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Lipstick on the Night Stand, Demons at the Door	By : rokesmith Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1396 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz, its fandom or any of its characters and make no money from this fanfic. The title is borrowed from 'Joy Ride' by the Killers.

Chapter List
- 1-Tension
- 2-Voyeurs
- 3-Massage
- 4-Release
- 5-Climax
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Four: Release

Before their rendezvous with Fujimoto, Youji and Manx excused themselves to go to the bathrooms and tidy themselves up. Youji washed his hands and face before using a little water to rearrange his hair. Looking at himself in the mirror, his eyes were sharp and focussed, but his entire body was on edge. This was more than the usual tension he felt before a mission; his skin felt like it was on fire and his blood was boiling beneath it. The effort of keeping himself under control was making it hard to concentrate and before he had even realised it, he was losing himself in a fantasy of sharing a bed with Manx, Naomi, Yukiko and every other beautiful woman he had seen at this party, writhing for hours amongst their hot flesh until all his desires were satisfied.

He pulled himself together and left the bathroom and stood in the corridor outside waiting for Manx. She emerged with meticulously straightened clothing and touched-up makeup. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, bending his neck until his mouth was just beside her ear, his lips ticking her neck as he whispered to her.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Her breath on his neck made his skin burn all the more.

“Make him watch, get him hot, and get his belt off.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Youji raised his head and looked into her eyes. In spite of everything they had done together tonight and before, this still somehow felt wrong to ask.

“Go down on me.”

She didn’t hesitate, she just gave a quick nod and then gave him a brief gentle kiss that made his mouth tingle. Then she slipped out of his arms and turned towards Yukiko.

“Lead the way.”

They were escorted to a pair of double doors which buzzed as they approached. Yukiko gave them a last bow and walked off as they went inside. Beyond the door was a large bedroom which had clearly not been designed to sleep in. It was dominated by a large bed carved from a dark wood with silk sheets. Beside the bed was a chaise lounge and several wooden chairs, all covered with red velvet. The other side of the room was taken up by a huge wardrobe, a chest of draws and several full length mirrors.

Fujimoto was standing in front of the bed. He looked much more relaxed than the stiff executive from the briefing images: dark hair hanging freely, his short beard lacking its precise trim, leaning slightly against the frame of the bed with his tie off, collar open and his cuffs undone.

He straightened up and bowed. “Erika-san, Youji-san, I’m so glad you could accept my invitation.”

Youji and Manx returned the bows, his relaxed and hers slow, keeping her head up and her eyes on him. “We’re delighted to be here,” she said. “We’re having a wonderful time at your party, and I’m very grateful for the opportunity to thank you personally.”

Fujimoto looked at Manx with a hunger in his eyes. Youji didn’t blame him, he would look at her the same way if he could. She was a beautiful woman, and a condemned man deserves a last meal, or at least the taste of one.

“I’d be happy to accept your thanks,” Fujimoto said.

Manx kept smiling, moving close enough to him for him to smell her perfume. “I’m sure you would.” Then she turned around. “Youji, take a chair. Don’t move. Especially not your hands.”

Youji slid a chair out into the centre of the room and sat in it, letting his hands fall by his sides. Manx turned her back on Fujimoto and very slowly walked across the room towards him, nothing showing in her eyes but excitement. She swayed as she walked, all the way from her ankles, up her smooth legs to her hips, across her stomach and bosom, up her neck to her generous lips and burning eyes. His whole body ached with pure, desperate lust. Just looking at her wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted to touch her, tease her and hold her. He wanted to fuck her.

He was hard before she even reached him, still boiling inside from the sensations he had felt as he’d eaten her out. She stood in front of him and then very slowly bent down to place both her hands on the insides of his thighs. It allowed Fujimoto to enjoy the view of her firm, pert ass in the tight leather skirt and let Youji to look down her corset at her full, soft breasts. This time he indulged himself, remembering what it was like to hold and squeeze them, to run lips over her pink nipples and tease them with his tongue.

The desire in him grew. His hips twitched in a desperate attempt to generate instants of pleasure and relief from the friction. His hands grasped the tops of the chair legs. She slowly pushed his knees apart and knelt between his legs. Her mouth opened, moist red lips promising so much.

Her hands went to work on his pants, and the pressure against him made him tremble. Youji didn’t want it to stop, he just wanted the friction and pressure to keep building. All he wanted now was the orgasm, he didn’t care how.

The sound of his zip coming down seemed to be deafening. He wasn’t wearing any underwear either. Manx gripped his cock by the base and lifted it till it was vertical. Youji desperately wanted that hand to start moving up and down across the shaft, but it didn’t. Instead Manx held it still and slowly bent down, slipping the head over her lips and into her mouth.

Youji didn’t need to fake the moan as his head tilted back and his body pushed up. He throbbed inside her, the gentle pressure of her lips, her tongue and even her teeth on him was almost too much to bear. It rolled over him in waves as she breathed and her mouth moved.

He forgot about everything else, relaxing back in the chair and surrendering himself to her. He moaned again as her tongue rolled slowly over the hyper-sensitive tip of his cock. It was soft and gentle, but the pressure inside him was still building and he willed it on. Her lips slid up and down the shaft as she sucked on him, each time that bit harder to the pleasure reached a greater peak.

Her tongue pressed harder against him and the strokes melded into one unending caress. The soft grip of her lips tightened to almost more than he could stand. Youji squeezed his eyes shut as he rode the wave burning through him. He cried out as his cock throbbed in Manx’s mouth, the orgasm bursting inside him in a moment of incredible release as she sucked on him. He fell back, feeling her swallowing, and enjoying the last ripples of pleasure as she finally moved her hand to massage the last tremors until finally they too faded.

With his senses returning, Youji looked down, feeling a stab of nervousness as he met Manx’s eyes. But they were calm and level and as her mouth released him she gave him a gentle smile. She straightened up and for just a moment Youji saw fear in her eyes in the instant before she turned around.

“Your turn,” she said to Fujimoto.

“What about you?” he asked.

“You first,” Manx replied. “But I hope both of you will take care of me afterwards.”

“I can’t wait.”

Youji pulled his pants up and got out of the chair. Fujimoto sat down in his place and looked Manx up and down from her heels to her hair.

“You are a beautiful woman, Erika-san.”

Manx pushed his legs apart as she had done with Youji and knelt between them. “And I’m a fantastic fuck.”

Youji watched her lean forward and press her body against Fujimoto, nuzzling her head under his chin against his neck. He saw her fingertips tremble as she began undoing the buttons of his shirt. She took her time, breathing slowly through pursed lips over Fujimoto’s skin as button after button came undone. Youji suddenly felt filthy, as though this were his idea, his plan and his responsibility when he knew that she must have volunteered and understood what she was getting into better than he ever did.

He could see the bulge in Fujimoto’s pants and tried not to look as Manx ran her hands over it, reaching for his belt buckle. The target had his head back and his eyes closed, lids twitching at the gentle caress. She lazily undid the belt and slid it around his waist. It thumped against the carpet beside Youji’s ankle and he wanted to pick it up and end this for all three of them, but he couldn’t move yet.

Manx trailed her fingers across the surface of Fujimoto’s pants and then twitched the button holding them closed. The man let out a sigh as Manx unzipped his fly and then he raised his hips off the chair to let her slide his pants down to his knees. As the fabric rustled in the silent room, Youji bent down and quickly scooped up the belt.

Manx bent her head down very low over the strained fabric of Fujimoto’s underpants, her mouth centimetres from the sensitive skin. Behind him, Youji slid the tail of the belt through the buckle and raised it over the target’s head. Manx raised her eyes, slipped her tongue over her lips, and licked them slowly.

And Youji struck.

He dropped his arms down, the loop of the belt falling around Fujimoto’s neck. He pulled hard with his left hand and pushed just as hard with his right. The leather belt bit into the skin of the target’s neck and bit hard. Fujimoto’s eyes bulged, his body shuddered, his legs kicked and his hands reached back to claw at the belt. Manx tumbled backwards, one of the flailing blows grazing her neck. She lay on her side on the carpet, eyes wide, unable to look away.

Youji’s face was blank. The belt dug into his palms. He couldn’t see Fujimoto’s face, but he could hear the seemingly deafening hisses as he fought for breath that wouldn’t come. His hands thumped uselessly against Youji’s arms as he tried fight and twist free, but the pressure held him fast and already he had too little oxygen to think straight. One last desperate spasm pushed him sideways out of the chair and he thudded heavily against the floor. Youji had been ready for this and went with him, never relaxing the pressure for an instant. He knelt beside Fujimoto, his eyes never leaving the body, feeling the last paroxysms of life drain from it.

He felt Fujimoto stop breathing, felt the heart stop, felt him die. He held on for a minute, then another before he finally let go and fell back against the upturned chair. His fingers ached as he slowly opened his hands. He stared down at them, massaging them gently and looking at the angry red indents the belt had made in his palms, remembering why he wore gloves. In the distance he heard a dull pounding which some part of him knew was just the blood in his ears.

Youji finally reluctantly looked up at Manx. She was sitting against the wooden foot of the bed, absolutely still. She stared at him, her eyes empty.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.

“It’s what I was expecting,” she replied.

“I’m still sorry,” Youji repeated. “And I’d rather you didn’t see what happened next. All of Fujimoto’s equipment should be in there.” He pointed to the barely visible door in the far corner of the room. “Go in and pull the surge protectors while I take care of this.”

Youji waited till she was out of the room before he rolled the body over. Fujimoto’s eyes were bulging, and the blood vessels in them bore the telltale ruptures he’d seen so many times before. His tongue was swollen, filling his mouth and in danger of lolling out as Youji moved him.

He tried not to look at the target’s face as he picked him up under his arms and dragged him across the room. Youji pulled him into a sitting position at the base of one of his bedposts and made sure the belt was still tight around his neck and the pants were still around his ankles. He tied the belt’s other end around the bedpost and finally smoothed out the ruts that the heels had left in the plush carpet. He walked back over to the door and stood back, looking across the room and wondering if any of the newspapers would release a picture of what he saw to accompany the sad story of a rich businessman dead before his time from autoerotic asphyxiation.

Then he went into the surveillance room and looked at Manx. “It’s done.”

She followed him out of the room. The corridor outside was empty. Youji could still feel the heat and lust in the air, but at that moment it might have been happening to someone else. He felt nothing.

The atrium was empty too, which Youji was glad of. He pulled the small cell phone out of his inside pocket and turned it on, then hit the speed-dial. It took six rings before Ken answered and Youji cursed every one of them.

“Youji... are... you okay?”

“I’m fine, Ken. It’s done. Overload the building’s power and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

“Okay, Youji.”

He put the phone away and sagged again, sinking onto the arm of a chair. When he looked up, Manx was standing in front of him holding out a glass of whisky on the rocks. Youji took it and gulped it down, the fire down his throat and the glow afterwards distracting him from the ache in his arms.

“Thank you,” he said.

He looked at her again. White skin; perfect cherry lips; soft, firm thighs; a waterfall of scarlet hair; curves to stop his heart and eyes he could drown in.

“Manx,” he said, “you’re beautiful.”

She didn’t say anything. She just smiled. But it wasn’t her cool, calm smile; it was the smile she’d given him in her bed as she’d curled around him afterwards. It was a beautiful smile, but Youji only got to admire it for a few seconds before there was a high whine from the walls and the lights went out.

“Damn it, Ken,” Youji muttered ruefully.

He reached out, caught Manx’s hand in the dark, and together they ran.
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Lipstick on the Night Stand, Demons at the Door