Story:               GOOD POISON

Author:             FancyFigures (fancyfigures@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer:        I don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc

Pairings:           YohjixAya

Category:          Romance, PWP-ish

Warnings:         Yaoi, lemon

Spoilers:           None

Notes:              They’ve escaped with their lives, albeit wounded.  Will they escape each other as successfully?

Feedback:         If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!

 

 

 

 

Yohji woke with the blinding headache that usually signalled the miserable morning after a damn fine night before.  He prided himself that he could take his drink, but occasionally even he over indulged.  And if there’d been clubbing involved – which there so often was – and maybe even a night of hot sex with some girl or guy – which there very often was – he had been known to suffer for it.

 

But something was wrong with that theory.

 

It was the cold.  And the pain.

 

He heard a groan, and thought it was probably his own voice.  He opened an eye, experimentally.  It seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort.  He had trouble seeing anything, as there was only a pale illumination around him – some dim, inadequate glimmer from an overhead strip light.  He was laid out on a velour-covered couch, head propped on a padded cushion, in something that felt like a cheap motel room.  He had a nose for such things.  And that explained the cold, because as he knew so well, those damn places never wasted any of the money they prised out from the reluctant, shaking fingers of their clients on the ‘luxuries’ of life.  Like heat and food and sheets that were any thicker than newspaper.  And never enough hot water for a decent shower!

 

The thought of hot water on his body was temporarily unsettling.  His skin seemed to crawl.

 

The pain was another issue.  He didn’t move at once, because for a second, he wasn’t sure where it was originating.  Or – he dragged the serious sensors to the front of his addled brain – how bad it was.  He’d lurched about before and sprayed blood and plasma around after him, and it was an experience he’d promised himself not to repeat.

 

Shut up with the wisecracks, came his weary inner voice.  Did he so fucking hate that inner voice  It’s the pain from a wound.  Can’t you hear the blood dripping?

 

He held his breath, which was shallow enough already, and he could, indeed, hear the relentless drip on the floor of some liquid or other.  No carpets then, he thought – told you these motels were mean, cheapskate places.  Told you so.  Who are you telling?  He dragged his attention back to the noise.  Too thick for water; too regular for rain. 

 

Shit!

 

He opened the other eye, because this needed attention – soon.  He flexed skilful, nimble fingers, and they seemed OK.  He wriggled toes, and nearly leapt from the couch with the response.  There was something dragging at his leg – his right leg – that felt like an ox sat on it; and an ox that was sitting tight ‘til the coming of Christmas.

 

Groaning, he sat up.

 

Bad move, hissed the voice.  Lie back down.  Sleep it off.  It’ll still be there when you can wake up properly.  But something else was nagging at him.  Some warning – some trickle of fear, tugging insidiously at the sluggish edges of his mind.  He turned his throbbing head.

 

And then he saw the other body, on the floor beside him.

 

Aya.  In a pool of blood.

 

Yohji’s legs worked together, ignoring the pain, ignoring his own wound – they took him off the shabby couch, and down on to his knees on the wooden floor.  He felt his joints crack with the sudden activity, but it was just another damn thing to ignore.  He knelt in the blood; he knelt at Aya’s side.

 

He didn’t have time to investigate the chill that swamped his body.  The nausea in his gut, threatening to spill out around him.  And it wasn’t just a reaction to the pain in his leg.

 

Aya lay there, blood trickling out from behind his head and upper body.  His face was to the side, eyes closed and almost hidden by the sweat and blood soaked hair over his forehead. The dark red locks spattered with a different red.  A more sinister one.

 

There was no movement.

 

*

 

Yohji touched his forehead, gently brushing the fallen hairs back.  It was damp and cold.  Cold, as if the lifeblood had already flowed through him, and far away.

 

No! snapped Yohji’s thoughts.  That’s just not gonna happen!  There were more emotional responses spitting at him, begging to be spoken, but he pushed them impatiently aside.

 

He forced himself to calm the furious thudding of his own heart – else how was he going to hear Aya’s?  He pressed his fingertips to the redhead’s neck.

 

Nothing.

 

Crap! he argued with himself.  Try again!

 

He willed his very breath to stop, to try for silence from his own body.  He could see the skin of Aya’s neck glistening palely in the half-light.  He touched the pulse spot again.

 

And there was the slightest of response.  He was still alive!

 

There was something very suspiciously like the stinging of tears in Yohji’s eyes, but he was able to dismiss it as the remnants of pain and his own unconsciousness.  He let his breath start again – let the awareness of his heartbeat return.  And then so did the pain.  Growling, he fell back to a sitting position, propping himself up against a battered wooden bureau behind him, and tugging Aya’s body as gently as he could, up between his legs.

 

He needed to bind his own wound – to see to Aya’s.  He needed to get help.  Where the fuck were the others?  They were meant to have commandeered a van, then followed up the attack, picking him and Aya up as they retreated from the mission scene.

 

He was struggling to remember the mission at all.  Details were returning – fuzzily; awkwardly.  He was still a little disorientated. There was some drug dealer they’d taken out – Russell someone - yeah, and a few dozen other cronies leeching off him.  They’d not been prepared for such resistance – there’d been so much more of a fight that Yohji’s body still protested internal bruising that he hadn’t yet seen.  But they’d succeeded – he was sure they had, for there were no enemies here now, were there?  And he and Aya were both still alive.

 

Just.

 

Aya’s head was cradled his lap.  Fuck, thought Yohji, a little hysterically, as the dark blood still dripped, that’s the end of this pair of pants.  There were other, less life-threatening issues to struggle with, concerning the weight of Aya’s head on his thighs – the shallow breath at his groin.  A proximity that had never happened before.  Uncomfortable issues, nonetheless.

 

But those would go away, like they usually did.

 

He struggled to release his cell phone from his back pocket, without disturbing the unconscious man below.  Call Ken and Omi – get the damn vehicle here post haste.  Get Aya to a hospital.  Yeah, he was breathing, but what other damage might’ve been done?  He flipped open the case – pressed at the speed dial for the encrypted number they were allocated for this mission.

 

Silence – then a high, piercing crackle.

 

Cursing enthusiastically, he disconnected and dialled again.  Nothing but the same crackle and static.  Damn thing sounded like it was laughing at him!  The movement of the thin, torn drapes at the window caught Yohji’s eye – there was obviously a small crack in the frame, letting in the outside wind.

 

And what a wind!  He’d not registered the background noise, thinking it was part of their own bodies’ noise.  But there was some kind of a storm raging outside – wind, and a dark driving rain.  Thunder growled in the distance.  As he watched, a stab of lightning juddered across the sky, lighting up odd silhouettes of buildings; the occasional chimney.  Then they were plunged back into the wet, weather-beaten darkness again.

 

Yohji’s vocabulary of curses was extensive and entertaining.  Tonight it was exhausted.  He’d never get a signal through all that!  He suspected that it was night time already.  He had no idea where the others might be – even if they were safe.  But if this weather had descended with little or no warning, they may have been forced to take cover somewhere, and been unable to warn him.

 

It was just him and Aya here now.  For the time being.  Until he could find some other way of getting them to safety.  And Aya to some proper care.

 

 

*

 

 

Yohji felt as if he’d lost another couple of hours.  He wondered if he’d drowsed, and mentally slapped himself.  Slowly, he eased himself out from under Aya, and left the other man propped in his place.  Then he peeled open the torn fabric of his pants and examined his wound.  It had been deep, but hadn’t struck through any artery.  Luckily.  It had almost stopped bleeding, as well.  He peered a little closer – it looked like the work of a blade, rather than a gunshot or some other blunt weapon.  The sides of the cut were sharp and clean.  Great, he thought wryly.  Just a scratch, really.  He needed a bandage, and he’d be OK.  It’s only pain, eh?  He looked round the room, assessing what he had to work with.  Just the bureau, the couch and a small, chipped sink against the far wall.  There was an old bed frame, with a mattress barely covered by a thin sheet.  That’d have to do.

 

And then he remembered some more.

 

Oh shit.

 

He knew this room.  He knew where they were.  In fact, he’d likely brought them here himself, deliberately.

 

Like – Aya is so gonna beat my ass up over this…!

 

He rose stiffly, and tugged the sheet from the bed.  A couple of rips, and he had bandages for both of them.  It was a relatively easy matter to bind his own leg.  Then all he had to do was find where Aya’s wounds were worst, and attend to them as well.

 

Yeah… he thought.  That’s all I have to do.

 

He gritted his teeth and knelt back again beside the pale man.  The coat came off as if he were undressing a rag doll.  Then the torn shirt.  And he saw the wounds – the main culprit.  A wide, angry slash across Aya’s side, still oozing fresh blood and glistening with its gleeful power over life.  Aya’s life.

 

“Fuck you!” hissed Yohji, to no-one in particular.  “You ain’t gonna have him, y’hear?”

 

He staggered to the pathetically tiny sink, and began to soak some of the sheeting.  It was gonna take some time to clean Aya and then bandage him up.  The storm still raged outside. 

 

Time was all he had, wasn’t it?

 

 

*

 

 

The night was deep and claustrophobic.

 

Yohji woke with a start, nearly falling from the bare mattress in his shock.  He must have dropped back on the bed to rest, worn out with everything that had happened to them.  Filled with a sudden fear, his head whipped round to check on Aya.

 

He was lying on the couch, still insensible.  Yohji had lifted him there, as carefully as he could, as soon as the bandages were on.  When Yohji lurched over there now, he saw that the blood was no longer seeping through the bandages – things had stabilised.  Aya’s breath was still horribly low, but it seemed more like the breath of a sleeping man, than a comatose one.

 

Thank God...

 

Yohji’s fingers trailed gently against the thin, washed-out cloth across Aya’s chest.  As he’d bandaged, he’d found himself gazing at the small, provocative little nubs of nipple – the thinnest trail of pale red hairs from between them, trickling down towards the navel, and the still, shallow dip there… It was, he thought, a damn fine chest.   Broad shoulders, tapering down to a thin waist.  The muscles were at rest, obviously, but he could watch the definition as Aya slept.  Pale skin – a translucent sheen.  Yohji thought it looked almost artificial.  Even with the scarring on it.  There was plenty of that - and this latest wound wouldn’t exactly win him any top beauty contests.  Like Aya would be bothered about how he looked!  Despite the miserable situation, Yohji grinned to himself. 

 

His fingers hovered over the prone body.   His eyes were drawn to that silky navel again now, seeing it ripple gently with Aya’s breath.  Just checking he was breathing OK.   That’s all he was doing, wasn’t it?  Wishing that the man would make some sign of regaining consciousness.  Give him something to go on.

 

He couldn’t seem to tear his fingers away, and they slid softly to the naked skin below the bandage.  Just above Aya’s groin.  Yohji prodded – so very gently – at the occasional spot of blood that he hadn’t been able to clear.  Dark red markings on the pale, smooth flesh.

 

The word that sprang to Yohji’s exhausted, highly-strung mind was ‘tasty’.  He shook his head, trying to clear the tugs of lust that had sprung up from somewhere he couldn’t imagine.  OK - he supposed he could imagine!  But he didn’t want to.

 

There had been a strange mix of emotions welling up in him, as he worked on Aya’s damaged body in the half-light.  Ripping fabric; running the pathetic trickle of water in the sink.  There was fear that the wound was beyond his first aid abilities.  Irrational anger that he’d somehow failed to protect them both.  Then more rational anger that the completion of the mission plan had fallen so spectacularly to pieces.

 

And there’d been a great deal of pleasure, too, in being able to touch Aya’s flesh, firmly, possessively - and with the unchallenged liberty that the conscious man would never have allowed him.

 

Yohji stared at his fingertips.  Remembered the tingle of them as he stroked cool skin.  He felt nauseous again.  It was being in this damn room, that was all.  The memories here were of lust and laughter, and unrestrained, unambiguous physical pleasure.  Fabulous, freewheeling, frivolous fucking – just as he liked it…!

 

His confusion had nothing to do with the man on the couch at his side, of course.  The man who – even with his deathly pale face and his wounded body – was the most beautiful, inexplicable creature Yohji had ever seen.  Nah…

 

The strip light was starting to buzz, dejectedly, above them.  God knows how much life it had left in it.  With a sigh, he flipped it off, and they were plunged into the true darkness.

 

 

*

 

Aya woke an hour later.

 

Yohji was drowsing again, and woke to the sound of a yell ringing out through the darkened room.  The rain was still hammering – there were no lights outside now, suggesting the storm had caused some kind of a power cut.  For a second he couldn’t think where he was – he was terrified.

 

Then he recognised the yell as Aya’s voice.  Angry – in pain – possibly even frightened.

 

He was at his side in another second, pressing at the man’s arms as he struggled to get up.

 

“Get the fuck off!” yelled Aya.  “You bastards – we won’t – so we’ll take you all - leave him alone -!“

 

“Hush, hush –“ hissed Yohji.  “You listening to me, Aya?  Dammit – shut up – wait –” He had no idea who else might be in this damn motel, but they sure weren’t gonna appreciate this kinda racket.

 

They didn’t.

 

There was the sound of footsteps thumping up the stairs – the slam of a door at the back of the building.  Some kind of roaring obscenity from up the corridor.  Yohji cursed.  There was a hammering at the door.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Black!  Who you got in there?  You wanna find yourself back out in this godforsaken shit of a storm you’re goin’ about it the right fuckin’ way -!”

 

Yohji leant towards the door, ready to put his depleted strength against it if someone tried to come in.

 

“OK, OK, keep your fucking hair on, you fat git!” he yelled in reply.  “You’re gonna explode if you rack that blood pressure up any further, y’know?  He’s just upset in here – just a nightmare –“

 

There was a dissatisfied grumble from outside, up the corridor.  But the footsteps had stopped.  When they restarted, a few seconds later, they were shuffling back off away from their room.  The voice continued grumbling as it went.  “Whatever, you lousy, lying little shit…you ain’t comin’ here again, whatever money shit you flash at me, y’hear?  We don’t wanna hear your damn skinny ass fucking all night…” More grumbling, but it was getting even more distant, until the parting shot.  “And keep your damn bitch quiet, y’hear?”

 

“I hear, all right,” hissed Yohji.  He risked a look back at Aya.  Aya was still shaking, but he’d sunk back on to the couch again.  His head was turned towards Yohji, and his eyes were bright and fierce in the darkness.  Yohji couldn’t tell if they were focussed on him or not.  Then they closed and Aya passed out again.

 

Yohji let out his ragged breath.  “Yeah…” he sighed.  “I hear.” 

 

*

 

Yohji stayed awake for the rest of the night, but Aya only stirred once more.

 

It was sudden – his voice came out of the darkness, dry and cracked.  Hesitant.

 

“Yohji?”

 

Yohji lurched up on the bed to see the other man standing in front of the couch.  His heart hammered.  Jesus, he shouldn’t be up so soon!  Yohji marvelled at the will and strength it must have taken him to raise himself.  He should’ve expected it, of course.  “Yeah -?” 

 

“Where are the others?”

 

“Can’t contact them,” Yohji stammered.  “Y’know?  The weather’s so bad they’ll have gone back to base, I guess.  They’ll be back when the storm dies down, looking for us.”

 

Aya’s eyes turned to him again, and they said, as clearly as if he’d spoken, Yeah, right.  With added contempt.

 

“No-one’s out there looking for us, you fool,” he said, in the harsh tone that Yohji recognised as more usual.  “We must move ourselves out, now.”

 

“We can’t yet,” Yohji snapped back.  Damn man, telling him what to do!  “You can’t move yet and I’m damn sure I’m not carrying you!  We’re trapped for tonight at least.  Get some rest, for God’s sake, your injuries were real bad.”

 

Aya ignored him.  “How did I get here?””

 

Yohji thought a shrug was safest, in the circumstances.

 

Aya stared at him.  Then he winced, as a spasm of pain obviously racked him.  He lifted a thin-fingered hand and touched softly at the bandages, as if realising they were there for the first time.  Feeling for how he was.  Yohji had half risen from the bed, but paused.  Aya wouldn’t want any fuss, he knew that.  Would probably slice his hand off if he tried to touch his dressing while he was awake.  He couldn’t help a sigh escaping.

 

Aya still stared, but there was a flicker of something in his cold eyes.  “Your work?”

 

“Yeah,” replied Yohji, dryly.

 

“It’s good work,” said Aya.

 

And as Yohji gaped at this unexpected praise, Aya bowed his head, gently, and fell back to the couch as if he’d been folded down like a piece of paper.

 

He’d passed out again.

 

*

 

Yohji lay on the bed as the dawn started to lick at the sky, and the storm was easing.  Aya’s breath was rasping in the background.

 

He hadn’t been mistaken – he’d heard footsteps in the corridor, again.  There had been a thin shadow over the fissure of light under their door.  Then it had faded away.  If he hadn’t been awake, and every nerve straining to keep alert, he’d never have seen or heard anything.

 

Someone was watching.  Listening.  Reporting back, maybe.

 

To whom? he wondered.  And why?  Not for the first time, he questioned whether he should have used the same pseudonym as last time he was here.

 

It was known, perhaps, too well.

 

 

*

 

 

It was late morning.  Yohji sidled back into the room, having snatched a couple of sorry, crinkled sandwiches from the counter downstairs, and a couple of bottles of water.   Anything more than that for breakfast, and he’d have to leave the building.  And – for various reasons – he wasn’t sure that was an option at the moment.

 

Aya was awake, but he wasn’t standing yet.  His face was very pale, but there were spots of colour high on his cheeks.  His lips were slightly damp.

 

“The mission?” he said, straight away.  “Russell?”

 

“Yeah, like, good morning to you too,” grumbled Yohji.  “It was OK – we got ‘em all.  But we both got injured, obviously, and with the storm coming down, we all had to take cover best we could.”

 

“The storm will ease soon.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“We can move out then.”

 

“Yeah.”  Yohji was distracted.  He stood, hands full of the pathetic refreshments he was going to offer to Aya, and his eyes ranged over the scene.  Aya, sitting up, glaring; watching him.  Half naked.  Blood stains on the floor, dried and darkly red.  Katana propped up by his side.  He’d moved it from the far side of the room, where Yohji kicked it in the night.

 

“You brought me here.”  It was a statement, not a question.  He remembered, perhaps.

 

“Yeah.”  Great conversation I’m making, thought Yohji.  I’m gonna dazzle with this repertoire…

 

“You know this place… they know you here.”

 

“I used it once when I was undercover, for that mission with the Donnelly drug cartel last year.  And when we traced our guy Russell here this time, I remembered I had this hideout nearby.”  Yohji thought it sounded quite plausible.  “We needed somewhere close – you were in no state to travel far…”

 

Aya was silent.

 

Yohji hated himself, falling into the trap, but he tried to fill the silence.  “I came here a coupla times since the cartel thing.  Used the same false name, don’t worry.”

 

“That mission was long over.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But you came here again.”

 

“Said so, didn’t I?”  What was this, he didn’t have to justify everything he did outside of a mission, did he?  “It’s a good place to lose yourself.  To be among trash like that.  When they think you’re one of ‘em.  And extra info is always useful.”

 

“You mean an extra piece of ass.”

 

“What?” Yohji was shocked.  Aya’s expression was tight and harsh.

 

“That guy last night, at the door – he knew you.”

 

Shit, he’d been conscious after all… 

 

“He told you to keep your damn bitch quiet.”  In Aya’s steely voice, the words were clipped and ugly.

 

“Ahh – now wait a damn minute – he didn’t know you - “

 

“He knew you.  In the past - you brought company here.  Is that what you’d call it?  That’s why you kept coming here.”

 

He was right, of course.  Yohji sighed.  There were few places he could go when he wanted to be away from them all – from the work.  Far from the reminders – the relentless tension.  And he knew what would always relieve that tension.  Guaranteed.  Casual, uninhibited sex… So what was wrong with that?

 

“Yeah, I guess I have.  It’s cheap – it’s anonymous.  It’s just for fun…”

 

“In the middle of the enemy’s territory, you bring your conquests for a quick screw!”

 

Yohji stared at Aya’s outrage.  “Like you’re bothered?”

 

“Girls?”

 

“And guys!” snapped Yohji.  He just didn’t discuss his love life in detail with anyone!  Everyone knew it was plentiful, it was regular, it was eagerly pursued – they didn’t need to know who, when and where, for Christ’s sake!

 

Aya flushed at that.  Yeah, like you didn’t know I like ‘em all… thought Yohji, angrily.  Angry with himself, for feeling defensive.  Dirty, somehow.  And angry at letting Aya make him feel that way.

 

He threw the sandwiches down and stalked out to the mean little toilet on the landing.  The door slammed behind him.  Christ, he needed a smoke!

 

 

*

 

 

When he came back, Aya had drunk some water and chewed at half a sandwich.  Yohji had calmed down, though he’d not found any cigarettes anywhere.  He investigated the other half of the sandwich and agreed with Aya’s implicit conclusion that either the filling had been dead for a coupla centuries, or else it had never lived in this universe in the first place.  He sighed, and peeled the stale bread off to eat.

 

“You dragged me out didn’t you?” came the redhead’s low query.  “From Russell’s headquarters.  That’s – that’s the last I remember.  That room full of guys, that we never expected.  I saw – you fall.  I was distracted.  One of them turned the katana on me…”

 

“My fault as always.” Yohji chewed on the bread as well as his sarcastic words.  “Can’t see why you’d ever choose me on a mission with you, eh?”

 

“You should have left me,” growled Aya.

 

Yohji sighed.  He’d anticipated this conversation, playing it out in the long hours overnight.

 

“You should have left me, gone for help.  No – you should have escaped yourself, and left me behind.”

 

“Yeah… whatever.”  Yohji felt surprisingly languid this morning.  Musta been the blood he lost.

 

“You disobeyed the rules!” snapped Aya.  The loss of blood didn’t seem to slow him down a whole lot.

 

“There’s a surprise!” pitched Yohji’s terse reply. “Can’t say I was thinking at my most objective at the time.  One of Donnelly’s gorillas took great delight in smashing out at one of my knees, else I’d never have been brought down.  Then there was a swipe at my leg that ruined a damn fine pair of pants and sliced a coupla sandwich fillings out of my precious flesh.  Now I think about it, it was probably your damn blade that did the damage!”

 

Aya’s mouth opened in anger, then closed again.  He looked down at Yohji’s leg, at the makeshift bandage strapped round it.

 

“No, please, I’ll be OK,” mocked Yohji.  “Hold the tears and concerns!  Just glad you got the damn sword back, so that you can slice out the other one for me…”

 

Aya shook his head, impatiently.  “You’ve brought us right into the heart of their turf, Yohji.  We’re isolated, and we’re wounded.  The word will be out on the streets now as to what we did, taking out Russell’s group.  Descriptions of us, maybe.  We’re in as much danger now as we were then – and a whole lot less prepared!”

 

 

 

*

 

 

Aya watched as Yohji leant against the side of the window frame, trying to assess the situation outside.  Why did the man make him so fucking angry all the time?  Because he’s flippant and aggressive and uncontrollable, he answered himself.  He wanted to say it was because Yohji was careless, or incompetent, but his integrity refused to let him lie.  Yohji was a damn good agent.  He didn’t operate the way that he, Aya, did.  He didn’t demonstrate the same self-control, the same discretion – dammit, the evidence was there before him, as he stood in Yohji’s own personal brothel! – but the results were as good.

 

He felt weak from the effects of his wound, and disorientated.  He wasn’t as in control of their situation as he’d like to have been.  Whatever he said to Yohji, this was obviously the other man’s territory, rather than his, and he felt the insecurity keenly.

 

And then there was Yohji’s whole physical presence, whenever they worked together.  He had no idea of the concept of personal space – no care for Aya’s own need for a certain distance between himself and his fellow operatives.  When he was angry with Aya, he argued loudly and enthusiastically.  Aya couldn’t understand, nor compete with his sharp, dry wit.  And when he was elated, he slapped shoulders and laughed too loudly, and once he’d even hugged Aya’s whole body.

 

The brothel business nagged at Aya, as well.  He felt uneasy in this room.  His concern was well out of proportion, though – after all, the man was entitled to whatever entertainment he wanted outside of work, wasn’t he?  However distasteful.

 

He still watched Yohji, surreptitiously.  He wondered if the infuriating blond knew how often he’d drifted back to consciousness during the night.  How he’d kept silent, despite his own pain, and just watched Yohji sleeping; restlessly, sorely – but all of it with the same lazy elegance that he brought to his waking movements as well.  He stood, now, at the window, his long, lean body pressed against the wall, his soft blond hair brushed back impatiently behind his ears; his supple hands peeling the flimsy fabric of the drapes back to look out.  Every movement was an event to Yohji; a statement of who he was, of his existence in the real world, and his need to be noticed there.  His right to be.

 

Yohji’s voice broke into this reverie, and Aya was never so glad for his escape from further introspection.

 

“You’re not gonna like this, buddy, but they’re watching the building.”

 

Aya struggled up and moved towards the window himself.  The rain was still driving down, though the wind had dropped, so that it fell down on to the gutters of the street below, already overflowing.  There were tree branches down, and hardly any lights on in the houses around, implying that the power had not yet been restored.  Dustbins lay on their side; a gate across the way hung off its hinges.  There was no traffic.  Everything was dull and grey.

 

Except for the sudden flash of light in an upstairs window in the apartment across from the motel.

 

Aya saw it.  Yohji knew that Aya saw it.  They stared over, but there was nothing else to be seen in the dark and the rain.  The house yielded no clues in itself.

 

“Was your cover blown after last year’s mission?”  Yohji noticed he had lowered his tone, like he was cautious of being overheard.  Had he registered the watcher in the corridor last night as well?

 

Yohji smiled what he always believed was his modest smile.  “I don’t think so.  Damn fine actor, aren’t I?  As far as they were concerned, I was just one of the contract guys they used when they needed extra muscle – even when we ambushed ‘em, I was well out of the picture.  They never connected me with the agents that took ’em out.”

 

Aya continued to stare at the building opposite.

 

Yohji sighed.  What was it with this guy, that he didn’t need to speak to get his answers?  “Well, OK, so there was one guy, he never seemed to trust me, never left me alone with Donnelly, not while he was around.  Damn great smelly ape, used to grope me whenever he could.  Part of my cover story, y’know?  That I was always up for a quick fuck.  He wanted my ass, that’s for sure, but I told him to go beat himself instead…”

 

Aya raised an eyebrow.  Yohji saw that as well.

 

“Christ, I can do that, y’know!  Turn ‘em down!  My tastes are broad, but they’re not fucking boundless!  He watched me ever after, though… and when we wrapped the whole damn pile of shit up, I don’t remember him being brought in with the others.”

 

“Did he ever suspect you were an agent?  Part of Weiss?  He may have found his way on to Russell’s payroll, afterwards – may still be active now, and on the loose.  He’s lived through involvement with two gangs – two Weiss assignments.  If he saw us arriving this time, he might make the connection.  Is he watching us?  You?”

 

“Quit with the inquisition, Aya!”

 

“You dragged us in here, Yohji, and now we find it’s even worse than we thought –“

 

“Christ, man, you may have taken a beating, but your damn mouth is as sharp as ever -!”

 

Yohji turned suddenly, angry again.  He hadn’t realised that Aya was so close to him.  Of a similar height, they found themselves nose to nose, fierce eyes to fierce eyes.  Aya’s broad shoulders squared off against Yohji’s slimmer ones; Yohji had a hand raised, as if to push out at Aya, and the fingers hovered inches from the other man’s chest.  Their breaths shared the air between them, charged with the tension.

 

They were frozen with something like shock, for several seconds.

 

Yohji couldn’t help the thoughts that suddenly swamped his mind; he imagined leaning forward over that miniscule fraction of space, and pressing his lips against Aya’s.  He couldn’t believe the overwhelming desire he felt, to do just that.  To feel that tight, moist skin against his.  To lick at the edges of that unforgiving mouth; to probe gently at the pursed entrance, demanding to be let in.  To take hold of that thin, pale face, feel the sweat on that tortured flesh… to run his fingers through the thick, red hair…

 

Aya hesitated.  Yet another thing that Yohji saw.  He couldn’t remember many examples of Aya’s uncertainty – if any.  He himself was a man who took opportunities where they arose – who didn’t hesitate when he wanted something.

 

He took this opportunity, pretty much knowing he’d regret it.  He inclined his head, let his hand settle on Aya’s chest, and he kissed him.

 

 

*

 

 

He felt Aya’s breath catch with further shock.  He felt the lips part instinctively, and he slid his tongue softly over the rosy pads, teasing at the teeth within.  He pressed harder – hungrily – prising his mouth open further.  Aya tasted of anger and cold water and blood – and, unmistakeably, of Aya the man.  It was fucking gorgeous… Yohji’s hand had slipped to Aya’s waist now, and his other hand snaked behind his neck, tugging him nearer.  He felt his erection nudging at his pants.  He didn’t think he’d ever wanted a kiss so much – to savour a mouth like this, to anticipate the pleasure it could give and receive…

 

Then Aya slapped him, hard.  Not from shock, like a scandalised girl – but with a fully effective strike, delivered by a furious, professionally trained killer.  Repelling an enemy’s attack.

 

“Yo!”  Yohji gasped, wrenching his mouth away, feeling Aya’s soft skin catch under his teeth.  His jaw ached immediately, jarred by the blow.  His mouth was full of Aya’s taste, his saliva already working, begging for more.  His nostrils were full of the man’s smell, his fingertips aching to run over the skin underneath him, to touch, to appreciate, to possess…

 

“Don’t you fucking dare!  I - don’t – need - that!” snapped Aya.  His voice sounded a little hoarse.  Yohji tried to estimate the time it would take for him to reach his sword and return to kill him.  He failed.  He decided it’d be quicker – and probably a more humane end – to turn and jump out of the window instead.

 

“It was damn fine…” sighed Yohji, rubbing his sore chin.

 

“Is there nothing else for you?” hissed Aya.  “Always trying to get into someone’s pants?”

 

“Like you’ve never thought of it?” countered Yohji.  He had nothing to lose.  And the guy hadn’t spiked him yet.  He felt Aya trembling with anger, still only inches away.  He hadn’t drawn back – that was a surprise.  Never wanted it, Aya? he thought to himself.  Never thought what it’d be like with me? Are you thinking it now?

 

“I need it, man – it’s my counterpoint, to the tension of a mission.  My release – my purest, cleanest pleasure.  Physical satisfaction, to give and to take.”  He saw Aya looking uncharacteristically confused – it was a delicious expression, on such a self-controlled guy.  “You should try it!  After all, what release have you got, eh?  What’s your poison?  ‘Cos that’s what it is to you, isn’t it?  Relationships…contact.  You think it’s all a poison –“

 

“Shut the fuck up!”  Aya’s glare fired heat on to Yohji’s face – his teeth were bared as if he snarled like a wolf.

 

“I rest my case,” growled Yohji.  Yeah, he was scared that he’d provoked such a strong response in his normally icy-calm colleague.  But not as scared as he was excited…

 

 

*

 

 

There was another flash from across the street and they froze again.

 

“Dammit!” cursed Yohji.  “They’ve seen us now – they are watching us.”  It was the end, perhaps, of his assumed anonymity here.  The end of another illusion of his own place, his own time…  “If they find out we’re agents, then we’re in the shit.  I don’t know how many others we may have missed first time round – what sorta backup the Ape will have gathered round him.”

 

“We must get away from the window – we must go –“ began Aya.

 

“No!” Yohji barked the word, and his voice was low and firm.  “Stay there!”  Aya was silenced despite himself.  “We don’t know when the others will get back – we need their support to get out of here now.  We’re gonna have to keep ‘em guessing across there.  Play the game instead…”

 

“Game?  What the hell are you talking about?”  Aya tried again to move away, but Yohji’s hand was gripping him now, holding him back.  They stood together, fully framed for anyone to see.

 

“They still think I’m a lowlife dog, Aya – just a hound who crawls around in the slime like they do, and gets his kicks in the bedroom.  They shouldn’t think I’m anything more serious than that – for now.  You play my bitch, as they expect, and we might keep ‘em of that mind a little longer.  Give us time to work our way outta here.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting –“

 

“Yes you do,” hissed Yohji.  “What d’you think they just saw?  Us eating each other – groping each other.  Making out.  Taking advantage of this seedy, secret little room –“

 

“Like you have in the past –“

 

“Yeah.”  Aya’s disgust hurt him, but he didn’t have time for hurt.  “We’ll just play along with that and they’ll ease off –“

 

“We will not!” came Aya’s fury.  “What the hell -!”

 

The wire from Yohji’s wrist was a soft hiss in the room, and a cruel, threatening click as it locked against his throat.  Aya gasped.  In those few seconds, Yohji had moved half behind him, tight against his back.  Trapping him; turning his body to face out of the window.  Holding him with a combination of the strong hand at his waist and the killing wire at his throat.

 

His voice was low and harsh in Aya’s ear.  “I don’t have time to argue with you, Aya.  You don’t have time.  Neither of us does, if they think I’m something else than some greedy pimp.  Right?”

 

“Let me go…”

 

“No. “

 

“I’ll kill you.”

 

“Yeah, daresay you will.  But not before I’ve tried to save our sorry asses from whoever’s out there.  And you can act out along with me, or you can stand there like a reluctant virgin – either way I’m gonna give ‘em what they want to see.”

 

He felt Aya’s heart beating fast against his chest.  Was worried suddenly about the effect on him, when he was so badly injured.  Christ, the man knew he wouldn’t really slit his throat, didn’t he?  Or else, he thought he did…

 

There was the slightest relaxation in Aya’s body.  “I – see your argument, Yohji.  I won’t kill you.  Let me go now.”

 

“Nah…” Yohji sighed.  Like he was gonna believe Aya was rational about not killing him!  He wouldn’t be turning his back for a coupla months after this!  He put his face closer to Aya’s neck.  He couldn’t see the whole of the other man’s face now, but he could feel the throbbing pulse in his neck.  He could see the slight sheen of sweat on his cheek, and it looked like it’d be warm and salty.  He licked at it - yeah, it was!  He felt Aya tense up again, obviously conscious of his sudden vulnerability.  Yohji felt an answering leap of excitement.  He nuzzled against his neck, and lapped gently at the lobe of his ear.

 

“Yohji, for fuck’s sake…”

 

“Hush.  Act up to it, Aya.”

 

“You’re – enjoying it –“

 

“Praps you will, too, man…” Yohji’s smile was warm on his skin, and Aya felt an irresistible flush spread over his neck and chest.  He was still conscious of the thin, murderous wire against his throat, but he was also becoming very aware of the man’s body behind him.  He felt the pressure of Yohji’s fingers on his bare waist, and was – alarmed? resigned? -  to feel a stirring response in his groin.  Yohji’s lips had been hot and hard on his mouth, before he’d pushed him away – they were softer now; they were amazingly seductive on his neck and ear, and he felt the ache in his tired limbs as trails of instinctive pleasure trickled out along them.

 

 

*

 

 

Yohji was having great difficulty holding on to the wire.  He knew he didn’t have Aya’s co-operation yet, so he didn’t dare release him.  Fuck – he also knew it was giving an even better show for the guys watching ‘em!  But the proximity of this gorgeous man, and the thrill of him being – albeit temporarily – under his control, was a heady, exotic thing.  His nibbling of Aya’s ear was delicious, and he felt Aya’s head shifting gently towards him, as much as it could move under its restraint.  He broke from his aural snack, and moved the other man’s shoulders around slightly, to bring his face towards him.

 

“Gonna kiss you again, Aya,” he murmured.  “You slap me like you did before and I won’t be able to control the cord – it’ll snap your neck like a flower stem.  You got that straight?”

 

Aya’s response was only a grunt.  But Yohji saw his tongue slip out a little, and lick around his lips.  You provocative bastard… he groaned to himself.  D’you know how erotic that is?

 

He kissed him again – a little more gently this time.  Perhaps he, too, was worried about the reaction in his wire hand.  But his tongue pressed in quickly, and urgently, and Aya felt the strange, alien taste of another man’s mouth.  Another man’s passion.  There was no disguising it – there was way too much enthusiasm involved.  Yohji was enjoying this.   A lot.

 

Aya could see no option but to relax into it.  That was what he told himself, as he opened his mouth and sucked on Yohji’s fierce tongue.  As he felt Yohji’s free hand clutch at his waist, and the fingertips trace across the band of his pants.  As he felt his heart race with the erotic combination of impotent fury and his burgeoning, yet indisputable desire.  They were face to face, though Yohji still stood a little to the side and behind him; his legs were pressed tight against the back of Aya’s thighs, and Aya felt the heat flaring between the other man’s legs.  No!  He would refuse to acknowledge the messages from his own groin.  It had been a long time since he’d done so – a damn long time…

 

He smells of blood, thought Yohji.  His hand was relaxing, and he knew that soon Aya would be able to slip out from the wire.  Wondered how far he could get before that happened.  Always blood… I didn’t do a good enough job of cleaning him up… His mind swung to more entertaining thoughts of licking the final stains from Aya’s body.  Licking it all… Would everything taste of blood? he mused. Will he taste of death?  Will he ever taste like mine?

 

He rubbed his swelling cock up against Aya’s ass, and felt the teasing, agonising, friction of the two sets of cloth between them.  He thought of the cool, pale flesh beneath them, and imagined his hot, greedy cock up between the cheeks.  He almost sobbed with the pain of the desire.  Guess the threat of imminent death turns me on… guess I like lusting after a guy who’s gonna rip my dick off when he gets his freedom back…

 

Aya felt weaker than ever.  He was vibrantly aware of Yohji’s needy cock, like there was no cloth surrounding it at all.  The pressure up against his ass was burning, and moved as provocatively against his body as if it were already penetrated deep into his flesh.  His nerves throbbed – his skin crawled.  He was unable to evaluate these feelings – he had no idea if he welcomed them or not.  They were too consuming… He leant back into Yohji’s chest, surprising himself with his eagerness.  His head came up against the blond man’s neck, and he turned willingly to take the probing, hungry kisses.

 

“Aya… fuck…so good…

 

“Don’t enjoy it so much…” hissed Aya, his voice muffled as his own tongue struck back into Yohji’s mouth.

 

“You mean you’re not …”

 

“We’re acting, right?”

 

“Yeah…” whispered Yohji.  He couldn’t manage many other words.  He rather thought he might come in his pants if he kept on rubbing like this.  “Whatever turns you on, use it… you are doing that, aren’t you?”

 

Aya’s kiss was hard in response, and he bit at Yohji’s lower lip, drawing the other man’s blood into his mouth.

 

“What are you thinking, Aya?” the blond groaned.  “What sweet little thoughts are turning you on?”

 

“Hush…” And to Yohji’s astonishment, Aya’s hand closed over his partner’s free hand, and dragged it to his groin.  He pressed it against himself, and drew in a breath of shock. 

 

*

 

 

Yohji felt the bulge there – there was never much scope in Aya’s clothes to hide any shape – he wore ‘em tight, and he was always so damn slim.  God… He felt near fully erect, and he felt big! Yohji’s heart paused, and his throat swallowed of its own accord.  He remembered his personal mantra about taking opportunities quickly and eagerly.  His fingers fumbled for only a second, and then they found the fastening to Aya’s pants and slipped the button.  A quick shove to the fabric, and his hand found hair and skin that was naked – no underwear!  The thrill was immediate.  His palm was sweaty, but it searched for its objective and fastened unerringly around a thick, hot, damp cock.  Fingers just met round it...  Never thought you were built so well, babe… thought Yohji, before the lust and excitement began to overcome him.  He began to pump, firmly.  Somehow he reckoned that the foreplay was over now, right?  Aya was pressed tightly back into him, his legs spreading slightly, instinctively – allowing Yohji the best purchase he could get, when he was still standing behind him.   His hips were jutting gently out, as if they pumped into Yohji’s hands, mimicking the other man’s movement.

 

Yesss…”

 

Yohji thought he’d heard Aya’s whisper, but he wouldn’t have sworn to it.  And it lost him his last thread of dominance.  He reached both hands to touch at Aya’s flesh, and the wire dropped harmlessly to the floor at Aya’s feet.  But neither of them moved from their exposed position at the window.  Neither could breathe normally – neither could think straight.

 

Yohji leaned back against the window frame, gasping.  Again and again, his hips ground up against Aya’s ass, and the cloth of his pants scraped up and down his begging shaft, tugging it towards ecstasy.  His hands clutched around Aya’s cock, and felt the welcoming warmth of its pulsing.  The pre-cum dripped on to his fingers, helping him to slip easily up and down the thick organ.  He felt the foreskin stretch and wrinkle back as he pumped; he felt the tickle of the pubic hairs on his wrist.  He stretched one hand down to massage the swelling balls, and he felt Aya gasp at the additional stimulation.

 

“You close, Aya?” he gasped in return. 

 

Silence, except for their harsh breathing, and the creaks of the window frame as they jerked against it.

 

Yohji felt his mind unravelling slowly, but steadily.  He couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited – but he’d think about how fucking sad that was at a later date.  Aya’s dark red hair was crushed in the crook of his shoulder, a soft cushion against his ear.  His profile was close to Yohji’s face; he was gorgeous, his looks were striking in a way that he’d never acknowledge.  His mouth was tight now, the lower lip caught under white teeth.  He was concentrating on the rising tide of pleasure.

 

Yohji watched it all, drinking it in.  Thrilled beyond any description that he could raise.  He heard the increasing shortness of breath in both of them, as desire escalated.  His hand squeezed tightly at Aya’s incredible cock, teasing at the tendon under the thick knob of the head, absorbing every shudder along its vein into his encouraging, eager palm.  Again and again he caressed it – cruelly, almost harshly, jolting Aya’s whole body along with the movement.  Lifting the flesh high and proud, out of the front of his pants, out into the air for anyone to see.  His strong, narrow hand was gonna bring off this magnificent, moody man, and the pumping of another guy’s cock was never, ever gonna be quite the same for him again!

 

Shit, babe, I can’t hold it – “ The excitement was too much for him.  He began to shudder, slamming harder against Aya’s back, his hand becoming fiercer and more erratic on Aya’s cock.  He squeezed at Aya’s balls, mirroring the answering tightness in his own.  A whole bunch of ecstasies was gathering inside him, and they were plunging down from every point in his body, and they were all homing in on his thumping, cloth-tangled cock.  They were not gonna listen to any shred of self-control he may still have left…he was gonna give in, and he didn’t care who knew it, or watched it -!

 

“Come for me, Aya!  Come with me -!”

 

Aya groaned, like he was fighting the battle, but the war had already been conceded.   Yohji felt his cock swell even more in his hand, and his balls lift in anticipation.  With a deep, guttural release of breath, Aya jerked himself hard against Yohji’s grasp, and he came, cum spurting out in hot, thick streams, bathing Yohji’s hands.  He gave nothing but a desperate whisper, but it may have been “Yohji…”

 

With his own answering cry, Yohji willingly surrendered to his pet ecstasies, and let his climax rip through him, swamping his senses.  The two men clutched tightly at each other, eyes closed and mouths open, gasping as they bucked together.  Aya gripped the window frame beside Yohji for support – Yohji clutched at Aya’s groin and hip, and felt the warm stickiness of cum soaking his pants as it pumped out of him with his relief.

 

The rain continued to drive down outside, and the house across the street was as silent and shrouded as before.

 

 

*

 

 

Finally, Aya found his voice.  “Do you think they’re convinced now?”

 

Yohji gave a hoarse chuckle.  He shifted awkwardly, feeling the cooling mess on his groin, the slight trickle on his thigh.  Aya was a heavy, but pleasurable weight against his chest.  “If they were watching that, I think they all just creamed their pants, regardless of their own preferences…”

 

“So take your damn hand out of mine –“ came the hissed reply.

 

“Don’t want to…” sighed Yohji.  His hand still held Aya’s cock, now gently subsiding; his fingers stuck together with a further mess of gluey cum.  It was bliss…

 

“Yohji…”

 

“Yeah?”  He was waiting for the blow to fall – for Aya’s anger to flare, but for the moment he just couldn’t give a fuck.  He was exhausted with excitement; sated with pleasure.

 

“I don’t want you to, either…”

 

Silence between them – Yohji was more than a little in shock.

 

“Yohji…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I - can’t stand –“

 

Shit!  Yohji felt Aya’s body start to slump back against him.  What the fuck was he doing?  The man was seriously injured, for God’s sake!  And here he was, playing with his cock like he was some cheap date -

 

He caught Aya just as he passed out, and carried him to the bed.

 

 

*

 

 

Our second day in this shitty room, thought Yohji, and look what’s happened in those amazingly few hours!  He stood, leant back against the bureau, propping himself up.  He looked the picture of ease; long, lean body relaxed, legs crossed at the ankles, occasionally stretching and popping the stiffening joints in his hands and fingers.  He toyed with the final bottle of water, and watched Aya sleep. 

 

He’d have laughed aloud at anyone who described him as relaxed.  He was as tense as the wire he carried.  The one that had captured and manipulated Aya just hours before.

 

What the fuck had that all been about?

 

The afternoon drifted to early dusk, and Yohji flipped on the light, deciding it was better to put up with the occasional flicker and the annoying buzz, than it was to try to monitor Aya’s condition in the dark. 

 

Aya regained consciousness a while later.  Yohji still stood at the bureau.  He peered carefully at the stirring man – in a medical capacity, y’know – and thought he looked refreshed from his sleep.  Or perhaps it was from a damn good orgasm…

 

He sighed, unsure how to be with him now.

 

“Yohji…”

 

“Yeah?”  Is this some kinda broken record? he chided himself.  Aya was no conversationalist, sure, but his own perpetual response seemed to consist of nothing but ‘yeah’.

 

“Do you ever do what you’re damn well told?”

 

“Nah!” Yohji grinned.  “Not if I don’t choose.  Look – Aya – the window thing -“

 

“No,” said Aya, firmly.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Fuck…

 

“Has there been any movement from across the way?”

 

“Nah… I guess they’re not worrying about us just at the moment.  I reckon we might get away with this whole thing, after all.  And I took a call from the guys – they’re coming to pick us up at midnight.  I was right, they took cover during the storm, a fallen tree blocked the road and they couldn’t get through.   But the rain’s easing now, y’hear?  So – we’ll be outta here soon enough.  Get you to a hospital…”

 

“I’m OK –“

 

“Yeah, right!  OK, s’long as you don’t have some animal yanking you so hard you pass out –“

 

“I’m OK,” said Aya, and something about the tone of his voice made Yohji stop in his flippancy.

 

“Look, Aya – we distracted ‘em like I hoped, right?  And I won’t lie, it was damn exciting.  Best fun I’ve ever had without lying down… But I ain’t going any further.  If it was just an act for you, that’s fine by me.  You’re gonna have to let me make some pathetic attempt at apology for abusing you, albeit under exceptional circumstances, and when you deal out your retribution, I’d appreciate you leaving me some of my vital organs so’s I can leave the building tonight with some shred of dignity left –“

 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

 

“Fuck off,” growled Yohji, flushing.  “I know I truly pissed you off.  You really can be a vindictive bastard, can’t you –” He turned his body away with a gesture of frustration, and slammed the water bottle down on the top of the bureau.

 

Aya was in front of him in three seconds, when he’d never even heard him get off the bed.  Yohji turned back, startled, and caught a glimpse of Aya’s grimace as his bandaged torso stretched to support him.  Then he was too close to see his full expression – Yohji just caught the blazing eyes and felt the hot breath, and Aya’s hands were on his shoulders, pressing him back against the bureau so hard that it slammed against his lower back.  As Yohji opened his mouth to make some complaint, Aya reached around his neck, pulling his face over to him.  And next thing his tongue was back in Yohji’s mouth, and they were kissing again, or rather Aya was devouring him, with sharp, fierce stabs into his mouth, ranging around inside, suckling the taste and the texture of Yohji, grazing at his lips with something beyond greed.

 

*

 

When Aya finally pulled away from his mouth, Yohji grabbed some of that necessary stuff called air, in large, grateful gulps.

 

“Christ, Aya, what are you doing to me?  You know I think you’re one horny bitch –“

 

“Don’t call me that!” hissed the redhead, and now that was all Yohji could see of him, because he’d sunk to his knees on the bare floor in front of him, and was tugging at Yohji’s ripped and bloodstained pants, peeling the fabric apart with impatience, seeking inside.

 

“Joke…” Yohji whispered.  His cock was violently – and painfully – aroused again.  He thought he may have died and gone to heaven and somehow missed out on all the agonising pain – how else could he explain what was happening?  “I was just joking… Aya… fuck… what -?”

 

His back was hard up against the bureau – one of the handles was digging painfully into his kidney.  But he wouldn’t have moved now, even if the damn sword had impaled him.  All he could hear was his own panting – all he could see was the top of Aya’s head, and the pale hands pressed harshly against Yohji’s thighs, prising them further apart.  And then all he could feel was the incredible sensation of Aya’s thin, strong fingers lifting his cock out of its sodden, ruined underwear, and wrapping themselves around the base of it.

 

And his mouth dipping eagerly to go down on him.

 

Yohji gasped aloud – for one of the few times in his life he was speechless.  Aya’s mouth was confident and aggressive; the strokes of his tongue were powerful, consuming him.  He licked strongly from the base and up the underside and over the top, pausing only to dip his tongue into the slit, tickling it there until it was agonisingly sensitive, and Yohji grabbed at his hair to push him back down.  He swallowed more and more of him, drawing his lips into a tight channel around the shaft, and sucking so hard that Yohji felt himself absorbing right into the other man’s mouth.

 

When Yohji yelped with pleasure, Aya sucked harder.  His hands supported Yohji’s aching balls – rolled them between his fingers; stroked at the skin between them and his ass.   Yohji realised he hadn’t been attended to in quite such a professional way for a long, long, time…

 

Aya… oh God…

 

“Hush…” The word was a murmur, setting up a reverberation around his cock that teased at him like a million tiny suckings.  Aya’s tongue dragged the joy up along with it, then left it aching and unfulfilled at the very tip, only to slide back down and suckle at the base again.  Yohji felt every nerve in his body strain to follow that joy, to beg it to come back, to complete its domination.  His stomach muscles ached – his hands clenched into Aya’s long, red locks, in a desperate need to be anchored somehow.  

 

Don’t – wanna – hush –“

 

“They may be listening, as well as watching…” murmured Aya, his mouth twitching around its captive like it may have been smiling.  Yohji was past caring – so let’s give ‘em the soundtrack as well, was his last coherent thought.

 

“I’m coming, babe,” he groaned.  Can’t stop it – now -!”

 

Aya’s reply was a cruel pinch to his balls and he yelled aloud with the mix of pleasure and pain.  Where the fuck did Aya learn such a thing?  He didn’t have time to consider replying to himself because the ecstasy demons were riding him roughshod again, and he was – indeed - gonna come, and come hard, and Aya’s mouth was gonna be filled with the most he could offer, and that was all he wanted in the whole damn world –

 

Yohji’s climax wrenched a sob and a groan out of him, and a whole lot more cum than he’d have thought, bearing in mind he’d already come once today.  His hips slammed against Aya’s chin, and he threw his head back, biting back the howl that he desperately wanted to let loose.  Aya still held him, and sucked it out of him, not allowing him to pull away.  He could feel the rough spots of his talented tongue, teasing at the over-sensitive flesh, and the scrape of his teeth against the shaft as it pumped out its seed, deep into his welcoming mouth.  Yohji shuddered, and he sighed out his pleasure and amazement, and then his wounded leg screamed its protest and he sank down to the floor in front of the kneeling Aya.

 

They stared at each other, panting.

 

“Christ!” whispered Yohji.  “You give one fucking brilliant blowjob…”

 

Woefully inadequate as far as comments went, of course – but what else could he say?

 

His eyes closed.

 

 

*

 

 

He opened them again when he felt Aya tugging at his vest. 

 

“Take it off,” the pale man hissed.  He moved a little awkwardly because of his bandages – Yohji felt the least he could do was to help him out, and he peeled the creased and sweat soaked garment off over his head.  He felt the cool air of the room on his skin and shivered.

 

“Aya… hey, fella…” He was still slightly stunned from his climax.  “What’s happening?”

 

“You want me,” stated Aya.

 

“Um – yeah.”  Yohji fell back on his useful, yet over-used response.  “I’ve wanted you for a long and damn painful time.”

 

“So – take me.”

 

Yohji stared.  Perhaps he’d strayed into an alternate dimension.  Perhaps his ears needed unwaxing.  Perhaps he’d gone temporarily insane as a result of that earth-nay-universe-shattering climax.  “So do you want me, Aya?”

 

Silence.

 

“Yeah,” sighed Yohji.  “I thought that’d be the answer.”

 

“Why should I want you?” came the whispered comment.

 

Yohji raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly.  So perhaps this had to be played to Aya’s own special rules; what else should he expect from such an unsociable and insular guy?  Despite the fact that he was currently substantially out of character, on his knees between Yohji’s own legs, palms hovering barely above Yohji’s shaking thighs.  And with a swollen, pouting mouth, glistening slightly with something that was very likely the remnants of Yohji’s cum. 

 

He didn’t meet Aya’s eyes. Yohji didn’t like rules, except his own, which were few indeed.  At this moment in time, however, he would have rolled over on to his back, played dead for the Queen, and accepted whatever rules Aya wanted.

 

“Why should you want me?  Can’t imagine…” Yohji murmured.  “Can’t be my scintillating conversation.  Definitely not my dress sense.  Possibly my innate ability to drag you into danger, and then back out again.”

 

“And back in again…” came the reply.  Aya dipped his head, so that his mouth was hidden, but there was a rare thread of amusement in his tone.

 

“Hey,” sighed Yohji.  “Don’t think I care to know, anymore.  I’m just so damn tempted to take you regardless.  That OK with you?”  His heart was beating very fast, and he was slightly amazed to find that his poor cock still had some life left in it – it was twitching gently at the thought of Aya in his hands again.

 

“I can’t answer you sensibly, anyway,” said Aya.  His voice was calm, but he knelt up slightly and reached a forefinger to Yohji’s nipple.  There was a very slight shake to his hand, and it brushed the bronze tinted tip.  “There is no sense to it.  I mean – you’re nothing like me.  You smoke, drink, and fuck indiscriminately…”

 

“Yeah,” grinned Yohji.  “It’s been a bad day for me!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“No smokes, no damn alcohol –“

 

“But…”

 

“Yeah – I still got you, haven’t I?”  His voice sank to a whisper.  His chest stretched up, the skin goose-bumping under Aya’s provocative touch. He loved his nipples caressed – licked – nibbled… “One out of three ain’t bad, eh?”

 

He leant forward and tugged at Aya’s hair – hard.  The redhead bowed to his call, and presented his mouth for use.  Yohji used it very, very well, and for a long while there was no sound except for their soft gasps and the occasional outward moan.

 

“Here?  On the floor?” muttered Yohji, and dived back in for more tongue massage.  “Or bed?” he asked, the second time he came up for air.   He didn’t think either of them was up to romping on the bare boards – and the couch was too narrow to take them both comfortably.

 

“Take me,” said Aya.

 

“Yeah, I’m gonna, just let me get up –“

 

“No, Yohji,” Aya snapped.  “I mean, take me – I can’t make it on my own.”

 

 

*

 

 

Groaning, Yohji knelt up and helped Aya straighten up on to his feet again.  His hands were clenched at his sides. Then he led him over to the bed and laid him down on it.  He saw Aya struggling with the pain in his chest – he peered at the bandages, worried that they may not hold up until help arrived.  Christ, let alone through any further sessions like these!  When Yohji thought of what he wanted to do to this slender, sexy body, his conscience tweaked him.  Shit!

 

“Look Aya, this is a bad idea, isn’t it?  You’re still injured –“

 

“Now, Yohji.  Now – or never.  I won’t say it again.”  His voice lowered and his face flushed.  “I won’t ask again.”

 

Yohji stared at the miracle that was Aya asking something of Yohji.  And – more bloody miracles! – it was something he wanted to give so badly that he’d expected bits of him to fall off before he ever got the chance.

 

But still he hesitated.  “I’ve got nothing, Aya.  No protection.  No lube.  I don’t wanna hurt you…”

 

Aya smiled then – only a small, tight smile, but it was such an uncommon sight that Yohji felt the world shift under him.  The redhead held out his right hand, and unclenched the fist that Yohji had thought expressed his pain.  It was full of a pool of glistening, creamy-white cum.

 

“Looks familiar,” grinned Yohji.  His heart was speeding up again.  Fucking man musta run it all round his goddamn mouth, then spat it out again while he wasn’t watching… like he planned for this all along!

 

“Plenty of it,” replied Aya.  Christ, was that a glint of mischief that Yohji saw in his eyes?

 

“Yeah…” the blond smirked.  “Like I’ve been saving it up for a rainy day, haven’t I?”

 

“The rain is easing, you said…”

 

“I lied,” hissed Yohji.  “Like I do that as well, when it suits me.”

 

He toed off his boots and socks, then leant over Aya’s body on the bed, and kissed him – hard.  It was a declaration of some kind.  “I can’t wait any more.  Y’know?”

 

“Yes.  I know.  Take off that sorry excuse for a pair of pants.”

 

Yohji stood back slightly, so that Aya could see him.  He guessed that was what Aya would want.  He put his hands to his pants, still open from Aya’s earlier attentions.  And then, for a stupid, uncharacteristic second, he paused – he was embarrassed.  Ridiculous!

 

“Do it,” said Aya.  It wasn’t an order, but Yohji suspected that the breathy tone of his voice was as near to a please as he was gonna get.  He slipped his hands into the waistband, and tugged them down.  Everything fell in a pool by his feet, briefs and all.  He stepped out of them, and kicked them away.  He ignored the indignant groan of pain in his injured leg.

 

Aya continued to look at him, but his eyes fell down, away from his face – they widened slightly.  He flushed.  And his gaze ran over Yohji’s body slowly.

 

“Yeah, so I know I’m the Eighth Wonder of the World…” joked Yohji, awkwardly.  “I’m feeling a little vulnerable here, y’know? You gonna give me room to join you there?”  He was proud of his body – his prime condition.  Wasn’t he?  And now he felt like a nervous school kid…

 

Aya slid slightly to the side, and his hand trailed behind him on the empty patch of mattress.  As if it were beckoning Yohji.  The blond man knelt carefully up on to the bed beside him, and crouched back on his heels.  His cock reared up from his lap - it leaked droplets of pre-cum.  It glared red and angry and damn keen.  Yohji thought sometimes it was the only truly sincere part of his body.

 

“Take off my pants…” whispered Aya.

 

Yohji’s hands were slow and sure on his hips, and the cloth peeled gradually away from Aya’s cool limbs.  He tried to wriggle his foot out of the last bit, but felt the blond man’s hand on his ankle – suddenly.  Very firmly. 

 

“I’ll do it.”  Yohji’s voice was very low.  Husky with desire.  He took each boot in turn, lifted it, and pulled it off.  Then he slid the pants over each bare foot.  Aya lay naked before him.  Underneath him.  The skin was as pale as always – sweating slightly.  His muscles clenched in anticipation.  It was Yohji’s turn now to gaze – his turn to soak up the sight of his partner’s body; of his flesh, exposed and offering itself to him.  There were scars aplenty.  Some bruises.  And complete, alabaster beauty.  Yohji’s eyes were glazed; he drew a very deep breath.  His tongue traced the shape of his mouth, as if lubricating it for future contact.  He hadn’t taken his hand off Aya’s ankle, and now he grasped the other one as well.  Aya tensed.

 

“Spread ‘em, babe…” Yohji wrenched his legs further apart; his cock bounced on his thighs.

 

“Always the romantic –“ gasped Aya. 

 

Yohji paused.  “Aya – look, I don’t –“

 

“Shut up!” Aya hissed.  “Don’t stop!”  His hair was damp on his forehead.  Yohji watched the muscles tense in his buttocks as he pressed his feet flat down on to the mattress.  His ankles strained against Yohji’s grip, though Yohji knew he wasn’t using a fraction of his strength.

 

“Touch me, Yohji.”  Aya was starting to pant, with shallow, erotic little gasps.  Yohji felt the pain in his groin as the lust started to coil tightly inside him.  Christ, he’d be lucky if he ever got inside the fucking man, he was ready to come if he only coughed -!  He struggled to regain his self control.

 

He folded himself down between Aya’s legs, hands still on his ankles, and nipped at the inside of his thigh.  Aya shuddered.  The small, hungry little bites continued, down to the knees, then across to the other leg.  Yohji’s tongue followed the teasing trail, licking and savouring the salty skin.  He does taste of blood, thought his fevered brain.  Blood, and lust and the best fucking meal I ever had….  Aya’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed.  The panting continued.  His hips made slight, jerky movements, up towards Yohji’s greedy tongue, back down on to the cheap mattress. 

 

Yohji put a firm hand on his hip, and pressed him flat, holding him still.  Aya’s eyes flashed open; he was wary – but Yohji had a smile on his face.  He slid the other hand between Aya’s legs, under his buttocks, and tilted his pelvis up slightly.  He had the perfect view of his cock, balls and ass – all the way.  The smile became a little broader, and Yohji’s head dipped again – this time his tongue flickered out, sliding down the cock, across the shifting balls, and deep into the sensitive skin behind.  There was the smallest moan from Aya. 

 

“Yeah, babe…” hissed Yohji.  “I’ll make you moan for me…”

 

He lapped – he sucked.  And then his probing tongue reached even further underneath, and teased at the tight, puckered flesh of his hole. 

 

Saliva slipped like liquid silver around the skin.  The muscles of Aya’s entrance would have whimpered if they’d had a voice.  They flexed, they begged for a touch – and the invasive tongue sucked at them, and slid inside.

 

Aya’s legs stretched back and apart, trying to expose even more for Yohji’s caresses.   Soft, mewling sounds escaped from deep in his throat.  The blond man was buried under his hips.  His head moved gently up and down, and beneath it all, his mouth teased and softly fucked the gateway to Aya’s ass.

 

Now do it…” came Aya’s fevered whisper.

 

Yohji’s head rose slightly.  Aya could see his face – his too-bright eyes.  Wet lips.  He looked confused.  “How -?  Like, I can’t lie on you…”

 

“Yohji…” sighed Aya, softly.  “Lie back on the bed.”   He slid away from underneath Yohji, and pushed gently at the other man’s side, so that he rolled on to his back.  He took Yohji’s hand in his, and slid the cold, glutinous puddle of cum into the palm.  “Cover yourself with it…” 

 

Then he knelt there beside him, watching as Yohji smeared the creamy stuff over his cock – up and down, until he was nearly weeping with the sensations wracking him.  Was he gonna come again, here in his own hand, and never fulfil the promise of that delicious ass -?

 

But Aya’s hand stayed his – brought his caressing to a halt.  “Wait for me, you fool.”

 

He moved a leg over Yohji’s body, and placed his knees either side of him, facing him.  He placed his hands on the narrow hips – one, two.  Then he raised himself up above him.

 

Christ…” whispered Yohji.  He saw the slim, pale body stretched up above him.  Aya’s hands stroked gently down his torso, trailing a finger down to his navel… teasing lightly at his cock, almost absentmindedly.

 

“Watch me…” murmured Aya.  He rolled the remaining cum around the fingers of his right hand, coating them all.  Then he reached between his legs, ghosting a touch over his balls, but taking the hand even further back.  Yohji saw the concentration on his face as he probed for his entrance – saw the slight shock as he found it, and the fingers entered.  It was still wet from Yohji’s tongue – the path was easier.  Aya stared down at him; his pupils were dilated.  He extended himself up on his knees, balanced on the mattress astride Yohji’s prone body.  He began to move, very slowly, up and down on his fingers.  Yohji saw the muscles of his upper arm contracting and relaxing – he was stretching himself further.  He was opening himself for Yohji.

 

The sound from Yohji wasn’t even a word.  It was pure desire.

 

Aya’s hand left his ass and both hands came back to Yohji’s hips.  Without a word, he took hold of the lubricated cock, settled his legs as far as they would go either side of Yohji, and guided him towards his entrance.   With a little hitch of his body, he settled on the tip, and pressed himself down.  Yohji’s moan was of shock.  He was clutched – suddenly, fiercely! – by the tight, velvety-soft channel of Aya’s ass, and the head of his cock burst through.  Even as he struggled to drag in enough breath to enjoy it, Aya lowered himself further, until he was seated on Yohji’s groin, and his balls throbbed gently on the straining thighs of the man beneath him.

 

Babe…” moaned Yohji.

 

“Stupid word,” groaned Aya.  Move, Yohji.”

 

Yohji regained what little senses he had left and started to thrust gently up into him.  Aya moved with him – a gorgeous, groaning partner in the most intimate act, clenching his buttocks tight around the penetration, pressing his thighs against Yohji’s, to control his body’s movement.  Yohji’s cock slid softly, suckingly out towards escape – then plunged back in with a suicidal delight; in and out of Aya’s lurching body.  Their skin became slick with sweat – their fingers slipped on each other’s flesh, and then grabbed back with a growing desperation for contact.

 

Aya’s cock was swollen, rearing out from his groin, thrusting into the air in a reckless mimicry of Yohji’s fucking beneath him.  Yohji reached up a limp hand, and took hold of it.  Aya gasped.  Yohji began to pump it, in time with their thrusts.  It was soaking, dripping with pre-cum and its own need.  Yohji felt buried so deep that he was one body with Aya – he was gonna fall soon, he knew it, but he was gonna take this red-headed animal with him, that was for sure -

 

“Aya…” He got no reply except for a grunt.  “You said don’t enjoy it too much – when we were making out in the window.”  He was breathless – Aya was moving strongly on top of him, pressing on to his chest with his hands.  Yohji was close – damn close.

 

“So?”

 

“Why can’t I?” murmured Yohji.  “I wanna enjoy you – all of you!”

 

“Shut – up –“ groaned Aya.  “Don’t talk – just – fuck me –“

 

Yohji grinned – he liked baiting him.   He was discovering that he liked baiting him when he was banging him even more.  “Aren’t you enjoying it, Aya?  This?  Me?

 

The response was immediate and aggressive.  Aya leaned forward, and his hands slipped under Yohji’s hips, fingers reaching for the cheeks of his ass.  Yohji bent his knees up behind Aya’s back, tilting the man forward on his lap.  Aya gripped him hard, and pressed his buttocks up fiercely, forcing him to thrust in even deeper.  His breath was hot and harsh on Yohji’s chest.

 

“Not – going – to last –“ moaned Yohji.  Aya was a narrow, heated, seed-softened channel around his cock and he was being squeezed towards ecstasy faster than he’d ever thought possible.  His hand clenched hard down on to Aya’s cock, and he heard the man’s strangled cry.  He felt the sudden throb of the shaft, the ripple of seed releasing itself for explosion out into the brutal world of Yohji’s hand. 

 

Aya shuddered above him, his painful grip now back on Yohji’s shoulders, struggling to keep himself upright; Yohji felt his hips slam against him, the cry of release as Yohji’s fingers squeezed completion out of him, the hot, white cum spurting out to bathe their shared skin.  His muscles contracted sharply around Yohji’s poor, sore, but insatiable cock, and the blond man’s climax broke free.  A gulping, wrenching noise came from his throat, and a burst of wet heat exploded up into Aya.

 

They both cried out together, a harsh, raw sound in the stark room.  The strip light gave its last buzz and flicker, and went out.

 

 

*

 

 

They lay, side by side on the bare mattress, still naked.  If they’d looked out the window, they would have seen the return of power in the street outside; the pinpoint lights in buildings, the occasional yellow glare of a street light.  Despite this, the room was comfortingly dark.  But the chill of the night was seeping in.  Yohji himself was still warm from their activities; from the amazing passion they’d both shown.  He wanted to ask Aya if he was cold – he could use his coat as extra cover if necessary.  But he didn’t think Aya would admit it even if he were.  So he kept quiet.  This is when I’d smoke, he thought.  Gives me something to do when I’ve just fucked.  Saves me having to make conversation sometimes.

 

But tonight, he’d never wanted conversation more.  He wanted to know how Aya felt.  About the fucking, about the desperate, delicious sweat that was now drying on their bodies – about him.  But he also knew the man beside him as a colleague, long before he’d lusted after him.  He knew that discussion wasn’t Aya’s forte.  He was still inexplicable to Yohji – that was his attraction, perhaps.  And it was Yohji’s burden.

 

So it was a shock when Aya’s soft, calm voice broke the silence.

 

“Why did you bring me out?  When I was injured – maybe dying?  I meant it – when I said you should have left me behind and escaped alone.”

 

Yohji bit his lip.  Gently – very gently – he rolled on to his side.  Away from Aya.  So this was where it began – the return to reality.  The cold acquaintance after the hot lover.   “Why d’you wanna know?  It’s done, now.  You’ll only despise me more, and I just don’t feel I need to take that on board at the moment, OK?”

 

He felt Aya’s breath on his shoulder blades.  He cursed himself again, as his mouth opened and he responded to the other man’s silent demands.  “I wanted to.  I don’t leave my friends behind, whatever the orders.  You leapt in to back me up – I returned the favour.  Nothing more.”

 

“Nothing more…” Aya’s voice was a whisper.

 

Yohji sucked on his tongue to keep himself quiet.  He never intended to let any of the ridiculous thoughts in his head out through his mouth.  He didn’t know what it was about Aya that made him blab like such a fucking fool…

 

“Is that what you think?  That I despise you?”

 

“Babe…” sighed Yohji.  Then he was annoyed at himself – he felt Aya tense behind him.  Can’t go calling a prouder-than-proud guy like him a ‘babe’, can you?  “Yeah, that’s how it is.  Like – I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.  Haven’t so far.  You got your standards – I just don’t choose to knock myself out working to ‘em.  We’re always gonna be different…”

 

Aya cleared his throat.  It was a harsh sound in the quiet room.  It felt to Yohji, from the direction of Aya’s voice and breath, that he’d turned his head towards Yohji’s back.  It sent goose pimples up his spine.  He ached again, down between his legs.  Between his bruised buttocks. 

 

“I can’t express things the same way as you, Yohji.”

 

Like – state the obvious.

 

“You got things to express then?” Yohji’s reply was harsher than he meant it to be.  But he didn’t want to be playing word games with Mr Strong-and-Silent.  He wanted to be dreaming about the other games, the ones their bodies and cocks had played, just a little while ago.  He’d dream about ‘em until he had to let go of that and get back to business.

 

“Yes, I do.”  Aya was silent again for minutes. 

 

Yohji was tired of mind-reading, so he stopped waiting for more words.  He thought he might have a nap before the others arrived.  He wasn’t used to this strange feeling of disappointment after sex – a saddening, poignant sense of anti-climax.  A most unfamiliar heartache.  Fuck it!

 

 

 

*

 

 

Aya’s voice startled him again.  “I saw you hit – I saw you go down, and that’s what I thought, too.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“That I’d not leave you there.”

 

Yohji flinched gently.  “That was against orders, Aya.  You acted irrationally – you nearly lost your weapon to the enemy.  They had a go at me – then they sliced you as well with it.  Nearly finished you off.”

 

“Yes, I know, Goddammit.  Don’t turn my words against me.”

 

Yohji sighed again.  He thought he might be feeling Aya’s hand on his waist – the slightest touch of lips on his shoulder.  He wondered if it was like losing a limb – they said you still felt it when it’d gone, didn’t they?  He shrugged.  Who cared?  It was a damn good feeling!  He just had to keep this fucking erection under control, he was like some damn bitch in heat himself…

 

“Better watch out, Aya.  You don’t want me to become your poison, do you?  Something that may taste good, but is damn dangerous when you take too much.  Like I said earlier…. “

 

“Poison’s not so bad,” Aya broke in.  “Poison can be good.” 

 

Yohji froze where he lay.  Bloody surreal statement, that – typical of Aya!  But by now he knew the imagined hand on his waist was real – it was sliding round to caress his stomach.  The lips were real as well – they were damp and plump, and they were definitely suckling at his shoulder now.  He sucked in a breath and felt his muscles relaxing.  Christ, there was something long, and thick and damn warm, just nudging at his buttocks… Aya wanted him.  Again.  And badly.

 

“You are one mixed-up, tight-assed bastard, y’know?”

 

“No-one speaks to me like that!  I’d kill someone for such abuse…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Yeah…” came the murmur, muffled tightly into Yohji’s flesh.  Was the bloody man mocking him now?

 

“But it’s no abuse – it’s a compliment, man!” Yohji grinned.  Trying his sexy, sultry voice, but it was damn difficult over the hammering of his heart.  Or was that Aya’s?  “I like ‘em nice and tight!”

 

He rolled over suddenly, trying to catch Aya unawares.  The redhead was sat up on his knees now, leaning over Yohji, his hand still reaching for his body.  Yohji snatched a greedy glimpse of the shining, luminous flesh, before he was slapped back down on to the mattress.  Before he could protest, Aya’s mouth was on his, possessing him, sucking in his breath, wrenching out his gasps to match his own.  They wrestled – gently, cautiously, allowing for Aya’s bandaged chest – and then Aya broke his mouth away and bent it to Yohji’s own chest.  His lips fastened tightly around one of the tight brown nipples, and he rasped his tongue across it.

 

Yohji groaned.  It was the very best tongue, and it was attached to Aya…!

 

“More, babe… please –“

 

Aya lapped fiercely – he nibbled – he bit. Yohji writhed underneath him, wondering whether he was in paradise or hell, and not caring either fucking way.  Aya pinched at the other nipple with a strong forefinger and thumb – then swapped the two attentions over.  He appeared to have more than two hands – they were moving all over Yohji’s upper body, harsh fingertips pinching at the flesh, probing at knots of muscle, and tracing the dip of his navel… Yohji was a mess of lust and delight and thought he’d just let Aya have another coupla minutes of power, and then he’d really have to show him who was the master here.

 

Then the fingers moved down below his waist to claim a different victim.  He forgot his naïve plans.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Yohji was fading gently in and out of delirium.  Aya’s hand was a loose sheath around his cock, and it was rolling up and down the shaft like a smooth tube of living satin.  He reckoned he could feel the individual whorls of Aya’s fingertips on his flesh.  He wondered if there’d been any scientific studies as to how long a guy could drift like this, barely holding off a mind-blowing climax, swimming in this incredibly sexy, sensual sea of sensation…

 

“Why me, babe?”

 

He never really expected Aya to answer, but he did.  “You’re the only one that’s ever connected with me.”

 

“What?  Aya, you’re talking crap.  You can connect with anyone, y’know.  I’ve been doing it for years, and it ain’t half bad –“

 

“You arrogant prick,” hissed Aya.  “I don’t want to be like you, do I?  And that’s not the point, you stupid bastard.  I don’t want connection – OK?  But you… you’re still there.  I can’t get away from you.”

 

Yohji grimaced.  Shrugged.  “Your point is?”  It was a rhetorical question.  But he got yet another answer.  Something had loosened Aya’s tongue, and maybe not just the exercise around Yohji’s most precious, private parts.

 

“You arse about; we argue all the time –“

 

Yeah – and? thought Yohji.

 

“We disagree about mission protocol all the time –” No disagreement there.

 

“I call you a stupid bastard…” Aya’s voice was confused – his expression was struggling to understand God knows what.  “I ignore you as much as I can.  I tell you to get lost more often than not.  But you’re still there.” 

 

Yohji took his chin and turned him around to face him.  “You must still want me to be, babe.”

 

Aya continued to stare him out.  Yohji gave one of his most long-suffering sighs.

 

“Don’t fight everything, Aya.  That’s another place we’re different.  Sometimes I just give in, y’know?  It’s better.  It’s more fun.  I don’t ask why, and I don’t offer answers in return.  But if I wanna do it – and it’s good… Why not?”  He wasn’t sure what he was talking about – life?  sex? – but it sounded a fair enough assessment of his philosophy at this moment.   Jesus, he thought, it must be damn tiring being Aya.  All that repression – all that self-control.  Damn high maintenance.

 

“Look, man – tell me just one thing off the top of your head about this day.  One thing about me.  Even if it’s shit.  Just don’t think it through first – just snatch the thought and say it out loud –“

 

“I enjoyed it.  I enjoyed you.”  Aya snapped his mouth shut as if he’d let out the demons of the world from Pandora’s box.

 

Yohji felt a flicker of warm delight that had nothing to do with the unbelievably tense ache in his balls.

 

“So let’s do it again, babe!  That’s the best damn reason in the world!”

 

 

 

*

 

 

“Those arms OK to take your weight?  Your knees?”

 

Aya nodded.  He was very flushed.  His lips opened very slightly, and a ragged breath escaped.

 

“Get on ‘em, then.  If – if you want –“

 

“Stupid bastard…” came through Aya’s gritted teeth.  He dropped gracefully down on to his hands and knees, ass presented to Yohji like all his Christmases and birthdays rolled into one.  I want.”

 

Yohji knelt behind him, took hold of the tight skin at Aya’s hips, and nudged his long legs further apart.  His cock was rearing up, desperate for him.  The vision of Aya’s spread legs and exposed ass was gonna haunt any erotic dreams he ever had for the rest of his life.  “I can go easy –“

 

It was frightening, how Aya knew what he was thinking.  What he meant.  “I’m wet enough.  I’m full of you, Yohji.  Do it…”

 

Yohji pressed the tip of his aching cock against the pucker of Aya’s hole – against the promise of hot, tight, soft, clenching ecstasy.

 

“Ask me, Aya.”  His voice broke on the word.  Please…

 

“Fuck me,” Aya groaned.  “Fuck me again!”

 

And for one of those few times he admitted to, Yohji did what he was told.

 

 

*

 

 

It was ten to midnight.  Yohji pulled the drapes a little to one side.

 

“There’s no sign of anyone across the way any more.  We’re clear to leave.  There’s a burger van – I think it’s Ken.”  He grinned.  “Bet the van was Omi’s idea!  Hope to God they’ve got it well stocked, I could eat four of ‘em at least.”

 

Aya stood across the room; he’d pulled his coat on over the bandages.  Stood in his pants and coat, holding the katana.  The picture of an injured agent, still aware of his duty.

 

Yohji felt the discomfort of his own clammy, spoiled clothes.  He’d crawled back into his stained shirt – reluctantly redressed in the tatters of his pants.  It was an offence, he thought, to be seen like this.  An offence to the senses of all fashion-conscious guys!  When he got back, he’d buy those stretch silk pants he’d been lusting over all month.  He’d have the longest bath he’d ever had.  He’d dress in the pants, and his silk briefs, and the purple mesh shirt, and go out on the town and…

 

When he got back.  Yeah…

 

He looked over at Aya.  He tugged his coat around him, over the clothes.  That could all wait.  They’d both been standing there for over five minutes, like they hesitated to leave.  But this was their escape, wasn’t it?

 

Yohji took pity on them both, and spoke it. “I know what you mean.  There’s part of me that doesn’t wanna go back.  That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

 

Aya’s eyes flared wider, then the lids drooped back, hiding his expression.

 

“Yohji…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It can’t ever happen again.”

 

Yohji rolled that statement around in his head.  Teased his emotions with it.  Bounced it off his exhausted groin area.  Right…

 

“Sure.  Whatever you say, Aya.”

 

Aya frowned.  He hadn’t expected Yohji’s agreement.  He hadn’t expected a lot of things that had happened in the last two days.  He was still weak from the wound – still disorientated.  But he knew his mind was as clear as ever.  This was meant to be back to normal, wasn’t it?

 

He stared at the tall, blond man.  At the slightest smirk at the corner of his full lips.  There was a spark of challenge in his eyes every time he looked back.  Aya stared at the pathetic, filthy clothes – he remembered the build and the suppleness and the warmth of the naked body beneath.  His breathing sped up.  The damn clothes still looked good enough on Yohji to make Aya want to take them all off again…

 

He hated the uncertainty of this.  He had never planned for this to happen.  It can’t ever happen again -

 

“Can it?”  Was that his voice?

 

Yohji shrugged, as if he couldn’t care less.  His grin was rather more revealing.

 

“I should say it’s up to you, Aya.  I should follow your lead.  But as I guess you know, I rarely do what I’m told.  You said it yourself…”

 

He pushed himself upright, ready to move out.  “You’ll soon be on the mend, Aya.  Soon be as fit as ever.  All sorts of other things you’ll be able to do… you might want to do.  Happy to help out with your recovery, y’know?”  In his slow, cynical drawl, the sensible words acquired deep, sexual undertones.

 

He moved easily from the window, over to the door, past Aya.  His movements were lithe, and almost feline.  He was in tune with his body.  It needed rest and some recovery itself, sure; but Yohji knew its power.  He knew its attraction.  What he couldn’t always control was where that attraction would strike.  When he really wanted it to. 

 

Not all his conquests were easy.

 

Damn uncertainty… he didn’t enjoy it.  It wasn’t his scene.

 

“We still don’t know what might be out there, do we?  May be some fucking ambush or whatever –“

 

Aya was silent, but Yohji knew that this time it was the same as agreement.  They were going out into an unknown situation, but they were going as a team; as partners.  They were never better than that.  Well – almost never…

 

“Coming?”

 

He turned back to call Aya over, but the man was already close up at his shoulder, startling him again.  His hand was tight on his sword, ready for whatever they met outside of the room.

 

Their breaths were hot  – gasping softly into the same sweet, cloying space.  Yohji felt again the vivid impression of Aya’s teeth on his flesh – his voracious tongue rasping on his body.

 

“I hope so,” replied Aya, his seductive tone belying the simple words.  “I damn well hope so.  And soon!”

 

And then he passed the speechless Yohji, striking out into the corridor and their intended escape.

 

 

End