Title: Dark Release

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belongs to Koyasu Takehito, and unfortunately I don't own the bishounen, though there is the possibility of me merging with the TV screen and joining them in their universe. Did I mention they were single?

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Lemon (later on), yaoi, angst, explicit language.

Pairings Yohji/Aya

Summary: What does your lover think about while you sleep? Sometimes it's better to pretend you don't notice, yet what are the consequences. Yohji's point of view on a slumbering Aya and Aya's response to the strange turn of events that follow.

AN: There are those who have read my fic, Silly boy, we'll this is sort of a better version of it, I was challenged to turn it into the point of view of both lovers. Sorry about any inconvenience, this fic is better than the first one and chapter two will be coming very soon. This is still Yohji's POV, I added some things so that later on it will fit with Aya's actions and thoughts, so bear w/ me for now, I promise it'll get better. On with the story!!!

Part I: Naiveté

(Yohji)

Silly boy.

I watched him grow,

and crushed his smile

I saw him laugh,

and made him cry

I caused his pain,

then killed his joy

I watched him die,

my silly boy.

Here he lies dead,

After all he's been through.

Tears stain my face,

And I cry too.

I sit up in bed, the softness of the mattress too comforting for me; reaching over to the old nightstand I find the keys, the thin metal cold in my sweaty palm. Hesitantly, I slip out of bed, painfully ignoring the still form sleeping beside me. I stare at the small space of the shabby apartment, not knowing what possessed me to bring him here. Maybe because I needed closure or just simply because I wanted some time away from my real life, it didn't matter that he shared that life with me also, we all have different degrees of sin. The room is moldy though the sheets on the bed are clean, there's scarcely any furniture, and the few pieces present are broken and old.

I feel no guilt for taking him to this place, it's some sort of punishment, at least that's what I wanted it to be, but now I'm just tired. We had been playing the sport of cat and mouse for months, yet this was the culmination: sex. His sister died and he went into a state far too depressing to remember, I coaxed him out of it. It was foolish of me to do so, since unknowingly I had coaxed my own heart out of its hiding place. I wonder if he will give me that nasty sneer of his if I tell him I care and that I want much more than just a simple night of animal fucking. Shaking my head I snort derisively, he'll probably just give me one of his shi-ne glares and stalk out of the room. The next day he will just pretend that nothing happened. That's the way he is, and I've come to accept him, but what scares me is the fact that he will never accept me.

The need to get away is overpowering, I'm dirty and sticky although I refuse to recall how that came about, the heat of his skin and the heavy breathing mingled with our coupling is still too fresh in my mind. The reason is that I'm too much of a coward to face the other side of our strange relationship. I'm not used to going out with beautiful women and leaving them standing foolishly or shouting after me. It's all his fault, they don't have his pale skin and the don't possess that beautiful shade of red hair, radiant curls that become light pink in sunlight and a deep burgundy at night or when they're damp. Striding over to the window at the corner of the room, I lay on my back, the coldness of the hard floor chilling my shriveled skin, yet it is nothing compared to the ice in my body. My idle gaze drifts over to the sleeping street, people down there are merely content in spending meaningless reality robotically carrying out typical functions of life in what they call self-righteousness for themselves and whoever they are trying to impress. We all have secrets, I wonder what he has to reveal.

The room is dark, the black void engulfing me, yet I like it, it represents my own darkness, rays will illuminate the space, unlike me, I can never have light in my soul, laughing softly at that thought, I correct myself, more like I don't have a soul. I draw up my knees sluggishly and embrace them with limp arms. I'm entranced by everything around me, the disfigured shapes dancing along with scurrying shadows. This often occurs; my few minutes of utter madness, the times when I look at an object and point at it like a youngster, then begin laughing and laughing, never stopping until insanity subsides, and then a frighteningly sober peace enters me. At times I wonder what goes on in the mind of every murderer, mostly because I don't know what goes on in my own mind; it's all in a jumble, a jumble that I don't want to sort out.

My body arches into an invisible embrace, I feel the frosty presence behind me, his silent way of letting me know that he's there, my lips try to smile and the attempt has gone awry. I don't think that that I've ever graced anyone with a real smile, an upward pull of the lips along with a fake sparkle in the eyes is as far as I can go; they all seem to accept it. A slim hand caresses my neck, the feathery brush makes me shudder, lips gently kiss the column, I know those pale lips, I have come to know and explore the hard and soft contours of that yielding mouth. All of a sudden it's not enough, he knows I abhor him as much as I love him, I turn away, yet he isn't fazed by my rejection, but I'm flooded with his gentle acknowledgment, as if patting me on the head for growing up or accomplishing some impossible feat.

I sense his noiseless retreat, gracefully accepting my desire to be alone; I hear the sound of his feet, muffled by carpets strewn across the room. He is always beautiful in all he does and all he says, quite a contrast from me. I wonder what made him allow me to fuck him senseless tonight, he had said in that arctic voice of his "We both want it, so why not?" then shaking his head he had gotten into his Porsche and asked me where we going, carefully stating that he would follow in his own car. It's just like him to do that, if he didn't like it, he would run, as he always did when I kissed him or tried to push things to far, he ran, but never recognized this as an act of cowardice, the bastard thought he was perfect and what made me detest him so much is that he really was, both on the outside and on the inside, at least that's what I think.

So we came here, out of all nights he had wanted this night specifically to give into me completely. I didn't ask questions; that would make him uncomfortable, we didn't speak. He has his strange quirks just like I have mine, just because we have become fuck buddies doesn't mean we can invade each other's personal space, the rules were: the flesh is for pleasure and emotions are to be locked away safely. At least those were his rules, he should have known that Yohji Kudoh never follows the rules, but this time I broke them stupidly, I let myself feel, my emotions were supposed to be dead, I have no idea how he managed to get to me like this, it's all his fault.

"Fuck."

I hear the bed creak beneath his weight, slyly tempting me to join him, yet I don't know why, but I stay on the floor, I don't have the courage to face him in the darkness, pale and glorious in his nudity. I guess I'm weaker than I thought, he told me this once, and as always he's right. I can't stand on my own, there may have been a time in the past when I was able to do so, but now he is my anchor to the real world, because out of all of us, he has kept his head stable, on the other hand, I've gone into deep shit.

Damn, I need to stay awake, flattening my palms on the floor I lean back on my elbows the awkward position keeps my bloodshot eyes open. I urge my feeble limbs to rise, they do so clumsily, and I stumble over to the side of the bed, satisfied in watching him sleep.

I see the outline of his slender body through the sleek barrier of white fabric, the lazy undulating pale muscles painted on the long body, however they only reach his waist and remain twisted there, depriving me of what I've wanted for so long, giving a tantalizing view of the secret beneath, and I had him, but only for a short time. I inhale, quenching the urge to laugh at a time like this; I'm forced to leave the best thing that has come along in my miserable life; and all because he demands it. He had told me that I could get what I wanted but only for tonight. Carved porcelain, that's what he is, with long legs entangled in the sheets, he may be faultless in everything, but he's a messy sleeper, plus he likes to cuddle, though if I mention it, I may have to face the blade of his katana. I love his body, the sharp angles and lean curves, and I want all of him.

I've always treasured his crimson hair; errant locks are spilled on the snowy pillow like a halo of blood. I want to touch him but I'm afraid to mar the unblemished beauty, the long curve of black lashes remain still in their elegant arc, polished ebony emphasizing the flawless white flesh beneath, his chiseled lips are slightly parted with a soft sheen of saliva, I want to be the one to lick them...... repeatedly. He stirs and places his hand under a white cheek sleeping like a peaceful boy in Paradise and mindless of my demonic torment. He is like a pouty child in his sleep, the child I never was, I chuckle, he would kill me if he found out that I called him a child, his damned pride would not spare my life.

His profile seems to be silhouetted by the blackness of the room, he appears to be glowing. The forgotten keys jingle in my hands, reminding me that I'm expected to leave, he would not appreciate it if I remained until morning cradling him in my arms; that would arouse the suspicions of his vindictive mind, it would show that I care. Caring is a word that Aya has forgotten and love may just have never existed in his own universe. I no longer have the strength to fight, he is the only thing keeping me away from the edge of madness, and my need for him is overpowering my senses. Smiling in resignation, I place a kiss on the smooth forehead and step away. Pulling on my clothes hastily, I approach the door, my clingy shirt is already sticking to the dried fluid on my stomach, his cum, it's something to remind me of this night.

I turn the knob.

"Yohji."

The whispered word slithers like an echo, and burns the blood in my veins. I turn back to look at him and my breathing stops, his head is lowered as he sits on the side of the bed, crimson eartails brush softly against the flat nipples on his chest, long legs, white and elegant, dangle from the bed as deep violet eyes peek through short burgundy tresses, a painful image flashes in my mind, reminding me of those pale legs wrapped tightly around me as I slammed into his slim body, I hear his pleasured moans and for a second I can't think. Aya is staring at me quizzically; the probing gaze that like the sword he wields seeks to cut through my skull to rip the erotic images from me. He had watched me dress while I was too caught up in my disturbed thoughts, asshole, but then again he is always soundless when moving, I hadn't even realized.

I shrug, pretending a careless motion when I'm so affected by him, though I'll never let him know it, if he did, he would flee. My lazy mask is in place, working perfectly with my careless demeanor.

"I'm gone, see you Ayan," I drawl, as if he was just a fling, I wish I could tell him that this was so much more.

"Yohji."

This time the voice stops me in my tracks, I feel the anger and hurt emanating from him. Damn he moves fast, now he is right behind me, his arms encase my middle tightly, tapered fingers caress my clothed stomach, and he plants a soft kiss on my shoulder, I'm responsive to his touch, no matter how trivial. I want to cry but I won't, he wants to cry but he can't, Aya doesn't know how to cry, nobody taught him.

Tears don't surprise me and they leak silent and unhurried down my cheeks, stifling me, it has been too long. I move away to gaze at him, my eyes dull and making me cower when compared to his arctic performance. He can't share or feel my pain; I am wrung out of all feeling, beyond the last possible reach of anguish that the human mind may know. I want Aya...................... that's all.

I smile bitterly, "Why are you doing this?"

The impassive reply comes crawling along my skin as his lips move against it. "I don't know." A tongue licks away a lone tear.

Oh, but he knows, yet he will never tell me, even if he does, I refuse to stay and find out, I can't predict him, I've never been able to do so. Nothing had readied me for the untamed sex between us, before falling asleep he had made it frostily clear that it wouldn't happen again. It's so much more than physical pleasure and he knows it, but he won't admit it. I have no right to intrude on his decisions.

If he rejects me it would be the last straw. I turn around to face him, he is naked in front of me his face emotionless, we are willing to gamble what we consider precious, yet if he loses he will do so and leave with his pride intact, but I might shatter. Twin amethysts glitter through scarlet strands, he holds an ear tail between his lips, the movement seductive in it's own way. I cup his face in my hands, feeling ecstatic as he leans into the touch, he closes his eyes and his lips tremble slightly.

It takes a moment for me to see what he is really offering and how hard it is for him to squash his arrogance. He's made himself vulnerable in my sight. I kiss him and he sighs into my mouth, my tongue touches his hesitantly, I'm not very sure if he's promising a night or a lifetime, it's our silent way of testing, of communicating. I've become adept at reading his body language, just as he reads mine, he is never fooled by the mask I present to others. He's giving up himself but in return I have to reward him with my nonexistent soul, I want to have a soul, I want to be with Aya. The feel of him in my arms disperses all my doubts and he holds me firmly as if not willing to let go, we stay like that for a few timeless moments.

"I'm yours." The murmur is so soft that I have to strain to hear it.

"Why?"

"I don't know." Then again comes the infuriating response.

"You're mine?"

"Yes."

I grab his shoulders and shake him forcefully, "How much time is left before you return to you shell? For who long will you be mine Aya?"

I've never seen him smile, and it paralyzes me with its sheer magnificence. "Forever Yohji."

I kiss him, more fiercely this time, bruising his lips, but I don't care, at least not anymore. He lets me and tilts his head to give me more access; I moan, I need to be inside him, again. The warm colors will peek into the room later, but this time I would see the world in a whole new light, Aya would be right beside me sharing my darkness with his self assured brilliance. He steps back, violet eyes hazed with lust and cheeks tinted a light pink, he is panting, just like I am, the feeling is indescribable.

He leads me to the bed, his hands wrapped around my neck, holding on for dear life. Long athletic legs latch to my waist and I feel his erection, naked against my clothed one. His touch scorches my skin, trailing a line of red fire and I find it hard to believe that someone like him would actually want me, as if reading my mind; he is determined to prove me wrong and he drags my head down for a slow kiss.

I grind my arousal against his, we both gasp, his voice is thickened with longing, "Silly boy.......... don't leave me."

I feel like I'm about to erupt, my body hardens and it feels like I'm going to come in my pants; I want to feel that sheath of tightness around me as he screams my name in waves of pleasure.

"Aya..." my voice is shaky, and I hate myself for it.

"Shhh, don't talk, just love me."

It takes a moment for his words to sink into my mind.

Aya just asked me to love him.

And I do.

Hi again! I'm revising this story I hope you liked it. It took forever. Its sequel is posted and still in the works, it's called Dirty. Go read it, onegai ne?

Ciao!