Indigo Sheets

Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Characters: Yohji x Aya
Date Completed: 12/16/03
Archive:  Please ask first.

It had been a long night, and all Yohji wanted to do was collapse into his wide, soft bed and sleep. Five hours of casing the site of their next mission in the cold, damp, but thankfully rain-free night, Ken bitching endlessly at his side. Another hour listening to that and he would have popped him one; damn the consequences of hitting a man with four-inch knives strapped to his hands. But Omi had taken pity on them - or decided they'd gathered enough information about the guards' change-over habits - and finally let them come home. Barely an hour before sunrise.

Yohji staggered up the last few steps to his room in the pre-dawn dimness and fumbled his way through the door. Managed somehow to at least kick off his boots before he stumbled blearily toward his bed. Already anticipating the smooth, cool welcome of his very own sheets freshly changed that afternoon as he let his coat fall to the floor. Sheets he was eager to stretch out across so he could fall into the oblivion of their embrace and blessed, welcome unconsciousness...

Only to come alert instead with a jerk as he saw his bed wasn't empty at all.

A long, lean, masculine shape lay smack in the middle of the bed, just visible in the glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. Taking up nearly the entire wide mattress as it slept, oblivious to his entry.

Aya. It was Aya in his bed.

The red-head had kicked off most of the blankets, and lay covered only by the top sheet, well-shaped shoulders gleaming above the dark fabric. Bare skin. No tee-shirt, as was his usual habit. Yohji's mind blanked with sudden, eager speculation as he moved to stand at the bedside.

His heart began to pound with a heady anticipation that soon faded into the frustration of reality. No, they hadn't gotten that far yet. No matter that the other slept in his bed more often than not, tormenting him with his closeness during the course of his recuperation. They'd done little more than lay in each other's arms and some heavy petting, even if he thought he'd memorized every inch of the other's body already by heated gaze and cautious touch. Aya just wasn't able to tolerate anything even remotely strenuous yet; his lungs were still weak from pneumonia just defeated, his broken ribs only truly beginning to heal now that most of the coughing had passed. The heavy cast from biceps to wrist on his left arm certainly didn't help matters either, nor the lingering overall weakness that infuriated Aya so. But apparently, Yohji noted with a mixture of chagrin and frustrated appreciation, the other felt well enough tonight to sleep on his stomach for once.

Lucky him.

Even though he knew he would only make it harder on himself, he caught the corner of the sheet and pulled it back, slowly revealing pale skin stretched over lean muscle; the narrow arrow of upper back leading to the gentle curve of lower back, rounded buttocks below arching to join lean thigh - all of it exquisitely bare beneath the sheet and faintly glowing in the indirect light. He devoured the sight with an eager gaze, taking in every inch of exposed skin. Naked. Aya was sleeping naked in his bed. Before he could stop himself, his other hand reached out - trembling ever so faintly - and brushed slowly down that tempting expanse. It felt even better than it looked, warm and smooth. Perfect.

He felt a gathering beneath his hand. The red head lifted fractionally from the pillow that lay over folded arms, shifted, turned to face him slowly. One eye coming just visible beneath ragged bangs. He met the sleepy half-gaze with cool aplomb, despite the quick lurch in his chest. "Hn," was offered to him as the only response and his pulse surged. No one else was ever privileged to see Aya so relaxed, he knew. No one but him.

A slow, pleased smile stretched his lips even as his hand continued to stroke sleek, unmarked skin with appreciative reverence. Cupping, tracing, lingering. There was only one scar of note high on Aya's back; none lower. The bruising on his ribs had finally faded, leaving only pale, perfect skin for him to admire as his eyesight adjusted completely to the dim light.

He moved closer, bracing himself with a knee on the bed. His weight on the mattress tilted Aya's body toward him, making the other grunt softly at the shift. The eye narrowed briefly in annoyance and the head lifted higher, untidy eartails falling about a sleep-softened face.

"Dressed," Aya said, his low voice even huskier than usual.

"No, you aren't, as a matter of fact," Yohji answered, lips twitching.

His slowly wandering hand paused on one tight round of Aya's ass, thumb stroking down the velvety-smooth valley between, tickling the short, downy hairs that grew there. Muscle flexed beneath his caress, tightening briefly as a quiver ran through pale flesh and Aya arched subtly against his hand. He rewarded him with a gentle sliding squeeze. Over the weeks he'd gradually come to understand that the seemingly prickly and untouchable Aya was actually a glutton for contact of almost any kind. Massage. Rubbing. Stroking. Or just plain touch. Well, his touch, at least. The thought made his lips twitch again ever so smugly.

"You," Aya said, shifting again, rolling slightly to the side, a knee sliding up to brace himself as he turned more to face Yohji. Pooling shadows hinted at secrets hidden beneath an elegant arch of hip. Yohji let the sheet fall from his hand as he bent all the way forward, hair slipping around his face as he leaned over the redheaded man to brace one hand on mattress on the far side of his shoulders.

"I'm dressed? Yeah, the walkthrough went longer than we thought," he said, then added with a soft laugh, voice falling to a husky murmur, "You're in my bed again, Aya."

That just earned him another "Hn," this time with both eyes watching him from beneath dark lashes. Flickers of heat showed in those veiled eyes. He grinned openly, the grin widening at the irritation that joined the heat, at the annoyed cast of Aya's lips.

"Got used to it, huh?" he said, leaning down slowly and brushing his lips over Aya's forehead. Feeling the cool silkiness of hair against his chin as Aya shifted beneath him, turning further onto his side. The heavy cast slid out from beneath the pillow, dull yellow fiberglass scraping across the sheet with a harsh sound. Yohji frowned slightly at the extra wear on his good sheets. He'd spent a lot of money on them, after all. Ultra-high thread count. Finest Egyptian cotton. They were smooth yet still crisp after dozens of washings, in a deep midnight blue that made Aya's pale skin and red hair look all the more luminous against them. It was a damn good thing that cast was coming off soon - for many reasons. Anticipatory saliva gathered in his mouth; he swallowed hard.

"Don't be a fool," Aya mumbled, brows drawing down in the beginnings of a frown as his uncasted arm rose and snaked around Yohji's neck even as Yohji laughed softly at the insult.

As often as Aya called him a fool, he should consider it an endearment by now, he thought, then let the thought go as Aya pulled him down toward him slowly, lifting his mouth to meet his. Pausing, as he always did, at the first brush of flesh on flesh, his eyes flickering open to look directly into Yohji's from close up, waiting. Yohji smiled wryly, the movement just barely rubbing their mouths together. Aware of the increased pace of Aya's breathing, the parting of his lips, the dart of his tongue out to wet them that just barely brushed his own. The fleeting caress made a tremor run through him.

"Stubborn fuck," he breathed fondly before closing that last distance and pressing his mouth down hard and wide over Aya's. He thrust his tongue through already parted lips and teeth to find the damp warmth within, sighing in pleasure. So warm. So good. So welcoming. Aya groaned, arm tightening around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, his body seeming to sink into the bed beneath him. Yohji held himself up with effort against that inviting pull; he was not going to put weight on Aya's still-healing ribs.

Aya loosened his grasp after a moment. Slid his hand up to fist it in Yohji's hair, pressing insistently down again. Trying to pull him on top of him. It was a familiar struggle lately. Yohji responded instead by thrusting his tongue deep into Aya's mouth, over and over, until he heard a low groan from the other, before drawing it back enough so that their tongues could duel again, their breath merging. Then Yohji became lost in the melting heat of mouth on mouth until he began to lose track of where he ended and Aya began in a heady, enthralling, enticing embrace that just made his body ache and throb for more.

After an endless time, he broke away to suck in deep, steadying breaths. Despite the firm grip on his hair he turned slightly to the side, enough to make it easier for Aya to catch his breath as well. Listening as Aya struggled a little to do so, breathing in rasping gulps of air for a few tense moments. Listening warily for the distinctive hitch that would announce a coughing fit. Inordinately pleased when it didn't come. He was fully aware that Aya's lung capacity was still far below normal. He'd only been cleared two weeks ago to begin limited light aerobic conditioning again and the pig-headed fool tended to overdo it if not watched. But not today, apparently, even though Yohji had been preoccupied with pre-mission planning.

Aya's breathing began to smooth after just a few moments and his hand loosened in Yohji's hair, falling away to clutch at his sleeve instead and allowing him to sit down more normally beside him. He leaned against Aya's thigh and into the curve of his body as he looked into the faintly flushed face.

"Been here long?" he asked huskily, smiling down at him.

"All night," Aya admitted without any further prodding. In his bed. Naked. Clearly waiting. His thoughts raced gleefully down lurid paths until, with a low grunt, Yohji lifted a hand to shift his stiffened cock, trying to ease the awkward pinch of it as it surged eagerly inside his tight pants. The other man's gaze blatantly followed the motion from beneath lowered lashes. Reddened lips parted to let soft panting breaths emerge. Yohji sucked in an eager breath of his own, staring at an Aya transformed. He looked wanton and sensual, eyes dark and glittering with anticipation and need. It was one of those nights, it seemed, when Aya's long-suppressed sexuality all but oozed from his pores. But he wasn't quite strong enough yet to follow through with his body's demands. Much to Yohji's ongoing chagrin and frustration.

"You are a fucking tease, you know that don't you?" Yohji said, groaning deeply as he shut his eyes against the sight, struggling for control in the face of Aya's provocation. Dredging up memories of the terrifying days spent watching Aya just struggle to breathe - those tempting lips hidden behind an oxygen mask, the hand reaching for his constantly - in an attempt to control himself.

"No. You're the tease," Aya said hoarsely. "You're the one who always stops anything from happening."

"One of us has to use sense," he groaned, stung by the accusation, the subtle disappointment in Aya's tone, and scrubbed a hand over his face as the weariness from the night's mission returned in a rush. "Your ribs are still fucking broken, you know."

Aya made a low sound of disgust, shifting on the bed again, his hand falling down Yohji's arm to his wrist. "I never imagined you'd turn out to be such a prude, Kudoh."

His eyes flashed open and he glared down at Aya, stung harder this time. "Prude?! It's simple consideration..."

"Consideration?" Aya interrupted, his voice husky and low, his gaze locked on him with searing heat from under lowered brows. "I'm so hard I hurt and it's your fault... so do something about it." He guided Yohji's hand to his groin, straight to the hot, silken length surging between his thighs. Yohji closed his fingers around Aya's rock-hard cock with a groan, listened, with a rush of reckless longing, to the softer answering gasp from Aya. He explored it by touch for a moment. So similar, yet so different. Then Aya pushed it up against his hand with a soft sound of pleasure and nearly all his reservations fell away.

"Yes, consideration, Aya," Yohji breathed out unsteadily. "Because my lovers have to be willing and able to give me everything..." He stroked his hand the length of Aya's cock, gripping it firmly around the root before moving up again. Found the slickness already leaking from the end and slowly spread it around the plump tip with his thumb. "...and what I most want to do with you requires your full participation."

"So you just want to fuck me," Aya said flatly, his eyes glittering dangerously beneath heavy lashes. The statement challenging, almost angry. But his mouth was open to let out quick breaths, his lips damp from the slow swipe of his tongue as Yohji began to move his hand. The soft sucking sound of flesh over damp flesh sounded loudly in the silence. Aya's free hand rose to meet the more restricted one, slipping beneath the pillow under his head, lean body rolling into Yohji's every stroke despite his words. Yohji smiled with slow satisfaction and began to move his fingers faster on Aya's length.

"Oh yes," Yohji whispered, hooding his own gaze and watching Aya's face flicker and change with unnamable emotion as he varied his strokes; teasing, then fast and hard, then soothing, but always building the pressure skillfully. Aya began to shift sinuously against the dark sheets, hands fisted over his head, hips moving in a slow counterpoint to his handling. "I want to fuck you. Hard and deep," he said, his voice faintly raw. "Shove my cock into your body until it can't go any further. Pull your legs up over my shoulders. Listen to your breath stop with each thrust. And watch while you jerk yourself off as I pound into you..."

Aya's eyes slid closed and his chin lifted during this recitation. He began to pant even harder. Face flushing, pulse throbbing wildly in his arched throat. And so Yohji increased the pace, thumb swiping over the weeping tip with each stroke, watching the pleasure build and roll across Aya's normally controlled face and savoring it. White teeth bit into a lower lip. A light sweat started on the flushed throat and brow. Aya moaned aloud at last, the sound wanton and needy. His hips were surging up steadily, urgently, all thought apparently gone. Yohji grinned in triumph.

"You want that too, huh? Want me inside you? I'll tell you something else, Aya," he said, leaning closer. Close enough to feel the now rapid motion of his hand on Aya against his own stomach, the movement an erotic accompaniment to the man writhing beneath him. Leaned close enough to feel Aya's sharp, urgent breaths on his face, to catch the hectic glitter of his gaze beneath lowered lashes before he went on, "I want you to fuck me too... exactly the same way."

Aya's eyes flew open wide in surprise and he came with an abrupt, upward jerk and a strangled cry. Cock pulsing wildly in Yohji's hand. Hot come splattering against Yohji's thin shirt and soaking instantly through to skin. He watched it avidly; devoured the enrapt, blind, overwhelmed expression on Aya's face, absorbed the little shuddering after-shocks that wracked his lover's body, and ruefully noted the accompanying flares of pain that came from tender ribs as Aya sucked in deep, hitching breaths, tight belly fluttering beneath his hand. He skimmed his mouth over Aya's cheek, not quite able to subdue the smug grin that stretched it despite the unfulfilled ache in his own pants.

"Y-you... talk too much..." Aya said in between gulps of air, his eyes closed, his face flushed. Yohji bent and kissed the tender dip beneath Aya's ear, buried his nose in red hair, vividly aware of the rush of his own blood, the need still with him, but content enough to lay braced over Aya like this and let the sticky result of Aya's release cool between them. Aya's cock had half-softened in his hand, but he could still feel the occasional pulse as aftershocks run through him.

"Do I? But you seemed to like it," he whispered, the smug smile returning to his lips. Aya felt the expression against his skin, twisted slightly to lower his good arm and push at him in annoyance.

"Fool."

"A horny fool too," Yohji said with an exaggerated sigh, moving back slightly to look in Aya's face again. "And that's entirely your fault, sleeping naked in my bed."

The violet gaze was softer now, if not by much, Aya's face still filled with the sleepy satisfaction of his own release. Dark brows gathered slowly into a frown. "I told you..."

Yohji cut him off with a quick kiss that turned long. Not wanting to argue about Aya's recovery again. Probed his mouth deeply and still found no resistance, no denial. Just languid heat and satisfaction. That was almost enough for him. And it wasn't that he didn't want to get off - because he did, his body was practically screaming for release - but that something else in him still marveled that he was even allowed to do this. To be this close to Aya. To share something so intimate with him. And that Aya himself insisted on it, was eager for it. Sometimes it still almost seemed unreal... or impossible.

The ache in his balls was real enough, however. He broke off the kiss at last, and leaned back. Aya's hand had slid back into his hair, was tangled in the long strands at the nape of his neck. It fell away, trailing across his upper back and shoulders, Aya's eyes fluttering open as he slowly licked his lips. The hand brushed down his side to his hip, then in toward his thigh. Yohji intercepted it before he could touch him through his pants, however, grabbing his wrist tightly.

"Don't be noble," Aya said, annoyance creeping into his eyes. His hand closed into a loose fist, but he didn't try to break the hold.

Yohji forced a grin, holding onto Aya's wrist firmly, not taken in by his seeming capitulation. He wasn't going to come in his pants like some kid. And jerking him off like this might hurt Aya's ribs. "When have I ever been noble? I'm the man who practically dry-humped you while you were still sick."

A decidedly lascivious look crossed Aya's face. "So do that again."

Yohji blinked at him, grin fading. He hadn't expected something like this from Aya. Aya. Teasing him. Aya wanting him. They'd circled each other for so long - arguing, competing, snubbing - when the fundamental truth was they really wanted each other. It had taken Aya almost dying to make them both see it, admit it. Fully adjusting to what that meant now was apparently going to take him some time.

The lascivious look faded before his continued silence, a more familiar icy anger creeping into the violet eyes.

"Look, Yohji, I'm not one of your women. Don't coddle me..."

"What the hell are you talking about 'woman'? Fuck that, you almost died, Aya," Yohji interrupted sharply, staring at him hollowly. Lost in the horror of that near possibility again. It haunted him, how close Aya had come, lying here in this very bed, slipping away from him while he watched... helpless... Something in him slipped, caught. Hard and sharp in his chest. Enough to make him gasp. But he hadn't been helpless... he'd challenged Aya. And Aya had come back to him...

"So?" Aya snapped in a rough echo of his own thoughts. Pushing himself up with his cast, leaning on the artificially bent elbow to glare into his face, eyes snapping with icy fury as he wrenched his other wrist out of Yohji's suddenly slack grasp. "I'm alive and I want to have real sex with you, you fool! Quit treating me like I'll break!"

But he would break, Yohji knew. He could break. It shocked him how badly that simple fact shook him now. As if he hadn't already known it, in their bloody profession. But then Aya's hand slapped hard against his shoulder, rocking him back and startling him with the strength behind the blow. And then Aya was pushing him back again, harder, shoving him off the bed.

"Get out." Furious. Low. Deadly.

Yohji just goggled at him for a moment, and Aya shoved him harder until this time he slipped off the edge of the bed. He caught himself and staggered to his feet, staring into dangerously narrowed eyes.

"Aya, this is my room," was the first thing he could think to say. Stunned stupid.

Aya's glare just deepened and his one good hand clenched into a fist. He was clearly ready to use it too, as he held it cocked at his side. "Get the hell out."

Yohji blinked down at the other man who sat in the middle of his wide bed, legs curled beneath him. Naked but for a puddle of dark sheets around his hips. Red hair tumbled wildly from sleep and passion. Saw the fury in violet eyes, and beneath it, the pain. The uncertainty. The longing. Aya needed it. That final step. Impossible reassurance in the face of stark reality.

Aya was afraid for him, too.

"Shit, Aya," he said on an unsteady exhale, running a hand through his hair, eyes wide as understanding dawned. Giving in forever at that moment, though Aya didn't know it. Because guilt and fear couldn't stand up to the living fury of Aya, fuming in his bed and throwing him out of his own room because he wouldn't fuck him. A slow smile curled his lips. His hands dropped to the button of his tight pants. He undid it with a pop as Aya stared, the zipper slipping open like magic.

"Okay, okay," Yohji said with a mock sigh, letting a hint of the warmth that surged inside him into his voice as he tugged his pants open. "You want it that bad, I'll fuck you." I love you, he meant.

Aya's eyes flashed up, held his gaze. After a moment, lids fluttered down and hid the sudden shift there. The fist unclenched, lowered to the blue sheets. His hand turned over, pale fingers unfolding slowly against the darkness. Reaching without reaching.

"It's about time," Aya said, his voice hoarse.

- - fin - -