his navel and tracing his hips. He slid his hands into Omi’s groin, catching Omi’s mouth as the blond groaned when he “cleaned” Omi’s cock. Hot water rinsed Omi’s sensitized skin as Ken knelt to wash his legs. Unfortunately, Ken would only nuzzle and kiss the tip of Omi’s cock as he knelt there, despite Omi thrusting his hips in invitation.

He turned Omi around and told him to brace against the shower wall. Omi bit his lip, staring at the dingy yellow tiles. Was he going to…?

Hot hands slid over Omi’s back and waist then strong palms gripped and cupped his buttocks. Omi went up on his tiptoes instinctively, moaning.

“Omi.” Ken’s chest brushed Omi’s back. His cock slid lightly along the top of Omi’s butt, fully hard. “I want…

I’m not entirely sure what I want.”

“I know what I want.” Omi wiggled back into those hands, that cock. “I want you inside me.”

“Won’t it hurt?”

“I… don’t know. Probably.”

Soapy fingers slid into the crack of his ass, tickling his anus. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Omi arched. The fingers felt good. “It can’t be that bad. Tons of men do it all the time.”

A blunt fingertip found his opening and circled it. “Do you know what to do?”

“I-I’ve never… ah!” He lost track of everything as Ken’s finger started to slowly push in.

They were silent a moment as Ken worked his finger in. “Hurt?”

“N-not really.”

“But some.”

“I don’t care. Ken, I want you.”

He cried out when the finger left him, but sighed happily when two strong arms slid around him from behind, pressing his back against Ken’s front.

Ken nuzzled his neck. “Maybe we should do this in bed.”

Torn, Omi tried to think. This felt so good, wet skin to wet skin, but Ken was probably right. Their first time should probably be in a more comfortable place. He nodded. “Okay.”

Ken didn’t release him immediately. One hand dropped down to circle his cock.

Omi cried out.

“Want you,” Ken murmured, grinding his cock into the crack of Omi’s ass as he used his hands to squeeze sanity out of the shorter man.

Omi cried again when Ken suddenly pulled back and spun him around, but he quickly recovered, throwing his arms around Ken’s neck to get lost in a tongue-sucking kiss. Ken let him control the kiss, busy adjusting his body so that his groin aligned with Omi’s. Enough so that he could grip both of their cocks together in one soaped up fist.

Oh god! Omi panted, nursing at Ken’s mouth as Ken’s hand drove him wild. He pumped into Ken’s tight fist, blown away by the feel of Ken’s cock sliding against his.

Ken ground into him, into his own fist, his other arm strong around Omi’s back, braced between him and the shower wall. His strength held them up as he started to lose control. Omi heard his own name chanted from Ken’s lips as he lost control of the kiss. They pumped together, lost in the rhythm, the feeling.

Ken came first, tensing and thrusting hard against Omi. His grunting of Omi’s name as well as the death grip on his cock brought Omi’s orgasm.

They stood there underneath the cooling water, getting their breath back.

“Sorry,” Ken murmured. “I needed to…”

Omi shook his head, burrowing into Ken’s neck. “Don’t be sorry.”

They managed to get out of the shower and mostly dried off, although there was a lot of touching and caressing as they did it. When they fell into the crisp, clean sheets atop the hard, motel mattress, it was with damp hair, damp skin and partially reawakened erections.

Ken stopped their kiss and pushed up on his elbow by the younger man’s side. He let his gaze slide down Omi’s naked body, trailing calloused fingertips over Omi’s taut belly. “Omi, I… I’m not sure what to do.” Uncertainty was clear in that expressive face.

Omi reached up and caressed the side of Ken’s face. He smiled. “I guess this is where it’s handy that I did watch the porn Yotan accused me of.”

Ken’s eyes went wide in shock, making Omi laugh as he rolled out from under his lover toward his bag.
“You did?”

Omi sat on the edge of the mattress and unzipped the bag. “Well, not that much.” He dug around inside. “No one can watch as much porn as Yohji accused me of and still get work done.”

Ken snorted. “Except maybe Yohji.”

Omi laughed, wrapping his hand around the bottle he was looking for. “Maybe.” He turned around, twiddling the bottle for Ken to see. “Have you ever watched porn?”

Ken blushed. “Well, straight porn.”

“Any gay porn?”

“No.”

A cold flush ran through Omi’s blood as he stared at Ken’s averted eyes. “Ken, are you sure you want to do this?”

The heat in Ken’s gaze when he looked back up was reassuring. and arousing. “What? Yes! I just… God, Omi, before you there hasn’t been a guy I wanted.”

Omi crawled across the bed, pressing his face into the warm crook of Ken’s neck. “Not even Aya?”

Ken pulled back so he could look at Omi’s face. “Huh?”

Omi sighed, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress. He played with the bottle of lube he held in his lap, watching that instead of watching Ken’s face. “I saw the way you’ve looked at him lately.”

“What?”

Omi shrugged. “It’s not that I blame you. Who can’t look at Aya and want him?”

Ken knelt in front of Omi, his now half-hard cock immediately visible to Omi’s downcast eyes. Strong hands cupped Omi’s face, tilting it up so he had to look into Ken’s earnest eyes. “I don’t want Aya. Way too much angst for me to handle.”

Omi tried to fight a smile. “I have my own supply of angst, y’know.”

Ken leaned in to place a gentle kiss to Omi’s brow. “Yeah, I know. We all do. But Aya… makes an art of it.”

“He’s been better lately.”

“Yeah, he has… Hey wait a minute, why are we talking about Aya?”

Omi bit his lip. “I just don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“You make me happy, Omi. Touching you, being with you. God, it’s amazing! I would never have thought it could be like this.” He brushed a quick, soft kiss over Omi’s open mouth. “Just tell me what to do. I want to make you feel good.”

“Ken…” Omi breathed.

They kissed, a long, slow exploration of lips and tongue. Well into the kiss, Omi boldly reached out and flattened a hand over Ken’s cobbled midriff, loving the way the hard muscles quivered under his touch. He slid his hand down to find the burning, leaking rod of Ken’s erection, swallowing the moan that guttered from the man’s mouth as he wrapped his hand around Ken’s cock and pulled.

“Shit, Omi!” Ken growled, bracing his forehead against Omi’s.

“You need to fuck me now,” Omi decided.

Ken nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Omi tilted up for another, brief kiss. “Is it what you want?”

“Yes.”

Ken’s husky tone went straight to a place low in Omi’s belly, making his balls tingle. Letting Ken kiss his lips, Omi blindly popped the top of the lube. He poured a generous amount onto the fingers of one hand and rubbed them together to warm them up as he sat back.

Ken stayed on his knees, watching Omi’s wet fingers avidly.

Fighting embarrassment, taking heart in the heat in Ken’s gaze, Omi turned over onto his knees, his ass presented to Ken.

“Omi,” Ken groaned. His hands gripped Omi’s hips as Omi reached back and found his own opening with wet fingers. “Oh man, Omi.”

Omi groaned as he slid one finger inside and pressed. “I’m getting myself ready for you, Ken.”

Ken’s palms slid over his waist, his back, his buttocks, but most of Omi’s attention was on his own fingers as he carefully pressed another inside.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. I’ve just got to… stretch.”

“You’ve done this before.”

Omi was glad Ken couldn’t see his face and the flush that surely took his cheeks. “Yes. Just my own fingers.”

He was aware of the bed moving and of Ken’s hands leaving him. He heard the lube cap pop open then closed a moment later.

Ken’s dry hand gently pulled Omi’s hand. “Let me.”

Omi gulped, but let his hand be pulled away. He moaned, pressing his face into the pillows when Ken’s finger pressed in.

“Oh God, Omi, you’re tight.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Stop asking, Ken. I’m sure. I want this more than anything.”

Lips brushed the top curve of one of his butt cheeks. “Okay. Tell me to stop if you need to.”

He nodded, clutching the pillow. Ken had no idea. Yes, he’d fingered himself before, but each time he’d pictured Ken doing it to him. Fingers, cock, maybe one day tongue, he didn’t care, just so long as Ken was inside him. And now, he was. Very carefully, Ken pulled out his finger to the first knuckle, then pressed back in. Omi rocked back. “More.” Another finger pressed in and Ken carefully pumped both. “More!” A third finger and Ken hesitated when Omi hissed, but pressed in again when Omi moaned.

Omi took it for as long as he could, breathing and moaning into the pillow beneath him. Soon enough, he was pressing back into Ken’s fingers, needing more.

“Ken, please, Ken,” he panted, turning his face aside and hugging the pillow. “Please fuck me now.”

Bless him, Ken didn’t ask if he was sure. Fingers left Omi and he wiggled impatiently as Ken uncapped the lube again. Omi couldn’t resist a glance back over his shoulder to watch Ken coat his dark erection until it glistened.

Mine! The surprisingly vehement thought pulsed through Omi’s mind as he watched Ken palm himself.

When Ken knelt up to position himself, Omi had to turn back around, biting the pillow underneath his head.

Ken dragged the head of his cock over Omi’s opening a few times. Then the fingers of one hand clutched one side of his butt and the blunt head of Ken’s cock pushed.

Omi cried into the pillow as the head breached him. The sweet burn set fire to the base of his own cock but he avoided reaching for it. Not yet.

Ken paused, squeezing Omi’s hips until it almost hurt. Then he pressed forward, slowly, easing his way into Omi’s body.

Omi hissed. Ken stopped. Omi clutched the pillows, fighting to adjust to the beautiful invasion of his body.
When he was certain he was okay, he pushed up to his elbows and turned his head. “More,” he begged.

Groaning, Ken clutched his hips. He pulled out a little, then pressed forward more, working his hips a bit to push his girth inside.

Omi heard Ken’s name and distantly realized he was chanting it, begging, demanding. He wiggled his own hips, working with Ken’s until he finally felt the tickle of Ken’s pubic hair tickling his ass.

He was all the way in.

Ken leaned in over him, hands falling to either side of Omi’s elbows. “God, Omi,” he groaned, “you feel so…”

Omi nodded, reaching out to twine his fingers in Ken’s on the mattress. “Please, Ken. Move. I need… ah!”

Ken pulled back and a delicious scrape inside Omi made his cock jump. Ken pulled out partway and pushed back in, rubbing that delicious spot.

“Omi.”

“More. Please.”

Ken picked up pace and Omi saw stars. He clutched Ken’s fingers, aware of the mewling cries that came out of his throat but completely unable and unwilling to suppress them.

Ken was really fucking him now, his hips slamming Omi’s ass. Omi had never felt anything better. He rocked back into Ken, slamming back just as hard as Ken thrust forward. It built, it soared. So centered on the feel in his ass, he nearly forgot the one in his cock. Until said organ swelled and filled, his balls tightening.

Horrified, he realized he was coming without either of them touching his cock. It touched off in his spine and surged into his cock and out onto the sheets beneath him. He shuddered and cried, his body clamping down on the gorgeous invader that fought to keep hammering him.

But Ken lost the fight. As Omi collapsed, Ken stiffened, thrust twice more, then came in a heated wash deep inside Omi.

They rolled to their sides in a sweaty, panting heap. Ken’s cock spilled from Omi’s body, but they remained pressed together. Omi cradled Ken’s hand to his chest. Ken wrapped his arm around Omi’s shoulders to keep him close.

Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

There’s sex in this one

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- NO DISTRACTIONS -

Yohji woke to a burning urge to pee and a cottony head. The lack of headache and alcoholic taste in his mouth told him it wasn’t a hangover. Still…

Oh yeah, right. You were shot. Last thing he remembered was being in the backseat of that car and dropping the box of darts while…

“Aya?”

No answer. Then again, he probably hadn’t’ been very loud or coherent since his mouth was half buried in a pillow. Summoning strength, he pushed up, bracing on one elbow.

He as in a relatively small, sparsely decorated room that had one curtained window and two doors. One of the doors was ajar to reveal pale yellow tile and part of a mirror, hinting at a bathroom. The heavy, dingy red and gold curtains were parted ever so slightly down the middle, enough to let him guess that the light coming through the crack was sunlight. Yohji turned, tangling his legs in the white sheets of the bed, the room’s largest piece of furniture. There was also a table and three chairs and a battered dresser. A small refrigerator sat beside the dresser with a double burner plate on top of it. His bags and Aya’s were up against the wall beside the bathroom door. His mission coat was draped over one of the chairs, with his jeans and what might be his shirt keeping it company on the seat.

“Aya?”

Again no answer. No sound other than a faint whine of the refrigerator and a slow drip from the bathroom.

Alarmed, Yohji spun again, now realizing that he was naked. In bed. In a strange place. Alone.

“Ay…?”

A note lay on a small table beside the bed, written in Aya’s spiky scratch on a piece of paper with a motel’s logo on it: Went to get food. You’re safe here. Stay put. A.

Yohji had to smile. Okay, so the note wasn’t incredibly romantic, but Aya had put his cigarettes and lighter right next to it. How thoughtful. Yohji laughed as he got up to go pee. Of course, Aya also knew that, of anything, Yohji would definitely find his cigarettes.

He stumbled a bit on his way to the bathroom, still groggy from the sedative. Groggy enough that after he’d relieved his bladder, he tumbled back into the bed and curled up to sleep some more, without even bothering to light up.

Aya was there when he woke again. He opened his eyes just as the redhead was taking off his black t-shirt.

Yohji hummed happily, hugging the pillow underneath his head. “Now that’s a sight to wake up to.”

Aya threw the shirt aside and came to sit on the bed with him, just out of arm’s reach. “How do you feel?”

Yohji sat up, yawning and stretching. He managed to hide a grin when he caught Aya checking out his bare chest. “Tired kinda. But I’m okay.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “Where are we?”

“Motel in the middle of nowhere. Cleanest and most secluded place I could find.”

“I take it we weren’t followed?”

“Not as far as I could tell.”

“Was there anything in the car that was helpful?”

Aya’s full lips twisted in a grimace. “No. If I trusted contacting Kritiker the types of darts of the registration of the guns might do something but…” he shook his head, staring at the abstract painting over the dresser.

“Hn.” Yohji winced at the sharp pain in his arm. He turned it over to take a look and saw the healing scab.

“You okay?”

He turned back to violet eyes. Concerned eyes. Concern for him. He smiled. “Yeah.”

Silence for a moment as they gazed at each other. Yohji let his eyes go seductive, pursing his lips a bit. He started to let himself lean slightly forward.

Aya blinked. Stood. “Hungry?”

Yohji frowned. Aya hadn’t touched him. Well, hell, you didn’t touch him either.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward onto all fours and crawling to the foot of the full sized bed. Not nearly as big as he’d like it to be, but at least it wasn’t a twin.

Aya had his back to him, rummaging through some bags of takeout. Yohji admired the sleek pale skin of his back, liking how it smoothed over chiseled muscle. The jeans rode low so he could also admire the graceful taper of Aya’s chest into his waist. The sweet dimples just above the not-quite-visible curve of his ass. Yeah, he was hungry. Food would probably be good, but right now he wanted to take a bite out of Aya. His cock agreed.

Aya turned around, a carton and a pair of chopsticks in each hand. He froze at seeing Yohji. The look on his face was blank. Not exactly what Yohji was hoping for.

Yohji cocked his head. “Hi.”

Still no visual clues. Aya just kept staring. “Hi.”

“Something wrong?”

“What?”

Yohji grimaced and pushed up onto his knees. He saw Aya take a look at his naked self. He was pretty sure he just saw a twitch in the bulge in those pants. He held out his arms. “Kiss me.”

Aya didn’t move. Violet eyes averted and Yohji’s blood went cold. What the hell…?

“We shouldn’t,” Aya mumbled.

“Why?”

“We’re…”

“You said we weren’t followed.”

“We weren’t.”

Yohji studied Aya carefully. He refused to believe Aya was brushing him off. He wouldn’t believe. He wasn’t done with Aya so Aya couldn’t’ be done with him. It was just that simple.

“Then what is it?”

Aya didn’t answer.

Where the hell did the sex kitten go and who invited the ice prince back? Ice was all well and good when their lives were on the line but… But… Damn it! Yohji had a deep, abiding need for life affirmation after he’d killed someone and sex was the best life affirmation that he knew.

He crawled off the bed, only wincing slightly at the burn in his arm.

Aya kept his eyes averted. Bit his lip.

Aha! The lip biting was a good sign. The ice prince wouldn’t bite his lip. Abyssinian wasn’t uncertain. Ever. Aya, however…

Yohji took hold of each carton in Aya’s hands and took them away, reaching around Aya to place them on the table. Aya stumbled back into the table in a useless attempt to avoid touching him.

Yohji ended up with both hands leaning on the table to either side of the object of his obsession, his face inches away from the other man. Pink lips snarled just a bit and sooty lashes formed lace on high cheekbones as Aya kept his eyes hidden. Long, crimson hair fell in a sheer curtain across the left side of his face. “God, Aya, you’re beautiful.”

Aya turned his face away, failing to hide the pained look. His hands gripped the table’s edge just inside of Yohji’s.

Yohji reached up to brush crimson hair from pale cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t…”

“Why?”

“I can’t…”

Yohji brushed his lips across one pale cheek, marveling at the soft perfection of the man’s skin. He heard Aya swallow. “Can’t what?”

Aya tilted his head back and Yohji took advantage and bent his head to delicately taste the warm skin just under Aya’s ear.

“Yohji…”

“Fuck me, Aya.”

Aya shook, rattling the table. “Stop.”

“Can’t.” He slid his hand into Aya’s hair, cupping the back of his skull. He brought his other arm to circle Aya’s waist and stepped into him so that his wakening cock brush the waistband of Aya’s jeans. Warm chest brushed warm chest. “Want you too much.”

Aya gripped his waist, feebly trying to push him back. “Yohji, stop.”

“Why?”

“I… can’t. Not when we’re…”

He nipped at Aya’s chin. “What?”

Strong hands came up to grasp his shoulders and push. Yohji hissed as the move stretched the wound on his arm, but he managed to keep his arm around Aya’s waist and his hand tangled in crimson hair.

Violet eyes seared into his. “We’re on a mission.”

Yohji shook his head, instinct telling him to hang on and hang on tight. “No. We’re running.”

Aya scowled. “No difference for this. I can’t maintain control if you’re…”

“If I’m what?”

Calloused fingers bit into Yohji’s shoulders. “God, Yohji, you’re distracting enough as it is! If we keep sleeping together I’ll lose it and one or both of us will get killed!”

Aya tried to shove him away but Yohji anticipated it. Was kind of shocked that he did but he wasn’t going to question it now. He held on and yanked. Aya fought—badly—and ended up banded in Yohji’s arms anyway, bare chest to bare chest. Yohji fisted his hand in silky hair and forced a punishing, open mouthed kiss on Aya. Aya’s hands slid up into his hair, knotting, pulling. Yohji sank his hand down the back of Aya’s pants and squeezed one silky buttock.

Aya groaned. The hands in Yohji’s hair stayed knotted but ceased to pull. Yohji kept kissing him, devouring that delectable mouth. He squeezed his handful of ass tighter, digging his fingers into the crevice between cheeks.

Aya tugged his hair and he was enough off guard to let go. He stared hungrily at Aya’s wet lips.

“Yohji, stop.”

“Not a chance.”

“But…”

“Do you honestly think not fucking is less distracting?” He wasn’t thinking straight but realized he was going to need some words. He had a feeling Aya was trying to regret their ever having slept together and that simply could not happen. Wasn’t allowed. Not in Yohji’s book of rules. “I don’t know about you, Aya, but if I can’t have you I’d be more distracted.”

That gave the redhead pause. He stared at Yohji’s nose, licking his lips, thinking.

Stop it! Yohji let two fingers gently caress Aya’s hidden entrance, gratified to see Aya’s eyes flutter. “I’d be thinking about this tight little hole and be aching to be inside it.”

Aya groaned. “Yohji…”

“Or have you inside me again.” He licked his lips, making sure Aya watched. “That was hot, Aya. Do it again. Fuck me.”

“Stop it.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yohji.”

“Fuck me.”

“Whore.”

Yohji couldn’t contain his grin, even though it made Aya scowl. “Just yours, baby. Your whore.” He bent his head toward Aya, gratified when the fingers at his scalp allowed it. He hovered, his lips just above Aya’s. “Fuck me.”

Aya’s fingers massaged his scalp. One strong jean-clad leg wrapped around Yohji’s thigh. “This cannot distract us, do you understand?”

He was going to nod but Aya’s hold in his hair tightened.

Aya’s gaze bore into his. “I will not have you die. Do you understand?”

Time froze. Yohji’s heart stopped. An echo of a gunshot and a woman’s cry of pain sounded somewhere in the back of his brain. His heart exploded in renewed pain. Violet eyes, pale skin and crimson hair filled his vision.

He swallowed.

“Understood,” he said with difficulty over the lump in his throat. He squeezed the silky hair in his own hand. “Same goes for you.”

Aya grunted then hauled him into a soul searing kiss. Their tongues dueled for dominance, each of them losing and winning even though it hardly mattered.

Yohji stumbled back, still wrapped in Aya, and tumbled onto the hard mattress behind him. Aya fell on top of him, breaking the kiss only to lavish oral attention on his neck, shoulder, chest. His roaming hands slid over Yohji’s arm and he flinched when Aya skimmed over the wound, but it was a minor twinge. Yohji hissed when Aya found a nipple and bit into the hard little nub.

“Aya…” he sighed, caressing his lover’s silky back as the redhead commenced a journey southward toward the place that was aching for him.

–*–

Aya hovered, lips over Yohji’s cock. The salty, musky smell of the man filled his nostrils and the heat of his skin burned Aya’s palms.

“Aya.” Fingers in his hair nudged him toward the twitching, leaking cock that lay on that perfect, golden abdomen. “Aya, please…”

Aya glanced up into hot, pleading jade eyes.

Then pushed off the bed.

“Aya!” Yohji surged to sit. “Damn it…!”

“Need lube,” Aya grunted, hardly daring to talk. Words and sense were failing him. He’d tried to be good, tried to keep his distance, but he was a moth to Yohji’s flame. Now that he’d tasted, he couldn’t get enough. Yohji was right. Abstaining wouldn’t make it better. It might make it worse.

“Oh.”

He heard Yohji behind him but didn’t look. Couldn’t look. He tore open the zipper of his duffel and yanked clothing out until he found the little bag he was looking for. Inside was the bottle he needed. The liquid that would smooth his way in heaven.
When he turned, he was thankful to still be on his knees because the sight would have made them buckle. Yohji lay back on the bed, head on the pillows, knees bent and spread, hand slowly stroking his hard on. His tiny, dark opening peeked at Aya from underneath his balls. Jade eyes and generous mouth grinned at him. “Fuck me.”

Aya growled, climbing to his feet. He tossed the bottle on the mattress beside Yohji. “Keep saying that and I won’t be able to go slow.” He put his hands to the button of his jeans.

“Mmmm,” Yohji grabbed the bottle and quickly poured some liquid on his fingers.

Aya froze as the blond dropped his hands down between his legs and circled his own hole.

“Then don’t,” Yohji purred, pressing the tip of one finger inside.

Aya’s hands shook. “But you’re…”

“So damn hot for you I can’t stand it,” Yohji finished for him, slowly pressing in another finger.

Did the whimper come from Aya or from Yohji? Did it matter? Aya loosened the button and zipper of his jeans, mesmerized by watching Yohji finger himself.

“Aya, hurry.”

Aya blinked, realizing that he’d stopped moving as Yohji eased in a third finger. He smiled. “Feel good?”

Yohji grunted. Eyes closed and biting his lip, he looked too damned sexy for words. “Not as good as your dick, if I recall correctly.”

“Hmmm.” Aya knelt on the bed, reaching for the lube.

Yohji’s eyes opened.

Aya poured lube on his palm. “Let’s see if I can’t refresh your memory.” He capped the bottle, threw it aside, then wrapped wet fingers around his aching cock. “Unless you prefer your fingers…?”

Yohji grunted and pulled his hand back. He grinned a cocky little grin then, to Aya’s continued surprise, grabbed his legs behind the knees and pulled them up. “Fuck me now, Aya.”

Aya positioned himself and leaned in that little bit to rub the tip of his cock against that tiny little hole. “Greedy slut.”

“Mmmm, you know it.”

Aya pressed forward.

Yohji hissed.

“You okay?”

“Mmm, yes. More please.”

Aya had to chuckle, willing try a bit of levity to distract himself from the heavenly press of Yohji around the tip of him. He pressed forward more and had to groan. “Yohji.”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh… wait!”

Aya paused. Watched as Yohji wiggled, releasing his legs to brace them on Aya’s shoulders.

“Yeah. Okay now.” Green eyes found his. “More.”

Aya went slow, stopping only once more at Yohji’s behest before he was in to the hilt inside Yohji’s hot body. “Yohji.”

Strong fingers dug into his hips. “God, yes. Yours, baby. Fuck me. Remind me.”

Remind me. Aya pulled back slowly, echoing Yohji’s groan. Mine! He pushed forward.

“Shit! Yeah. Aya!”

He looked down to find Yohji working his wet hand on his own cock. Was thankful. He wanted to do it, but he was having trouble not coming. He adjusted one leg, wrapped an arm around Yohji’s thigh and picked up the pace.

“Oh God!” Yohji arched into him. “Oh man, yeah! Aya!”

Push, pull. In, out. Stroke of constricting flesh against sensitive flesh. Hot and warm and, oh god, too good. Pumping hips. Slap of slick hand on Yohji’s cock. Yohji’s gold hair flayed out on the white pillow. Yohji’s eyes closed and mouth open. Aya’s hips snapped forward, uncontrollable. In, out. Fuck yeah! Oh god…!

Aya froze, mouth open on a soundless scream.

“God, Ayyyyaaaa!” Yohji groaned beneath him, flesh milking, extending the orgasm out of Aya’s cock.

Aya’s lungs labored on breath. He felt the sweat on his skin now, making the thigh he clutched in his hands slippery. He cracked open his eyes to see the pool of white on Yohji’s slim, flat belly. He met smiling jade eyes.

And smiled.

No matter what came, Yohji was his.

Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

*************************************************

- TO CATCH A KITTEN -

Aya rolled his white coat up in one of his bags as Yohji retrieved the locked metal box from its hiding place in the ceiling. Aya told himself not to look, but it was utterly impossible to resist watching that midriff shirt ride higher up that ridged abdomen. Despite the vivid, pleasant ache in his ass, his dick twitched and his mouth watered with the urge to take a bite out of Yohji’s side.

Resolutely, Aya turned, trying to summon his icy reserve. Sleeping with Yohji might have been a huge mistake. It might have been a good thing if they were normal people, or if their former lives truly could be laid to rest to allow them to “retire”. But such didn’t seem to be the case and Aya knew he needed to put Abyssinian firmly in place for the sake of their survival.

By the time Yohji jumped down from the chair, Aya almost had himself in check. He was careful to move around the table when Yohji crossed to his own bags. Touching the blond, he knew, would be his undoing.

Yohji deftly tucked the bag away then swirled his mission coat up and around behind him, making the damn thing flutter like a cape as it gently settled around his body. He shoved the sunglasses over his ears, then perched them atop his head, swung one bag around his chest so that it settled on his back and shouldered the other on his left arm. When he turned toward Aya, his face was set in its own cool mask. Balinese was different than Abyssinian in that he maintained a small grin, but there was nothing in that smile that any enemy could take comfort in. People who discredited Balinese because of his seeming easygoing manner often paid for that mistake with their life.

Abyssinian settled his own pack on his back and bag over his shoulder, clutching the katana in his left hand. He nodded when he was ready.

Balinese mirrored the nod, then led the way out the window.

They hugged the shadows, keeping to alleys as Balinese led the way to the car lot. Stealing a car wasn’t a permanent solution but it would get them out of town.

He ran different possibilities through his head as he tailed Balinese. He still hadn’t figured out what the best plan was or when they should contact Krittiker. Or if they should contact Krittiker. It was a mission for them, after all, which had put them on this path. Or had it. Either Krittiker knew of some entity gathering data on Weiss or had sent them to plug up a hole. But no, the last couldn’t be true. No one had been killed on that mission. Abyssinian’s presence had been purely for protection.

Who was gathering data on Weiss? And why? Who even knew for sure that they were still alive? In hindsight, Aya had wondered why Krittiker allowed them to keep their names. They’d even provided Yohji with another Seven, which was highly suspect.

Why hadn’t Aya thought about this earlier?

You didn’t want to. He didn’t. He hadn’t. He’d been quite content to let the icy killer thaw and rest while resurrecting some of the human being he used to be, ages ago. He’d wanted to badly just to live. To be.

With Yohji.

Focus!

The tall assassin stopped up ahead at the edge of shadows between two buildings. He pressed his back against the brick of the building and peered out. Abyssinian waited further back, scanning the darkness behind them before he followed. A dark shape skittered through the deep brown shadows at the end of a passageway as he stole across the opening. Abyssinian’s mind went cold, his senses kicking on higher alert. He flattened against the corner just near the opening, quickly but quietly dropping his bags to the ground beside him. A brief glance toward Balinese showed the blond had noticed his move. Without questioning or hardly making a sound, the taller assassin dropped his own bags and crept to the wall opposite Abyssinian, making sure to he could not be seen in the opening.

The man was good, Abyssinian would give him that. He could barely hear the footfalls approaching. Too many footfalls. He glanced at Balinese, freeing his hand from the hilt of his katana only long enough to hold up two fingers. He then changed it to one and pointed it at Balinese.

Balinese nodded, scanning above him. There was a fire escape landing not far above him, the ladder within easy reach, but reaching the landing would cause too much noise. Abandoning the idea, the blond widened his stance and held out his arms before him, one finger poised over the watch that was far more than just a timepiece.

Abyssinian crouched, turning back toward the entrance to the side passage. He clicked his katana free of its sheathe with his thumb.

Before he even saw the man, the wire sang through the air. A male voice cried out and a shadowy body stumbled past the swordsman into the main alley, shining silver threads circling his forward arm. A gun dropped from that hand, clattering to the pavement mere seconds before the heavy fall of his body.

Abyssinian didn’t wait. Keeping low, he sailed into the passageway. A muffled shot sounded and the passage of the bullet whizzed over his shoulder as he lunged, blade out and expertly aimed at the heart of the second assailant. A second gun clattered to the pavement.

The wire sang beside the swordsman as he shoved his victim off his blade.

Another muffled gunshot sounded.

Balinese grunted.

Abyssinian trod over the corpse before him, bloodied blade slicing upward to cut open the chest of the third assailant.
The narrow passage behind the third man was empty. Aya forced himself to retain his icy calm and raced to the end to make sure all opponents were dispatched.

His heart, however, tore.

Yohji was hit.

The passage opened into another, better lit alley. But other than two cats that skittered away when he rounded the corner, there was nothing. No more shadows. No one else to kill.

Katana clutched in his hand, Aya spun back just in time to see Yohji stagger toward the first alley. He caught up to him just as Yohji sagged against the corner, still in the passage. He muttered softly, holding silver wire in one gloved hand, using the finger from that hand to press a button on the watch that drew the seemingly delicate length back inside.

Aya stopped beside him, scanning that tall body. He found what he was looking for sticking out of the meat of Yohji’s upper arm.

A dart.

“Don’t.” Yohji stopped him when he reached for it. “It’s barbed.”

Aya hissed. “How do you feel?”

Yohji grimaced, watching shining silver wire retract into the watch. “Like I’ve been shot with a dart.”

Aya snarled, reaching for the lapel of Yohji’s mission coat, intent on taking it off. “Baka, this is not time for…”

They both froze at the sound of a car screeching to a halt on the street outside the main alley. A door opened and footsteps rushed in their direction. The car was still running.

Aya looked up at Yohji, glanced at the wire that was only half retracted into the watch. The watch’s second length was still wound around one of the bodies. The third and fourth wires would still be inside the watch, but the length Yohji currently held prevented him from loosing them.

All this he saw in a tenth of a second. Abyssinian resurfaced and he sailed into the main alley. He barely even saw the man who gasped in shock just before he died.

“Can you get to the car?” Aya asked, dropping to his knees briefly to wipe blood off the katana on the corpse’s knit jacket.

“Yeah,” a pained voice behind him affirmed.

Aya had to trust his word. At least for the moment. He sheathed his blade as he stood and sped to his bags. Hurriedly, he gathered them and ran to the open door of the blue sedan left running. He unlocked the back door and threw the bags in. Returned to the alley for Yohji’s bags, taking a brief opportunity to scan the street as well. Empty. Dark except for the car lot that had been their destination shining a few blocks away.

Yohji straightened from the first corpse, more wire in his hand, and staggered toward the car. Aya moved toward him but Yohji waved him off. “Get in and drive.”

Aya climbed in. Yohji made it to the open back door and fell in. Aya barely waited for the door to close before he sped off in the opposite direction of the car lot.

They were quiet for a long time. Aya forced himself to concentrate on streets, watching their trail, not listening to the grunts and strained breathing from the backseat.

“Fuck.”

“You okay?”

“No.”

Aya glanced in the mirror to see Yohji with his hand gripping his arm where the dart had been. It was too dark and his mission coat too thick for Aya to see how much he was bleeding.

“It’s a tranq,” Yohji muttered.

“What?”

Yohji tossed the dart into the passenger seat beside Aya. “There. I picked up one of their guns too… thought it’d be handy.” Yohji’s drawl was drawn out, sleepy. “It’s a tranquilizer gun. There’s a box of darts here on the floor too.” He laughed, sounding vaguely crazed as he slumped. “They’re not trying to kill us. They’re trying to catch us.”

Aya grunted, coming to the same conclusion himself. He wasn’t sure the information was comforting. But, at the moment, he couldn’t quite care. “You’re sure it’s not poison?”

“Not according to the box.”

Said box, or something like it, tumbled and spilled its contents on the floor of the backseat. Aya glanced in the mirror and didn’t see his companion.

“Yohji.”

“Gotta sleep now,” came the mumbled reply.

“Yohji, don’t.”

“Can’t… help…”

“Yohji?!”

Aya’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. He didn’t dare stop. He only vaguely knew where he was and still wasn’t entirely certain they hadn’t been followed. It stood to reason that they hadn’t. It was clear to him now that the first three had intended to put he and Yohji down with the darts, picked up by the fourth in this very car. It might have worked if Aya hadn’t spied the first.

He wanted so badly to stop and make sure that Yohji was okay but he didn’t dare. He had to get them to relative safety first before he could make sure that his lover was even still alive.

Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

That’s as far as I’ve gotten so far with this one. I need to figure out what happens next.

*************************************************

– HELP FROM THE PAST –

Yohji glanced into the rearview mirror again. He grimaced. “Damn.”

Aya didn’t even glance at him, eyes trained on the road while one slim and tried to hold back most of his flaming red hair. “We’re being followed.”

“Hn.”

“Can you lose them?”

“Depends. How obvious you think we should be?”

Aya said nothing, thinking. Yohji turned over a few ideas in his own head. Traffic around him wasn’t too bad. They were far enough outside the city proper that they couldn’t just get lost in a crowd.

Aya finally spoke. “Drive into the city. We’ve got to ditch the car anyway.”

“What about our stuff?”

Silence for moment. “How much can you lose?”

Yohji sighed. “I can lose all of it but I’d like to keep at least one bag.”

Aya nodded. “Any suggestions?”

“One. I’ve a friend who owns a bar. It’s place where one of my stashes is.”

“Hn. You trust him?”

“I don’t trust her that much, no. But enough.”

He watched Aya absorb the pronoun. Or, at least, tried to figure out what was going on behind that porcelain mask. He switched gears then reached over to squeeze Aya’s knee. “I haven’t dated her for awhile, Aya. She had a boyfriend the last I heard.”

Aya shrugged, keeping his eyes trained forward. He didn’t even acknowledge the hand.

Yohji sighed. Since Aya hadn’t objected, he went ahead and headed for Ayume’s place, keeping a careful eye on the blue sedan tracking them.

–*–

Yohji glanced over at Aya just before they went into the bar. “Don’t take anything that I’m about to do seriously, Aya.”

All he got was a raised eyebrow.

He grimaced and leaned in a tad. “I want to kiss you.”

“Don’t. Lead on.”

He huffed a sigh, shrugged his bag further up on his shoulder, then pushed through the door.

“Yoshiki!”

Yohji winced dramatically at the shrieked sound of his alias. He faked a groan when a buxom brunette barreled around the bar to throw herself in his arms, barely letting him drop his bag before he caught her. “Ayume. Loud as ever.”

She kissed his cheek then swatted his arm. “Oh you! How are you! I missed you. You never come around anymore.” She noticed Aya behind him. Predictably, her eyes lit up. Aya, after all, was quite a looker. She batted her eyes prettily and extended her hand. “And who is your friend?”

“This is Aida.”

Aya didn’t bat an eye. His cool mask didn’t slip a bit as he nodded at Ayume, neglecting to take her hand.

She smiled, dropping it. Realizing she’d get nowhere with Aya, she turned to Yohji, taking his arm in both of hers to press her breasts against his bicep. “What brings you here, Yoshiki?”

“Haunting the old place, seeing what’s up.” He let Ayume pull him to the bar, trusting Aya to follow. Their bags were left by the door. There were barely a dozen people in the bar. Either Aya or Yohji would notice if someone got to nosy.

Ayume eyed the bags. “On the move again, Yoshiki?”

He smiled as she rounded to the back of the bar. “You know it.”

“Where to this time?”

“Not sure.”

“You need a place to crash?” She laughed at his hopeful look. “The room upstairs is still empty.”

“Ayume, my love, you’re the best!”

He ignored Aya’s stony silence.

They made nice with Ayume and her customers for awhile. Well, Yohji made nice. Aya ordered one Jack and Coke and nourished it in silence as he sat beside Yohji. Yohji was shocked that Aya ordered something alcoholic, but wasn’t at liberty to ask.

Finally, Yohji led him up to the small, one room studio that was across the hall from Ayume’s own apartment. It was drab and dusty, but not altogether bad. Both of them had stayed in much worse.

He dropped his bag on a rickety chair by the bed and watched Aya as he surveyed the room and briefly checked out the bathroom.

At last, the redhead turned to face him.

They shared a moment of silence.

“It was a long time ago, Aya.”

Aya shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Obviously it does.”

Aya took off his jacket, carefully extracting the katana from where it was stashed in the lining. “Should you go sleep with her to maintain our cover?” He laid the weapon carefully on the table.

Yohji’s eyes narrowed. “No, damn it. I told you…”

“It was a long time ago, yes. But would Yoshiki fall into her bed when he came back?” Violet eyes pierced him but gave him nothing of Aya’s thoughts or emotions. Abyssinian was in lethal charge.

“Possibly.”

Those eyes shuttered, glancing toward the window. “Then you should go.”

“No.”

“It’ll seem odd and we don’t…”

Aya broke off, immediately on guard as Yohji stalked up to him. Yohji didn’t care. “I don’t give a damn about cover. We’re not going to be here all night anyway. The reasons I brought us here are threefold.” He held up one hand between them, one finger raised. “One, Ayume doesn’t talk much as a general rule, despite what you saw tonight. If you think about it, she didn’t really say anything.” Second finger. “Two. My stash is up in the corner of that ceiling.” Third finger. “And three, there’s a poorly guarded car lot that we can get to through alleys and a back way out of here. If anyone did follow us, there’s a hell of a chance they won’t see us leave.”

Aya blinked at him, beautiful even in the harsh light of the single, uncovered bulb above their heads. “So what are we waiting for?”

Yohji grimaced. “This.” He snapped out with the hand between them, managing to catch Aya off guard. Surprising. He caught Aya’s chin and held the shorter man’s face tilted perfectly to receive his kiss.

Those hot, pliable lips didn’t respond immediately. In fact, Yohji thought he’d lose his hold or get a punch to the gut. But after a brief moment of tension, Aya sighed. No, it was too much for a sigh. It was almost, but not quite, a whimper. He melted. He stepped into Yohji’s body, chest bumping chest, and wound his arms around Yohji’s waist.

Thank god! Yohji thought, releasing Aya’s chin so he could slide his arms around the man’s neck. “Aya, I…”

“Fuck me, Kudoh,” Aya rasped, strong hands tugging at Yohji’s jeans.

Yohji blinked. “Huh?”

Aya snarled, yanking Yohji’s jeans open. “I want you inside me.”

Yohji shuddered. Be strong. “Aya, we don’t have time…”

“We’ll make time, damn it.” Aya’s mouth took Yohji’s in a brutal, desperate kiss as his hands freed Yohji’s half hard cock from his jeans.

Yohji hissed as Aya squeezed his shaft. He lost track enough to be caught off guard when Aya dropped to his knees and shoved all of Yohji into his mouth. “God, Aya!” He grabbed onto Aya’s strong shoulders for balance. Felt his cock surge with blood, forcing Aya to release most of it as it grew. Didn’t seem to bother Aya, who squeezed the base then bobbed up and down the length, torturing Yohji with rough, wet caresses.

Yohji swallowed, trying not to come. It was a difficult thing. Peeking down at Aya, he groaned, watching Aya not only devour his dick but also open his own pants to free that beautiful red cock of his own. “Aya.”

Grunt. Aya made him wet, made his cock glisten with saliva. He pumped it, watching it almost critically, getting it just right. When satisfied, he stood. His white coat flew aside, landing in a heap on the faded comforter on the bed. His pants dropped halfway down those long, pale legs. He turned and bent over the pock-marked table. “Now, Kudoh.”

“Aya…”

“Yohiji, please!” That desperate tone, almost heard. Just like that first night.

Yohji couldn’t resist it. He stepped up behind Aya, spread those alabaster cheeks with one hand, aimed with the other, then slid slowly into the most perfect ass ever.

Aya arched back, moaning softly. The back of his skull bumped Yohji’s shoulder as he leaned forward to wrap an arm around Aya’s chest.

“Aya…”

Aya pushed back. Blindly, he found Yohji’s other hand and brought it to his cock. Together they pumped it while Aya rocked back onto Yohji’s cock and Yohji pressed forward into Aya’s body.

Yohji shut his eyes, completely caught by the beauty of it. Making love to Aya. Not so much fucking. Loving. The frantic moves that they started with slowed. Aya shut his eyes tight but didn’t insist on speed or strength. He gripped Yohji’s hand on his length, content to match Yohji’s slow slide in and out of his body.

“Aya,” Yohji sighed again, face buried in the back of his lover’s neck, breathing deep of the deep rose spice of Aya’s skin.

Urgency took them slowly. It was inevitable. They didn’t have the time for a leisurely fuck and were too frantic for each other to make the slow pump last. Yohji jerked forward. Aya gasped. Aya gripped Yohji’s hand harder on his cock. Aya fell forward, free hand braced on the table. Yohji’s hips escaped his control and he pumped hard into Aya. He came first, but Aya’s jerk to completion was only a moment behind.

Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

This one’s got Ken/Omi sex. If that squicks you, you may want to skim.

*************************************************

– IN THE WOODS –

Omi tried to hide his smile as he stood on the ridge keeping watch. It really did just figure that Ken’s emergency stash was buried in the woods. How very Ken.

Omi glanced down the slope but couldn’t see Ken through the heavy bushes. But he could hear him. Obviously Ken wasn’t concerned with being overheard. Not surprisingly. Other than the occasional passing car, there should be no other people within miles.

Nonetheless, Omi kept his gaze down the road, leaning on the trunk of a tree just off the pavement. Shiny tree sap threatened the shoulder of his sports jacket, but he didn’t mind too much. The Porshe was hidden down near where Ken was scrabbling around. Omi just wanted to make sure that no one was following them. So far, it seemed, no one was.

“Omi.”

“What?”

“You see anything?”

“Just pavement, trees and a few birds.”

“Good. Could you come down here?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I found it.” The car door shut.

Omi turned from the tree, taking his hands out of his jacket pockets and descended into the bushes and trees.

Ken was leaning against the trunk of the car, arms over his chest, ankles crossed. His head tilted to the side, glossy brown hair lifted in the faint breeze as he watched Omi with a small grin.

“What?”

Ken held out a hand. A hand free of gloves, free of bugnuks. “Come here.”

Omi’s heart soared at the dark promise in Ken’s voice. He made himself stop five paces away from that oh-so-tempting body lovingly hugged in comfortable old jeans, an equally worn t-shirt and that favored, battered leather jacket. “Ken we don’t have time for this.”

“For what?”

Omi pointed at him. “Don’t give me that innocent look, you. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Were we followed?”

“Well, no…”

Ken pushed from the car, stepping ominously toward Omi. “Then what does it matter?”

Omi backed a step as Ken took another. “Hold on, Ken.”

Ken hunched over a bit. Brown eyes narrowed and his grin took on an evil tilt.

Omi’s eyed widened. He knew that look, that preparation. He had a split second to see it, then turn and run.

It was hopeless, really. He was fast. He was really fast. Ken was simply faster. The man was built like a wolf, all compact muscle built for speed and endurance. Instinctively, Omi used most of his wiles, jumping over bushes and dodging through the trees. It was the only reason, he was sure, that he evaded Ken for as long as he did. But there were too many trees and bushes and Ken was familiar with the landscape where he wasn’t. He rounded a tree trunk then cried out a gasp as Ken tackled him to the leafy ground.

“Ken, really!” he gasped, a goofy smile on his face despite himself. “We shouldn’t…”

Ken flipped him onto his back, pinning his wrists to the ground beside his shoulders. Brown eyes bored into his, steamy, heady intent painfully obvious in their gleam. “We should.”

“K…”

Lips crashed down on his and other than a tiny whimper, he was unable to resist. Unwilling to resist. The chase had set his blood to boiling and there was only one thing for it. He sucked in Ken’s tongue like it was his only nourishment in the world. His tiny whimper turned into a full body moan as he pushed his hips up into the groin that straddled him.

“God, Omi!” Ken rasped, releasing his wrists to cup his face. Calloused fingertips played along Omi’s jaw and chin as Ken’s hot, moist mouth hovered above his. “You taste so fucking good.”

Growling, Omi grabbed handfuls of Ken’s t-shirt under his jacket, yanking it up so he could get to the smooth, precious skin beneath. He leaned up, the bandana on his head falling to the ground as he lifted his head to seal his mouth to Ken’s again.

He moaned in frustration when Ken’s lips trailed down his neck. “God, Ken, we can’t. No lube.”

“I know,” Ken rasped, edging farther down Omi’s body. He paused to shove up Omi’s shirt, nibbling a nipple to make Omi gasp. “And we don’t have much time. But if I don’t taste you now I’m gonna explode!”

Omi fell back to the sparse grass, dirt and leaves, undone by the desperation in Ken’s voice. To think that the athlete wanted him that badly. Was this for real?

The hands opening his jeans were real enough. The fingers that found his cock and gently but impatiently freed it from his pants were also real. And the mouth that closed wetly over the tip was the most wonderfully real thing Omi had ever felt.

“Oh God, Ken!” His voice squeaked but he couldn’t help it. It was too good.

Ken hummed as he slid his mouth down, nearly taking all of Omi in. Omi hadn’t realized he was fully hard. Ken wrapped his hand firmly around the base then mercilessly teased the tip and the rest of the shaft with his tongue and teeth.

Omi dug his fingers in his own hair, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He heard himself panting, Ken’s name spilling from his lips every so often. He wanted it to go on forever but the torture had to end. “Ken, I’m gonna…”

Ken sucked hard. Squeezed hard. Made it impossible for Omi to hold the explosion that detonated deep in his groin to splash down Ken’s throat.

“Oh God, Omi,” Ken groaned, nuzzling the base of Omi’s flagging erection.

Omi flinched. “Ken, stop. Too much.” He looked down to see Ken grinning up at him. He frowned. “Come up here, you.”

Ken crawled up his body to put their mouths back in line. But that’s not what Omi had in mind. He kissed Ken briefly, then pulled him farther up.

Ken didn’t get it. “Huh?”

Omi grabbed the waistband of Ken’s jeans and hauled, wiggling downward himself until he was face to crotch. “You’re not the only one who wants to taste.” He hadn’t gotten to last night. They’d fallen asleep before he’d done a fraction of the things he dreamed of doing to Ken’s body. They didn’t have time now either, but he was at least going to do this.

“Omi,” Ken groaned, bracing on hands and knees while Omi freed his erection.

Omi very nearly sighed at the sight of it. Fat and bright red with a smooth head fully emerged from the foreskin. Omi pulled the skin up, hooding the head, then pushed back to watch it emerge again. Did it a second time, sucking in the head and skin this time. Mmm, salt. Spice. Ken. He released Ken’s cock with his hand—not mouth!—to put both hands on Ken’s hips, pulling down.

Ken groaned, easing his hips down into Omi’s waiting mouth. “Shit, Omi!”

Omi tried his own hum, gratified by Ken’s shaking response. He tilted his head and sucked in as much of Ken’s length as he possibly could, letting the head butt up against the back of his throat. He teased the veins with his tongue, lightly scraped the rim of the head with his teeth. Happily, anything he did, Ken seemed to like.

When Ken’s hips started to pump, Omi went with it. He imagined what it must look like to see Ken humping his mouth and it drove him nuts. He felt his own cock, still free to the afternoon air, start to stir again. Ken kept pumping. Omi glanced up to see his head hanging down between his shoulders, hair trailing in the leaves, eyes half focused on Omi’s mouth. Omi smiled and sucked harder, gratified to see those huge brown eyes close in pleasure.

Unable to help himself, Omi reached one hand down to grip his own cock again. He let Ken fuck his mouth, one hand wrapped around the base so Ken didn’t choke him. He matched Ken’s rhythm with his own hand. Ken’s breathing went awry. He swelled. Omi hummed, then swallowed down the surprising amount of spunk that spurted from Ken. His own second orgasm triggered at the sound of the satisfied groan that tore from Ken’s mouth.

Ken collapsed to his side beside Omi, breathing heavily. Omi watched him dreamily, wiping his own semen on the grass beneath him.

A branch snapped somewhere behind Omi.

Neither of them moved, eyes locked on one another.

Ken glanced in the direction of the sound, moving only his eyes. Omi casually reached inside his jacket, easily finding the feathers of four darts and tucking them between his fingers. Ken was weaponless, other than his own hands. Distant targets were Omi’s job.

Ken’s eyes snapped back to his. He blinked once, deliberately. One target.

Omi sighed, hoping it sounded post-coital. He wondered if the target had let them finish just to enjoy the show. That kind of pissed him off.

Ken leaned toward him, lips to lips. “Gun. Out but up. Three o’clock.”

“Right.”

They kissed briefly. Omi pushed to sit with his free hand. He saw the shadow move in the corner of his left eye.

With well-practiced ease, he flung his left arm, letting loose the darts a split second before he dove forward into a somersault.

A masculine cry sounded to his left. A gun went off. A body fell to the ground.

Anxious, Omi spun, a prayer for Ken’s safety on his lips.

He caught sight of the back of Ken’s jacket turning around the tree the target must have fallen behind.

Omi sprang to his feet, eyes scanning the trees. Too many of them. Stupid of him and Ken to have been so careless.

Ken jumped over a bush toward him. He hit the ground and put hands to the fly of his jeans, fastening. The look he gave Omi told the younger assassin what he needed to know. Dead and, as far as Ken could tell, alone.

Omi reached down to fasten his pants as they both turned back toward where they’d left the car.

They said nothing and moved silently. They saw no one. The car was deserted.

Ken nearly dove under the car to check for explosives while Omi carefully checked inside before he opened the door. They found nothing.

They got in the car and exchanged a quick glance just before Ken started the car. Nothing. The Porsche hummed to life.

Ken got them onto the road.

“Was there anything on the body?” Omi asked.

“No. Nothing. He was American, though.”

“American?”

“Either American or English. Maybe Canadian, I guess. Definitely not Japanese.”

“Esset?”

Ken shrugged.

Omi sighed, flopping back in his seat. “I guess we weren’t being paranoid to leave.”

Ken dragged a hand through his hair, stepping harder on the gas. “No. I guess not.”

Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

*************************************************

– LEAVING –

It was inevitable, of course. Any assassin would know that. One couldn’t stay in one place too long or one got caught.

Killed.

Aya told himself that as he packed the bag that was always half full. His other bag was still packed from the previous night, still sitting downstairs where Omi had left it. He’d known that they probably wouldn’t be able to stay where they were for long but… But this time he’d allowed himself to hope, to think that maybe things would calm down enough for him to enjoy life a little.

Ha! Not in the cards for Ran Fujimiya.

He ran through plans in his head as he rushed down the stairs. Money wasn’t an issue. They each had at least four IDs with passports and two off-shore banking accounts. Through force of habit and self-preservation, he had at least two stockpiles of cash hidden away off-site and was confident that the others had their own stashes. They would leave their cell phones. They’d have to contact Krittiker through different means.

He met Ken in the main room. The athlete was bent over his own bags, green sweatshirt tied about his slim waist and beat-up leather jacket over his t-shirt. His goggles lay hung like a necklace from his throat. “Are we going overboard?” Ken asked calmly, brown eyes level and serious.

“Maybe. You willing to risk it?”

Ridiculous question. Ken didn’t bother to answer it.

Omi and Yohji appeared at the same time, nearly silent as they rushed down the stairs. During the past few months, all four of them had grown careless, walking and moving around like normal people. Aya was gratified to see that it didn’t take much to pick up old habits.

Yohji carried a wad of paper towels, indicating that he, like the rest of them, would have wiped down most of the available surfaces of his bedroom. “I’m going to miss this place.” He sighed, dumping the towels in the wastebasket by the door. His long, mission coat was draped over one arm. Black jeans and a black midriff hugged his lean frame, the only mar in the lines being the pack of cigarettes and the lighter stashed in one front pocket. The watch that was much more encircled his slim wrist.

“No help for it,” Aya said, shouldering his bags and holding tight to his katana. He tossed his keys to Ken. “You and Omi take the Porshe. Ditch it when you can.”

Ken caught them, but frowned. “I was going to take the bike.”

“Fine, then Omi should take the car. You two will need it.” At their twin frowns, he sighed. “I assume you are going together?”

Unbelievably, that thought seemed to just dawn on them. Fine. He didn’t wish to take the time to sort out their affair. He shook his head and turned to Yohji. A moment of sheer panic threatened to blind him as looked up into those emerald green eyes. It was entirely possible that Yohji wouldn’t stick with him. Yohji was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, of seeing to his own needs. Perhaps more capable than Aya in the long run. They didn’t have to leave together. But Aya couldn’t fathom being without the blond.

Reassurance came in the form of a suggestive smile on those gorgeous lips as Yohji lowered his familiar glasses to cover green eyes. “And we’re taking the Seven, I assume?”

Aya beat down his own grin, determined to remain cool. He nodded. “But we have to get rid of it as soon as possible.”

Yohji sighed, tossing his coat over his shoulder and bending to pick up his two bags. “I know. I was so hoping to keep this one though.”

“Baka,” Aya grumbled, turning for the back door.

Yohji was only a few steps behind him. “We’ll be in touch in a week, yeah?” he called to the other two.

Aya glanced back to seem them nod then pushed out the door.

–*–

Omi watched Aya leave with Yohji at his heels, each of them glowing briefly as they passed through a square of morning light streaming across the kitchen. Horrible foreboding told him that he might not see them again. He bit his lip.

A comforting arm slid around his shoulders. He gave in to the luxury of folding himself in Ken’s arms.

“It’s okay, Omi. We’re probably taking this way too seriously.”

Omi nodded.

Ken pressed the keys to Aya’s Porshe into Omi’s hands. “We should get going.”

Omi stared at the keys. It made sense. His little car wouldn’t have the pickup to speed them away if necessary. But he was supposed to drive alone? Panic speared his heart. “Ken.”

“Yeah.”

“Come with me in the car.”

Ken frowned, shoving his bag up on his shoulder. “But the Yamaha…”

“Please, Ken. I don’t think it’s a good idea that we’re separated.”

“Why not?”

Frustrated, scared, Omi gathered the lapels of Ken’s leather jacket in his hands and hauled the taller assassin to him. “I just got you, Ken. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you.”

Ken’s arms went around him, a reassuring smile curving his lips. “You’re not going to lose me. I’ll be right there with you.”

Omi shook his head. “Please, Ken.”

Ken swallowed.

Outside, the Seven roared to life. They stared into each other’s eyes, listening to their companions drive off into the morning.

Finally, Ken reached up to brush a single tear from Omi’s cheek. A tear he hadn’t felt shedding.

Ken smiled. “Okay, Omi. Whatever you say.”

Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

Please note that this fic falls AFTER my Night Out fic.

*************************************************

– SUSPICIOUS DATA –

Ken was warm and happy. Happier than he’d been for a long time. Content. He snuggled down closer into the body he was wrapped around. Smaller, but firmly packed in all the right places.

Ken smiled. Omi.

He nuzzled the younger man’s neck, letting Omi’s sweet, vanilla smell lull him back to sleep. Omi wiggled back into the bend of Ken’s body, pressing that sweet little ass against…

Now Ken was awake. His eyes snapped open, immediately full of the blurry vision of hair streaked three different shades of blond and soft neck. Wondering if Omi was fully awake, he let one of his hands trail down a smoothly muscled chest. He’d just check to see if Omi had morning wood.

Omi hummed and wiggled again when Ken’s exploration found a semi-hard cock.

Ken smiled and set to wake the blond up further. Perhaps this morning they could try what they’d never gotten to the previous night. Just the thought of being inside Omi had Ken hard as a rock. He pressed the length of his erection against the crack of Omi’s ass, mind whirling with possibilities.

“Oh shit!”

Instinct drove Ken to his knees when Omi shot up. Even without the bugnuks, Ken’s fists were ready for the danger that Omi had sensed.

Except there wasn’t any. Omi scrambled out of bed, grabbed the jeans that had been discarded on the floor the night before and practically jumped into them.

“Uh, Omi…” Ken’s heart clenched. Was Omi upset about what had happened last night? “What’s wrong?”

Jeans on but unbuttoned, Omi dropped to his knees before Ken on the mattress. Quickly, he framed the brunet’s face with his hands an planted a firm kiss on his lips. He pulled back and grinned. “I forgot to send the mission report last night.” With that, he was up and off the bed, fastening his jeans as he raced out the door.

Oh. That was okay then. Relieved, Ken sank back onto the bed—Omi’s bed—and stared up at the ceiling. A quick glance told him that it was 5 AM. The start of a new day. A day after sleeping with Omi. Well, mostly.

–*–

Yohji woke halfway at the sound of Omi rushing from his room. Both he and Aya tensed. No call of alarm was sounded and no Omi slid into the room to warn them of intruders.

Aya relaxed first, sinking back into the pillows and shutting his eyes.

A split second later, Yohji followed his example and lay his head back down on the back of Aya’s shoulder. The redhead was warm, his skin was amazingly soft, the bed was inviting and the sex from the previous night had completely worn Yohji out. Plus
it was to fucking early. He was more than content to go back to sleep.

–*–

Ken woke from a doze at 8 AM. He was still alone in Omi’s room. What the hell?

He got out of bed and put his shorts on. The t-shirt he pulled on as he quietly exited the room. He paused, glancing across the hall at Yohji’s closed door then down the hall at Aya’s cracked door. They must be together.

A small pang of jealousy propelled Ken down the stairs to find his own company.

Predictably, Omi perched before laptop he had setup on the desk in the corner of the main room downstairs. He sent a guilty look Ken’s way when Ken rounded through the door. “Sorry, Ken. I got distracted.”

Ken ran a hand through his hair. “That’s okay. Something wrong?”

Omi frowned. “I don’t think so but…”

“’But’?”

“That data we took last night is kind of weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. It’s encoded and really vague. But something about it…”

Ken had to smile. Omi looked so damn cute, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared at the computer screen. The blue cast of the screen in a partially lit room made his skin look like porcelain, except for the lip, red where he’d been chewing. Those long,
slim fingers flew over the keyboard.

Ken crossed the room and stood behind Omi’s chair. Quite deliberately, he leaned in to kiss Omi’s bare shoulder.

The fingers on the keyboard stalled.

“Did you send the data to Krittiker?” he murmured over smooth skin.

“Yes.”

He smiled at Omi’s breathless tone. “That’s all you were supposed to do.” He slid a hand into Omi’s hair and used it to tilt his head to the side, exposing more neck to nuzzle. “Let Krittiker take care of the rest.”

“But…”

Ken tasted the soft skin just behind Omi’s ear. He traced the fragile curve of that ear with his tongue. “Turn off the laptop, Omi.”

“Huh?”

He laughed and took it upon himself to lean in and reach forward toward the mouse.

Omi figured out what he was doing and snatched it away before he could close anything. “Wait! Hold on.”

Ken grinned. If Omi was doing research for a mission, Ken was sure he wouldn’t be doing this. But since the mission was over, all was fair. He straightened, grabbed the back of the chair and pulled.

Omi yelped, clutching the seat of the straight-backed chair as Ken turned it a quarter circle. “Ken, what are you…?”

Ken dropped to his knees, hands on Omi’s knees to spread them so he could wedge closer. Willing his smile to be seductive, he slid his arms around Omi’s waist and pulled him forward.

Omi’s surprise melded into a warm, smile that made Ken’s heart ache. Slim arms lifted to surround Ken’s neck, clever fingers spearing through his hair.

Their lips met in a kiss full of promise. A certainty that the previous night hadn’t been a one-off thing. Ken knew, from this kiss, that Omi did really want him. He moaned, sucking Omi’s tongue into his mouth, swallowing the taste of him as he slid his hands over Omi’s smooth, bare back. How had he missed doing this for years? Well, okay, the last year that Omi was legal.

Impatient with desire, Ken pulled his hands between them and tugged at the button holding Omi’s jeans closed. He wanted to taste more of Omi, a particular part of Omi. As he recalled, that part tasted really good. A taste he could grow addicted to.

Omi’s slim hand landed on his, squeezing his fingers before he could properly get them inside of the fly. “Wait, Ken,” he gasped against Ken’s lips, “we shouldn’t do this.”

Ken dropped his mouth to kiss the flesh over Omi’s rapidly beating heart, trying to shake Omi’s hold on his hands. “Why not?”

“Yohji and Aya…”

Ken froze. “Oh yeah.” He sat down on his heels, grimacing. “Right.”

Omi laughed softly. He bent down to catch Ken’s face with both hands, turning it up toward him. His blue eyes shone with affection. Love? “I don’t care if they know, Kenken, but I don’t think they need to see.”

Ken matched his grin, rising up closer to that beautiful face. “We could go back to your room.”

Omi rubbed the tip of his nose on Ken’s. “Good idea. Just let me…”

Ken tilted his head and pushed in, having to taste those lips again. Omi sighed into the kiss, eagerly playing tongue-tag with Ken. His slim, strong legs wrapped loosely around Ken, ankles hooking around his knees.

“How utterly sweet.”

They froze, both pairs of eyes going wide and staring at each other at the sound of the third voice. A terribly familiar voice.

“I told you, Yohji,” said a fourth voice, also quite familiar.

Slowly, Ken and Omi turned to see Yohji and Aya lounging in the doorway, each leaning a shoulder against a side of the doorjamb. Loose drawstring pants nearly fell from Yohji’s slim hips and a green robe—Yohji’s robe—embraced Aya’s lean frame,
a gaping V in front exposing his pale chest.

Yohji’s grin was wide enough to split his face. “I’m so proud of you, Ken.”

Ken felt the blush flame his face. He pulled away from Omi, sitting back on his heels. “Fuck you, Yohji,” he grumbled.

The tall assassin laughed. “How rude. To say such thing in the arms of your lover. Pay him no mind, Omi.”

“Stop it, Yohji,” Omi muttered.

Ken glanced up to see Omi wearing a matching blush as he turned back to the laptop.

Ken grimaced, hopping to his feet. “Yeah, knock it off, Yohji.”

Yohji opened his mouth but stopped when Aya hooked a hand around his elbow and tugged. “Come, Yotan. Let’s eat.”

“But I’d rather…”

“Oh shit!”

All levity died at the tone in Omi’s voice. Ken spun toward the youngest assassin. The two in the doorway sped toward them.

“What is it?” Aya demanded.

Omi’s hands flew over the keyboard as his three teammates leaned over his shoulder. “It’s us! This data is all about us.” He pointed at the screen. Most of what was there was encoded gibberish, but when he pointed it out they could see the bits and pieces. “It’s mostly medical and psychological reports, I think, but I finally saw names.” His finger indicated Fujimiya, Hidaka and Kudoh in different places across the screen. The only reference he could find to himself was a Takatori. quot;Why is this about us?”

Ken looked at Aya. “Who were the targets last night?”

Aya shook his head, red hair brushing the shoulders of the robe. “No target. It was a normal office building. An assessor’s office.”

“A cover,” Yohji declared, eyes still on the laptop. “Is there any information about our location?”

“No,” Omi confirmed. “Well, not that I see. But there’s a lot that I haven’t decoded. So far there’s nothing to even indicate that we’re still alive. Just a lot of data.” He shook his head. “What does it mean?”

Yohji’s head snapped up and he met Aya’s gaze. Ken watched them as they seemed to share a thought.

Aya finally nodded. “We need to get out of here.”

Authors note: This is a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

I’ve been asked if I’ll continue this one. The answer is yes. As soon as the boys tell me what comes next and as soon as I get some other characters’ stories out of my head.

*************************************************

– MISSION COMPLETE –

Aya’s hands clenched and released the steering wheel. He kept a close eye on the speedometer, aware that he was entirely likely to put on too much speed in his current state of mind.

Beside him, Omi’s fingers clacked on the laptop, recording Aya’s version of the mission. The whole thing had gone without a hitch and Aya hadn’t gotten to kill anyone. Which was a shame. He’d wanted to. He’d very nearly needed to. He was so frustrated, he could have taken on Schwartz and Shrient and still gone looking for more. All because what he really wanted to do was shove his cock so far into Kudoh Yohji’s hot little ass that the slut knew he’d been branded.

“Got it,” Omi said. “Report’s done. I just need to hook up at home and send it.”

Aya glanced at the younger man, scowling to see the grin on his face. Omi caught him watching and giggled. “I’m sorry, Aya-kun. But… are you in a hurry?”

Aya glared briefly before turning his eyes to the road. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Omi sighed, closing the laptop. “I envy you.”

Aya rolled his eyes. “Just tell him.”

“I know. I know. But…”

“This is Ken. Hints and subtlety aren’t going to work.”

“I know.”

Aya smiled a nasty smile. “I could tell him.”

“No!”

“You’re right.” The smile got nastier. “I’ll tell Yohji.”

“Ayan, no! He’d tell Ken for sure!”

Aya chuckled.

“Aya, you wouldn’t!”

“I’m just trying to help you, chibi.”

Omi’s eyes went wide at Aya’s precise mimicry of Yohji’s voice, which only made Aya laugh more.

Omi grumbled. “I’m happy that you’re loosened up a bit, Aya-kun, but I’m beginning to rethink you and Yohji being so close.”

–*–

Yohji and Ken were playing video games with the sound up loud, just the way Aya hated it. That was the only reason they didn’t hear the car.

Both men jumped, dropping their controllers when the back door slammed open. Ken spun and crouched, hands fisted and ready even without the bugnuks. Yohji sailed across the room, hand ready at the watch he’d put back on after months without.

Aya appeared in full mission glory in the wide opening between kitchen and living room. He paused on the threshold, glorious white trench settling about his black-clad body, sheathed katana in hand. His hair shone bloody red as he turned his eyes to latch onto his target.

Yohji.

All the blood drained from Yohji’s body. Only one other time had he been the target of the angel of death and he did not relish the position.

Aya’s eyes narrowed. He smiled.

Oh wait! There was all his blood. Surging into his cock.

Aya pointed at him. “You.” He snapped and jerked a thumb toward the staircase. “Your room. Now.”

Yohji barked a nervous laugh then rushed to comply. He was at the bottom step when he heard another “You.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Aya pointing at a dumbfounded Ken. “Get your head out of your ass.” Then Aya spun and saw Yohji. The shi-ne glare returned. “Why are you still here?”

Yohji abandoned all thoughts of Ken and sped up the stairs. He reached his room and turned just in time to see Aya swoop through the door. With one booted foot, he slammed it shut. He tossed the katana onto the overstuffed chair as he stalked toward Yohji. Leather hissed as he reached up to grab Yohji by the ears and yank his head down to press their lips together.

–*–

Omi laughed, still staring after Aya. He very carefully didn’t look at Ken, not sure what Ken thought Aya meant by his parting remark.

“Shit.”

Omi nodded, giggling. “Aya couldn’t wait to get back to Yohji. I do believe Yotan is going to be sore in the morning.” He glanced to see Ken still gaping up the stairs. He sighed. Now or never. “I wish I could find a man who wanted me that much. Yohji’s so lucky.”

“Did you say ‘man’, Omi-kun?”

Omi dared a blazing smile Ken’s way. He saw shock but not disgust. Progress! “Didn’t you know, Ken?” He laughed and turned back toward the door. “I’m going to get the bags.”

All right, Aya. I made it known. Now what? Omi’s normally rock-steady hands shook a bit as he slammed the car trunk shut.

Ken had put the game console to rights by the time he returned. He had both his and Aya’s bags over his shoulders. He headed for the staircase. “I guess I’ll just…”

Ken was beside him. “Omi.”

He turned toward that wonderfully muscular body. “Yes, K…”

He didn’t know if it was shock or the press of lips to his that cut his powers of speech. Bags thumped to the floor, dropping from Omi’s lax arms as he turned fully into Ken. Ken’s hands framed his face, fingers wonderfully rough in his hair as Ken angled Omi’s mouth to better receive his tongue.

–*–

Yohji pulled up, gasping for air. Aya barely missed a beat, flattening his hands on Yohji’s chest and shoving. Yohji fell in an elegant sprawl.

Aya stopped him from rising by pointing an imperious finger at him. “Strip.”

Emerald eyes flared and white teeth caught Yohji’s full bottom lip. Aya fought the need to pounce and bite the lip himself. Instead, he put hands to his coat to remove it.

Yohji finally moved to obey. The blue midriff tank flew to the end of the bed and his drawstring pants quickly followed suit. His cock slapped against the hard muscles of his abs as he sprawled in long-legged glory before Aya.

Aya tossed his coat on the dresser and took a step back. He pointed to his feet. “Boots.”

What a quick study! Yohji slid off the bed to his knees. He hitched up one leg of Aya’s black jeans and unzipped the boot. Aya put a hand on Yohji’s warm, bare shoulder for balance as he let the lanky assassin remove it. Aya didn’t think Yohji needed to rub his cheek against the outside of Aya’s leg, but he let it go. In his own languid, tactile fashion, Yohji divested Aya of the other boot as well as socks, then sat back on his heels. He turned his face up, an expectant gleam in his eyes.

Smiling darkly at his beautiful lover, Aya untucked and pulled off his sleeveless t-shirt. He reached out to spear one hand through the hair at the side of Yohji’s face, tugging a bit more than necessary. Yohji winced, but none of the green fire in his eyes diminished. With his free hand, Aya loosened his belt.

Yohji’s glance darted down. “Aya, let me…”

Aya tugged his hair. “Shut up. No talking. I’ve got better things for you to do with your mouth.”

Yohji’s nostrils flared. The tip of his tongue poked out to wet his lips.

Aya got his jeans undone and shoved open the fly. Impatiently, he freed his angry cock from the confines of his briefs. “See what you do to me, Yotan,” he growled. He grabbed his cock and painted Yohji’s lips with the moisture on the tip. “You had me like this during a mission.”

Yohji’s eyes fell half-mast, his lips slack to receive. A cute little whimper escaped his throat.

“You’re too fucking hot, Kudoh,” Aya murmured.

Yohji’s gaze darted up to meet his.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Yohji smiled.

Aya mock glared and yanked again on Yohji’s hair. “Open wide, slut.”

An impish grin curved the edges of Yohji’s mouth. His tongue darted out to swipe over the head of Aya’s cock. Surprisingly, he remained silent.

–*–

“Omi, I hope you meant what you said about a man,” Ken breathed against Omi’s lips. His firm grip on Omi faltered when he heard himself. “I-I mean…”

Omi’s hands clutched in the fabric of Ken’s shirt. “I did, Ken,” he assured him, brushing lips against lips. “I meant it”

His heart was beating fast. It was kind of like the bloodlust but way different. Warmer. Kinder. More urgent. He closed his eyes and stayed with his mouth just brushing Omi’s, breathing Omi’s sweet breath. “Omi, I…”

“God, don’t talk, Ken, just keep kissing me.”

Ken pressed his lips gently to Omi’s open mouth. He tasted so good. “Omi, God! I gotta sit down.”

Omi’s eyes flew open. Huge pools of cornflower blue threatened to swallow Ken up. “Let’s go upstairs.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, OK.”

He grabbed one of Omi’s hands. Eyes locked on that sweet, round face, he kissed the palm of that hand before grasping it, turning and leading the way up the stairs.

“Wait!”

Omi’s voice stopped him barely over the threshold of his room. His heart sank. He was going to fast. Apology on his lips, he turned.

Omi smiled shyly at him, gripping his hand and tugging. “My room.”

Ken’s heart soared again. What the hell did he care where they were?

They crossed to Omi’s room without so much as a glance across the hall at Yohji’s closed door.

–*–

“Suck it, Kudoh.”

Yohji opened to receive. Aya smiled then groaned as he slid into the warm cavern of his lover’s mouth. If he didn’t know better, Aya would have said that Yohji had been sleeping with men all these years instead of women. He certainly knew how to suck cock like a champion. That clever tongue found all the sensitive spots, raking there, tickling there and poking—God–there. Aya pushed in as far as he dared, until he felt Yohji gag. To Kudoh’s credit, he didn’t let the involuntary reflex get him. When Aya would have pulled back farther, Yohji grabbed his hips to stop him. Although Aya had his hands tangled in Yohji’s loose hair, he let Yohji control the blowjob. He was doing just fine, anyway, and Aya still didn’t want to spook him.

I love you.

The words were in his head, on his lips, but wouldn’t pour out. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t right. They were still in the throws of new passion. This could all fizzle out at any moment.

Thoughts broke off as that delicious little tingle started in his belly. It shivered back to the base of his spine, down through the crack of his ass to his balls. “Yohji, I’m gonna come.”

–*–

Omi fell back onto his bed, eagerly receiving Ken’s weight mere seconds later. Ken’s mouth found his again and they got lost in kissing. He could do this forever! He had no idea if Ken was an expert at this or not, but what he was doing was just grand to Omi!

He was the one to grab Ken’s shirt and pull it up to expose his back. He just needed to touch all that wonderful skin. Such smooth softness over such steely hardness. He squirmed. And gasped.

They both gasped.

Obviously—at least to Omi—neither one of them were quite prepared for the feel of their erections sliding against each other. Omi wore faded, worn jeans but Ken only wore cotton shorts.

“Shit, Omi!” Ken groaned into the bend of Omi’s neck. He ground his hips into Omi’s. “That feels fucking good!”

Omi shuddered at the sensation, flattening his hands on Ken’s back. “Yeah.”

“Omi, I’ve never—“ kiss, “—done this—“ kiss, “—with a guy before.”

Omi’s giggle was breathless. He toed off his sneakers, letting them thump to the floor. “You’ve pretty much told me that before, Ken.”

Ken actually bit the taut muscle of Omi’s neck. God, that felt good! “I want…”

“Do it, Ken, please. I want you. I really, really want you.”

–*–

Yohji clutched Aya’s hips, clamping down with his lips on the delicious cock in his mouth. If Aya wouldn’t let him speak—and prevented him by sticking things in his mouth—then he damn well hoped the redhead got the impression that he was not to move away. This time Yohji was going to taste him.

It all happened in a rush. Yohji growled in frustration when he gagged slightly, but he was proud of himself for swallowing just about all of what Aya fed to him. Darkly, salty sweet, just like Aya.

Aya ripped his head back by the hair and bent over to take Yohji’s mouth with his. He opened gladly, only getting hotter when he realized that Aya was tasting himself. He moaned, clutching and pulling Aya’s pants so that they fell halfway down his legs.

“Don’t worry, Yotan,” Aya whispered wetly over his lips. “I haven’t forgotten what you said before I left.”

Yohji sighed happily.

“Get up on the bed. On your back. Show me the gorgeous body I get to ravish.”

That word! Yohji nearly melted at the sound. Eagerly, he complied, scooting to the middle of the bed. Then, on his back, with feet pointed toward Aya, he bent his knees and spread wide.

Aya watched him with a predatory smile. Slowly, he shed his pants. Then Yohji realized that the blowjob was to take the edge off. Aya was still hard but he’d be more in control. Yohji, on the other hand, was dying.

“Don’t touch it,” Aya snapped when he saw Yohji’s hand creeping toward his weeping cock.

Yohji whined in earnest, obeying the no talking rule, but only barely.

Unconcerned, the angel of death opened the drawer in Yohji’s nightstand and brought out the lube. “Having difficulties, Kudoh?”

Yohji glared.

“Should I tie you up?”

Yohji’s eyes went wide and he whimpered in what he hoped was an adorable fashion.

Aya climbed up on the bed, kneeling between Yohji’s thighs. He dropped the lube between his knees and leaned forward, bracing himself over Yohji. “No, I think you’ll behave this time. Won’t you, Yotan?”

Yohji slid his palms up Aya’s forearms to his biceps, needing to touch him but unsure how much Aya would allow in his present mood. Smooth, cool skin warmed to his touch.

Aya leaned in, twisting his neck just slightly so that one long eartail brushed over Yohji’s lips. “Did you miss me, Kudoh?”

Yohji opened his mouth, eyes locked on Aya’s, silently asking permission.

Aya smiled. “Good boy. You can speak.”

Yohji glared at bit at being treated like a pet. Then realized that he was loving being this particular man’s pet and let it go. “Yes, I missed you.”

Aya’s biceps bulged nicely as he lowered himself to lightly press his lips to Yohji’s. “Did you think about me fucking you?”

“God yes.”

“You still want it?”

“Yes!”

“You ever done it before?”

“Uh… once.”

A red eyebrow shot up. “Didn’t like it?”

“Not really.”

Aya chuckled, kissing him again. “We don’t have to do it this way, Yohji.”

“No!” He caught Aya when he would have shifted away. He pulled until they were flush together, his erection tucked against the hard muscles of Aya’s belly. “I want it. I want you. Inside me.”

Aya smoothed a hand through his hair. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

–*–

Ken just did what he always did, trusted his instincts. Lips playing with Omi’s, he shifted in order to get his hand to Omi’s waist. Easily, he yanked the younger man’s shirt up then slid his hand up underneath. Warm, smooth skin. Surprisingly hard muscles for such a slim frame. He found a nipple only because it raked his palm and made Omi squirm. Liking the effect, he tweaked the sensitive little nub. Omi whined.

Oh God, he had to do more! He raked the shirt up farther, grateful when Omi helped by squirming out of it. He braced himself on all fours above the younger man, just looking and breathing for a long, beautiful moment.

Omi reached up to comb a hand through his hair. The expression of pure happiness on his face clutched Ken’s heart, like it always did. He’d do anything to keep that look plastered on Omi’s face. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find words, so he used his mouth to worship Omi’s body instead. He tasted the curve of Omi’s shoulder, traced the definition of each pectoral. He laved attention on Omi’s nipples, reveling when Omi’s arms wrapped around him. He slid out of his shirt when Omi tugged, then lay flush against his new obsession.

Omi’s eager hands slid into the back of his shorts, taking him by surprise. He jumped and the little devil used his momentary distraction to push him over on his back.

“Hey!” he protested.

Omi laughed, straddling him. “I’ve waited long enough to get my hands on you, Ken,” he said, hands yanking the elastic of Ken’s shorts.

Ken gaped, shocked. “What… ungh!”

Omi had his hot, nimble fingered hand wrapped around Ken’s cock and pulled just right, chasing every coherent thought out of Ken’s brain.

Ken barely registered that Omi had leaned back over him, lips hovering over his. That hand was doing marvelous things to his hard-on. Cornflower blue eyes twinkled down at him. “Feel good, Ken-kun?”

–*–

Aya pressed fingers to the sensitive spot underneath Yohji’s balls, making the other man groan. He smiled and poured lube all over that hand, slathering moisture all over. He was bound and determined that Yohji was going to enjoy this. Lubrication and arousal were the key. He glanced at the nearly purple erection that twitched on Yohji’s belly. Arousal was already well accomplished.

He cupped a wet palm around Yohji’s balls. Squeezing, pulling, enjoying the way that lanky body writhed. Yohji growled, grabbing a pillow to give his hands something to do. Aya smeared lube on his other hand and slid it base to weeping tip up Yohji’s cock. The effect was marvelous. Like his own wire had him about the chest, Yohji arched toward the ceiling, balanced on butt and shoulders. His heels dug into the mattress to either side of Aya and his long arms were outflung. The keening cry that tore from his throat was delicious. Aya fed his pleasure by pumping his cock, fingering the sensitive spots just underneath the head. He waited until he was sure Yohji was lost in pleasure before dipping the wet fingers of his other hand to find that hidden entrance. Carefully he traced it, feeling it flex with Yohji’s writhing. He watched carefully, judged it precisely, and when the timing was right, he slid his middle finger in.

–*–

He had him! Omi had Ken’s cock in his hands. He knew he should reach for the lube. He would in a second. But he couldn’t make himself release that marvelously hot piece of flesh any more than he could tear his eyes away from the pure, animal ecstasy on Ken’s face. Not to mention the sounds! Ken made some of the same noises when he practiced.

Omi nipped Ken’s chin, pressing his own hips into his hands and Ken’s cock for added pressure. Finally it was too much. With a cry, he pulled back and leaned over toward the nightstand.

Ken regained his wits while Omi was occupied. His eyes went wide when Omi straightened, still straddling his hips, with a bottle of lube in hand.

“Where’d you get that?”

Omi rolled his eyes, popping the cap. “Please, Ken, what healthy man doesn’t have lube handy?”

He nearly laughed at the flabbergasted look on Ken’s face. “You…?”

Then he did laugh. “What? Jerk off? Jeez, Ken, how innocent do you think I am?”

Ken gulped, his hands gripping—unconsciously, Omi thought—at Omi’s thighs. “I guess I didn’t think.”

Omi grinned, watching Ken’s face as he poured lube into his hand. “Don’t think, Ken-kun.” He reached down to take hold of that beautiful cock again. “You let me do the thinking for awhile.”

–*–

“Good… Aya… So fucking… Aaghy!”

Yohji had no idea what he was saying and didn’t fucking care. Aya could read his mind. Aya was completely in charge and Yohji was more than happy to have given up the reins. His body was on fire. Aya’s hands were the center of his existence. The one on his cock seemed to have a dozen fingers and a mouth of its own. And the other one tunneling into his backside…

The first finger didn’t hurt at all. He was too busy pumping at Aya’s hand to hardly notice it. Until Aya hit what must have been his prostate because something gathered in his balls and had him about ready to come.

“Aya… Aya… Fuck… Aya…”

His hips pumped uncontrollably, shifting him into Aya’s hand in one direction and impaling him on two… then three of Aya’s fingers. It almost burned now, but the burn was part of the building, agonizing pleasure that Aya was building.

Where had he learned to do this?! What god did Yohji have to worship for sending him Aya? Because he was now a fucking convert. A life-long devotee.

He grabbed his own sweaty hair, having to hold something, knowing he daren’t reach for Aya because the bastard might stop this exquisite torture.

Fingers slid out of his ass. He whimpered, arching, seeking, wanting them back. “God, Aya, no. Want… please…”

“Oh, you’re getting, Yotan.”

Swallowing, Yohji glanced down. Through sweat soaked bangs, he saw Aya poised between his legs. The hand on his cock paused. The other hand hidden, but he knew what it held. Knew where the cock that it held was pointed. The look Aya gave him would have melted steel.

Aya pressed forward.

–*–

Ken was dying. Omi was jerking him off with a skill a virgin shouldn’t have. Although, what guy over fifteen didn’t know how to pump a cock?

“Shit, Omi.”

Omi leaned over him, close enough so that the head of his cock grazed the younger man’s stomach on each upstroke. His other arm was braced beside Ken’s shoulder. Dark blond hair shrouded each side of his beautiful round face. Ken reached up to frame it, to bring those swollen lips to his, even as his body twitched with impending orgasm.

“Come for me, Ken,” Omi breathed, swiping his tongue over Ken’s mouth.

It was the words coming from that sweet mouth that did it. Ken’s balls drew up and he shuddered on a moan, shooting off in Omi’s hand and all over his own bare belly.

–*–

So tight!

It had been ages since Aya had been inside anyone with anything other than his katana. He had to stop and pause halfway in, just to breathe and clear his mind. Otherwise, he’d come. The blowjob had helped him maintain sanity, but Yohji was too fucking sexy in his wild abandon.

“Aya, please, Aya please,” Yohji panted. Strong fingers dug into his shoulders. The impossibly long leg that wasn’t draped over Aya’s elbow wrapped around his hips, pulling him further into heaven. “Aya more…”

He groaned, slumping forward, his weight and the leg around him hilting him inside that hot, tight cavern. He shuddered. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring down at Yohji’s cock as it twitched on his belly. He fervently wished he was flexible enough to bend down and take it in his mouth and had to smile at that bit of silliness.

“A-ya!”

He chuckled, looking up. Yohji glared down at him. “What do you want, Yotan?”

Emerald eyes hooded and the smile was positively wicked. It probably matched his own. “Fuck me.”

–*–

Omi yelped when Ken flipped him over. “Ken, wait…”

“No!”

His heart raced at the growl. He was quite glad that the bugnuks weren’t on Ken’s hands because he was pretty sure they would’ve slashed his jeans. Instead, Ken practically ripped his jeans open and yanked them and underwear halfway down his legs. His yelp of alarm melted into a cry of purest pleasure when Ken swooped down to take his cock in his mouth.

“God, Ken!”

His legs were trapped, both by jeans and Ken’s body. Frustrated, he clutched at Ken’s silky hair but frustration was short-lived.

Ken devoured him, using an amazingly agile tongue to do things that Omi had never managed to do with his own hands. And the suction! Omi whimpered, not sure that Ken wasn’t going to suck it off. Was quite sure he wasn’t going to complain because it felt fabulous. His hips pumped toward Ken’s mouth eagerly. Ken’s strong hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other hand and forearm pressed low on Omi’s belly to hold him in place.

“Ken, ah! Ken, God, oh… grggh…” He dissolved into a puddle of consonants, unable to form a thought, his entire body straining into the mouth that tormented him.

He couldn’t have warned Ken if he tried. His back curled, his body up and twining around Ken’s head, his fingernails scrabbling at Ken’s back as his orgasm drew up and shot out.

–*–

Slide. Slap. Delicious friction. Yohji braced himself on the bed, arms spread wide, eager for the punishing abuse of Aya pounding into him. One leg up against Aya’s chest, the other wrapped around Aya’s slim hips, Yohji’s body greedily accepted Aya’s cock. Opening. Welcoming. Shit how did he do that? That fucking spot that…

Aya’s hand on his cock again, pumping him. God, so good! Oh man…!

I love you!!

And he would have said it too, if his vocal abilities hadn’t been reduced to whimpers and groans and pleading sighs.

More. More. Faster, harder. Had to end soon or he’d explode but sweet God don’t ever let this end. Want this feeling forever. Want this man for eternity. Need to have…

Blinding, agonizing need shot through him, obliterating his spine, exploding his spine and shooting hot lava from his cock. His entire body folded in itself until, by some magic of the universe, it ended up folding back out without changing direction.

That keening cry was him.

That guttural shout was Aya.

The glowing, shaking puddle of flesh and bones in the aftermath were two souls merged into one.

Yohji fleetingly wondered if Aya knew it.

Authors note: This is a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

*************************************************

– QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS –

Yohji lay on his bed, sulking. An ashtray with the butts from half a pack of cigarettes lay on his chest, his fingers holding yet another cigarette above it. American blues played from his CD player, a fitting soundtrack, he thought, for his current blue mood.

Aya hadn’t even been gone three hours!

He wanted to expect a call, but knew better. Neither Bombay nor Abyssinian would check in before the mission tomorrow night or, likely, after. He wouldn’t hear anything good or bad until the day after tomorrow.

A shadow darkened his open doorway. He glanced down his body to see Ken’s silhouette.

“Hey, Yohji.”

“Hey Ken.”

“Mind if I ask you something?”

“No.”

Ken moved into the room and dropped down in the comfy chair in the corner, heedless of the clothing strewn across it. Sensing a real talk coming, Yohji moved the ashtray from his chest to the windowsill and sat up.

Ken stared at the hands he had clasped between his knees, leaning forward, elbows on knees. The fall of his hair hid his expression from Yohji.

“What’s up, Hidaka?”

Abruptly, Ken’s head shot up, those big brown eyes locked on Yohji. “Are you gay?”

“Huh?”

“Did you sleep with Aya?”

“What?”

Ken barely took a breath. “Omi says you are. Well, he says you’re bi-sexual at least, because we all know you’ve had plenty of girls. But damn it you’ve never once talked about guys. And he thinks that Aya came out because of you and he thinks that I’m just not seeing things right under my nose. Is he right?”

Yohji blinked under the barrage of words, wondering when it was going to stop. When it finally did, he was speechless for a moment.

“Well?”

He took a breath and tipped ashes into the ashtray. “I’m very definitely bi, and, yes, I did sleep with Aya.” Straightforward honesty was always best with Ken. If you tried to be subtle to avoid hurting his feelings, you usually just ended up confusing him or, worse, pissing him off.

Ken gaped. “You’re shitting me.”

“Afraid not.”

He waited while Ken processed that information, unsure of a favorable reaction. Finally, Ken collapsed back into the chair with a silly little grin.

“Well fuck me.”

Yohji grinned. “Sorry, Ken. Aya got me first.”

Ken blushed. “Asshole. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Ken worked his jaw side to side, a habit he had when he was thinking. “Huh. You and Aya?”

Yohji shrugged. “Until Krittiker sent him away.”

“Yeah. But they’ll be back. It wasn’t just a one nighter?”

“The mission?”

“No! You and Aya.”

“God I hope not!”

“That good, huh?”

Yohji felt the happy smile splitting his face. “Honestly, Ken, the best I’ve had.”

“Whoa! How many guys have you had?”

“Only a few. But I meant the best, male or female.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Even better than…?”

Yohji recognized that pause. His teammates knew him too well not to know his touchpoints. “Asuka? Neu? Yeah, better.”

“Well, hot damn. Who’da thought Aya would be an incredible lay?”

Yohji snorted. “I actually did think it. I just didn’t think I’d get to confirm it ever.”

Ken’s next question threw him for a loop. “Did it hurt?”

“What?”

Ken’s head was cocked to the side, making him look for all the world like a curious dog. “Did he do you?”

Yohji found himself looking away. Not because he was embarrassed really but, Ken was so earnest. “No. I did him.”

“No shit? I would have taken Aya for the seme.”

Now that he thought of it, so would Yohji. He frowned and lit a new cigarette with the butt of the expiring one. Why had Aya taken the bottom role? Twice.

“Would you let him do you?”

Yohji coughed over his cigarette. He glared at Ken. “Why the sudden interest, Kenkun?”

Finally the man looked embarrassed. He glanced down at his knees. “Just curious. You don’t have to answer.”

I wonder. “Yeah, I’d let him do me.”

“Have you ever…let anyone do you before?”

“Once.”

“How was it?”

“I hated it.”

Ken frowned. “So why would you want to do it again?”

“Ken, one of the things I’ve learned through the years is that you can enjoy different things with different lovers. I’m positive that I’ll love anything that Aya chooses to do to me or with me.”

“Why?”

“Because he makes me hot. Because just thinking of him makes me half hard.”

Ken couldn’t resist the glance, but it was fleeting. Yohji hid his amusement by hitching further back on his bed. The loose t-shirt he wore covered his crotch nicely. And, yes, he was half hard.

“Just thinking about him, huh?”

The question was odd. The soft tone was odder. The way Ken started wringing his hands together was oddest of all.

“Out with it, Hidaka.”

“Out with what?”

“What you really want to ask?”

Ken pushed forward to the edge of the chair. “You want a beer?”

“No.”

“I do.”

Yohji reached his feet just as Ken did and caught the shorter man’s arm. “What’s up, Ken? What are you afraid to ask?”

Big brown eyes met his. He tried to look open, reassuring. Something was freaking Ken out. “You know you can trust me.”

Ken nodded. He stepped back and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He stared out Yohji’s darkened window. “You think Omi’s gay?”

–*–

It was a long drive. For Omi, it was the third within the space of thirty six hours. Aya told him he could sleep, but he was too amped up.

A third of the way into the trip, he gathered his nerve to ask.

“Aya, did you sleep with Yohji last night?”

Aya’s nerves were decidedly more stable than Ken’s. He kept his eyes on the road. His expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

Omi sighed. “That’s terrific.”

That got him a sidelong glance. “Is it?”

“Aren’t you happy about it?”

A ghost of a smile curved Aya’s mouth. Even that tiny move softened his face. At times like this, Omi easily saw what attracted Yohji. Once he’d harbored fantasies about Aya himself, but he’d given them up long before Aya found out he was a Takatori. Aya was far too intense for him. As was Yohji. He needed someone simpler. More down-to-earth. Muscular. Darker.

There he went again.

“Yes,” Aya answered. “I’m happy about it. Are you Ok with it?”

“I’m thrilled! Even more because now I can ask you for advice.”

Aya frowned. “Advice?”

“Yeah. You got Yohji to notice you. Help me get Ken to notice me.”

–*–

“The chibi?” So he hadn’t been seeing things!

Ken scowled. “Now I do need a drink.”

Yohji stubbed out his cigarette and hurried after Ken. They met in the kitchen.

“Why do you want to know if the chibi is gay?”

“Stop calling him ‘chibi’. He’s not a kid anymore.”

“Oh ho! And you noticed this when?”

Ken dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Fuck you, Kudoh.”

“Oh no, we’re on your love life now.” He sat across from Ken, opening his own beer. “That is what we’re discussing, isn’t it?”

Ken took a long drink. “Yeah.”

“When did this start?”

Ken shrugged. “I dunno. I just started noticing him, I guess. I didn’t think about it really until that night we went with you and Aya to the club. Before that it was just…” He shrugged.

“Go on.”

“There’s nothing more. Aya threw me for a loop, y’know. I never expected him to…” he shook his head. “It was a helluva thing”

“I know.”

Ken grinned. “I just couldn’t believe it. Then my mind started wandering and wondering about other people. I didn’t wonder about you because you were always with girls.” He glared at Yohji, who decided not to comment. “But, God, Omi. He’s so fucking cute! And he never goes out. I did start to wonder if maybe he was hiding something. I wasn’t going to do anything about it. But then he told me yesterday that you and Aya were probably… And I was like… And he was so…” Ken slapped a hand to his face and grunted. “Shit, Yohji, I don’t want to be gay.”

Yohji chuckled. “Any particular reason? You looking forward to getting married and having kids?”

Ken grimaced. “You know I’m not.”

“You thinking of Yuriko?”

Yohji still felt bad for that one. It had been him who’d reminded Ken of his place that time. He’d made Ken face the fact that he was a killer. At the time, he’d thought it best. Since then, he’d wondered if he’d screwed up Ken’s one true shot at love. He wasn’t going to screw Ken up this time.

Ken cradled his beer, lean in low over the table. “The funny thing is… I’m not. I didn’t think about her until Omi mentioned her yesterday. I haven’t really been thinking of any women lately.”

“And what have you been jacking off to?”

Ken raised a shocked glance.

Yohji shrugged. “Chances are what gets you off is what you need. You don’t have to tell me, but you should face up to it.”

Ken bit his lip. “Do you jack off thinking about Aya?”

“Oh god yeah!”

“Before he came out?”

This is interesting. “Yeah.”

“Just Aya?”

He grinned. “I’m sorry, Ken darlin’. I haven’t been harboring illicit thoughts about you.”

Ken shook his head, not even embarrassed at that. “That’s not what I mean. You jacked off thinking about Aya before you knew he was gay?”

“Yeah.”

Ken dropped his head onto his arm, groaning. “Fuck! I’m gay.”

Yohji tried really hard not to laugh. He reached out and patted Ken’s shoulder. “Cheer up, Kenkun. You’ve slept with women and enjoyed it. You’re at the very least bi-sexual.”

–*–

“But how did you get Yohji to ask you out?”

Aya shook his head, staring up into the darkness. He and Omi lay in the twin beds in the tiny little room they had to rest before the mission. Their room was underground, with no windows and all the lights were out. It was pitch black. They’d spent most of the night reviewing the mission plan, during which Omi was fully Bombay. But it was now daytime, the plan was set and there was nothing to do but wait, Omi was back.

“I didn’t. He just… did. Sort of. I don’t think he knew he was asking me out.”

“You must have done something that night at the club.”

Aya suppressed a sigh. He wanted to help. Really, he did. The thought of Ken and Omi together actually pleased him immensely. It made what he hoped he and Yohji could have all the more possible.

“All I did was make it patently obvious that I was available. I knew if Yohji was at all interested, he wouldn’t be able to resist.” Well, I’d hoped.

“Did you know he was bi?”

“I suspected.”

He heard Omi’s disembodied sigh.

“I don’t think Ken’s even that. I think he only likes girls.”

“Does he know you’re gay?”

Silence for a moment. “You know, Aya, I don’t think he does.”

Aya snorted. “That’s where you should start.”

“But what if I let him know that I want him and he’s disgusted.”

“What if you don’t let him know and he’s interested too?”

Omi grunted.

“This is Ken. He’ll miss anything subtle. If he’s not attracted, I doubt seriously he’d be disgusted to find out that you are. And if you know, at least you can move on.”

“I don’t want to move on.”

“You’d rather suffer in silence.”

Omi sighed. “You’re right, Aya-kun.”

“Get some sleep, Omi. We’ve got a mission soon.”

Authors note: This is a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.

*************************************************

– INEVITABLE COINCIDENCES –

Omi had never spent a more frustrating time in his life! Well, that wasn’t true. There were some pretty frustrating days back before the fall of Esset. And then before that, the memories he’d suppressed of the time he was kidnapped…

OK, he hadn’t spent a more sexually frustrating time in his life. Yes! That was it.

He stared out the passenger side window, not seeing anything that passed. His attention was equally divided between his depressing thoughts and every little movement of the dumb-ass driving the car.

Ken didn’t even know. He didn’t see. Omi was blindly, incredibly in love with him and Ken was clueless.

He’d had grand hopes for last night. He’d packed lube and everything. But, in the end, he’d chickened out. He hadn’t made a move and Ken hadn’t picked up on his way-too-subtle-for-that-hard-head clues. They’d gone to the game, ate dinner, watched a few movies in their hotel room and fell asleep. Well, Ken had fallen like a rock. Omi had spent much of the night in agony since they’d only gotten a room with one bed. Sleeping beside the object of his fantasies was simply torture!

It was Aya’s fault, Omi decided, chewing on his thumbnail. If Aya hadn’t come out so damn spectacularly a week ago, Omi’s suppressed desires would have stayed suppressed. But when he’d seen Aya on the dance floor, when Aya hadn’t come home that night, when he’d seen Ken and Yohji’s reactions to Aya, Omi’s hopes had started to grow. Omi didn’t know if Ken even realized it, but he’d been watching Aya differently for the past week. And it wasn’t revulsion or confusion. It was desire. He saw him differently. He may not know it, but he was intrigued. In the past few years, Omi had grown to know his teammates better than they knew themselves sometimes. The only one who could still take him by surprise was Aya—a la last week at Outkast. But Ken and Yohji were easy. Well, they were easy to read at least.

Omi thudded his head back on the headrest, sighing.

“What’s wrong, Omi-kun?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just wondering.”

“What?”

Omi glanced at Ken. Admired the darkly tanned arm that propped casually on the top of the steering wheel. Wished he could give those strong fingers gripping the steering wheel something else to grip. Ken’s other arm was bent in the open window, elbow bent and head propped on his hand. His chocolate brown hair tousled in the wind, tangling over the earpieces of his sunglasses.

Did he dare?

Why not?

“Oh, just wondering if they did it.”

“If who did what?”

“Aya and Yohji. If they slept together.”

The car swerved and Omi had to clutch the dashboard. He hid a grin behind apparent fear. Aha! That got you!

“What?! What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Huh?”

Omi sighed, rolling his head to gaze at Ken as he tried to calm down and drive. “Why do you think Aya came out like he did?”

“You mean last week?”

“Yeah.”

Ken frowned. God, his lips were so beautiful, even when he frowned like that. “I don’t get it.”

Omi chuckled. “Oh, Kenkun. Aya came out like that to make sure that Yohji noticed him.”

“What? Yohji’s not gay.”

Omi rolled his eyes and snorted. “He’s at the very least bi-sexual.”

Again the car swerved. Ken was starting to get a decidedly panicky look. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!”

“Well, he is.”

“But all the women! He’s never said anything.”

“Well of course he hasn’t. Except for him going out with nameless girls, none of us have really expressed our sexuality have we? When was the last time you were out? Yuriko?”

He’d hated to mention the name, but it was inevitable. Omi was pretty sure that Ken still believed she was the love of his life. He lived in fear of the time that Ken decided to pack up and head off to Australia to join her.

“I haven’t really… There hasn’t been a good time…”

“I know, Ken, I know. Heck, I’ve never had sex.” He laughed. “The closest I got was with my own sister.”

“Hey! You didn’t know that!”

He sighed. It didn’t upset him so much. Not anymore. Nothing he’d ever felt for Ouka had ever come close to what he felt these days when he was around Ken. For instance, he kept his socked feet propped up on the dashboard and the hem of his t-shirt pulled low to cover his half-erection just from being in the same car with Ken.

They were quiet for a time. Omi dearly wanted to ask Ken what he was thinking, but was kind of scared to find out. Just in case he was thinking of Yuriko again.

“Omi, you’ve never had sex?”

He grinned. Well, that was a pleasant topic. “Not with another person, no.”

Ken blushed. How sweet! “Not ever?”

“Ken, you’ve known me since I was fifteen. When have I had the chance to have sex?”

“During that time right after Takatori. When we went our separate ways? You were really popular at school, weren’t you?”

“Only as one of the best people to copy homework from.”

“But you had, you have tons of friends.”

“How often do you sleep with friends?”

Ooops! Wrong words! Damn it! Why had he said that?!

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Omi desperately tried to triage. “Of course, I guess that doesn’t always apply. Aya and Yohji, for instance.”

Ah good. That seemed to get Ken back on track. He looked positively poleaxed. “Do you really think they did it?”

“Why didn’t Yohji come with us?”

“He’s not all that into soccer.”

“Yet it gave him a whole night alone with Aya.”

Ken gulped. “They’ve been alone together before.”

“Not since that night.”

“So we’ve just been in the way?”

Omi giggled. “Don’t be silly. I doubt Yotan even realizes what’s happening.”

Ken scowled. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m observant.”

Ken glanced at Omi. Unfortunately, sunglasses hid those amazing brown eyes. He grinned. “You scare me sometimes, Omi-kun.”

“Me? Why?”

“Makes me wonder what you know about me that I don’t.”

Omi just smiled. More than your realize, my love.

Omi went back to staring out the window. Maybe he should just talk to Aya and see if he could get some pointers.

–*–

“Get off me, baka.”

Yohji decided Aya’s growl was not convincing and ignored the words in favor of keeping his chest firmly planted against Aya’s back as he nuzzled Aya’s ear. He rocked his hips against Aya’s tight ass just because.

“Yohji.”

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

He nipped Aya’s shoulder. “So am I.”

“For food, moron,” Aya laughed. Oh yes, he laughed! He shrugged, trying to step out of Yohji’s embrace and get back to the stir fry. “Let me do this.”

Yohji sighed and backed off. But he didn’t go far. He twisted and leaned his butt up against the counter, reaching out to swipe a strip of pork form the wok. “I just can’t keep my hands off you, Aya.”

Aya smiled. “Good. Just let me eat before you ravish me again.”

Yohji squirmed, purring. “Oh, I like that word. ‘Ravish’.”

“Hentai.”

“Complaining?”

Aya turned of the flame. “No. Not really. Go get the rice.”

Humming happily, Yohji obeyed, fetching bowls to fill from the rice cooker. All was right with the world, he decided. After waking up blessedly late—much to Mr. Early-riser Fujimiya’s disgust—they’d shared an amazing, leisurely fuck in the shower before Aya declared himself half-dead from starvation. As it was after noon, Yohji kind of had to agree. So here they stood, clean, Aya in drawstring pants and Yohji in jeans, waiting on Aya’s quick and filling stir-fry. It was amazingly comfortable. So much so that Yohji fought the darker thoughts that wanted to spring to mind.

How long is this likely to last?

What will Ken and Omi think?

He said he’s wanted me a long time. Has he changed his mind now that he’s had me?

What happens when Weiß is reinstated?

Nope. With a talent he’d honed to perfection, Yohji put the thoughts aside and let his mind go blissfully blank.

Aya dished out the stir fry then joined him at the table. He must not have been kidding when he said he was hungry, because he ate like a fiend. Yohji, however, couldn’t throw stones because as soon as the rice hit his mouth, he lost most of his other desires to hunger.

But the hunger for food was soon sated and other hungers arose. He scooped the last bit of rice into his mouth and chewed speculatively as Aya rose from the table with his own empty bowl. He leapt up when it looked like Aya was actually going to wash it.

He pressed his chest against Aya’s back again, dumping his own bowl into the sink. He took his lover’s hands from the faucet and turned off the water. “Oh no you don’t.”

“Impatient, Yotan?”

“To have you back in bed again? Oh yeah.”

“Do we need a bed?”

He spun Aya around but kept him trapped between the sink and himself. “I’m happy to do you right here.” He cradled Aya’s face in his hands, gazing into those violet eyes. “Or maybe you could…”

As one, they jumped at the sound of the car door.

“Shit! Are they back already?”

Aya pushed him away and hurried to the main room of the house. They could both plainly see Ken and Omi exiting the car through the window that opened to the carport.

“Damn it!”

Yohji was glad to hear it come from Aya. At least he’d wanted some more time together too. “You and your eating,” he grumbled.

“Fuck you, Kudoh.”

“I’m game, but…” he gestured toward the window.

Aya sighed, scraping a hand through his hair. “No.” He turned a wicked gaze on Yohji. “I’ll meet you in your room tonight?”

It was a question. One Yohji was more than happy to answer with a “You’d better!”

–*–

Ken banged the door open a little harder than necessary. “We’re home!”

Omi followed behind him, muttering something Ken couldn’t make out. He ignored it, scanning the kitchen then the main room. Ah, there was Aya. Reading. Alone.

“Where’s Yohji?” Ken asked from the doorway.

Aya barely glanced up. “Hell if I know.”

Ken grinned. Omi was definitely making things up.

Ken spun from the doorway and sprinted up the stairs, pounding open Yohji’s door. “Man! You so shoulda come with us!”

Yohji was in his accustomed spot, smoking while sitting on the windowsill. Soft jazz was playing from his CD player and a magazine was splayed open on his lap. He turned and smiled. “Good game?”

–*–

Omi took his bag to his room. He heard Ken loud and clear in Yohji’s room, filling him in about the game. Well, it had been a good game. But Ken liked to fill Yohji in on these things.

Omi left them to it, going back downstairs. He wandered into the main room and sat on the couch across from Aya.

“You may turn the television on.”

Omi looked up at Aya. “Huh?”

Aya glanced at the television remote in Omi’s hands, then at the set itself. “You may turn it on, if you like.”

Omi sighed. “Oh no thanks, Aya-kun.”

“Omi, what’s wrong?”

Sound erupted as Ken loudly led Yohji down the stairs into the kitchen, still going on his play-by-play. Obviously, it was beer time. Omi glanced longingly toward the kitchen, then turned back to see Aya gazing thoughtfully at him.

Slowly, Aya placed a mark in his book and closed it. “Do we need to talk?”

Omi bit his lip and nodded.

Aya nodded and stood. “Let’s go up to my room. It won’t be so…” He cut off with a frown.

Omi sat up, twisting to look out the window to see what Aya saw. “Oh no.”

It was Birman and Manx.

–*–

“You boys don’t look happy to see us,” Manx drawled, setting down the tea Omi had hastily provided.

They sat in the main room of the house since there was no “mission room.” Manx and Birman sat on the couch. Yohji slouched in the one big chair with Aya leaning against the wall, arms crossed, behind him. Ken had brought in a chair from the kitchen and straddled it backwards. Omi knelt on the floor across from the women.

“Of course we’re happy to see you,” Omi chirped.

Yohji fought a grimace. Knew he was pouting. Of all the rotten timing! Couldn’t Krittiker have waited another month? Another week?! Why the hell did they show up the day after he finally got Aya in his bed?

Manx slanted a glance his way. “Are you happy to see us, Balinese?”

He manufactured the patented Kudoh smirk for her. He’d slept with her once and she firmly believed he pined for her. No sense in disabusing her of that yet. “Wanna go upstairs and find out?”

She chuckled, happy. “In your dreams, Balinese.”

Not anymore.

“What does Krittiker want?” Aya finally spoke up.

Yohji wanted to turn and assure Aya that he was kidding, but he didn’t dare. He could only hope that Aya saw through where Manx didn’t.

“Actually, it’s a little thing,” Birman spoke up, tearing her eyes from Ken. She had a thing for him. Yohji wondered now if Ken even noticed. “And we only need Bombay and Abyssinian.”

Yohji barely beat down a snarl.

“Why just them?” Ken asked.

Birman gazed fondly at him. “So eager to get back to work, Siberian?”

“No. But we’re a team. If it’s dangerous, we should all go.”

“It’s not that dangerous,” Manx declared. “At least, not for Weiss. We only need you to retrieve some information. That’s why Bombay is needed.” She looked at him with a smile. “You should be able to crack into their system easily, but the information is on an intranet that’s completely secure.”

“And Aya?” Yohji asked, struggling for his accustomed drawl.

“Isn’t he the best suited for Bombay’s protection?”

She was watching them too closely. Yohji kept his eyes averted, wishing he had his sunglasses. Where were his sunglasses?

“It’s a simple thing. Two days tops.” Birman dropped a folder on the table before Omi. “All the information is there.”

“When?” Aya asked. Yohji’s heart fell to hear that emotionless voice again. After they’d come so far, he wasn’t ready for Abyssinian’s return.

“You’ll need to leave within the hour. Your hideout is time-sensitive.”

Omi slid the folder across the table toward him and opened it, bending his head over the papers. They waited a moment.

“Bombay?” Aya asked.

“We can do this,” Omi said and Yohji heard his voice changed too. Full Bombay mode, mind like a computer.

Crap!

The women must have heard it too. As one they rose.

“We’ll leave you to your preparations then. Instructions for reporting back are in the folder, Bombay. We’ll leave a car for you in the carport.”

Omi nodded, not even glancing up. Manx raised her eyebrows at his unaccustomed rudeness, but said nothing. Yohji sighed and unfolded himself from the chair to see them out.

Manx paused in the open door of the car to look up at him. All mirth was gone from her pretty face. “We’re well aware of the debt we owe you, Balinese. The debt we owe all of you. You’ve put your life on the line countless times and you’ve quite literally saved the world.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. So?”

She grimaced. “We’re avoiding using you. We want to give you space. Allow you to live. But… Damn it, the four of you are the best that we have.”

He squinted at her, again wishing he had his sunglasses. “Trouble brewing?”

“Maybe. We can’t tell. Were hoping the information Abyssinian and Bombay retrieve will prove us wrong.”

He nodded. “They’ll get it.”

She smiled. “We know they will.” She paused, studying him. “Be well, Kudoh.”

He stood in the carport and watched them go. He snarled and spun, racing back into the house. Up the stairs, down the hall, into Aya’s open doorway.

The redhead had a bag open and half packed already. The wrapped katana lay on the dresser. Jeans had replaced the drawstring pants and a loose, sleeveless t-shirt covered that pale chest.

Yohji stood in the doorway, mourning the loss of the warm lover he’d enjoyed just a few hours ago. He glanced back into the hallway. Ken was nowhere in sight or sound and Omi would be in his own room, getting packed. He stepped into Aya’s room and closed the door.

Aya didn’t even look up from his packing. “Yohji, don’t.”

He stepped toward Aya as the swordsman shoved more stuff into the bag and zipped it shut. “What?”

“I don’t have time…” He froze, bent over the bag.

Yohji crossed the room and stopped beside him. He reached out to smooth red hair back from that perfect face. “Aya, look at me.”

Aya took a deep breath, then did that. The cold mask was back, that icy demeanor chilling in those violet eyes. Yohji reached up to cup his face and was thrilled to see him start to melt. “Yotan.”

“I know you don’t have time for much, but kiss me once more, huh? Give me something to keep me warm until you come back?”

A smile fought at the corners of Aya’s mouth. One long fingered hand reached up to enclose Yohji’s wrist. “Didn’t I give you enough last night, baka?”

Yohji leaned in to nuzzle Aya’s cheek. “No, Ayan. It wasn’t enough.” He kissed the beginning of the smile at the edge of Aya’s mouth. “I’m not sure if there’ll ever be enough.”

Aya groaned as Yohji started to nibble at his lips. Strong arms slid around Yohji’s waist, pulling him close. Aya opened his mouth and quested forward with his tongue, finding Yohji’s and chasing it into his mouth.

“Make it fast, huh Ayan?” Yohji breathed when he pulled back. “Come back soon. ‘Cos I dearly want you to fuck me.”

Aya’s eyes opened and met his. “You mean that?”

“God yes.”

They kissed again. Briefly, but only because Aya had more willpower than Yohji. He pushed away from the embrace and grabbed his bag. “I’m going to hold you to that, Yohji.” He said as he grabbed his katana and left the room.