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: Firstly, thank you once more for the reviews. Much appreciated.
Secondly: still like to know (especially now) what you think of Youji's behaviour.
Thirdly: yes, this story is categorised in the supernatural section for a reason other than my arbitary decision. ^_^
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A strange game where pain is better than pleasure
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Youji
At first – I didn't notice.
It was just – a strange game my mind seemed to be playing by itself. Maybe it was a little bit more vivid than my imaginings usually were but – nothing extraordinary.
And it made a little sense - after all, I've always been good at understanding what motivates people. Hey, I was a detective. Once.
So my guessing had improved. And it unnerved Ken - a definite plus. Omi, little kid that he is, didn't seem to notice anything different. I guess, even though he's not exactly a good example of a normal teenager, when you're than young, adults are usually one step ahead.
Well okay, so usually Omi is one step ahead of me.
But at first – it just seemed as if my two-week nap put me on top of the game for once.
Aya hadn't come with Omi and Ken to pick me up – and call me sensitive, but I figured that was a good sign that he was majorly pissed with me. Make that still pissed with me.
Make that still pissed with me – again.
And for the most part, the reasons for his anger with me stems from the fact that I am Youji and he is Aya, and neither shall the twain meet - or even briefly grind in senseless fun - without somebody getting impaled on a length of steel. And not the fun sort of steel either.
But during dinner that night I could practically feel disdain emanating from him – in waves. Hot waves. With sharp edges. Tainted with the after taste of strawberry.
It bothered me.
Hell, it was my fault after all. Aya puts off 'don't touch me' signals that a blind man could read. In the six months that I've known him, he has shown blatant distaste for my taste in clothes, women and lifestyle. And being the brilliant socialite I am, I start flirting with him. He must have thought - I don't know what he thought. Maybe that I was crazy - or that I was trying to annoy him on purpose. I did start with annoying him in mind - but it didn't end that way.
You didn't start it that way either - face it you grabbed the first excuse you could find to get your hands on him.
I only flirt with women in the Koneko – not that I'm ashamed of being bisexual. It's just – well, the world is filled with people who think it's fine, so long as they don't need to see it face to face. And as I've said before, when your life depends on your team-mates, there are more important things to think about then how many appointments your libido makes with your right hand. Hell - I've known Ken for a year and a half and he doesn't suspect - admittedly, it would take Ken a bowling pin, three tubs of water and a neon sign for him to get the more subtle sets of social interaction some days. Omi probably knows – he was given full access to the notes Kritiker's analysts made, and I'm sure they red-tagged my psychological profile for his reading pleasure. The chibi has never said anything – of course, I'm not even sure he's hit that stage of his mental growth chart yet. Some kids are late bloomers despite their physical growth – and lets face it, between school, the Koneko and killing dark beasts, he hasn't really gotten much chance to socialise with girls.
The ones that swamp us in the Koneko don't count.
I tried - I really did. He opened the door - and I realised then that apologising wearing nothing but cotton boxers were probably a bad idea. I tried - stumbling over the words - and utterly ruining my reputation as the man who is never at a loss for words I might add - but -
The look in his eyes -
Cold - and so completely. . .
It was as if when he looked at me, he saw something that was not only worthless, but also completely unworthy of his attention. Not even to scrape off his boots.
"I -" the words choked me, and I stared at him helplessly, "I'm sorry about - at the mansion. I -"
He stood in the doorway, loose black pants hanging off his hips, moonlight bathing him in an ethereal white. Blood hair, cream skin - and you better hope he thought you were trying to annoy him. Because if he suspects that you were groping him, death would be an escape. Except - except - except -
He's too perfect to be real. But he is - and you know that he will never be yours. That the most you can do is stand there, waiting for him to throw you away because you mean nothing to him. And though it hurts, and it'll hurt, you stay there - because he's so beautiful that you can't help it. Even if it kills you.
Aya stared at me - and then he closed the door in my face.
And I find myself walking slowly back to my room - depressed and cold.
I remember lying on my bed and staring at the wall I shared with his room. And I knew what he felt for me - I could feel his scorn as if it was a glass-edged rasp rubbing against my skin.
That was the first time it happened.
By the end of the next day - it had gotten. . . Worse.
I think I'm going crazy.
I caught myself getting aroused yesterday - in the middle of the Koneko. Which in itself is not completely unusual. Except I didn't know why. There was no reason - not even the usual excuse of a beautiful woman - nothing but the sudden feeling. . .
Warmth, a slow growth. A lethargy of sensation - As if I had just woken up beside a precious, beloved other early on a Sunday morning - and knowing that you have all day to explore each other's body.
Except I've never woken up to somebody on a Sunday morning and felt that way. The feeling wasn't mine.
And all I knew is that I had no control. No way to stop - imagining.
Today - oh god.
I'm not a pervert - no matter what Aya thinks of me. I don't date anybody still in high school - or younger than eighteen, whichever is more convenient.
But -
Every day it gets worse.
The flower store - overwhelms me. Cold and hot - almost-sensations - running through me - as if their school-girl hopes and dreams are playing strip poker with my central nervous system.
Every day it gets worse and - I can't stop it.
I need to get drunk. So I can stop noticing that Omi has strange dreams or that Ken might have no sex life while he's awake, but his dreams are steamy enough to make me uncomfortable. So I can pretend that I'm not turning into some perverted voyeur.
How can it be unwilling when it can make me - react?
"Blood will tell Youji - blood will tell. That's why you like it when I do this - don't you -"
I shudder - voices from the past should stay in the past - or at least have the courtesy to appear in some markedly insane manner so at least I had an excuse to run into walls till I lose consciousness.
Getting drunk helps a little - it makes it easier to forget. For a little while. Or until the hangover passes.
I can hear the thrum of their conversation beyond the backroom door. A mild rumble - audible; on the edge of my perception. And increasingly - the sensation of their feelings, rubbing against me.
Aya said take the rest of the day off - but how do I get past them? And would it matter? What sanctuary is a room that cannot close these - mad imaginings away?
I'm a twenty year old assassin damn it - I'm trained to handle high stress situations. Right?
I can handle this. I can handle this -
I can cope with whatever this is. Right - I can. Yeah - definitely. Can cope with this.
And the voice that says 'liar' - I'm the only one who hears it anyway so who's going to listen to it?
I can handle this - if I don't need to actually talk. . .
If I don't need to talk or move -
Sometimes - sometimes - it's almost like foreplay. It feels good - and sometimes, it's uncomfortable. But it doesn't matter which or why - because I have no choice. I can't stop it - can't turn it off. It feels too real to be imaginary - but if it is real then I'm going insane -
I can handle this. I can - I can - I can -
I can't - I don't think I can. It's getting worse every day.
At first, it was like a burst of insight. Then, it became continuous - and then. . . And then -
I knew what she wanted from me - I knew what she felt -
Sex and lust and hope - and it felt so good -
I don't want to be like this -!
I don't - I don't - she's seventeen! They're all children.
All of them - children. And - god - this thing. . . Real or imagined - I'm reacting and -
I don't want to be like this. . .
What sanctuary can my room give me - is it better to know who I'm getting aroused over then lying in my room gasping my way to an orgasm? Is that supposed to make a difference?
Oh god. . .
What sanctuary can a room give me?
What sanctuary when being close to Aya stops me from feeling them?
His contempt and disdain and anger - when he touched me it was all I could feel.
Phantom pain running over my skin, a high pitched squeal on the edge of hearing, razor-tipped fur piercing me - and all tainted with that hint of strawberries that is him.
It hurt - but it was all I could feel.
Pain is better than pleasure right? It proves that I don't want this - that I'm not bad.
Right?
Right?
The wall is hard; the noise outside loud enough to hide the sound of my panting.