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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito and whoever else

may apply . . . Except the pants, they’re designed after my own bondage pants, so poo!
"Well, Mr. Fujimiya, you’re an incredible healer," Doctor Nomura commented impressively, unwrapping the last of the bandages from around Aya’s waist. Aya had his hands obediently behind his head; a small tradition that had developed after Aya threw too many things at people. Yohji had a list in his head, priced and taxed, of everything Aya had broken. Yohji even calculated the clean-up charge at minimum wage to add in him cleaning up the mess. The bastard was going to shell out that money, and it wasn’t going to come from an account made up on Aya’s night activities. Aya was paying in hard, honest bitch labor from where Yohji could watch the entire time.

The doctor threw the last crumpled mess of soiled, oily bandages to his secretary. She caught it expertly with large plastic gloves, depositing them into Yohji’s wastebasket without a care that would get all over the inside. With practiced ease, she pulled back the gloves and tossed them into the can as well, flicking the cuffs of the practical workingwoman skirt-suit back into impeccable place. She smoothed down the front of the tightly buttoned blazer, the ribcage nearly outlined with the snug folds. However, it opened down far below the top button, those oversized breasts exploding out, pressing the suit to the side. The white shirt under the jacket had a high collar and would have very prim, except the fabric was so thin that Yohji could make out the dark circles of her nipples.

Ken and Omi groaned at her, Ken looking away and throwing a hand in front of his eyes when she twirled on them. Ken obviously didn’t want a view of her chest. Omi squeaked and blushed, looking up at her face pointedly. Yohji shook his head, amazed. How he could still be so innocent and naïve about some things, Yohji would never know.

"Eye candy, eh?" Yohji smirked to Doctor Nomura. The man paused in watching Aya do finger exercises against his palm, glancing at Yohji distractedly. Then, he noticed his prideful secretary turning around; clearing showing the room was cold without saying a word. The wicked smile curved up easily, the sneaky, arrogant playboy smile spreading across his face.

"But, of course," the doctor grunted insinuatingly. Aya looked up at his doctor’s face in disgust, snatching his hand back to his body. Yohji and Doctor Nomura laughed together, both of them recognizing each other as brothers. Both Aya and the secretary rolled their eyes, tired of their partner’s antics.

"Doctor?" the secretary coughed, reminding the man just where he was. Nomura laughed and roused himself, turning back to Aya and running through a final exam, checking the flexibility of his joints. Nomura started to name off a few things Aya should watch out for, like heavy exercise, greasy foods and the such. Yohji had the feeling the doctor wasn’t exactly instructing Aya, but the other people in the room.

"Now, Omi, my boy," Doctor Nomura started, standing up. "Why don’t Ken and you go outside with my secretary? She’ll tell you something that Aya might need in the future in case of infections. Can’t have a patient going through regression, now, can we?"

The doctor effectively herded everyone out. Yohji waited at the side of the bed. He was pretty sure what this was going to be about. Aya looked away uncomfortably, gazing out the window. The sky was overcast, very dark and ominous. Yohji didn’t like the vibes he was getting in the room right now. Doctor Nomura smiled at them, his face turning grim as the door closed.

"Now, Mr. Fujimiya, those stitches are going to need to come out. I’m afraid I can’t hold this off any longer," the doctor stated grimly. "Would you liked to be drugged, or do you think you can stay still?"

"Fuck you," Aya snapped. The doctor smiled, drawing out a hypodermic needle from his medicine bag on the counter. He pulled out a vial as well, full of a transparent liquid. Aya rolled his eyes like they were asking the impossible, looking at Yohji for some kind of support. Yohji didn’t meet his eyes. Aya had to decide if he wanted drugs or not for himself. Yohji was not looking forward to the next few minutes.

"Needle," Aya ordered, holding up his arm. Why Aya chose the drug, Yohji had no clue. He had thought Aya was the type to grit his teeth and bare it just to be a man. Doctor Nomura drove it in, explaining that it was just a mild muscle relaxant and would wear off relatively quickly. Yohji watched as it was emptied into Aya’s arm, the violet eyes already shuddering closed.

"That’s not a relaxant," Yohji accused when Aya fell down on the bed, out cold. Nomura nodded his head, setting down the needle and the vial. He smiled at Yohji, rubbing his hands together and going back to his bag. The doctor started to dig through again, pulling out a case that held a pair of surgical scissors.

"No, no, it’s not. It’s a slight tranquilizer. I apologize, Mr. Kudoh, but really, this man has given me more bruises then my entire medical career," the doctor explained. Yohji understood the doctor’s feelings. They rolled Aya onto his face, both of them working together to get Aya finished as soon as possible. He didn’t like it that Nomura had lied to Aya, not at all, but the trick was necessary. Yohji hadn’t really believed that a muscle relaxant would have covered it for Aya anyways

Nomura undid the drawstrings of the pajamas quickly; no lingering touches that would have made Yohji choke him. Yohji pulled the elastic band of Aya’s boxers down, tugging them off of Aya’s hips. Aya’s white rear came into view, Yohji folding Aya up to give the doctor more light. It was like taking a pet to the veterinarian. It was very clinical and quick, the doctor efficiently cutting the stitches and picking them out with long, thin tweezers. Yohji gathered up the small pieces of medical thread in a tissue, wrapping it up to throw in the overflowing trash.

"Well, that’s the end of business here, I hope," Doctor Nomura sighed, pulling the boxers back into place. Yohji rolled Aya over on the bed, the body as limp as a sack of potatoes. He tied the pants back up decently around Aya’s hips, tying them in a loose bow. Yohji threw the top sheet over Aya’s unconscious form, smoothing back a few loose strands.

"Thank you," Yohji said to Doctor Nomura’s back. He could quite say it to the man’s face, after being such a jerk to him before. Yohji didn’t think that all doctors were fucking sadists. At least, not Nomura. For what he had done for Aya, Yohji had given the man respect. Nomura nodded, leaving the room without a word as he gathered up his tools for the last time.

Yohji sat down on the side of the bed. Aya hadn’t moved. That needle had packed a punch. Yohji brushed the bangs out of Aya’s eyes. The man didn’t know how to stay kept. He needed Yohji’s constant preening if he was going to sleep comfortable. Yohji stroked the length of Aya’s ear tails. They were always a point of interest for Yohji.

Aya’s face crinkled up under Yohji’s hand, somewhere in his sleep trying to resist the touch. Yohji’s fingers froze on Aya’s hair; unable to move away fast enough as Aya’s eyes blinked open blearily. Aya looked up at Yohji, sighing, closing his eyes again in pain, more emotional then physical. Yohji waited as Aya stopped tensing, the man ending up surrendering in the end. It was all about endurance between them.

Yohji continued stroking Aya’s cheek. Aya started to rouse, moaning and brushing Yohji’s arm weakly away. Yohji kissed Aya on the forehead, standing up to go to the window. He could give the man some space to wake up in. He looked out the window as Aya sat up in bed, groaning and holding a hand to his head.

"Hey, it’s snowing," Yohji said excitedly, seeing the white flakes float down from the dark sky. Omi was dancing on the other side of the street, waving to people below Yohji’s line of sight. Omi fell suddenly, Yohji hissing in sympathy before laughing as Omi slipped trying to regain his balance, falling face first in the building snow banks.

"Come on, Aya," Yohji tried, grabbing at Aya’s arm. Aya groaned, shaking his head. Was he still a bit groggy from the drugs? Yohji kept tugging at Aya’s arm, dragging the man unwillingly out of bed. When he got Aya standing, Yohji tore the blanket off of the top of the bed and draped it around Aya’s shoulders. Wouldn’t do to let him catch a cold so soon after recovering. They walked out the door together, going down the stairs with Aya following slightly behind.

* * *
Ken watched Omi’s behind as he led them down the stairs. The secretary was stepping down each stair with a sway of her hips. It was a bit too obvious for Ken’s taste. He preferred to watch Omi’s pants for a moment as he took his own, cuter steps. The doctor was enraptured by his secretary, watching her like she was worth it. The group followed Omi, led by his voice.

Omi had woken Ken up by dangling a bit of bacon above his mouth. It was embarrassing and Ken felt like a little glutton, but if Omi was cooking breakfast, he’d wake up fast enough. Omi opened up the door for Doctor Nomura, smiling as he started to say goodbye.

"Oh, it’s snowing!" Omi suddenly yelled, running out the door before the doctor. Ken stomped down the rest of the stairs and looked out the front door. Omi was in the front street, holding his hands out. It was snowing, very lightly. Ken stepped out onto the sidewalk, catching a few snowflakes in his hand. They melted against his heat, forming a wet, sticky moisture on his palms.

Omi danced in the streets, laughing like a little kid. He was trying to catch a snowflake in his mouth. When the hell had this moved in? The snow was light, but it wasn’t melting away. It was starting to build up on the untouched street and cars, a few on his shoulders. Omi still ran around, skipping to the other side of the street as a car came through, honking.

"Isn’t that adorable?" The secretary sneered sarcastically. Omi waved to them from the other side of the street. There was a long ‘Keeeennn-kuuunn’ from across the parked cars. The doctor smiled at Omi’s antics, pulling his coat up as he joined Ken on the sidewalk.

"Yes, it is!" Ken laughed when Omi slipped and tried to catch himself, falling forward to the ground, dropping out of sight behind a white, snow-covered Honda. The secretary rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at Ken. Ken laughed, gently punching her on the arm. She was just a frigid tease. The girl needed to lighten up.

She took a step back in anger, up to her toes in snow. The high-heeled shoes with their lacey ties looked completely foolish in the winter. Omi jumped up, waving that he was all right, throwing a snowball at them. It hit the hood of the car by Ken, spraying up a few puffs of white flakes. The secretary turned to yell at Omi.

"You littleeee- ah?" She started, a loud squeak followed by her falling hard on her butt. Ken looked away, keeping his eyes on Omi as he sensed a shot of her panties. Ken did not want to see that. She screeched in the snow, throwing a fist into the fluffy white ground and closing her legs. Ken laughed so hard he couldn’t breath, slapping his knees and pointing at her. Omi ran over, poking his head out from behind a minivan. He threw another snowball at Ken, completely oblivious that the secretary had fallen flat on her ass.

For being an assassin that used darts, his aim was weak with a fist-sized ball of snow. It hit the secretary in the side on the face, ice splattering across her face and eyes. Ken laughed even harder now. Oh, Yohji was going to die when he found out he missed it. Someone else started laughing from the door. Ken turned, seeing who it was.

It was Yohji, hooting and pointing at the secretary as well, unable to form any words. Aya was out on the sidewalk; a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and covering him to the calves. He was looking up at the sky, the snow gently falling against his cheeks. Ken couldn’t stop laughing, but even through the humor, Aya was strangely beautiful. Aya held out one delicate white hand, catching a few snowflakes in disbelief. It was hard to imagine that the same man killed people without much of a thought.

"I can’t believe this!" The secretary screamed, throwing her arms down in the light snow, her dress already soaked against her skin in the weather. Ken turned back to her, watching the woman as she tried to stand up. There was a loud crack and her left shoe went flying off. She fell face first into the street, her breath whooping out.

Yohji and Ken weren’t ever going to be able to stop laughing. The doctor tried to run over and help her up. She screamed as tossed off his arm, her hair falling out in a long toss of her head. Omi took the time to make another snowball and dig it into Ken’s face, the cold shocking him out of the laughter.

Yohji and Omi were the only ones laughing in Ken’s ears. He brushed it off only to have another slam into the back of his head. Ken turned around in disbelief, Aya smiling slightly. He had thrown the blanket off, outside in the snow in a t-shirt and drawstring pants, his feet bare in the icy street.

"Okay, no fair, I can’t hit the injured," Ken yelled. He wasn’t going to throw a snowball at Aya. He could . . . kill him or something. It was strange to think that hitting Aya would hurt him. Aya was the kind of guy who bounced back just to piss people off. Ken didn’t want to hurt Aya.

"I’m ‘full state of recovery.’" Aya quoted. "I won’t take it easy on you." Yohji started laughing at Ken now. Omi giggled as well. Ken looked around at Omi, glaring. Omi squeaked and coughed into his hand, his eyes sliding away from Ken’s face to Yohji.

"It’s fucking payback," Ken growled, gathering up the snow. If Aya was saying he was fit for it, Ken wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. He had dealt with more verbal abuse from Aya then he would like to say in the past days. Most of it was because Ken took Aya’s words the wrong way and Yohji would soothe things out, translating what Aya had really meant. Yohji had become somewhat fluent in Aya’s language of silence.

A snowball hit the side of Aya’s arm. It was Yohji. Ken gaped at him. Was he serious? That looked like it had hurt. Aya already had a snowball whizzing at Yohji’s face, pegging the playboy in the hair when he tried to dodge. Ken got Aya in the middle, trying not to hit the head. It may be a free-for-all on Aya, but he still would be careful around the man.

Omi took Ken in the back, jumping and clinging onto his shoulders. Ken stumbled, falling forward. Omi sat on Ken’s back, laughing as he pinned Ken down on the snow-covered ground. A handful of snow was ground into the back of his head. The little brat. Ken wrestled the boy off, throwing him down into the snow as well.

Two snowballs went through the air, one for Omi’s face, and another for Ken’s chin and neck. Omi and Ken both stopped, the snow dripping from their faces. Aya and Yohji stood above them, a safe distance away if there was a physical attack. Yohji was laughing, one arm around his side. They had teamed up! Omi and Ken nodded at each other.

Ken was right, and Omi went left. He gathered up a fist of snow, clenching it together in a small ball. He threw it at Yohji’s chest as Omi dived behind a car, getting cover. A large snowball got Ken in the shoulder, Aya dropping down from a throwing stance. Yohji yelled out a score as Ken dropped into the parked cars on the street. He ran up the other side of them, out of sight from Aya and Yohji’s eyes.

Omi had already made a small artillery, a large pile of hasty snowballs prepared. Ken kissed him on the cheek quickly, his breath steaming in the air. Omi laughed quietly, trying to cover their location from Yohji and Aya’s ears. Omi made a signal for an attack with his fist. Ken gave him thumbs up, picking up two snowballs. He jumped out from behind the van, scanning for their targets.

"Oh, come on," Ken moaned. They had disappeared. There was nowhere to go. Where the hell could they have hidden so quickly? Omi tapped Ken on the back of the shoulder. He probably had more snowballs from him.

"Not now, baby," Ken murmured. Someone who was not Omi laughed and shoved a snowball right into the seat of Ken’s pants. Ken looked around at Yohji as the man smiled, a cigarette in his teeth even though it was snowing thicker now, large chunks floating through the air.

A snowballed sailed from behind the cars, hitting Yohji’s face. The cigarette hissed and died, the stick bent. Another snowball got Ken in the side. He looked to see Aya and Omi, Aya probably using the snowballs the little brat had made.

"You need to stop smoking so much around my poor, youthful lungs, Yohji-kun," Omi drawled, clicking his tongue and shaking his finger at him. Ken made eye contact with Yohji. They had both been insurrected by their lovers. They were teaming up now for a bit of revenge. Yohji and Ken rushed forward.

The wrestling match that followed had been broken up by the first day’s customer. She walked up to them, her gentle cough making them all freeze up. Ken glanced up from the mess they had made in the snowy ground. Aya had an arm wrapped around Yohji’s neck, a snowball slammed into the top of the blonde’s head. A snowball had obviously been shoved into his own face, Aya’s cheeks pink from the cold with small pieces of ice in the ear tails. Ken had Omi by the collar, a snowball recently thrown into the boy’s shirt. Omi had a snowball to Ken’s face, his hand still on Ken’s nose, caught in the act.

"Isn’t it so strange to have snow this early?" the girl asked casually, ignoring the large piles of snow they had made in their kicking and scrabbling. Ken coughed, letting go of Omi’s shirt, brushing off his face embarrassingly. He felt like he was five years old and in trouble. At least the guys were still in the same pot. If it had just been Omi and him, Ken might have felt really awkward.

The girl waited as they all cleaned themselves up in a bit of embarrassment. The shop should have been open by now. Yohji opened the door for them, Aya going over to pick up the blanket. Ken and Omi followed slowly, still wanting to play in the snow a bit. It didn’t snow every day. Though snow was nothing new for winter, it was still the first snow!

They all shuffled in, Aya turning on the light and continuing on to the laundry room with the blanket. And to probably clean himself up. Aya was meticulous about things like that. Something about always being presentable. Yohji turned on the register, smiling at the girl. She smiled back and began to cruise around the store, taking in all the varieties of the flowers.

"Oh, no, the gardenias!" Omi suddenly yelled from tying an apron around his waist. Ken watched as Omi sprinted down the hall, blowing past Aya and to the back. There was a sound of the back door slammed against the side of the house. Oh, the pots in the back!

"Shit!" Ken ran to the back to help him. Omi was struggling with a pot, trying to lift the large, heavy ceramic from the stand on the back to the cover of the porch. Ken helped Omi with the pot, grabbing a side. Together they hauled the pot under the overhang. Ken and Omi spread out; taking the various potted plants that wouldn’t be able to stand the cold under the roof. Omi put a few blooming flowers inside on top of the kitchen table, keeping them inside and safe.

"All right, we took care of that," Ken declared when the porch had become full with potted plants. Omi had brought a blanket out and thrown it over the blossoming plants, keeping them safe from the frost. They checked the pots, making sure that the flowers were all taken care of.

"I think we’re ready to work now, Ken-kun," Omi announced, stepping into the kitchen. Ken followed him, closing the door behind them. He really didn’t want to have to work today. It was snowing. They should close the shop and go to the mountains or something. It was a day to play, not to work.

"You sure we can’t take a short break?" Ken asked, kissing Omi on face. Omi pushed him away, sighing as he walked toward the front of the house. Back to the shop.

"We haven’t even started working, so we can’t take a break yet," Omi snapped, motioning Ken to follow. Ken did, though he was very slow about it.

* * *
"Well, wasn’t that a nice day?" Yohji sighed at the end. Aya looked up at him from under the fall of his bangs, glaring. Aya didn’t like the fact that when Yohji had run upstairs to change clothes, he hadn’t thrown his own wet clothes into the hamper. Aya picked up Yohji’s pants and shirt without comment, padding over the dirty clothesbasket and dumping them in. Yohji’s outfits were now included in Aya’s laundry cycle. If Aya wanted to keep the room clean, he would have to be cleaning up Yohji constantly. It was only fair since the bastard had broken the sculpted glass ashtray, the clear figurine of a naked woman in pieces somewhere at a dump.

"It’s still snowing," Aya observed blandly, looking out the window and the white rain. It had built up on the window and the metal fire escape outside. Yohji watched Aya as the man opened up the closet to pull out his familiar, orange sweater. Usually when people talked about the weather, it meant they didn’t have anything nice to say. Aya put his head into the shirt, yanking it over his head.

Yohji moved in a little too close for comfort, he knew that when Aya’s eyes widened at Yohji suddenly being right next to him. Yohji lifted up Aya’s arm, pulling the sleeve down a bit and adjusting the shirt, straightening it around Aya’s torso. Aya was still, not moving during the whole time, just watching Yohji’s hands like they might try something at any minute.

"It’s beautiful," Yohji said. He wasn’t talking about the snow, not really. He was talking about Aya’s face, about Aya’s lips. How could anyone have ever hit them, ever made them bruised? His face was almost completely healed, a few bumps and unhealed patches of skin if Yohji was looking for them. He had every mark burned into memory. Yohji would never forget how Aya’s face looked when he found him that first night so long ago.

"Hey, Aya?" Yohji asked, brushing his lips over the top of Aya’s ear, into one of those long strands of hair. Aya didn’t answer immediately, pulling the collar up around his neck. Like he was trying to keep it safe from Yohji. He pulled back a bit, sensing that Aya needed some space right now. Aya looked at Yohji’s face, listening to him.

"Remember our little deal?" Yohji asked his hesitant would-be lover. Aya nodded his head a bit, looking unsure. Not the confident, angry Aya that Yohji knew. This was a confused, scared Aya. Aya didn’t want Yohji to betray what trust he had put in him. Yohji had found that out the night they were in the woods. Aya was so scared of being hurt that he would refuse any contact at all.

"Let’s go. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven," Yohji bartered. Aya looked up at Yohji’s face, his lips set in a tight line. Did he want to come? What was Aya going to say? It looked like he might refuse ever agreeing to a date. Yohji smiled, trying to get some sort of hint from Aya. Don’t be a prick, now, Yohji pleaded in his mind.

"Eight," Aya countered. Yohji put a hand on his chest, letting out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. If Aya had said no, Yohji might have well torn his heart out and use it for the ashtray. Yohji nodded. This was going to be just like any other date Yohji had, except Yohji would make it fun for Aya.

He would show Aya that foreplay was as much pleasurable as the real thing. Besides, foreplay was probably the only thing they could work up to right now. Aya was still jumpy when it came to more serious make-out sessions. Yohji never really got further then letting a hand wander farther then it had before, but nowhere close to intimate. Aya never said no, but Yohji could tell from his body language when he wanted them to stop.

Yohji kissed him, trying to show Aya how much he was in love with him. Really, he had fallen for Aya. He couldn’t explain it. Aya had captured his heart more completely then any woman could ever imagined. Noin, Asuka, those other faceless lovers from countless nights were all forgotten. It was Aya, Aya in his arms, Aya opening his mouth and returning the kiss a bit.

"Eight o’clock, sharp. We’re going dancing," Yohji said between each small, hesitant kiss. Aya bit Yohji’s lower lip, punishing him for trying to tiptoe around the matter. Aya was like that, a little bomb that could go off at any moment, but at the same time so aggressive and sexual that Yohji wasn’t sure if he was just dreamingY

Yohji helped Aya to the side of the bed, pushing him down on the covers. When Aya landed flat on his back, he was naked, the clothes gone like they had never been. Yohji looked at the body sprawled before him, Aya pressing the palm of his hand into his own face. He was so white against the sheets, trailing one hand down the inside leg of his thigh. Invitingly. Yohji kissed Aya delicately, creeping up Aya’s hip to his throat, sucking there.

Aya dug a set of nails into Yohji’s back, holding on to him as he started to moan helplessly. Aya’s face was flushed, his breath coming in short gasps, tossing his head. Yohji let his hand drop down to Aya’s rear, teasing the small of Aya’s back, stroking him a bit. Aya shuddered and gasped, kissing Yohji back, louder then he could ever imagine

Yohji suck teeth into Aya’s shoulder in a bit of territorial marking. He wanted people to know Aya was claimed and marked. He didn’t want anyone else to ever touch Aya again. Only his hands could run up and down Aya’s length, arousing Aya’s cock. Aya gasped, grabbing at a fist of the sheets. His back arched off the bed when Yohji’s hand left him.

"Yohji, what… are you doing?" Aya asked breathily, moaning a bit. He reached up to Yohji’s own groin, touching him with cold fingers. Aya’s hand warmed up soon enough, guiding Yohji down to his own entrance. Yohji shook his head. He didn’t want it to be rushed. Aya moaned and cried out weakly, his cheeks red. Yohji was patient, pulling back to open up the bedside drawer.

There was a large tube for situations that might come up and a condom pack. Yohji squeezed a large amount onto his pointer finger, letting a healthy amount glob on his digit. He wanted this to be as easy as possible. Yohji lifted one of Aya’s slender legs up on his shoulder, pulling Aya’s butt up. He pressed it in, kissing Aya’s stomach as it first dived in.

Aya cried out in passion, just turning into a pile of moans. He let Yohji force his hips, making his body move slowly in the soft rock of sex. Yohji pressed his finger in easily, letting the skin stretch a bit before pushing in deeper. Aya grunted when Yohji brushed up against something. Aya’s chest and face had a light glow of sweat, glistening in the light of the room. His throat and chin were exposed, an ear tail draped across the pillows underneath Aya’s head.

"Yohji," Aya whispered, his face blurring in Yohji’s vision. Yohji’s ears drummed with it. Yohji vaguely was aware of anything, plunging his tongue inside Aya’s mouth. Aya return the kiss as best he could, biting at Yohji’s lips and tongue just hard enough to hold him, not breaking the skin. It was an incredible turn on that Yohji had never discovered before.

Yohji pressed another finger in with the first one. Aya started to gasp as Yohji loosened him up, hitting the prostrate with pretty good accuracy. The gasps started to build, turning into loose cries. Yohji figured he was as good as ready. He let his fingers start to slide out, settling on the mattress behind Aya. He would take this carefully. Aya moaned and gasped, reached out and catching one of Yohji’s hands.

Aya let his hand rest on top of Yohji’s, his hold light on the skin. Yohji let Aya help as he pressed the tip of his erection in. Aya moaned and thrashed, trying to work Yohji in with his own manner. Yohji steadied Aya’s hips, holding him still. Yohji allowed just a small bit in Aya’s stretched hole. He wanted this slow as possible for Aya. It might take a while, but he wouldn’t tear Aya open on the inside. Yohji put a hand on Aya’s hips, lifting him up onto his back more. Aya’s hands were lost in the pillows, making fists in the soft cushions. Yohji slipped in a bit more, as smoothly as it was a dance.

When he was finally confident enough that Aya was truly stretched to his limit, Yohji drew back a bit, starting to thrust. Aya screamed once before managing to hold it back to loud moans. Yohji kept working in and out, fitting into Aya like it was the last piece of a puzzle. He started to get faster, buried inside Aya’s heat, Aya crying out to Yohji’s thrusts. Yohji grunted, about ready to explode, his vision going whiteY

"Yohji, what the hell are you doing?" Aya snapped, shoving Yohji’s shoulders back. Yohji stepped back, throwing his eyes open in surprise. They were both fully dressed, still standing in the middle of the room. Yohji realized he had daydreamed. He vaguely realized he had been forcing his tongue down Aya’s throat, loosing a bit of control as he fantasized about it going further. Yohji ran a shaky hand through his hair. A cigarette would be good right now, real helpful for the bulge in his pants.

"N… Nothing," Yohji stammered, Aya’s sweaty and flushed face still in his mind, one of the ear tails curled up on his mouth. Yohji glanced around the room. It was still snowing outside. It looked cold. What would he have done if Aya hadn’t snapped Yohji out of his trance? Yohji definitely was hooked on Aya, like it was some kind of drug. He was taking trips more often then not, fading away from the world to an incredibly vivid fantasy of Aya.

"Were you trying to fucking choke me? Huh?" Aya snapped in the face of Yohji’s silence. Yohji didn’t have anything to say, not unless Aya agreed to get naked right now. Yohji’s blood was pounding in his temples, making that headache come back. He had crossed the line and was into the shit again. Just his fucking luck.

"I’m not going to make-out with you on the first night, you fucking ego-manic," Aya retorted, turning to have his back face Yohji. Yohji wanted to throw him to the floor. Yohji was so proud that Aya had told him off at the same time. Aya was recovering, just a bit. He wasn’t outright shying away from these sorts of conversations. If they could talk about a sexual life, maybe there was hope that they could work up to a real one. Aya was really taking his own sweet time.

"All right, whatever, ice princess," Yohji waved Aya away, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up! I told you not to call me that," Aya ordered, sweeping around on Yohji. Yohji shrugged his shoulders, starting to amble to the door. Aya tapped his foot behind him, sighing very irritated, very loudly. Yohji kept on walking, knowing that Aya was absolutely fuming right behind him. He would see Aya later on, at eight. They had a date at eight.

Yohji hummed as he walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

* * *
Aya pulled the zipper up along the length of his leg, shifting the leather around his skin as it started to curl. The material stretched around Aya’s limbs, practically painted on his body. The black leather was split with small, silver zippers, a large loop ring for the clasp on each line. One went around his upper thigh; another went all the way up the side of his leg. He hooked a small chain from his back middle belt loop to one of the rings on the front side pockets. The chain arched down almost to his knee, dangling against Aya’s hip. He knew it brought attention to the limbs. It wasn’t a mistake to let it drop so long so people would end up watching his ass. It was part of the trade. Look good.

It was reasonably easy for him. Aya knew what he looked like, how his face angled more femininely then most men, how his eyelashes were longer then most girls’ were. He unzipped the small zippers at his ankles, loosening the pants enough to boot on a pair of good, double-welted boots. They were black leather as well, a little more scuffed then Aya would like. He belted the three buckles that ran down the sides, securing the latch that crossed over the top of the foot. It was a steel-toed boot, but the leather covered the metal, making it more rounded at the foot of the boot then other shoes. Aya liked them.

He zipped the pants over the boots, but he left a little bit of the zipper loose, making them flare out a bit. He wanted to have full movement for his ankles, just in case. He didn’t really think it was necessary, but Aya would be nothing if not ready. Two knives were hidden in the inside of Aya’s right boot, belted into those secret pockets. Aya really liked these boots. They were very useful to hide weapons, keys, and small tools of the trade. He hadn’t gotten rid of them even though he wasn’t expecting a mission after quitting Weiss. They were really good boots.

He pulled on a webbed shirt, a black thing of intricate designs, a puzzle of squares and circles. The thickly stitched lines wove across the lacy sheen of the shirt. It was nothing more then a stringed tank top, but Aya knew that his body was desirable. He was familiar with what men liked to see in a clinical sense. It was professional and calculated, the way he allowed his collarbone and the top hollow of his chest to be visible. He had gained back some muscle and a bit of flesh, his chest a bit fuller. His ribs still dipped in, poking out before dipping into his upper torso. His hips curved more then a bit, more like a slender woman, but it was better then when they had dropped out alarmingly from his waist.

Aya hid a bit of those edges by putting on a thin, black jacket. The waist as cut high, so it still showed off a bit of his thin body. The collar was large and stiff around his neck, a strap left open at his throat. Aya tightened the straps at the middle of his upper arms, pulling the buckles on snugly. He tugged the jacket in place, leaving the front open. It was still cold out, but the jacket was surprisingly warm for how light it was. It was a special kind of fabric, something that used even Aya’s weak body heat to keep him rather warm.

Doubling the jacket with the shirt, Aya pulled the folds of the fabrics here and there so he curved more then cornered. When he had it right, Aya pulled the thick studded belt around his body, low on his hips. He tightened it, making sure that his pants would remain secured on his body. He threw on a few bands around his wrists, one thick leather cuff looping around his joint, another set of thin metal bracelets, jangling just a bit around his arm.

He pulled a chain on around his neck, the silver cross drooping onto the middle of his chest. It didn’t really mean much to Aya anymore, but since Aya-chan believed so much in the religion, he wore it for her. He still had her earring, swinging widely from his own ear. She should still have hers on, a bond between them even though they were apart. Aya touched it, reminded of his gentle sister. What would she think of what Aya had done? She had forgiven the killing slowly, realizing how much it had really hurt her brother. Aya-chan asked him where that small smile had gone, and Aya found he didn’t have the humor to even fake one for her. It was too hard then.

Aya went to the mirror, pulling out the plastic bag from under the sink. Inside a Ziploc bag was a collection of expensive make-ups. Aya had learned the hard way on how to apply it, dusting it over his face to evenly hide the bruises or blemishes he would get on his lips, or around his eyes and cheeks. Those bastards never gave a thought to the fact that Aya’s face was what made it in this job. They just wanted sex and a bit of violence. That was why they had gotten a man.

Aya put a small hint of kohl around the corner of his eyes, smearing a bit of red colored eye shadow across the tops of his eyes. In the corner of his eyelids, the red glittered, a small amount of shining flecks collecting there. Aya knew it made his eyes look longer, made his face a bit softer. He put on just a bit of mascara to lengthen his lashes.

He was an expert at it, though not really by choice. It had just started to bring in a new crowd of customers, ones that had a little more appreciation for male beauty. Aya had discovered the ways to apply it, what brought out the best features. He traced a line of red lipstick over his mouth, rolling them to cover evenly. It was perfect, just enough to make people wonder over his sex, but still have a tinge of masculinity. Aya knew what looked good, even though he still hated the sharp angles of his face.

Aya always wondered why he had gotten the looks. Aya-chan was cute, that was for sure. But she wasn’t gorgeous. She was just perfect, young and innocent, her eyes still believing and hopeful. Pretty, but Aya knew what people saw in his face. He hadn’t cut his hair to be stylish, but just as a bit left over from the days so far back, when his hair had been more even. When his life hadn’t been blown apart into the freak show it had turned into.

He looked up into the mirror, the violet of his eyes the only thing familiar in his face. The rest of it was alien, not really apart of him. He had done it because he had known how too. What would Yohji say? God, why did he agree to it? Aya began to comb his hair, straightening out a few strands. Was he this far gone? Or was this really what Yohji would want to see? Yohji wanted this to be like Aya’s other nights. Aya couldn’t change the whole procedure just because he never liked it in the first place. It had to be real. Yohji said that Aya hadn’t been on a date with him yet. What could that change?

Aya was ready. He tried to recognize himself in the mirror as he lowered the comb. It was impossible. He had already put on the mask, another face to help hide away from everything he did. Just keep as distant from it as possible, so it wouldn’t hurt. And, at the same time, craving any kind of contact at all. Aya walked to the door, his boots thudding on the floor.

He went down the stairs one at a time, looking at the clock in the living room. It was seven fifty-three. Still a bit early. Aya was a punctual man. Omi looked up from reading a textbook, a pencil dropping from his hand when he saw Aya. His mouth opened in a wide ‘o’ of shock, not saying anything. Aya glanced over at the boy, wondering what was so shocking. Then, he remembered how he was dressed, just asking for someone to fuck him.

"Omi," Aya greeted. He wanted to die. Why did Omi have to study? He was looking him up and down, his eyes wide as the memorized every detail. Omi would be talking to him about this later, when he got his voice back. Aya resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead glaring down at Omi. He wasn’t a peep show, not for free. Omi tore his eyes away, looking behind Aya.

Ken. Aya turned to see Ken look up from his butt, caught staring at the rounded flanks. Ken smiled weakly, trying to look normal, but his eyes betraying his sudden nervousness. Ken looked Aya’s front up and down as well, taking it in appreciatively. Aya wished that Yohji were here. He was going to throw up. Why did they have to stare?

"Damn, Aya, you look good," Ken commented. Aya felt his stomach clench up. Ken couldn’t help but comment, and Aya wanted to die of embarrassment. How shameful it was, to show them this side. How could he ever meet their eyes again? He narrowed his glare, wishing he could run out the door. Aya had to wait for Yohji.

Ken took a step back, his face grimacing. He probably thought Aya was going to attack him. Aya wished he didn’t look so fierce sometimes. The automatic defensive, angry look came up before he could stop it. It had driven off many other customers, too intimidated by the glare to ask him even though Aya was obviously open for business.

"I second that," Yohji whistled from the door. He had dressed earlier, leaving the house an hour before. It wouldn’t have really mattered because Yohji would have to come pick Aya up later for their date. Yohji wanted this to be like Aya’s prom. He would pick Aya up from his home, just like he would with any other partner.

He had taken time in his image, but he wasn’t sure he had beaten out Aya’s outfit. Yohji had pulled his hair up in a loose ponytail, letting some stands fall around his face. He had his favorite black sunglasses down on his nose, looking over the edge to eye Aya.

Yohji had worn a pair of his favorite pants, made of black, shiny material. They were so tight it was another layer of skin on Yohji’s legs. The waist of the pants hugged his hips dangerously low. He had used a thick leather belt to keep them decently covering his groin. His wallet had a chain from his back pocket to his front belt loop. He liked to have one on when he was going to clubs. Sometimes he could miss the hand trying to pick pocket, but if the chain was tugged he know someone was trying to steal.

He had on his thick black boots, buckles going up the side of the calf. Yohji had picked out a black leather trench coat to pull on top, the worn, thin leather comfortable around his shoulders. It covered his torso but the coat tails continued down past his knees. It was one of his favorite trench coats, one used for clubbing, not missions. It had a white split cord of rawhide going down the length of the arm, tightening around his upper muscle to make a cross on the sleeve. The buckles on the arm were slightly loose, giving Yohji enough room to flex, but they still helped define the muscles.

The collar was unzipped, allowing his chest to be shown. He had worn a white collared shirt under the jacket. He had loosely knotted a short black tie around his neck, the image of the punk assassin. He was damn sure he looked fucking good, getting his hair just right even though it still looked messy. Yohji made it look like if he had taken five more minutes, he could look like a gentleman. Ready to change into whatever persona the date would be more turned on to.

Though Yohji was always a bit too confident in his looks, Aya outclassed him. Yohji felt like a messy child when Aya looked at him, his eyes edged by a red slash. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his leg over the other loosely. Down, boy. You’re going to a club, not a bed. Yohji ordered his body. Aya was beautiful, like a wet dream that took on flesh. Yohji was getting goose bumps.

They both eyed each other, taking in the other’s outfit. Aya broke the stare first, looking at Ken and Omi in irritation. Or embarrassment, by small wrinkles in the corner of Aya’s eyes. Yohji recognized that small expression as one of awkwardness and nervousness as he looked between Omi and Ken.

Why were they staring at him? Aya was beautiful, but he wasn’t a picture show. Yohji wanted to yell at them to look away from him. Aya was his. He had worked for Aya. He wanted Aya. They didn’t get to stare at him. Aya had dressed liked this for Yohji . . . Yohji admitted to being territorial. Aya was his lay, and he was getting defensive of his grounds. It wasn’t like he could pin Aya to the wall and show who was the alpha male to them.

"You ready, baby?" Yohji smiled at Aya. He wanted this night to start. Aya was his alone, from this moment on. He would be leading Aya with all of his skill. He had to make it good for Aya. He had promised that he could make it fun for him. Yohji planned to make Aya smile about this night ten years from now. Even if they broke up, got in a fight, someone died, Aya would still have this night to hold close.

Aya smiled at Yohji secretively when Ken and Omi’s head whipped back to Yohji. They couldn’t believe he had dared to say those words to Aya. Yohji smiled at them, smug as all sin. That’s right. He had tamed Aya down into accepting those words. Could they claim something that was so hard won? Aya walked toward him, his hips swaying in a way that was irresistible.

"Don’t call me that," Aya ordered Yohji icily. Yohji had a sudden fear for his future sex life. Okay, so someone didn’t like pet names. Yohji should have known better then to try that one out, especially in front of two other people. The pressure was applied and Aya fought right back against it, trying to remain proud and unaffected.

"All right, all right," Yohji agreed, taking Aya outside the door. He could be tolerable with that. His fault. Aya had just reprimanded Yohji for tempting to get relaxed around him. It was all fair game. Yohji would even out the score later on in the night. He led Aya to the car, Omi and Ken waving goodbye from the front door like maniacs. They thought it was all hilariously amusing by their identical, impish smiles. If they thought they were hiding it, they were really in for it.

They walked on top of the thick icy snow, Yohji leading Aya to the car. Aya shoved his hands in his pants pockets, looking away at the street as Yohji showed him to the car. Yohji watched Aya out of the corner of his eye, checking Aya from head to toe. God, he did look good in the outfit. Maybe cold, but he looked incredible.

"Right this way, my lady," Yohji teased, opening up the passenger door for Aya. Aya growled at him, but sat in the car anyways. Yohji closed the door when Aya drew his foot in. Yohji walked around the front of the car, swinging the keys around his finger. His breath wisped out in the dark night, illuminated by the lights of the street. Ken and Omi flashed him double thumbs-ups from the door, like they were trying to be discreet.

Yohji climbed in and put his key in the ignition before he pulled on a seat belt. Aya was already strapped in, his legs pressed together primly as he sat in the front seat. Yohji pulled out, leaving the shop behind. They were silent in the car and Aya pressed on the stereo, pressing the button for CD. Yohji’s current mix was in the player; a CD Omi had burned for him. It was a light metal band, a male-fronted trio with a girl on drums.

"So, where am I going?" Yohji asked, slowing at the stoplight. He had turned down the road to go to the downtown area. That was where he knew of the most popular dance places. Then again, Aya might not go to classy places like that if he was doing the business he had been. But, Yohji couldn’t picture Aya in one of the grungy raves, his beautiful face above the other grimy dancers.

"Just head down Main until it gets to the freeway," Aya directed, looking out at the buildings as they flashed by. Distant. The snow being wiped away on the windshield reminded Yohji of Aya. Cold and far away. Yohji could never hope to hold one. Yohji started to talk, making a few jokes that he caught Aya grinning at. Aya didn’t laugh out loud, but Yohji could tell he was humored.

Yohji went where Aya directed, into the outskirts of the semi-declining downtown area. A few bums started appearing on the side of the streets, pushed out by businesses and commerce. Aya told Yohji to park on the street. The parking lots around here were just as bad apparently. Yohji found an empty spot, a small square of snow less pavement visible. Someone had left recently. Yohji pulled in, turning on the emergency brake when he finished turning the wheel.

Yohji turned off the car, looking Aya up and down in the passenger seat. Damn, but Aya did know how to dress. Yohji wondered how many people Aya attracted. What was the usual type? Yohji shook his head, opening up the door. He heard distant music and some laughter. There was a club near. Yohji heard Aya unlatch his seatbelt. He waited for Aya to come around the side of the car.

The club was right in view. On the side of the brick building, in neon writing was ‘Dancing Balls’ in English. Very interesting. Yohji looked over his glasses at the sign, studying the ling wrapping around the sidewalk. No way they were going to wait that long. It looked like it might be several hours or more. Yohji had his wallet for a good reason.

Aya came up to him on the side. Yohji glanced both ways on the street, then starting walking to the front of the line. A bouncer stood in front of a red rope, allowing people in as others exited. The man was tall and well muscled under the black shirt that hugged every bicep. He had an earpiece clipped on, the wire trailing down his neck. They were very techno-savvy here, Yohji saw.

"Hey, my man," Yohji started. The bouncer looked down at Yohji, obviously expecting the usual lame excuse a clubber gave to get in front of the line. Yohji just smiled, extending his hand out to the man. The bouncer glanced at the offered hand before shaking it, accepting the folded bills discreetly. He checked the amount real quick, then nodded to Yohji.

"Right this way," he gestured, jerking his thumb back to the metal door. Yohji started into the doorway, revealing Aya behind him. The bouncer raised his eyes at Aya’s face and body, very impressed. He nodded at Yohji’s choice of a date, appreciatively touching Aya with his eyes. Yohji stepped in front of the tall man’s gaze, letting Aya walk in past him. Aya was his, and this nobody-bouncer could back the bloody hell off.

"Come on, Aya-baby," Yohji teased, opening up the door for Aya. Aya’s lips tightened, his face going hard at Yohji’s use of the nickname. Yohji waited for Aya to step in the door before glancing back at the bouncer. He saw the man lean toward his collar, whispering something into the small radio.

Yohji closed the door, Aya already going up the metal stairway that lead to the club. It was dark in there, nothing more then the steps and walls decorated with graffiti. Yohji stepped up, catching Aya by the middle of the belt. Aya stopped stomping ahead, like this was something he was being forced to do. That wouldn’t be the way to start out a clubbing night. Yohji held Aya back until he caught up with him, slipping an arm around his waist and ghosting a kiss over Aya’s cheek. He wouldn’t want to risk a real kiss in public, so soon, with Aya still a bit jittery about entering.

Aya didn’t like public places with lots of people. Yohji knew that. Ken and Omi knew too. It had been obvious, whenever they had to infiltrate a party, a boat, or some kind of ceremony. Aya always held back in the beginning when they had to sneak in, glaring at people who got too close. Yohji didn’t want to spook him when he was already preparing to bolt away from Yohji’s side.

"You’re absolutely perfect," Yohji whispered into Aya’s ear. The music started to become clearer, the distant bass they had heard outside the building gaining a beat and a few instruments. It was definitely some kind of dance club, the pulse unmistakably fast, addictive techno music. They went up the stairs like that, Yohji holding Aya close just in case he needed Yohji’s presence.

"You’re a playboy," Aya sniffed, looking down at Yohji’s obvious praise. Aya was the type who acted like he didn’t appreciate verbal compliments. Yohji could tell that he secretly was flattered. Aya wasn’t looking at Yohji, but examining the wall. It was careful and Yohji almost wouldn’t have noticed it. He could tell that Aya was hiding his expression from Yohji, not wanting to show his real emotion. One day, Yohji would get Aya to turn his head to him willingly.

"I mean it, you’re beautiful," Yohji assured, opening up the door at the top of the stairs. Immediately, cold air and darkness flooded out. The music was deafening, filling Yohji’s ears. Colored lights and strobes flashed from the ceiling, metal bars lacing the roof. There were lighted, black bars and small alcoves. They had black furniture, low lights pulsing with the beat. Yohji could see people making out, others shooting up with drugs. It was Yohji’s kind of place. He couldn’t believe that Aya had visited this place often.

"Just come on," Aya demanded, not in a mood to have Yohji talk to him. Yohji smiled, following right along. He switched his hold to Aya’s hand, moving into the thick crowd. People were standing at the bars, others on the leveled stairs that went to the dance floor. Yohji bobbed his head to the music, recognizing the crowd as a happy mix between clubbers, some of them druggies, others just couples, here and there professional dancers. It was the diversity of the party life, race not really meaning a thing here. They all belong in this sort of place, because they all liked the music.

Yohji moved to the music as Aya tried to push through to crowd, holding him back a bit. Aya rolled his eyes, exasperated as Yohji grinned and started to dance lazily, winking at Aya. He was trying to infect him into dancing, just letting his personality drag Aya into movement. Aya stepped a bit more lightly, swaying his hips slightly, just a step above walking. It was a slight dance, just enough to satisfy Yohji.

Aya continued to work Yohji back through the hard press of the bodies, jostled more then once. Aya glared at the people who accidentally brushed his honored person. He didn’t glare at Yohji though, looking to his face every now and then to check that Yohji was still there. Yohji just smiled at him, trying to be a calm for Aya in the onset of the people and the music.

They made it to the bar and Aya sat down gratefully at one of the open barstools. Yohji sat down next to him, seeing his reflection in the black plastic of the bar. Long blue neon lines made the shelves for the various drinks and liquors. It was definitely Yohji’s kind of place. Aya motioned to the bartender. Yohji looked over, noticing the short, normal looking guy.

He had a name tag that read ‘Spider.’ Yohji didn’t think that was a name for this young, handsome thing. He didn’t really look like the bartender sort. He wasn’t muscled and hardened like others. Spider noticed Aya and nodded, signaling he would be over there soon. Aya knew him. How often had Aya gone to this man, trying to dull the horror of the job by getting drunk? How often had Aya ordered two drinks, carrying one back to his ‘date?’ Yohji wanted to know, but there was no way he could ask.

"What can I get for you, Red?" the bartender asked, stepping up to them from behind the bar. What kind of nickname was that? Yohji supposed it was appropriate. Real names couldn’t be given out here. But, just the color red? That couldn’t describe Aya. It wasn’t enough, not by Yohji’s standards.

"Usual with ice, and a Vodka Tower," Aya ordered. Yohji looked at him. What the hell had he gotten? The bartender was already gone before Yohji could bring him back. Sighing, Yohji took out a pack and patted it down, pulling out a cigarette. He pointed the cigarettes at Aya. He took one, putting it between his lips. Yohji had the lighter out and in front of the tip of Aya’s cigarette before he even had to think about it.

Aya pulled the flame into the cigarette, taking a breath. Aya blew it out in a small, thin stream as Yohji took out one for himself. He leaned toward Aya and touched the heads of their cigarettes together. Aya didn’t pull away, allowing Yohji to light his cigarette off of Aya’s. Yohji took a long smoke, pulling the nicotine into his lungs. Relax, relax, and make it fun.

Yohji put the pack away and their drinks appeared, set down in front of them. Aya had a larger then normal shot glass before him. It was clear with a small bit of ice shavings in the liquid. The rim of the glass had salt around it. Whatever Aya usually got, it was the strong, stiff stuff. It made sense, Aya probably wanting to get drunk as fast as possible.

Yohji looked down at his own drink. It was in the bottom of a small margarita mix. It was golden and transparent in the cup. The glass was frosted with ice, an olive or something soaking in the drink. A little plastic straw was in it, shaped like the Eiffel Tower. Interesting. Yohji took the straw out and placed it on the bar. He didn’t bother with small sips.

"What did you order?" Yohji asked. Aya didn’t answer, the drink already gone. He sat the drained glass down on the counter, ice chips left to sink to the bottom. Yohji took his own down quickly. It burned like a son of a bitch, hard to take down. Yohji wasn’t about to spit in front of Aya, so he just swallowed it. Yohji had drunk worse and in a greater quantity before. If Aya was trying to drink him to the ground, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"A little bit of everything," Aya quipped mysteriously. Yohji sighed at Aya as the music started to fade. The lights went down, making the whole place go dark. Yohji looked for Aya, but couldn’t see him in the darkness as the building went pitch black and the music stopped. People screamed excitedly in the blindness, making Yohji want to grab Aya.

All the lights turned back on, blazing to the brightest. Yohji shielded his eyes, a new beat making his eardrums split. The crowd screamed, everyone jumping up in down in a mockery of the ocean. Yohji glanced to the side, seeing the leather and zipper crossed knee next to him. There was Aya.

Yohji watched Aya’s face as the song started, the lights spinning on the dance floor. He wanted to hold Aya, to just press him close to his body until the end of time. Yohji didn’t want just the sex . . . He really wanted the sex, but the personality as well. The battle he went through would only be sweeter when Aya finally fell. Yohji needed to move right now, show Aya the fun of shamelessly showing off in public.

"Let’s dance," Yohji suggested, grabbing Aya’s wrist from the counter. The bartender looked up at Aya’s sharp curse. Yohji didn’t care. He wanted this little bit of Aya. He wanted to dance with Aya, to move with him. The song was just right, a little bit fast, and very intense. The lights were spinning across the bodies dancing on the floor. Yohji watched legs and arms move, bodies pressed together.

"You wanna do this?" Yohji asked when Aya didn’t stand up from the counter with him. Aya turned a bit in the seat, his face white and glowing in the dark from the purple lights at the bar. He nodded, a bit unsteadily, his eyes sliding away from Yohji’s face to look at the dance floor warily. He was examining it, judging it. Yohji recognized that expression from the mission days. Aya wasn’t looking at this as fun. He was looking at it as though it was just another task he had to do.

Aya put his cigarette out in the ashtray, the stick only halfway done. Yohji shook his head at the waste. He was almost done with his own cigarette, but he could put it out when it was good and finished. He reached out, brushing a hand over Aya’s hair. He was utterly gorgeous, Yohji unable to think of a word to grace Aya with. Aya didn’t seem to think the same way, stiffening and shying away from Yohji’s hand. He didn’t jerk away as Yohji leaned in closer.

"Aya, relax a bit, it’s just me," Yohji whispered, close to Aya’s head. Aya glared up at Yohji, the violet in his eyes flashing against the red outline. Aya looked like a model, glaring up at the camera. Yohji wanted to take a thousand pictures. Once of Aya narrowing his eyes at Yohji’s face, and the rest of Aya’s face when Yohji made him have a pleasurable, desirable orgasm.

"Fuck off," Aya sneered, though there was a bit of humor in his eyes. Barely. It was just enough to not be a murderous rage. Aya was amused that Yohji was trying to comfort him, and angry that he would try at the same time. Mixed messages were not his thing. Yohji tugged Aya out of his seat, forcing Aya to stand up and away from the bar. The music was starting to morph, getting more pulsating and demanding.

"You ready?" Yohji asked, glancing down to the grip he had on Aya’s wrist. Aya nodded, letting his eyes drift over the dance floor. The strobe light and various colored lasers flashed across his white face, red, green, white then blue, as if the lights were trying to spotlight Aya’s beauty. That red hair flashed like a beacon underneath the lights, the bright highlights shining and flashing with the small glimpses Yohji could see between the pitch black and bright gray-blue light flashing from the strobes.

Aya reached up and plucked the cigarette from Yohji’s lips, tossing it somewhere behind him. Yohji’s mouth wouldn’t close, as much as he tried to keep from looking like he was going in to ecliptic shock. Yohji wasn’t the one to drag Aya onto the dance floor, despite the fact he had his hand wrapped around Aya’s small, delicate wrist. By that grip, Aya led Yohji into the sea of the dancing crowd.

They went down the stairs, heading toward the worst of the crowd, bodies squeezed together so close it should be illegal. Yohji had to press by couples as they made out or danced on the long steps. Aya kept going on, pushing people out of the way though he didn’t even raise a hand. Aya just used his own presence and his glare to make the crowd get the hell away.

Yohji was thankful that he was holding onto Aya, because as they moved deeper into the crowd, bodies began to hide Aya from his sight. People moved against him, writhing to the hard, fast beat of the music, bodies slamming against him. The only way he knew that Aya was still there was because he was grinding Aya’s bones together with his hand.

Yohji shouldered a couple aside and suddenly there was a small clearing where Yohji could actually see the black floor, stained and cracked from years of usage. Aya was waiting for him, twisting his wrist out of Yohji’s grasp as soon as he knew that Yohji had made it. The music sped up, the lights pulsing faster to the beat. The crowd cheered, deafening Yohji, the bass making his insides vibrate. Aya looked up into Yohji’s eyes, as if double-checking him, and then began to move.

It started out so subtly that Yohji didn’t even notice. He was just regretting that he had dragged Aya onto the dance floor, because the fearless leader was as inclined to club dancing as he was to fine needlepoint stitching. Yohji’s body was moving on his own, years of spending the nights at clubs coming in to automatically sway to the music, carefully watching Aya for any hint that they would dance together. Aya took a step closer to Yohji, and then started to dance.

His hips started first, rocking fast to the beat, his hands hanging at his sides. The lighting flashed, illuminating Aya’s movements for a split second before going dark again. The light made Aya’s body freeze for a moment before he moved again, like a slide show. Someone started singing in the song, a strong female voice busting out lyrics that Yohji couldn’t understand over the roar of the crowd.

Aya’s eyes were closed, as if he was concentrating only on the music, and then he began to dance against Yohji, his hands rising up in the rhythm. Aya’s palms brushed over his own hips, bringing Yohji’s attention to the tight body he was dancing with. Those lucky fingers were brushing every part of Aya’s body that Yohji wanted to, except those digits were Aya’s. Yohji watched Aya’s arms move, cutting through the air and playing down his body to the fast pace of the beat, sometimes brushing against Yohji like a tease.

"You can dance," Yohji said, impressed. He couldn’t believe it. Aya was dancing in a crowded nightclub, moving right up to Yohji with none of that chronic isolation Aya was so fond of. Yohji admitted he wasn’t doing his best at dancing, too stunned by Aya’s moves. Aya was a good dancer, moving to the beat like it was his favorite song, absolutely gorgeous. Yohji shouldn’t be so surprised after dancing with him before in the bedroom, that had just been play, not this serious movement Aya was going through.

The leather pants glistened with a flash of red light, and Yohji decided to stop trying to pussyfoot around Aya’s limits. Hell, he had already gotten the ice queen onto a dance floor. He felt like taking on the world. Yohji moved closer to Aya with a slight swaying of his hips, making the distance between them suddenly intimate with an innocent-looking move. Every little twitch Yohji made was all calculated and thought out, only to move him closer to Aya.

Aya threw his head back, the ear tails streaming behind him, flashing yellow lighting. Yohji put a hand on Aya’s hip, steadying the wild movements. He moved a knee between Aya’s thin legs and was rewarded with Aya grinding a hip gracefully into Yohji’s groin with his dance. Aya lowered his body onto the top of Yohji’s thigh, his body bending backwards, dipping down. Yohji shifted his hand, supporting the small of Aya’s back as rhythm pulsed faster.

The strobe lighting changed as the song began to speed up, fading down in contrast to the demanding music. Several large disco balls with different colored fractured glass descended from the ceiling, finally explaining the club’s name. They spun small ovals of light across the bodies on the floor, rolling across Aya’s head and body. Yohji decided that watching Aya dance was better then any drug he had every tried.

Yohji was entranced, watching Aya twist against his body, running his hands through his hair. He had never been more beautiful, a slight sheen of sweat beading on his face, making his skin glisten like a rare jewel. His eyelashes were still closed, just listening to the music and feeling the beat, the eyeliner flashing with the small amount of glitter in the make up. Those lips were the deepest red Yohji had ever seen, slightly parted to show a small amount of white teeth.

Yohji ran his hands up and down Aya’s sides, slipping them under the jacket. The ribs rotating underneath the slick fabric of the shirt, jutting up through the skin, hypnotized him. He let one hand drift down to slide into Aya’s back pocket, feeling the muscles of his ass jerk with speed of the dance. It was all his, Yohji was the only one dancing with Aya. People started to edge around them, some people watching Aya grind and twist, others watching as Yohji shamelessly dragged Aya up on his hip.

Just like he had planned, people were spreading out, impressed. How couldn’t they? Aya was like a super star, some kind of idol that forced everyone to watch. Yohji turned, looking out from under his eyelashes at the crowd. Girls here, shown by a large amount of stomach exposed and a small amount of breast properly covered. Men over there, wearing sunglasses as well, nodding at Yohji in congratulations of being the one to catch Aya. And, Yohji was in the center of Aya’s dance, almost nothing more then a pole for Aya to weave about.

There. A man, definitely not dressed for clubbing, his long blue hair slicked back behind his ears was pushing through the dancing couples. His shoulders were large, the suit black and menacing. He was not here for dancing. The man’s eyes were on Aya, like a target. Yohji caught his own wrist behind Aya’s back, forcing his knee further on Aya’s groin. Aya tipped forward, his footing lost for a moment, tripped up by Yohji’s leg. Yohji let him gain his balance against his chest and at the same time grabbed the dart hidden in the cuff of his jacket.

Omi had left a lot of things around, not hidden very well by Yohji’s standards. He couldn’t use the wire in the club, too bloody to be seen, too long if he just strangled them until he was sure they were dead. The dart flicked out, hitting the man in the Adam’s apple. Yohji caught Aya’s hip as he backed away, trying to put some distance in so he could move better. Yohji followed Aya, turned on as all hell. He couldn’t care less as the man thudded to the floor, people stepping on the body without a care. They thought he was another drunk or druggie. Someone would take care of the unconscious person soon. At least, they thought he was unconscious. Yohji knew the man was very dead.

One less from God knew how many. Aya stepped back, Yohji copying the steps, moving to the beat, dancing back and forth, their hips weaving and pressing against each other. Aya was enticing and secretive, inviting Yohji in. He wouldn’t be able to resist, a little stronger then Aya would have liked to expect. He grabbed at Aya’s sides, allowing him to sway between the grip, trying to let the body move as much as possible while still staying as close as possible.

Aya allowed it, throwing his head back, the two rises of his collarbone jutting out. They glistened a bit with sweat, a blue light flashing across the white skin. Aya kept swinging his arms, letting his hands drop behind his head. Yohji grabbed at one of the hands from behind Aya’s back. He caught the fingers and let Aya twist his arm down comfortably. There. A new man was pushing between two couples, his thin eyes narrowed even further in anger. His black hair was pulled back severely into a ponytail. Yohji thought him to be Chinese.

Aya turned under his arm and Yohji waited until Aya’s back was to his hand. The needle shot out, a silver dart between the short step of the crowd and their dance. The man toppled, a gun clattering to the floor. Yohji was probably the only one who heard it over the bass of the music and the cheers of the other people. He kicked the gun out from Aya’s descending foot, sending it into the crowd. Someone yelped and a man grabbed at his date as she fell, her feet shooting out from under her.

He didn’t notice, kept on dancing, one foot caught in between his legs, Aya’s upper thigh caught on Yohji’s own. He stepped back down, gain his feet but keeping Yohji’s leg between his own, rolling his shoulders to the strong steady beat that rang out above all. Yohji leaned forward, kissing Aya on the ear, looking over his hair. Two more, one closer then Yohji would have thought were through the crowd, almost breaking into the clearing.

Yohji punched the closer man in the side, feeling a rib crack under the blow. His leg left Aya, contacting his knee to the man’s lower stomach. Aya was left behind him as Yohji got the switchblade out and drove it into the chest, letting the man drop. If he was dead, good, but Yohji would spend a moment to make sure that he was truly deceased. Aya froze up, one arm in midair, looking at the guard who shoved a girl down to the right, pulling out a gun without a care for the public.

His eyes went wide with terror. That was all Yohji needed to unlatch the wire and fling it out. The small, blonde man choked, his hand and neck suddenly captured. Yohji pulled it back with all of his might, jumping back a step to make sure it would be as vicious as he could manage. The thin man’s head fell along with his wrist, the gun clattering from the loose fingers. One of the clubbers screamed, blood spraying across her face and chest.

More blood shot out with the force of impact, painting the legs of the dancers. Men and woman screamed alike, suddenly jumping and panicking, spreading to the rest of the crowd. They started to try and riot, fists lashing out as people started to fight, confused at what had started it all. The music reigned above all, the girl singing without a care as to whom her words affected. Yohji turned around quickly, the coat tails of the trench coat flaring behind him as he checked the room.

Six, there were six scattered around the room, pushed back by the sudden wave of people. They were fighting through, Aya reaching down to the heavy boot and coming out with two small throwing knives. Wasn’t he a prepared little thing? They spun a circle of lightning around his fingers in the dark of the room, the screaming and song mixing together. Lighting flashed, pink, then blue before Aya threw one expertly, taking the closest employee out in between the eyes.

Yohji hit above to the rafters, using it to lift up an employee that sudden made himself an open target. The weaving of the bodies and the sudden flash of the bright red hair gave Yohji a good opportunity, so he yanked the body up without a care. The man reached at the wire, not pulling free from the people trying to get out. Someone screamed shrilly, getting stampeded beneath the feet of the crowd. They didn’t care, everyone out for themselves. The man finally stopped jerking, Yohji letting the body drop into the wave of people.

Aya threw another knife to the crowd behind him and to Yohji’s right. It hit a man in the dead center of the chest, making a loud thud into the bone and organs beneath it. The employee’s glasses dropped from his face, hitting the ground before the man fell. Blood started to stain the front of the silver silk shirt, the man never able to wear that outfit again. People closest to the back screamed and tried beating down the people in front of them, trying to get away from the mess.

Yohji snapped the wire across the room, cursing as someone fouled the line with their body. The wire had just started to loop around the man’s neck when some panicking club boy ran into the line. He dropped the wire, letting it come back. Fuck. Why did some people get to live? It would have been easier to just slice through the kid’s neck and decapitate the employee at the same time. Stupid shit. He better be thankful.

The kid ran faster, picking himself up from the stumble the wire had caused. The employee coughed, grabbing out at his throat that had been suddenly spared. The crowd cleared and Yohji jerked the wire out from his wrist, ready for another throw. There was flash of movement to his right as the crowd began to thin, people getting out.

Aya was quicker, jumping up and landing a knee to the guard’s head as he was struggling with his breath. The skull cracked, audible as the techno beat sped up, the white lights spinning faster, becoming more concentrated. The man started to fall as Aya spun, landing his other leg into the man’s lower stomach before he hit the ground. Aya dropped to his feet, his legs spread wide as the black man was thrown into the floor by Aya’s kicks.

Yohji wasn’t sure if he was dead or just brain damaged. He didn’t have time to care, getting the American that came at Aya from the front, his blonde hair cast blue in the lighting. The neck was severed easily, just cutting through butter. Blood exploded across the floor before the man landed in the puddle of his own life. Yohji looked around the room two more, at opposite ends.

Aya glanced over to the man with the knife in his forehead. He had fallen onto his back, so he could grab the knife easily. It was better then the chest wound, the familiar face turned into the floor. Aya didn’t want to touch him. Aya knew him. That man had been one of the freebie-abusers, a disgusting asshole of a man that thought he had everything Aya needed. Aya had wanted to break that hand many times. It felt good; Aya didn’t feel quite so scared now that he had done what he had wanted to do so long ago. But, he didn’t think he could turn over the body to get the knife.

Yohji caught a bit of the thought going on in Aya’s eyes. He wanted one of the knives, and was going for the on easily accessible in the dead man’s face. Yohji nodded, trying to tell Aya that he would cover him. Aya signaled back to Yohji with a small dip of his chin. He was confident to let Yohji take care of guarding him for the brief moment he’d be open when he went for the knife. Yohji stretched the wire out before him, light flashing down the metal length.

The song started to get a bit more bouncing, and Yohji couldn’t help but a quick bounce of his hips to the addictive beat. Aya lunged for the knife and Yohji swung out at the first employee to reach for his gun. Yohji caught the bracelet-covered wrist, tangling the wire up in the expensive jewelry. Shit. He hated accessories on guys. It always got in the fucking way. Yohji tore at the wire, pulling the shoulder out of socket before the metal finally let loose and the wire snapped back.

Aya threw the knife at the second employee. It took him a bit above the heart. The man coughed, blood splattering his chin as his long blue hair dropped into his face. The employee fell to his knees, making a painful effort to try and stay alive. It was like watching road kill die, there was nothing you could do but feel pity for the animal.

Yohji flashed out the wire, taking the dying man around the neck and pulling back slightly, slitting his throat. There was a gasp, the bastard taking his own sweet time in dying even though Yohji was trying to make it easy. Yohji took the wire back, the fast cymbals adding together around the song before the bass came back.

Aya was running at the other pierced, bejeweled man, a beer bottle connecting with the man on the jaw. The crack made Yohji’s body wince, glass shattering across the man’s face. The sound of the bone breaking sharper then Yohji would have liked. The man started to but Aya gave him an uppercut to the jaw, making the head snap back. The employee staggered back one step, blood speckling his chin and lips.

"Aya!" Yohji called, shocked at the blank look on Aya’s face. It was emotionless, completely blank as he threw another right into the man’s gut, making the body hunch around the blow. Aya grabbed the man by the short green hair, slamming the man’s face against the edge of a table to shatter the nose. The man fell back, somehow still remaining upright. He was a tough son of a bitch. Yohji started forward, a bit slow. Something told him that the man deserved it. He was an employee here. He probably did something to Aya. Why shouldn’t Yohji let Aya beat him to death?

The other employee was just as stunned as Yohji, horrified as Aya beat his fellow into a bloody mess. Yohji wondered if the man recognized Aya. Maybe this one had done something to Aya as well. Yohji went forward, able to recover from the violence faster then this inexperienced bouncer.

He punched the man right in the jugular, making him gasp and fall, scratching at his throat. His breath was a painful thing, not coming around the crushed windpipe. Yohji pulled out the wire and put one foot on the man’s chest, making sure he wouldn’t flop around. The eyes pleaded with Yohji for a second. Yohji choked him quickly, not wanting to make it last a long time. He turned to Aya, retracting the wire back into the watch.

Something about it wasn’t right, the way the song continued on in a happy, bouncy measure. Aya did a roundhouse to the employee’s bloody, smashed face, the strobe lights briefly flashing with the song. The still frames flashed before Yohji’s eyes. Aya landed and turned the other way, another kick into the man’s ribcage before the body fell to the floor. The man jerked, his body twitching with the pain. The head hit the floor with a squishing noise, the skull shattered like an egg underneath the thin protection of skin. The hair was wet with sticky, shiny red, blood coming out of the earlobe and nose. Those eyes were fogged. The man was gone, the blows to the head doing irreversible damage.

Aya kicked the man in the side, turning the body over. He would beat him as long as the man could continue to feel pain. Yohji grabbed Aya around the middle as he kicked the employee again, more toward the groin. Aya elbowed him in the side, forcing Yohji’s breath out in a grunt. He threw an arm around Aya’s neck, forcing the man back from his victim. The employee coughed, blood and stomach fluids spraying over the black floor.

"Stop it, Aya!" Yohji roared over the music. Aya tried to break free, kicking behind to Yohji’s legs. Yohji kept his footing as Aya’s heel connected to his left knee. He shook Aya hard, trying to jolt him back to his senses. Aya tried again to lunge forward at his dying victim, Yohji holding him back against his chest.

"Stop it, now!" Yohji ordered, throwing Aya down on the floor as the man tried to punch him in the face. The lights shined into Aya’s eyes and he quit struggling, realizing that it was just Yohji. He sat up, shielding his eyes even though the room was pitch black beyond the colored lighting. Yohji shook his head at Aya. That violence had been uncalled for, no matter what the man had done.

Then again, they had done the same thing to Aya. Yohji couldn’t help but feel guilty and so fucking psyched. He was in love with the ruthlessness Aya had shown for those people, even though they haunted him in his dreams. Aya had strength there, pure and simple. Even if it was just determination, nothing more. Aya had probably tucked his emotions away, at least for now. They could deal with it all later, when things were calm. Right now, they just needed to see if there was anyone else left in the clubhouse.

Yohji looked down on the floor, spotting the gun in a flash of yellow light. He scooped it up, aiming at the weakly struggling man. He might have been begging for an ambulance or something, but Yohji doubted the man had enough functioning brain area to be that coherent. He shot him in the head. Mercy killing. That was all it could be, because Yohji didn’t feel the anger that was needed for it to be revenge.

The music began to bounce again. It was ignorant of the violence they had done while it had echoed in Yohji’s ears. He looked up at Aya, breathing hard now that the room was completely empty. There didn’t seem to be a commanding villain or the like left in the house. Yohji just wasn’t getting the vibe for it. The police, ambulance, fire department, or whatever got to the scene first would be there soon. Nobody would want to get caught in that around these parts. Drug users and prostitutes feared arrest more then physical injury if they could get away now.

Yohji figured they still had time. The beat was kind of Spanish, quick in the rhythm with a loose lyric ruining through the song. It was a woman singing in a low and sultry voice, speaking the words that Yohji couldn’t understand. He took Aya’s hands, stepping in to a quick dance step. It was a tango he had learned on the week had spent on a cruise with Rebecca, the foreign businesswoman. Hadn’t that been a memorable time?

Yohji smiled at the memory even though Aya was staring at him, shocked that he would try to dance in the aftermath of the murders. Yohji just grinned at him, licking his lips. He was still turned on. That little bit of exercise hadn’t dulled any desire. If anything it had heightened it, Yohji wanting Aya’s body under him right now. He wouldn’t be able to wait if Aya didn’t strip right then.

Aya didn’t get naked, but he started to move a small bit, pulled into Yohji’s antics. He shook his head at Yohji, letting himself be spun to the left. Yohji caught his hand, letting them stand side by side, the move executed perfectly. Aya knew how to dance. He would have to ask him where he had learned some time. Maybe he had taken them when he was younger? Before that time when he suddenly became worried about his image and being untouchable.

Yohji dipped Aya and let him spin back to the front of him. He caught Aya’s hands, letting their bodies drop close together. They both stepped once back, once forward, Aya letting his hips slide to stay with Yohji. They were pressed together romantically, aggressively, both of them a little too egotistical to be forced into the woman’s position. So, they both kept their hands to the sides, Aya spinning to cross to Yohji’s other hip.

Yohji grabbed Aya’s wrists, and Aya kicked his leg up, smiling a bit with confidence. It was the woman’s move, his ankle weaving behind him with a specific, practiced movement. Aya had taken dance lessons before, and he wasn’t afraid to show off the small knowledge of expertise he had.

Forget holding back. That little twist, that provocative move had been used for centuries. Why Aya’s booted ankle turned Yohji on was beyond him. He grabbed at Aya, kissing him as hard as he could. They could do it on the floor before the authorities came. Yohji opened Aya’s belt, forgetting that it was a bad move. He couldn’t wait, how could he? Aya was beautiful, graceful, and irresistible. He hadn’t had sex in one month and six days, nearing week one.

Aya slapped Yohji’s hand away from his crotch. Yohji pulled his mouth away from the sucking void he had been trying to make against Aya’s lips. He closed his eyes, gaining back that bit of control. Fuck. What the hell had he been thinking? Shit, stupid, stupid. Aya, he wanted Aya, not the ass.

Yohji’s eyes went wide when Aya kissed him back again, slipping that bit of tongue in. Yohji swore the world exploded. He felt two nuclear bombs detonate right behind his eyes. Aya had better be ready to be made love to soon. Very soon. Like, within the next five minutes, because Yohji wanted him.

"Let’s go home," Aya asked softly into Yohji’s ear, his lips brushing against the skin. "We can take our time there. Do it right."

Yohji. Was. In. Heaven. His whole body had melted without him moving a muscle. He turned, running toward the open fire escape. Aya followed, dodging a headless body in the path. Yohji followed close behind, not even glancing back at their miniature massacre. They went out into the alley, police lights flashing onto the wall. The sirens were loud. Aya darted the other way, and Yohji got a view of that lovely rear as he ran the back way down the alley.

Yohji looked down the street as they jumped out, the crowd relatively calm. They both slowed down, blending into the street traffic. Still early night, Yohji could see by the people walking by. This sort of clubbers didn’t hang out the whole night, hitting the early beats, a little too clean and well preened to be the late night crowd. Yohji had until the morning day to do it right.

"You better be serious," Yohji checked as they merged together. Yohji slipped his hand into Aya’s back pocket. Screw the whole public decency thing. He had to keep that contact with Aya, the man forced to put his arm around Yohji’s waist if he wanted to walk comfortable. Aya walked a bit into Yohji, his shoulder brushing into Yohji’s collar.

"I’m always serious," Aya stated without a hint of humor. That’s right. Aya was always serious, onto a painfully anal point. Aya wouldn’t joke about this sort of thing. Yohji leaned down, biting on Aya’s ear for a moment as they walked, a woman staring as they passed by. So much for the fading-into-the-crowd bid.

He didn’t say that Aya was going to regret this until next week, because Aya would take back what he had just given. Yohji was going to screw Aya’s eyes out. He had hours to work with. Plenty of time to give Aya a bit of rest before going at it until the sun came up. No need to actually tell that to Aya though. He didn’t think that Aya would be exactly flattered by the attention that Yohji was going to give him.

But Aya had given him the okay. No reason to not make it slow and long. The car came into sight. Yohji was going to make love to Aya. It was like the final test for the class of making one-night stands last and all the sex between those. Yohji was going to make it the best. He was going to be able to look back on this in the later years and be fucking proud. He would still be talking about this in years to come, and Aya would remember the first good, proper loving sex he had been given.

Yohji was determined to make a lasting impression on Aya’s flesh.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: If the ethnicity bugged you, I’m sorry. It’s the politically correct gang of evil lackeys. They’re always diversified. I killed off my own culture figure, and it wasn’t even the coolest way either. Forgive in the manner of artist license? I’m really, seriously, sorry if that offended you, I’m not racist, I promise you. On the happier note: Wow, who ever thought there could be such a thing as a sexual cliffhanger? Not me! But, here it is… Anyone listen to Modern Talking? If you said no, you better change that ASAP! This took a while; I waited for it to be proofread and edited. That’s important! I made so many errors, sniff. I also reposted Chapter 8, so if it made no sense, maybe you might want to reread it…. If you feel like it. Nothing big really changed. Just grammar ‘n sentences that didn’t make sense were cut.
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I Hate Him