Lust
By Tien Riu
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Disclaimer:
Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me. Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.
C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.
"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven. For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.
Extra Note: Rating [R] is for future chapters, but I'm not lowering it down to PG-13 simply because it seems awful to do something like that to readers. Also - it feels like cheating since Fanfiction.net has just put G - PG-13 as the default view rating.
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Not only uninterested but also oblivious - and disgust
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Youji
Well if I ever needed to know that Aya is not only uninterested but also oblivious to the most blatant leading questions. . .
Kritiker's safe houses are always a surprise. In the two years I have worked with and for them, I've seen five: the penthouse apartment in one of Tokyo's swankiest districts, the suburban home in the centre of nowhere, the farm house near Kyoto, the shack in the middle of down town east and of course, Weiss' own escape - the chalet in the mountains.
The mansion is startling however. Palatial, it positively reeks of old money, dated values and western style motives. Well, at least the bathrooms will be clean.
I hate places like this - nothing grounds into you where you come from and where you don't belong than having it rubbed into your face.
Aya is frowning again; Aya's moods have three phases, I have found. One is glaring, the second is frowning and the third is what I like to call 'stand by'. It's the blank, unreadable look you get just before he chooses to either glare at you or frown at something.
Notice me - notice me -
Childhood voices should stay in repressed memories where they belong.
"You going to say anything to me?" I ask, staring at him - he ignores me, no big surprise there.
And I refuse to let that batter my ego - it isn't as if Aya finds just me annoying - he finds everybody annoying.
It would be immature to keep this up, especially since I know it aggravates him.
Definitely immature - and utterly unprofessional. Even oblivious Ken would be able to tell that he wants to shut up and wait in silence for somebody in that mausoleum to get to the door. So I should definitely not keep on speaking - or do anything else. . .
Definitely. . .
I was never known for my maturity.
"You're going to have to sooner or later you know, A~ya." I say softly, drawling out his name in a voice that I usually keep reserved for picking up dates - or annoying Ken.
He keeps staring straight ahead, at the door; but his shoulders have stiffened.
Score!
Well - not yet, but hey, we'll be pushed into close quarters during this mission. If not score, then maybe some extensive rubbing.
I grin as I lean closer to him, draping one arm over his shoulders - I can feel his muscles tense.
"We could start small - maybe pet names. Couples always use pet names." That's a lie - but if he's not speaking then I can get away with murder surely, "How about I call you cherry pie?"
I'm leaning in so close that my breath feathers the long strands of hair falling over his ears.
Close enough to breath in the heat emanating from his body. . .
"Or how 'bout didums?" I murmur, switching to auto-pilot, "Maybe lovey-dove?"
He smells - familiar. My fingers twitch as I lean in closer to him, forgetting that this is Aya I have my arm draped over.
Forgetting that this started out as an immature impulse. Forgetting everything as I lean in closer to breath in the scent - that elusively drifts away, forcing me to move in closer. Okay maybe not force - maybe. . . Tentalises. . .
His hair feels like silk against my nose.
"A~ya. . ." my voice - it sounds hoarse, if I take less than a shift forward, I'll be pressed against him.
He's warm - and the growing night is cold.
And Jay is a memory - fading before the reality of Aya Fujimiya.
My hand slides, barely brushing against his hair, trailing downwards.
It feels like silk - pure, spun silk.
He is wearing a black jumper - it hangs around his hips, loose and comfortable but it clings to his chest, to his torso. And lower.
My fingers twitch - beneath, I know, is flesh. His shirt - silk, my imagination whispers - warmed to his body, clinging to it. So easy, to slip my hand underneath the edge of the jumper.
So easy - to slide my arm around him, to pull him towards me.
So easy to unbutton one, then the second, then the third and onwards up.
So easy to tilt my head down, to press my lips against the dark red of his hair, to find that part of him that -
"What are you doing?"
A sharp shock of pain drags me back from fevered imaginings. He has my hand in a grip tight enough to hurt - tight enough to warn me that struggling to get free will involve bruises. And his eyes - his eyes are glowing.
Anger. And - something else.
"Wh-what?"
"Don't. Touch. Me." Aya hisses, dropping my hand and hitting the doorbell again.
This time, I can hear something ringing far inside. And footsteps.
The door swings open, revealing a young man in a suit.
"Fujimiya and Kudou?"
Aya stalks in with a curt nod, leaving me still standing there, staring at him.
My hand throbs silently. As do other parts of my anatomy.
What did you just do Kudou?
"Sir?" the young man asked, staring at me, "Youji Kudou?" he asks, then repeats when I can only stare blankly at him.
I hesitate, then nod and pick up my bag and follow the young man into the mansion.
What did you do?
I know what I saw in his eyes.
Anger. Anger and something else.
Anger.
Anger. And disgust. . .