Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Mission Masquerade	By : drunkelnatt Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1936 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mission Masquerade
- 1
“And we decided it should be you, Abyssinian,” Manx said as she looked
pointedly at Aya.

One of the Weiss doubled over in laughter while the other two sighed
in relief.

Aya cursed silently. Damn them, he’s probably the last
one to know about the mission, and it must be a humiliating one, by the looks
of it.

“What?!” Aya
grated out. “Why?”

“It’s an order, Abyssinian. The mission takes place tomorrow evening.”
Manx motioned to the brown parcel sitting on the kitchen table and a box on the
chair. “Inside are the things you’d need for the mission. And here –” she
handed him an orange manila folder, “– are the information on your target. And
remember, it’s not who you’re looking for, it’s what you’re looking for. Make
sure you get only what we need; nothing more, nothing less. You’ll drive there.
You’ll not be monitored. You’ll not carry any weapons at all because the club
is a prestigious one and thus, have strict security at the entrance. You’re
registered under the name Ryo Ishida. They’d ask for your name at the entrance
of the club and then they’d screen you for weapons. And one more thing, I want
the disc with the information by 3 in the morning. Birman
will collect it from you, right here at the Koneko.
Did I make myself clear, Abyssinian?”

Reluctantly, Aya nodded once. He didn’t like
the sound of this job. When Manx left and the rest had gone to bed, he plopped
down at the kitchen table and studied the contents of the folder. Inside the
file was a thin stack of paper, separated into 3 smaller proportions with paper
clips holding each of the small volumes of papers together. The first part of
the three divided sections was about the club itself – the history, who runs
it, what the club has, its running hours, who works in it, security and several
blueprints. The second half of the papers was about the information that Aya was supposed to get from the owner of the club. The
last part was about the whole mission.

The redhead took off his reading glasses and closed his eyes, all the
while chanting to himself: Don’t kill Persia, don’t kill Manx, don’t screw Kritiker.

They want him to go to a masquerade party that was going to be held in
Club Zone. It wouldn’t be a crazy party with a lot of clubbing and loud music,
but it would be a party where these filthily wealthy businessmen and
businesswomen mingle and get associated and maybe talk business. It is also
because the club is a new social establishment, a branch of the famous Club
Subzero.

“This thing is called a ball,” Aya murmured
to himself as he opened his eyes again and looked at the package in front of
him. He knew what was inside the parcel – a suit and shirt and a mask. The
smaller box on the floor next to his chair housed the shoes that he’d be using.
The redhead sighed and tucked an ear-tail behind his ear.

“It’s that not scary, Aya,” Yohji said softly as he sat down on the chair opposite the
man.

He looked up at Yohji and resisted the urge
to either poke his tongue out at him or to stare him down until the blonde
explain to him why they all had such reactions earlier on when Manx told Aya of his job.

However, he just hn’ed and ignored the lanky
man as he continued to read to see what he was supposed to look for when he
goes to the ball and mapping out his strategies by making small notes on the
blueprints.

-

Aya looked down at himself after he’d dressed. A deep
wine-red shirt that was nearly black and a simple black Armani suit with a pair
of well-polished, black leather Kenneth Cole ankle boots to go with. He
wondered whether he could fit some of Omi’s darts into his new pair of shoes
just in case something happens but decided against it.

He reached into the parcel again and took out the mask that he was to
wear for that night. It was a simple half-face mask made of soft, smooth
leather that was of a hue darker than his shirt. The sides of the mask had
metal studs embedded in them.

Oh, so that’s what he’s going to wear for the night. At least it
wasn’t a hand-held traditional Venetian-styled men’s half-face mask with two or
three feathers sticking out from one side. Maybe if he did get around killing
Manx and Persia for assigning this job
to him, he’d kill them without pain since they’d obviously put in some thought
for the type of mask that he’d used.

When he went downstairs, the other three were there, watching
television. As he passed Yohji, a barely audible hiss
was heard, followed by a faint smell of a Hugo Boss cologne. The redhead turned
and glared at Yohji, but the blonde simply stated
that since Aya’s going for a masquerade ball this
grand and mingle with the wealthy and powerful, he should at least smell nice.

The claret-haired man sniffed the air around him as Yohji squirted more of the cologne on him – while the older
man went over Manx’s instructions again – and had to admit that it’s quite
good. The smell wasn’t the usual strong scent that the lanky blonde had been
known using. Aya decided he didn’t mind that Hugo
Boss whiff all that much.

As Aya drove, he went over the blueprints
all over again in his mind and carefully told himself where to go and at what
time and where he should go should someone saw him. As soon as he’d reached the
club, he parked his car into a parking space between a Mercedes and an Audi and
pulled the mask over his face. He looked at himself through the reflection of
the rearview mirror, adjusting his mask so that it
was perfectly in place before he tugged at his ear-tails to release them from
the elastic band of the mask. He ran his hands through his hair and smoothed
them down.

That’s it. The mission had begun.

Aya entered the club easily and strode in confidently,
nodding at some of the people who nodded at him, shook hands and exchanged a
few words of acknowledgement when some of them greeted him with soft murmurs of
“Good evening”. The place was rather quiet, with the constant mellifluous
mumbles at the background as the guests talking business. The redhead headed
for the bar, deciding to be a wallflower until his gut instincts told him it
would be the right time to leave and go up to the office that was situated on
the first floor of the club to get the information.

He settled for a sweet fruit cocktail laced with bourbon and studied the sea of humans before him. The
women were wearing beautiful, colourful masks decorated with feathers and
sequins and glitter – some of them half masks, while others wore quarter face
masks.

Aya finished that cocktail and decided to order
another one. This time the bartender placed a tall glass in front of the
redhead. There was a slice of lemon perched on the rim of the glass and the
drink in it had an interesting hue of yellow. He took the glass in one hand and
sat back, leaning on the bar and continued his observations.

Majority of the men wore half-masks like Aya,
something that only covered the area around their eyes whereas some of them
wore partial face masks and quarter masks. They were much less detailed than
the women’s masks. None of them seemed suspicious, although Aya
did see the man who owned the club, and various others. He couldn’t be sure it
was him, but the height and built of the man fitted the description that Manx
had given him so he assumed that it had to be. Besides, his instincts told him
that the man was the proprietor of the place.

“Good evening,” a man said as he sat at the stool next to Aya, his presence startling the redhead out of his
concentration.

The claret-haired man collected himself quickly and muttered a soft
greeting back before going back to his drink. He watched through the corners of
his eyes as the man leaned over the counter and ordered a drink for himself.
When the bartender tuned around to face them and planted two shot glasses in
front of the two men, Aya couldn’t help it but gave
the stranger next to him a look.

“One for you since yours is finished,” the man said. “I assume you
drink?”

“Ah,” was the redhead’s only answer as the stranger pushed the shot
glass in his direction. Something about the man was very familiar to the
swordsman but he couldn’t put a finger to it. Was it because of his wavy long
hair or was it because of his slightly nasal accent? Something about the man
was just too familiar.

The swordsman took one look at the yellowish liquid in his shot glass,
staring at the tiny bubbles floating up to the surface of the drink. Aya thought that it was interesting; or maybe it was
because he’d had too much to drink already. He’d never been a heavy drinker –
he had been known to pass out after a six-pack, three shots of pure vodka and
one shot of whisky. Either that or make a fool out of himself when he’s drunk.

“You know what?” the man eyed Aya. “Hey,
you’re not drinking. Come on.” With that, he went on to tell Aya how the redhead had the perfect build and size to be a
model. He told the swordsman about his company, the models who work for him,
the type of clothes his models would walk on the runway in, and how he could
make Aya a famous model as long as he has the man’s
consent.

Aya offered a half-smile that never reached his eyes
when he listened to the stranger and held his breath as he emptied the contents
of the shot glass in one gulp. Despite the painful burning sensation at the
back of his throat, he forced himself to swallow. Whatever the drink was, it
must’ve burned an impressive path when it went down his throat and settled into
his stomach.

He could feel the warmth from the alcohol spreading in his stomach and
the heat rushing to his cheeks. He could hear the steady yet fast beats that
his heart was making, almost drowning the stranger’s voice who was still trying
to talk Aya into signing a contract with NT Models.
His vision seemed to pulse and jump with every heartbeat.

Shit, maybe he’d had a little too much of alcohol this time. Fuck it!
He couldn’t screw up this job! It’s such a simple task!

The redheaded assassin could feel cold sweat breaking out all over his
body despite the warmth that was still rushing to his face. His world turned
slightly dimmer. Oh fuck, he had to go. Now!
He’d definitely screwed the mission and probably fucked himself over it.

“Hey, are you alright?” he heard the stranger asked.

He felt the stranger holding him up as Aya
tried to get off the stool and that movement alone nearly made him threw up.
What the hell was that drink?! It
couldn’t have been that strong. But he couldn’t find the voice to tell the man
to get away from him and that he could manage all by himself just fine. The
alcohol made Aya felt sleepy, but at the same time he
was very aware of the man’s arms around his waist and on his arm as well as the
side of the man’s body pressing up against his left side.

Aya was vaguely aware of his surroundings but somehow
he knew that the stranger was leading him to the first floor of the club. He
was talking again but the swordsman found that he couldn’t concentrate on the
man’s words.

Oh, what was the reason he was here again? Mission. What was the mission?
Does he have a backup whom he can call to help him out?

His mind was busy asking questions, yet the whole time he was aware of
the arms that were around him. The blurry vision before his eyes tld him that he was in a room, an office perhaps, judging
by the furniture in that place.

“Abyssinian,” someone called.

Fuck. Someone knew him? Wasn’t he supposed to be alone for this
mission? How come–

Aya’s train of thoughts were cut off
when he felt a pair of lips on his. Startled, he tried to push away but found
that his limbs wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands.

“Eww… get a room!” someone said, whom the
redhead vaguely recognised as the stranger who had talked to him at the bar.
Then, those warm lips left his. Strangely, Aya wanted
more.

“We are in one,” the other man said.

Aya’s muddled brain tried to analyse
the latter’s voice and searched his memory, hoping that it might provide some
answers as to why that voice sounded so familiar. Distantly, he heard the door
clicked shut, severing the outside world from the room.

“Mmm… I’ve always want to know how you’re
like. Looks like it’ll a chance for me to find out tonight.” The man nipped the
top of Aya’s ear; the redhead moaned softly, unable
to control his voice any longer.

The swordsman couldn’t help the lusty moan that escaped his lips
either as the man rubbed a hand on his crotch. Damn, why was he so sensitive
tonight? He could feel his cock hardened from beneath the man’s clever hand.

When the rubbing suddenly stopped, Aya
voiced his disappointment in a low groan. That man started it, he should finish
it! There’s no way he’d leave with an engorged flesh that had started throbbing
now. He dared himself to look up at the man before him.

The first thing the redhead noticed was the white partial face mask*
that the stranger wore. The visible half of the man’s face seemed familiar,
although the redheaded assassin couldn’t remember where he’d seen him. The man
was wearing a charcoal, nearly black three-piece over a dark blue shirt. Like Aya, he wore no tie.

“Just enjoy yourself, Abyssinian,” he whispered, licking the shell of Aya’s ear, enjoying the shudder that ran through the
slender body. He was delighted knowing that he could bring such pleasure to an
assassin like that redhead.

And suddenly the man was behind the redhead. Aya
couldn’t fathom how the man could’ve moved that fast without him sensing the
movement, but that doesn’t matter. The stranger made quick work of Aya’s belt buckle and succeeding in popping the button and
unzipped the slacks.

The Weiss assassin moaned loudly when he felt the stranger skipped a
hand into his briefs, the lovely fingers coming into contact with his shaft. He
closed his eyes in bliss as the hand slide against his thigh for a moment
before moving up a little to fondle with his balls. He threw his head back,
moaning a little as the man’s fingers brushed against his perineum and
continued playing with his sacs.

“Ah, so you do enjoy another
man’s thouch,” the man whispered, taking the
redhead’s earlobe into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it repeatedly.

Aya gasped sharply when the man behind him slipped a
hand under his shirt and upon finding a nipple, pinched it before rolling the
hard nub between his thumb and forefinger.

“May I, Abyssinian?” the man asked, all the
while never ceasing his delicious rubbing over the swordsman’s erection.

Clouded with lust and need, Aya moaned a
“yes” as his hips bucked to get more friction from the man’s hand that was
enclosed around his member.

In a swift motion that was too fast for the assassin’s body to
register, Aya was bent over a table. He was well
aware of the edge of the table pressing into his stomach but even that didn’t
matter much in his aroused state. Cool air hit his ass as the man yanked down
the redhead’s pants and briefs. It was then that he realised he’d been sweating
despite the air-conditioning.

Odd.

Then, the truth dawned on him. He was about to be taken. In a club. And when he was on a mission! He’d never bottomed
either. Contrary to popular belief, he was not a virgin. But that didn’t mean
he’s always a bottom.

The sound of a zipper being pulled down snapped Aya
from his thoughts. He braced himself for the pain that he knew would accompany
it.

“Relax.” That was the only warning that Aya
had gotten before the man pushed two dry fingers into him.

He knew he’d screamed then. The stranger’s other hand came around his
face and pressed against his mouth. He didn’t need to say anything. The redhead
knew how to take a hint. When the felt three fingers in him and stretching him
to his limits, he bit into the fleshy part of the man’s hand, near the thumb.
The hand tightened around his face but didn’t move.

As the man pushed his way in, Aya arched,
throwing his head back. The pain was blinding but so was the pleasure. It was
still sex but in a whole new dimension for him. He revelled in the feel of the
man’s cock sliding in and out of him. When the initial pain of being entered
ebbed, the redhead couldn’t resist but pushed back to meet the man’s thrusts.

The man smiled. This was good. He sped up his thrusts, one hand
gripping one hip tighter while the other grabbed the swordsman’s weeping
erection and gave it several pulls. The smile turned into a smirk when the
slender man jerked once and moaned as he forcefully stroked his stiff member.

Aya’s arms were folded on the table,
his head resting on them as the man continued to pound into him. His moans were
getting weaker, he was getting tired. But the adrenaline and pleasure kept him
awake. One of his hands slid down to meet the other man’s hand that was on his
cock and he moved his hand according to the man’s, playing with himself in sync
with the man’s powerful thrusts.

It was too hot. He felt as if he’d just put his shaft near to a fire.
No, scrape that. His whole body felt as if it were on fire.

Then, it seemed as if the man struck something deep inside him. Aya’s eyes snapped open and he screamed, his head thrown
back as he came hard, ejaculating ribbons of semen onto their joined hands and
onto the table he was bent over with. He shuddered as he rode out the intense
orgasm, his body convulsing almost painfully. He moaned weakly and fell back
limply onto his folded arm that was still on the table while the stranger still
continued thrusting into him.

It didn’t matter anymore. He was exhausted. Aya
could feel his body shutting down slowly. He was still aware of the stranger’s
presence and how he was still pounding into him, but he didn’t care. As the
redhead slipped into a deep sleep that only fatigue could bring, he vaguely
felt warmth covering his insides.

-

“Aya?” a hand shook his shoulder. “Aya, get up.”

He groaned and tried to bat the hand away but stopped short when he
felt the immense pain that his head was in. “Wher’my?”
he slurred, shutting his eyes tighter before opening them a fraction slowly.

“Koneko. Couch.”
The hand left his shoulder. “Schwarz brought you in.”

At the mention of their enemies, Aya
struggled to sit up but gave up when he realised that he didn’t even moved a
muscle. Damn, he was tired.

“Yeah, I know. We wanted to know too how you into the hands of
Schwarz. They had Nagi holding us all immobile.”

“Disc?” Aya
mumbled, slipping slowly back into another sleep.

“Exactly what Kritiker want. Good thing
Schwarz didn’t get a hold on it. Doubt they even know.”

The redhead wasn’t awake to listen to the last sentence. He was fast
asleep again.

*Partial face mask – think about the mask that the guy in Phantom of
the Opera wore. That’s a partial face mask.

A/N: This is written for an LJ community, 30_lemons, under themes #1 Anonymity and #9 Sex and drugs. I'd like to thank my beta... hehe! And a big thank you to the readers and to those who reviewed "Swing". Thanx!

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. They belong to Project Weiss and their other proprietors.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Mission Masquerade