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: Please note that chapter eleven, twelve and thirteen were merged into one chapter known as 'Colors, Celibacy, Mine'.
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Controlled lies and miso soup
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Aya
The blank numbness fled; he allowed his hands to drop to his side and turned. Youji was standing there, barefoot, the grey jumper dangling past his hips in folds that echoed the loose fit of his jeans. Clothing so completely out of character for Youji that he seemed a different man in them.
"Where did you get the clothes?" the question slipped out before he could stop it.
Youji stared at him, "The - I -" he shook his head in confusion, "Why do you want to know?"
I wish I knew. Aya mentally shook the thought away as he scooped up the katana.
"Why are we at the chalet?" Youji asked.
Aya turned; the older man was sitting on the floor, one leg stretched out across the floor.
Youji leaned back, "Aya -?"
Slender fingers sliding down sleek skin glittering with sweat in the morning light - how easy it would be to take advantage, to take before he could refuse, to claim what might be offered before it could be taken away. I can make him want me; to touch and rub and soothe the ache -
"Aya?"
Would he arch and moan like he did this morning? What would happen if I - Aya clenched his jaw.
"Damn." Youji swore softly, and sighed, "So you're angry at me again. Figures." He leaned back, tilting his head up at the ceiling, "You know - if you don't talk to me, I'm just going to stay here till you do right?" a slight flash of a smile touched his lips, "Hey I could practise my English! There's this new singer from America that the schoolgirls like - Brit-ta-ne-ay Se-pe-a-ra-rs." He said, drawling out the name.
Aya winced as Youji started singing what sounded like 'oops I' and the rest of the words too badly mangled by what had to be an intentionally bad accent to understand.
Youji arched an eyebrow at him then, shrugging, stretched out his legs and lay down on the ground, hands behind his head, still belting out the song lyrics.
It was too easy to superimpose the memory-vision of Youji, lying on the bed, arching upwards as he tried to free himself from his clothes. Too easy to slip into fantasy and imagine - other things.
Aya felt heat rush to his cheeks, he turned hastily away before Youji could see and guess - the man might be feckless but he was as good an observer as any of them.
His hands were clenched - he stared at them in shock. Control - I can't loose control. He drew the katana out of its sheath. The blade caught the light of the sun against one gleaming edge as the sheath landed softly on the ground. Youji paused in his singing, then continued.
Aya swallowed and began working through the drills, as he did every morning - as he had already done this morning.
Focus. Strength. Knowledge. Control.
By the time Youji had shifted to another tune, he could feel the calm return in the ache of his muscles, the sweat that clung to his skin.
Will you tell me?
"What did you learn from Doctor Tsukiata?" Aya asked; the older man's voice paused, came to a stop.
Will you trust me?
"Why do you want to know?" his voice was low, serious; Scared.
"It is a matter that affects Weiss."
The first form was focus - and focus was derived from strength, knowledge and control. Each step a brief introduction - a stance - of the following forms. The first stance was - Strength.
You want him to trust you - why?
"This has nothing to do with Weiss." Youji whispered, the words almost too low to hear, "It is my problem."
Aya did not answer; the second stance flowed smoothly into the third - Knowledge.
"Damnit! This is - it's my business all right?" Youji said angrily, "We don't ask why you're in Weiss - why the hell should this be of any interest to you?!"
In his mind's eye he could see the man: hair tinted gold in the light, green eyes clouded with thoughts. Youji would say what he would say - eventually. The man liked talking. It is a question of what he tells me. Where is the answer I need? Aya almost expected more incomprehensible English song lyrics, but the older man shifted restlessly and began again.
"The drug 'Fluffy' and his helper pumped into me - us - whatever -" Youji said softly, "It did more than knock me out. . . I've been having - weird reactions. Lately. Since I woke up. Kritiker's doctors finally figured it out." Youji continued, "The chemicals activated a portion of my brain that normal people don't use. It - I -" he sighed, "I don't understand it completely. Doctor Tsukiata calls it empathy. I - my body - reacts to the emotions of others. I can feel what you feel -"
His concentration flickered. Feel what I feel. . .
"It wasn't noticeable - when I first got out of the hospital. Just - hunches. I was always good at hunches. But - it got worse."
He knew, from the rustle of sound, that Youji had sat up; knew that the man was looking at him. What does your talent make you feel when you look at me?
Third stance became fourth in a single slide - knowledge was control.
"They don't know what will happen if I - loose control." Youji said distractedly, "I think that's why they want something to control me. In all the - things that happen, I never asked why they wanted to -" he trailed off, then started again - Aya cast a glance in his direction, whatever the older man was looking at it couldn't be found in the dark, dusty practise room of the chalet's attic.
"He -" Youji paused, then sighed, "I - my brain reacts strangely to you Aya." He said finally, "It - likes you." What? Aya turned, the katana flashed; Youji blanched, "Not like that!" he said hastily.
He's blushing.
"Explain."
"I can't stop - reacting - to everybody's emotions. It's like - this thing has a switch and I can't turn it off." Youji bit out, voice flat, "It's - everywhere. After a while - it's overwhelming." he released a breath, the sigh loud next to the brief rub of Aya's feet against the wooden floorboards, "When you touch me -" The last, a whisper - Aya wasn't sure if he was meant to have heard it, "It gets better - when you touch me -"
Skin slick with sweat, and he moans as I trail my hand downwards - Aya cut the thought off and moved swiftly through the first stance again, speeding up the motions till there was only a blur of light and speed - gasping in need, body arched in one single smooth line - and when he cries out my name I know he is mine -
Youji was speaking - unaware of the thoughts running through Aya's mind. Stop thinking about this - But he couldn't.
"- I don't know why - but when you touch me - when you're close - everything else slides into the background and all I can feel is you. When they figured out what was happening, Doctor Tsukiata created a serum that chemically enforces a secondary reaction based off my - talent's response to your proximity." Youji continued, and his tone turned flat, expressionless, "It -" he stopped again.
Breath hot as it feathers against my skin - pressed so close that there is no distinction between me and him. Entwined -
Aya stopped, gritting his teeth as he forced his mind away from its train of thought. He turned, scooping the sheath up in one fluid movement to sheath the katana.
"What does it do?"
Youji looked at him, startled, green eyes wide, "I -" he shook his head, "You know the problem with you Aya? You don't give off any signals. Half the time I can't tell if you're listening or just not telling me to shut up!" he grumbled.
"What does it do?"
Youji sighed, drawing his knees up against his chest in a graceful motion, "It increases my predisposition to obeying -" he said as he looked up, eyes glowing green in the preternatural dark of the attic as they met his; his voice caught, a soft gasp that was barely heard, a breath in the silence: " - you."
He wants you. A small voice noted quietly.
Control was derived from knowledge.
I know.
Youji
I'm sure I had more or less decided to follow through with my vague idea of flushing the contents of that blasted vial down the closest toilet. But when he looked at me, and asked me - I couldn't lie.
I'm good at lying - I had a talent for it even before I started living a double life. Good enough to lie to myself for years - you can't get any better than that. But - I couldn't today. This morning. When he looked at me - I couldn't. And that worries me because the only other person I was never able to lie to was Asuka. And Aya and Asuka have nothing in common to create the same reaction. Right?
Okay, so they have names that start with the same letter - but other than that there's nothing that's the same. I loved Asuka - I'm only in lust with Aya.
Obviously it's left over effects from Doctor Tsukiata injecting me with that serum yesterday. Stop thinking about this Kudou - you can't find the answer and you don't want to.
I wonder what I expected his reaction to be. Disgust? Amusement? Some scene out of the collection of porn I have stashed in the back of my closet? Stupid of me to expect him to react in a predictable way. Aya Fujimiya - the snow flower himself - react to normal human stimulus?
He turned on his heel and left the attic. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Aya thinks of me - and any interest I might have in him. I wonder if he noticed. You can never be completely sure with Aya. Most of the time, you think he's as oblivious to those subtle social hints as Ken. Then, he says or does something that proves your assumptions wrong. It's the silence - there's something about waiting for answers that never come that makes you - me - fill in the empty spaces for him.
So either he's not interested enough to notice - or he noticed and you can now infer one reaction Aya Fujimiya will be exacting out of your hide if you bring this up again. The first time he'd been two steps short of dislocating my shoulder, this time he had looked one step away from using his katana. In retrospect, bringing it up - even obliquely - while he had his sword in hand was a bad idea. But then, this has been a bad idea from the start. If I had even a modicum of control over my own body I would never have started lusting after him in the first place - and then maybe this. . . This - thing - wouldn't matter so much now. But you are, and it does - so what do you do about it Kudou?
I wish I knew.
Eventually I leave the attic. The darkness and quiet makes me - antsy. I really don't see what Aya sees in his retreat. How can he find any peace here? The silence just makes the voices all that much louder, the blood all that much brighter.
The chalet is silent; the place has always struck me as too large for four men to use exclusively as a weekend getaway. It needed a family - children to change Aya's sanctuary into a noisy playground for rainy days. Parents to make full use of the luxurious outdoor spa Ken insisted on. Some extended family to fight and make up in the empty rooms. I snort as I realise the twisted path of my thoughts. And where will any of us fit in that little picture of familial bliss you got there, Kudou? Probably waiting for Omi's signal to take the 'tomorrow of another dark beast'.
I pat my jeans down and wish I had remembered to buy a new packet of cigarettes yesterday - the day before yesterday? - before Manx had arrived with the latest mission from hell.
Outside, the sun is shining, and it is eleven - one hour gone and how many more to go before we leave? Ordinarily I would have taken the vacation for what it was - an escape from having to do shifts at the Koneko - but. . .
Aya never does something on the spur of the moment, there has to be a reason why I'm at the chalet rather than in an oh - maximum security hospital somewhere. Considering the way I was acting, I'm surprised he didn't do worse than knock me out. Well - only one way to find out.
He was in the kitchen cooking what looks like miso soup.
"Sit down."
I stare a little but I can't find Aya's abrupt methods of communication in any way startling any more. Call it over exposure for want of a better description. I sit. The chair is cold.
The sun filters through the small window set over the stove, it dilutes the intensity of his hair, making it less red - more pink. Somehow, that fact doesn't make him seem any less masculine. Strange that - you would think that with his eyes, form and hair, he would be mistaken for female occasionally. But there's something about him - a combination of how he moves and holds himself - that requires more than just light and shadow to change perception of gender for the unwary. Even if he is too beautiful to be real.
Aya is singularly beautiful. And I pride myself on being a connoisseur of that particular human trait so I didn't come to that conclusion from lusting after his body for six months. There is an elegance, a grace to his body that is simply classified as beauty, irregardless of time, country or culture.
Well except maybe the African tribe that finds long necks and large earlobes pretty.
The first time you see Aya - after you've convince yourself that he's actually real and that grabbing him and running for the nearest vertical surface is a bad idea - you wonder what sort of genes produced somebody like him. And if that sort of - perfection - is a family trait.
"Eat."
I stare as he puts a bowl in front of me, hot curls of steam drifting upwards.
And after you get to know him - hah! - you start wondering if he has any single relatives who have even a modicum of knowledge on social niceties.
The smell of hot soup curdles my stomach - that and the ever present burn of Aya's constant emotional state.
"Why are we here Aya?" I ask, pushing the bowl away.
"We are here because there is a mission." Aya doesn't look up as he speaks, just continues drinking his soup.
"A mission." I parrot, unsure of what else to say - which is not a situation I've found myself in very often but give me a break, there are mitigating factors involved here.
"Kritiker is testing us."
A cold trail runs down my spine. Testing me.
"What happens if I fail?" the tone is flippant - I am good at lying.
Aya doesn't answer; we sit there in silence, he quietly finishing his breakfast - me staring at him.
"Our target is Imina Tsukushi." Aya says finally.
"A woman."
"Yes."
Imina Tsukushi had been the research assistant to Ikudo Tamahino till one month ago when she killed him. Yes that Ikudo Tamahino - the scientist Kritiker had suspected of developing mind altering drugs for the purpose of creating perfect soldiers and the instigation for the last mission from hell.
Three weeks ago, Kritiker's last operative team - the ones sent to replace me and Aya after 'Fluffy' incapacitated us - had managed to solve the mystery. Tamahino's male impotency (or should that be potency) drug had the side effect of increasing capability of a human mind to accept and effect subliminal messages. While it did not create perfect soldiers immediately, as far as at least three separate terrorist organisations were concerned, it couldn't do anything but help.
Two weeks ago, Edo Incorporated had hired a young scientist named Mina Tsukino to continue Ikudo Tamahino's research in male impotency. The picture of Imina and Mina matched completely. They had been very sure of escape from prosecution. Edo Incorporated was the same subsidiary of Telco Org that had caused Kritiker to question Tamahino's research purpose. The CEO was one Kinama Jsi, brother to the Minister of Defence, Lucius Jsi.
Kritiker wanted Tsukushi - or Tsukino as she was now known - exposed for her crimes. But more than that, they wanted the notes for the creation of Tamahino's drug destroyed and any evidence of Kinama Jsi and his brother's collaboration in the creation of mind-altering drugs.
This was the sort of mission that would normally be given to other teams. Weiss is rarely brought in for what amounts to infiltration and information-gathering missions - especially since Aya's arrival made us one of the very few lethal teams Kritiker controls. But then, this isn't just an ordinary mission - this is a test. But what are they testing - my ability to deliver a successful mission? Or my ability to obey Aya's orders?
And does it really matter?
Aya left me in front of the large screen television in the living room with the mission tape and another thick folder of paper to read through. The cover we are to use is the same as last time - two lovers, entering Mina Tsukino's first research population based on a previous invitation to join the late Tamahino's research. Too bad we don't get the all expenses paid trip to some pacific island this time.
I wonder how Aya will react when he realises lovers generally touch each other with intimacy in mind - even in public. I wonder how far I can go before he uses his katana on me.
I lean back on the couch, the papers spread out in front of me, and close my eyes. Maybe I felt tired because the cold has always made me sluggish - or maybe I felt tired because I still hadn't caught up with my sleep debt. Whatever it was, I wondered how long before Aya would return and we'd leave for Edo Incorporated's headquarters in Kyoto.
He's standing in front of me with a suddenness that makes me wonder if I had nodded off by mistake. I stare at him, heart suddenly pounding in shock. We can all move quietly when required - it's only Aya who makes it a habit of doing so all the time.
Then I notice what he's holding in his hand; I wonder how I couldn't have noticed it before. The vial - glittering blue in the low light the television in stand-by gives off.
"I -"
What happens next? I wonder, almost expecting him to grab my arm - and a small voice at the back of my head asks if I would fight him.
Some part of me urges me to run - to leap over the back of the couch, to use my wire and run. Leave the chalet, leave Weiss. Just run - away from this slavery by any other name and find a place and time where I can be a normal human being who doesn't feel other people's emotions. Who doesn't have the blood of others staining his hands.
And another part of me knows that I can't. I am Weiss - as he is. As we all are. Where would I run to?
"This does not control the reaction." Aya says - it isn't a question, it is a fact.
I shake my head, "No - it just adds a -"
He turns and walks into the kitchen, ignoring anything else I have to say.
He was standing at the kitchen sink when I walked in. The syringe was unsealed, full reservoir casting blue shadows across the metal counters. He didn't look up as he emptied the syringe methodically into the sink before plunging it back into the vial to refill the reservoir.
I must have made some noise because he turned to look at me. There is no change in his expression, he turns back to his task.
"This does not control the reaction."
"Why?" my voice is small, tinny - it's strange the confidence and arrogance that has been part of the image I have shown the world for so many years is so easily stripped away whenever I faced him.
Aya pauses, I know he heard me - then continues his task, question unanswered. Does he not want me to know why he is doing this? Or is it that he doesn't know himself?
This is a good example of why I don't understand him: he communicates in some strange unfathomable code composed entirely of mercurial mood swings, one syllable replies and glares.
And the result is that only one thing is clear in this surreal little experience: both of us are lying to Kritiker.