Aya woke to molten light across the bed, and a woman talking in fast and nasal English.
Yohji had changed the damn station again.
In response to his own choice in radio, the blonde grunted and tried to wriggle under his bedmate. Aya snorted and refused to think it was ‘cute’ how even in his sleep, the man worked to stay in bed. Yohji did not like mornings, everyone knew that. What Aya had learned in the last month or so, was the incredible lengths to which the man would go in order to avoid that hated part of life. It had taken days of arguments–then one night in Aya’s room–to get Yohji to accept the existence of an alarm clock in his room, and then the ‘accidental’ unpluggings and resettings and smashings-into-bits… In the compromise Aya had agreed not to use the alarm noise. Now they were wrangling over the choice of wake-up music.
And what he was doing now. The blonde had learned quickly that Aya’s body blocked light and sound, so often Aya woke to being used as a blanket. Yohji had yet to realize that defeated his purpose. Even accustomed to his hard futon as he was, Aya could not sleep long on that beautiful but bony body.
Get up. He was awake, he should get up. Even if he didn’t have to open the flower shop, he could find something useful to do. Though he wasn’t sure what, exactly.
Weiss, incredibly, incomprehensibly, was on vacation. Omi had done it, Aya knew, though he didn’t know how. They hadn’t sneaked off to the mountains for a stolen day or two, and they hadn’t taken advantage of having a mission in the area. They were on vacation. Birman had said so. And what was even more amazing, was that she hadn’t put a time limit on the respite. Omi, however, had made sure everyone packed for a full two weeks. Now they were on day three, and Aya didn’t know what to do with himself.
Stupid. He’d do some katas. Have to stay in training, after all. Some katas, and then he’d make breakfast. Ken and Omi would appreciate it, and he would have the coffee pot ready to go when he finally got fed up and dragged Yohji out of bed.
They’d had that…debate…yesterday. The blonde would have done nothing but sleep, if Aya let him. Yohji argued Aya didn’t understand the concept of “relaxation.” Aya retorted that if Yohji got any more relaxed, they’d need to call an ambulance.
Yohji had leered and asked for mouth to mouth.
Aya felt himself smiling. It still felt odd, when his imouto wasn’t around. But the surprise on the blonde’s face, when Aya had not only agreed, but improvised a few more “medical procedures” to perform on his lover…
Get up, he remembered. He was getting up. Ignore the warm body curled next to–under–him, Yohji was dead to the world for hours yet. He started to extricate himself, but froze as soft piano notes came from the radio. Was it–he hadn’t heard this in years!
Joe Cocker, he remembered. The American who sang it, whom Ichiro had tried to mimic, was Joe Cocker. Hard to believe the man had ever been paid to sing, with how–unpolished–his voice was. But that was the appeal, for Aya. He wasn’t some slick professional. The man meant what he sang.
You are so beautiful…to me.
You are so beautiful…to me.
Can’t you see.
Like the lovesick sixteen-year-old he’d been, Aya’s gaze went to the man next to him. Yohji was beautiful, far more beautiful than Ichiro, who’d been singing the song to impress Miki-chan anyway. Though straight and healthy and wholesome, Ichiro hadn’t minded taking advantage of Fujimiya’s feelings to get a pianist who would rehearse as long as he wanted.
Yohji was like that, he took advantage. Complete and shameless advantage. He used every centimeter of that gorgeous body, and a catalogue of winsome looks, to get his way every time. Aya slept in Yohji’s room, made coffee, skipped katas, and put off looking after Aya-chan, to feed Yohji’s insatiable need. He showered alone maybe once a week, he seldom got to read anymore, and he’d barely even threatened the man when his favorite sweater mysteriously disappeared. Nor had he carried out those halfhearted threats when the sweater failed to mysteriously reappear. In the past month he’d had to spend precious yen on six alarm clocks and two clock radios, and he hadn’t even hit the bastard for it.
You’re everything I hope for.
You’re everything I need.
Despite himself, Aya turned to pull Yohji into his arms. The blonde sighed and buried his face in Aya’s shoulder.
You are so beautiful…to me.
You are so beautiful…to me.
He was so beautiful. In his soul even more than his body. Yohji shouldn’t have to take advantage, Aya admitted. He should have a lover who gave him all the attention he needed willingly, he shouldn’t have to work for a compliment or a smile when he wanted one.
So many times Aya had had this argument, with himself, with Yohji, even, to a limited extent, with Aya-chan and Omi. And all of them, including his own id or lizard brain or primal urges, whatever, answered with variations on “Yohji wants to be with you, can’t you just shut up and be happy about it?”
It was the only intelligent thing to do, he knew. This could not last, it simply was not possible that warm, beautiful, free Kudou Yohji could stand to tie himself to cold, brooding, boring Fujimiya Aya for very damned long. He should enjoy it to the absolute fullest, because when Yohji wandered off the world would be even darker than before. Especially since he’d have to not-kill whoever Yohji wandered to.
Stupid, Fujimiya. You just had to ask for it, didn’t you?
He’d tried not to, tried to keep the blonde at a distance–but with what they’d been doing, it wasn’t really possible. Keeping Yohji at a distance had never been possible, maybe. From that first morning he woke in the then-brunette’s bed, Aya had been trying to stay away from Kudou Yohji. And just look at how well he’d done. Without direction his fingers explored warm golden skin.
Failed that mission, didn’t you?
Yohji purred and stretched. Like a cat, somehow the blonde got longer when petted.
Like a cat. Yohji. Not Aya. Where the hell had he got that ridiculous nickname, anyway? Did he look fluffy to the blonde? Cute? Cuddly?
It didn’t matter, it would not be heard again. Yohji knew he’d fucked up when it slipped out, and had held his breath, waiting for Aya to leave. He would have, if he hadn’t been so incredibly, intensely aroused and…occupied. He was certain his glare had gotten his meaning across, though. Yohji said he could knock down strangers at twenty steps with that glare.
Too bad it never had much effect on Yohji.
You are so beautiful…to me.
The way the American’s voice broke on the last two words still sent chills down his spine. Aya groped behind him to turn the radio off, letting the song replay in his mind. “Moderately slow, expressively,” the sheet music had said. Soft piano notes, then…
You are so beautiful…to me.
You are so beautiful…to me.
It was amazing, how easily and well Yohji fit into his arms. Like they’d slept this way forever, like the years of darkness and hate had never been. Like it had all been just a prelude to this. Aya closed his eyes, to feel it better.
You’re everything I hope for.
You’re everything I need.
Aya had told Yohji what the blonde had meant to him through those years, but he hadn’t been able to make him understand. The bleak despair, forcing himself through the motions, doing what he must for Aya-chan, trying to make himself believe she would wake, and when she did everything would be all right again. Agonized hours at her bedside, horrified to see her like that, afraid to stop visiting because then he would truly be alone…Aya-chan thought him noble. He could not make her see that he had clung to her selfishly, because the pits of hell gaped beneath him with every step he took away from her.
You are so beautiful…to me.
You are so beautiful…to me.
But Yohji had been there. Even before he knew about Aya-chan, why anything Takatori made the Ice Princess go off the deep end, Yohji had been there, caring, flirting, talking, touching, even when he got hit for it. Aya had tried to earn his name–ice didn’t hurt, after all–but Yohji had kept him human, no matter how he suffered for the attempts.
You are so beautiful…to me.
Can’t you see.
Maybe this once, the world wouldn’t grind to a halt if Fujimiya Aya didn’t get out of bed immediately. He’d already lingered a good ten minutes, and nothing horrible had happened, right?
There, that was Ken’s bike. If he was leaving, Omi had already fed him, and Aya-chan as well. Everything was fine, they didn’t need him. And there were things Yohji liked better than coffee in the morning.
One thing, anyway.
You’re everything I hope for.
You’re every, everything I need.
You are so beautiful…to me.
Even in his memory, the words gave him chills. Aya brushed blonde hair from his lover’s face. Yohji squinched his eyes tighter with a murmur, and tried again to burrow under him.
All right, damn it. It was cute, the way he did that. Aya let him, since under him was exactly where he wanted the great Kudou Yohji. He bent to put his face by Yohji’s neck, and inhaled.
Pheromones, he’d told himself ten thousand times. Love at first, or even second, sight was pure fairy tale, and the man wasn’t that beautiful anyway. It had to be pheromones and confusion and pain and a beautiful brunette right in his face that first morning that had made him want to tackle the man and give him his bed back in a way he didn’t expect.
Too bad he hadn’t done it. He could just imagine the look on Yohji’s face as he pulled him into the bed by his Armani shirt…Aya inhaled again. Exhaled softly in Yohji’s ear, and grinned as the blonde shivered. He nibbled that jawline he admired so much, he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way Yohji set it when he pouted. The blonde purred–who the hell was he calling kitten?–and wrapped around him. Aya pulled back, but there were no other signs of consciousness. That perfect face pouted, Aya ran a hand down the blonde’s arm and the pout relaxed, the blonde wriggled. Trust Kudou Yohji to join in, awake or not.
Being a man who believed in challenges, Aya set the goal of exploring every centimeter of Yohji’s body–somehow he hadn’t gotten everywhere yet, certain parts tended to hold his attention–before he lost control and fucked the blonde into the mattress.
As a man who believed in achieving his goals, no matter how difficult, Aya thought tactically, planning his moves and making his preparations before acting. Then he started with one of Yohji’s hands. Strong and clever fingers…he nibbled and kissed, banking on the blonde soaking up the attention as long as he could keep himself still. Yohji’s hands amazed him, the things the man could do with them…not just kill, though he did that exceptionally well. Yohji could also make a beautiful flower arrangement, a mostly-edible meal, coax the weakest seedling to blooming life, comfort Omi or Aya-chan, make Aya himself feel like long-lost Ran for a little while…
Aa, there, the first sign, a smile Yohji wasn’t awake enough to smother. Aya continued his pursuit over a supple wrist, a lean but muscular forearm. Then he moved to the other hand.
“Mmmm…” Yohji breathed. Still only marginally aware, Aya bet. Left on his own, Kudou Yohji was not truly alert until two cups of coffee or two in the afternoon. Even when helped to consciousness, it was not a journey he accomplished quickly.
Aya took as long on the right hand as he had the left, enjoying every line of the palm, the way the fingers tightened when he hit a sensitive spot–he was cataloging those, of course–the intricate bones he could feel under the sun-kissed skin, Yohji’s pulse at his wrist–hmm, starting to pick up, felt like, but he didn’t pick up his own pace, continuing down the forearm, nice tender skin on the inside of the elbow–by then Yohji was biting his lip, trying and failing to lie still. Any second he’d give it up and try to return the attentions. Aya pre-empted him. Yohji’s eyes popped open to stare at his wrists, then he grinned at his lover.
“When you wake up tied up,” he murmured, “it’s bound to be a good day.”
“Only you,” Aya answered with a rusty chuckle, “could see it that way.”
“Now you got me,” the blonde said, wriggling underneath him, “whatcha gonna do with me?”
“I imagine I’ll think of something,” Aya said, and went back to his exploration. Carefully. Better to overlap than to miss a centimeter and fail in his self-imposed mission…he took his time, enjoying and experimenting–his lover arced off the bed when he nipped the back of his right knee, for instance–and saving the best-known spots for last, of course.
“A-yaaa,” Yohji whined, when he worked all the way up the blonde’s legs only to turn him on his side and trace the intricacy of muscle and bone that was Kudou Yohji’s beautiful back. Aya ignored the complaint, to suck and nibble on every bump of the lean man’s spine. “God, Aya, how–unhh!–how do you make that feel so–oh, baby, please–“
”Do not,” Aya snarled, “call me baby.” And kissed that exact spot again. Yohji writhed.
“Oh, oh–oh, damn, Aya! Damn it, I can’t help it, you make me feel so–yrrrrhhh!”
Now that was interesting reaction. Aya tried tongue alone, again. Yohji jolted into the contact. Have to remember that spot, it would be exposed by most of his crop tops. He reacted to a light finger-touch there too.
“Please, Aya, A-yaaaa–“
”Please what?” Though he knew, and knew Yohji’s answer would make completing his mission all the more difficult.
“Fuck me! Please, Aya?”
Warm perfect skin absorbed his groan. How was it possible he wanted the blonde more now than in the years he’d lived without touching such beauty?
“Please, Aya, oh please, baby, fuck me, come on, kitten–“
”Don’t call me that!” Aya snarled, even as he answered the plea by preparing that incredible ass. Damn it, why did it make him harder, when Yohji pissed him off? Now it was a choice of fuck the man or come all over his back, his control was fucking gone–
“Sorry!” the blonde gasped, shoving against Aya’s hand. “Don’t stop, I’m sorry, I won’t–unnggh!!”
Aya froze inside his lover. Goddamnit, too eager! If he’d hurt Yohji–
“Move!” the blonde demanded.
“Yohji–“
”Move, damn it! I said I was sorry, please, please, please move!”
Aya buried another groan in that golden back and moved. Slow, felt so damn good but keep it slow, he’d barely stretched Yohji at all–
“Motto!” Yohji demanded. “Come on, baby, give it to me–“
Yohji made him insane. Aya roughly flipped his lover up onto elbows and knees, angled the man’s hips, and thrust.
“A-YA!” Yohji shouted. Aya did it again, Yohji shouted again. Knowing he’d regret the bruises later, Aya clutched those bony hips and slammed into his lover, reveling in every grunt and wriggle and moan, the sweat dripping off him onto that perfect skin, Yohji trembling and gasping and begging for more, don’t stop, keep going, harder, faster, more, more, more, never stop–
It was what he wanted too. He bit his lip and held back, thought about American baseball and held back, mind over matter, willpower, hold back–
Yohji called him “kitten” again, Aya smacked that sexy ass and came with a snarled shout. His mind exploded into tiny glittering shards as Yohji shouted too.
When enough brain reassembled Aya could think again, he groaned.
“Oh yeah,” Yohji answered. “Fuck.”
“We just did,” Aya responded, the traditional smartass answer. Move, get up, untie Yohji and get him a towel–
“Umm…” Yohji murmured, straightening his legs and dumping them both to the bed. “Stay right there for about twenty years.”
“You’ll get stuck to the bed,” Aya protested, untying the scarf.
“Don’t care…”
“Eventually you would.” Aya rolled Yohji to the dry side of the bed and cleaned him up before lying beside him. Yohji wriggled closer.
“Umm. Okay, stay right there for the next twenty years.”
Aya chuckled and lifted his lover’s hands. A little red on the wrists, but no chafing and no bruising. He’d thought he might have tied too tight, but apparently not.
“Umm…” Yohji purred, as Aya massaged the circulation back into those incredible hands. One sparkling green eye cranked open. “Are you staying?” he asked. Aya shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“When I wake up,” the blonde promised, “I’m going to have sex with you. You might as well be there.”
Out of habit, Aya tried not to laugh. He failed. Yohji smirked and buried his face in his lover’s chest and fell back to sleep, still wearing that self-satisfied smirk. Aya could feel it against his skin.
When he was absolutely certain the infuriating, inspiring, insanity-inducing man was asleep, Aya brushed blonde hair back from a sweat-damp forehead, and kissed golden skin.
“You are so beautiful,” he sang softly, “to me…”
*****
Ken was back by the time they made it downstairs. Omi had made coffee and didn’t say a word beyond a polite good morning, but Ken smirked and peered at the clock before congratulating them on finding the stairs. Aya ignored him, Yohji ruffled his hair.
“Jealous, Kenken? Don’t worry, someday you’ll find someone too.”
“Maybe I already did,” Ken returned. “Maybe I just don’t flaunt it like some people.”
“It?” Yohji asked. “Kenken, you should at least stick to your own species.”
Aya bit an-already sore lip to keep his face straight, and handed Yohji his coffee. The water was on for tea, and Omi had gathered French omelette-makings in the refrigerator. Ken smirked again as Aya piled the foods on the counter.
“You going to start doing his laundry, too?”
Glare then ignore, just like always, this was no different–Yohji grabbed the brunette in a head-lock. “Ooh, did we get close to something here? Who is it, Kenken? Who’s the lucky girl? Or is it a guy? Does he look good in soccer shorts?”
“Out of the kitchen!” Aya snapped, as the not-tight-enough headlock devolved into a full wrestling match.
“Yippee-ki-ay!” Yohji whooped, letting his opponent drag him away. He waved an imaginary cowboy hat and winked at Aya as he vanished.
“Wait, Yohji-kun, you shouldn’t–“ Omi began, then, “Ken-kun, not the–“
Something fell with a heavy crash, and the tinkle of broken glass. Aya set down the eggs and listened. Yohji laughed, Omi scolded, Ken apologized. Aya picked up the bowl.
Omi was up to something, Aya decided as he chopped green onions. Yohji was enjoying himself too much to catch on, and Ken wouldn’t notice until someone hit him with something, but Aya could see the orchestration. Omi had clearly bought groceries with an eye to compromise, rather than everyone fixing and eating their own preferences. It was Omi’s casual curiosity that had led to Yohji teaching them all to play poker last night, and Omi who made sure Ken didn’t lose as badly as he could have. Omi had reminded Yohji of the hot springs–Aya wiped the grin off his face as soon as he realized it was there–and Ken of the soccer games on satellite. Normally when the four got the chance, they went in separate directions as fast as their transportation could take them. But this time…
The boy was a good strategist, focusing on Yohji. Making the blonde happy wasn’t hard to do, and once Yohji was enjoying himself, he had a way of dragging everyone else along with him. Like now, when he’d invented a new way to clean up Ken’s latest mess.
“Good throw!” his voice encouraged. “Beat that, Omittchi!”
“Yohji-kun,” the boy said with a sigh. Ken crowed.
“Oh, yeah! Thought you were better than that, Bombay!”
“The wind caught it!”
“Lame! Keep that up, and you’ll be the only one out there cleaning up!”
“Hey,” Yohji said, coming into the kitchen. “Smells good.”
“Hn.”
The blonde wrapped his arms around Aya’s waist and buried his face in his neck. “The food too,” he murmured. “But not as good.”
Aya kept his attention on the omelette. “You’re going to annoy Ken.”
“Fuck Ken.”
“If you do, I’ll kill you both,” Aya said without thinking. Yohji did that to him. Damn it. The blonde chuckled.
“Like I needed to be told that.”
He was joking, Aya reminded himself. Yohji was not attracted to Ken. And Ken–well, maybe he was a little too upset, every time he came across Aya and Yohji together? He’d only actually seen anything once–that Aya was aware of, anyway–but even as little as a meaningful glance could set the man off with irritated looks and snide remarks.
Yohji ran his hands down Aya’s sides, smoothing his lover’s body back against him. “Forget the food,” he murmured, his voice soft and sinful, “Ayan. Come back upstairs.”
“You’re skinny enough without skipping meals.”
“I’ll find something to eat,” Yohji promised, and his tongue tugged at the little hoop Aya had put in, to replace Aya-chan’s earring.
Aya-chan. Kami-sama, he hadn’t even thought of her until now! Where was she?
“Shit,” Yohji muttered, and moved away to pick up his coffee. Aya raised his voice to interrupt the continuing game in the other room.
“Omi? Where is Aya-chan?”
“Aya-kun, isn’t it wonderful?” The boy came smiling, setting off alarms in Aya’s head. “Sakura-san is home. She called this morning, she’s staying just down the mountain. Aya-chan went to visit her.”
Yohji took three quick steps away. Aya raised one eyebrow.
“How,” he asked, “did she get there?”
“Ken-kun took her,” the boy said. As if it were nothing.
“Ken? On his bike?” He’d been wrong. One time–one time–he stayed in bed, and they–
“She’s fine, Aya-kun.” Omi made calming motions. “Ken let her wear his helmet, and she’s fine, you can call her if you want, I asked if she had her cell phone. Aya-kun, the food–“
Damn it. Aya threw the whole pan in the sink and went outside to call his sister.
Aya-chan didn’t answer. Aya stood still, though, instead of sprinting for his keys.
Yohji was right, he was smothering her. Aya-chan was fine, she just didn’t want to interrupt a long-awaited gossip with a good friend, to get bitched at by her over-protective brother. She’d made it safely down, Ken would not have dared come back if she had so much as a scratch. Aya would get her later in the Porsche, and she would never get within two meters of that bike again. He would flay Ken just to be sure, and then–
Che. He couldn’t kill Ken, that would shatter the team dynamics beyond repair.
Kuso.
When he went back inside Yohji was sitting at the table, eating half the omelette. He waved his coffee at the place next to him, set with the other half of the omelette and a mug of cooling tea.
“Come on, Ayan. You can’t afford to skip meals any more than I can.”
“I’ll find something else to eat,” Aya growled, pulling the blonde out of his chair. He had time to register the delight on Yohji’s face before he pinned the blonde to the wall and–
“Aya-kun!” Omi called. “Yohji-kun! When you are done, will you please come in here?”
“Sure…” Yohji gasped. “Just give us…give us an hour!”
“Shouldn’t have answered,” Aya muttered. “Just go–“ and he hauled the blonde towards the stairs. But Omi appeared in the doorway, with Ken behind him. The soccer player drew breath to complain, Omi cut him off.
“I am sorry, Yohji-kun, Aya-kun, but I do think we all need to talk. Won’t you bring your drinks and come into the living room?”
Aya let go of Yohji and stalked into the other room.
Damn. There was a mission after all. Omi had prepared for a serious planning session, with snacks and paper and pens and a “smokeless” ashtray. Unsharpened pencils for Yohji to play with, Ken’s soccer ball by the brunette’s favorite of the couches, Omi’s laptop, though, was not–
“If you would sit there, Aya-kun, with Yohji-kun.” Omi ushered all of them to seats, made sure the right snack was in front of the right person, settled them with enough stationery supplies to last a year, then finally sat and drew a deep breath.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here tonight,” Yohji said with a grin. Omi rolled his eyes.
“Please, Yohji-kun.” He leaned forward to pull a sheaf of papers from a file. “I noticed no one thought I was wrong, that we as a team were falling apart,” he said. “I also noticed no one made any suggestions on what to do about it. So,” and that hint of steel that he usually only showed dark beasts was in his eyes, “I made arrangements.” He stood to hand a piece of paper to each of his teammates. “I thought a team-building seminar was probably a bad idea,” the teen said, “seeing our line of work. So we’re going to try it without the professionals.”
Aya looked at the paper.
Getting to Know You! A fun team-building event for small–
Kami-sama. He really should have stayed in bed.
“No fair!” Yohji yelped. “Omi, make up a new question for Aya, we already know the answer to the first one!”
Question one was, “If you were to choose a new name for yourself, what would it be?” Aya skimmed down the rest of the questions.
“2–If you were given an extra thousand yen in change, what would you do with it and why?”
“3–What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned from your past relationships?”
“4–What’s one of your worst habits?”
“5–What was the best day of the past week for you–why?”
“6–What are you wearing today which is most reflective of who you are?”
“7–Choose a unique item from your wallet and explain why you carry it around.”
“8–If you could change one thing about your physical appearance what would it be and why?”
“9–If you were given a million dollars and 24 hours to spend it in, (no depositing it in the bank or investing it) what would you buy?”
“10–Share one of your most embarrassing moments.”
“This is stupid,” Aya said, since Ken didn’t. He wondered what Omi had threatened the athlete with, as he put the list on the table and stood. “Omi–“
”Anou, Aya-kun,” that steel in his eyes belied his polite tone, “do you agree that Weiss is falling apart?”
“I do not think playing silly party games is going to help.”
“Aw, come on, Ayan,” Yohji hooked a bare foot in his elbow, tugging him back. “It’ll be fun. I’m dying to know your bad habit.”
“Paying any attention to you,” Aya snapped, removing the foot and trying not to think how Yohji’s unconscious agility turned him on. Or what he could do to that foot, to have the blonde gasping and begging in moments.
“Aya-kun,” Omi said, “who will care for Aya-chan when we are dead?”
“That’s–“
”Don’t you think your great-aunt is a little–mature–to really watch over her?”
To borrow a word from Yohji, shit.
“I think Kritiker would disagree with your choice of guardian,” the merciless genki went on. “After all, you are an honored part of their organization, they might feel they should take on the responsibility. Not to mention they have to find your sister interesting. They probably wonder if talent runs in the family. Look at mine.”
“Are you threatening Aya-chan to make Aya do something?” Ken snarled, leaping up. Aya shook his head.
“No. He’s telling the simple truth, and pointing out that if he can learn my plans, so can Kritiker.” Which meant he needed to participate in anything that might make the difference between him alive to keep Aya-chan safe–and him dead, with Aya-chan viewed as a potential replacement.
It also meant he needed to make better plans. Aya sat. Yohji threw a leg across his lap, and handed him a notebook and pen. “Pssst, Ayan!” he said in a stage-whisper. “What’s the answer to number two?” Aya stuck an elbow in his lover’s ribs. It was bad enough he had to participate, worse that Omi had blackmailed him, did the damn blonde have to almost make him laugh?
“So!” Omi said with his usual sunny smile. “You’ve figured out I’d like you to answer the questions, then we’ll take turns sharing our answers.”
Che. Aya forced down a sigh and scanned the questions again. Umm…second most embarrassing moment. There was no way he was sharing the worst, asking the clerk at the adult store for help, he had a date with a beautiful and experienced man and he did not want to look like an idiot. The damn boy had taken him to the right section, but called one of his co-workers when he didn’t know anything about the products. The girl didn’t know anything either, and asked her boyfriend who was browsing the porn and waiting for her. All four of them had stood there staring at the items, and the only reason Aya didn’t die on the spot was that would have left Yohji stranded. It had seemed like a damn blushing contest Aya was winning, until the owner came out to see what the hell was going on.
Mmm. Have to remember to take Kohana-chan another bouquet. Her advice continued to be excellent.
And damn it, Yohji’s leg was in a position to let him know where Aya’s thoughts were. The blonde leaned into his ear.
“What question are you on?” he whispered. Aya shook his head. “Whatever it is,” the blonde went on, “I’m changing my answer to number five to today, because of it.”
Number five–best day of the past week. Aya mostly managed to contain his answering grin.
“Omi!” Ken whined. “They’re doing it again!”
“We are not,” Yohji said, throwing his arm around Aya’s neck. “Yet.” He yanked Aya’s head back and stuck his tongue down his throat.
Hit him, he really ought to hit the damn man–
“Anou, Aya-kun–“
Maybe later. Aya wrenched away to experiment with Yohji’s earring, it had felt so good when done to him. Maybe the others would give up and leave and he could–
“Damn it, Omi, make them stop!”
Yohji gasped and shivered. Aya decided he didn’t give a damn if the others left or not. He yanked his lover into his lap, the blonde purred happily.
“Onegai, Aya-kun–“
Damn, Yohji’s ass was so addictive it ought to be illegal…Aya squeezed and reflected that no stupid law would slow him down anyway.
”He can’t hear you,” Ken growled in disgust. “Get a hose, Omi, cold water works on dogs.”
Too damn many clothes…
“I’m trying to keep all of us alive,” Omi reminded. “That would be counter-productive.”
“There’s someone coming anyway.” Ken laughed. “Oh, Aya, your sister’s home!”
“Shit!” Yohji yelped, as Aya dumped him back on the couch. Deep breaths, deep–pillow in the lap, and deep breaths and don’t look at Yohji with that only half-ravished pout–
Then the door slammed and Aya forgot all about Yohji. Aya-chan was–crying. Sakura had followed her in, and there were tears on her face too.
“Aya–“ he began as he rose, she shook her head.
“Tell me,” she gasped out. “Tell me it’s not true!”
“What?”
“Tell me you’re not a killer!”
Aya stared as the floor dropped from under him. Lie! instinct screamed, but it was too late, even as he opened his mouth. She knew.
“And you!” she pointed at Yohji, the finger waved to include the others. “All of you? You do it together?”
“Aya-chan–“ Sakura began.
“Ran,” Aya-chan whispered. “How could you?”
It didn’t matter that he had done it for her. The guilt was his.
“You make me sick,” Aya-chan hissed. Yohji bounced off the couch.
“Wait just a minute! You–“
Aya hit him, knocked the breath out of him so he couldn’t finish. Fresh tears welled in his imouto’s eyes.
“I don’t even know you,” she breathed, and ran upstairs.
Aya’s legs folded, he thumped to the floor staring after her.
*****
As mentioned, “You Are So Beautiful” is sung by the so-expressive Joe Cocker.
http://www.wilderdom.com/ is where I found the teambuilding exercise. I only changed it a little.