© 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.
– EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY –
Yohji flinched back from the open window. “What?!”
He spun to face Ken, who leaned in his doorway, fingers hooked above him on the doorframe. It made the muscles of the bare arms poking out of his sleeveless t-shirt all the more evident. And why the hell are you noticing Ken’s body?
Ken flipped tousled brown bangs from his eyes. “I called you like a dozen times.”
Yohji smashed out his cigarette. “I was thinking.” About a certain redhead’s incredibly hot body.
“You’re kidding. When’d you start that?”
He scowled at Ken and extracted another cigarette. “Ha ha. What the fuck do you want?”
Yohji flipped him the bird as he lit the cigarette, a useless talent of which he was particularly proud.
Ken, who’d seen it many times, only snorted. “Omi and me are gonna go to that game. Wanna come?”
Yohji frowned. “That’s a fucking long drive.”
“We’re gonna get a room and stay the night.”
Yohji fought the images that sprang to mind. Lately he’d noticed Ken and Omi seemed a little too close and he so did not want to picture Ken doing things to the chibi. Ok, yeah, Omi was almost nineteen now, but that was entirely beside the point.
But if they were together, that’d make a thing with you and Aya so much easier, he thought.
Then told himself to shut the fuck up!
He blew out smoke. “Nah. You two go ahead.”
Ken shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’re not leaving for another hour so let me know if you change your mind.”
After Ken left, Yohji stared at the smoke spiraling up from the tip of his cigarette. Ken and Omi were going out. They’d be gone until well into the next day. That means he’d be alone with…
He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying very hard not to plan. Trying not to want what he really, really wanted.
One week of pure torture. One week since Aya had come home with that freshly fucked attitude. Yohji had not meant to be up at that ungodly hour, but he never had gotten to sleep. He’d returned from his own night of tepid sex hours before Aya showed his face. He’d caught Ken and Omi playing video games—yeah, they came home from a club to play video games together? What does that say?—and had filled them in on Aya’s antics. He’d tossed and turned most of the night and had been sitting in his window, smoking, when Aya’s cab had arrived. The mere sight of the man had gotten him half hard!
He was still in his room musing when Omi came by to give him one last chance to go. He declined and listened to the sounds of the younger members of Weiss leaving.
Not long after, he gave up the fight and went to find the object of his obsession.
He found Aya in the den, reading. Curled at the edge of the couch, feet tucked underneath that trim little ass, reading glasses perched on the end of his sharp nose, he looked adorable as hell.
Violet eyes glanced up, barely visible underneath the overhang of crimson bangs. “Hey.”
“The children are gone. Wanna go out?”
Did he see the glimmer of a smile? “Not interested.”
Yohji crossed the room and plopped down next to him, unwilling to take that for an answer. “Why? You could get lucky again. Didn’t you have fun with the boy-toy you took home?”
Yeah, that was definitely a grin curling Aya’s full mouth. “I didn’t take him home and I believe I was the toy.”
Yohji went blind. He couldn’t see anything except a blatantly erotic image of Aya spread on a bed, legs coiled around Yohji’s waist while Yohji…
He shut his eyes and turned away quickly.
“What’s the matter, Kudoh? I didn’t think you were homophobic?”
He spun around to see Aya eyeing him speculatively. “I’m not and you know it. That was just…” he chuckled, “a rather vivid image.”
“Sorry.” Except Aya didn’t sound sorry at all, as he turned a page in his book. In fact, it sounded…
“Are you teasing me, Fujimiya?” he asked archly.
“Would I do that?”
Yohji narrowed his eyes. Aya looked like he was back to reading and there might only be a trace of a smile. But…
“Huh. I didn’t take you for a tease, Aya.”
“I don’t tease, Kudoh. I deliver.”
Yohji shivered. He actually shivered. It started at the base of his neck and shimmied down his spine to rest in the base of his groin. From there, it none-too-gently prodded his cock to wake it up.
That did it!
He rounded on Aya, pressing forward to kneel on the couch facing the swordsman. The effect was instantaneous. The book flew to the floor and Aya half rounded, his instincts making him ready for an attack even from someone he trusted. He faced Yohji, one hand out to ward, the other poised to attack and long red hair partially obscuring the pale triangle of his face. All lean and sleek like a cobra. It set Yohji’s blood boiling. All that coiled heat was hidden behind a wall of ice and the ice looked to be melting.
“Come out with me tonight,” he demanded, grinning evilly at Aya.
Violet blazed at him from behind heavy, dark lashes that were longer than they needed to be. His hand lowered, mirroring Yohji’s on the back of the couch and on his thigh. “Why?”
“I crave your company.”
Aya smirked at Yohji’s drawl. “Why?”
“I want to see if it was a fluke.”
“You attracting guys like moths to a flame.”
Aya’s smile turned grim. “I’m not interested.”
“Don’t want to fuck?”
Yohji heard himself say the words. Instantly realized how they could be taken. Fleetingly wondered if he should clarify. Was shocked to realize that part of him wanted Aya to take it the wrong way…
“Not a one-nighter,” Aya answered after a long, considering pause.
Eye contact never broke. “What do you want?”
“It’s got to mean something. Otherwise it’s just—“ he shrugged, “—exercise.”
Yohji laughed. He laughed harder when Aya grinned and he realized that the stoic swordsman had made a joke. Where had this delightful Aya been in the past few years? Teasing? Joking? This was too much fun!
“Fine. We’ll go back to Outkast. Dancing. We’ll agree to come home together. Alone.”
Did Aya’s eyes flare at that? Triumph? What?
“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your conquest, Kudoh. I know you need sex like you need food.”
Yohji shrugged, struggling for casual even though the challenging glare they shared was anything but. Jesus, he was getting hard. He wanted so very badly to glance down to see if he was the only one, but he didn’t dare. “You know very well I can do without. I just don’t like to.”
“Again, I ask why.”
“And again, I say I want to see if you can do it again.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It could be.”
To his utter amazement and delight, Aya returned with: “I accept.”
This time Aya went with a shimmery black top that was tight enough look painted on. The sleeves were long, covering pale, muscular arms, but the hem was high, baring a cobbled midriff. His worn jeans—and how they got worn Yohji didn’t know because he’d never seen them before—were low enough to expose sharp hipbones and the last curve of his belly as it turned into his groin. The wrist bangles were absent this time, abandoned in favor of no less than four necklaces that fell heavy from his long slender neck.
And damn it if he wasn’t doing it again! Within the space of one song, Aya was surrounded by men, each one trying to catch and hold his writhing body. None could. At least not for long. He slid through embraces like water.
Yohji watched, grinning and enthralled from the bar. He’d decided to start with a drink and a smoke, encouraging Aya to try the dance floor alone. Accepting the unspoken challenge, Aya had stalked out and his flashing red hair immediately caught attention. He made his preferences obvious from the start by pressing up against one guy’s back, one Yohji actually recognized from the previous night. The man had taken one glance over his shoulder, seen Aya, and had immediately thrown his arms back to try and keep that precious treasure.
Yohji twirled the dregs of his drink then downed the alcohol. He toyed with the last bit of his cigarette, considering. He’d purposely not called attention to himself yet. He’d not made more than fleeting eye contact with any of the women around. The idea that had formed in his head was irrevocable. Once done, it couldn’t be undone. He had to think about it carefully and he’d still not made up his mind.
Aya poured into the arms of a man, allowing himself to be momentarily caught. Big, muscled arms pulled him close and he rested his chin on one wide shoulder. He opened violet cat eyes and immediately focused on Yohji. Even across the room, Yohji felt the heat of it, the promise. The plea. The demand. “Come and get me.”
Discarding the cigarette in a nearby ashtray, Yohji approached his prey. Heavy lidded violet eyes never left him, even as he swayed him to the beat of the music. When Yohji was close, Aya pulled back, disentangling himself from his current partner. The man grabbed. Aya spun. The man missed. Yohji caught the prize.
Aya easily plastered his back against Yohji. His ass fit nicely into the curve of Yohji’s groin. Yohji folded long arms around his catch, tossing a glare at the man who’d just lost. Disgruntled, the man backed off.
He ignored the panicked voice in his head that told him he was making a mistake, that this was Aya not some piece of ass, that there were people who knew him here and his actions would be remembered. This felt too good to stop. He’d deal with the consequences later.
He buried his nose in the back of Aya’s neck and breathed deep. Sweat, light, spicy cologne and, most of all, musky, heady Aya.
He eased off his embrace a bit, allowing Aya to move. Surprisingly, the redhead stayed with him, reaching back to tangle long, strong fingers into his hair. He made short work of the band holding back Yohji’s hair then sifted through the loose locks. Yohji slid his hands down the hard planes of Aya’s chest, intrigued by the silkiness of the top but downright captivated by the finer silk of the bare skin of Aya’s belly. He flattened one hand over Aya’s navel then slid the other halfway up underneath the shirt. And Aya let him. Aya moved with him. Aya tossed his head to the side to expose the long column of his neck to Yohji’s nuzzling. Yohji caught himself before he kissed him. Wasn’t quite sure he was ready for that yet, although it was pretty clear they’d already stepped on the path.
Besides, Aya had to feel how turned on he was.
After what seemed like forever but was probably only minutes, Aya squirmed in Yohji’s loose embrace. He escaped just enough to spin around and face Yohji. They danced with an arm’s length of space between them, Aya’s hand curving around the back of Yohji’s neck and Yohji’s thumbs tucked into the waistband at Aya’s hips. They moved to the music, unconsciously complementing each other. Through countless battles, both training and reality, they had finely honed instincts about each other. Their eyes locked on each other in a battle of wills, matching daring grins to their lips.
It was Aya who tugged, pulling Yohji closer until they were pressed together. This time chest to chest. Aya had to tilt up just a bit to keep eye contact with the taller assassin. He didn’t seem to mind a bit, winding strong arms around Yohji’s neck to bring him even closer.
That’s when it registered in Yohji’s brain. Aya was hard. Every bit as hard as he was. Aya was also going to kiss him.
And he was going to let him.
Aya’s lips were like nothing he expected. He expected hard, grimacing lips and instead got soft and yielding. How could a man so toned, so hard, how could lips that could scowl so coldly be so damn warm and soft? Like honeyed butter, those lips melted under his, opening to lure his tongue into the marvelous cavern that was Aya’s mouth. Yohji could only wonder, unaware that his arms slid possessively around Aya’s waist.
Aya was lost. He’d been right, and not at all prepared at how right he was. It wasn’t sex. It was Yohji. Kissing Yohji was everything that kissing that other man wasn’t. Heated, raw, sensual, skillful. The tip of Yohji’s nose pressed into Aya’s cheek, his breath warm and growing frantic as their tongues entwined.
Aya knew Yohji’s mind was scrambling. He knew his teammate was struggling with this even as he enjoyed it as much as Aya. He would be wondering, just like Aya, if this really was a good idea at all. Hopefully, like Aya, he was too far gone in lust to care.
Summoning every bit of his considerable willpower, Aya pulled away from Yohji. When the taller man melted forward, chasing the kiss, Aya grabbed his hair and tugged. That got Yohji’s attention. The jump in the cock that was pressed against his gave him further insight into what turned Yohji on.
Don’t pull back on me now, Kudoh! He begged silently.
Summoning outward calm, he stared at Yohji’s eyes until they focused on him. “Home, Kudoh.”
It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. Then those fabulous green eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure we should…?”
“We can’t stop now. At least, I can’t.”
To Aya’s supreme relief, heat flared in Yohji’s eyes. “Neither can I.”
Aya rewarded him with a sultry smile. “Home, Kudoh.” This time, Yohji obeyed.
They disentangled and walked from the dance floor as one. Yohji’s hand resting lightly on his back made Aya’s belly flip ridiculously. He’d never felt this way before. He’d known his attraction to Kudoh was strong, but this was preposterous!
Aya was aware of the looks that followed them and wondered if Yohji was as well. Very likely so. One didn’t survive as an assassin without being hyper-aware of one’s surroundings. But Yohji didn’t give any sign that he noticed as he led Aya into the autumn night.
They didn’t speak as they approached the Seven, nor did they speak as they settled in and Yohji sped into traffic. Anxiety was a cold knot in Aya’s belly as he calculated what to do next. Thoughts of reach out and touching Yohji—his hand, his thigh, his crotch—occurred and were discarded. This was important. They couldn’t fuck this up. This couldn’t become an issue with Weiss. Someday they’d be returned to active duty. Someday they’d have to go back to killing the beasts of the night. Once he had him, Aya would not tolerate being separated from Yohji. Unless….
Unless after tonight Yohji decided it was a big mistake.
Aya decided not to think about that.
They reached the house and Yohji parked. They sat in silence.
Aya’s arm reached out, his hand curled around Yohji’s neck. He turned as he pulled, positioned just perfectly to meet Yohji’s lips when they arrived. Those lips were just as warm, just as plump, just as eager as he could hope.
He released Yohji only because he didn’t want to fuck in the Seven. “Your room, Kudoh.”
He made for the back entrance, trusting Yohji to follow. Behind him, the car door slammed and footsteps caught up with him just as he opened the door. Yohji’s momentum pushed him through the door and he found himself spun then slammed up against the wall.
Yohji grinned down at him. “Want another taste.” Then he swooped down to capture Aya’s mouth.
We’ll never make it upstairs. Again summoning his will, he shoved Yohji back. “Bed.”
“Yeah.” Yohji turned and used those impossibly long legs to gain the stairs in half the time it took Aya.
Which was fine. It meant the door was open by the time he got there. It meant that Yohji was already inside and had tossed his keys to the table. Yohji was already turned to face him.
Aya stood just inside the doorway, letting the door close softly behind him as he took in the sight of Yohji limned by moonlight from the window behind him.
“God you’re beautiful, Kudoh,” he heard himself murmur.
Those green eyes were black in this lighting, but no less huge and no less captivating as they widened. “Me? Christ, Aya, look who’s talking.”
Aya had to have him. Had to touch him. His hands curled in the white silk of Yohji’s shirt and, in an insanely feral gesture, tore it open. Buttons went flying. Yohji’s entire length shuddered and guttering moan tore from his chest. Using his grip on the shirt, Aya shoved him back. Yohji toppled gracefully onto his over-large, unmade bed. Crumpled black sheets embraced him as the ruined white silk of his shirt spilled open to reveal acres of golden skin. Aya pounced, his necklaces jangling as they dropped on Kudoh’s chest. Aya devoured those delicious lips again before tasting a slightly stubbly chin, a long trail of neck and, finally, the expanse of chest. He was only marginally aware of Yohji’s hands on him, pulling at his top. He was too busy finding the flat nub of Yohji’s left nipple, curling his tongue around it then sucking hard to make Yohji jump.
“Aya, God, Aya!”
A long leg curled around Aya’s hip, pulling him down until his belly pressed against a most intriguing hardness. Abandoning the nipple, he kissed and sucked his way down butterscotch skin, sending his hands before him to wrestle open the tight black pants. By the time his mouth arrived—after swirling around a delicious navel—Yohji’s cock was out and weeping for attention.
Aya hesitated. He hadn’t trusted the stranger, after all, and Yohji did sleep around… He palmed Yohji’s cock, eliciting a moan from its owner. It was long. slim and pulsing with energy, just like Yohji. Aya looked up, saw the bow of Yohji’s neck as it arched back. Hedonistic glory, all spread out before him. Doubts flew from Aya’s head and he bent to nibble the head of Yohji’s cock
How he managed not to come, Yohji couldn’t guess. Aya was too good. Aya smoothed back Yohji’s foreskin, exposing the head of his cock to a wet, welcoming mouth. Yohji chanced a glance down and nearly came out of his skin. The moonlight was perfect to show Aya’s lips as they closed around Yohji’s length and slowly slid down. The whole view was framed perfectly by falling hair the color of blood, even in the moonlight.
“Ungh, Aya!” he moaned, sliding his fingers into that amazing hair, cradling Aya’s head as it lifted, pulling those lips up the length of his cock. “Shit!” Back down again, this time with a free hand firmly wrapped around the base, holding it while Aya’s lips popped off the tip and his tongue darted out to lick the slit. Undone, Yohji fell back, unable to concentrate while Aya assaulted him.
When the pressure was too much, he reached down, grabbed a handful of hair and yanked. “Aya, I’m gonna…”
He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or horrified when Aya suddenly stopped. He rose to his knees, a hovering, dark shadow over Yohji’s groin. Eyes trained on Yohji’s face, he pulled of shirt and necklaces and tossed them aside. His hands went to the buttons of his jeans. “I want you to fuck me, Kudoh.”
Yohji blinked, hardly daring to understand.
Jeans parted to reveal more smooth skin and dark pubes. No underwear. God!
“You with me, Yohji?”
Yohji licked his lips. “Oh yeah!”
A smile spread across that shadowed face as Aya edged back and off the bed to drop his pants. “I know you have lube here somewhere, yes?”
Frantic, Yohji half turned to scrabble at the nightstand. Chuckling, Aya shucked his low boots and jeans. Yohji cursed when he had to turn from the lovely sight of Aya’s bobbing cock to look in the drawer for the lube. Aya busied himself with removing Yohji’s boots. Yohji turned back, flopping back onto the bed and dropping lube and condom at his side. Aya leaned over him to hook hands in the waistband of Yohji’s pants. Yohji obliged and lifted his hips so that Aya could get him fully naked.
God! This was really happening!
Aya crawled back up on the bed until he straddled Yohji’s thighs. He picked up the bottle of lube and the condom. He flattened one hand over Yohji’s beating heart and held the packet up between two fingers. “Do we need this?”
Sobering thought. Yohji reached out to fan his fingers over the sharp bones on Aya’s hips. “Not as far as I know. Despite my reputation, I’m always careful.”
Aya played the edge against one kiss-swollen lower lip, as he studied Yohji. With a decisive flick, he tossed it away and sat back to open the lube.
“Aya, it’s OK. Use it.”
It was hard to have a serious conversation as he watched Aya squirt clear liquid on his palm.
“You don’t have to prove… Shit!”
Aya smoothed a wet hand down Yohji’s cock, shutting him up. “I’m not proving anything, Kudoh,” he murmured as he stroked. Yohji was so fucking responsive! His body writhed, like a cat begging for attention. “Except that I’ve wanted you too much and too long to have anything between us.”
Yohji gaped. He might have said something, but Aya guessed the sight of him hitching up and plunging wet fingers in his own ass was a distracting sight. He smiled. Yohji’s hands flexed on his thighs, gripping in time to the mewling moans Aya wasn’t certain Yohji knew he was making.
Aya spent just a tad longer preparing himself than was necessary, happy to provide a show for his lover, but enough was enough. He grabbed Yohji’s cock, pumped it, positioned it, then let gravity help him impale himself on that wonderfully slim, long rod. Yohji’s fingertips bit into his hips painfully, but he barely felt them, too intent on the hot, hard invasion into his body. He gasped, twitched, when Yohji hit that spot. He rolled his hips and made it hit again. Now who was making the helpless mewling noises?
“Aya! So fucking beautiful!”
He heard Yohji’s moan, let it wash over him. Throwing his head back, he braced himself with one hand on Yohji’s thigh and gripped the other around his own cock. Yohji’s hand closed over his.
“Fuck me, Yohji,” he demanded, slamming down to force the other man to move.
“Do it! Oh… yeah!”
Once given the green light, Yohji didn’t stop. He pushed up as Aya slid down. They found a voluptuous rhythm together, just like they had dancing. It was too sublime, to good.
“Aya, fuck!” Yohji tensed, slamming up. His cock expanded and blasted.
“Yes!” Aya heard himself as his own balls filled then exploded up and over his hand. Warm splatters on Yohji’s belly.
Aya stayed where he was for a beautiful moment, arched back over Yohji’s legs. Warmth rushed through his blood and an unexpected feeling of utter completion made his muscles go weak. Breathing a groan, he pushed forward and fell gracefully atop Yohji, joining the other man in the attempt to breathe normally. Warm, strong arms lifted to encase him, hugging him and sealing their bellies in sticky warmth.
Lips brushed his temple. “That was…”
He pressed his own lips to the collarbone nearest his mouth. “Yeah.”