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I Hate Him	By : animegher Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 4320 -:- 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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Disclaimer: All characters and belong to WeiB Kruez and Koyasu Takehito… In the holiday Spirit (Evolution! …I love Digimon), let’s be nice and not sue!
Aya sucked in his stomach, pulling up his chest as he tightened the laces up, yanking the cords as hard as he could. The corset was tightened almost eye to eye, the black silk string lacing it tight around Aya’s body. He held his breath, tying a quick hard knot before he was forced to exhale. His body tightened painfully, his stomach constrained awkwardly by the corset.

He knew it made him look too thin, to try to tighten his figure anymore, but he needed it create the breasts and hips. Aya’s body had no curves to speak of, all sharp planes of bones and the muscle he had worked up again. Aya pulled the soft, elastic straps of the corset up on his shoulders, stretching the padded bra cups over his chest muscles. A bit high on his own nipples, but where a woman’s breasts would be. Aya slipped two small pads in the bra, working them until he had gained a realistic full chest.

Yohji wanted him to go all the way? Fine, then. Aya would do the worst he could, pulling on the silken black panties meant for a woman. Aya shoved himself in the small lacey underwear awkwardly, hiking them up on his hips. Next came the stockings. Aya pulled the thin, delicate black fishnets up over his legs, uncomfortably working them up his calves. Aya only got them up to his mid thigh before he latched the tops with the garter belt from the corset.

Aya picked up the black leather dress from the bed, stepping into it one foot at a time. He pulled it up on his legs, easily fitting through the waist. The soft, light leather stretched tightly around his body. He pulled up the zipper on the back, tightening the straight-cut tube top style of the dress around his chest. The top of the dress went up high in his armpits, which he had shaven for tonight. It was necessarily to look as feminine as possible, and no prostitute would allow herself a thick growth of arm hair.

Aya smoothed out the sides of the dress on his torso, adjusting the slightly higher left ‘breast.’ The leather had an inner lining of black, stretchy fabric that held tightly around Aya’s body so the leather could still bunch and stretch enticingly. He knew that the bra straps still showed, but it didn’t look entirely out of place unless one came close to him. Besides, hadn’t Yohji asked for him to do it as he did every night? Didn’t he ask for a whore?

The skirt dropped to his ankles, a long slit running up the side of his left leg up to the hip. A little bit dangerous to have a cut that could reveal everything in one small glance, but it was alluring and shaped his upper thigh and rear as he walked. The redhead flicked on the lights around the room, trying to illuminate the large, circular mirror held on a dark wood stand He needed light to make sure he put the damn stuff on straight.

He went to the dresser, where he had laid out all his makeup supplies. Aya didn’t want to try to sneak out around the hall after changing, so he had brought it all into his own room earlier that afternoon. At least he still had a lock on the door. He had asked Aya-chan earlier if he could use his room for this purpose. She had agreed almost too eagerly, as if she wanted them to go on a date. Aya thought it was to show that she approved of his relationship with Yohji.

He put on a light base of foundation on first, making sure to cover his face evenly. With an application of concealer, he hid the worst of his scars, like the rough patch of skin on his cheek that hadn’t healed quite evenly. The evidence of the beating would eventually go away, probably wouldn’t even be noticeable in a year. Aya didn’t want to take the chance that it would be visible, so he covered it with a dusting of light powder.

Aya applied the soft, silvery slate gray colored eye shadow to his lids, not quite dusting to his eyebrows. He didn’t want to look like a complete whore. He saw the way some of the other prostitutes did their make-up, all gaudy and flashy, done messily. Aya took time in his appearance. If he were going to have to ‘doll up,’ he would take the time to do it right.

He used a brush to put a sharp shock of dark wine the corner of his eyes. He saw it on the cover of a music magazine Omi had been looking through. The girl band featured didn’t tease Omi’s fancy, but Aya had studied the title page for a brief moment, taking in the technique of the makeup. Aya used it now, suggesting a sharp point of an icicle with the colored, glittery powder.

Aya traced his eyes with a liquid liner to hide their angular shape. A woman’s face was softer around the temples and cheeks than a man’s was. It was impossible to pretend any differently, but Aya could divert attention away from his masculine features. He applied mascara, lengthening the corner of his lashes. It made him look less… angry. It hid the wrinkles that had started to form around his eyes from constantly glaring.

The lipstick was the deepest red Aya had been able to find, so glossy that it reflected the light. It made his lips look fuller. Female. He dashed a bit of soft, rosy powder under his cheeks, trying to take away from the sharp dip of his face. He penciled in his eyebrows, not liking the way the hairs split. The fist to the eye had left him with a sharp scar where the eyebrow had been lost. It hadn’t started to grow back in yet, so Aya artificially straightened the brow.

He began to brush the top of his hair, smoothing down the fly-aways. He forced it to part straight down the middle of his head, styling the strands into place. After making sure he had his hair as tame as possible, Aya pulled off the top to a large cardboard box. He had stored most of his wigs in the closest, not choosing to leave them out and have someone discover it by chance. He left no labels on it, knowing which wig would be there because he had placed them in an order that would never change.

It was a medium length red wig that matched the color of his hair. It had been easy to point at his own head and say ‘this’ in a threatening fashion. The fool of a clerk had tried to hassle Aya about buying a wig for himself when it wasn’t even Halloween. All he had to do was glare hard and the man started to sweat, suddenly picture-perfect customer service.

He straightened the stretchy, hidden cap of the wig around his temples and back of his skull. He stuffed his infamous ear tails under the wig as well, not wishing to be recognizable tonight. Striking, yes, but not familiar. Aya ran his fingers through the fake hairs, combing them down into a more natural fashion around his face. When every strand fell to perfection, his arms felt numb from the loss of circulation. Ignoring the momentary discomfort, he continued to prepare. The clock was shining in the mirror, the red lights blinding his eyes with the time.

Aya fastened his sister’s earring on his left ear as usual; hoping that the connection he had formed with her through the piece of jewelry was still intact. He didn’t know if she even had the other matching piece anymore. Aya put a similar, cheaper earring in his other ear. He had pierced his other ear after some of his patrons were put off by the masculine, single earring style on a female whore, even though he was cross-dressing at their request. It had just been easier to sneak through the public by piercing his other ear and going all the way. People didn’t ask as many questions that way.

He put a thin, black velvet collar around his neck. Aya needed to pull off as much of a female image as he could without revealing his own sex in the process. It hid his Adam’s apple and some of the scarring on his neck left by the love bites that were still visible. The thin fabric fastened by slipping between the double belts that clasped together. Aya pulled it, allowing a bit of the band to sag from his neck. Trying to look alluring. He put two velvet cuffs over his wrists, straightening the elastic laces that pulled them closed. They hid the large, pink bands of damaged skin from that the metal cuffs had left behind.

Aya had done his nails earlier before dressing. No one would go out with his fingernails, torn and jagged from working in the shop. He felt embarrassed to walk around with the dirt under his nails when he was potting flowers. He carried a nail file with him to keep his fingers cleaned. He didn’t want to be reminded of the time when he had gotten splinters under his nails for trying to hit a customer.

Aya put a few rings on, hoping to hide his damaged fingers. He put a silver band with a heavy oval moonstone mounted on a metal base to hide the weaker, shattered knuckle. From when someone had stepped on his hand. Aya put a smaller, metal ring around his thumb from where there was a large scrape on them. It might have been from cutting himself trying to fight his bonds or from someone biting him there, he didn’t know. He vaguely remembered both.

Looking up, Aya examined himself in the mirror. Good, but not good enough. Not yet. He had to be perfect. Aya bent forward, opening up the blush and concealer again to make a shadow on his chest. Just a small hint of curve, painted on lightly enough to pass as real. Still, he didn’t look quite right, a bit too thin and too small of breasts. He was androgynous, leaning on a female side.

If he went through with this for Yohji, he would make sure to make it exactly like any other night. Aya took out a large, silver cross he had out on the dress. It was a piece of jewelry given to him by one of the girls at the shop. He hadn’t had the heart to refuse it, when the girl looked up at him with large, hopeful eyes, but he had told her what he told everyone, that he didn’t deserve to be loved. It was the truth, and it pushed the admirers away without hurting them. He didn’t want to spread his poison of shame and suffering to anyone else.

Aya tied the thick, simple black satin cord around his neck, letting the cross hang over the very edge of the dress. It weighed down the fabric just enough to curve it, like the valley the natural breasts would make. It was passing, Aya running a hand down his side to fix the way the dress wrinkled around his torso. Now he looked like a woman.

He went back to the bed, sitting down to step into the heels. He pulled on the thin, black stilettos, with their closed toes. They hid the ends of the stockings and gave him height comfortably, if not with stability. It was about look, and Aya fit it now. Men wouldn’t be able to walk in these. Aya could; he had spent hours practicing. He hadn’t dared to embarrass himself in public by taking obviously experimental steps like those that he had at first.

They were bound to his foot by a large, leather cuff that held up several tight, black strands of leather. They ran up from the heels of the shoes to Aya’s ankles, holding the soul to Aya’s feet. It had been embarrassing to ask for these shoes in the department store. He had cross-dressed just to go outside and buy the damn things. He wanted to hide it from everyone. No one needed to know about his life.

Lastly, Aya pulled on a heavy coat. It was like his old mission coat, cut to fall smartly down his legs, the heavy fabric going down to his ankles. The inner lining of the coat was a soft, thick fabric that would keep him exceptionally warm. Aya tied the belt around his waist, the woman’s style of a coat opening up on his chest as if he had breasts. Aya smoothed down the lapels on the front, the lining already warming his skin.

Aya took a breath, looking at the time guiltily. The digital clock on the bedside stand said he was fifteen minutes late. He decided he was ready. He couldn’t stall any longer, no matter how much he wanted to. He desperately did not want to do this. His courage had suddenly left him when he had looked over at the door. Maybe he wouldn’t have to face Aya-chan like this. Maybe Yohji wouldn’t force him to. It was a pathetic, childish hope, one last try at stopping the inevitable.

Aya crushed that dream miserably, striding out the door. He turned off the lights, just as he turned off that small little, wish to stay hidden in the room as long as possible. He sneered at that, knowing how ridiculous it was. Yohji would probably come to fetch him if he took much longer. Aya didn’t want to have to be called out like a child that was scared. He wasn’t frightened of this; he was just doing as he had promised Yohji.

Aya’s stilettos clicked loudly as he walked down the darkened staircase. The house was suspiciously quiet. He wondered where everyone else was. They had heard about the date, hadn’t they? Didn’t Yohji make him agree to that? He got to the end of the stairs, bewildered as he stood in the dark living room. Wasn’t he late?

The lights flicked on and Aya looked over at switch on the other side of the room. Aya-chan was standing next to the door, dressed in a large, black tuxedo. Aya thought it might be Ken’s from a formal soccer dinner. It didn’t fit her, being too large and cut for a man, but she had managed to make the rolled up sleeves and pants look cute. Aya-chan had a top hat on, looking like she was ready for a costume party. Aya stared at her in shock, and his sister returned the look tenfold.

"Brother?" Aya-chan asked in a breathy voice. She looked her brother up and down, her eyes trailing over the curves Aya had created. Her mouth was open in a round circle, staring at the slit on the dress and the mirage of breasts Aya had made. She gaped at her older brother, too shocked to even stop it as they heard two ‘taa-daa’s. Siblings looked over as Ken and Omi burst into the room from their hiding place in the entrance hallway to the door. As always, the two had the worst timing, but that wasn’t what made Aya’s jaw drop to match his sister’s.

Omi was a cutting figure, wearing his old high school’s uniform; however, it was the girls’ outfit. He must have borrowed it from someone. The pleated skirt brushed down Omi’s legs. The boy even had on oversized white socks, the folds falling over the top of his loafers. The blazer with large ribbon was perfect, and an obviously stuffed bra shocked Aya further. He couldn’t believe what the boy was wearing! He looked like a schoolgirl from head to toe, except for the fact that it was Omi.

Omi stared back at Aya, shock on his face as he noticed Aya’s full outfit and makeup. He hadn’t thought Aya would go to these lengths. The boy’s stare made Aya cringe in embarrassment, the silence that was taking the room stabbed at him like needles. What were they thinking of him? Why weren’t they saying anything? Aya looked over to Ken, hoping for some normality.

Aya was disappointed. Ken did not look quite as good as Omi; in fact, he was smiling in the drag that they all knew wouldn’t work on him. Ken was just too much of a guy to pull it off. They were trying to be nice, dressing up in woman’s clothing to ease Aya’s embarrassment. His eyes narrowed, looking Ken and Omi up and down. Aya was angry that they were trying to humiliate him like this, cheapening what he did... No, no, it wasn’t that, Aya reprimanded himself as he glanced at the three faces.

"Hey, hey," Ken sang out complimentarily. Aya felt sick, his stomach tightening with nausea. Ken smiled, the spaghetti-strap of the floral sundress falling off his shoulder. The bra stayed on, looking entirely out of place on Ken’s developed chest. He flashed out the victory sign, posing in a ‘seductive’ manner. It only made the large muscles in his legs stand out more, making it worse. Omi groaned at Ken, mortified at his boyfriend’s usual tactless manners.

Aya snickered, very softly. It was truly awful. But, it was so ridiculous and stupid that Aya couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. He had been scared shitless only moment ago, his stomach churning with the thought of Yohji looking at him in this state of dress. What did they think of him? He had done this in practiced accuracy, and they had done it as a joke so that he wouldn’t be embarrassed. It was more than Aya had been expecting. He had been prepared to bear the stares silently, but now he had fellows in his shame.

"Brother… you look really good," Aya-chan admitted in an awe-filled, soft voice. He didn’t even dare to look at her. He didn’t want to see his sister’s face as she looked at him. She had to be lying so that she wouldn’t hurt his feelings. Damn them all for trying to pretend that everything was fine. Aya wanted to run back to his room and hide. Hide forever in a darkness that no one would ever try to draw him out from again.

The doorbell rang out. Yohji must have been told to wait for the lights to turn on. How long had he been outside? Was he cold? It was supposed to be freezing out, perfect for Aya’s mood. Nobody moved to answer it as they all still gaped at him. Aya glanced over to the walkway as the door swung open anyway, unlocked.

"Excuse me…" Yohji said, sauntering lazily into the living room as though he didn’t need to apologize for his un-welcomed entrance. Yohji looked up in the entrance hall, glancing at Ken and Omi and laughed. Omi frowned as Yohji giggled at their appearance before Aya caught his attention.

Yohji went suddenly very quiet and emotionless as he stared at Aya, his eyes latched on to him. It felt like Yohji was touching him with that stare. Aya didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do to escape this. Yohji blinked up from staring at Aya’s shoes, his sunglasses gone for tonight. He had a large, wrapped dozen of red roses in one hand, hanging at his side as he stared at Aya.

"You’re beautiful," he said softly, walking forward. It made Aya want to melt into the floor, just drain away so he wouldn’t have to face him. He felt like a freak, a pervert under the gaze. How could Yohji say things like that to him? Didn’t Yohji have eyes? Ken, Omi, and even Aya-chan faded from his focus as Yohji lifted up the roses and held them up between their bodies.

"For the lady," he offered. Aya felt the heat suddenly rush to his face, hopelessly blushing. He didn’t know why it should bother him, but Aya felt himself suddenly feel embarrassed and inexperienced. He had never gotten flowers before. Aya took them slowly from Yohji’s hands, unable to meet his eyes. How humiliating. Why had Yohji suddenly seen it fit to gift Aya with a bouquet? That was for... a 'lady.'

Yohji was wearing a dark, black tuxedo that held tight to his body, the pants draping sharply down his legs. His shoes were black, shined leather, the smooth boots peeking out from under the hem of the slacks. The tuxedo tails went trimly down from his waist and ended in two, sharp lengths behind his knees.

He had a soft, red tie on his neck, tucked into the folds of the lapel. The color matched Aya’s hair. Yohji had the white collar of the shirt smooth around his neck, ironed and stiff. Yohji found a ruby pin for the tie, making sure it would stay in place on his chest. He wouldn’t look like some wrinkly greaser if he were taking Aya out. He would make this special for him.

A
Thank you," Aya murmured uncertainly. That’s what he should say, right? Yohji had even done his hair, styling the wild locks into a semblance of ordered waves. Yohji had a large, gold hoop in his left ear, hoping to set off the red of the tie. He wanted it to look good for Aya. This was supposed to be his night. Yohji was going to show him that everything was all right... That was how it was supposed to go, right? Aya wasn’t sure anymore.

Aya didn’t know what to do next, his hands tightening around the flowers. Yohji probably made the bouquet himself. Aya-chan smiled at the Yohji’s gentlemanly actions, seeing that he was being dashing and handsome. It didn’t matter to her that her older brother was being hit on by a man, and was prepared to go out in a woman’s white dress.

"Could I take a picture, Aya-kun?" Omi smiled, asking in a wide, open manner.

Ken laughed and held out the camera like a magic trick. Omi took it, holding up the camera and looking at Aya for permission. The bastard had loaded it with new film. They had prepared for this night. Aya felt outnumbered, forced into this happy, domestic activity.

"No!" Aya hissed in embarrassment, Yohji grinning at the reaction. Yohji thought it was all a good joke. He wasn’t sure, thinking that it might be used as blackmail later. Wasn’t Yohji going to say anything? Aya looked to him, very vulnerable and scared but ready to die before letting anyone know. Who would develop this film? Wouldn’t they know he was a whore? That he was man? Yohji put an arm around Aya’s shoulders, kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Oh, Ran, please? Can he take some pictures?" Aya-chan begged. Aya’s eyes widened. Why did she want one? Didn’t she know what he was doing? Was this what being in love was supposed to be like? Aya was starting to panic with all the questions, all the attention. Wasn’t his sister ashamed of him?

"It’ll be fine… Only if you say its okay," Yohji whispered into Aya’s ear, his lips touching the curve of the skin. Yohji squeezed Aya’s shoulder, pulling him back against his chest. Like it would all ‘be fine.’ Aya leaned into the support. Yohji was there, real and breathing, something to hold on to.

"If…if Aya-chan wants one," Aya murmured, unable to refuse his sister. Aya-chan smiled, clapping her hands together. Yohji kissed the side of Aya’s hair, taking a deep breath through his nose- smelling him. Aya opened his mouth to tell Yohji to back off but the man had already pulled away.

"Let me take it off," Yohji whispered heavily into Aya’s ear. He put two large hands on Aya’s shoulders, on top of the coat. Aya was frozen for a moment as Yohji continued to pull off the coat, stripping Aya as anything he could hide himself with. At least with the coat they hadn’t seen the slit.

Ken came forward, holding out his hands. Aya hesitantly handed Ken the bouquet so he could take his arms out of the coat. He didn’t want to take it off. He didn’t want them to see this. But, he had agreed to it. Yohji was already pulling the coat away and handing it to Ken, who was staring openly at Aya’s thigh. Jumping, Ken handed the flowers back to Aya, slinking away from the picture guiltily. The bastard should wear such a face after drooling over his hip like that!

"Thank you, thank you!" Aya-chan bowed in gratitude as Omi took one picture of Aya blinking as he awkwardly stood next to Yohji. They were ignoring it, pretending to pay no attention to the fact that he was dressed to be fucked. The flash blinded Aya, making him shake his head and take a step back to try and clear his vision. Yohji laughed, his voice rumbling against Aya’s back. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the wide, circular lens of the camera. The device flashed again, bright in Aya’s face.

Omi smiled, moving around to take a better shot. Yohji adjusted the front of his jacket, pulling his shoulders back. He smiled down at Aya; suddenly so much larger and braver then Aya could ever be in public. Even though these people were his relatives and his brothers in arms, Aya felt alone and removed from them.

"Come on, stand up," Yohji whispered down at Aya’s head. Aya looked up at Yohji’s smiling, welcoming face. Uncertainly, Aya adjusted his feet, tilting up his chin as he took on his real height. He was a little bit shorter then Yohji, not even with the blonde’s hair yet. Yohji grinned, proud of him. Aya smiled weakly, looking up once in embarrassment. Nobody was frowning at him, cursing him. They were all smiling.

Aya adjusted the flowers in his arms, looking up at the camera comfortably. He didn’t embarrass Yohji. Yohji thought Aya looked good. He had said so himself. Aya didn’t feel afraid as the next picture was taken. Yohji let the hand drop from the shoulder to the hip, taking another pose on.

"Okay, last one, I promise!" Omi swore, counting down. Aya let his shoulders relax. He might as well try to look good in a picture, if they wanted them so badly. He couldn’t fight it now. They already had several, so what would be the harm in enjoying one or two? Yohji was making it all right. Yohji was his relief from their stares. From his own fear.

"Well, we better be on our way," Yohji laughed, grabbing the coat from Ken. Aya looked down at the bouquet, unsure of what to do. Did he really want to save this? Keep it around to remind him of this night? What if something went wrong? Something always went fucking wrong. It was just his luck.

"I’ll put the flowers in some water, Aya-kun," Omi offered, stepping forward to take the flowers. Aya reluctantly gave them away, unsure of what he should do with his hands now. Ken offered him a nonjudgmental smile. Aya didn’t want to leave the house and go out into the night with Yohji. He didn’t know what was going to await them, ready to attack. He was paranoid, but why not when there was so much reason to be?

"Thank you, squirt," Yohji said, shamelessly teasing the boy even though it was

one of the tensest moments in Aya’s life. He couldn’t believe how comfortable Yohji was, taking Aya’s hand in his. The redhead smiled up weakly at Yohji’s face. This wouldn’t hurt him, would it? Yohji wouldn’t make Aya do anything he didn’t want to. Aya was safe with Yohji. The blonde led them out toward the door, where his car and the whole city awaited. What could Yohji have planned?

A
Have a good night, Ran!" Aya-chan called after them. Aya followed Yohji’s tugging out the door, waving back to his sister. The fog had set in, thick and wet in the cold air. The headlights of the car shone with small auroras in the heavy mist. Yohji must have left it running. It was cold and hard to walk on the wet, slick pavement. He held onto the hand in his, feeling the warmth in Yohji’s palm.

Yohji opened up the door for Aya, gesturing him into the car. It was by far the most gentlemanly gesture ever extended to Aya before. He stepped into the warm car, overtaken by Yohji’s sudden chivalry. The blonde closed the door behind Aya, walking around the front in a dance between the two headlights. Aya stared at the blonde’s progress, amazed that the man could have suddenly changed so much. Why did he seem so much more… romantic right now? Aya felt like he was being smothered by charm.

"You ready for the best night of your life?" Yohji asked, jumping into the driver’s side. He smiled widely at Aya, who blushed under the attention and turned away, his brows pulling together under the perfectly styled red hair. It was a wig, a shoulder length red wig that had blown him away. Yohji glanced at the white curve of Aya’s jaw, hypnotized by the slight sway of the long earring. Aya knew he had achieved his desired effect by the wide lusty look on the blonde’s face.

"You wish," Aya scoffed as Yohji pulled on his seatbelt. He didn’t want to give Yohji that much gratification. Not yet. Where would that leave Aya? It wouldn’t do to admit that he was already flattered more now then he had ever been his life. His experience with dating was painfully short and disastrous. He looked forward down the foggy road, noticing that the windows were starting to bead with moisture from the heavy mist.

"Oh, come on, don’t shoot me down before we start," Yohji begged, as he pulled out slowly in the snow. He flicked on the wipers for the windshield and Aya stared as the moisture was scraped away. Yohji obeyed the road laws when there were hazardous driving conditions, and if it was his car. Yohji had a tendency to drive well if he was concerned about the vehicle.

"You deserve it. You’ve probably done this a hundred times," Aya accused, almost offended, but Yohji was just teasing him. The blonde wasn’t trying to upset Aya, not intentionally. He knew not pointing out sore points they both knew the redhead had. He was getting mad over nothing, reacting when there was nothing happening.

"No, I’ll admit, I haven’t done anything quite like this before," Yohji swore to Aya, as he started driving slowly down the road. The music on the radio was a soft, rock and roll beat, very old and familiar. Aya thought he recognized it from when he was younger and more interested in music than he had been in improving fighting skills. Funny that it should come on now, such an old song.

"Never had a whore before?" Aya asked, not meaning to be vulgar. He just didn’t want to be vague about the point. They both knew what he was. Aya looked out the window, glancing up at the streetlights and the blazing neon signs of the business district. The traffic tonight was surprisingly heavy for the weather as Yohji went across town, taking Aya toward a more high-class district. Not that Aya wasn’t acquainted with them. He was very familiar with that side of town, in fact.

"You’re not a whore. Not tonight," Yohji suddenly stated, swearing this to Aya. Aya looked over at the man’s face in surprise. He had been so vehement about it. Did this mean he was offended that Aya had brought it up? Embarrassed by him? The blonde smiled at him, open and honest.

"You’re my very special date," Yohji swore, managing to keep the mood jovial. Aya laughed a bit at that, smirking into his knuckles as he pressed his fist to his face, leaning toward the window. Yohji really did think he was something, all right. He wouldn’t show off his humor to the man though. Why encourage the idiocy?

"Should I be rolling at your feet over that one?" Aya mused aloud, lazily rolling his eyes toward the night crowd, looking at the people walking by. Aya wondered what their lives were like, the faceless wave of different hair, different clothes went by the window. They didn’t kill and they didn’t sell their bodies. They hadn’t sold their souls at a low rate. The public was lambs, innocent and sweet. They could smell when wolves went through their ranks, people glaring at Aya as he walked by automatically. He paid back the favor tenfold.

"No, I didn’t think a classy lady like yourself would be an easy tumble. That’s why I got reservations at Celestial MoonY
You like that place, right?" Yohji asked. It was a small dinner place on the corner of town with dancing, ridiculously high class for its location in downtown Tokyo. It was notoriously busy with waits that could go on for hours unless you had a connection.

"It’s alright," Aya agreed lazily. He had been there before, with an ambassador of some sort. Nothing new really. The place hadn’t been too dreadful for him. The date had been surprisingly restrained, taking Aya to a meal before they did it. Apparently, the man had thought Aya was too skinny. The food had been good, really, but Aya couldn’t help throwing it up later. The man had just driven too hard into Aya, making him feel weak and sore. The man had left Aya bleeding and vomiting on the bathroom floor of the hotel with the money on the foot mat in front of the bathtub.

"Just ‘alright?’ Boy, you are going to be harsh tonight," Yohji cooed. Aya shrugged. He didn’t care, really. What could Yohji do about it? This would be just like any other night, right? Yohji would have to make it something extremely remarkable to have Aya take notice. He couldn’t be impressed by everyday antics.

"You’ve never had to work this hard with anyone, have you? You’re just used to them falling at your feet over a good line or two," Aya accused, not really in anger. It was the truth. Yohji and he were two different people. They couldn’t imagine otherwise. Aya wouldn’t delude himself like that. How could they belong together? Yohji would leave him, soon enough. That was how Aya’s life went. Tragedy was looming, as certain as the fact that he would one day die and no longer think about these things.

A
Oh, no, sometimes it would take up to four good phrases," Yohji estimated, thinking hard on the subject. Aya groaned at the self-flattery. Yohji was always more comfortable than him. Yohji was used to dealing with people. Aya still didn’t like crowds. He wondered too much about what they thought of him; he was too self-consensus that his own secrets would bleed out.

"Just dinner and dancing?" Aya accused. Yohji smiled, shaking his head. Aya raised an eyebrow. What was the bastard planning? What plot had he cooked up to make this special to Aya? He knew Yohji would try his damnedest to romance the hell out of him. It would be easier if he could hear what was coming up, so he could prepare himself to not be impressed.

A
Oh no, I wouldn’t imagine. So blasé," Yohji admonished, continuing to drive slowly in the foggy city. They had already left home far behind, moving through the nightlife unnoticed. Aya could see a few couples, some real, some fake. All of them wandered the streets. They passed by late businessmen and younger punks; nobody pointed at their progress.

"So, what are you planning?" Aya asked, turning in his seat to face Yohji. The slit slipped a bit, riding up uncomfortable; however, only the slight cross of his thighs was visible through the fall of the coat. It would be all right once he stood up. The car was almost uncomfortably warm with the already stifling coat, but Aya winced at how cold it might be outside.

"That… is a secret," Yohji quipped mysteriously. Aya sighed at the teasing. Yohji just smiled at him, grinning as they pulled into a parking lot. Really, what could he have possibly planned? If Yohji tried to touch him during dinner, Aya would kill the man. There would be no questions or regrets, just punishment for daring to move so fast.

Yohji found a spot, pulling in between two other dark sports cars. He grinned as he turned off the engine, setting it in park. Yohji put his hand on top of Aya’s when he went to undo the seatbelt. Aya looked up at the blonde’s face, wondering what he had done wrong.

"Wait, I’m going to open the door for you," Yohji said excitedly, jumping out his side of the car. Yohji slammed the door, running around side of the car to Aya’s door. Aya popped the seatbelt, shaking his head as Yohji held the door open for him. This was unexpected. Nobody was polite to him. That was stupid. It was the simplest, basic of things. How could Yohji expect to seduce him with just that?

"Really, you don’t have to do all this," Aya snorted. He didn’t need someone trying to treat him like he was special. Now, it only served to embarrass him as Aya stayed in the car. He just felt humiliated, like everyone was staring at him, even though the parking lot was deserted. Yohji smiled, waiting for Aya to step out. He wasn’t going to move until Aya accepted the fact that Yohji would be holding the door open.

"I want to," Yohji said indifferently as Aya stepped out. He adjusted the coat, pulling it around him at the cold as Yohji locked the doors behind them with the remote. He slipped the keys into his coat, going up to Aya and offering up his arm. Aya looked down at it, wondering if he should accept it.

"Come on, indulge me," Yohji begged in a sarcastic manner, holding out his arm again. Aya sighed, indifferently looping one arm over the blonde’s own. It didn’t matter, one way or another. Really, he didn’t care. How ridiculous for Yohji to be so overt about it. Aya couldn’t be moved, one way or another. Yohji would be satisfied if he played along with this act of being a couple.

So, what was it if he leaned against Yohji’s shoulder for a moment, letting their bodies stay together as they walked along the parking lot? What would Yohji do about it? Hit him? Aya could sneer at that. He could react to anger. This kind, courteous sort of date was something Aya didn’t know about. It could go so wrong. Wouldn’t it? Why wasn’t Yohji disgusted with him?

Aya glanced up at the name of the no doubt expensive establishment Yohji had chosen. The line was out the door already with dozen of Tokyo’s upper class citizens trying to crowd into the heated waiting entrance hall. Aya glanced up at the neon sign above the door. Celestial Gardens was the name of the restaurant. He had heard of it before. Aya didn’t have enough fingers on his hands to count all the awards the place had won in citywide ‘best of’ competitions.

"Here we are," Yohji announced, pulling Aya into the restaurant. The doorway was full and Yohji had to fight his way through the crowd, excusing his progress. Aya followed behind, a bit reluctantly as people looked at Aya’s obviously attractive outfit. He felt like they were staring at him, through the clothes and at the piece of flesh between his legs that could ruin it all.

Yohji tugged them toward the host stand, excusing himself as he dragged Aya in his wake. The redhead wound up behind him, taking a few small steps to gain back his balance. The restaurant was busy, loud and warm. Perfect for Yohji, so busy and public that they could be lost in the crowd. The kind of place Aya would rather die before entering. He was embarrassed, twisting his head around to see if anyone was laughing at him.

* * *

"Oh, Mister Kudoh, welcome," the host greeted as Yohji stepped up. He smiled in fake familiarity. The host laughed, taking up two menus for them already, regardless of the line at the door. Yohji had called in early that afternoon, leaving a description of what he would be wearing at the front desk and a credit card number. He waved a hand, the flash of a twenty on his palm and the unspoken promise of more. Yohji had already paid a fortune for the reservation.

"I’ll always have a table for my good friend, Yohji. How have you been?" the man greeted, leading the blonde and redhead through the crowd. Yohji and Aya weren’t over-dressed as they worked between people and standing lines. The whole place was packed with heavy, rich high society, older businessmen and younger, smarter women. Other people were dressed in even more expensive and fashionable outfits then what they were wearing. They didn’t necessarily look better though, Yohji though, looking back at Aya. Definitely the most beautiful thing there.

The crowd groaned at the swift seating of this new arrival, Yohji shook the man’s hand as if they were good friends. Yohji passed the bill between them easily, discretely out of Aya’s sight. He would make sure to hide this little bribing from Aya’s trained eyes. Aya looked back at the people arguing his and Yohji’s ‘good fortune,’ sending out a sudden glare at the well-to-do couples. A gasp rippled through the crowd, these inexperienced, normal citizens not used to Aya’s threatening looks.

A
Good, good. Thanks for fitting us in," Yohji said gratefully, pulling out one more twenty to this man as he took Yohji’s outer coat. Yohji stepped forward, taking the back of Aya’s coat from him before he could slip it further down his back. The host stared at the redhead’s gorgeous leather dress and those two wonderfully sexy bra straps that went over his shoulder. Aya looked like the most high-class whore one could find, a professional escort service.

"It’s no problem for such a great friend," the host assured, bought and paid for. Aya sat down, sitting in the middle of the far booth seat. The benches were really meant for four people, the deep red padded seats meant to have two on each side. Yohji supposed it was the only table they had kept cleared in his name for the time he had left. It would be fine, dark and toward a secluded corner of the restaurant. They weren’t by any doors or main avenues, so it would be just fine.

"Thanks," Yohji nodded to the host, hoping the man would be appeased with his tip so far. Yohji had money saved up, not finding anything too remarkable to spend it on, but that didn’t mean he have to spend every penny. He considered Aya a good investment though and had transferred a large amount to his checking account for tonight.

Yohji had even asked Omi to put a bit of money in his account from a sudden fund for a missing person investigation. It seemed a certain former law officer had turned up missing earlier in the day and already there was a large account in the name of investigating the disappearance. Usually the police waited a few days before declaring someone missing. Yohji knew that very well, having tried many times before to report a kidnapping or worse and getting no help.

That department of the law had a large amount of liquid funds sitting by their lonesome, untouched by the people who had collected the bribes and money from protected illegal activities. Yohji would never let perfectly good payoffs go to waste. Omi had been more than eager to hack in after seeing Aya scared and helpless from their visitor earlier in the same morning. Aya had been incapacitated on the floor of their store with a dick in his face. Recalling the look of fear on Aya’s face made anyone angry.

Yohji slid into the same side of the booth, plopping down next to Aya like he belonged there, and who was to say he didn’t? He grinned at his warm companion as he sat with his hip touching Aya’s on the bench. Aya glared up at Yohji, scooting over to put distance between them. The host smiled warmly, giving them their menus and ignoring Aya’s obvious discomfort. Even though he looked like a prostitute. Aya took his menu gracefully, not opening it yet as Yohji took his own.

"Your waiter will be over in a moment," the host assured, walking away from the table. Yohji turned to Aya, grinning. Never mind Aya’s cold attitude, the whole thing was surreal. Yohji wasn’t quite sure if it was a dream. Aya was a guy, and yet it was the same as hitting on a girl. Yohji felt so criminal that it was getting a rush at the same time. He had been right to try to date Aya, to court him like he was the truly exceptional person he was. If he wore that dress again, Yohji would be more then happy.

"What are you thinking?" Yohji asked, curious to the redhead’s thoughts. It had been ridiculously easy to sneak past the front door, and nobody suspected that Aya wasn’t a woman. Aya turned to Yohji. He looked very annoyed that he had been forced to share his side of the table.

"Hey guys, my name’s Masa. I’ll be your waiter tonight. You want something to drink, to start off?" A voice suddenly exploded into Yohji’s ear. Yohji was so startled by the man he surprised himself when he didn’t even jump out of his seat. He had felt like someone had shot a gun in his ear. He had let his guard down because he was staring at Aya and thinking of his lately inactive libido. Well, with partners at least. He had gotten acquainted with the right hand sooner then he thought he would. Relationships like that seemed to form when one was desperate.

Yohji turned to the voice with a smile plastered on his face. It was a young man with a crisp black t-shirt fitting snuggly around the younger man’s body. Probably some college boy with a great nighttime job that his parents had gotten for him. It had to be if someone so young was working in a stylish restaurant like this. The boy looked suspiciously charming, probably alerted to the fact of a big tipper by the other waiters.

"Could we get a Strawberry Margarita for the ladyY
And a Sea Breeze, extra hard," Yohji ordered, listing off the ridiculously over-priced specialty drinks. He would let Aya be a spoiled rotten drinker, if that’s what he liked. Aya had admitted to a weakness for the sweeter specialty alcohol mixes. Yohji didn’t let things like that slip his memory.

"Sounds good. I’ll be back to grab your order," Masa informed them, scribbling down the drinks. Yohji smiled, feeling rather proud of himself. He felt so wired, so alive. The murmur of the restaurant was a distant thing compared to the sound of Aya sighing and putting his elbow on the table to rest his chin in his hand. He looked at Yohji in a resigned sort of disgust, no longer up to arguing with him.

"Do you know what you’re going to get?" Yohji asked. Aya opened up the menu lazily; he glanced down at the menu like it was tremendously dull. The little flirt was bored? Yohji smiled, doing his best to see past the attitude. Was this how cold Aya had been to all his customers? Yohji wondered how Aya had ever gotten along, having to pretend he wanted the sex.

"Whatever you want. It doesn’t really matter," Aya waved dismissively, dropping his menu on the table. "Do you have to sit so close? They’ll think something of it," Aya hissed, leaning in so he could whisper. It wouldn’t do to have any of the bystanders hear of this whole operation. Besides, if anyone heard Aya’s distinctively baritone voice, they would know immediately what sex he was.

"Doubting yourself already? Come on, Aya, we already got past the door. What are you scared of now?" Yohji reasoned, knowing he was pushing certain buttons. Aya would never admit to being a coward and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Aya most certainly did not doubt his skills or his ability to pull this off. Yohji could tell by Aya’s lips set in a hard straight line. Yohji smiled insolently, knowing it would only piss Aya off further.

"I’m not scared of you," Aya sneered, making it sound like Yohji was the most blasphemous, predominant sinner of the era. The wig curled around his face, shaping his chin as the man glowered at him underneath the sweep of those thick lashes. Did he know how beautiful he could be when he was angry? Yohji had learned to appreciate Aya’s features even when he was pissed, because that was the mood the redhead was in most of the time.

"I love it when you say such sweet things," Yohji sighed, batting his eyes like he was really flattered. The only reason Aya didn’t have his hands around Yohji’s neck right now was because the restaurant was a public place. Too many people would try to stop him if he killed Yohji right now. Yohji knew how Aya thought, his fists tight on the table.

"Give me that," Aya demanded, suddenly snatching the open menu from Yohji’s hand. Yohji noticed the red nails on Aya’s hand, dangerously matching his hair and lips. Aya popped it open, scanning the items with a fierce, quick glare. Yohji looked on for a moment, his hand still holding the absent menu.

"You have your own menu," Yohji pointed out, not trying at all to be rude to his ladylove. Aya didn’t respond, still going down the line of entrees. His eyes flicked over to Yohji once, just a small, assessing look that told Yohji nothing. Really, how was a man supposed to deal with this? He sighed, grabbing the menu in front of Aya on the table.

"Here’s your drinks, sir," Masa came back, very prompt in service for his guests. Masa set the tall, thin frosted glass filled with an iced blue tonic in front of Yohji. He looked down, thankful for the quick service. One could never go too long without alcohol when it was a date with good old icicle-up-the-ass Aya.

"Miss," Masa said suavely, setting the large, oversized margarita in front of the redhead. Aya looked down at it dismissively, scorning the impressive serving. It was obviously not the small one from the picture on the menu Yohji had ordered. The bright pink blended mixture was dull to Aya’s own hair and large, red lips. What a nice waiter he was. This man was milking it hard for a big tip.

"Thanks. Well, I think she’s ready to order, the sweet little thing," Yohji complimented, grinning at his less-then-loving dinner date. Aya glared pure death at Yohji, visibly trying hard to rein in the desire to kill. There was nothing more frustrating than being forced to deal with a person you could kill in less then five minutes. Yohji was familiar with the desire to choke Aya to death. He could only imagine what the redhead was feeling right now.

"The New York steak, medium rare, dinner salad with a vinaigrette," Aya ordered rapidly, his voice only slightly higher in tone than usual. It was enough to make by with. Masa wrote down the order furiously, knowing better then to ask a woman to repeat herself. Especially one like Aya.

"The… Risotto… Keyleigh…," Yohji trailed off the words as he looked down the list. There it was. Yohji glanced down at Aya’s order, noting that it was easily the most expensive item on the menu. Yohji folded it up, handing it to Masa with a weak grin. What the hell had he ordered?

"You don’t even like red meat," Yohji accused sorely. He knew that Aya had ordered this out of concern for Yohji’s pocket, not out of an appetite. Aya smiled up, though there really wasn’t any humor in his eyes. Just a satisfaction that he had gotten Yohji, one way or another.

"So, what? Maybe I wanted it tonight," Aya snapped fussily, turning his shoulder toward Yohji. God, was it really too much to ask for Aya to not be such a pain in the ass, just one fucking time? Oh, Yohji had been prepared to pay top dollar, certainly. What pissed him off was that Aya was just exploiting that, being as high-priced a whore he could manage.

"You don’t do this to all the men, right?" Yohji asked, tired all ready. How was he going to manage the rest of evening if he was constantly dodging Aya’s insults, trying just to make it special for the man? This was supposed to be the most amazing night in Aya’s life. Couldn’t he for once give him a fucking break and stop tearing at Yohji’s pride?

"Just you," Aya said mysteriously. Yohji glanced up, seeing a small, secretive grin on Aya’s face. Oh… shit… Was this how Aya flirted with him? That heavy blow to Yohji’s bank account was really just a tease? Yohji sighed, totally defeated. He couldn’t outmaneuver someone like this. Aya got off because Yohji would rise to the bait, every time.

"Just who’s taking whom out?" Yohji sneered aloud, wondering if this was really a sick joke now. Aya continued on to play a bit, talking about small things, like the store and the state of the kitchen… And it suddenly turned around to Yohji admitting he had done a small amount of coke in high school. Aya managed to get little details out of him without Yohji even knowing what he was admitting to. It was engaging, infuriating as Yohji kept on trying to stay aloof and failing.

Their food came in a flash, and Masa rushed off with the empty glasses for a refill. Aya selected a different drink and Yohji opted for a refill of his earlier beverage. It had already given him a fine buzz. He looked down at his own plate, relieved that it looked like some kind of meat in a fine sauce with lots of garnish.

They began to work through the food and drink, a small word here and there. Aya would occasionally grunt an agreement with the things Yohji said as they watched the people go by, pointing out the odd couples and obnoxious drunks. He smiled, starting to relax as Aya loosened up a bit, not snapping his head off so much as the night wore on.

Once again, it proved to be a manner of endurance. If Yohji could sit through Aya’s original insults, he would be rewarded by the man growing comfortable and loosen up a bit. He started to actually say full sentences, showing off a dark, bitter wit. And incredible insecurity with himself, not at all like the Aya he knew from before the rape.

Really, it was enjoyable to sit there with Aya like they were a normal couple. The man had finally relaxed enough to laugh when Yohji pointed out a boy being dumped by an obviously superior woman. It was fun, but it was also unfair this was the only way they could do it. Only when Aya dressed up like a woman could Yohji put his arm around the redhead’s shoulder and not have to listen to people hiss and ridicule. Nobody said anything when he put a small kiss on the side of Aya’s temple.

The man was getting a little bit lightheaded, not as cold as he had been when they had first entered the place. He bent toward Yohji, no longer moving away when Yohji slid over until their legs touched. He stared down at the leg revealed by the slit in Aya’s dress, white and shaved before the black stockings crisscrossed his thigh.

The night wove on, the band striking up a new song. The dancing was visible down the walkway from Yohji and Aya’s booth in the corner. The two of them watched the soft, untainted couples dance and laugh as they spun around on the floor. It wasn’t very big. The large, wide raised platform had gilded, metal pipe fences keeping it from the dining area. It was all horribly fancy, rich, and classic and Yohji laughed at it all, watching Aya’s as he finished off a small, lime green margarita through a straw.

"You want to dance?" Yohji asked suddenly, hoping that they might get to try again. This wasn’t a crowded dance floor like the club. Here, he could see what Aya could really do if they danced. Yohji was already looking forward to it, praying the redhead was drunk enough to agree. He wanted to see more of Aya’s leg, more of his skin that was revealed by the dress. Yohji wanted to stare at Aya’s shoulder blade, because that’s what he wanted to look at later tonight when he could pound into the man for as long as he could manage.

"Maybe," Aya murmured, looking at the tables pushed up the dancing floor. The tables were not quiet as tall as the square rise of the dance floor. The diners were sitting dangerously close if someone fell from the stage. Aya watched as people danced, his eyes glassy and unreadable as he focused on the various’ couples movements. Yohji drank in the look of concentration Aya gave the unaware dancers, studying ever feature.

Well, Aya hadn’t given him a ‘fuck no’ and it was the closest to ‘yes’ he would ever get. Yohji stood up, out from under the table, feeling a bit of the alcohol as he swayed for a moment. Then, the world righted itself and Yohji didn’t feel quite as drunk. Aya slid out of the booth gracefully, following behind. Yohji took a step back, allowing the man some room as he stood up on the heels. Aya’s legs were so incredibly thin and shapely, even more so defined because of those stockings and garters, catching Yohji’s eye as he stepped out of the booth.

"I said I would, didn’t I?" Aya questioned back, suddenly defensive. Yohji sighed, extending his arm out to Aya. Don’t react to it, Yohji reminded himself. Aya took the elbow; placing one cold, hand on Yohji’s arm. They moved to the dance floor as the band began to play a classical tango on the string instruments. Yohji supposed the music would be alright as he led them onto the not quite empty floor. The several other couples were spaced out well enough to give them room as Yohji took up a dance stance.

Aya held himself poised in front of Yohji, putting a hand on his shoulder. Aya allowed the other one to be taken in by Yohji’s grip. His hands felt suddenly dry, callused, and old against Aya’s smooth fingers. He felt in danger of breaking Aya, hurting those delicate hands with their fake red tips. Aya was the first to take a step, Yohji having to follow for a moment as they started to dance.

Yohji again wondered if Aya had taken dance lessons before. There was something very confident, very skilled in the way Aya carried himself. One toe slid out on the floor, arching in gracefully as Aya’s long straight leg was revealed by the slit on the dress. Yohji stepped back, Aya taking short, weaving strides as he followed. It was hypnotic to see one ankle flash out, the cut of the dress falling away to show Aya’s knee and upper thigh. The delicate, black fishnets redhead was wearing were visible below the end of the slit. Amazing, really, for a proud man like Aya to wear that.

Yohji swung Aya under his arm, pushing at the redhead’s hip in a signal to go. Aya spun easily under his arm like a fine courtesan, a flash of the bare lily skin on his back hypnotic. It was such a change to have a sensitive partner that followed cues instantly. Aya was an incredible dancer; he focused on his movements and had stopped trying to pick a fight with Yohji.

The crowd was watching. They should. Yohji liked it, his own egotism stroked by the fact they had become the center of attention. Aya’s hand was held under his own, pressing back softly as they moved back and forth. Aya took small, delicate steps on either side of Yohji’s leg, landing his hip on Yohji’s groin every other time. Yohji wondered if Aya knew exactly what a sight he was making right now.

Yohji looked at the chest underneath him, swearing that Aya did have a set of breasts there. It was impossible, but at the same time, it was soothing to Yohji. A man shouldn’t know how to dance this well, in the woman’s role. Yohji put a hand on Aya’s hip as they took a few sweeping sidesteps. They cut through the other slow, boring dancers, weaving a path between the other clumsy, vagrant couples. Yohji knew they looked good, felt it in his head with a sick passion. He was vain, egotistical, and all with very good reason. He was the one dancing with Aya, no one else.

The other couples began to pull to the sides, giving them a bit of space as Aya flew around. Yohji let Aya complicate the moves as he wanted, accommodating when Aya rolled over Yohji’s hip, catching onto Yohji’s shoulders again to stand against him. Aya was good, excellent in fact. Yohji felt the envy of everyone’s eyes; glad he had taken those dancing lessons with Mimi so many years ago.

That experience was coming in handy now, so he could keep up with Aya's fast, weaving steps. Yohji didn’t think a guy could move like that, in the same, alluring way a woman could roll her hips. It was disorientating and kind of a weird, perverted rush. He was the only one who knew Aya’s real sex. Everyone else thought Aya was a woman. Yohji knew that the bra was there for no good reason.

They could be fine together, like this. They could dance and not be looked on as freaks. If people glanced over, they would not see two men together. It was thrill to get away with it, cheating the public of the chance to mock and leer, and Aya was damn good at it. He was straight and poised as a board when Yohji rolled the red head off his thigh. One bare leg on the right, the dress riding up to barely cover Aya’s other leg. It was immodest, vulgar, and the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever seen in his life.

Aya’s face wasn’t even sweating as he gracefully flowed around the dance floor like water. That icy façade had melted away with the heat of the moment, getting caught up in dancing. The make-up was still perfect, the red lips full and glistening with the dim lighting on the dance floor. His chest and arms were no longer as pale, barely death warmed over color, but starting to glow with the exercise. Healthy. Flushed. The man had even shaved his armpits. Yohji could swear that Aya had turned into a woman; despite the fact he knew that most definitely wasn’t the case.

Yohji shook his head, distracted by the feeling of their bodies pressed close together, the dance a step away from actual sex. Yohji didn’t care if the other fellow restaurant patrons watched. He’d have sex on the floor if Aya would let him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the thoughts from leading to an erection. Everything Aya did made Yohji think of sex, of no longer having the patience with playing around the redhead’s boundaries. Yohji wanted to pounce again, just to see Aya rocking under him, moaning a bit. Yohji wanted to hear what Aya would sound like without a hand in his mouth.

Yohji wondered if was too much to slip his knee in between Aya’s thighs. Apparently it wasn’t, because immediately Aya plastered his body against Yohji’s chest, sliding down softly onto his leg. It wasn’t the thing to do in a high-class place like this and who better to do it then the only cross dresser in the joint. The violin in the orchestra trilled, the player obviously distracted by Aya’s move.

Aya bent back, smiling slightly. He was the same as Yohji, getting the same kick. It was an act, a perfect disguise, and he was getting away with it. Of course, Aya knew he would. Aya had confidence in his skills. Yohji wasn’t sure what he should be confident in, only going as himself. Aya was going as the person he made himself up to be, the female side he had shown around the town.

It was an easy thing to stand there as Aya danced around him, smooth and limber in all of the gestures. Strange to see him so sure-footed in those dangerous heels. It sang fucking no ends to Aya’s sense of balance. Of perfection. Yohji had begun to qualify Aya as everything he could possibly want, unable to think of the women gathering around the edge, hoping to change partners.

Aya spun under his arms, but didn’t come back. Yohji looked up to see Aya crushed painfully close to an older man. The stranger had greased back hair that made him resemble a motorcycle punk. But, this man had to be in his forties, fifties, so there was no way he was still fooling around on a bike. This new intruder grinned at Yohji, who couldn’t cut in without being rude in such a nice, public place.

Yohji turned to get Aya anyway, ready to tear limbs off when the man took two large steps away. Aya shuffled as his partner dragged him along more then allowed to walk. Yohji was no more then a few steps away when a girl grabbed him by wrist, yanking him toward her.

She was a young, pretty fresh thing. Yohji didn’t like the way he had to wonder about her age. Too young for his choice, too close to the law. She thought she was old enough, wearing a tight red leather bodice low on her chest, revealing a black silk bra. Aya had more class then that, even though he didn’t even have a pair of breasts.

Yohji and Aya looked at each other hopelessly across the room. Neither one knew how to detach themselves from these new, unwanted partners. Aya forced his aggressive partner back with a savage shove and turned back to Yohji. The blonde shot out his foot, tripping the girl he was dancing with. She fell, unable to keep her balance in those pink plastic high heels. Yohji caught her and gently lowered her down to the floor. He wouldn’t bruise a woman, no matter how rude and tasteless she was.

Aya got a body’s breath away from his one partner, looking back with wide eyes at the taller attacker. The old shark’s face darkened, obviously enraged that he had been refused. The pig didn’t touch Aya with even a drop of common decency. He left the woman on the floor in a flash and struck the man full on the jaw before he could even step toward Aya.

Yohji stood up, glaring hard at the senseless asshole in front of him. This man had no fucking right to lay his hands on Aya. The pig hadn’t even touched Aya with so much as a drop of common decency. Yohji left the girl sprawled on the floor and struck the man full on the jaw. The man staggered once and released Aya’s wrist jerkily, looking at Yohji in confusion.

The older man fell to the floor, deflated and unconscious in that one blow. Yohji spun back to Aya. He put an arm around the numb redhead’s thin waist and entwined their fingers together. One couple screamed, a bit delayed in the reaction. Violence like this just wasn’t done in nice places like Celestial Garden.

The violence had stopped there. Yohji had effectively diffused the situation and went back to dancing. If he could ignore it, why couldn’t everyone else? The orchestra started up again, a bit shakily before regaining their composure. Yohji dipped Aya, allowing a smirk around the room at the shaking public. More like lambs, really, shocked by that small bit of real violence, not the movies or TV but someone real.

Yohji didn’t need to think these thoughts right now. Aya looked up at Yohji, grinning a bit breathlessly in excitement. Aya was giddy that Yohji had defended his honor so quickly, without mercy. The violent, sick side of Aya laughed at the man’s weakness. Yohji thought it was damn funny too. The man deserved it, probably had it coming from years of karma.

Aya kicked his foot out, his knee on Yohji’s knee. Really, Yohji was going to have to find out if Aya had done competitive dancing before. It was ridiculous to be so hopelessly outclassed in skill as Aya weaved his limbs around Yohji’s body. Aya put a hand on Yohji’s upper shoulder, letting it slide slowly down his arm to his hand, squeezing the elbow.

Yohji danced with Aya, tried his best to keep up and not shame Aya’s careful, expert steps. He didn’t let the struggle show on his face. He’d be damned if he showed Aya he couldn’t do a little smart dancing. If Aya was so fucking good at it, Yohji could be too. The fighter in him reared up, stirred by Aya’s skill.

Yohji caught Aya around the waist, lifting him up in a high arch. Aya went with it, holding onto Yohji’s shoulders and allowing his body to fall against him. Aya slid down; his lips suddenly very close to Yohji’s own. They trembled for a moment, the redhead glancing up under the wine-colored gash of eye shadow, his violet eyes wide and a bit excited.

Yohji and Aya circled around each other slowly, the song beginning to come to end. There was no way to fight the dying wail of the last flute or the final brush of the guitar. The crowd around them applauded politely, humming in approval. The unconscious man had been hauled off sometime before their dance had ended, the floor now clear of that particular pile of trash.

The next song was beginning to start, conversation buzzing around the room. People hoping they would dance again. Yohji looked down at Aya, wondering if the man would be up to it. Aya’s eyes were closed under the fall of red wig, every hair still in perfect place despite their fierce dancing.

Aya glanced up, flashing just a small amount of white teeth behind his curve lips. It was more than anything Yohji could ask for. Aya smiled when he looked at him. Yohji felt like he could die happy. Yohji had finally gotten somewhere, moving far faster in their relationship than his own measured steps as they started to dance again. Aya resumed a serious face as they spun back out on to the floor, but Yohji knew. He had seen the smile.

Aya sighed, adjusting his head on Yohji’s chest. Yohji looked down at his partner resting against his body. Aya had his arms draped over Yohji’s shoulder, lazily trying to hold on. For this first time, Aya wasn’t completely drunk as he continued to slow dance with Yohji, the small band wearily playing on.

That wasn’t to say Aya was sober. He had put down enough margaritas during dinner for a man his size, but that wasn’t enough to take Aya out. The redhead was still hanging on, exhausted in Yohji’s arms. They danced for a long time after the first several songs, continuing long into the night. By the time they stopped dancing the place was nearly cleared out. It was almost closing time. The waiting staff still ran around, cleaning tables for the night and preparing for tomorrow.

The floor was almost completely empty, only a handful of other romantic couples still slow danced together. Aya was still an elegant partner, even if his feet were dragging and he leaned heavily on Yohji. Aya made it look graceful, like it was all planned and the way things really should go. Aya was incredible like that, even if he was fairly buzzed.

Yohji had asked if Aya was tired of dancing yet, but all he got was a weary "almost." They had continued to dance, their moves getting slower and less extravagant. Now, it was a lazy, romantic shuffling of the heels. Yohji was starting to get worried, Aya close to drowsing on his shoulder and he still had a night planned ahead.

So, they had continued to dance on, Aya slumping further and further against Yohji’s chest. Yohji almost had to hold Aya up, grabbing the redhead once by the rear and hoisting the man up further on his body. Aya stirred a bit, squeezing Yohji around the neck. Yohji wasn’t sure if it was a cuddle or a stranglehold.

"Let’s go somewhere else," Yohji suggested. Aya nodded his head weakly, dropping his arms. Yohji was the one to step away first, closing the outstanding bar and dinner tab. He was out by a severe amount, but there was still plenty enough for Yohji’s plans.

They went to the door, Yohji waiting as the host brought out their coats. Yohji took Aya’s first, holding it out. Aya looked down at it, slowly realizing Yohji meant to help him into the coat. He still didn’t expect anyone to do it for him. Yohji didn’t doubt that Aya had never been allowed this kind of chivalry before. Hesitantly, Aya turned around, slipping his arms in the coat and tying it around his waist again.

Yohji pulled on his own, preparing to go out into the cold. Aya allowed Yohji to put an arm around his back and hug him close to his side for a moment. Just enough to show Aya that he cared, that he wouldn’t hurt him. He tried to soothe that constant worry Aya loved to have that seemed to encompass everything.

"I was thinking we could go to a hotel tonight. So, Omi and Ken don’t get bothered," Yohji said aloud as they stepped into the busy night street. Aya shrugged, not looking too concerned about it. Yohji wondered what that could bode for him as they walked up the wet street, the snow melted into a fine slush by other people’s feet.

"If that’s all right with you," Yohji asked again as they walked through the moving crowd. Aya looked over at Yohji, his breath hazing around his face in the white light of a shop window. His face was as pale as a corpse, only his cheeks slightly red. It made Yohji cold, just looking at Aya. His lips were still blood red, perfectly lined and moist.

"Didn’t you plan this?" Aya asked disapprovingly, making Yohji feel like he had never even heard of a calendar before. Well, wasn’t it a fine time to bring up one’s bad points? Yohji growled at Aya’s frowning face, continuing to pace down the street.

Aya caught up next to Yohji, smiling a bit. Yohji knew the bastard was grinning at him, thinking it was humorous that the playboy hadn’t scheduled out the perfect evening. Sometimes, people did things on the turn of a dime. Aya was very used to planning precisely when someone would arrive and always being there promptly ahead of time. He was anal like that. Yohji didn’t choose to live that way.

They continued walking down the dark, midnight streets. Yohji glanced up once, above the blazing neon signs to the shining office windows. He kept looking up, toward the sky visible in a small square of the skyscrapers. The orange glow of the city reflected on the clouds, fog curling around the light poles on the towers.

Aya kept walking close, following Yohji’s sure steps with his own, petite ones. Aya couldn’t really take his usually long stride in those shoes. Yohji began to ease his pace, trying to let Aya keep up without letting the redhead know he was doing it. He would probably kill him if he knew Yohji was slowing down for him.

Walking down the empty street late at night was veryY
satisfying. Yohji had to find different ways to appease himself when it came to pleasure, because sex always had to be a distant, maybe-when-the-time-is-right idea that could never be realized. So, having Aya on his right arm, leaning his head on Yohji’s shoulder was more then enough for the former playboy.

Cars went by in bright, shiny flashes of metal and plastic, reflecting the bright lights of the street signs. The headlights cut through the heavy fog, making the night look like it was glowing, alive. Steam hissed out of a few sewers, the moving water far warmer than the outside street air.

Yohji led them up the steps of a fine, white hotel. It looked upper class, very trim and high society. Yohji doubted this was the place someone would take a whore for just one night. He glanced at Aya as they stepped through the glass doors, the redhead shaking a bit with the cold, his lips plush and red on his white face. Aya followed Yohji slowly toward the receptionist, wrapping one arm around his side. He must be freezing to death to show that he was cold. The sooner they got a room, the better.

The lobby was heated, a very wonderful thing after the chill of the streets. Yohji walked up to the front desk, grinning and trembling from the winter weather. The woman gave him a welcoming smile and asked if she could help him in any way. It was really too easy.

A
I need your best room for just tonight," Yohji demanded a bit unrealistically, looking back at Aya. The redhead was standing a few paces away, alone and out of place in the carpeted lobby. Aya didn’t fit in with the large potted plants and ugly, decorative lamps. Aya belonged in a palace, surrounded by the best of things.

Or, at least, the best bed Yohji could manage out of this place. The woman looked over at Aya around Yohji’s side. Suddenly, her pleasant expression dropped as she took in Aya’s outfit. Aya turned, sensing someone’s eyes upon him. He stood up tall, probably not aware of how he looked with the red wig and open front of the jacket.

"Sir, I’ll have you know this is a very elegant, established hotel. We don’t allow this kind of activity," she said with a sneer to Aya, "…to go on in our rooms. Please, you’ll have to go somewhere else."

Somewhere else? Just whom did she think they were, if she was refusing to run Yohji’s credit card. Aya shrugged, not put off by her comment. He glanced up toward the ceiling, looking up at the high-rise rafters and heavy chandelier over their heads. Aya was searching for something to avoid this with; embarrassed that she had brought attention to him. If only she knew the truth of it.

"What kind of activity? This is my wife," Yohji yelled, terribly offended. Aya’s eyes snapped to Yohji’s, one eyebrow raised in confusion. He stepped back, grabbing Aya’s wrist. The redhead hissed at Yohji, trying not to yell aloud and reveal his sex. The man wouldn’t be able to disguise his voice, no matter how hard he tried. Aya struggled uselessly in Yohji’s grip, glaring murder at the blonde man before the blonde hauled him forward.

"See?" Yohji demanded, shoving Aya’s captured hand at the receptionist. A male, heavy-set manager stepped out, curious about the uproar coming into his nice office. Aya was stretched over the counter of the desk, his arm forced up so his hand could be shown up close to the woman’s face. The manager looked over at Aya’s rear, which was pitched in the air with his feet dangling. His stomach had been dragged up on top of the counter as Yohji yanked his arm closer to the frightened, uniformed woman.

"How dare you say such about us!" Yohji bellowed, knowing how to play the offended customer. The heavy moonstone ring was thankfully on the right finger, looking like a wedding band. Cheap one, but it would work. Aya jerked his wrist out of the Yohji’s hand, falling back heavily on his heels. He had to catch himself by throwing a hand on the counter.

"Bastard," Aya hissed softly at Yohji, his voice low with anger. He was probably more embarrassed about losing his balance then being shown off like a piece of meat. The receptionist nodded shaking, stepping forward and falling into a small bow. The manager was smiling widely at Aya, making Yohji cough loudly.

"I apologize, sir, I…I didn’t know. I am deeply sorry," she apologized humbly, now that the manager was watching how she diffused the situation. Yohji shrugged. He was expecting a nice, fat discount at the very least. The manager made a large, wide smile at Aya that might have been inviting if he wasn’t so overweight before he turned back to his office. Old obese leech.

"We have a room open… the pent house suite, if that would be all right?" the woman asked cordially. Yohji nodded, supposing that he would have to settle. He passed her his credit card as Aya took a few steps back, safely away from Yohji in case the playboy tried to make another grab.

A
Here are the keys, sir. I’m terribly sorry again, ma’am," the lady apologized to Aya again. The redhead returned it with a sniff and a turn toward the elevator, not impressed much. These small courtesies meant nothing to Aya. He knew how people really were, having seen the cold side of their nature too many times.

Yohji went into the elevator with Aya, hitting the button for the top floor. Aya was uncomfortably silent, walking over to the corner and leaning into it, crossing one leg in front of the other. Yohji just looked at Aya, the sharp outline his ankles made with the black fishnets. He wanted to tear the shoes off and have Aya in the elevator right now.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Yohji asked once as they continued up. Aya’s silence was making him nervous again, Yohji thinking that he might be forcing Aya into something that he didn’t want to do. Aya rolled his head into the corner of the elevator, the plush red velvet of the walls blending into that bright, shining fake hair.

"Stop being so indecisive. Do you want to do ‘this’?" Aya sneered, making Yohji feel juvenile for not just saying ‘sex.’ He sighed heavily, trying to maintain that good humor for Aya’s sake. Don’t get into an argument now. Yohji reminded himself as the elevator binged, signaling that it had arrived at their floor.

He couldn’t fight with Aya, not when they were so close to the door of the hotel room. They walked down the hall together, both silent. Was that the extent of how they could talk on a personal level? Yohji felt useless, and the silence started to take on tension and grow icy as he opened up the door.

Aya stepped into the room, flicking on a light. It was very large, a room done in entirely white and silver décor. Yohji felt overwhelmed. There was an open spa in the corner and a fire was already burning in the hearth. The hotel must have had someone start it before the new arrivals got to their room.

Aya dropped his coat over the top of an overstuffed chair, making sure it would lay flat. The fire danced across the leather dress, like Aya was a bizarrely misplaced devil. The bed was a heavy, foreboding shadow on the far side of the room. It was covered in white comforters, satin sheets, and far too many pillows at the head of the bed to sleep comfortably.

"Well, do you want to… just have it now?" Aya asked, suddenly the bashful one. Yohji looked up at the man, trying so hard to stand straight and proud before him. He was a complete knock out in woman’s clothes. It was hard to put the two together, even though Aya was standing in front of him in drag.

"Actually, I was thinking we could sit by the fire for a while," Yohji drawled. He wondered if Aya would smell the bullshit he could come up with. It was like a talent. Yohji had to keep lying, had to keep falling away from what he really wanted to do so that Aya would be comfortable. They both knew that Yohji was constantly holding himself back. They both knew that if Yohji had been there earlier, before Aya had done all of this, he wouldn’t be taking his time about it.

"You sure?" Aya asked, putting a heel up on the edge of the marble coffee table. Yohji was pretty sure he managed a positive answer as Aya bent down over his upper thigh that had been bared to the hip. Yohji stared at the straps on the fishnets, sure that he could never be able to close his mouth properly again. Aya reached down, undoing the small clasp of the leather shoes that had been driving Yohji crazy all night long. The slit rode up and Yohji saw a glimpse of black panties. No way.

Aya Fujimiya did not have a pair of woman’s satin underwear. Well, he did, Yohji had been the one to pick them off the floor when he had cleaned Aya’s room. Still, Aya wasn’t really wearing them. That was just mind blowing. Yohji suddenly had a desire to know, right now, what Aya was wearing underneath the dress.

"You want some help?" Yohji asked, taking off his own coat. Aya glanced up at Yohji as he slid one heel off the foot, letting the shoe drop onto the carpet. The blonde might as well follow suit, peeling off his own black loafers after Aya.

"With my shoes?" Aya asked, putting up the other shoe on the table to take it off, one eyebrow crocked. Yohji stepped forward, putting a hand comfortable on Aya’s knee. Aya froze up, his fingers still on the clasp of the shoes as he looked at Yohji suspiciously out of the corner of his eyes. He leaned against Aya’s side, wondering at the fake breasts for what must have been the thousandth time.

"If that’s all you want to take off?" Yohji asked, purring into the lobe of Aya’s ear. He let the hand trail up the side of Aya’s thigh, pausing to track the edge of the stockings. Aya had great legs, now that they were revealed like this. Yohji had never seen the curve of Aya’s thigh before, the man always wearing long slacks or almost baggy pants. Nothing tight enough to show off the slight curve of his ass. At least, not anymore.

"You won’t mind?" Aya asked, pulling away from Yohji. He was forced to drop his hand fall off Aya’s leg or risk some kind of punishment for keeping up the contact. Aya was smaller now, out of those high heels. More back to his normal Aya size. Yohji shook his head, a bit curious, a bit at a loss for words. Aya was staggeringly female and justY
hot, incredibly desirable and just as torturing as everything else in his life. Untouchable.

Aya took off the soft, black collar so swiftly that Yohji decided it must have been bothering the man for a long time. Aya rubbed at the red line of skin around his neck, brushing off the fuzz left behind. He undid the heavy cross on the string, setting that in the seat of the chair that held his coat. Ever neat in whatever he did.

"Yohji," Aya said unexpectedly. He looked up, wondering what they could possible have to talk about. The redhead turned his back to Yohji, the wig hiding the curve of Aya’s neck that he was so used to doing. He wanted Yohji to help him out of the dress.

Yohji could have died happy, right then and there. He put his fingers around the clasp and pulled down on the zipper. The ridges clicked loudly as the dress sagged away from Aya’s body. Yohji didn’t have a chance to admire the sight as Aya wriggled out of the dress, pulling it down his hips before dropping to the floor. A long, black bodice hugged Aya’s already thin frame painfully tight, the small bra cups and straps making Yohji stare. It was cut for a woman, but Aya had slipped into the lingerie like it was a second skin, molding the silk and lace to his body. Now that the dress was gone, Yohji could tell that the breasts were padded. He hadn’t been so sure during dinner, staring at Aya’s chest like he had never seen boobs before.

He couldn’t help it as his eyes drifted down from Aya’s chest. He had begun to wonder what was underneath the skirt. He almost didn’t expect it to be a set of balls. It was impossible for a man to look this good in woman’s underwear and clothing. Aya was an exception, breathtaking when he put his mind to it. Amazing, rare. It wouldn’t happen for anyone else, at least not with Aya as willing as he was now. Which equated to the stubbornness of a mule. Yohji smiled, walking forward.

Who would blame him for not being able to hold back? It had been a long time since Yohji had sex, not counting Aya those nights before. He had been faithful to Aya, not even looking at another woman. Not for very long, anyway. They no longer held the same interest for Yohji, all of his thoughts fixated of redheads with pure white, milky skin. It was hard for a man like Yohji to stay calm and controlled after such practice of restraint.

Aya shouldn’t have looked so good in the corset. That was it. Yohji stepped up to Aya, taking the man by the shoulders and gently shoving. Aya fell back into the large, empty chair, over plush with a soft crème fabric. He looked up at Yohji with a bit of anticipation in his eyes, the cold eyes glaring as he thought he could predict what would happen next.

Yohji put one hand on the arm of the chair, leaning over Aya. The redhead stared back at him, falling against the seat in a bit of fear. Aya still didn’t like someone to enter his space aggressively. What did it matter right now? Yohji was running his hand up the outside of that white thigh, the skin erotically smooth and shaved, right underneath the tight skirt, toward the hip . . . and it was all on a man. Aya wasn’t even batting an eye.

"Are you going to do anything?" Aya snapped when Yohji let his hand go to the inside of Aya’s thigh. Yohji ran his fingers over the curve of muscle to the inside of the groin. Goose bumps broke out on Yohji’s legs when Aya didn’t even shift, glaring at Yohji like he was the most pathetic creature on earth. It really made one feel loved.

God, he could drink himself stupid until he saw penguins, and he would never have a fantasy this wild. It had gone way beyond his dreams. Yohji felt like it was his birthday. Aya had been wearing a dress and now Yohji’s fingers were brushing past the barest hint of silk underwear. Yohji was going to start jumping up and down. He felt his knees shake in anticipation when he brushed his fingers against the edge of the panties. It was so surreal that it almost seemed to be a spiritual vision.

Aya wasn’t going to remain quiet and submissive much longer. He could tell by the way Aya’s eyes promised Yohji a slow death, a vein Yohji hadn’t noticed before popping out on his neck. Aya opened his mouth and Yohji pushed his fingers under the underwear, brushing the top of Aya’s right ball.

"What…. are you doing?" Aya asked. Anyone would be a little curious to know what Yohji was going to do with this intrusive hand. Yohji was turned on by the outfit, downright horny and almost blind with desire, just as Aya had planned. Yohji looked up at the stiff redhead, feeling a bit defeated. Aya had proven once again, who had more control over themselves. Aya was sitting there properly, like a mighty ice queen snow bitch, who wouldn’t even notice an orgasm if it crawled up her leg. The hair on the back of Yohji’s neck tingled and he swore he was going to ejaculate into his pants if this continued much further.

Yohji only wanted to return the favor as he pushed his hand underneath the panties and into the bristly hair on Aya’s groin. He wanted to have Aya go through the same torture he went through, sitting there on the brink of finally getting somewhere and only having to deny himself. Yohji leaned forward, landed a light touch with his lips on Aya’s begging ones. It was like flirting, in a sick sort of way.

"Get your hand out of there," Aya ordered blandly, a bit more irritation in his voice now. That wasn’t the reaction he had hoped to see when he had a hand inside Aya’s undergarments. Aya’s hands were still relaxed on the sides of the chair, even though Yohji had one knee between Aya’s legs to keep him from trying to escape. Yohji leaned in close to Aya’s neck, like he was going to kiss his ear.

"I’m just helping you get undressed," Yohji lied. Aya was very still now, starting to feel threatened. Yohji had said he would help Aya in disrobing. Where was the harm in a small caress here and there? It was a trip, better then any drug Yohji had ever tried. Here he was, trying to give Aya a good and proper hand job, and it was between the lining of the underwear.

Yohji gritted his teeth into a smile that bared his canines as he wrapped his hand around Aya, squeezing. Aya gasped and threw his head back, hitting it against the back of the chair. There was a man with the wrapping of a woman moaning against the white, lined fabric of the cushion, panting a bit more helplessly now.

Yohji couldn’t get the smile off his face. He used his free hand to pull the tight length of the dress up Aya’s hips, dragging the material to the redhead’s waist. Yohji tugged the underwear up over Aya’s increasing erection and to the side of his balls, using his thumb to hold it away from snapping back down over Aya’s groin. God, he didn’t think anyone had ever done this before.

Aya was just like a picture of a porno magazine, his head tossed back into the corner of the chair with his neck flashing out. The long gold earrings shone with the firelight, glowing against Aya’s pale skin. Aya’s chest was arcing up as the muscles in his hips started to lift, unable to stop those primal urges. Yohji didn’t care if Aya was trying to so ‘no’ or not. He ignored the shake of the head as Aya moaned, figuring it was because he was so arousedY
not attempting to tell Yohji no.

Was he taking advantage of Aya? Aya had been so erotic, the skirt blowing Yohji right off the fucking planet. Aya had put one hand on top of Yohji’s wrist, the rings and bracelets shining, but it wasn’t stopping his movements. Yohji felt like the only man in the world, watching Aya’s face relaxing for a moment, just real happy and calm, totally giving into the pleasure before his eyes snapped open and he tried to glare at Yohji, determined not to enjoy himself.

Aya just had the wrong idea about sex. Not all of it was submission, cruel and enforced. Yohji brushed his thumb over the top of the head and Aya moaned very loudly, his eyes closing forward as his manicured nails dug into Yohji’s wrist. Aya’s breathing was starting to quicken, his breath getting lower and deeper. The bracelets jangled and chimed as they hit each other, tossed about by Yohji pushing up the pace.

Yohji felt like he was burned when the sharp, fake nails cut into his skin. Aya was gasping wildly, just short of actually voicing a scream but trying to keep it in. Yohji saw the flash of white teeth dig into Aya’s red lips. It just made the whole situation more incredible and crazy, making him horny as all hell to be playing with a man’s equipment when Aya was wearing stockings and a corset.

Aya’s hips jerked up and stayed in the air for a moment, lifting off the chair. Yohji felt the whole organ stiffen under his hand. The ejaculation flew up, splattering the stomach of Aya’s corset. Yohji grinned as Aya panted, heaving in the cushions of the chair, his hair starting to go a bit wild. The redhead was exhausted, only moaning a bit as Yohji unhooked the garter belts from the top of the thighs.

It was a shame, but the delicate lingerie was probably forever ruined. Yohji didn’t care so much as pulled the miniskirt off of Aya’s hips, dragging them down Aya’s unresponsive legs. He’d be more then happy to buy another for Aya. The red head coughed a bit into Yohji’s shoulder as he hefted the man against his own body. Yohji just reached around to Aya’s back, undoing the tight knot in the back of the corset.

Yohji ended up using his fingernails and many, sharp small tugs in order to undo the deceptive bow Aya had made. It was tight as all hell, and took a while before it finally came loose. The corset only sagged a bit and Yohji undid the strings as Aya stayed on his shoulder. Yohji slipped the top bra straps off, pulling the whole thing away from Aya’s body.

The blonde man got up, dumping the expensive lingerie on the floor as he went to the bathroom. Yohji grabbed one of the courtesy towels from the large, elegant sink room that then adjoined to a second room with a toilet and bathtub. Yohji had found a fancy place after all.

Aya was still slumped in the seat, not at all modest about the spread legs and his dick still hanging out of the underwear. Yohji wondered if Aya was just that comfortable with him, or was it that Aya was too tired to clench his knees together? Aya snatched the towel out of Yohji’s hands before he could try to clean the redhead off. Yohji doubted that it was anything to do with either as Aya glared up at Yohji.

"Are you going to give me your shirt?" Aya demanded after a silence. Yohji blinked, realizing that Aya was still wearing nothing but the underwear and stockings. He would have much preferred Aya to stay like that, but he was certain Aya wouldn’t be too keen on the idea. Yohji pulled off the jacket of the suit, throwing it somewhere to the side of them on the floor.

"Here," Yohji offered, unbuttoning his shirt quickly. He handed it to Aya, who took it and wrapped the cloth around his shoulders. Aya pulled one arm into the long, white sleeve as Yohji reached down and took the top hem of the stockings in one hand.

"What are you doing?!" Aya snapped, kicking the leg to get away from Yohji. Yohji yanked the stocking off in a quick, struggling rip as Aya tried to break the hold. Yohji held the single stocking up victoriously, grinning wide. Aya’s eyes narrowed, not at all pleased with the move.

"You can have my pants," Yohji offered, undoing the belt on his slacks. Aya’s eyes went wide, just a bit terrified at the thought of Yohji in a pair of boxers and nothing else. Aya didn’t seem certain of the idea, most certainly wanting the pants, but not an indecent Yohji.

"I don’t want your pants," Aya snapped, finishing pulling the shirt on in a huffy manner, buttoning up every single hole. For a moment, Aya said nothing, glaring at Yohji to make sure he would know just how upset the redhead was. Then, Aya pulled off the other stocking, bending down to roll it off his leg in a neat fashion. Yohji shrugged. It didn’t matter to him if Aya decided to wear pants or not.

Yohji pulled his belt off all the way, deciding to get comfortable for the night. It might be a while before he could coerce Aya around to any more… fun activities. Aya crossed his legs in the chair, looking at the fire burning. The shirt drifted a bit, showing a small curve of the white, round bottom cut across by the black underwear. Yohji suddenly decided he did care if Aya wore pants or not. Frankly, he’d prefer it if Aya wanted to prance around like that. If Yohji could have his way, Aya would never wear pants again. He would just make Aya lounge about in a shirt and pair of underwear, just like this. Yohji would be a happy man if that one, small wish could come true.

"Sit by the fireplace, my ass," Aya spat, loud enough for Yohji to hear. Yohji sighed. He supposed it was a bit too much to ask for. Aya would never agree to lazing about indecently just because Yohji thought it was sexy. He wasn’t that lucky of a guy. It was almost humorous that Yohji had fallen in love with such a cold, prude man. He was used to the friendly, nightly tumble that left him with no names and a satisfied feeling.

"Are you really like this all the time?" Yohji asked, starting to get curious. He wasn’t sure if he could hold back the urge to slap Aya if this was how he was going to behave all the time. Between those small bouts of intoxication and exhaustion, Yohji had seen a softer, needier side of Aya that had never been seen before. Where was that attitude now?

At this moment, Aya was just as determined to cover that weakness up. He didn’t want to open up to Yohji again. Aya wasn’t the type of person who could allow himself to surrender like that. Everything was a fight, from first to last, and Aya wouldn’t give in just because Yohji said ‘I love you.’

"Only when people try to strip me five feet in the door," Aya returned rudely, leaning his head back into the cushion of the chair. Like he hadn’t orgasmed in the exact same place only seconds ago. Aya was an excellent actor, one who could hide up his emotions under a cool exterior better then Yohji could ever hope to. But, it was still an act, and Yohji wanted it to come to an end, just once.

"It wasn’t five feet. It had to have been at least ten," Yohji argued. Oh, he didn’t think that they had been nearly that quick, but any stronger denial would get them into a fight. Another deft move by Aya to try to get Yohji angry so he could be calm and in control.

"Not nearly," Aya shook his head negatively, a bit of a smirk on his face. Yohji thought that Aya found it humorous that he had seen the trap. That’s right, I’m learning how to play your stupid games, Yohji thought bitterly, thinking of all the times he had broken a ‘rule’ that he never even knew existed.

"You shouldn’t have looked so good," Yohji argued back, trying to justify his actions. Hell, he wouldn’t regret giving Aya a hand job, not ever. The look on Aya’s face for those brief seconds had been the most beautiful sight in Yohji’s entire life. He didn’t think anyone’s skin could have been glowing like Aya’s, the thin sheen of sweat making this lights bounce off the redhead’s flesh.

"So, this is my fault?" Aya asked softly, in a mock sort of surprise. He stood up, the shirt draping down just barely on the thigh, so high and yet covering Aya perfectly. Yohji was sure Aya knew what a sight he was, taking two long, steps close to Yohji.

"Well, why don’t I make it up to you?" Aya suddenly offered, putting a hand on Yohji’s side. There was no question here, not when Aya ran his fingers on Yohji’s side, examining the skin. But, the abrupt change, from being pissed as all hell to seductive? It was just as fake as the shoulder-length red hair on Aya’s head.

"You’re treating me like everyone else," Yohji said aloud, knowing he had hit the spot when Aya looked up sharply, angry that Yohji wasn’t falling down begging. Aya looked good, but Yohji could resist things. It hurt, he wanted nothing more in the world then to grab Aya’s shoulders and kiss him as hard as he could, but he couldn’t give in like that.

It was hard to be the gentleman. Yohji had to be the calm one in the face of Aya’s mock passion. He knew it was a trick, and he wouldn’t fall to that. He wouldn’t let them fall to that. Yohji had just worked too damn hard and too damn long with Aya to go at it like a dog in heat. Aya hadn’t been counting on self-control when he offered himself up as per usual.

"You’ve been bitching about it all night. You don’t like being treated like yourself, you want me to make it like any other night," Aya repeated back, dropping his hands. Yohji glared at it, refusing the urge to grab Aya and shake him until he got some common sense.

Instead, Aya reached down, under the hem of Yohji’s shirt. He looked at Yohji the whole time, not breaking the long, cold stare as the underwear loosened, then slowly was dragged down his legs. It slid down slowly, to be caught on top of Aya’s knees. Yohji glanced down, helplessly captivated as Aya lifted up one foot, removing the black, silk panties.

"I don’t mind," Aya whispered huskily. It was a very cheap, low blow. And they both knew it would eventually succeed. Yohji hoped that Aya’s continued game of cat and mouse was only a disguise, to cover up how much he really wanted to have sex. Because, Yohji wasn’t sure if biting the inside of his cheek was working anymore.

"You’re… really a ruthless son of a bitch," Yohji accused, managing to focus back on Aya’s face. Aya’s small, triumphant smirk fell a bit. Again, Yohji had managed to resist. Not by much, certainly, but it had to be enough as Aya back away a bit.

"If we’re going to do it anyway, why pretend? I’d rather get it over with now," Aya declared, unbuttoning the shirt he had put on only seconds ago. One button went, popping out of the fabric by Aya’s thumb. Another one was gone, Aya taking it down to his stomach lazily. Yohji’s eyes were glued to Aya’s fingers, watching in fascination.

A
However you want to do it," Yohji agreed, blinking up to Aya’s face. He was more then willing to twist Aya’s words around. Make it sound like it’s his idea, Yohji strategize. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Aya turned around, padding over the large bed in the corner. The spot Yohji had been trying to avoid since they got in the room. The shirt sagged open, revealing a large, open ‘v’ of Aya’s lily-white skin

"Oh, Yohji," Aya scoffed, looking over his shoulder at Yohji. The blonde man couldn’t get his legs to move to follow the redhead. If he went to bed with Aya now, would it be really right? He wanted it to be Aya’s choice? What if Aya was just trying to seduce Yohji in some weird, freaky way that would get him into trouble later? It was a definite possibility, Yohji used to Aya suddenly flying into a rage over the smallest of details.

"Don’t you know? It’s always the customer’s choice," Aya laughed at Yohji, the acidic comment meant to hit a few buttons. Yohji had asked that Aya treat him like any other night. Stupid, stupid for wording it like that. Aya had taken advantage of what Yohji had been trying to say…God, it was so frustrating sometimes.

Aya continued to stand by the bed, waiting for Yohji with his back turned. The hem of the shirt went right over the smooth curve of Aya’s rear, showing the upper lines of muscle on the back of Aya’s thighs. Yohji couldn’t believe he had let a pair of legs like that slip under his attention.

"Fine, if it’s my choice," Yohji agreed vehemently, suddenly pacing over to Aya’s back. Immediately, the redhead turned around to face Yohji, not about to allow anyone near his backside. Aya looked up, fear in his eyes at Yohji’s aggressive invasion of his space, standing a handbreadth from Aya’s chest.

"I order you to enjoy this," Yohji whispered against Aya’s cheek. Aya made a short, small laugh at that, the scorn clear in his face. Yohji put two hands on the sides of the shirt, pulling it down over Aya’s shoulders. Gravity took over and the white cotton slid off Aya’s body, hitting the floor with finality around Aya’s ankles. Shadows from the flickering light of the fire and the heavy glow from overhead made Aya look even paler then usual.

"I can pretend to. I’ll never enjoy it," Aya sneered, even though he was standing naked in front of Yohji. It was probably true. Aya might always resist sex, too traumatized to get around the association with violence and submission. But, Yohji could do the best possible, with all his knowledge of what pleasure was really like. He could make Aya enjoy it.

It could be right like this… right? Yohji wondered to himself. He knew he could keep at it long enough to force to Aya feel pleasure. Yohji was a sexual manual, A-Z, of every spot that would drive someone wild. He could make Aya feel like he was going to die. But... in a good way. Yohji smiled warmly at Aya, taking another step toward him.

Aya reflexively stepped back, resisting as best he could. Then, Aya shook his head; angry he had dodged Yohji because of a senseless, ingrained fear. The redhead looked up, glancing into Yohji’s eyes. Then, he kept took one more step backward, and another, not breaking their stare.

Aya draped himself onto the bed more then fell, and Yohji knew it was the little prick’s act. Trying to look seductive for Yohji as well. As long as Yohji was helplessly attracted, the redhead could have control. Yohji walked to the bed, running a hand down Aya’s arm, checking the tension in the muscle.

Yohji wasn’t sure what Aya was really thinking of. If he could keep it slow, if Yohji could drive Aya to an orgasm before he succumbed to Aya’s charms, he could be the one in control. It wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t him forcing himself on Aya. It was be Aya unable to resist.

He didn’t care. He really couldn’t give a damn at this point about the morals of the whole thing. All Yohji wanted was Aya to fall again, to actually hear him moan and cry out. Aya was a drug, and Yohji had the first hit so many long nights ago. Yohji wanted Aya under him again, crying out in passion, and most of all, willingly. He wanted to hear Aya ask for it, because then he would know that Aya really loved him, trusted him.

Yohji could be a hopeless romantic at times. He always allowed himself a time of regret, just to say there was a second where he hesitated. But, he was already dropping his own pants and boxers, silently triumphant that he did not have an erection. Aya wasn’t as irresistible as he seemed to think he was. But, it was time for Yohji to push those thoughts away right now.

The blonde slipped forward, picking up Aya’s right hand. The red head blinked, limply allow Yohji to raise the limb up. Yohji opened up his mouth, closing it around Aya’s pointer finger. He put his teeth around the ring, gently pulling it off Aya’s finger. The redhead was staring at Yohji as he plucked the piece of jewelry out from his mouth.

"Yohji, stop that," Aya demanded when Yohji went to the other finger. He slipped off the next ring, using a bit of his tongue to help. Aya squirmed on the bed, but he wasn’t pulling his hand away. Yohji took it as a good sign, the green light to keep on going.

"Why should I?" Yohji asked, pulling off the large knuckle ring on Aya’s finger with his other hand. Aya sighed heavily and looked away, not about to argue again. Yohji wrapped a finger between the bracelets and Aya’s wrist, pulling the silver bands over Aya’s hand. He liked to see the inside flesh of Aya’s arms, right where he could see the large vein and cord of muscle before it turned into the hand. It was a special place for Yohji, a piece of skin that could turn him on quicker then any other. He discarded the jewelry on the floor, not really caring as the rings scattered.

He had to lay a hand on top of Aya’s hipbone, knowing it was a sensitive spot on the redhead. Aya looked up at Yohji in a dreamy, fake sort of way. It would have worked better had the lips not crocked up at the corners, arrogant smiling in success. Still, that mouth was very red, and Yohji couldn’t help but still a small kiss.

"Oh, Yohji," Aya said softly, placing a hand on the blonde man’s cheek. Yohji rather believed that the man was laughing his ass off, on the inside of that façade. It was hard to keep one’s temper in, but Yohji managed, knowing that he still had a chance to get the upper hand. As long as he remained unaffected by Aya’s act, he could be in control.

He kissed Aya again, more to keep the man silent then anything else. Yohji gently pressed their lips together, Yohji trailing his hand down Aya’s rear. Aya looked up, smiling, his eyes shining with warmth. Or would that be mirth? Aya was such a hard act to read sometimes. He looked good, and he knew it, and damn if Yohji could try to resist.

So, they could move together like this, if Aya was going to be so damn accommodating. He would take the permission to touch Aya’s body. Buy, Aya was used to men just using him for their own pleasure. He wasn’t ready for Yohji, who always took concern in his partners. That was what lovemaking was all about. Yohji wasn’t a sex manic. He liked to say he gave them the pleasure.

Aya’s hand trailed down Yohji’s neck, to his chest and stopping on the curve of his ribs, his hand fascinatingly warm. Yohji wondered if he dared, and decided that he had already gone so far, why the bloody hell not? Yohji opened up his mouth; pushing his tongue against Aya’s slightly parted teeth.

There was a slight hesitance when Aya opened his mouth too, relaxing just enough to let Yohji’s tongue slide in. Aya didn’t like these kinds of kisses, too used being forced to it. Yohji just teased the inside of the man’s mouth, not strong enough to really make it anything more then small brush on top of Aya’s own stiff tongue.

Aya made some sort of noise, a moan of pleasureY
or it might be a noise of refusal. Yohji didn’t care, he just wanted to hear it, listen to Aya make some sort of noise like any human being would. Yohji pulled away, kissing Aya on the neck, on the collar. Trying to find some sort of place that would make Aya sigh again.

Yohji found it on the inside cusp of Aya's neck, sucking a bit, and Aya ran a hand down Yohji’s side, nails first, in reward. It stung for a moment, but was also just what Yohji was used to, a little pain when you dealt with a woman’s long fingernails. But, once again, it was Aya, and it made Yohji dizzy with desire. He still had to hold back, had to make Aya fall apart so he could be there to pick him up.

He put a hand in the wig, tearing it off roughly without a care for all the time Aya had taken to put it on. He wanted to see Aya’s real hair, those two long lengths curve around Aya’s thin face. The red hair was thrown somewhere. Yohji didn’t even care now.

Aya made a different noise, a hitching breath that told Yohji a small scrape of teeth would be all right. It wasn’t too much, not so forceful that Aya would be scared. In fact, it might even be a turn on in the future, when Aya trusted Yohji a bit more. He still hadn’t been allowed this close to Aya’s body yet. A miserable mistake he would have to rectify, as soon as possible.

And, with Aya writhing underneath Yohji’s body, he was more then motivated to explore. Yohji went down Aya’s chest, on a nipple, experimentally sucking there. Aya gasped a bit, showing that it was indeed a sensitive spot as Yohji remembered. Yohji started to lavish it as best he knew, hoping to bring Aya into a stronger reaction.

Aya was fighting it the whole way, coming around with rubbing their hips together lithely, teasingly tracing his hands down Yohji’s sides. Aya smiled up at Yohji, his back arching up in a feline grace, brushing up against Yohji. Aya was as well versed in love as Yohji, not about to succumb to a few soft kisses.

"Come on… You want to," Aya whispered softly, brushing the inside of his thigh on Yohji’s knee. The little bitch was making very tempting offers at this point. Yohji wouldn’t deny that statement wouldn’t even bother with it. He didn’t want to be interrupted from kissing Aya again, as fully on the lips as Yohji could manage.

"Will you enjoy it?" Yohji murmured back, sucking on the jut of Aya’s chin. Aya snorted, but it was lost when Yohji licked the inside rim of his ear. Immediately, the redhead tried to squirm away, trying to move out from under Yohji’s heavy weight. Just because Yohji had gone a little bit further. Into a side of kink that Aya was afraid of.

"It’s all right…," Yohji assured Aya softly, kissing him on both cheeks. Aya was trembling a bit, trying to keep his body from bolting away as Yohji settled, one knee between Aya’s leg and both hands on either side of Aya’s head, holding himself above the redhead. It was starting to get old, to say that everything would be better eventually. Did Aya still even believe in his words, after all this time?

"Just… stop talking," Aya moaned, squeezing his eyes closed. He didn’t want to hear Yohji’s voice. Aya didn’t want to be distracted by Yohji’s questions and his better judgment. What good would trying to talk to Aya now do? It was too late for either of them to say ‘stop.’ Aya was too determined now, pissed off by Yohji’s resistance and countering mouth to tell Yohji it wasn’t all right.

Fuck taking it slow. Yohji wanted to hear Aya cry out, moving on the bed underneath him. He would get a satisfaction out of it, so sick of having to deal with Aya’s constant rebukes and tart, acid comments. Getting Aya to finally give in could be something he could darkly take pride in.

Not that he would flaunt it in front of Aya. He still wanted to have sex, over and over with him, not get Aya so angry that the redhead wouldn’t ever speak to him again. Yohji shoved the doubts aside. Yohji put one hand over Aya’s wrist, pinning that arm to the bed over Aya’s head. Aya looked up in fear, expecting something violent from Yohji. Something painful.

Yohji kissed Aya on the top of his forehead as gently as a brother might do. A show of affection that the redhead could be comfortable with; even if it was another man. Aya was going a bit limp now, starting to fall a bit. Passion was the ruler of all the basic instincts, and Aya was becoming its victim again. Yohji had a certain flare for doing that to people, even the regular ice princess of trauma and bitchiness.

He put a hand on top of Aya’s groin, teasing the hairline there, above a small, jagged patch of scar. Aya’s breathing hitched a bit, no doubt remembering what had caused the mark originally. Yohji wondered how much it could really still be hurting the man, laying a small kiss on top of the puckered, white crime on Aya’s skin. He released Aya’s wrist, moving it to put one hand on the redhead’s stomach. Yohji didn’t want Aya to move away from this.

"Yohji….Stop doing… that," Aya said helplessly, a bit lost without the usual violence of the act. Aya didn’t know how to just accept pleasure. He expected, and probably sort of craved, in the fucked up thought-process Aya had made so he could get through the nights, all the pain and domination that had come with the job.

Yohji didn’t really listen, hearing the small bit of defenselessness creeping in. He was breaking through. Aya was starting to get aroused, even though it had originally been his seduction. The evidence of it was a surprising second erection, so soon after another. Yohji found himself kind of... angry at that kind of stamina. He didn’t think it was how Aya was really like. Yohji believed Aya had started to build up that kind of sexual endurance because he had been trained too.

"I… won’t enjoy it," Aya gasped, trying to keep Yohji away one final time. Yohji knew that was a damn lie. Aya was starting to arch up on the bed, not so much in an attempt to captivate Yohji but in real passion, his limbs starting to move in the heat of the moment. As long as he kept his mouth on Aya’s skin, he was in charge as Aya moaned and twisted his hips. Yohji laid a kiss on top of the rose tattoo, wondering at the artwork. Whoever had done it was a damn lucky bastard.

Aya was nothing more then a tense bundle of muscles and moans, trying not to bolt from this. He was already looking to Yohji for some sort of pleasure. Without that sharp pain of violence, Aya was very sensitive to soft, loving caresses. It was a sin that Aya had never had this sort of relationship before. A man, very much past the age where one should have been out and experimenting with their classmates, with as much experience as an adolescent with a crush. Still, a very dangerous and argumentive man, who had a tendency to keep talking when he should shut the hell up.

Was it too much to expect a condom in side dresser to the bed stand? Why did he have to leave the condoms in the car? Shit. For all of his great planning, he had forgotten the key prop. Yohji ran a hand lightly up Aya’s side, reaching over to check out the cabinet. Trying not to curse out loud. The complimentary bible, a phone book, and tissues. Yohji grabbed the tissue box, slamming it on top of the stand for future use.

"Aya… we can’t, there’s no condoms," Yohji started, looking around the room for any place that the rubbers might magically materialize at. Aya groaned softly, at Yohji’s point, at Yohji even bothering to stop. The redhead looked over at the bed stand, his eyes raking over the phone and lamp.

"You don’t need a condom. I’m clean. I didn’t pick up anything, if that’s what you’re wondering?" Aya assured him tiredly, bringing up the guilty point that Yohji had been fearful that Aya could possible have a STD. Hell, Yohji had wondered if Aya had several. Prostitution wasn’t the cleanest, safest occupation one could choose. Aya grabbed a bottle of courtesy hand lotion, shoving it into Yohji’s open palm.

"Just do it before I kill you," Aya threatened, no longer patient enough to deal with Yohji’s worries and hesitations. Aya’s face was flushed, his pale cheeks glowing pink. His skin was beading with sweat, Aya breathing a bit harder now. His eyes were huge, dilated things in his face, glazed over with something that could be lust.

Aya didn’t want Yohji to stop anymore. It was clear he could either fuck Aya now or get out, because he would start to become a burden. Aya didn’t need a partner who was so timid that wouldn’t even be able to have sex. Aya was curious now, a small bit of interest pricked at the thought of a painless orgasm.

Fine. However Aya wanted it. Yohji wouldn’t give a fuck about his partner’s sanity. If that’s the way Aya demanded it, he’d be more then agreeable. Yohji went back to Aya’s side, pushing the redhead until he rolled onto his stomach. No doubt, Aya wasn’t exactly willing to go facedown.

Aya wasn’t expecting Yohji to put a tongue in his anus either. Aya gasped, moaned, tried to move away from the strange, invading slickness. Yohji put a hand in the small of Aya’s back, pinning him to the bed like a butterfly in a collection. Aya moaned once and bit his lip, burying his face in the pillows. Flesh parted easily the ring of muscle relaxed, very used to becoming accommodating large objects.

Yohji didn’t want that to happen yet, not with the heavy panting Aya was making. He pulled his mouth away from Aya’s rear, unscrewing the top of the discarded lotion bottle. He poured a small amount into his palm, dipping his other hand’s fingertips into the lotion. Gently, slowly, Yohji worked one finger into Aya’s body.

And Aya gasped, shuddering, unable to say anything smart for once. Yohji pulled Aya onto his back again, wanting to see Aya’s face. The redhead’s eyes were closed, his thing eyebrows drawing together. Aya licked his lips, panting weakly as Yohji put another finger in. A moan was his reward, Aya’s chest curving up from the bed.

Aya was starting to go limp with it all, no longer trying to fight Yohji or make this into some kind of domination battle. Instead, Aya relaxed, his muscles unclenching as he stopped fearing that Yohji would hurt him. Yohji had shown Aya enough the last night to make the man know it didn’t hurt like the world was exploding apart, but could be just small discomfort until Yohji could find a spot to fit.

"You want this?" Yohji asked, not out of concern. He wanted to hear it. He wanted Aya to beg for it, to break down the cool attitude and himself to loose control. Yohji craved that breakdown, that display that would prove Aya was human after all. Aya gasped, one hand lifting up to his own erection.

Yohji pinned that hand, kissing Aya on the cheek. Aya sagged into the mattress, unable to satisfy himself unless he gave Yohji permission. The blonde man wouldn’t force himself on Aya, but he wanted the redhead’s soft, helpless admission. Yohji wanted that surrender, to show that Aya really felt something. Because it would be a damn long time before Aya would ever verbally tell Yohji so.

"Fuck, do it already," Aya cursed, loosing his nerve more each minute. Not exactly the swoon Yohji had imagined, but he supposed that it would be enough to have Aya breathless with desire. He hoisted Aya’s legs up, the knees on his shoulder and a grin on his face. He knelt down in front of the raised ass before him, finally where he longed to be. Aya wasn’t glaring, but was looking away from Yohji with small, silted eyes as his neck and upper back dug into the mattress. Yohji pressed up against Aya’s opening, no longer hesitant but slow, and very, very careful.

Aya growled a bit at the deliberateness, used to much more violent and harder intrusions. Yohji bent forward with his hands on the top of Aya’s thigh, pressing Aya more firmly into the bed when the redhead tried to force himself down on Yohji’s penis. Aya squirmed, bucked, not at all comfortable with the slow, aching pace he was taking, groaning and gripping the sheets.

Then, they fit together just so and Yohji knew he had hit home. Aya cried out weakly, biting his lip at the end to clamp it off. Yohji began to softly drive into that place, leaning forward to kiss Aya’s mouth until the lips relaxed, his mouth parting underneath Yohji’s tongue. He didn’t want it to stop with the sense of Aya taking him up to the balls.

Yohji opened his eyes as he heard the hitching pants as Aya rocked on the bed, his hair spreading out on the white pillow. One hand went up to grab at Yohji’s shoulder, tightening spasmodically as Aya tried to find something to hold on. He grunted, trying one more time to resist the sensations.

There wasn’t going to be any ice princess act today. Yohji kept pounding into Aya, going down to lick at a nipple. He could stay here all night long, forever if need be, until Aya finally had an orgasm that consisted completely of a pleasure Aya couldn’t resist. And Yohji wanted to be responsible for it. He wanted to be the one to say Aya lost his true sexual virginity to, the kind of lovemaking done between equals, not the sadistic debacle of what Aya thought was sex.

Aya shuddered, the inner walls of muscle clamping around Yohji as Aya came between their bodies. Aya fell back, completely limp and still moaning as the older man continued to thrust into his body. Yohji had won. He wasn’t too much further after Aya, praying that Aya had really meant it when he said it was all right. Yohji ejaculated into Aya’s tight, shivering body, feeling hot and satisfied and so fucking right.

Yohji got the tissues from the top of the dresser, where he had before. Aya wasn’t saying anything, looking away from Yohji, from his own stain on the sheets. As long as Aya didn’t see his own evidence of an orgasm, he could pretend it never happened. Yohji got his own slimy dick first before taking a few tissues out for Aya. The redhead stared up sightlessly at the ceiling, not moving a single muscle.

"How was that?" Yohji smirked, feeling very smug as he pressed a wad of tissue into Aya’s anus to clean out his own sperm. Aya slapped Yohji’s hand away, suddenly sitting up from his dead sprawl. Aya glared at Yohji once, grabbing some more tissue as he shameless cleaned himself out, like he couldn’t stand to get rid of Yohji’s traces.

"I learned to follow orders," Aya said flippantly. Like he hadn’t been lying helpless seconds ago, rocking against Yohji’s groin. Christ, but Aya could turn any situation around in his favor. Aya popped Yohji’s bubble as effectively as a pin would, pricking any idea that the redhead had really enjoyed it for once. Aya crumpled up the dirty tissues in one hand, tossing it to the side with a frosty look for Yohji.

"Shit… Aya, sometimes you are one cold-hearted bastard," Yohji sighed, lifting up and tackling Aya with his larger, longer weight alone. Aya fell back against the mattress, glaring up at Yohji’s grinning face as he lay across Aya’s chest, one leg between Aya’s. He was not pleased about being pinned underneath another person, a bit of teeth showing between his lips, just like he was showing off canines.

"You’re the one who started all this," Aya insisted, looking up steadily even though he was pressed underneath Yohji’s body. It was a better level of trust, that Aya wasn’t fighting Yohji off. If it were anyone else, Aya would probably be struggling now. Yohji kissed Aya on the nose, much to the redhead’s indignation.

"No, you did when you looked so damn irresistible. How am I supposed to say no, huh? You planned it, Aya. You’re clever like that," Yohji accused. He was probably right. Aya wasn’t the person who did things for no reason. Aya didn’t do spur of the moment. Aya did cold and rational and well thought out. It had probably been Aya’s plan from the beginning, to seduce Yohji and get them have sex so Aya could prove that Yohji couldn’t resist, wouldn’t hold his word about not forcing himself on Aya.

Well, Yohji had proved Aya wrong yet again. He had made love to Aya, yet again, and Aya had been completely helpless… Well, as helpless as Aya got. It was good enough for Yohji. He was content, and he was proud as all hell. He reached out with his hand, caressing the side of Aya’s cheek. The man’s eyes widened and the scowl fell as Yohji forced him to look him in the face.

"Yohji," Aya said, the anger a bit weak and feigned in his voice as Aya’s large, violet eyes looked into Yohji’s own. He wasn’t sure if Aya was saying his name like a curse or actual address, the redhead’s eyes narrowing a bit. Yohji wondered what he had done wrong as Aya pulled away, shying from the touch like he was everyone else.

Then, Aya kissed him, shoving his tongue into Yohji’s mouth and fiercely exploring every inside of his mouth. Yohji’s chocked, shocked as all hell, unable to fight as Aya attacked his teeth and own tongue. Yohji fell back on the bed, forced over by Aya’s kiss. Aya didn’t even miss a beat, never loosing contact with Yohji’s mouth during the small tumble. Yohji sunk into the mattress, Aya’s bony knee digging into his stomach.

"So, you were the victim here?" Aya hissed, angry as a cat. Oh, shit! Aya didn’t move, watching Yohji’s eyes as surely as a lie detector. Yohji licked his dry lips, not sure how he should talk his way out. Aya was expecting an answer, not satisfied with Yohji’s pillow talk.

"Aya, there were no victims tonight," Yohji said very coldly, not daring to move underneath the knee. "Fuck, I’d like to think so. Do you think there was a victim?" He asked Aya honestly. Was he wrong to think that Aya had enjoyed it? Yohji had gotten two separate orgasms tonight, hadn’t he?

"No… Shit, Yohji, that’s… I’m not saying that! That’s not the damn point!" Aya started to curse, beginning to loose his steam as he became confused. Aya moved his knee off of Yohji’s stomach, kneeling over him next to Yohji on the bed. Aya looked down on Yohji sadly, a bit lonely as he stared down. The firelight went across the side of Aya’s hair, making it blaze with red.

"I…It’s still very… hard," Aya chose his words carefully. Yohji stayed prone on the mattress, knowing that if he moved right now it would probably spook Aya. The redhead bit his lower lip, pulling the red flesh between his upper and bottom jaw, uncharacteristically nervous. He didn’t like to admit to weakness, revealing a secret that should be guarded close.

"If…if you don’t hit me, I don’t know what to do…I just got lost, it…it won’t happen again," Aya said stuttering, looking away from Yohji. Automatically saying it was his fault and his problem. Yohji sat up slowly, ignoring the way Aya shied at first. He hugged the redhead close against his chest, trying to hold onto Aya so he would never be hurt again.

"It’s all right, it doesn’t matter… Just think about it tomorrow," Yohji reassured Aya. Two arms went up around Yohji as well, numbly mimicking the motion. Aya didn’t really know what he should be doing, not used to the simple, normal cuddles that wouldn’t be dangerous. Aya let out one shuddering breath, then another, resting his head forward on Yohji’s shoulder.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Celestial Garden is the name of the restaurant in The Flower Drum Song. It’s this old movie we watched in my Asian American film study class. Sad story for everyone: Someone fell and accidentally stepped on my Initial D tape (completely sober too!)Y
My fan sub of the gum tape death match is ruined! Of course, I was crying about this in the elevator to a friend and the football player behind us said: "Initial D? That show’s the fucking shit!" And I answered: "Fuck, yes it is! That’s why it’s so sad!" Anime brings us together yet again. It may sound vulgar, but check out Tokyo Ghetto Pussy, they are the best!! What are you doing still reading? Start downloading, now!

APOLOGY: tehe, bad author! (Did you happen to see Emperor’s New Groove? ‘Bad llama!) Well, thank you pink bunny and babaca, because you two were the first to say ‘hey, hey, something’s up!’ and alert this forgetful numb-nut that I went overboard. I just love undressing people so much I had to write it twiceY
so I hoped that’s all fixed now for everyoneY
SORRY!!!(Falls out of chair and crawls over to find condolence in watching Soul Taker and scratching my head)
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