Weiß Kruez – Night Out – Part 1 of 6

This entry is part 1 of 6 in the series Weiss Kruez Night Out

© 2005 Jet Mykles for the story. The characters however are not mine. Click here for more info on these beautiful kitties. Or check out the Bishonenworks WK gallery, which is where my obsession began.

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.

And the nightclub Outkast is purely fictional.



Aya sighed, placing a bookmark into his book and setting it aside. He sat for a moment in the armchair, listening to Yohji’s voice go on and on about the various virtues—or lack thereof—of his latest conquest. Esset may be foiled, Aya-chan may be awake and in school, the Koneko and the flowershop may be far behind, but some things never changed. Kudoh Yohji was one of those things.

Aya wondered if he should proceed with the plan he’d half-concocted over the past few months. But, when Yohji started to mention that not only had the female in question but her girlfriend as well had been interested, his decision was made.

Enough of this.

He rose from the armchair and crossed the den to the kitchen. Yohji’s narrative broke off at his entrance, both he and Ken looking up from the beers before them. Aya crossed to the refrigerator and extracted a bottle of water, all under the perusal of lazy green eyes.

“Yohji, will you be going anywhere near Outkast tonight?”

Some of the laziness drained into confusion. “The nightclub?”



Aya shrugged, raising the bottle to his lips. “I thought I’d catch a lift.”

He took a sip to avoid the smirk, careful to keep his face calm as he inwardly chuckled at the open faced shock on both Yohji and Ken’s faces.

“To Outkast?”


You want to go to a nightclub?” Ken burst out.

Aya arched a brow at him. “I used to go there. Before…” He shrugged, knowing they’d get the picture at least part of the picture. Before Weiss.

“You did?!” Yohji and Ken exclaimed together.

Aya rolled his eyes, keeping his mirth disguised. “Yes.”

He turned to Yohji, who was still digesting Aya’s words. He was so adorable with shock coloring those angular features. He forced a glare. “Well?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I could go to Outkast tonight.”

Aya shrugged. “You don’t have to go. Just drop me off.”

“How will you get home?”

He let a rare smile take his lips, carefully calculating its effect. “I plan to get lucky.”


Yohji nearly fell off his stool. Ken did fall back in his chair and nearly toppled to the floor. They both watched, slack-jawed, as Aya left the room.

“I couldn’t have just heard what I think I just heard,” Yohji muttered. He raised a hand to his ear, firmly plugging the pinkie finger into it and wiggling it inside. He turned to Ken, who had just righted his seat. “Tell me what he just said.”

Ken turned to him slowly, still plainly showing shock. “He just said he planned to get lucky.”

Yohji screwed his face up in disgust. “Ken! How dare you say such a thing about Aya!”

Ken grimaced, finally popping to his feet in a disgusting show of athletic ability. “Fuck you, Kudoh. You know damn well what he said.”

Yohji shook his head. “He must’ve meant something else.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

The two men sat a moment in silence, trying to think of what that “something else” might be. Neither could come up with anything.

Yohji wanted desperately to go after the redhead and demand what he meant. But the reigning fear in his head was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. In the entire time he’d known Aya, he’d seen the man in a nightclub exactly once. It’d been for a mission. Aya had been reluctant to say the least, and almost violently uncomfortable. They’d left all club surveillance to Yohji and Ken after that.

They finished their beers and Yohji realized that he no longer heard the shower upstairs. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was six and about time he started his own evening ablutions. He stood, casting Ken a questioning glance when he stood too.

“What? You don’t think I was going to miss this did you?”

Yohji glared, at which Ken only laughed. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll take the Yamaha. Hey, Omi!” he called, exiting the room. “What’re you doin’ tonight?”

Grumbling, Yohji headed up the stairs, placing an unlit cigarette to his lips as he went. He went out every practically every night and no one blinked an eye, but when Aya decides to go out, it’s an occasion.

He thought about it. Well… yeah, it was. Aya just didn’t party. Period.

He paused by Aya’s door. The door was cracked. The temptation too great. With one finger, he pushed it open farther.

And froze.

Aya stood at his dresser, staring into the mirror and dragging a brush through shining red hair. At least a dozen bangles clattered on each wrist, some of them almost lost in the voluminous sleeves of a shimmering lavender shirt that was at least three sizes too big. Only the bottom three buttons of the shirt were fastened, exposing a tantalizing view of Aya’s pale, hairless chest. Low slung black—leather?!—jeans hugged lean hips and miles of legs to taper over the tops of classy black boots. The entire ensemble—with the exception of the lavender color which just didn’t do a thing for him—looked like something Yohji would wear. Which meant the outfit was totally out of character for Aya.

Aya tossed the brush to the dresser but continued to finger his bangs and eartails. His crimson hair was much longer than it had been before their last battle with Esset, falling nearly to his shoulders.

“You ready?”

When Yohji didn’t answer, Aya twisted his head to look at him.



“Who are you and what the hell did you do with Aya?”

Aya glared, dark red brows crowding kohl-lined violet eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about, Kudoh?”

Yohji had to step closer. “You are wearing eyeliner!”

Nonplussed, Aya faced the mirror again. “Mmm. Too much?” he asked casually, using a pinky finger to lightly smudge some of the black beneath one eye.

“What the hell…? Where did you get eyeliner?”

To his utter amazement, Aya just smiled. “Bought it the other day. I used to wear it all the time.”

Yohji wasn’t sure what the sound was that gurgled from his throat, but it made Aya laugh. A real, evilly-sexy laugh. A laugh that, if it came from a woman, would instantly harden Yohji’s cock.

Hold on a sec! He took mental stock. It had hardened his cock!

Stunned by that little revelation, he took a step back, placing himself back into the doorway, away from the stunning vision that was Aya. Aya who was back to fingering his hair, artfully disheveling it. The bangles clacked, drawing attention to his deceptively fragile-looking wrists. Fragile? Hardly!

“Go get dressed, Kudoh.”

“Right,” Yohji agreed, obediently turning toward his own room.

Once there, he lit the cigarette that he’d forgotten he’d held and drew in a deep, comforting lungful of smoke. The image of Aya in his sinful lavender and black getup wouldn’t fade from Yohji’s mind. He’d always known his teammate was hot. Anyone, female or male, would have to be blind to miss it and Kudoh Yohji was decidedly not blind. Aya was the flame that drew many a moth and Yohji had seen countless people fall for him only to be rebuffed. There’d even been a target once who’d died with a scary smile on his face as he memorized Aya’s face for his trip to hell. Back when they’d been at the Koneko—before Kritteker had moved them after Esset—oodles of young girls had sighed many a sigh over Aya, even as he yelled at them to buy something or get the hell out.

But where was his gruff, glaring, stay-the-fuck-away-from-me teammate? Certainly not in that luscious lavender sundae with the cherry on top?

To his horror, Yohji found himself licking his lips at the thought of the taste of that cherry.

Muttering to himself, he flung open his closet. Not to be outdone, Yohji chose a green suede vest that he knew set off his eyes to perfection and low, tight black jeans. He hung a single cross on a gold chain from his neck, stabbed an emerald stud into his earlobe and left his hair loose.

Not that he was adverse to men, he assured himself. He was a modern, open-minded individual. He’d slept with two men in his life, but neither an experience that he particularly wanted to repeat. The kissing and groping had been ok, but the rest didn’t do much for him. But never had another man blindsided him like Aya just had. Again, he’d known Aya was hot. He’d eyed him more than once over the past few years. But not until tonight had Aya ever given off the vibes that he was available.


And Yohji was struggling to figure out why that affected him so.


Aya struggled not to grin as they drove through the streets of Tokyo with Yohji at the wheel of the Seven. He couldn’t be more please with Yohji’s reaction to his appearance.

Aya had thought a lot about doing this, something like tonight. Once things had calmed into a routine after the fall of Esset, once he was sure that Aya-chan was safe and sound with school and no worse the wear for her brother’s “death”, he’d been able to turn his thoughts to more personal decisions.

Yes, he’d been to Outkast before. Before Weiss. During his time with the Crashers while desperately seeking the murderers of his parents. He’d learned quickly the advantage he had with his unusual coloring and had learned to use his violet eyes to their best advantage. He’d discovered the name of Takatori. But then the cold, hard killer had settled in. The obsession had taken him over and turned his heart to ice by the time he’d joined Weiss. He’d allowed that personality to rule during that time, aware that his teammates grew to mean more and more to him with each passing day but trying not to let that get in the way of his revenge.

Now that the revenge was had, it was hard to toss off that cold exterior. It had served him so well for so long. He also wasn’t sure that it wasn’t part of what his teammates liked about him. He was dependable. He was responsible. He dressed them down and kept them in line. Would they accept a more carefree side of him?

Would they accept the sexuality he’d kept from them? He’d been carefully asexual during their years together. The only truly trying time had been when Omi was certain that he and Sakura could be together. Little did Omi know that Sakura was the wrong sex to hold Aya’s lasting interest. But he’d decided it was time. He needed to let loose, if only a little, and he needed to find out if he had a chance at the man who’d held his fancy since they’d first met.

He glanced sidelong at Yohji’s face. Golden hair whipped straight nose, long chin and elegant, high cheeks. Sinfully full lips caressed the butt of a cigarette that Aya had no idea how he kept lit. The ever-present sunglasses perched atop his head, somewhat holding his hair back. Long-lashed green eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

Aya turned to the road himself, lest he be caught. He wasn’t ready for that. Yohji wasn’t ready for that. The sight of Aya tonight had rather effectively cracked some of his preconceived notions, which served Aya’s purposes admirably. He didn’t want to blow the poor man’s mind completely apart by revealing the attraction he’d ruthlessly squashed and hidden over the years.

Not yet anyway.

First he had to find out if the rampant heterosexual had homosexual tendencies. If so, then he had to discover if Yohji was into redheads.


“I wouldn’t believe this if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.”

Yohji didn’t even glance at Ken, who stood by his side. No, he was quite effectively entranced, even forgetting the cigarette held by his fingers, as he watched Aya dance.

Of course Aya was graceful. Yohji had seen him fly through the air too many times, had seen way to many katas, had watched him battle too many opponents with the grace of a panther not to know that Aya’s body just had moves that normal human beings didn’t possess. But even knowing that didn’t prepare him for the sight of Aya in that flashy lavender shirt that he almost wore, grinding up against another guy! Pelvises locked, Aya’s back gracefully slumped, one arm draped over the bare shoulder of his partner. His partner’s hand possessively gripping Aya’s thigh, locking them together. The man dipped forward, pressing his forehead to Aya’s. Yohji couldn’t see his face through the fall of crimson hair. He turned his head slightly, flipping it to the side. His partner dipped in and tasted the long column of Aya’s neck.

Tobacco covered Yohji’s fingers as the cigarette snapped between them. He didn’t even notice.

“Holy shit!” Ken cried.

“Where did Aya-kun learn to do that?” breathed Omi, barely heard above the throb of the music.

Yohji wanted to tear his eyes away. He wanted to pretend like it didn’t matter. He wanted to turn around and find the next available female and ply her with the patented Kudoh-charm. With a supreme effort, he lowered his gaze, intent on lighting his cigarette. He frowned to find it broken but wasted little time in fishing out another. “Obviously, there’s a lot we don’t know about Aya,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t even know he was gay,” Ken marveled.

Somewhere in his mind, as they drove to the club, Yohji had convinced himself that he and Aya were indeed going to get lucky tonight. They’d both score a girl, maybe share drinks, then Yohji would drive them all back to the house. He and Aya would exchange morning-after stories. It would have been the glorious start to an unbeatable pair. They were going to leave a path of sighing female admirers for years to come. It had been a good image. It had made him feel better about his instant reaction to Aya. Why wouldn’t he want his partner in female conquest to be astonishingly good looking?

He was quite unprepared to watch as Aya went out on his own and, through the course of three songs, had managed to successfully convey that he was interested in men. And where the hell had all of them come from anyway?! Yes, Outkast was known to cater to people of all leanings, but Yohji had been there plenty of times and had never noticed so many gay men. But they certainly noticed Aya. He was as much an attraction for them as Yohji usually was for the ladies.

Speaking of which…

“All right. Enough with the side show.” Yohji took a drag of his cigarette then stubbed it out even though he was only halfway finished. “Time to join the fun.” He stepped away from their table and threw Ken and Omi a wink. “See you guys later.”


Aya knew the instant Yohji hit the dance floor. He was sure he fancied it, but it was like the dance area developed a warm pulse and the heart behind it was Yohji. Through a veil of crimson bangs, he watched the blond gather women like moths to a flame. He folded his long, thin body around one, then another, paying special attention to all without singling out any.

Aya’s partner—Kasumi?—spun him away and he suppressed a hiss of annoyance as his view of Yohji was obstructed. But he couldn’t be obvious, even though he wanted very badly to watch the graceful sway of Yohji’s hips and envy the female backside against which it was pressed. Even though the blatantly heterosexual moves dashed Aya’s hopes for the night.

Swallowing a sigh, Aya disengaged himself from his partner, pleading the need to pee, and escaped. He reached the darkened hallway in the back before the man’s arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. Aya grabbed one wrist and twisted both it and his body in a neat move that had the Kasumi’s face pressed to the playbills pasted to the walls, Aya holding his arm at a painful angle behind his back.


Irritated at more than the Kasumi’s audacity, Aya leaned in close to his ear. “What the hell were you doing?”

“I thought… I thought you wanted to get busy.”

Aya scowled. He yanked Kasumi’s arm, making it hurt a little more. “A quickie in the men’s room wasn’t what I’d had in mind.”

“OK, OK! I get it. Lemme go!”

With pleasure, Aya did just that. Kasumi gave Aya a wild-eyed glance then fled. Unaffected by a look he’d seen countless times, Aya turned and put the man from his mind. He was pretty sure he’d seen the last of Kasumi for the night.

Not that it mattered. He went ahead to the bathroom, giving himself time to think. Did he want to pick up someone and test his other theory? Did he want to see if it was just sex that he wanted or if it was sex with Yohji?

Yes, he probably should.


Yohji’s nose was buried in red silky hair at the apex of a soft, fragrant neck, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin just beneath the curve on an ear, when someone hauled on his arm to pull him away.

“Hey!” he protested.

He stumbled into Aya, the one who’d pulled. Aya stared past him at the woman Yohji’d been tasting. “Excuse him a moment.”

“Don’t move, darling’,” Yohji drawled, stumbling artfully backward as Aya continued to pull him out of hearing range.

“What?” he demanded when Aya let them stop.

Aya held out a pale, long-fingered hand. “Condoms.”


The fingers wiggled. “Come on, I know you’ve got some and I forgot. Give over.”

Yohji’s heart stopped. “What for?”

The look Aya gave him might be suitable for a teacher putting a petulant child in his place. “What do you think?”

Yohji tried to smile. Not sure he succeeded. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Does it matter?”

Yes! No! Yohji mentally shook himself, outwardly shrugging. “Just looking out for you.”

“I can look out for myself.” Aya snapped his fingers. “Condoms.”

Unable to think of a better answer for not giving over the condoms than that he didn’t want some guy inside Aya—God, the very idea made the fit of his jeans uncomfortable!—Yohji fished in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and produced a foil wrapper.

Aya snatched it from him and imperiously leaned forward to dip his fingers into the wallet to extract a second packet.


Astoundingly, Aya smiled up at him, reached up to pat his cheek fondly, then turned and sauntered away. Scowling, Yohji watched him cross the room to stop by the side of a short blond dressed in carefully tattered jeans and a tight black midriff. The man welcomed Aya back warmly, circled his waist with lean, muscular arms and planted a wet kiss on Aya’s perfect mouth.

Yohji saw red. Not the red of Aya’s hair. The red of get-your-fucking-hands-off-what’s-mine! Only through sheer willpower did he stay rooted to his spot, but nothing could tear his eyes away from Aya’s ass as it retreated from the club with that guy’s hand fondly cupping it.

Soft, female arms slid around his waist. Small breasts pressed against his side and a toned thigh slid against the front of his leg. “Everything OK, lover?”

Automatically, Yohji’s arm went around her shoulders. His gaze free of Aya, he was free to turn it on the girl, but the anger wasn’t so easy to tamp.

Pulling her tighter against him, he used his free hand to cup her chin and tilt her lips to his. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”


Aya stepped from the cab into the crisp morning air. The sidewalk was deserted and the loudest sound was the wind through the trees. He paid the cab driver then entered the alley beside the house to the back door. Straight into the kitchen. Omi and Ken were both up, as expected. Ken was due for his morning run and Omi just tended to get up to keep him company. They’d not yet developed a cover like the flower shop. Not since Esset. Krittiker still had them on off-duty status, allowing them to full recover before going back on full duty.

“Good morning, Aya-kun!” Omi said from the stove where he was cooking eggs. “How was your…uh…?”

Aya allowed the smile to take his lips. Ken and Omi had left long before he’d demanded the condoms from Yohji.

Ken snorted. “All right, Aya! Yohji told us you went home with some hot piece of ass.”

“Ken!” Omi chided.

Aya blinked, surprised. “What?”

A lanky figure appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Yohji? Up before noon? He stopped, leaning in the doorway, crossing slimly muscular arms over his bare chest. Loosely tied pajama bottoms looked close to sliding down his lean hips. “So? How was he?”

“What are you doing up? What are you doing home?” He chose to allow the smug grin that took his lips. “What happened to the redhead?”

“Oh, we got to know each other last night,” Yohji drawled. “I just didn’t feel like lingering.”

“Why not? To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence this morning?” Aya’s lashes shuttered over his eyes and he knew his grin was evil. “Had to find out how my night went?”

Indignation flared in Yohji’s eyes before he manhandled it into amusement. “Do you blame me? Not once, in all the time I’ve known you, have you gone off on a one-nighter. My curiosity is piqued. Although, it couldn’t have been that good if you came home in a cab.”

And he knew this, how? Looking out for me? Aya shrugged, not about to give all his secrets away. “It was easier. He lives too far away.”

“Didn’t want him to be able to track you down?”

Another shrug. “Perhaps that too.”

As suspicion took Yohji’s intent, green-eyed stare, Aya blatantly yawned. “If you’ll excuse me, it was a long night and I didn’t get much sleep.”

With that, he left his teammates for a shower and then the sanctuary of his own room.

He wasn’t about to tell them what really happened. Yes, he’d gone back to Thomas’ hotel room. The man was in town only briefly on business. He was in music or something, Aya didn’t quite recall. Didn’t quite care. Yes, Aya had fucked and been fucked. He enjoyed it. Missed sucking cock, but there was no way he was trusting a stranger’s bodily fluids to that extent. He’d left the man sound asleep somewhere around three AM and had spent the remainder of the night in the hotel’s always open café, buying and finishing a novel that he now could now hardly remember the title of.

The entire night had only served to prove the point to him. Sex was nice, but he could do without. What he really wanted was sex with Yohji, and—despite his intriguing interest this morning—that didn’t look like it was in the cards.

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