Fanfic Archive: I Love You -- NOT! 3
May. 28th, 2009 09:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: May, 2007)
Warnings: Shounen-ai / Yaoi. Bad language.
Summary: Being a florist isn't easy -- a realization Aya is forced to come to grips with when Valentine's Day and his own overtaxed imagination work together to give him a horrible day, followed by an equally disturbing evening.
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
I Love You NOT!
(an un-Valentine's Day fanfiction in four parts)
Part 3
Someone was in his room. They hadn't made any noise, but the sensation of another presence, the feeling that something was "not right" nagged at Aya. It worked its way into his subconscious until, finally, it penetrated the foggy haze of his exhaustion and pulled him out of the deep sleep into which he had fallen. Even so, he didn't wake up. Not right away. On any normal night, the feeling of an uninvited presence this close to him would have jolted him into instant wakefulness, no matter how soundly he had been sleeping. But, tonight was not a normal night. It had been a long day. Aya was exhausted. He was in a bad mood. And all he wanted to do was catch a decent night's sleep. It was comfortable there, in the blackness of slumber. Peaceful. He didn't have to know anything. He didn't have to feel anything. He didn't have to think anything. And he wanted to stay there, so much so that he allowed the peace to lull his mind into a haze of apathy that dulled his senses. Somewhere, deep down inside, his mind screamed at him that someone was there. Someone was in his room. Someone had gotten this close to him at a time when he was vulnerable. It wasn't safe. But, Aya had little trouble ignoring that part of his psyche. So, someone was in the room. Big deal. Tonight, he figured, they could have him. If they killed him, it would save him from another day in the flower shop. If he had been awake, Aya might have found that thought amusing. Instead, it barely registered in his mind before he drifted back to sleep.
The illusion of peace didn't last.
Aya felt the mattress shift as his uninvited visitor sat down on the edge of the bed. This was enough to jerk Aya fully awake. Someone in his room was one thing -- a danger he was willing to chance tonight. But, that someone in his bed -- that was something altogether different. Aya's mind switched into assassin mode. It wasn't a conscious decision on his part, but an automatic, instinctive change born from years of long, hard experience.
His brain whirled as he calculated the possibilities. Who had invaded his space like this? How close were they? How hard would it be to get away from this threat? And, most importantly, how would he kill this person without attracting undue attention to Weiss's cover?
Aya forced his mind to slow down. He willed his body to remain relaxed and unmoving, as he pretended he was still asleep. He gave no indication he was aware of the other person's presence. For one thing, he needed these few, precious seconds to assess the situation. For another, he was tired. He didn't want to kill anyone tonight; it was supposed to be his night off from that particular occupation. Maybe, if he stayed very still and pretended to be asleep, his unexpected visitor would wise up and realize breaking into an assassin's room in the dead of night was a bad idea. And, then, maybe they would leave on their own.
Aya cursed mentally as he felt the mattress shift beneath him again, followed by the weight and warmth of another body next to his, indicating his intruder, instead of taking the prudent option of exiting the room, had decided to lie down on the bed.
Aya's muscles tensed as he felt a warm, sweaty hand against his chilled skin. It stroked his body, caressing his cheek and pressing for a moment against his lips before moving down to travel over his chest and stomach. The touch was light and gentle, although it became more hesitant as it moved down the length of his body. It stopped and started across the skin of his chest -- not as if this unknown person were taking their time, enjoying the feel of his body beneath their fingers, but as if they were uncertain and timid about the situation. When the touch reached his stomach, Aya could feel the way it trembled, communicating the uninvited visitor's doubt and hesitation. Even so, the hand never stopped moving, never stopped stroking across Aya's skin and the well-defined muscles in his chest and abdomen.
'Oh no. And, hell no,' Aya thought, as he felt fingers begin to fumble with the waistband of his boxers.
"I know you're awake, baby," a husky voice whispered in his ear, before Aya could say anything.
Aya felt a shock of surprise and dread race through him. He knew that voice. He had heard it every day since he had joined Weiss. Ken's voice. There was no mistaking it, although he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why in the holy hell Ken would be in his room. And, not only in his room, but invading his personal space in such an uncomfortable way. Since when did he and Ken get along well enough for that? On most days, it took all the self control either of them possessed just to stay in the same room without killing each other. And, for that matter, since when was Ken gay?
Aya opened his eyes to find Ken leaning over him, a mixture of desire and anxiety in his eyes. Aya couldn't help thinking the expression made Ken look a little like a love-struck calf.
"You'd better have a fucking good explanation for why you're here. Or, maybe I should just skip the whole embarrassed stammering thing and kill you now," Aya snarled.
He planted his hand on Ken's chest and pushed backward to put some distance between them. At the same time, he used his other hand to shove Ken's questing fingers away from their intended goal.
"Oh, come on, sweetie. Don't be like that. You know why I'm here," Ken whispered, his breath hot and moist against Aya's skin and his words muffled as he bent to kiss Aya's neck.
Baby? Sweetie?
Aya couldn't figure out what the hell was going on here. Maybe Ken was sleepwalking. Maybe he had fallen and hit his head, or maybe Ken had finally gone off the deep end. Aya had thought for a long time now that Ken was the most messed up out of all of them. That it would only be a matter of time before he fell off the narrow ledge of sanity. Maybe, that time had come. Whatever the reason, Aya didn't have the liberty of trying to figure things out, because Ken's hands were, once more, hard at work roaming over Aya's chest and stomach and getting perilously close to what Ken apparently considered the Promised Land.
Aya growled in frustration as he, again, shoved Ken's hands away from the waistband of his underwear. He tried to scoot away from his oddly amorous teammate, but Ken was a little faster, stopping Aya's retreat by grabbing a handful of Aya's hair in an attempt to hold him in place.
This was bad. Really bad. He wanted to get away. He needed to get away. And he didn't want to hurt Ken. For one thing, he couldn't figure out how to explain it to Kritiker. But, more than that, they were in his room, and Aya didn't want to deal with the mess. Not after the crappy day he had already had. It was obvious Ken thought this was nothing more than a game.
A game between lovers.
Just the thought of it was enough to make Aya's stomach clench with dread. He had never encouraged this type of intimacy. He went out of his way to prevent almost any personal contact. Hell, he wasn't even gay. He couldn't figure out how Ken's wires had become so badly crossed. For now, though, Aya realized he didn't have the time to ponder over it. Ken still had a death grip on his hair, and he was using it to draw Aya closer to him for what probably would have been a very passionate, albeit clumsy, kiss. Well, passionate from Ken's point of view, that is.
"You know I love these games, baby. I love it when you play rough," Ken whispered into Aya's ear, laughing as Aya struggled underneath him.
"Then, you're gonna get a big kick out of this," Aya snarled back, as he grabbed Ken by the throat and pushed -- hard.
Ken fell backward and tumbled off of Aya's bed. He landed in an untidy heap on the floor and looked up at Aya with an expression that managed to encompass "confused", "hurt", and "accusing" all at the same time.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Ken demanded.
"Wrong with me? What the hell?!" Aya snapped in return. He sat up and glared at Ken for a few seconds before continuing, "You're in my room. In my bed. I think you're the one who has some explaining to do. Or, maybe you just have a death wish."
"Death wish? Me? What?" Ken stammered, obviously shaken by the sudden disintegration of what he had expected to be a very romantic, love-filled evening. He paused for a few moments to gather his composure before continuing, "I was just … you know … doing what you wanted."
There was an unguarded moment when an expression of confused shock crossed Aya's face. Ken's answer, spoken in the younger man's straight-forward, honest manner, took him so by surprise that he couldn't hide the emotion. But, it was just for a moment -- a heartbeat, maybe two -- and Aya brought his feelings back under control so that his face, once again, revealed nothing about his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he should say in response to Ken's statement, and he couldn't figure out how Ken had gotten this ridiculous idea, in the first place, so he stalled by staring, spearing Ken with an angry, cold glare that caused him to fidget under its weight.
"Why would you think this is what I wanted?" Aya asked, nodding his head toward Ken, who was naked, except for a pair of socks, and still sitting on the floor next to his bed.
Ken chuckled -- a small sound that betrayed his nervousness. Aya's words were edged in venom, and he continued to give Ken that cold, assessing look. All of a sudden, what had seemed certain in Ken's mind felt more than a bit ridiculous, and he couldn't help but hope that Aya was in a generous mood. He realized Aya was waiting. Waiting for answers he didn't have, and he knew he had to make his explanation count. Otherwise, there was a very real chance he wouldn't make it out of this alive. Or, Aya might let him live, but he would end up maimed. Neither was an appealing option, from Ken's point of view.
Ken cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his already-mussed hair. He laughed a little, an involuntary sound born of his nervousness over the situation. Ken knew it made him seem weak and flighty, like one of those ridiculous girls who frequented the shop, and he hated that. He cringed as the nervous laugh escaped his lips, wishing he could tunnel right down into the floor to escape Aya's angry glare. But, that wasn't possible. No matter how much Ken wished otherwise, he was stuck here -- with a love connection gone bad, facing a very pissed off Aya, and wracking his brain for a way to explain himself.
"You know," Ken said, "We've got a connection, right? You feel it too. I know you do. Especially after what you said to me last night at dinner."
Aya frowned down at his confused, love-struck teammate. Had he accidentally led Ken on? Had he led Ken to believe there was a mutual interest here? No matter how much he thought about it, Aya couldn't figure out what he might have done to make Ken believe this was an acceptable situation, and he was beginning to wonder if that damn Schwarz telepath was behind this whole ridiculous fiasco. This would be just the kind of thing that would make Schuldich cackle with glee. At least, Aya thought so, based on what he knew about their rivals.
"At dinner?" Aya asked, still searching for clues to explain Ken's odd behavior.
Ken nodded. "Yeah. You know. When Omi was talking about his school project."
Aya's eyes narrowed as he frowned again. "I asked you to pass me the soy sauce," he said, his tone hesitant and confused.
"Right," Ken replied, his expression brightening as he realized that Aya also remembered their magical moment. "But, it was the way you asked. I knew you wanted me."
"Think again," Aya said.
"So, then … that's a no?" Ken asked.
Aya didn't say anything. Instead, he glared at Ken, giving the younger man one of those expressions that should be able to melt paint. Ken remained decidedly unmelted, but the angry, smoldering glare caused another round of nervous giggling.
"Ken, Ken, Ken. "No" is just a stepping stone to "yes." Did I not teach you anything?"
Aya jumped at the sound of the new voice, which seemed to purr out of the shadows near the doorway. That voice was distinctive -- rough and a little hoarse, but, somehow, silky-smooth at the same time, and with a teasing undertone that was all too familiar. There was no mistaking the identity of this newest nighttime visitor, although Aya couldn't figure out why in the world he was so popular, all of a sudden.
"Yohji," Aya said.
He tried to keep his voice even and emotionless. But, he could hear the tremble that made the word come out sounding small and uncertain. Aya cringed and cursed under his breath. Yohji's presence here, like this, made him nervous, and Aya knew the slight tremor in his voice telegraphed that to the older man. He might as well have written it out in neon lights; it would be that obvious to Yohji, and Aya hated that. He hated for anyone to know his feelings. It was too much like giving away a piece of himself, or like surrendering control. Neither of those things appealed to Aya -- ever.
He wasn't sure why he was nervous. It wasn't like he thought of Yohji that way. He didn't. Yohji was his friend. Maybe his best friend, even, although Aya never allowed himself to think in those terms. He couldn't, not if he wanted to keep everyone at a safe distance.
Speaking of safe distances …
Yohji stood half in shadow, so that it was impossible to read the expression on his face. Even so, Aya had no trouble seeing his confident, relaxed posture as Yohji leaned against the wall next to the door. As always, he was smug and self assured. His tone of voice and body language left no doubt of that, and Aya looked from him to Ken, who remained where he had fallen, sitting on the floor next to the bed.
Suddenly, Aya knew why he was nervous. This whole situation was fucked. And then some. It wasn't like he invited people into his room -- ever. Here he had two unwanted guests within the span of minutes, and, to make matters worse, both of them had come with less than pure intentions in their hearts -- to say the least. Since when did anyone want to stay in the same room with him, much less sleep with him? That was a mystery to Aya, and one he knew he couldn't spare the brain power to figure out right now.
Resisting Ken's misplaced advances hadn't been that difficult. Ken was sincere and had a good heart, even if he could be a bit unbalanced at times. But, overall, he was inexperienced in the whole seduction scene. His advances had been clumsy and too straightforward, just the kind of thing you would expect from someone who was unsure and, maybe, a little bit afraid of their feelings. That had made it easy for Aya to gain and keep the upper hand in their exchange.
That wouldn't be the case with Yohji. Aya had been on the receiving end of Yohji's flirtatious attentions often enough to know. Not that Yohji was any more interested in Aya than Aya was in him. But Yohji flirted like most people breathed. It was second nature to him, and he was good at it. Very good. Yohji wasn't into taking something another person was unwilling to give, but he had this uncanny ability to turn any "no", no matter how adamant, into a "yes, please". Aya had seen it happen to various women enough times to know it was true. It was like Yohji possessed some super power or something, except he only used it for his own personal gain. The thing was, if Yohji had decided on this as his evening's entertainment, Aya knew there was very little he could do. And, in the end, there was likely to be very little he wanted to do about it. Aya didn't like admitting that, even to himself. Still, he was enough of a realist that he couldn't deny it. Yohji was just like that.
'Right, then,' Aya thought, his glare intensifying, 'The best defense is a good offense. Isn't that what they always say?'
"Get out. Now. Unless you want me to kill you and be done with it," he snarled at Yohji. He was careful to keep his voice low and threatening, making sure his newest uninvited guest knew it wasn't an idle threat.
Or, more specifically, he snarled it at the empty space where Yohji had been standing seconds before.
Aya jumped -- an involuntary, startled reaction -- when he felt the mattress dip under Yohji's weight as the other man slid into the bed. Yohji managed to wedge himself into the small space between Aya and the headboard, so that he was sitting directly behind Aya, and so close that Aya could feel the heat from Yohji's body against his own skin.
He hadn't seen Yohji move. He hadn't heard Yohji cross the floor. So, how the holy hell did Yohji get from over there to right here in what seemed like the blink of an eye? He was about to ask, when the feel of Yohji's fingers caressing the curve of his spine reminded him there were other, more important matters to deal with. It was just like any other mission. He had to take charge of the situation, and he had to do it now. Or he was dead … or worse.
"I told you to get out," Aya said.
He tried to make his voice sound harsh and matter-of-fact, as if there was an implied threat of bodily harm laced around the words. But, Yohji picked that moment to reach around with his free hand and stroke the muscles along Aya's ribcage and abdomen. Aya's breath caught in his throat at the feel of Yohji's long, slender fingers teasing their way over his body, and what he had intended as an imposing threat come out sounding uncertain and hesitant, as if he couldn't quite make up his mind whether or not he wanted Yohji to leave.
Aya's muscles had tensed up at first. He was a private person. The kind of person who liked to hold himself apart and away from everyone around him, and this type of intimate contact made him uncomfortable and uneasy. But, Yohji's hands were soft -- much softer than Aya would have expected them to be, considering the vicious nature of their night jobs. His touch was gentle -- the barest whisper of skin against skin -- and confident, as if he knew he had every right to be here, doing exactly what he was doing. One hand continued to stroke Aya's back, seeming, as if by instinct, to home in on the spots where his muscles were tight and sore, massaging out the tension-created knots. The other hand roamed over his torso -- caressing the muscles in his chest and circling his nipples before moving farther down to travel across his stomach in long, leisurely strokes. It wasn't rushed, the way Ken's advance had been. Instead, this was unhurried and calm. Yohji's touch lingered on Aya's body, as if Yohji's hands wanted to devour him as they caressed every inch of Aya's skin, even pausing to linger over the welt-like scars that marred the otherwise smooth surface. He took his time, seeming to enjoy the feel of Aya's body beneath his fingers. After a few minutes, Aya relaxed, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He hadn't wanted to. He hadn't wanted anything other than to convince Yohji to leave, but he couldn't help himself.
Yohji reached around with both arms, enfolding Aya in a loose hug and pulling Aya toward him. Aya didn't fight or try to struggle away, but submitted to Yohji's gentle, yet insistent, demand. He leaned back, resting against Yohji's chest. He could feel Yohji's body pressed against his, and he shivered. He wanted to pull away. He knew, if he pulled away, Yohji wouldn't try to keep him there. But something kept him frozen in place, enjoying the warmth of Yohji's body against his back, the feel of Yohji's hands having their way with his body, and Yohji's distinctive scent -- stale cigarettes, old perfume, booze, and flowers -- washing over him, filling his senses and telling him there was nothing to fear. Aya wouldn't have wanted to admit it to himself -- ever -- but it felt good, being able to lose himself like this, being able to trust someone this way. He didn't have to be strong. He didn't have to be cold or unfeeling. He just had to be.
Aya rested his head in the curve of Yohji's shoulder. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as Yohji ran an index finger across his lips and, then, along his jaw. The whisper-soft touch followed Aya's jaw line before continuing down along his throat and, finally, tracing patterns across the muscles of his chest. At the same time, Yohji dipped his head a little, just enough so that he could run his tongue along the line of Aya's jaw, following the path previously traced by his fingers. Licking quickly turned into kissing, which, just as quickly, devolved into a series of gnawing, sucking nips as Yohji nibbled his way down Aya's jaw to his throat, where he paused long enough to suck at the pulse point near Aya's collarbone. Aya shuddered, shivering at the feel of Yohji's teeth tugging gently at his skin.
"You really want me to leave?" Yohji asked, whispering the words into Aya's ear in a husky voice that was caught somewhere between a growl and a purr of pleasure.
Yohji's breath was hot and moist against his skin, and Aya felt his stomach flip-flop. It was a strange feeling that quickly turned into a throbbing ache deep inside his body. He felt Yohji's other hand -- long fingers tangling themselves in his hair as Yohji gave a gentle tug. Aya followed, allowing Yohji to pull his head a little back and to the side. Yohji grinned at him -- a wicked, predatory kind of smile that caused a shiver to run down Aya's spine.
"You really want me to leave?" Yohji asked again.
Yes. That's all Aya had to say. It's what he wanted to say. But Yohji's lips were on his; Yohji's hands were on his body -- moving across his chest, caressing his nipples, stroking down his stomach and across his groin; Yohji's tongue was against his lips, demanding access, and Aya's mouth opened under the gentle, persuasive pressure; then, Yohji's tongue was inside his mouth, licking across his teeth and tongue as the kiss deepened; Yohji was all around him -- his taste, his smell, and the warmth from his body enveloped Aya, overwhelming him and making him feel weak and helpless to resist. He wanted Yohji to leave. He wanted Yohji to leave him alone. He wanted to tell Yohji to get the hell out of his room. And yet, he never wanted this to end. He felt dizzy, as if the world had begun to spin out of control, taking him along for the ride. His senses were close to overloading, and he knew he would never have control of this situation. He never had been in control of this; any belief otherwise was an illusion. At any other time, Aya would have hated that. But, now, he didn't care. He wanted to tell Yohji to leave him alone. Instead, he reached up and fisted his hand in Yohji's hair, pulling the older man closer to him as he returned the kiss, his tongue questing into Yohji's mouth and raking across Yohji's teeth. His order for Yohji to leave never came. The words were lost in Aya's low, throaty moan of pleasure.
"Damn, you are good."
Yohji jumped at the sound of the voice. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten anyone else was in the room. He broke the kiss, eliciting a soft whine of frustration from Aya, and looked up to find Ken watching them -- a hungry, almost feral-looking expression in his eyes. He was still sitting on the floor, where he had fallen earlier, and, from the looks of things, he had enjoyed the show -- a lot.
"Ken," Yohji panted, trying to catch his breath.
At any normal time, Yohji would have been pissed to realize he had an audience. He was a bit of an exhibitionist, but there were some things Yohji did not believe in sharing. And seduction games with Aya were at the top of that list. It wasn't that he particularly cared about being watched. It was more that he had no desire to share the prize he had worked to secure. Of course, this wasn't exactly a "normal" time. If it had been, Yohji was certain he wouldn't be sitting here with a lap full of very compliant assassin and his hand thrust down the front of Aya's underwear.
So, instead of following his first instinct, which would have been to tell Ken, in no uncertain terms, to take a hike, Yohji chose to ignore his voyeuristic teammate. He allowed Aya to pull him into another deep, breath-stealing kiss. In no time, he was, once again, lost in the moment, forgetting all about Ken's presence.
Yohji cursed mentally when he felt the mattress dip, signaling that Ken had decided to join them on the bed. He pulled away from Aya to glare at this latest arrival to what, in his mind, should be a very exclusive party.
Ken remained stubbornly oblivious to Yohji's territorial mood. He gave Yohji a good-natured grin and scooted a little closer to his two teammates. He reached out and stroked Aya's ribcage, a tentative, uncertain gesture. Aya, still preoccupied by Yohji's attentions, didn't seem to mind.
"I think I should get to go first," Ken commented, giving Yohji a pointed look.
"What the hell're you talking about?" Yohji asked, keeping his voice pitched low for fear of disturbing Aya and breaking the moment.
"It was my idea," Ken explained, "So I should get to go first."
"There's no first," Yohji hissed. "I'm not sharing. Besides, I did all the work. If anyone goes first, it's me."
Ken frowned as if considering what Yohji had just said. After a moment, he nodded, apparently coming to some kind of resolution.
"We could both go at the same time, then," he said.
Yohji thought about that. He didn't want to share Aya, and he certainly didn't want Ken to benefit from his hard work. At the same time, it almost seemed worth it, if it meant he wouldn't have to continue having this idiotic argument. But the idea only held a momentary appeal.
"No," Yohji said, shaking his head, as if dismissing Ken's suggestion. "That'd never work. He'd never go for it."
"He might," Ken replied. "If we tied him up first. He seems pretty … docile at the moment."
As if by way of explanation, Ken nodded toward Aya, who was still sitting in Yohji's lap and had begun to nibble at Yohji's collarbone.
Yohji sighed. "Fine."
Ken's face brightened at Yohji's agreement. It looked like his plans for the evening were going to work out, after all. Not that he had planned on sharing his fun with Yohji, but, at this point, Ken figured a threesome was better than the slow and painful death Aya had promised him. He frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him.
"I get to be on top, though," Ken said.
"No way," Yohji replied.
"But, I called dibs," Ken said, glaring at Yohji.
Yohji gave Ken an eyes-narrowed expression of disgust, followed by a derisive snort.
"It doesn't work that way, Ken-Ken. I'm on top. It's a rule," he said, shrugging as if that simple statement explained everything.
"What?" Ken asked. "What rule? And, why should you get to be on top, anyhow?"
"Ken, Ken, Ken," Yohji said, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe how sad and pathetic Ken was. "Did I teach you nothing about the world? I get to be on top because I'm the tallest."
"What the hell?" Ken asked.
Yohji rubbed his thumb across Aya's jaw -- an almost absent-minded gesture that caused Aya to squirm closer to Yohji and whimper in pleasure. Yohji grinned down at his lap full of happy assassin, thinking that Aya looked almost cute when he was like this.
He only let his attention wander for a moment, though, and quickly looked back at Ken as he replied, shrugging, "I didn't make the rules. I just enforce them."
"Guys, there's no need to fight," a new voice sounded out of the darkness near the foot of the bed, surprising both Ken and Yohji and cutting off Ken's reply.
Yohji and Ken both turned to see Omi. He was standing half in shadow at the foot of the bed, and he winked at them, giving his teammates a wicked grin. Yohji shivered a little at the greedy, predatory expression in Omi's eyes. Sure, Omi might be the youngest member of the team, but he could be damn scary when he set his mind to it. And, this was one of those times. Omi licked his lips, reminding Yohji of a hyena eyeing its prey, and held up his hand. The door was open, allowing a sliver of light from the hallway into the room, and Yohji could see that light glinting off of something dangling from Omi's outstretched index finger. It only took him a moment to realize Omi was offering them a set of handcuffs.
"After all, there should be more than enough of him to go around," Omi said, giving them another teasing wink.
Warnings: Shounen-ai / Yaoi. Bad language.
Summary: Being a florist isn't easy -- a realization Aya is forced to come to grips with when Valentine's Day and his own overtaxed imagination work together to give him a horrible day, followed by an equally disturbing evening.
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Part 3
Someone was in his room. They hadn't made any noise, but the sensation of another presence, the feeling that something was "not right" nagged at Aya. It worked its way into his subconscious until, finally, it penetrated the foggy haze of his exhaustion and pulled him out of the deep sleep into which he had fallen. Even so, he didn't wake up. Not right away. On any normal night, the feeling of an uninvited presence this close to him would have jolted him into instant wakefulness, no matter how soundly he had been sleeping. But, tonight was not a normal night. It had been a long day. Aya was exhausted. He was in a bad mood. And all he wanted to do was catch a decent night's sleep. It was comfortable there, in the blackness of slumber. Peaceful. He didn't have to know anything. He didn't have to feel anything. He didn't have to think anything. And he wanted to stay there, so much so that he allowed the peace to lull his mind into a haze of apathy that dulled his senses. Somewhere, deep down inside, his mind screamed at him that someone was there. Someone was in his room. Someone had gotten this close to him at a time when he was vulnerable. It wasn't safe. But, Aya had little trouble ignoring that part of his psyche. So, someone was in the room. Big deal. Tonight, he figured, they could have him. If they killed him, it would save him from another day in the flower shop. If he had been awake, Aya might have found that thought amusing. Instead, it barely registered in his mind before he drifted back to sleep.
The illusion of peace didn't last.
Aya felt the mattress shift as his uninvited visitor sat down on the edge of the bed. This was enough to jerk Aya fully awake. Someone in his room was one thing -- a danger he was willing to chance tonight. But, that someone in his bed -- that was something altogether different. Aya's mind switched into assassin mode. It wasn't a conscious decision on his part, but an automatic, instinctive change born from years of long, hard experience.
His brain whirled as he calculated the possibilities. Who had invaded his space like this? How close were they? How hard would it be to get away from this threat? And, most importantly, how would he kill this person without attracting undue attention to Weiss's cover?
Aya forced his mind to slow down. He willed his body to remain relaxed and unmoving, as he pretended he was still asleep. He gave no indication he was aware of the other person's presence. For one thing, he needed these few, precious seconds to assess the situation. For another, he was tired. He didn't want to kill anyone tonight; it was supposed to be his night off from that particular occupation. Maybe, if he stayed very still and pretended to be asleep, his unexpected visitor would wise up and realize breaking into an assassin's room in the dead of night was a bad idea. And, then, maybe they would leave on their own.
Aya cursed mentally as he felt the mattress shift beneath him again, followed by the weight and warmth of another body next to his, indicating his intruder, instead of taking the prudent option of exiting the room, had decided to lie down on the bed.
Aya's muscles tensed as he felt a warm, sweaty hand against his chilled skin. It stroked his body, caressing his cheek and pressing for a moment against his lips before moving down to travel over his chest and stomach. The touch was light and gentle, although it became more hesitant as it moved down the length of his body. It stopped and started across the skin of his chest -- not as if this unknown person were taking their time, enjoying the feel of his body beneath their fingers, but as if they were uncertain and timid about the situation. When the touch reached his stomach, Aya could feel the way it trembled, communicating the uninvited visitor's doubt and hesitation. Even so, the hand never stopped moving, never stopped stroking across Aya's skin and the well-defined muscles in his chest and abdomen.
'Oh no. And, hell no,' Aya thought, as he felt fingers begin to fumble with the waistband of his boxers.
"I know you're awake, baby," a husky voice whispered in his ear, before Aya could say anything.
Aya felt a shock of surprise and dread race through him. He knew that voice. He had heard it every day since he had joined Weiss. Ken's voice. There was no mistaking it, although he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why in the holy hell Ken would be in his room. And, not only in his room, but invading his personal space in such an uncomfortable way. Since when did he and Ken get along well enough for that? On most days, it took all the self control either of them possessed just to stay in the same room without killing each other. And, for that matter, since when was Ken gay?
Aya opened his eyes to find Ken leaning over him, a mixture of desire and anxiety in his eyes. Aya couldn't help thinking the expression made Ken look a little like a love-struck calf.
"You'd better have a fucking good explanation for why you're here. Or, maybe I should just skip the whole embarrassed stammering thing and kill you now," Aya snarled.
He planted his hand on Ken's chest and pushed backward to put some distance between them. At the same time, he used his other hand to shove Ken's questing fingers away from their intended goal.
"Oh, come on, sweetie. Don't be like that. You know why I'm here," Ken whispered, his breath hot and moist against Aya's skin and his words muffled as he bent to kiss Aya's neck.
Baby? Sweetie?
Aya couldn't figure out what the hell was going on here. Maybe Ken was sleepwalking. Maybe he had fallen and hit his head, or maybe Ken had finally gone off the deep end. Aya had thought for a long time now that Ken was the most messed up out of all of them. That it would only be a matter of time before he fell off the narrow ledge of sanity. Maybe, that time had come. Whatever the reason, Aya didn't have the liberty of trying to figure things out, because Ken's hands were, once more, hard at work roaming over Aya's chest and stomach and getting perilously close to what Ken apparently considered the Promised Land.
Aya growled in frustration as he, again, shoved Ken's hands away from the waistband of his underwear. He tried to scoot away from his oddly amorous teammate, but Ken was a little faster, stopping Aya's retreat by grabbing a handful of Aya's hair in an attempt to hold him in place.
This was bad. Really bad. He wanted to get away. He needed to get away. And he didn't want to hurt Ken. For one thing, he couldn't figure out how to explain it to Kritiker. But, more than that, they were in his room, and Aya didn't want to deal with the mess. Not after the crappy day he had already had. It was obvious Ken thought this was nothing more than a game.
A game between lovers.
Just the thought of it was enough to make Aya's stomach clench with dread. He had never encouraged this type of intimacy. He went out of his way to prevent almost any personal contact. Hell, he wasn't even gay. He couldn't figure out how Ken's wires had become so badly crossed. For now, though, Aya realized he didn't have the time to ponder over it. Ken still had a death grip on his hair, and he was using it to draw Aya closer to him for what probably would have been a very passionate, albeit clumsy, kiss. Well, passionate from Ken's point of view, that is.
"You know I love these games, baby. I love it when you play rough," Ken whispered into Aya's ear, laughing as Aya struggled underneath him.
"Then, you're gonna get a big kick out of this," Aya snarled back, as he grabbed Ken by the throat and pushed -- hard.
Ken fell backward and tumbled off of Aya's bed. He landed in an untidy heap on the floor and looked up at Aya with an expression that managed to encompass "confused", "hurt", and "accusing" all at the same time.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Ken demanded.
"Wrong with me? What the hell?!" Aya snapped in return. He sat up and glared at Ken for a few seconds before continuing, "You're in my room. In my bed. I think you're the one who has some explaining to do. Or, maybe you just have a death wish."
"Death wish? Me? What?" Ken stammered, obviously shaken by the sudden disintegration of what he had expected to be a very romantic, love-filled evening. He paused for a few moments to gather his composure before continuing, "I was just … you know … doing what you wanted."
There was an unguarded moment when an expression of confused shock crossed Aya's face. Ken's answer, spoken in the younger man's straight-forward, honest manner, took him so by surprise that he couldn't hide the emotion. But, it was just for a moment -- a heartbeat, maybe two -- and Aya brought his feelings back under control so that his face, once again, revealed nothing about his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he should say in response to Ken's statement, and he couldn't figure out how Ken had gotten this ridiculous idea, in the first place, so he stalled by staring, spearing Ken with an angry, cold glare that caused him to fidget under its weight.
"Why would you think this is what I wanted?" Aya asked, nodding his head toward Ken, who was naked, except for a pair of socks, and still sitting on the floor next to his bed.
Ken chuckled -- a small sound that betrayed his nervousness. Aya's words were edged in venom, and he continued to give Ken that cold, assessing look. All of a sudden, what had seemed certain in Ken's mind felt more than a bit ridiculous, and he couldn't help but hope that Aya was in a generous mood. He realized Aya was waiting. Waiting for answers he didn't have, and he knew he had to make his explanation count. Otherwise, there was a very real chance he wouldn't make it out of this alive. Or, Aya might let him live, but he would end up maimed. Neither was an appealing option, from Ken's point of view.
Ken cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his already-mussed hair. He laughed a little, an involuntary sound born of his nervousness over the situation. Ken knew it made him seem weak and flighty, like one of those ridiculous girls who frequented the shop, and he hated that. He cringed as the nervous laugh escaped his lips, wishing he could tunnel right down into the floor to escape Aya's angry glare. But, that wasn't possible. No matter how much Ken wished otherwise, he was stuck here -- with a love connection gone bad, facing a very pissed off Aya, and wracking his brain for a way to explain himself.
"You know," Ken said, "We've got a connection, right? You feel it too. I know you do. Especially after what you said to me last night at dinner."
Aya frowned down at his confused, love-struck teammate. Had he accidentally led Ken on? Had he led Ken to believe there was a mutual interest here? No matter how much he thought about it, Aya couldn't figure out what he might have done to make Ken believe this was an acceptable situation, and he was beginning to wonder if that damn Schwarz telepath was behind this whole ridiculous fiasco. This would be just the kind of thing that would make Schuldich cackle with glee. At least, Aya thought so, based on what he knew about their rivals.
"At dinner?" Aya asked, still searching for clues to explain Ken's odd behavior.
Ken nodded. "Yeah. You know. When Omi was talking about his school project."
Aya's eyes narrowed as he frowned again. "I asked you to pass me the soy sauce," he said, his tone hesitant and confused.
"Right," Ken replied, his expression brightening as he realized that Aya also remembered their magical moment. "But, it was the way you asked. I knew you wanted me."
"Think again," Aya said.
"So, then … that's a no?" Ken asked.
Aya didn't say anything. Instead, he glared at Ken, giving the younger man one of those expressions that should be able to melt paint. Ken remained decidedly unmelted, but the angry, smoldering glare caused another round of nervous giggling.
"Ken, Ken, Ken. "No" is just a stepping stone to "yes." Did I not teach you anything?"
Aya jumped at the sound of the new voice, which seemed to purr out of the shadows near the doorway. That voice was distinctive -- rough and a little hoarse, but, somehow, silky-smooth at the same time, and with a teasing undertone that was all too familiar. There was no mistaking the identity of this newest nighttime visitor, although Aya couldn't figure out why in the world he was so popular, all of a sudden.
"Yohji," Aya said.
He tried to keep his voice even and emotionless. But, he could hear the tremble that made the word come out sounding small and uncertain. Aya cringed and cursed under his breath. Yohji's presence here, like this, made him nervous, and Aya knew the slight tremor in his voice telegraphed that to the older man. He might as well have written it out in neon lights; it would be that obvious to Yohji, and Aya hated that. He hated for anyone to know his feelings. It was too much like giving away a piece of himself, or like surrendering control. Neither of those things appealed to Aya -- ever.
He wasn't sure why he was nervous. It wasn't like he thought of Yohji that way. He didn't. Yohji was his friend. Maybe his best friend, even, although Aya never allowed himself to think in those terms. He couldn't, not if he wanted to keep everyone at a safe distance.
Speaking of safe distances …
Yohji stood half in shadow, so that it was impossible to read the expression on his face. Even so, Aya had no trouble seeing his confident, relaxed posture as Yohji leaned against the wall next to the door. As always, he was smug and self assured. His tone of voice and body language left no doubt of that, and Aya looked from him to Ken, who remained where he had fallen, sitting on the floor next to the bed.
Suddenly, Aya knew why he was nervous. This whole situation was fucked. And then some. It wasn't like he invited people into his room -- ever. Here he had two unwanted guests within the span of minutes, and, to make matters worse, both of them had come with less than pure intentions in their hearts -- to say the least. Since when did anyone want to stay in the same room with him, much less sleep with him? That was a mystery to Aya, and one he knew he couldn't spare the brain power to figure out right now.
Resisting Ken's misplaced advances hadn't been that difficult. Ken was sincere and had a good heart, even if he could be a bit unbalanced at times. But, overall, he was inexperienced in the whole seduction scene. His advances had been clumsy and too straightforward, just the kind of thing you would expect from someone who was unsure and, maybe, a little bit afraid of their feelings. That had made it easy for Aya to gain and keep the upper hand in their exchange.
That wouldn't be the case with Yohji. Aya had been on the receiving end of Yohji's flirtatious attentions often enough to know. Not that Yohji was any more interested in Aya than Aya was in him. But Yohji flirted like most people breathed. It was second nature to him, and he was good at it. Very good. Yohji wasn't into taking something another person was unwilling to give, but he had this uncanny ability to turn any "no", no matter how adamant, into a "yes, please". Aya had seen it happen to various women enough times to know it was true. It was like Yohji possessed some super power or something, except he only used it for his own personal gain. The thing was, if Yohji had decided on this as his evening's entertainment, Aya knew there was very little he could do. And, in the end, there was likely to be very little he wanted to do about it. Aya didn't like admitting that, even to himself. Still, he was enough of a realist that he couldn't deny it. Yohji was just like that.
'Right, then,' Aya thought, his glare intensifying, 'The best defense is a good offense. Isn't that what they always say?'
"Get out. Now. Unless you want me to kill you and be done with it," he snarled at Yohji. He was careful to keep his voice low and threatening, making sure his newest uninvited guest knew it wasn't an idle threat.
Or, more specifically, he snarled it at the empty space where Yohji had been standing seconds before.
Aya jumped -- an involuntary, startled reaction -- when he felt the mattress dip under Yohji's weight as the other man slid into the bed. Yohji managed to wedge himself into the small space between Aya and the headboard, so that he was sitting directly behind Aya, and so close that Aya could feel the heat from Yohji's body against his own skin.
He hadn't seen Yohji move. He hadn't heard Yohji cross the floor. So, how the holy hell did Yohji get from over there to right here in what seemed like the blink of an eye? He was about to ask, when the feel of Yohji's fingers caressing the curve of his spine reminded him there were other, more important matters to deal with. It was just like any other mission. He had to take charge of the situation, and he had to do it now. Or he was dead … or worse.
"I told you to get out," Aya said.
He tried to make his voice sound harsh and matter-of-fact, as if there was an implied threat of bodily harm laced around the words. But, Yohji picked that moment to reach around with his free hand and stroke the muscles along Aya's ribcage and abdomen. Aya's breath caught in his throat at the feel of Yohji's long, slender fingers teasing their way over his body, and what he had intended as an imposing threat come out sounding uncertain and hesitant, as if he couldn't quite make up his mind whether or not he wanted Yohji to leave.
Aya's muscles had tensed up at first. He was a private person. The kind of person who liked to hold himself apart and away from everyone around him, and this type of intimate contact made him uncomfortable and uneasy. But, Yohji's hands were soft -- much softer than Aya would have expected them to be, considering the vicious nature of their night jobs. His touch was gentle -- the barest whisper of skin against skin -- and confident, as if he knew he had every right to be here, doing exactly what he was doing. One hand continued to stroke Aya's back, seeming, as if by instinct, to home in on the spots where his muscles were tight and sore, massaging out the tension-created knots. The other hand roamed over his torso -- caressing the muscles in his chest and circling his nipples before moving farther down to travel across his stomach in long, leisurely strokes. It wasn't rushed, the way Ken's advance had been. Instead, this was unhurried and calm. Yohji's touch lingered on Aya's body, as if Yohji's hands wanted to devour him as they caressed every inch of Aya's skin, even pausing to linger over the welt-like scars that marred the otherwise smooth surface. He took his time, seeming to enjoy the feel of Aya's body beneath his fingers. After a few minutes, Aya relaxed, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He hadn't wanted to. He hadn't wanted anything other than to convince Yohji to leave, but he couldn't help himself.
Yohji reached around with both arms, enfolding Aya in a loose hug and pulling Aya toward him. Aya didn't fight or try to struggle away, but submitted to Yohji's gentle, yet insistent, demand. He leaned back, resting against Yohji's chest. He could feel Yohji's body pressed against his, and he shivered. He wanted to pull away. He knew, if he pulled away, Yohji wouldn't try to keep him there. But something kept him frozen in place, enjoying the warmth of Yohji's body against his back, the feel of Yohji's hands having their way with his body, and Yohji's distinctive scent -- stale cigarettes, old perfume, booze, and flowers -- washing over him, filling his senses and telling him there was nothing to fear. Aya wouldn't have wanted to admit it to himself -- ever -- but it felt good, being able to lose himself like this, being able to trust someone this way. He didn't have to be strong. He didn't have to be cold or unfeeling. He just had to be.
Aya rested his head in the curve of Yohji's shoulder. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as Yohji ran an index finger across his lips and, then, along his jaw. The whisper-soft touch followed Aya's jaw line before continuing down along his throat and, finally, tracing patterns across the muscles of his chest. At the same time, Yohji dipped his head a little, just enough so that he could run his tongue along the line of Aya's jaw, following the path previously traced by his fingers. Licking quickly turned into kissing, which, just as quickly, devolved into a series of gnawing, sucking nips as Yohji nibbled his way down Aya's jaw to his throat, where he paused long enough to suck at the pulse point near Aya's collarbone. Aya shuddered, shivering at the feel of Yohji's teeth tugging gently at his skin.
"You really want me to leave?" Yohji asked, whispering the words into Aya's ear in a husky voice that was caught somewhere between a growl and a purr of pleasure.
Yohji's breath was hot and moist against his skin, and Aya felt his stomach flip-flop. It was a strange feeling that quickly turned into a throbbing ache deep inside his body. He felt Yohji's other hand -- long fingers tangling themselves in his hair as Yohji gave a gentle tug. Aya followed, allowing Yohji to pull his head a little back and to the side. Yohji grinned at him -- a wicked, predatory kind of smile that caused a shiver to run down Aya's spine.
"You really want me to leave?" Yohji asked again.
Yes. That's all Aya had to say. It's what he wanted to say. But Yohji's lips were on his; Yohji's hands were on his body -- moving across his chest, caressing his nipples, stroking down his stomach and across his groin; Yohji's tongue was against his lips, demanding access, and Aya's mouth opened under the gentle, persuasive pressure; then, Yohji's tongue was inside his mouth, licking across his teeth and tongue as the kiss deepened; Yohji was all around him -- his taste, his smell, and the warmth from his body enveloped Aya, overwhelming him and making him feel weak and helpless to resist. He wanted Yohji to leave. He wanted Yohji to leave him alone. He wanted to tell Yohji to get the hell out of his room. And yet, he never wanted this to end. He felt dizzy, as if the world had begun to spin out of control, taking him along for the ride. His senses were close to overloading, and he knew he would never have control of this situation. He never had been in control of this; any belief otherwise was an illusion. At any other time, Aya would have hated that. But, now, he didn't care. He wanted to tell Yohji to leave him alone. Instead, he reached up and fisted his hand in Yohji's hair, pulling the older man closer to him as he returned the kiss, his tongue questing into Yohji's mouth and raking across Yohji's teeth. His order for Yohji to leave never came. The words were lost in Aya's low, throaty moan of pleasure.
"Damn, you are good."
Yohji jumped at the sound of the voice. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten anyone else was in the room. He broke the kiss, eliciting a soft whine of frustration from Aya, and looked up to find Ken watching them -- a hungry, almost feral-looking expression in his eyes. He was still sitting on the floor, where he had fallen earlier, and, from the looks of things, he had enjoyed the show -- a lot.
"Ken," Yohji panted, trying to catch his breath.
At any normal time, Yohji would have been pissed to realize he had an audience. He was a bit of an exhibitionist, but there were some things Yohji did not believe in sharing. And seduction games with Aya were at the top of that list. It wasn't that he particularly cared about being watched. It was more that he had no desire to share the prize he had worked to secure. Of course, this wasn't exactly a "normal" time. If it had been, Yohji was certain he wouldn't be sitting here with a lap full of very compliant assassin and his hand thrust down the front of Aya's underwear.
So, instead of following his first instinct, which would have been to tell Ken, in no uncertain terms, to take a hike, Yohji chose to ignore his voyeuristic teammate. He allowed Aya to pull him into another deep, breath-stealing kiss. In no time, he was, once again, lost in the moment, forgetting all about Ken's presence.
Yohji cursed mentally when he felt the mattress dip, signaling that Ken had decided to join them on the bed. He pulled away from Aya to glare at this latest arrival to what, in his mind, should be a very exclusive party.
Ken remained stubbornly oblivious to Yohji's territorial mood. He gave Yohji a good-natured grin and scooted a little closer to his two teammates. He reached out and stroked Aya's ribcage, a tentative, uncertain gesture. Aya, still preoccupied by Yohji's attentions, didn't seem to mind.
"I think I should get to go first," Ken commented, giving Yohji a pointed look.
"What the hell're you talking about?" Yohji asked, keeping his voice pitched low for fear of disturbing Aya and breaking the moment.
"It was my idea," Ken explained, "So I should get to go first."
"There's no first," Yohji hissed. "I'm not sharing. Besides, I did all the work. If anyone goes first, it's me."
Ken frowned as if considering what Yohji had just said. After a moment, he nodded, apparently coming to some kind of resolution.
"We could both go at the same time, then," he said.
Yohji thought about that. He didn't want to share Aya, and he certainly didn't want Ken to benefit from his hard work. At the same time, it almost seemed worth it, if it meant he wouldn't have to continue having this idiotic argument. But the idea only held a momentary appeal.
"No," Yohji said, shaking his head, as if dismissing Ken's suggestion. "That'd never work. He'd never go for it."
"He might," Ken replied. "If we tied him up first. He seems pretty … docile at the moment."
As if by way of explanation, Ken nodded toward Aya, who was still sitting in Yohji's lap and had begun to nibble at Yohji's collarbone.
Yohji sighed. "Fine."
Ken's face brightened at Yohji's agreement. It looked like his plans for the evening were going to work out, after all. Not that he had planned on sharing his fun with Yohji, but, at this point, Ken figured a threesome was better than the slow and painful death Aya had promised him. He frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him.
"I get to be on top, though," Ken said.
"No way," Yohji replied.
"But, I called dibs," Ken said, glaring at Yohji.
Yohji gave Ken an eyes-narrowed expression of disgust, followed by a derisive snort.
"It doesn't work that way, Ken-Ken. I'm on top. It's a rule," he said, shrugging as if that simple statement explained everything.
"What?" Ken asked. "What rule? And, why should you get to be on top, anyhow?"
"Ken, Ken, Ken," Yohji said, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe how sad and pathetic Ken was. "Did I teach you nothing about the world? I get to be on top because I'm the tallest."
"What the hell?" Ken asked.
Yohji rubbed his thumb across Aya's jaw -- an almost absent-minded gesture that caused Aya to squirm closer to Yohji and whimper in pleasure. Yohji grinned down at his lap full of happy assassin, thinking that Aya looked almost cute when he was like this.
He only let his attention wander for a moment, though, and quickly looked back at Ken as he replied, shrugging, "I didn't make the rules. I just enforce them."
"Guys, there's no need to fight," a new voice sounded out of the darkness near the foot of the bed, surprising both Ken and Yohji and cutting off Ken's reply.
Yohji and Ken both turned to see Omi. He was standing half in shadow at the foot of the bed, and he winked at them, giving his teammates a wicked grin. Yohji shivered a little at the greedy, predatory expression in Omi's eyes. Sure, Omi might be the youngest member of the team, but he could be damn scary when he set his mind to it. And, this was one of those times. Omi licked his lips, reminding Yohji of a hyena eyeing its prey, and held up his hand. The door was open, allowing a sliver of light from the hallway into the room, and Yohji could see that light glinting off of something dangling from Omi's outstretched index finger. It only took him a moment to realize Omi was offering them a set of handcuffs.
"After all, there should be more than enough of him to go around," Omi said, giving them another teasing wink.