Games
by Lola
Author's note: Um, this is my first Weib fic so please be gentle. It's pretty sad, but well...I was depressed and angry so... if you want more let me know because I just wasn't sure if I should continue or write another chapter. Please let me know!
Pale blue light reflected off a face blessed with the innocence of youth. Blond hair tousled, slept on. Hooded indigo eyes framed in girlish lashes stared intently. Slender fingers danced over ivory keys, pausing, hesitant, then resuming. Darkness hovered outside the ring of artificial luminescence. Fingers still brushed over square keys.
A sigh escapes full parted lips. Pink. Delectable. Virginal lips.
The swivelling chair creaks, bending backward under the pressure applied by the boy's lean back. A shadow shifts in the doorway. Tall, lanky, leaning, sensual.
Watching, silently breathing in the scent of the room, unnoticed or perhaps ignored. Dilated green eyes roaming over the beauty of a boy's youth. Drinking in the portrait of childish oblivion. Unaware as the admirer holds his breath, waiting, as long thin arms rise above his head in a languid stretch, white t-shirt sliding up a toned abdomen.
A sudden cramp revealed by a pouty grimace. Fingers massaging the smooth skin of his neck as he tilts his head to the side.
The shadow takes a deliberate step forward, making his presence known. The chair creaked once more as the young boy swivelled, long legs crossed and bare.
"Konbanwa Yoji-kun". The beautiful boy greeted, moistened lips parted in a smile.
Darkened green eyes trailed the length of the teenager's sculpted legs. Change the black boxers to a mini-skirt and the woollen slippers to leather stilettos and you would have a woman with the sexiest legs Yoji had ever feasted his eyes on. And Yoji Kudou had seen his fair share of women's legs; enough to be considered a connoisseur.
Plastering a lazy smile on his lips the lanky assassin greeted the boy in turn, managing to tear his gaze away from the expanse of deliciously exposed flesh.
"Up late ne, Omi-chan", he drawled, leaning a bony hip against the younger boy's desk. Light flared briefly as he lit a cigarette. Eyes delighting in the way Omi blinked in surprise at the flash.
Omi's brow furrowed at the scent of burning tobacco. He waved his hand in Yoji's direction to ward off the stench.
"Yoji-kun!! Can't you do that outside?" He whined.
The lanky assassin exhaled slowly, letting the filmy smoke curl through the darkness to gently caress Omi's face.
Blue eyes were momentarily paralysed, transfixed on Yoji's mouth as he sucked on his cigarette, cherry tip brightening in the still darkness of the room. Omi swallowed hard. Gaze finally wrenched away. Yoji smiled.
"How was your date Yoji-kun?" Omi asked, a slight tremor marring his voice.
A sigh of relief relaxed the blond boy's posture as Yoji moved away to the window. Cigarette discarded to the street below.
Keys resumed their endless typing under the darting fingers of an expert hacker. The lanky assassin positioned directly behind the boy. Arms crossed over the back of the chair, chin resting on the blue-eyed boy's shoulder.
Shoulder muscles stiffen.
"A gentleman never kisses and tells", a sultry voice breathed against Omi's ear. Shivers immediately whispering down his neck and spine.
A nervous laugh escaped the youth, sounding more like a strangled gasp. Long fingers twined through short blond hair.
Distracting.
"Don't...onegai...my paper...I-".
Lips reddened by wine slid across the boy's jawbone below his earlobe. Something hot and wet flicked briefly against pale skin before teeth tugged suggestively at the silver loop adorning Omi's left ear.
"no...", voice quivering.
Yoji let one experienced hand explore down the front of Omi's shirt, "Why?".
"My...my hair is messy".
Yoji dragged the back of a finger along the smooth skin of Omi's chin.
"Where's your brush?"
A jerk of the boy's head indicated the dresser beside the bed.
"Omi", a voice beckoned seductively, demanding to be heeded.
The boy's body moved as if running through water. Then he was on his bed, legs dangling over the side. The computer still hummed, the screen saver twirling across the opaque screen. Less light.
None was needed.
Fingers snaked through Omi's golden hair, smoothing it behind his ears. The brush followed. Front to back. Silken strands sliding through plastic bristles. Blue eyes closed, neck tilting back with every stroke of the brush. Bliss in one simple action, one motion, one rhythm.
Every night the game is played. Pleasure, the prize.
Blue eyes strayed open to catch momentarily on the computer. Reality. Delicate fingers trapped Yoji's wrist firmly.
"Yoji-kun, I have an assignment to finish".
The motion stopped. Bottle green eyes slid over cotton clad shoulders. Long limbs shifted lazily, the weight on the bed lessened. Omi's face was obscured, shadowed by Yoji's tall body. One push. Golden hair nestled in pillows. Fingers crawled beneath his shirt, easing it upward, exposing inch by tantalizing inch of creamy skin.
"Are you...denying me?" Hot breath on Omi's neck. A blush blossomed, searing his cheeks.
Thin lips, agonizingly close but never touching. Omi whimpered. He reached up to cup Yoji's neck involuntarily, drawing him closer. Fingers lacing through unbound sandy waves. The game be damned. Desire would triumph. Hunger demanded he claim those skilled lips.
Yoji drew back, taunting. Gauging the effect he was having on the prone boy beneath him. His eyes glittered knowingly as he commanded Omi to raise his arms. His resolve having long since dissolved under the ministrations of those expert hands, the youth obeyed.
Slender fingers danced up Omi's sides.
Four eyes squinted in the sudden light flooding the room. Another silhouette in the doorway. Shocked. Eyes blinking audibly in succession.
"Ken", Omi whispered the name breathlessly. Momentary panic. His heart raced. Toned arms still poised over his head, cotton shirt hanging off small wrists. Yoji's hands glided back down the boy's arms and chest, deliberately slow, savouring.
Ken stammered an inarticulate apology for the interruption, eyes squeezed shut, arms flailing in an attempt to close the door and fumble out of the room. He froze as a tall sinuous body brushed against him. Narrow hips intentionally rubbing a flannel clad waist.
"Oyasumi...Kenken".
The former soccer player nodded dumbly, staggering to his room and quickly disappeared behind a closed door.
Green eyes fell as they glanced back to scan the dark room, the bed was empty. Keys were being pressed rapidly once again. The pace almost frantic. A sigh. The shadow was gone.
********
The drone of a teacher's voice. Large eyes barely focused on the chalk scraped board. Eyes slid across endless faces, settling on the window. Hope flickered then died. The curtains are drawn closed. Dark green velvet curtains.
The color of his eyes. The feel of his touch.
"Tsukiyono? Tsukiyono!?"
Defeated blue eyes closed, fighting tears.
"Hai hai, gomen nasai Sensei".
Hours of inattention coupled with boredom. The shrill ring of the bell. Good bye's uttered with false cheer. Feet dragged over pavement heated by the sun. Eyes downcast. Unseeing.
The scent of orchids and smoke. A throaty laugh. Answering giggles. Meaningless conversation meant only to charm. Yoji.
"Omi-kun!!" exuberant voices echoed dully in a distracted mind.
Customary smile shifted into place. Not reaching his eyes. No one noticed. Apron tied on carelessly, hands attempting to ward off overeager girls. Long arms draped over his shoulders and the girl beside him. A seductive smile for the girl. A mocking one for Omi.
Her number scrawled in red ink on a crumpled paper. The playboy strikes again.
Chocolate eyes look everywhere but at Yoji and Omi. Mumbled excuses about soccer and fetching Aya. Ken is gone.
A flick of the wrist, the cardboard sign flips against the polished glass. The shop is closed.
The young boy shoved his apron onto its hook on the wall. A sigh. Blond bangs fall over tired eyes.
"Enjoy your date Yoji-kun".
The boy is seized by the wrist before he can climb the stairs and escape the older assassin's penetrating gaze. A rough twist and his body is crushed against the man's chest. There is no point in struggling. He doesn't.
His lean body is bent back over the counter, destroying whatever flower was trapped beneath him. Greedy lips claiming his exposed neck. Teeth sink into pliant flesh. Ashen waves spray across young skin. Fingers soon tangle in the unbound mass, pulling in desperation. Just once. Those lips.
Tears gathered at the corners of blue eyes. Pink lips part, panting.
Fingers fumbled with the metal clasp on Omi's belt. A nip on a tilted chin, a whimper escaped the boy as he hopelessly tried to catch those elusive lips with his own. Youthful hands questing for the touch he so desired.
Baggy midnight black shorts slide down sculpted young legs.
The lanky assassin following the trail of the discarded clothing. Omi's hands gripped strong shoulders, clenching the soft fabric, the second skin, wanting, needing what lay beneath.
His back arched off the counter involuntarily. A bony hip dug into his thigh, grinding, as the tall man stretched over his prone body once more. Emerald pools of light met the youthful gaze beneath him. Watching as Omi swallowed, the motion of his adam's apple. The excited breath. The feel of the boy's heart beating wildly, humming against his own chest. Dark eyes glittering beneath a veil of long lashes.
Yoji's eyes closed. His lips descended. Hovering over the ripe lips of the youth. Hot breath, the scent of cinnamon. Red lips. Full. Open. Inviting.
Asuka.
Yoji felt Omi jolt, the stiffness in the line of the boy's back as his hand cupped his firm ass.
His lips met Omi's cheek sloppily.
"Why? Even now..." Omi's voice strained past the constricting lump in his throat.
Yoji ran a hand roughly through ashen waves, trembling fingers searching desperately for a pack of cigarettes on his person.
"Don't stay up too late ne Omi-chan," he said hurriedly. Stalking out of the shop stiffly.
Darkness swallowed the shop and the crumpled form of the broken boy. Flowers cast horrific shadows across the walls. Each resembling fangs sneering from gaping maws. Devouring. Omi chocked on a sob as his body folded on itself. Petals from the crushed Freesia blossom on the counter flitting down. Raining drops of velvet gold.
********
by Lola
Author's note: Um, this is my first Weib fic so please be gentle. It's pretty sad, but well...I was depressed and angry so... if you want more let me know because I just wasn't sure if I should continue or write another chapter. Please let me know!
Pale blue light reflected off a face blessed with the innocence of youth. Blond hair tousled, slept on. Hooded indigo eyes framed in girlish lashes stared intently. Slender fingers danced over ivory keys, pausing, hesitant, then resuming. Darkness hovered outside the ring of artificial luminescence. Fingers still brushed over square keys.
A sigh escapes full parted lips. Pink. Delectable. Virginal lips.
The swivelling chair creaks, bending backward under the pressure applied by the boy's lean back. A shadow shifts in the doorway. Tall, lanky, leaning, sensual.
Watching, silently breathing in the scent of the room, unnoticed or perhaps ignored. Dilated green eyes roaming over the beauty of a boy's youth. Drinking in the portrait of childish oblivion. Unaware as the admirer holds his breath, waiting, as long thin arms rise above his head in a languid stretch, white t-shirt sliding up a toned abdomen.
A sudden cramp revealed by a pouty grimace. Fingers massaging the smooth skin of his neck as he tilts his head to the side.
The shadow takes a deliberate step forward, making his presence known. The chair creaked once more as the young boy swivelled, long legs crossed and bare.
"Konbanwa Yoji-kun". The beautiful boy greeted, moistened lips parted in a smile.
Darkened green eyes trailed the length of the teenager's sculpted legs. Change the black boxers to a mini-skirt and the woollen slippers to leather stilettos and you would have a woman with the sexiest legs Yoji had ever feasted his eyes on. And Yoji Kudou had seen his fair share of women's legs; enough to be considered a connoisseur.
Plastering a lazy smile on his lips the lanky assassin greeted the boy in turn, managing to tear his gaze away from the expanse of deliciously exposed flesh.
"Up late ne, Omi-chan", he drawled, leaning a bony hip against the younger boy's desk. Light flared briefly as he lit a cigarette. Eyes delighting in the way Omi blinked in surprise at the flash.
Omi's brow furrowed at the scent of burning tobacco. He waved his hand in Yoji's direction to ward off the stench.
"Yoji-kun!! Can't you do that outside?" He whined.
The lanky assassin exhaled slowly, letting the filmy smoke curl through the darkness to gently caress Omi's face.
Blue eyes were momentarily paralysed, transfixed on Yoji's mouth as he sucked on his cigarette, cherry tip brightening in the still darkness of the room. Omi swallowed hard. Gaze finally wrenched away. Yoji smiled.
"How was your date Yoji-kun?" Omi asked, a slight tremor marring his voice.
A sigh of relief relaxed the blond boy's posture as Yoji moved away to the window. Cigarette discarded to the street below.
Keys resumed their endless typing under the darting fingers of an expert hacker. The lanky assassin positioned directly behind the boy. Arms crossed over the back of the chair, chin resting on the blue-eyed boy's shoulder.
Shoulder muscles stiffen.
"A gentleman never kisses and tells", a sultry voice breathed against Omi's ear. Shivers immediately whispering down his neck and spine.
A nervous laugh escaped the youth, sounding more like a strangled gasp. Long fingers twined through short blond hair.
Distracting.
"Don't...onegai...my paper...I-".
Lips reddened by wine slid across the boy's jawbone below his earlobe. Something hot and wet flicked briefly against pale skin before teeth tugged suggestively at the silver loop adorning Omi's left ear.
"no...", voice quivering.
Yoji let one experienced hand explore down the front of Omi's shirt, "Why?".
"My...my hair is messy".
Yoji dragged the back of a finger along the smooth skin of Omi's chin.
"Where's your brush?"
A jerk of the boy's head indicated the dresser beside the bed.
"Omi", a voice beckoned seductively, demanding to be heeded.
The boy's body moved as if running through water. Then he was on his bed, legs dangling over the side. The computer still hummed, the screen saver twirling across the opaque screen. Less light.
None was needed.
Fingers snaked through Omi's golden hair, smoothing it behind his ears. The brush followed. Front to back. Silken strands sliding through plastic bristles. Blue eyes closed, neck tilting back with every stroke of the brush. Bliss in one simple action, one motion, one rhythm.
Every night the game is played. Pleasure, the prize.
Blue eyes strayed open to catch momentarily on the computer. Reality. Delicate fingers trapped Yoji's wrist firmly.
"Yoji-kun, I have an assignment to finish".
The motion stopped. Bottle green eyes slid over cotton clad shoulders. Long limbs shifted lazily, the weight on the bed lessened. Omi's face was obscured, shadowed by Yoji's tall body. One push. Golden hair nestled in pillows. Fingers crawled beneath his shirt, easing it upward, exposing inch by tantalizing inch of creamy skin.
"Are you...denying me?" Hot breath on Omi's neck. A blush blossomed, searing his cheeks.
Thin lips, agonizingly close but never touching. Omi whimpered. He reached up to cup Yoji's neck involuntarily, drawing him closer. Fingers lacing through unbound sandy waves. The game be damned. Desire would triumph. Hunger demanded he claim those skilled lips.
Yoji drew back, taunting. Gauging the effect he was having on the prone boy beneath him. His eyes glittered knowingly as he commanded Omi to raise his arms. His resolve having long since dissolved under the ministrations of those expert hands, the youth obeyed.
Slender fingers danced up Omi's sides.
Four eyes squinted in the sudden light flooding the room. Another silhouette in the doorway. Shocked. Eyes blinking audibly in succession.
"Ken", Omi whispered the name breathlessly. Momentary panic. His heart raced. Toned arms still poised over his head, cotton shirt hanging off small wrists. Yoji's hands glided back down the boy's arms and chest, deliberately slow, savouring.
Ken stammered an inarticulate apology for the interruption, eyes squeezed shut, arms flailing in an attempt to close the door and fumble out of the room. He froze as a tall sinuous body brushed against him. Narrow hips intentionally rubbing a flannel clad waist.
"Oyasumi...Kenken".
The former soccer player nodded dumbly, staggering to his room and quickly disappeared behind a closed door.
Green eyes fell as they glanced back to scan the dark room, the bed was empty. Keys were being pressed rapidly once again. The pace almost frantic. A sigh. The shadow was gone.
********
The drone of a teacher's voice. Large eyes barely focused on the chalk scraped board. Eyes slid across endless faces, settling on the window. Hope flickered then died. The curtains are drawn closed. Dark green velvet curtains.
The color of his eyes. The feel of his touch.
"Tsukiyono? Tsukiyono!?"
Defeated blue eyes closed, fighting tears.
"Hai hai, gomen nasai Sensei".
Hours of inattention coupled with boredom. The shrill ring of the bell. Good bye's uttered with false cheer. Feet dragged over pavement heated by the sun. Eyes downcast. Unseeing.
The scent of orchids and smoke. A throaty laugh. Answering giggles. Meaningless conversation meant only to charm. Yoji.
"Omi-kun!!" exuberant voices echoed dully in a distracted mind.
Customary smile shifted into place. Not reaching his eyes. No one noticed. Apron tied on carelessly, hands attempting to ward off overeager girls. Long arms draped over his shoulders and the girl beside him. A seductive smile for the girl. A mocking one for Omi.
Her number scrawled in red ink on a crumpled paper. The playboy strikes again.
Chocolate eyes look everywhere but at Yoji and Omi. Mumbled excuses about soccer and fetching Aya. Ken is gone.
A flick of the wrist, the cardboard sign flips against the polished glass. The shop is closed.
The young boy shoved his apron onto its hook on the wall. A sigh. Blond bangs fall over tired eyes.
"Enjoy your date Yoji-kun".
The boy is seized by the wrist before he can climb the stairs and escape the older assassin's penetrating gaze. A rough twist and his body is crushed against the man's chest. There is no point in struggling. He doesn't.
His lean body is bent back over the counter, destroying whatever flower was trapped beneath him. Greedy lips claiming his exposed neck. Teeth sink into pliant flesh. Ashen waves spray across young skin. Fingers soon tangle in the unbound mass, pulling in desperation. Just once. Those lips.
Tears gathered at the corners of blue eyes. Pink lips part, panting.
Fingers fumbled with the metal clasp on Omi's belt. A nip on a tilted chin, a whimper escaped the boy as he hopelessly tried to catch those elusive lips with his own. Youthful hands questing for the touch he so desired.
Baggy midnight black shorts slide down sculpted young legs.
The lanky assassin following the trail of the discarded clothing. Omi's hands gripped strong shoulders, clenching the soft fabric, the second skin, wanting, needing what lay beneath.
His back arched off the counter involuntarily. A bony hip dug into his thigh, grinding, as the tall man stretched over his prone body once more. Emerald pools of light met the youthful gaze beneath him. Watching as Omi swallowed, the motion of his adam's apple. The excited breath. The feel of the boy's heart beating wildly, humming against his own chest. Dark eyes glittering beneath a veil of long lashes.
Yoji's eyes closed. His lips descended. Hovering over the ripe lips of the youth. Hot breath, the scent of cinnamon. Red lips. Full. Open. Inviting.
Asuka.
Yoji felt Omi jolt, the stiffness in the line of the boy's back as his hand cupped his firm ass.
His lips met Omi's cheek sloppily.
"Why? Even now..." Omi's voice strained past the constricting lump in his throat.
Yoji ran a hand roughly through ashen waves, trembling fingers searching desperately for a pack of cigarettes on his person.
"Don't stay up too late ne Omi-chan," he said hurriedly. Stalking out of the shop stiffly.
Darkness swallowed the shop and the crumpled form of the broken boy. Flowers cast horrific shadows across the walls. Each resembling fangs sneering from gaping maws. Devouring. Omi chocked on a sob as his body folded on itself. Petals from the crushed Freesia blossom on the counter flitting down. Raining drops of velvet gold.
********