For all you lovely ladies who keep posting such great and long reviews to my stories - you know who you are, and I hope that 'Reply' feature works properly because I've used it quite a lot recently!
Here is a shortie, starring Yohji and Aya. A brief exchange, few words, actions speaking for themselves. Quite clear references to certain activities, casting into sharp relief much of what goes on between those two. Men loving men.This fanboy loves them too...
Disclaimer: This story is not for profit, all rights with their current owners.
Warnings: The boys are foulmouthed. Clear references to sex.
Rating: M for male/male affection and references to sex. Don't look for graphic instructions though - you will be disappointed.
Pairs (I would not call them couples):Aya/Yohji (destiny interrupted – still! Man, Aya...)
Let me know what you think, folks.
Cheers.
xxx
Yohji:
Shift with Aya, thanks to Omi's scheming ways. Not that I mind – I like watching Aya. He has such a thin neck, like a bird, and dainty feet for someone of his height. Good for dancing around with this damn sword of his. Aya possesses a brittle kind of beauty, a deadly delicacy, like the cutting edge of the katana he uses.
Aya:
If I keep busy misting the plants, he is likely to leave me alone. I do NOT want to know why. He is an oaf, big and lanky, but his shoulders are broad and his arms muscular, his hands hard, his feet big. To stand firmly planted while dragging the snare of his wire taut and holding it until whatever he's caught expires in a gargle of blood.
Yohji:
He is unfunny. The muscles responsible for smiling are probably paralyzed in his pretty face. He is pretty. I would like to suck my lips onto the spot where that earring of his tickles his white neck. I'd like to bite his skin hard enough to leave a mark. I could soothe it with my tongue. It would tickle, too. Would he laugh? Somehow, I doubt it.
Aya:
What is he chuckling about now? He cannot be serious, not once, if his life depended on it. That would be fine by me, but it is our lives too, and that is a different matter. I hate that. He should be less of a fuckdoll. To imagine him on his fours, getting done by some idiot shoving his dick up that golden ass...
Yohji:
That was quick – he's fuming about something before I get to finish my first smoke. The kid needs to get laid, urgently, or he'll forget he's alive. I'll volunteer, right up his neat little ass, and I'd kiss him blue to stop those rants he likes to breathe at everyone just about everything. I'd fuck him into his futon, and then he'd be quiet for once.
Aya:
He was ogling me oddly today. Again.
Yohji:
He has this greedy shine in his eyes. Damn that mission tonight...
xxx
Aya:
He freaks me out. He offered help when I was tearing off the mission gear. I slung the stuff on top of the workbench and ran upstairs to my room to bar the door. I am NOT afraid, but I hate him invading my thoughts like that. It always ends the same.
Yohji:
Now he's gone all skittish, and I only meant to help. Wonder whether he went even paler underneath all that leather and teflon, and down there... hell, I'd love to suck him off and have him squirm, wonder whether he'd yell when he comes. He always tries so hard not to make a sound. Perhaps he'd croak at least.
Aya:
He is having dirty thoughts, I can tell, he's so very obvious, no subtlety at all, and he's been beating off in the shower loudly enough to bring the house down, god, he does sound like an animal, to imagine him touching himself like that... I hate my body.
Yohji:
He was leaning outside the bathroom door, and for all I could tell, he was a) close to fainting, with his eyes heavylidded and his breath coming in fast little puffs, and b) rock-hard, his dick begging for relief, a little wet patch at the front of his pants. Gods...
Aya:
How does he do it? I tried – staring down at myself, wrapping my fingers around this piece of flesh, and bang, I'm thinking of him in graphic detail, I hate that, and of his lips round me down there, smacking and sucking, and his fingers touching me inside, and – ahhh, damn him...
Yohji:
Hell hath me if he hasn't just come in the shower. He slunk back to his room fairly boneless and with such a dejected expression on his face... he's loathing himself for having yielded, what a big, silly kid, someone's gotta tell him it's okay. No one else dares. Fine, here we go then...
Aya:
Did not take him long. Of course not. So he's here, standing in the door, eyes greedy and all the same insecure. I should have locked, why didn't I? I must have forgotten. Aa, that's it. He offers to massage my back – I pulled a muscle today, it fairly hurts, his hands are good at that, Omi told me. How would he know? How odd. A massage would be good though...
Yohji:
He feels thin, bony, sharp edged like taut wire in my hands as he kneels on his futon, his back turned to me. He lets me slide them up his flanks and sags a bit, his head lolling forward, his hands between his thighs, loosely covering his middle. Why would he do that? Massage, Aya, just that, don't freak out sweetie, not now...
Aya:
"You wanna fuck?"
Yohji:
He did NOT say that just now.
Aya:
He is also dumb, no wonder 'cos he is blond, albeit bleached. I asked in very clear terms whether he wanted intercourse with me and he just sits there like frozen, his fingers clawing into my waist, his long legs stretched out to either side of me on the futon. Fine, so he won't do it. I should not have asked. I hate him.
Yohji:
He gives me the eye. Aya's good at that. If I read him right, he's just given me permission to... no-no-no-no, this is Aya, for fuck's sake, and he's untying his drawstring trousers and shoves them down his legs, and he's hard, oh my god, that's enough, don't come now, not now, for Chrissake, ohhhh... dammit.
Aya:
And now what has he done, coming all over my clean sheets and my lower back. That was NOT the idea. For someone with his experience and practice, he's clumsy. I might have hurt him somehow. So maybe it's better we don't do this again. Just once more, and that's it.
Yohji:
He looks frustrated as he pushes me over and holds me down, a small, hard hand splayed on my chest. He looks down between us, gods, he's naked, pretty, beautiful Aya naked pushing apart my thighs, what's his plan, oh no, I top, shut up Kudoh, he's growling, he bites when he's like that...
Aya:
Yoh... ji...
Yohji:
Beau...ti...ful...
Aya:
Yohji...
Yohji:
Love...
Aya:
Asshole.
Yohji:
Pulls out and leaves, fairly running for the bathroom. Hasn't come. Refused to come inside me. Feel like crying. Crying. Crying.
Aya:
Crying. Mustn't love. Hate him. Hate him. Hate... why is he here now? Why... holding me, damn him, squeezing me hard... still hate him...
Yohji:
"Aa, Ayan. Is alright. Just... come outta here, huh?" And I'll tuck him in, and he'll let me, and that's it. And Schuldig's gonna laugh his head off... again. Aya wipes his face and blows his nose. Doesn't look at me, he never does after a scene like that. I get him to go to bed and for all the world, he looks much smaller when he's wrapped into his comforter, not imposing at all. Like a little kid.
Aya:
What is he asking? Whether I want a good-night-smooch? His mind is already set on going out and getting wasted, and if I were Omi, I'd bet Yohji's going to bump into Schuldig the bastard, all by accident of course... one day, I will kill him for this. For spending entire nights doing I don't want to know what with Schuldig.
Yohji:
So he wants a kiss. I give it to him, perhaps a bit more forceful than I should have, because he glowers at me... and then he just turns onto his side, closes his eyes, and I know I am dismissed. I go to my room to get dressed, and when I lift the blind to glance at the rain-sodden street, I can see a flash of copper hair...Schuldig likes his entertainment. So I'll humour him.
It keeps him clear of Aya, who knows nothing of our little trade-off.
And that's the way it should stay... even if he hates me for it.
xxx
The End