Unexpected

by paxnirvana
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Characters: Yohji x Aya
Rating: NC-17
Date Completed: 10/19/04
Archive: Please ask first.

Author's Notes: I am an EVIL TEASE. *grins unrepentantly* Many thanks to my patient LJ flist for putting up with me. This is pretty much a pure PWP. But one needs one of those every now and then... right?

*tackle-glomps beta DragonladyRM* My very own sanity-checker and comma-squisher! Thank you thank you!! Anything off in here is all my own stubborn fault. ^_^ You rock, dear.

Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit here. They belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß. But if Koyasu's done with Yohji, I'd be more than happy to take him off his hands. Really.

~*~*~*~*~

Yohji was just about to take a sip of his first drink of the night when Aya slammed out of the tiny bathroom on the far side of the trailer, utterly naked except for a disheveled yukata sticking awkwardly to his wet body. Yohji froze, drink half-way to his mouth, and stared. The loosely looped sash ends dangled from between the tightly-clenched fingers of the fist that was really the only thing holding the thin robe closed. Aya's other hand was fisted just as tightly around a familiar pair of boots. His new boots, actually. He glanced up into his teammate's face, startled, wary.

The look on Aya's face was pure fury beneath long, dripping bangs as narrowed eyes sought him. Found him. Pierced him. Angrily compressed lips tightened into an even harder line.

"Kudoh! Stop leaving your damn boots in the bathroom! I almost broke my ankle tripping over them!" Aya shouted, then flung the offending footwear toward Yohji from across the living area so they narrowly missed his head, slamming into the wall above and beside him. He had to duck to the side to avoid their descent, slopping a good portion of his bourbon and water all over his hand and pants leg.

The boots - expensive, imported, and Italian - thumped down beside him, one heel catching the point of his hip painfully even as he juggled his glass, trying to keep it from spilling further. The other fell on the floor into the puddle of bourbon. That was not good for the leather -- who gave a shit about the cheap vinyl floor? Yohji set the dripping glass down on the table beside himself before bolting up off the couch and bending over to snatch the boot out of the mess.

He glared back at his red-headed teammate, two and a half week's worth of close-quarters and enforced sharing of space with three other men in the miniscule confines of the trailer preying heavily on his mind. "What the fuck is your problem? You almost brained me!"

"I couldn't have," Aya snapped back, "because that would imply you actually have a brain! How many times do I have to tell you to pick up after yourself!" Aya's lip curled into a savage snarl of irritation as he raked at the dripping hair that clung to his face, apparently distracting him. His precarious grip on the robe slipped and the yukata gaped open for a second before he caught it, one hand twisting the thin fabric closed again with impatient speed.

But not fast enough.

The hot retort on Yohji's lips vanished as his brain seized up. Because with that flash, he had been very clearly shown that Aya was standing in front of him naked. Or nearly. His gaze flickered down the other's body, momentarily stunned. Long, hard muscled legs with only a dusting of ruddy hair on the calves gleamed beneath the still rather precariously wrapped blue fabric of the robe. Narrow hips outlined by damp cotton. Lean chest. Strong shoulders. Firm arms. Yohji tried to yank his gaze away, startled by the strength of the wash of eager heat that went through him at the sight. So? he tried to tell himself, staring eagerly. It was rare to see Aya anything other than fully clothed, another part of him said, and the man had a fine body. Fit and hard. And very, very male. He was a good looking man and Yohji was anything but blind. But still, this was Aya, after all. Not exactly the warmest member of their group. One could risk losing fingers or toes to his frigid demeanor at times.

Except, Yohji noted, gaze tracking over Aya's face, right now he was looking rather uncharacteristically heated. Even if it was just annoyance. Yohji swallowed hard as he caught himself staring fixedly at the faintly flushed line of Aya's neck and jaw as he managed to drag one clinging eartail away from his face. Aya's attention stayed fractured for a moment more, held by the catch of still more hair on the simple stud earring he'd started wearing only recently in place of the other longer one. His continued impatient swipes at his own hair made the yukata slip off his far shoulder, baring the smooth flex of muscle beneath pale, damp skin and the distinctly chiseled line of his chest all the way down to the pale rose aureole of the nipple.

Heat rolled through him as he stared at that small piece of flesh, so different in color from the rest of Aya's chest; his thoughts fixed suddenly on what it would taste like. Damp and clean from the shower... would there be any sweat left? Any salty musk lingering on that rosy skin… so slick and bare… or would it taste like the mildly herbal soap he knew Aya preferred?

His thoughts tumbled dangerously. And how would the rest of Aya's skin taste by comparison? Yohji could only stare, enthralled, as Aya lowered his hand, earring freed from entangling hair at last. He reached across himself impatiently and tugged the yukata up, breaking Yohji's trance-like gaze. No, not breaking it, but drawing it up with the motion toward Aya's face again until it fixed on Aya's down-turned mouth and the lips that were tight with irritation and a dark annoyance that was a little out of proportion for something carelessly left behind to trip over -- even if it was in a miniscule bathroom shared between four men who dealt death for a living.

Yohji stared at that squared, hard-lined mouth - Aya's mouth - and wondered, suddenly and shockingly, just what it would look like stretched around his cock, with his hands buried deep in that thick, russet hair, curving close around that elegant skull and guiding Aya's head as it bobbed steadily between his thighs …

He knew the exact moment Aya caught on to the reason for his lack of reply. Because that tight mouth slackened in pure shock, parting in that lightning-like instant to let a single puff of startled breath escape before clamping back down in a grim, forbidding line. He let his gaze track up then, daringly, foolishly, until it locked on the suddenly wary eyes above. For another instant he thought uncertainty flashed in those violet eyes but it vanished into the familiar narrow, hard sheen of a glare that promised only pain.

His cock went rock-hard in his pants anyway. Oh, fuck, Aya was hot. Wet and nearly-naked and glaring at him. And he was apparently feeling suicidal tonight. Because he couldn't stop staring. And wanting. Aya shifted on his feet and hard muscle rippled as the yukata slipped stubbornly off the one shoulder again, revealing skin so pale it was like fresh cream, overlaid on the exposed curve by a jagged line of red hair darkened deeper by water. He wanted to taste Aya's skin and find out if it was as smooth and rich as it looked. It couldn't be, he knew, but he'd have to lick him from top to bottom just to make certain…

Yohji swallowed hard. Tried to wrench his brain away from the heated, sensual images suddenly consuming it. Found it nearly impossible to do in the face of this tempting vision when he'd found Aya attractive from the very beginning. He certainly hadn't hauled every man Ken had knocked out to his own room to recover after all, and only a blind, dead fool would think Aya anything but attractive – if not downright hot. He had simply ignored that draw for his own health and well-being once he met the man conscious and started to work with him - and realized the depth of his… er, focus on revenge. But that was done now and they were here, stuck in this tiny trailer together where they'd been rubbing up against each other - And Ken. And Omi. - for far too long already without respite. Four grown men used to rooms of their own and time they could call their own forced to live for the foreseeable future crammed into a space meant to hold half their number.

Aya's bunk was even the one right above his. He'd lain in his own at night, listening to the restless sleep of the man above him while he struggled with that old attraction come back to bite him now that he could no longer find ways to avoid Aya. Or to distract himself. The attraction had been eating at him. Making him crazy. Reckless. Because right now they were alone in the trailer, keeping 'watch' while giving Ken and Omi a short break from its confines in exchange for time of their own outside it later. But right now Aya was standing so close… and was nearly naked…

All that flashed through his mind in the few frozen seconds before Yohji let the boot he held fall with a heavy thud out of suddenly nerveless hands.

Something flickered in Aya's gaze again at the sound, darkening it. They stared at each other for another handful of breaths, still locked in that blinding instant of awareness. He expected to see revulsion or shock or, at the very least, fury flare in those violet eyes at any moment. But instead lids just slid slowly down until thick lashes masked those darkening eyes, as if Aya were suddenly weary, his face smoothing into a carefully impassive mask as his chin twisted ever so slightly away.

Heat raged through Yohji. His heart jerked in his chest, pulse speeding up. Years of working bars and clubs to pick up partners for the night, the evening, the hour had taught him to read the subtlest of signs of interest. All those instincts were screaming at him now… That was an invitation. Or he'd eat his boot.

His mind fuzzed out for a moment as the heat raged higher. Maybe - just maybe, he thought – Aya had been ignoring something all along too...

He moved across the intervening space in only a few steps. Closed a hand around the white-knuckled fist that held the yukata together. It didn't take much effort to get those clenched fingers to release, only a quick tug and the robe fell open. His gaze skimmed eagerly over what was revealed, a wide swath of Aya's chest and tight stomach… and one rosy nipple.

Yohji bent forward without a word and sucked that flat oval between his lips, letting a soft indeterminate murmur leave his throat. Faintly disappointed that it tasted of water and soap, not salt and musk. But the center of that sleek ring of flesh hardened rapidly beneath his laving tongue, then peaked sweetly in his mouth when he drew it carefully inside.

Aya moaned but the sound was cut off almost instantly. Yet he'd heard it. That self-betrayal. That admission of need. He groaned softly. In reply. In acknowledgement. In sheer pleasure. After a moment, Aya sucked in a shaky breath as well, an almost gasp, but made no further sounds. Holding his breath.

He hid a smile against Aya's chest even as he caught the nipple gently between his teeth, rolling it carefully, hands rising up to rest lightly on Aya's hips to brace them both as Aya's breath gasped out again. Stuttering, catching. Short of a moan, but only barely. His hands flexed over sharp hipbones as he sucked on Aya's nipple avidly, tugging it with his teeth, swirling his tongue around the hardened tip. Using every ounce of his expertise on the suddenly shuddering chest beneath him. Until finally he felt the brush of Aya's hands against his shoulders. Light and tentative at first, then they settled there, tightened. For an instant he thought Aya was going to push him away… yell and swear and call him a fool - or worse, try to kill him - but then he felt a distinct pressure urging him down.

He went. Sinking obediently – if slowly – to his knees. Taking his time. Letting lips trail across warming flesh and over a fluttering stomach as he went. Hands trail alongside sleek ribs, shaping them. Tongue dart aside to dip briefly into the tight circle of Aya's navel. A shudder rippled through the other man as he dropped one hand down ahead of his mouth's path gently skimming the yukata out of his way.

There was something bobbing just beneath his range of vision. He felt a cool dampness brush across his chest and quivered in anticipation. He slipped his hands beneath the dangling yukata, across lean hips and around to the only slightly softer cheeks behind. Gripped them tight, sinking his fingers eagerly into heavy muscle as he moved his mouth down the taut abdomen until there was sleek hair under his chin and something long and hard and hot tucked beneath his jaw.

He risked a look up Aya's body. Found the darkened gaze watching him from beneath heavy lids. Aya's mouth was parted enough so the tip of his tongue showed behind his teeth as he panted for breath. His blood surged eagerly.

No excuses. No hesitation. No denials.

Yohji let his lips twist, one hand relinquishing its grip on ass to slide across damp-cool flesh, shifting forward to the goal of sleek hip. He ran his thumb along the satin-smooth skin inside the hollow of bone. Once. Twice. Watched a quiver run through the lean, pale body above him in response and chuckled softly, knowingly as his hand then ghosted down to the sleek skin of Aya's inner thigh. Heat poured off the other man, denying the snow-pale look of his skin.

Slightly crooked teeth clamped down over Aya's lower lip then, hiding the tongue. Without looking down, Yohji skimmed his hand up and found the cock waiting under his chin. He took his time curling long fingers around it; slowly, near the root, all while still staring deep into Aya's eyes. Watched pupils flare wide even under the unforgiving fluorescent lights. Mouthed a question that made Aya's hands flex on his shoulders as darkened eyes slid closed again and teeth unclenched long enough to let the tongue darted out to wet a now-reddened bottom lip.

"Yes," Aya replied after a torturous delay, voice resonating so low in his chest the word was almost a groan. "Now."

Yohji opened his mouth, lowered his head and swallowed Aya's cock in one easy move, his lips sliding over the length, slowly and carefully. Pressing forward steadily until his nose brushed the shower-damp hair of Aya's groin and his lips hit his own fingers where they curved securely around the root. Hot and sleek. Hard. He closed his eyes, tongue curling around the length, jaw working just enough to let the round head brush against the back of his throat without gagging him. His own cock was like iron in his pants, throbbing hard beneath the tight material.

Aya's fingers clenched brutally into his shoulders, body arching forward as he bowed over him. Yohji felt more than heard the other groan, deep and long this time. He waited for a moment, jaw relaxed, hand steady, and let both himself and Aya adjust – it had been a while since he'd given a guy head after all – before he began a slow, steady rhythm of sliding. One he thought he could keep up.

Aya was long, nearly filling his mouth. He closed his eyes and paused a moment to better savor the sensations. Absorb them. Hard. Warm. Smooth. Not too broad. And he tasted good: clean and yet distinctly male. Yohji wrapped his free arm the rest of the way around the narrow hips before him, bracing himself. His own cock ached, so far sorely neglected, but he resisted the urge to reach down and stroke himself. That would come later. With benefits. He adjusted his grip on the root of Aya's cock. Adjusted the angle carefully to avoid teeth. Then he resumed motion, concentrating on rocking... sucking... licking until a faintly bitter flavor touched his tongue, slicked his mouth even more than saliva. Pre-come. He smiled around it, paused, held Aya's cock deep in his throat for a breathless second then hummed in pleasure. There was a gasp from above and one of Aya's hands leaped from his shoulder to his hair. It knotted there in the long strands, but not painfully. Not yet anyway. Just holding on.

Yohji kept his eyes closed, drew back enough to suck in a quick breath through his nose, before resuming the steady bobbing. Lips rounding around Aya's cock. Throat working. Mouth holding steady as saliva built, flooding his mouth, slicking Aya's cock and easing the slide. Allowing the stray droplets to fall unheeded from his lips in his eagerness even as the pressure of friction made his lips faintly numb around the hard width.

It was good. Aya in his mouth... so good. He'd forgotten how good it could feel to suck cock.

Then Aya grunted, gasped. Called his name – his first name – in a wild, hoarse voice and clutched him tight, hips surging forward. Yohji braced himself, relaxing his throat as the hard length first swelled, then jerked deep into his mouth. Hot fluid squirted against the roof of his mouth, flowed across his tongue, down his throat. Expecting it, he stayed relaxed, swallowed eagerly, senses suspended in that heady moment as Aya bent over him, groaning, shaking and trembling, filling his mouth with his come.

He let Aya's cock slip out of his mouth at the other man staggered, losing his balance slightly. Yohji took several gulping breaths as he wiped the back of his hand across his tingling lips, the move followed eagerly by his tongue. The taste of Aya filled his mouth. Not clean at all, anymore, but earthy and raw. Rich. He said so, looking up from beneath a lock of tumbled hair into the slitted eyes watching him. There was a distinct flush on Aya's face and he swayed slightly, gaze flaring. Despite Yohji's arm around his hips, he fell back against the counter near the miniscule stove. Leaning heavily on his elbows, he threw his head back and groaned, the sound echoing loudly in the kitchen.

Yohji looked around the small space. The narrow aisle hardly qualified as a kitchen but they could cook in it and it managed to divide the living quarters and bathroom from the lounge behind them. The blinds were down tight over the windows as usual. It was only the two of them. They would be alone for hours more. He'd just sucked Aya dry... now it was his turn. He wondered if Aya realized that yet. He chuckled quietly in anticipation, waiting patiently for the other man to recover.

Aya's head was still thrown back and his body was trembling slightly with aftershocks. The dark blue yukata still hung from bent elbows; one hand clung loosely to Yohji's neck beneath his hair. His breath was coming in deep, shaky gasps through saliva-glossy lips. The formerly pale cheeks and chest were lightly flushed. Yohji could see his pulse still hammering wildly in the arched throat. Apparently Aya wasn't used to coming that hard. Yohji grinned, smugly pleased, and licked his own lips again before rising slowly to his feet.

Aya's hand tightened in his hair as he leaned close, pressing his body against Aya's. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh; his silk shirt sliding easily over bare skin, his low-slung suede pants rougher on bare thighs by comparison. He pressed his taut, trapped cock to Aya's groin, rubbing against him as he slid one hand behind Aya's waist again. Drawing them even more tightly together from the waist down. Heat and pressure and the sheer hot scent of male... Yohji drew a shuddering, urgent breath of his own and Aya's head lifted at last, an intent gaze fixing on him from beneath heavy lids.

"You've done this before." He didn't make it a question.

Yohji didn't even blink. "So have you." There was no denial. He grinned in satisfaction, his gaze flickering down to Aya's panting mouth, but catching on the quick dart of tongue across it. His smile widened slowly as he dragged his gaze up again until he caught Aya's once more. "But you know me: I'll try anything as long as it feels good. No matter how bad for me it is…"

The hand in his hair flexed warningly. The glittering eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I won't be toyed with."

"No... you won't," Yohji said, dropping his tone to a husky murmur as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them in a rush. His mouth covered Aya's, tongue darting out to trace the path Aya's own had taken seconds ago. He felt Aya's breath suck in sharply around his tongue, and followed it in. Moving hot and slow and sure. Tasting. Stroking. Slick, hot mouth against cooler one, fully sharing the left-over flavor of his own come with him. Aya quivered but made no move to push him away, lips moving under Yohji's tentatively. But not rejecting him. He was pleased. He hadn't been sure Aya would want to be kissed. But kissing was one of the best parts of sex. And that slightly open mouth had been so very tempting an invitation…

He began rocking his hips against Aya's in time with the movements of his mouth. Sucking. Licking. Gentle, but firm. Building sensation in the other man again. Stealing his breath. Giving it back with tongue and open mouth. He stroked the taut back with his hand. So fine, the line of Aya's spine. So strong, the ripple of muscle around it. So sleek, his skin, except for the occasional texture of scars. He spread his own legs and let Aya's thigh ride between his own, rolling his hardness over it with easy thrusts of his hips. Learning the feel of him. Carefully coaxing a response. He was rewarded, finally, by the slow stirring of Aya's still half-hard cock. He kept moving even when Aya hardened the rest of the way again, content in the moment and in the feel of his own trapped cock sliding against the fold of Aya's thigh. And in the flow of muscle and mouth and breath as one.

Yohji yanked his mouth away at last, reluctant slave to the need for air, and listened to them both suck it in urgently. After only a moment respite, Aya arched against him. Eyes closed, chest heaving, he rolled his head slowly to the side to expose his neck, even as his fingers tightened in Yohji's hair, drawing him close. Yohji stared, breath catching. Overwhelmed by the raw need he read in the offered neck, the clutching hand, the slackened, blurred mouth. So unlike the Aya he'd known for so long. Not cold or remote at all, but beautiful… erotic… open... an Aya he'd never seen even a glimpse of before.

Need surged painfully. He wanted to touch him. Everywhere. Spread him out and savor him. Explore him and devour him and watch him melt again and again into this loose, passionate creature. But the need to thrust, to come clawed at his control. His body demanded satiation soon. He didn't think this Aya would deny him.

"Ready for more?" Yohji whispered, testing. Eyes flickered slowly open, met his gaze. Heat arced between them, stealing his breath. Aya nodded once with his mouth open, his breath still coming faster than normal. Yohji's mouth dried a little at the need so blatantly betrayed.

With deliberately exaggerated motions, he reached past Aya toward something on the counter beside him. Aya glanced at it, raised one arched brow slowly but said nothing as Yohji retrieved the small bottle of olive oil. Expensive and imported, Omi used the stuff for his latest hobby, cooking Italian food. Taking a half step back to part himself from Aya's body - no matter how necessary - was almost painful, as was the loss of Aya's hand in his hair. It fell down slack against the counter edge before gripping it tightly, knuckles whitening as Aya braced himself.

Fingers trembling slightly with eagerness, Yohji flipped the plastic cap on the bottle of oil open with one hand and fumbled his pants open with the other, wrenching the tight fabric wide without any concern for the zipper at all. He shoved his boxers down with no more care, his cock springing free with an eager bounce even as the rich, earthy scent of the oil filled the air. Aya wrinkled his nose faintly but still made no protest, watching Yohji's every movement but making no move to help.

Neither of them were innocents, it was clear. He found the idea both appealing and not. That Aya would know what to expect, be anticipating it, even eager for it, made his pulse surge… but from who had he learned? Who else had seen him like this? Aya was watching him intently from beneath damp strands of hair. Now was not the time… Yohji firmly pushed the flash of jealousy to the back of his mind. First things first. He tipped the bottle over the head of his cock, letting a generous amount of oil coat it. Hissing softly, he stroked it in with the other hand, gauging carefully. It was a little thick but it would do.

He capped the bottle almost by accident and dropped it back on the counter, reaching past Aya to brace a hand there. His balls were starting to ache and he was shaking slightly. Too eager. More than ready. He looked greedily at the lean body trapped in front of his. Aya made a soft sound of approval as he moved closer, his body arching back slightly so that stomach muscles rippled, the yukata tangled around wrist and elbow only accentuating the ivory-pale skin. Still stroking himself, Yohji leaned slowly closer, the heat of Aya's body rising up to envelop him again as he neared. It made his head spin slightly. He buried his face for a moment in the still-damp red hair beneath Aya's ear and was glad of the shock of coolness against his cheek that helped him focus a little better.

"Jump up on the counter," he murmured before drawing back again, watching the other closely. Aya had closed his eyes when he drew closer, his body trembling slightly. Now lowered lids fluttered and a frown tugged at the still open mouth where breath came faster for a moment, then smoothed out again.

Aya swallowed audibly, throat working. "Why?" he whispered huskily.

"So I can reach you," Yohji purred, watching his reaction from the side of his eyes while still stroking his own cock.

A brief quiver ran through the lean form as, to his pleased surprise, Aya obeyed, eyes flickering open slightly to sear him. The counters were narrow and awkward, with cabinets too close behind, but somehow Aya managed to get himself up on it in only one try. He perched there, swaying awkwardly forward for a moment until Yohji stepped hastily between his knees, bracing him with a thrust of his hips and a quick arm around his waist. Aya lifted his legs until his feet were braced just below the edge of the counter, thighs closing around Yohji's hips securely.

"Put your hands on my shoulders," he rasped, and Aya complied wordlessly. Yohji left off stroking his own cock - he felt almost ready to burst - and slid his oil-slick hand eagerly over Aya's thigh, running it back and down until he reached the cleft of his body. A short search found the tight hole beneath; fingertip pressing against the pucker as he listened to Aya make little sounds like anxious sobs the while. Yohji let out a gusting breath and struggled for a moment with his control - because he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined Aya would make sounds like that - and braced his forehead against a tense shoulder. Wanting to push inside with a rush and see if Aya would writhe, but instead he circled the fluttering opening with his fingertips instead, very careful to spread the thick oil - and his touch - everywhere except inside. Preparation was everything, after all. His cock jerked eagerly against Aya's raised leg, pre-come splashing from the tip across his wrist and Aya's inner thigh as he circled that hole carefully again.

Aya groaned, his head falling back against the cupboard with a hard thump, but the hands on Yohji's shoulders tightened even as spread thighs clenched, pulsed, then quivered slightly as they relaxed again.

"Don't play; do it," Aya said suddenly, his voice harsh, strangled. As if he were nearing some kind of limit.

Yohji let a smile curl his faintly swollen lips, wicked but unseen, and obediently pressed one slick fingertip more firmly against the tight ring of flesh. Aya arched up, quivering, and sucked in a sharp breath. He held it there for a second too long, then - slowly - slipped it inside to the second knuckle. So hot. So tight. He groaned in anticipation even as Aya's mouth fell open on a deep moan, his eyelids fluttering wildly. With a sudden lurch, Aya wrapped his legs around Yohji's hips, his whole frame shaking lightly from head to toe; Yohji shook too, having to hold his hips back by sheer will just to keep from thrusting against Aya's encircling thighs and humping him like an eager dog. Because the move had pushed his finger in even deeper, almost as if Aya were trying to impale himself…

Recovering control slightly, Yohji let a low, rueful laugh escape him. The man was trying to impale himself. Aya knew what was coming and wanted it… badly. And, oh gods, this strange needy creature in his arms was hot enough to burn him to death if he wasn't careful; he barely seemed like the same man. The ice and reserve were gone as if they'd never existed - and even if he might just as easily try to kill him for this later when what sanity they could claim returned to them both again, Yohji knew this moment was worth it. He'd just have to make the rest of it well worth remembering too.

Still, he wasn't above a little more teasing first.

"Do what?" he said, letting his voice drop to a purr again. "Do this?" He pushed his finger in even deeper, stroking with the others as they pressed against the taut ring of flesh outside. For a moment his finger was squeezed crushingly tight, then he felt Aya relax around it, accepting it, and the sensation sent even more blood to his throbbing cock - if that was even possible. Ears pounding, Yohji panted for a moment, his damp forehead rocking back and forth where it rested on Aya's shoulder, then drew the finger out slowly again.

Aya jerked, body arching sharply in denial, but then muttered sharply, "Quit teasing - do it."

But Yohji already had his cock in hand and was pressing forward, the head rubbing hard beneath Aya's balls for a moment before he shifted it down, slippery and hot. Then, careful to make sure he was in the right position, he let it rest against the hole for a moment, savoring the soft, insistent sounds Aya began to make again, as well as the tiny ripples of flesh beneath it, and the slight slip inside caused by the involuntary forward pulsing of Aya's hips. He lifted his head, panting, and stared hungrily at Aya's face.

Red brows drawn into a frown, pale skin flushed, top teeth clamped hard on lower lip; it was an expression the likes of which he'd never seen Aya make before. Urgent. Vital. Alive.

Intensely erotic. He was already addicted; he knew he'd have to see it again. No matter the cost.

"Look at me, Aya… look… at me," he breathed. Aya tossed his head from side to side slowly, lips moving in soundless words as Yohji pressed against him but refused to enter. Maybe a denial. Maybe a plea. The flimsy cabinet door behind him creaked loudly as he lifted his chin, his eyes coming barely visible beneath heavy lids. But open enough for the heat of need and anticipation there to make Yohji flatten his other hand across Aya's back and gently rock them together. Testing. Probing. Almost immediately, he felt Aya relax into his push, and his oil-slick cock head slipped the barest way into tight heat.

Caught by surprise, he let out a startled grunt, eyes flying wide for an instant. And then his control vanished. Butt clenching tight, hips surging, he drove his cock the rest of the way into Aya's body in one relentless thrust. The hard body in his arms folded against him, arms coming tight around his upper back, fingers raking his shoulders until they found purchase and gripped. He was relieved to have slid inside against only token resistance, oil and need making a hot welcome. He braced one rigid arm against the creaking cupboards to hold them both up as strong legs clamped almost painfully tight around his waist, ankles crossing in the small of his back in a move that drove him in even deeper. He staggered slightly as Aya made an inarticulate sound. Not quite pain, but not truly pleasure either.

"Good… Aya… you good?"

A nose butted sharply against his throat, beneath his ear, and a head of damp hair rubbed cool against his cheek. Quick, panting breaths seemed to burn against his skin. He turned his face to the side to press his lips to the side of the damp head. Closed his eyes for a moment to try and wrestle his control back into place.

"You okay?" he asked again, aware of the desperate strain in his voice, in his body. He was at the very edge of his control. Body screaming at him to move move move now…

The voice that answered him was almost unrecognizable, gone thin and raw with need. "Unnh… fuck… me…" Yohji felt the scrape of teeth against his throat as Aya's mouth opened over it, the last word uttered so that it vibrated against his skin.

He held still for another terrible, fragile moment of anticipation, and then he began to thrust. Back rounding, hips driving. Aya's mouth was on his throat, teeth pressing on him, breath hot. Making odd, soft grunting mewls against his skin with each thrust. There was a cock slapping against his own belly - Aya's cock - he fumbled for it with his oil-slick hand. Stroked it eagerly even as he stroked deep into Aya's body. Hot. Tight. Consuming him. Surrounding him. He threw his head back, grunting with effort… so good… pressing deeper, further with each thrust. Grinding his hips. Trying to get… all the way… wanting all the way… inside. Aya's cock jerked sharply in his hand, spitting warmth on his hand, between their sliding bellies; he absorbed Aya's short cry against his shoulder, ignoring the sudden sting of teeth. A surge began in his balls. Climbed up into his groin in a great spiraling rush; blood thickening, heating, surging through him until it burst behind his eyes, in his brain, and out his cock, making him ache and groan and shout out as he exploded into release. Pressing deep one last time to shoot as far as he could into the other man's body. Feeling as if everything inside of him was draining into the other man; all that he was accepted eagerly… welcomed… wanted…

The arm he had braced against the cabinet felt weak, muscles quivering in the aftermath. He locked the elbow, determined not to fall. Aya's arms still clutched him tight, hands looped over his shoulders from behind, pressing them chest to chest. He could feel tremors shake them both but couldn't tell from which of them they came. He grinned weakly, mind dazed, and let his head sag down until it rested on Aya's shoulder again. He slowly became aware that the other man's legs were trembling with the effort of maintaining their grip on his waist; after a moment they loosened their hold, sliding down until they were draped around his hips.

They were both dripping with sweat and come; somehow Yohji's silk shirt had gotten twisted around him in the middle of all this and was likely ruined. He couldn't find the energy to care. Because at the moment nothing mattered but the next beat of his own heart confirming that he was still alive, the next wash of Aya's breath across his throat confirming that he was there as well, and the next fading pulse of Aya's body around his softening cock that proved it had all really happened.

"Damn," was all he could say after more than a minute had passed this way, his voice hoarse. Aya shifted against him sluggishly, rolling his head to the side.

"Let me down."

Yohji grunted, mouth quirking. "Not sure I can."

"This counter's uncomfortable."

"So's your shoulder…" Yohji said ruefully, even as he gathered what was left of his strength. He let Aya's spent cock go with a sigh of regret and slid his arm around the other man's hips. "Ready?" Aya held his gaze as he drew back, his cock sliding free of the other man's body with a soft pop. Darkened eyes fluttered, heated. Yohji groaned.

"I want that back," Aya said, his voice low, thick, as he lowered his feet to the floor. Somehow he kept his balance, even though Yohji could see his legs wobble slightly. He kept his arm around the slim waist, steadying him. The flushed face lifted, Aya pinned Yohji with an intent gaze. One he couldn't look away from. "You should know; I don't share."

Yohji groaned again, swallowed hard before shuddering deeply. "A-aya…" was all he could manage. He stared at his teammate helplessly for a moment, heart pounding wildly, mind whirling. Flushed, naked, covered in semen; Aya was stunning. Dangerous. Beautiful. And apparently wanted him for more than just a quick fuck.

Yohji reached out and tangled a hand in half-dried red hair. Tightened the arm about his waist and drew the other man close enough to kiss again, staring down into those glittering eyes.

"Good. I don't share either."

-- fin --