The Mile-High Club

Disclaimer: They’re not mine, not even on weekends. I make no money on these stories. I just wrote this because Aya in that uniform was truly hot. Also, I am aware Japan uses the metric system. Kilometer-High Club just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

In one episode of Weiss, the target charters a full-size commercial jet to escape Japan. Though Weiss could have gotten to him sooner, they wait until the plane has been in the air some time (flown by auto-pilot, apparently) before killing him.

Though we didn’t get to see it (sigh!), I’m sure this is the reason. 😉

********

“Ken-kun, please be more careful!”

“Sorry!” Ken sank back into the co-pilot’s seat with a sigh, as Omi did something with his laptop that righted the plane. “Tell me again why we’re still in the air?”

“We have to pretend to follow the flight plan,” the blonde boy repeated. “So we’ll go on a little longer, and once we’re off airport radar we’ll turn, and come down on a Kritiker-run airfield.”

“Yeah, but why are we in the air in the first place? Why didn’t you just kill him in the first-class lounge?”

“Aya-kun wanted to do it. You know that.”

“He could have gone into the lounge, then.” Ken leaned forward. Omi was–yes, he was blushing! “What? What did you do?”

“Nothing!” The blonde boy threw his hair back to glare at Ken. It was kind of cute. Especially compared to Aya’s. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Ken-kun. We completed the mission we were given. How we do it is up to us. And since you–again!–left all the planning to me, I don’t see why you’re questioning me now.”

There was more to it than getting the job done, Ken could see that much. “Aw, come on, Omi. Give. Why are we on the plane?”

“Ken-kun–“

”Was it Aya’s idea?” Mr. Cold Efficiency? That didn’t make sense. “No, it was Yohji’s! What is the mighty Yotan up to now? Flying us off for an island vacation?” Beaches and bonfires and hula girls, oh please?

“On Kritiker’s money? No!”

“Damn.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ken shifted to hang upside down over the arm of the chair, Omi often responded to silliness. “Come on, give. Why are we in the air?”

“Ken-kun, watch your feet!”

******

“This way.” Yohji led into the so-called galley. Hmm, countertops, dishwasher–drink cart?

”Balinese, there is no one else on this plane! Thirty-seven people approached it after it was chartered, and thirty-seven people walked away from it.”

“Forty-one, counting us.”

“Kudou–“

Yohji loved the way Aya just trailed off, like there wasn’t an insult vile enough to follow his name. If he pushed, though, Aya would come up with something. Aya was very skilled that way.

What else he might be skilled at, was the question currently burning in Yohji’s mind. He’d taken a chance, bribed and cajoled and convinced the chibi, managed to snow Aya so far, risked his life alone with the man when he was bound to figure it out any second, all for–

Yohji’s comm clicked twice. Aya held up a hand, listening. Yohji took his earpiece off, knowing that was the message. They’d reached altitude. Now or never. Either he’d fulfill a lifelong fantasy in an absolutely unbelievable way–or he’d crash and burn. Literally.

“Aya,” he said, and his voice squeaked. Shit! Deep breath–Aya glared for silence, still waiting for a message. Yohji had already lost the hat and the tie, he unbuttoned the uniform jacket. Aya’s glare deepened as he spoke into the tiny microphone.

“Bombay, repeat?” God, Aya in white gloves! Come on, you gutless wonder. Yohji lit a cigarette. Aya snarled silently and snatched it, stepped closer to toss it in the sink. Yohji pinned him against the counter before he thought.

“You’re right, there’s no one here,” he confessed quickly. “There’s no message. I planned this. The mission’s over, the target’s dead, you can relax.”

“You–planned what?”

Persuasion was his only chance. And Yohji did that better without talking. He grabbed the back of that red head and kissed that gorgeous scowl.

Wow. Oh, wow. Aya felt as beautiful as he looked, oh, yum…

“Idiot!” Aya shoved him away, banged him into a closet door. “What the hell are you doing?”

Yohji smiled. He’d felt it. Just for a second, before the shove, Aya had liked it. Yohji ran his tongue along his lips. “It’s called a kiss,” he said low and sexy, the voice that made the fangirls squirm. He prayed it worked on Aya too. Just to help it, he let the jacket sag off one shoulder. Under it he wore a white sleeveless–hee, Aya’s eyes darted to bare skin!

“I know what a kiss is!” The glare pulled reluctantly back to his face. “Why are you doing it to me?”

“Haven’t looked in a mirror lately, have you?” Yohji let the jacket fall, wiggling to do so, since he was still against the wall. He liked the way it angled his body for Aya’s viewing pleasure. And he was looking. He was trying not to, but Fujimiya Aya was looking. Yohji did the tongue thing again. “Knew you’d taste like heaven.”

“Knew you were a fucking idiot.”

Not fucking yet, but he was an idiot who hadn’t been stabbed so far. That was a good sign. Yohji ghosted a hand across his flat, muscular, bare, and oh-so-sexy tummy.

“Come on, hot stuff. Didn’t you ever want to join the Mile-High Club?”

“This–is about the Mile-High Club?”

Something in his grip on his sword, told Yohji that was the wrong answer. He snatched at the lapels of the uniform.

“This,” he said right in that beautiful face, “is about you being so fucking hot I can’t think straight. When you walk in front of me I trip over things because I’m staring at your ass, when I walk in front of you I pray you’re staring at mine. I watered Omi last week because you were cleaning windows in that green top that doesn’t reach your pants. But I’m so damn sure you’d stick your sword through me if I smile too friendly, I can’t say a word. So I came up with this and yeah it was stupid and if you’re going to stab me, do it already, it’s better than me killing us all because I slipped in my own drool and screwed up a mission.” Yohji winced. He hadn’t meant to say that much.

One hand went to the hilt of the katana. Yohji closed his eyes. Ah well. It had been worth a shot, he really didn’t care, at least Aya was too efficient to let him suffer–though Aya did believe in revenge, shit–

Cold steel continued to not stick through him. Yohji opened one eye.

He hadn’t drawn the sword. He stood ready, but he hadn’t done it. Instead he blinked.

“You…think I’m hot?”

Damn, had he lost the redhead all the way back there? “Ayan, you’re the most beautiful man on the planet. You walk through a park and women fall into fountains; men trip over benches. I’ve got the bruises to prove it.”

“And you…think that will screw up a mission?”

Hell. Was Aya going to fuck him as a duty? Kami-sama, the chibi had been right! Ow. That was a hell of a kick to the ego.

Take what you can get, Kudou! It was better than getting him drunk, at least. And maybe with that card to play, he could angle for a repeat performance.

“Guaranteed, Aya.”

The man just stared at him. Ahh, that wonderful awkward moment when the decision was made, it was just the how that still remained to be figured out. Question was, which “how?” How to start fucking Yohji’s brains out? Or how to explain that his katana just “slipped,” after the others noticed Weiss was down to three?

One way to find out. Yohji grabbed the tie and planted another liplock on the gorgeous redhead.

Either he was about to get the fuck of his life, or Aya was willing to let him die happy. The redhead’s lips parted, let him in.

Oh, yesss…Yohji let go of the tie, slid his hands into the jacket and ripped it open. Kami, that chest–hands kept moving, around and down ‘cause–yes! We have ass! Joyous kneading and groping ensued, but damn the pants…

Yohji purred as Aya stepped forward, flattening him against the wall. All sorts of lovely sensations, having that oh-so-hot body plastered over his…the tongue war had moved into his mouth, in Yohji’s book that meant he was winning. And Kami, those graceful hands were all over him–still in the white gloves! Yohji groaned, the gloves, oh god…

He’d lost his before he lost the hat, though, so he felt all the heated glory when he fought his way past all the things pilots were expected to wear. Damn, and he’d thought getting into a stewardess’ uniform was hard…Yohji dove both hands in the back of Aya’s boxers and discovered perfection did exist.

Aya groaned into his mouth. Like that, baby? Yohji squeezed again. Aya planted both hands on Yohji’s chest and pushed, back just enough to stare into Yohji’s face.

Beautiful. Aya’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes alive, his lips wet and parted. Yohji decided instantly he’d do whatever he had to, to see Aya like this again. And again, and again. Now he moved to reclaim those delicious lips, but Aya pushed him away.

“We can’t,” he gasped out. “Omi. Ken. They–“

”–won’t come back here,” Yohji finished with a smug grin. “I told you, I planned this.”

Instantly the dazed look disappeared from Aya’s face. Uh oh. Then he smiled. A wicked, sexy, smile. Yohji worried his face would break.

But oh god, that smile…

“Well, then,” he said, and put one hand to his mouth, to tug the glove off with his teeth. Yohji’s eyes widened. Aya was teasing him! Aya! Teasing! Yohji had to hold on–fortunately he had his hands full–to keep from helping. He wanted to see where Aya would take this.

Tiny little tugs, then the redhead tossed one glove and did the same with the other. He took his comm off and set it carefully on the counter, all the while grinding and writhing between Yohji’s body and his hands, oh god heaven was only a mile up…

Aya let the ripped jacket slide off his shoulders, yanked the tails of the shirt out of his pants and started unbuttoning from the bottom. He stepped back as he did, Yohji followed, bemused by the smile and unable (unwilling) to free his hands anyway.

“So, Yotan,” Aya murmured, “what were you thinking, exactly?” Still backing up.

“Umm…” Okay, no matter how sexy and hot and cooperative he was being, Yohji doubted Aya would react well to the plan “shove the redhead against something and fuck that hot ass till Abyssinian couldn’t walk right for a week.”

“Silly Balinese,” Aya purred, causing Yohji to look for the pod or the control device or something, “you don’t have a plan?”

“Well…”

“Don’t worry,” and Aya’s voice went back to ‘obey or die,’ “I do.” He turned, dragging Yohji with him, and flopped. Yohji gasped as he landed on the drink cart, Aya on top of him. Suddenly the hands that had been stripping Aya, were all over Yohji. He gasped as one dove into his pants. “You idiot,” Aya growled, “I thought this was the one thing you did think about.”

Yohji would have responded, but that was Aya’s hand on his cock and Aya knew what he was doing and Aya– “oohhh–Ahh!–err…mmmnnn…eeee!”

That last was from Aya clamping his teeth on Yohji’s ear, oh god hot breath and Aya was panting, he had Aya out of breath–

Like Yohji had any. He’d quit breathing three gropes ago-oh-ohhhh…tongue, finally, tongue in his ear, on his ear, on his neck–Teeth! “Ay-ann…” he moaned, as those pretty little teeth nibbled his collarbone, and wait a minute, how and when had he–ooh, ooh, yes, the nipple, suck, bite, oh god just hang on–

Yohji barely noticed when his still-clothed legs were draped over Aya’s shoulders, he was too distracted by the hand stroking him off so beautifully, so firm and perfect and–

“AYA!” he shouted, when he felt the touch on his ass. Kami, he loved a surprise, and– “nnrrrr!!!”

“Does that mean you like it, Yotan?” the alien-replacement of Aya purred. That long skilled finger wiggled; Yohji wriggled.

“Aya,” he moaned, “Aya. Come on, gimme more, I can–AYA!”

“Demanding,” Aya growled, one hand pumping Yohji’s cock as the other worked his ass. “Selfish. Lazy.”

“Aya, Aya, Aya,” Yohji chanted, “unnghh, Aya!”

“Noisy,” the redhead said with a breathless grin.

“Ay-annnn…”

“Whiny.”

“Please…” The fingers disappeared, oh, please–

“Sexy,” Aya snarled like it was a curse, and something hot and hard poked at– “Beautiful!” he snapped, and shoved inside.

“AYA!!”

“Sorry,” Aya gasped, and unbelievably lifted Yohji to his chest. Which folded Yohji– “Sorry, didn’t mean–“

”Baka!” Yohji punched said chest lightly. “Move!”

“Yohji–“

”Flexible.” Yohji wrapped his legs around Aya’s neck and flexed. “Fuck. Now.”

“Flexible,” Aya agreed with a grin, and fucked. The cart creaked, Aya grunted, Yohji moaned. Aya pumped as he fucked, little slapping noises underscored their pants.

“More,” Yohji gasped out, just knowing Aya was holding back and–

Aya grabbed Yohji’s hips and stepped back, pulling Yohji with him. On the wheeled cart. Shoved Yohji away, almost too far, yanked back as he slammed forward–

“A-YA!!” Yohji shouted, and bit his lip as the redhead slammed him again. And again. Again, oh god the man knew how to fuck. “Baby, I–unnngg–gonna–gonna–“

”Loud!” Aya snapped, and grapped Yohji’s cock. Yohji gave up and screamed like a girl as he came. Aya grinned and kept fucking, sending Yohji higher, oh holy shit–

Finally the redhead turned his head and moaned into Yohji’s leg as he came. Yohji wished he could have seen all of his face, god, so beautiful…

Ah yes, he thought as Aya stood there, face turned, eyes closed. Time for the awkward after-sex, did I really do that, moment.

But Aya surprised him, he planted a kiss on Yohji’s leg and pulled away gently, offered the blonde a towel to clean up. Yohji took it and sat up with a smile that turned into a wince. Damn, wasn’t gonna be the redhead walking funny for a week.

Worth it. So fucking worth it.

“Are you…all right?” Aya asked, righting his clothes. Yohji sighed as that glorious skin disappeared again.

“A mile beyond fine.”

“Was that…” Aya cleared his throat, moved away to get his jacket, “Was that what you wanted?” he asked in the ‘obey or die’ voice. Yohji chuckled and lit a cigarette.

“Oh yeah.”

***

Something was wrong, Yohji decided when Weiss stood on the tarmac. Ken was staying a good three meters away from him, and jumped every time Yohji spoke. Omi wouldn’t look at him, and if he did manage to catch the chibi’s eye, the boy blushed

Neither was stupid, they had to know what had happened. But he wouldn’t have expected either would mind that much. If anyone were going to be upset, he’d have guessed Aya, when the pissy attitude returned. But so far it hadn’t, Aya was as calm as–well, calmer than Yohji had ever seen him.

“Bombay,” Aya said, and Ken and Omi both jumped. He held out his hand. A sexy white-gloved–

Down, Kudou.

“A-aya-kun, I have to–“

”Not this time.”

“Hai, Fujimiya-san.” Omi dropped a mini-cassette into–

Oh. My. God. Yohji stared at Aya. Who grinned that evil sexy grin.

“For the good of the team, ne, Yohji?” He started walking. Ken darted after him, Yohji caught Omi before he could dodge.

“You guys listened?” He couldn’t believe it. Those hentai little–

“I couldn’t turn it off!” Omi almost wailed, blushing to match Aya’s hair. “I told you he was too smart; he’d know we were up to something! He linked it to the flight software, I didn’t dare mess with it while we were in the air. I couldn’t turn it down or off and my damn laptop analyzed every sound with wavelengths and everything–”

And the poor chibi looked about to cry. Yohji let him go, the boy darted after the others.

Yohji lit a cigarette and followed as best he could, plotting how to get that tape back.

He was dying to hear it.

Oh, god, imagine if Aya kept it to listen to!

***

As usual, Omi saw Manx to the door after the debriefing. She raised an amused eyebrow as they crossed the kitchen.

“I notice none of you mentioned what has Siberian jumping out of his socks tonight.”

“Ken-kun…had a long day. He’s fine.”

“Oh? Does this have anything to do with your mysterious plan to make Abyssinian a better fit with the rest of the team? Because that’s a step in the wrong direction.”

“Ken-kun’s discomfort is temporary. So is Yohji-kun’s. I expect the changes set in motion today will be longer lasting.”

“Balinese didn’t seem unhappy to me. Come to think of it, Abyssinian didn’t have that edge of come-near-me-and-die to him tonight, either.” She caught Omi’s arm and pulled him to face her with a grin. “What did you do?”

“Anything for the team, ne, Manx-san?”