BY : MikoNoHoshi
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 4283
Disclaimer: I get no money from writing these fics, nor I don't own Weiss. In fact, I'm not even allowed to touch the pretty least not in any of their special places...

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Seize Me

He had told himself not to do it. He demanded his breathing stay regular and forbade his body to run.

It had crossed him mind that it was some bizarre form of punishment, but his owner’s face told a different story. Yohji had worn not the satisfied, anticipatory smirk so often seen on his Master, but a vague impression of fear. Then the hand had closed around his arm, hard enough to bruise, but not intending to hurt.

Aya had known they were customers. He understood that they were young and female and hardly a serious threat. When the first few arrived, the discomfort had been nearly a knee-jerk response to a crowd, a result of being unable to see the entire room clearly. His keeper could hide there, and he wouldn’t be ready for the impending punishment.

If they had stayed at that distance, Aya might have made it okay. He might not have thoroughly embarrassed himself by freaking out over a bunch of young girls.

But when he had been surrounded, trapped, the first memories had leapt forward. He fought valiantly, simultaneously trying to process the barrage of questions that had been ten times worse than the simple, yes, no things Yohji had aimed at him earlier. It was uncomfortable, and he had thought of Schuldig’s prying inquiries as the man touched him while his own hands were tied.

Then someone really touched him. It had been a light tug to the bottom of his shirt, the hand brushing almost inadvertently over the seat of his jeans. A hundred awful memories sprang from the touch, surging over his conscious awareness; it was suddenly Crawford’s hand on his arm. Aya had found himself standing and had been desperate to kneel, to shield himself from the his Master, knowing the man would shove him down, barely letting him breath as he pushed roughly into his body.

He didn’t remember leaving the shop, concerned only with hiding, and at the same time knowing he couldn’t get away.

Then there had been his owner’s, Yohji’s voice. He hadn’t heard the words, but the arms around him didn’t push or demand or hurt. Yohji was warm and still, and Aya had had time to realize where he was.

He was safe.


He held to the man, trying to keep himself in the present, dreading the irrational rush of the past that made his heart race with forced adrenaline.

Yohji was safe.

It only occurred to him to move when his owner tried to shift him away; his mind felt drowsy, overwhelmed and trying to escape into oblivion as it made the rapid shift from terror to ascertained safety. Yohji was trying to see his face, and when Aya looked up he caught something strange in the green eyes.

Was it—

Before the idea had half-formed, Yohji had moved.

He didn’t grab, just rested his head against Aya’s own. The sudden concern vanished from Aya’s mind, too much at odds with the pressing evidence of his owner’s protection. He was grateful when Yohji drew him close again, glad and unsure why or how it could be good to be so near.

“Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you. I…I’ll protect you.”

The embrace said he would. He had.


Aya felt his hold on the world slipping, his focus drawn to the one word. Exhausted and weak, he rested against Yohji’s chest feeling warm.

“I mean it. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Aya.”



“Yohji, a little help here!” Ken’s voice echoed through the house.

He had to move. Having gotten Aya close to him, finally giving up to instinct and pulling the boy into a hug for comfort, Yohji was more than a tad reluctant to let go. He was also afraid Aya might bolt. Though the boy was lax, almost asleep in his arms, there was a good chance he had seen it in Yohji’s eyes, that momentary desire to …well, to something that wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good.

It really wasn’t a big deal. Aya just looked so drastically different that Yohji’s brain just hadn’t had time to realize he was the same person. And he was beautiful, strange and exotic, and when this was removed, for the spare moments that the illusion lasted, from the damaged Aya that shared his bed, Yohji had found himself swept up in the boy.

Desire had been subsumed, not instantly but quickly, with the need to protect and comfort and just hold. Despite everyone’s opinion to the contrary, Yohji wasn’t controlled by his libido, at least not twenty-four seven. True, it had been making a fuss, but it hadn’t been just his dick responding to Aya.

He wasn’t sure that was better or worse.

He was sure that he needed to go out and get laid. That would help. It always did.

But first, he had to let go of Aya, then he had to go and kill Ken.

Relaxing his arms, Yohji let them fall away, making sure he could stand before taking a step backwards. Aya looked worn out.

Yohji wanted to reach out and stroke that red hair, gently. Maybe if he just—


Damn it. He was seriously going to kill Ken, or at least drop a flower pot on his foot.

“I’ve got to go back in there.” There was some tensing at that, a clear sign that Aya did not want to go back to the crowded shop and grabbing hands of the girls. “Why don’t you go to our room and rest?”

Yes, Yohji. His mind supplied the phrase before it was spoken.


Not sure what to make of that, or of the last half hour in general, Yohji just nodded and, after stepping out of his way, watched Aya go up the steps.


The door shut quietly, and Aya walked into the bedroom without turning on the light. The room’s single window faced west, and the afternoon sun slanted through the blinds to cast narrow bars across the bed and floor. Aya stood for a minute, breathing in the quiet, debating where he might lay down to take a nap. Yohji would want him to sleep on the bed, but—

Hands grabbed him suddenly, yanking him back against a solid body. An iron arm fell across his stomach, and fingers pressed against his mouth and nose, stifling his breath and any noise he might have made.

//Hello, kätzchen.//


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