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Want and Need are Two Very Different Things	By : yaoilovervixen Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 5722 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Want and Need are Two Very Different Things

Chapter 7

Aya looked
at the slumping mass of Yohji in their doorway. Sighing he lugged Yohji at
least a few more feet in so he could shut the door. Shaking his head he looked
down at the unconscious playboy. He decided to let him sleep and leave him
where he lay (dead weight was not the easiest thing to carry anyways) but not
before fishing around his pockets. Once in the living room he sat down slowly
before opening his hand, Yohji's cigarettes lay on his palm.

One hour and thirty
minutes later.

Yohji's
eyes fluttered open to be greeted by smoke wafting through the open doorway of
their living room. Trying to figure out where he was he saw the familiar and
almost inviting image of the kitchen they shared and sighed in relief. Moving
his limbs slowly into a sitting position he noticed he still wore his slightly
damp, jacket. Slipping it off his shoulders as he stood a sharp pain shot
through his chest and stomach, reminding him more painfully of the scene that
had transpired earlier that night. It hurt to so much to see that horrified,
embarrassed look on Ken's face; he closed his eyes at the memory.

Yohji moved slowly to the large
doorway that led to their living room, where the smoke was coming from. He felt
such foreboding weighing in his conscious, for the only one in the house most
likely to smoke, besides him, was Aya. And he was sure he was in for something
serious if he stayed up this late when they had work the next day.

He had heard Yohji get up and move
toward the door his back currently faced. He lay almost sprawled over the
couch, but looked to elegant for anyone to make the mistake. His legs were
stretched out in front of him, one knee lifted, and one arm slung over the back
of the couch, while the other hand brought a cigarette to and from his lips. He
could see Yohji leaning against the doorway out of the corner of his eye, still
in his wet, clubbing clothes, clinging to him as he held his sore ribs. Letting
a mouthful of smoke escape his lips he finally spoke, not yet turning to look
at Yohji, "Are you in much pain?"

"No."

"Good."

Aya said, grounding out his
cigarette butt in the dish on the table. His legs swung over the couch to the
floor and he stood slowly. He wore a white button down shirt, one button down
just above his navel. Tight, black, leather hugged his hips and every groove
that encompassed his legs.

Yohji could not see his face, as
his ear-tails had moved to cover it. When Aya turned his head finally, after
having been using one finger to trail his cigarette ash around the dish, his
other arm at his side; he looked at Yohji. Yohji involuntarily let out a breath
he didn't know he had been holding. Aya's eyes seared through him, he couldn't
have moved if he had wanted to.

~That's right, Yohji. You're not
going anywhere. ~ He stepped towards Yohji. Then again, watching Yohji's eyes
with each step. He was caught up. Yohji was unaware of everything except for
the burning lust in Aya's gaze. When he stepped in front of Yohji he ordered
him to 'get up' and as he did Aya could hear his labored breathing. Aya's eyes
traveled slowly down Yohji's form. His club attire accentuated his lean legs
and flat abdomen, both covered by thin leather. Aya brought up his gaze and
looked at Yohji through his lashes. Seduction, the only thing on his mind.
"No Luck with Ken." It came out as a statement rather than a
question.

"No." Came Yohji's
breathy reply. He could feel Aya's breath hitting him at his neck. His hands at
his sides twitched lightly with anticipation and caution. It there was a game
then Yohji wanted to know, but so far, with how Aya was acting, he wasn't so
sure. His questions were answered when Aya pushed himself into Yohji, crushing
their chests and hips together. Their erections slid against each other,
forcing a pair of low, throaty, groans from the both of them.

Aya's hands quickly went to Yohji's
upper arms, his fingers and nails, unconsciously digging into Yohji's skin, as
if for support. His teeth bit into his bottom lip to prevent himself from being
vocal again. Although he did continue to grind his hips, he looked up at Yohji
with eyes displaying blatant want or maybe even need. Pushing against Yohji,
forcing him to take steps backward toward the stairs, Aya moved with him, maintain
their contact.

Yohji didn't know what to do. ~Should
I take over or let him stay in control? Has he done this before? Does he have
any idea what he's doing? ~ Coming to the conclusion that he truly didn't care,
by force of the insistent rubbing of their erections. His pants had grown so
unbearably tight in the last three minutes he couldn't take it anymore. He
couldn't remember a time when he had been his horny. "Fuck Aya…" as
his head rolled back at the delicious friction of their hips and the fact that
Aya had now attached his lips, tongue, and teeth to Yohji's neck, while
gripping at his sides trying to force more and more of their bodies together.

"Yohji…..kitchen…" the throaty
groan was all Aya could manage in his state. Then using what strength and
self-control he had left he lifted himself off of Yohji and walked into the
kitchen. He could sense that Yohji wasn't far behind when he got to the square
kitchen table in the center of the room. Aya then kicked the chair in his way,
from the table before lifting himself to perch on its smooth surface and face
Yohji. His eyes and position were all desire, with his muscular legs spread
wide, leaning back on his forearms, with back arched and head tilted to one
side, his eyes piercing Yohji with, "Fuck me now! Do it now!"

How could he refuse? This didn't
require much foreplay or preparation. The raw sexual need to screw someone,
something, anything; had taken over the moment they first touched. Walking
around the display in front of him he acquired the lotion next to the sink.
When he returned he found Aya with his pants open and he was stroking himself
roughly. Yohji promptly slapped the hand away before undoing his own pants and
pulling Aya's hips to his, harshly. Two different sounds of pleasure could be
heard at the newly re-found sensations. Coating his hand and member with the
lotion he hesitated in whether he should stretch him first or not.

Noticing his hesitation Aya lifted
his head to look at him. "Fuck it. Just go ahead." Yohji nodded at
his words as the tip of his erection brushed and pushed against Aya's tight
entrance. It felt as if a white hot rod was being shoved into him, where it
shouldn't be. But he needed this. No matter how wrong this was spiritually or atomically,
it felt so right to him he didn't care. The pain soon subsided as Yohji started
to move within him. He could feel every contour of his body being filled as
Yohji harshly pushed into him, causing starts to form behind his eyes. Every
thrust forward Aya lifted his hips to meet Yohji's. His head flung over the
table, hitting it every time, though he never truly took notice. His arms,
which he had been resting on, had long since moved to spread out to grip the
sides of table beneath him.

A moan forced itself from Yohji's
lips as he had glanced down at Aya, and the picture he presented; back arched,
head thrown back, and chest glistening with swear, was enough to make him move
faster just to get more of it. Every nerve throbbed with pleasure as each
thrust he aimed for the sweet spot deep within Aya that with each hit caused
Aya to grip the table tighter and lean into him and caress his chest against
his own. Feeling his end build with in him he put everything he had left into a
few last thrusts.

He felt it first in the pit of his stomach;
Aya knew as well that he was close to his end. The spot in him, as it was
rocked against by Yohji, sent shots of pleasure coursing through his body.
After a few powerful thrusts form Yohji he couldn't control himself anymore.
Reaching up, entwining his fingers through Yohji's golden locks, he dragged him
down to place a searing kiss to his lips. As their tongues laced together a
moan tore from the back of his throat signifying his release. A flash of white
light behind his eyes was all he could see as everything that had been so
painfully building within him let go and intensity took its place.

Feeling Aya's body tense beneath
him he moved faster in him trying to find his own completion. When Aya's body
strained his member within it took one more trust until he lost himself in Aya.
Their kiss, which had been forgotten, was regained when Yohji's lips found
Aya's.

As Yohji and Aya caught up with
themselves for the moment, they missed the feet that now padded up the stairs.
Omi couldn't get the images out of his head.

*** He watched on solemnly as Yohji
and Aya started to move towards the kitchen. He moved down a few stairs almost
automatically, to see the continuation of this real life nightmare. Tears
already streamed down his cheeks, as his hand that had laid on the banister now
gripped in so tightly a few splinters and found their way into his skin.***

Their last moans were what brought Omi out of his trance.
Bounding back up the stairs he ran for the bathroom, but when he got there an
idea struck him and he went to Aya's room instead, across the hall. Once inside
he locked the door behind him. Blind rage and a broken heart were the only
things keeping his body moving forward. He searched the room frantically before
his eyes fell on their destination. Aya's katana sat beautifully polished in
its stand mounted on the wall. Lifting his hands he brought the katana down and
was thrown for a moment at its weight. It was quite heavier than he had
expected. Moving away from the wall he couldn’t carry himself and the katana
anymore and his knees gave way as he fell to floor. He now faced the one window
in the room which was open and blew a cool breeze in causing his face to feel
so cold. He couldn’t find reasoning or common sense anymore. A last attempt
failed as he tried to stand but just couldn't. He stared down at the sword in
his hands before slipping it from its case and laying that aside. He knew he
didn't have a lot of time so with a large breath he brought the Aya's sword
across the skin of his wrist. The pain wasn't what he wanted. ~No! No! This
hurts, why? Why? ~ But he couldn't stop, he knew deep down he didn't want to
stop. Doing what he did on missions, what they had been taught, brainwashed to
do, he shut off. Let everything go with every slice of his skin. The sword
moved up and down each arm and wrist till he couldn't find the strength within
him to pick it up again. It lay across the hardwood floor in front of him, bloody.
In a pile of blood. His blood. He looked at his wrists and arms and forced himself
to keep down the bile now building in his throat. His head rolled back so he looked
at the ceiling. ~What have I done? ~
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Want and Need are Two Very Different Things