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Violet	By : SnM Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2597 -:- 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
- 1-Violet
- 1
Violet

Notes: Yaoi lemon Yoji-P.O.V. songfic. Yoji-seme, Aya-uke. I call it my philosophical lemon... Slight language, possible squick factor (given the fact that it would’ve been a bit more ‘sanitary’ if Aya’d taken a shower first...), maybe a very minimal amount of angst. Violet belongs to Savage Garden. Weiss Kreuz belongs to Project Weiss and Takehito Koyasu.

If there's a way that you could be everything you want to be,

Would you complain that it came to easy?

I have to admit, I’ve always found him to be absolutely irresistible. He’s simply gorgeous, with the marble skin, and the red hair, and the stunning violet eyes. I never took myself seriously before, though, mostly due to the fact that he’s absolute stone. Nothing is easy in his world. His sister this, Takatori that, revenge this way, bitterness like so… He’s a fucking statue, that man.

But not for long.

Just like the games with you and me,

A resolution hard to see,

But that's O.K. 'cause I don't see things that are plain to see.

He’s standing in the kitchen, and the light on the refrigerator’s water dispenser is the only source of illumination in the entire room. I smirk in the darkness of the hallway. ‘How romantic…’

He’s leaning on the fridge side of the large icebox, so the light shines harshly on his face from below. He looks like some sort of strange ghost… He has a glass in his hand, and I can only assume that he’s up for a late night drink.

That’s not all he’s going to get tonight, though. I have other plans for those taut lips.

It’s been dancing between us for months. Actually, this night has probably been lurking in both of our minds since we first met. Since I threaded my wire around him on that moonlit rooftop, I have wanted him to be mine. Since I dragged him, unconscious, into my bed after his fight with Ken, I have wanted him to wake up and look at me.

I know he can’t be all stone. He may seem like the coldest bastard that ever lived, but… No. No one can be so passionate about death and not be equally passionate about life, in all its sensual glory. I am certain that he’s not just physically breathtaking. There is so much more to him than that, I know.

I've got a dream to take you over

Exploding like a supernova.

The way I see it, he’s a blue flame. It looks like it might be cold to the touch, but, no, it’s so hot that it burns you all the way through. In the study of the heavenly bodies, the hottest stars don’t appear red… They look blue. Sort of like that shocking colour of his eyes… Dusky, twilight purple.

Ever since I first saw him, I’ve dreamed of his white skin under my lips, and daydreamed about what sort of sounds he would make as he came. Mostly, I want to know what it feels like to control someone so solid and isolated. What does it feel like to stand at the top of the mountain and know that you’ve conquered the world?

I want to make Aya reach his peak.

I'm going to crash into your world

And that's no lie.

Well… No time like the present.

I move out of the shadows, toward the dark kitchen. I know he can hear me, but he doesn’t look up. He is staring at the linoleum floor…

I can feel my heartbeat speeding up, and I can almost taste his alabaster skin on the tip of my tongue. This is going to be delicious.

I close the space between the door and the fridge in a few strides. Suddenly, I am there, across from him. The refrigerator serves as my prop as I stretch out an arm and lean close to him, closing off any escape to his left.

He looks at me with those supernova eyes, burning bright from some unseen source of illumination, and I know before he even opens his mouth what it is that he wants. I know not only what he wants, but exactly what he’s going to do.

“You want to give ecstasy delivered with certainty,” I whisper to him, letting my lips brush the soft, red hair that caresses the shell of his ear.

“But you're afraid that the pleasure won't be needed,” he replies. Apparently we are on the same page in the proverbial script. I smile.

“You’re a bright man, Fujimiya,” I return. My lips are still close to his pale ear, and his cool breath slides down the side of my neck with his every exhalation.

In a way, we're the same two people looking out to sea

For a wave that would carry all our fantasies.

“What do you really want?” I ask, half a gasp, as his lips touch my skin. I thought I knew where this was going, but... Do I?

“Nobody can say,” he says.

“Nobody?”

“Not a living soul.” He is so confident, so distant and cold, and I want to melt him.

“I think I have an idea.”

I move my head down, so that his lips are brushing awkwardly against my hair, and mine are touching his white neck.

Sure enough, it tastes sweet, and a little bit like sweat, because that is a thing of sleep. I know that he takes his showers in the morning, after he wakes up at daybreak. Then there isn’t a sound out of him until he comes around for breakfast. Sometimes I wake up with him simply so that I can make love to myself listening to his silence.

He gasps quietly as I run my tongue down the cord of his throat. I close my mouth, and chuckle, a half-hum vibrating against his skin.

If there's a way to infiltrate you,

Sway your mind and complicate you...

“Do you think I’m good at guessing?” I ask, moving my lips against his skin.

“You’re getting warmer,” he hisses back.

And I know I am. And so is he. I can hear him breaking down down in the way his breath hitches slightly in his throat, sense it in the way his body is arched ever so slightly, almost pressing against me.

“Should I keep guessing?” I lick at him again. He doesn’t answer with anything more decisive than a gasp.

There is something sensual tingling in my veins, warm and electric, and I know that he is feeling it, too. I know this is what he wants. I know this is how to get what I want. Break him down slowly, inch by inch, step by step.

Aya is a complex person. He layers his troubles and agonies one on top of the other. I’m going to press and press until he shatters and collapses. I can see him now, shattering like the porcelain that he is, a beautiful mess on the linoleum floor.

When you put hot water in a cold glass, it will break, because the glass is not strong enough.

I am going to reach into him, touch fingertips with his soul, and watch as he shatters.

It isn’t as cruel as it sounds. It will be beautiful. Shattered glass looks like diamonds.

I'm going to crash into your world

And that's no lie.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, my lips tickling his collarbone. I push my fingers under the collar of his over-sized, white Oxford shirt, letting my fingertips brush the smooth skin of his back.

His breath is a sigh preceding his reply. “I don’t trust anyone...” His eyes are rolled back in his head, half-lidded.

“Do you want to trust me?” I withdraw my hands from his back, and he tenses a little, perhaps out of disappointment.

“Should I?” he moans quietly as I work at undoing two of the buttons.

“Oh, yes,” I murmur, nudging the white fabric of his shirt apart with my face, letting my fingers ghost up and down his clothed sides.

Let your body move into the doorway

To the disco inside your head. (Violet)

He moves with me as I kiss his left nipple. He gasps once more, and there is an audible shattering noise.

He has dropped his glass is sus surprise, or pleasure, or whatever it is. I chuckle, and move to over to my left, and gently worry his other nipple between my lips.

Heat is surging through me, and I glory in it, pressing it into him. This is what I live for, live with, what I absorb from my various lovers. I wonder briefly whether he is a stranger to this. He is so cold that I cannot imagine that he knows it. But no matter, I’ll gladly give some of my own heat to him to help thaw him out.

I can feel it affecting him, and I know that the same sort of warmth is pulsing through his body, too. His skin, which was icy when I first touched him, now has a warm blush against my fingertips.

This is a constant marching through snow, a drop through icy water, but so sensual.

This is what I dream of. Every night, visions of a beautiful man man made of clear ice fill my sleeping mind, and the wintry sculpture dissolves around my lips as I devour him.

The mouth is often thought of as hot. But his is not so warm, I note as I abandon his chest and kiss him once more. But I am remedying that, pushing heat into his damp, cavernous mouth with my tongue.

He doesn’t seem to mind, and pushes back with a fervor I have always expected from him. He sighs gently into my mouth, and I pull away to suck on his lower lip. He darts out his tongue to brush over my upper lip, as though he is inviting me back in.

I am not a rude person, and it is not my place to turn down such a gracious invitation. He opens his mouth to me without the slightest bit of hesitation, and I can taste a bit of heat on the insides of his cheeks. It tastes sweet, and it is addictive, and I have the urge to make every inch of him feel hot and wet, exactly like this.

Wear a colour that you want to cling to

The colour inside your head. (Violet)

I pull away once more and stare at his face. There is a faint blush creeping across his pale cheeks.

I spend a long moment studying the bluish veins on his opal eyelids. Then they slide open and he is staring at me once more.

“Give me a reason to trust you,” he says in a hushed, urgent tone. This is a voice I have never heard him use, and it stokes the fire inside me even more.

I have changed my mind. I am going to make this as easy for him as possible.

Contemplate jealousy intermixed with urgency.

A million things take a damned good shot at you and me.

I unbutton two more of the shirt’s pearly, plastic buttons at the top, and three more from the bottom up. I slide the shirt off him so that the pale, lean shoulders are exposed. The shirt gathers around the crook in his elbows instead of falling all the way off him because his arms are bent upwards, his fingers laced in my hair.

“Very well,” I reply, giving a kiss to each hip bone before sliding my tongue over the tip of his erection.

He moans again, louder than he did before, and I smile, my curved lips centimeters away from the tip of his penis.

I lick his head once more and slide my tongue down the underside of his erection. He is trembling oh-so-slightly now, and his breath is hitching eagerly in his throat again.

If there's a way to infiltrate you,

Sway your mind and complicate you...

I continue my ministrations carefully, up the underside, over, and down again. I lick up to his abdomen and follow a similar trail back to his testicles once more.

“Oh...” he says, although it may simply be the sound his gasps are making now.

This may very well be the best sort of mind control that I know of. No matter what the boons of hot coals or dripping water may be, I say that a warm and willing tongue is the best form of persuasion known to man.

I'm going to crash into your world

And that's no lie.

As I envelop his erection with my whole mouth, I wonder whether he saw this all coming.

Judging by his reactions, I would say yes. But, then, he never gave me any indication that he knew I was stalking him like I was. Could he really be so well-guarded that he didn’t let a single hint of his passion slip past his protections?

Let your body move into the doorway

To the disco inside your head. (Violet)

Surprising as it may be that a person could be capable of such a thing, I wouldn’t put it past him. As a man who has dealt with his own grief, I know that it is easier to hold everything in than it is to let go. It is easier to keep reaching and grasping at something that is gone than it is to turn your back and look for something new.

Wear a colour that you want to cling to

The colour inside your head. (Violet)

Love is like light, in that is ephemeral and tenuous, and disappears with the clouds.

With Aya, though, it is different. His light is the sick purple before a storm, as is mine. Maybe that is why I always slip away from my lovers before they can fully touch me.

Alone, Aya is a dangerous storm cloud, and I am, too. Violent, volatile, and beautiful. Together, we are in the middle of a storm, in the eye of the hurricane, at peace.

That is, until I break him.

I'm gonna take you,

I'll do my best to break you.

I can feel orgasm creeping up on him. He is shaking, his breath nothing more than stinted, vicious gasps. He is thrusting desperately into my mouth.

I put both my hands on his hips to stop him and I pull away. The taste of his flesh lingers sweetly on my tongue and on the inside of my cheeks.

I lick up his hip. He tastes like sugared sweat, and I like it. I wouldn’t have to drink if I had this to sample every night. I nip at the protruding, rounded bone there. He moans wordlessly, an enigma to the very end.

But not so much. He hides his lust less and less. His is losing his edge. His fever-bright eyes open and he looks down at me, catches me looking up at his flushed face. His eyes say it all, but... I realize that that strange, burning cold passion has always been there. It has simply been subdued, and my own heat has caused a subtle, but noticeable, change in his gaze.

“Do you trust me now?” I whisper into the flesh on his side, loud enough so that he can still hear me.

I'm gonna take you higher

And that's no lie.

He chuckles under his breath, which has regained a slight modicum of evenness.

“I could use a little more convincing,” he says, leaning heavily against the refrigerator.

I shift, mindful of the broken glass to my left. “Spread you legs, then.”

He does so, and I grip his waist to pull him down a little, so that his knees bend. His fingers slide out of my hair to grasp my shoulder as I move my head beneath him and kiss the crevice of his pert bottom.

He groans as I extend my tongue and seek out his rectum.

Common sense is a game many people don't like to play,

But give it in and the moment takes you either way.

His resolve is more delicate than ever now. It does not take long for his to break under my probing ministrations.

“Enough!” he gasps, and I remove my tongue from his clenching ring of muscles.

I pull my head out from between his legs, smirking. His damp, hot fingers caress my cheek, and brush my lips. I pull his blunt-nailed fingers into my mouth and suckle them for a few moments before releasing them and looking him directly in the eye.

“Trust me now?” I ask.

“Yes!” he moans, and he clutches at my nightshirt, beginning to pull it up, over my head. I allow him, raising my arms to help him.

It is a rare night when I sleep clothed, but I decided earlier that I would at least put on a shirt, to save my dignity in the case that Aya turned me down tonight. Obviously he hadn’t.

“I've got a dream to take you over,” I whisper to him.

“Exploding like a supernova.” This is his agreement.

“I'm going to crash into your world,” I say, standing up.

“And that's no lie.” I grasp his waist against and pull his hips a little further away from the refrigerator door.

He is hot all over, as am I. He is pressed against the cool, white door, our feet firmly planted on the cold, white floor.

Let your body move into the doorway

To the disco inside your head. (Violet)

I press the tip of my erection at his slicked opening.

This is it. I feel his body relax in my arms, his arms loosening around my neck. His head falls back limply against the door behind him, his eyes open and staring, bright, and hot, and dangerous, and cold. I lean my head so that I can be closer to him. I feel his breath against my cheek as he sighs, and I kiss his open, hot mouth.

I slide inside him in one fluid motion. He and I both gasp at the scope of feeling.

Wear a colour that you want to cling to

The colour inside your head. (Violet)

I can feel every soft inch of him around me, and it’s almost more than I can handle.

I start to move inside him, slowly and carefully, trying as well as I can to ensure his enjoyment, as well as mine. Tiny shocks of white light slide up and down my spine, delicious.

He doesn’t seem to be hurting. He is utterly relaxed, taking deep, gasping breaths through his mouth. His eyes are closed, his face a gorgeous mix of pink blush and white skin, of shadow and illumination, of ecstasy and calm.

But now his eyes snap open, the violent purple of storm clouds, and he grabs my ass and starts to push me harder and faster into him. I don’t mind at all. One of his legs slips up and wraps around my waist, pushing at me as well. He is breathing shallowly through his nose, now, and his eyes bore hard into mine.

I don’t mind meeting his gaze, as combustible as it is. I wonder absently how mine looks, but find I don’t care. I am much too wrapped up in the tingling heat that is bearing me towards completion.

If there's a way that you could be everything you want to be,

Would you complain that it came too easy?

“Here it is,” he gasps softly, right into my ear.

And I agree.

I orgasm, sending my heat into him with alarming force. I throw my head back, and he latches onto the skin of my throat. I can’t make a sound, and my mouth gapes silently as I take my last thrusts.

My last, wild slams into his body trigger his orgasm, and he purses his lips against my neck and shakes against me, spasming with a crazy sort of urgency. The light in his eyes is a bright dawn colour, something that I am sure will stay with me forever.

We are both barely aware of what is going on beyond us. I have no idea what time it is, or, really, where I am anymore. All I can think of is how erotic it was to be inside him, and how good it felt, and how hot his skin is now.

We slide onto the floor together and I pull out of him. Curling up behind him, I mold my sweaty, sticky body to his back, and he presses contentedly against me.

In a way, we're the same two people looking out to sea

For a wave that would carry all our fate.

“That’s what you really wanted, wasn’t it?” I whisper into his damp hair.

There is water all over the floor, and the only logical explanation I can think of is that when he dropped the glass, it was still full of water.

But I know that isn’t the real reason why the floor is wet, because I have seen Aya melt hundreds of times in my dreams before.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, it was.”

I smile into his hair, letting my forehead and nose rest against the thick locks.

“And that’s no lie.”
- 1
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Violet