“Mou, Ayan–“
”I said no, Kudou. Go find someone else to play with.”
The pout was fake, the hurt in those green eyes very real. Yohji blinked, and walked away. No, slunk away, crept out to the greenhouse like a dog who’d been kicked and cursed but still would come scampering joyfully back at a kind word. Aya turned his attention to the arrangements. He didn’t want to watch Yohji walk like that.
What did the blond expect? Why would Aya go clubbing? Why should he? That was the whole point of them getting together, so Yohji wouldn’t have to find what he needed out in unpredictable Tokyo. To keep him home, to keep him safe. Because Aya needed Yohji to be safe. Like he needed Aya-chan to be safe.
Thinking about Yohji always led Aya to these thoughts that hurt and scared him. He wanted Omi and Ken safe, he did. But Aya-chan and Yohji were on a different level. How could he protect two people with all his skill and soul and–heart?
What had Yohji done to him?
Omi was sending reproachful looks. The boy was very, very good at them. If it weren’t for the years of knowing Aya that Aya-chan could invest in hers, Omi would have been better even than she. What did he–they, always, anymore, it was all three of them against Aya–expect? Why were they always on Yohji’s side?
That should have felt like a betrayal, because it was. And it did, with Ken and Omi. But Aya-chan–Aya was hurt his sister didn’t stand behind him. But it pleased him, too, how much she cared for Yohji. She was protecting Aya’s lover too, and she was so much better at the things that really mattered to Yohji. She knew how to make him happy.
If she weren’t at Keiko’s–
If Aya-chan weren’t at Keiko’s, Aya would have been maneuvered into going clubbing. She and Omi were working out a level of cooperation that had Aya deciding every other night that the innocent-looking blonde needed a reminder of just how sharp his katana was.
They really needed to have that conversation. Maybe tonight, since it didn’t look like Yohji would be distracting Aya. It was shameful he had let it go so long. What kind of big brother put off such an important discussion for nothing more than a beautiful blond wanting sex now?
The image that accompanied that thought made his pants too tight. This was…disgusting.
What he needed to do was to let Yohji go. Aya could not give him what he needed, not and take care of Aya-chan too. Wasn’t it clear their needs were already conflicting? Yohji deserved someone completely devoted to him alone. But the alternatives…Aya had been through this a thousand times. And they’d only been together two weeks.
The alternatives were, one, Yohji went back to going out every night, finding some new piece to let him sleep, every night. Dangerous for a thousand reasons; Aya couldn’t let that happen. Option two, Yohji found himself one person, one steady person who could be trusted to take care of him and keep his/her mouth shut. That hurt, but all the alternatives did. It wasn’t hurt that made Aya reject it. It was the fact that in the years Aya had known Yohji, the blond had never done that. Aya didn’t know why. Yohji’s devotion to the memory of Asuka showed that he was capable of it, but–well, he hadn’t.
Option three, Yohji found what he needed at home. The choices there were pretty limited. Omi too young and apparently straighter than anyone thought, Ken too straight, Aya-chan off-limits to anyone not willing to die a long, lingering, hideously painful death—and that left…Aya.
Aya wasn’t enough. Yohji had Aya, every night and a couple afternoons he’d managed to finagle, but still he wanted to go out, to “have some fun for once.”
“Aya-kun,” Omi knew his thoughts had wandered too far to see his reproachful looks, “Aya-chan said she would help me close. You could go.”
Go get his sword, that was a good idea–
Not with Aya-chan on her way home. Aya had scripted the needed conversation with Omi several times, enough to know he did not want his imouto to hear a word of it.
“Go on, Aya-kun. Aya-chan will be here in a moment.” Clear in his eyes was the promise that Aya-chan would be hearing of this, and Aya knew what would happen then. If he went to his room, Aya-chan would be there in minutes, either to drag him out or shove Yohji in. If he went anywhere else, it would be even easier for her. Them. They worked in pairs at least, whenever possible.
The boy had got him again, on his own this time except for the threat of Aya’s sister. His best option was to admit the battle was lost, and go to Yohji.
Losing should not make him happy.
“I will make sure the greenhouse is in order.”
“Arigatou, Aya-kun.” At least Omi was a lot better than Aya-chan at not gloating over a battle won.
Yohji was smoking in the greenhouse, knowing it was forbidden. He sighed and stubbed it out, didn’t even try to hide it. Then he rubbed his hand across his face. “Look, Aya, I’m sorry. I just–“
”Shut up, Yohji.” He should not be apologizing. Aya was the one who didn’t know how to give his lover what he needed, so he wouldn’t need to go get it himself.
Yohji was leaning against the workbench; Aya stepped between his legs and kissed him. So much easier to get his point across this way, rather than trying to talk…
Kami-sama, he was coming to like the taste of stale cigarettes. Well, not like, just–that taste meant Yohji, and Yohji meant pleasure. Aya could probably lick an ashtray and get hard anymore…
Yohji made him think the stupidest things.
“Okay,” Yohji breathed when Aya slid off his lips to adore that beautiful jaw. “Okay. Where do you want me?”
That wasn’t anticipation in his voice. That was…resignation? Aya jerked back to look in his eyes.
He wouldn’t meet Aya’s. What, Yohji didn’t want him anymore? Trust Kudou Yohji not to say so, just to go on as they were and hope things got better again. Aya turned and walked out. He could tell Yohji he understood later. Right then he couldn’t speak.
Omi and Aya-chan stared as Aya walked through the Koneko. Omi started to come after him, but Aya-chan said something and he didn’t. Thank you, little sister, when he really needed her…
Aya worked katas in his room since even with his katana in hand, his housemates chose to see his being out of his room as an invitation to talk to him. Aya didn’t want to talk to even Aya-chan. Let Yohji tell them all their machinations could come to an end. He had tired of Aya already.
Katas. Do not think, simply do. Again. And again. And again. That heavy feeling was an illusion, he could always do more than he thought he could, he would decide when he was done, he would not give in to this weakness, he would not, he was not weak, he must be strong, he must be–
Wanting Yohji was weak. Aya should never have given in to it. Letting him–no, he could not even blame that on Yohji. The blond was the playboy, but Aya was the one who got close to him, who got them out of that basement instead of just waiting Omi out, who drove them up to the mountains and sat next to Yohji on the rug and poured his soul into seducing him. None of this was his fault, it had all been Aya.
Had he thought it would last forever? The great Kudou Yohji wanting Aya at all had been astonishing, why hadn’t he realized it could not last? Wasn’t ‘over’ what he’d wanted? Now he could devote himself to Aya-chan, and Yohji could find–
A flash of rage stunned him, a quick vision of the parade of meaningless fucks and Aya had stabbed the wall before he even realized he was attacking.
Why was he reacting like a jilted and jealous girl?
“Fujimiya,” he told himself, “you are one fucked-up dude.” Yohji’s words, though he’d directed them at himself. They fit Aya as well.
Katas, Fujimiya. Fucked up he undoubtedly was, and there was no fixing him. But katas would keep him fit for the only thing that mattered, the only thing he could still do. Keep Aya-chan safe. And Yohji. His or not.
No one came to bother him. Finally they had all realized there just wasn’t any point.
When the room got dark, he didn’t stop to turn on a light. He didn’t need it.
***
“Aya, come on, open the door! Please?”
He didn’t think, Aya did. Yohji’s voice could do that to him. When he was sleepy or distracted or in a kata-and-exhaustion induced trance, Aya just did what Yohji told him to without thinking. Weak, he should never act without thinking–
All Aya could see was an outline, the light was on in the hall. The shape that was Yohji’s blond head tossed in irritation.
“In the dark, like I figured.” He turned the light on; Aya blinked at the tray in his hands.
Wait a minute, what was he doing here? Shouldn’t he have told them to send Aya-chan, that the whole Aya/Yohji thing was over? Of course they still had to maintain a working relationship, but–
“Katas the whole damn time, I bet.” Yohji set the tray on the dresser, took the katana and shoved Aya to sit on the bed.
“Why are you here?” Why did his voice sound strangled?
“Stupidity,” the blond said, shoving a cup of tea at Aya. He found the saya, sheathed the katana and put it on its rack. Then he sat next to Aya, and his fingers twitched towards his cigarettes.
“Don’t even think about it, Kudou.”
“I know that! It’s just habit, and it’s ten times worse when I’m nervous.”
Nervous? The great Kudou Yohji?
Well, he didn’t have much experience at long-term break-ups, did he? Except for Asuka, Aya was the longest-term relationship he’d ever had. Of course he was nervous. Not to mention there was a lovely sharp sword not five steps away.
Should make it easier on him. Aya should…none of it was Yohji’s fault, after all. Aya knew he should give Yohji a formal apology, but he was too weak to make himself do it. He looked away and did what he could.
“It’s all right, Yohji. I understand.”
“That makes one of us. What did I do wrong, Aya?”
“You?” That jerked his head around. What did Yohji think he–
Okay, Fujimiya, get a clue. What Yohji thought was happening, and what Aya thought was happening, were two completely different things. As usual. If they didn’t figure it out, they were going to be locked in the damn basement again. And Aya didn’t doubt Omi had dealt with the minor detail of bars that opened if one knew the latch.
Yohji leaned very slowly to kiss Aya. Gently at first, then Yohji’s tongue probed at his lips. As soon as Aya opened his mouth, he knew Yohji still wanted him. Yohji had brushed his teeth, for one, and the way he explored, enjoyed, tasted every centimeter, clutched at Aya’s hair as if pulling away had even crossed his mind…
“Okay,” Yohji gasped when the choice became stop or pass out. He put his forehead to Aya’s; they panted together. “Okay. Now we know that much.”
“It’s all we need.” Aya set the tea on the nightstand. Yohji snatched it and shoved it at Aya.
“No, it’s not. We need to figure this out, Aya. I’m tired of wondering what the hell I did wrong. And Aya-chan and Omi were talking about ‘Ken’s Plan’ and I really don’t like the way they smile when they do that.”
“All right.” Aya sipped the awful tea, if it meant that much to him. “How are we supposed to ‘figure this out?’”
“Forget clubbing, we’ll argue that out another time. Why did you walk away from me in the greenhouse?”
“Because you didn’t want me. Even I could see that.”
“Aya, what I didn’t want was us solving another problem with sex. Because then it’s not solved, it always comes back.”
“Sex is all we have, Yohji.”
The blond closed those beautiful eyes for a moment, as if he’d seen something horrible. Why did Aya always hurt him? Why did Yohji always make him?
“Okay,” Yohji said, just as he had in the greenhouse. Resigned. “That’s the way you want it, okay. Whatever you want, Aya.”
No. That wasn’t good enough. “What about what you want, Kudou?”
“I want you.”
“Yohji–“
”Aya, I want you. I’ll take what you give me, I’ll try not to ask for more, just please don’t get your damn noble ideas to end this.”
So. Yohji was not happy with the crumbs Aya gave him. As he shouldn’t be. But the blond thought there was more Aya could give, and he was wrong. Aya-chan had first claim. Any of Ran that was left must go to her. Ran was Aya-chan’s. Abyssinian belonged to Kritiker. Whatever poor remnants were left to be Aya, those sorry scraps he could give to Yohji.
Why wouldn’t he see that he deserved so much more?
“Please, Aya.” This time Yohji set the tea aside to pull Aya into his arms. “Please don’t end this. I nee–“
”Shut up, Yohji.”
And he did. Who would have dreamed Kudou actually listening would bother Aya so much? He didn’t know what to do about that, either, so Aya just kissed the blond. Aya had learned why Yohji liked sex so much–it could make even him forget.
As always Yohji took Aya’s breath away. So beautiful, so perfect, tongues tangling, teeth and lips and gasps for air as Aya leaned back, drawing him down onto the bed–
“Hold on.” Yohji wrenched away, stood and held out his hand. He hated Aya’s bed. That first night back from the mountains, he’d turned up at Aya’s door with a few things and a hopeful, nervous smile. But after that night, Yohji always did his best to drag them to his bed. He only slept in Aya’s room when he couldn’t get Aya out of it.
Mistake, Kudou, giving Aya a chance to think…his smile faded, but Yohji sat back down and reached for Aya. He dodged and ran, darted into the hall.
“Oi, Aya! What are you–“
Aya closed Yohji’s door in his face and locked it.
“Aya! Let me in! What are you doing?”
Good, his keys were on the dresser. Aya threw the window open first; the place stank of stale smoke anyway. Not that it wasn’t pleasant in its own way. In the hall Ken asked why the hell Yohji had locked himself out, and got an earful of some of the finest swearing in Tokyo. Whatever else he was, Yohji was–educational.
Candles first. Music second. Toy drawer… Ah yes. The toy drawer. Aya went back and changed the music. When Yohji climbed in the window, he was ready.
“You little sneak,” he growled, taking in the preparations and trying not to grin. “What do you think you’re doing, locking me out of my own room?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to go out tonight?” Aya hit ‘play’ on the remote.
“Evil.” Yohji wagged a finger. “You are evil, Fujimiya.” He made a face as the CD started.
“Well, I’m back again,” Dwight Yoakam sang, “for another night.
Of trying to break free from the sadness that I can’t lay to rest.”
“No!” Yohji gasped, laughing. “God, Aya, I thought you spoke enough English to know better!” He kicked off his shoes and knelt on the head of the bed, reaching for the CD player. Aya jumped behind him, caught his hands and handcuffed him and laid him on his stomach before he realized. Before he decided to struggle, at least. Aya planted a foot on that gorgeous ass to keep him there while he changed the CD. Philip Glass. Aya had brought it and Yohji hadn’t played it. Tonight he’d learn why he should have.
“A-ya!” the blond protested, still laughing. “You’re not supposed to do it like–“
“I’ll put the cuffs and you where I want, Kudou, and you’ll enjoy it.”
“Make me,” Yohji challenged, the laughter still in his voice. Aya prodded with his toe as the music started.
“Oh, I plan on it.” First, though, Aya sat on that fine ass–and on his wrists–and teased him with light tickles on his sides, waiting for the music to catch up. Then Aya leaned next to his ear and inhaled. Yohji. Just breathing him made Aya dizzy. “This is Philip Glass,” he whispered. “This CD is pure sex. Listen, it’s telling you exactly what I’m going to do to you. That,” quick, light notes, skirling away and whirling back, “is how I’m going to tease you, I’m going to wind you up till every touch has you gasping. And that,” unexpected but perfect, clarinet over synthesizer, “is how I’m going to surprise you, until every centimeter of that beautiful skin is tingling, hoping, because you won’t know where I’m going next. And that,” driving rhythm, deep and hard, “you know what that is.” Aya grinned at the hitch in Yohji’s breath. There was more, so much more to the music, but that was enough for tonight. He slipped the blindfold over that lovely blond head, held on when he tossed it. “Be good,” Aya reminded, “and I’ll give you a present.”
“I like presents,” Yohji agreed.
“You’ll love this one,” Aya promised, debating where to start unwrapping his own present. He chose a sock and pulled, then paid some long overdue attention to the great Kudou Yohji’s very sexy left foot. Tongue and lips just made him wriggle and laugh and protest, but when Aya switched to teeth, his breathing changed. Gotcha…
Moving to his right foot would be expected, so when Aya was done there he nibbled up the hamstring a little, then lifted Yohji to kneeling, his hands still behind him. “Stay right there,” Aya told him. And went for a couple more…props.
“Aya?” His lover was craning his neck, trying to see down the sides of his nose. “What–“
”I’m here,” Aya answered to cover up the noises he was making. “Don’t get your hopes up, Kudou, I am far from finished with you.”
“Yeah, I did think you had a little more stamina than that.” He was smirking under the blindfold. Aya knelt in front of him and kissed the smirk away, but when Yohji tried to press against him, Aya pushed him back. Then he started down that gilded neck, nibbling and sucking and–
“A-YA!” A small chunk of ice, melting down the crack of that lovely ass. Aya smirked and kissed Yohji again, rubbed it in and warmed him with his hand, unbuttoned Yohji’s shirt and teased his nipple, then sucked him in. He yelled again, trying to jerk away from another ice-chunk, but wanting the suction–
Aya tormented his lover until Yohji was gasping, that beautiful torso heaving, his shirt bunched around one wrist. Ice, feathers, heating massage oil, tongue, lips, teeth, hair, he’d used it all. Aya sat back a moment to soak in the view. Especially as Yohji kept shifting, trying to ease the pressure in his pants. Kami-sama he was breathtaking.
“Ay–“ he began; Aya groped him. “AYA!” Aya grinned and gave Yohji another squeeze, then unbuttoned his fly. Good thing he didn’t care for zippers. Aya would be afraid of catching him in one.
Yohji’s not wearing underwear was a lovely thing as well. As soon as Aya cleared the path, his beautiful cock popped out to play. Aya jumped up to strip, came back to rub against his lover.
“Aya…” Yohji moaned. “God, Aya, you are evil…”
“It’s your own fault,” Aya told him, wrapping a hand around both of them. “I look at you and all sorts of naughty ideas jump into my head.”
“Aya…” He threw his head back, thrusting into Aya’s hand. Did he think he was getting off that easy? Aya lay the blond on his side, stripped his pants off. “Aya, please…”
Aya made good use of the heating massage oil. It heated more when blown on. He didn’t stop until Yohji was writhing on the bed, panting and gasping and begging. Just the way Aya wanted him. Quickly he switched the handcuffs in front. Before freedom penetrated the lust, he had Yohji cuffed again. Then Aya knelt and pulled Yohji back onto his lap.
“Aya…oh God, yes–“
”Put your arms up, Yohji.” Aya pulled them above the blond’s head, then eased Yohji down. So good, so hot, so perfect…
“Aya,” he moaned. “God, Aya, more…”
He always wanted more. Sometimes Aya could give it to him. He let the lanky body slide down, listening for any sounds of pain, but Yohji only sighed pleasure.
“Move, Ayan.”
Aya took hold of him, and waited for the music. Built the rhythm with the song, fucked his beautiful lover, Yohji and Aya and the music, harder and faster and grunting and moaning and swearing together and faster and harder and Yohji threw his head back with a shout, and seeing and feeling him sent Aya over too and he only had enough wit to pull them sideways so they collapsed to the bed and Yohji was shaking in his arms…
“Aya…” he breathed after long moments of panting. “Fuck, Aya…”
“Hn.” Get up, get him a towel, get up…
“Cuffs,” he muttered. “Aya…”
Right. Damn. Aya levered himself up to get his hand in the drawer, uncuffed Yohji and put the props on the nightstand. Put them away later…should get him a towel…
“Aya,” he whispered, snuggling up. “Aya.”
“Hn.” Yohji was almost asleep, and Aya wasn’t far behind. Towel, or they’d be sorry…
“Sweet–“ he yawned, “sweet dreams, koi.”
Koi. Love.
Coward that he was, Aya wanted to run. He didn’t, but only because there wasn’t any point. If he left Yohji, in an hour the blond would be slipping into Aya’s bed, freshly-showered and still trembling from the nightmares.
No. Let one of them get a night’s sleep. Aya cleaned them up with his shirt, and let Yohji do his impersonation of a python with its prey. A deeply satisfied, pleasantly rumbling boa constrictor, wrapped around its dying prey.
****
Please review, I’m pathetically needy. I’m not kidding, ask anyone.
If you don’t know Philip Glass, you should make a point of it. I didn’t use any particular CD to write this with, though.