The Weiss Kreuz Picture Show
A Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila
Part Five: A Figment of Our Imaginations
After that what could Manx do but sit at her desk with her hands in front of her and look rather prim, like a virgin headmistress in a Catholic girls' school confronted with her errant charges? There was no point in trying to beat these crazy perverts at their own game. She would make up for it by being the lone, dissenting voice of reason. It did seem a waste when one considered her admittedly abundant cleavage and long, shapely legs, the sight of which would have made Betty Grable weep for envy, but that was the way things were and Manx wasn't about to complain, seeing what everyone else was getting forced into.
At least this way she could maintain her not inconsiderable air of detached dignity, watching the antics of her charges from one remove. At least this way she kept her clothes on, which was considerably more than Aya, Omi or Ken had managed. Yes, Manx could tell that the words mercies, small and thankful were entering the equation with unseemly haste. One thing she was unequivocally glad about – at least this way she didn't have to go near the hypersexual, clearly crazed Youji any time soon. That man was bad enough as it was without the 'mad scientist' remit.
"If the poet is right and all life is merely a dream," Manx began with ominous gravity, "then Ken and Omi have no reason to fear. However, the sudden departure of their maniacal 'host' and his creation—" she had to admit that the creation was a confection! "—into the convenient honeymoon suite he had ready for just such an occasion, left them both feeling apprehensive, uneasy and, (at least in Ken's case) utterly perplexed. A feeling which grew stronger as the other guests took their leave, and they were shown to their separate rooms."
Would it be infra dig of her to admit she was actually becoming rather fond of delivering these pompous, portentous little speechlets? Maybe so, but Manx didn't care. This was actually kind of fun. All this and a wing chair too…
Omi couldn't get comfortable. He wasn't sure what he made of this bedroom – would 'boudoir' have been more accurate? – with all its chintzy furnishings, hanging drapes, filigree bedside lamps and the like. It looked like an illustration from some 'True Romance' comic or, failing that, an upmarket, old-fashioned shoujo manga. Omi would have felt out of place even if he hadn't been wearing his underwear, a dust coat and nothing else. And he'd taken the dust coat off.
Lying back on the bed, he managed to locate the off switch for the filigree bedside lamp. Staring at the ceiling he began, with nothing else to occupy his mind, to fret.
Worry Number One was simple and it ran Where is Ken? It seemed odd, given how… licentious everyone in this house was, that they had been separated. He wouldn't have minded sharing a bedroom, or even a bed. In his current frame of mind Omi would positively have welcomed it. He felt lost and insecure and he would have liked to talk to Ken about it, a problem shared being a problem halved and all that. Worry Number Two was, as Ken had said earlier, the million-dollar question and it ran What in the Name of All That's Holy is Going On Here? This was no way to get to sleep. He tried to think of something pleasant. Unfortunately, 'something pleasant' turned into Aya in black underwear. Er, what? Omi! Behave.
He folded the pillow double under his head and tried to settle down. He was still owl-wide awake, though, not to mention rather cold and very uncomfortable (was there something up with this mattress?) when someone knocked on the door. Sitting up, Omi grabbed for the filigree lamp on the bedside. If all else failed he could use it as a weapon. He would far rather have had his darts but needs must…
"Hello?" He called anxiously. "It's only me." The figure outside called.
Me. Omi frowned. Who is me? The obvious answer to that would be Ken, but that didn't seem likely. He knew Ken and 'night visiting' was one of the things it wouldn't occur to him to do. Well, it might occur to him but Omi doubted he would follow it through. Besides Ken would have knocked on the door then opened it, ready-or-not-here-I-come, without waiting for a reply.
"That doesn't help much." He replied, getting a firmer grip on the lamp.
He was glad he had when Mister Outside, getting tired of waiting, opened the door and walked inside. Obviously not Ken. Omi could tell that much by the silhouette alone. This guy was too tall and broad-shouldered and the like to match. Ken was, as Omi had noted before, Ken. Which meant he was pretty average. Average height, average weight, average coloring, not average build: he erred on the slender side. This guy was willowy and nobody in their right mind would have described Ken as willowy.
"I didn't think you'd go for it." Mister Inside-Now said genially, dropping down onto the edge of the bed. He very nearly got a standard lamp in the face for his trouble but luckily for him he noticed Omi's swing and grabbed his wrist to block it. "There's no need for that, I'm not going to hurt you."
"It's not that I'm worried about!" Omi snapped. "What are you doing in here?"
"Well, this is my house." The man said reasonably.
Omi sighed wearily, dropping the lamp to the bed. "Oh, it's you. What's the matter, isn't Aya-kun working properly?"
Youji gave him a licentious smile. "Aya? Oh, he's working just fine. I wanted to see how you worked."
Omi wished he hadn't let go of the lamp as Youji grabbed him, pulling him close and Ohmygod Youji was kissing him and he was doing it well and it had effectively short-circuited Omi's brain. Every instinct that he had was yelling at him to push Youji off, beat him senseless with the lamp then go and find Ken and get out of here, barely dressed or no. For some reason he didn't. The first thing he did was wrap his arms around Youji's neck and let the man deepen the kiss, only snapping out of it and struggling free after entirely way too long an interval had passed.
"What the hell are you doing?" Omi demanded breathlessly, shoving at Youji's chest and getting him to back off all of an inch or so. Well, he thought, it's a start. Now where's that damn lamp? Go away Youji you are making me think things that I should only be thinking of round Ken!
"I think you know." Youji said smoothly, and tried to kiss him again. Omi evaded well. The only problem was this gave Youji easy access to his neck. He realized what a mistake this had been when Youji nibbled gently on his earlobe and then began giving him the hickey of all time. It would perhaps have been better to let the guy kiss him again.
"S… stop it!" Omi spluttered, wrenching his head back, horribly aware he was blushing, and trying to ignore the positively indecent sensations Youji's actions was provoking. No this wasn't right. He didn't enjoy enjoying this! Oh dammit now the guy had his hand down his top. Jesus Christ what was wrong with the man?! "I said cut that out!"
"What's the matter?" Youji drew back, a little stung. "Aren't you enjoying it? I think you are. In fact, I think you're finding it quite pleasurable."
Which was how Omi made his First Big Mistake of the night. Youji, for all his licentiousness, was a gentleman underneath it all. If Omi had told him, no I'm not even remotely enjoying it, go away, I never want to see you again you horrible creepy seducer of innocents, Youji would actually have apologized and gone to find Aya for Round Two. Or after Ken, who had been clearly interested even if the guy was too goddam naïve to know that he was.
Unfortunately, Omi was a truthful soul and what he actually said was, "Well… um, so what if I am? That's really not the point! I mean so what if I like it I shouldn't be doing it." Which made it a matter of an inconvenient conscience, not one of sexual disgust, and that Youji felt perfectly justified in trying to work round.
Youji blinked. "What, you mean Ken? Ken won't know if we don't tell him."
Youji was taking advantage of Omi's distraction to lie him back on the bed, pushing the tiresome bedside lamp aside with one foot. The last thing he wanted was Omi changing his mind halfway through and giving him a concussion. When Omi still didn't reply, he recommenced working on that record-breaking hickey. At which Omi was horribly aware that what remained of his resistance to the idea was packing up and preparing to take a brief vacation. Yes, it seemed that Omi's conscience had decided to take a quick trip to Bali, leaving Omi himself up the creek. What good were moral scruples in the face of the unbridled force of lust that was Youji? It was easy to resist temptation in your mind, but not so easy when temptation was lying on top of you and kissing your neck.
This wasn't good. Omi made one last valiant attempt to shore up his failing defenses.
"No, don't." he murmured, resting his hands on Youji's chest. "Stop it. I mean… help." It didn't sound like Omi meant much of anything. Certainly he didn't sound alarmed. Youji was moving steadily downwards, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. "I… oh. That is… Ken-kun…" Oh my God, Omi thought, his eyes flying open, what on Earth am I doing?! Either Ken was going to have to kill him, or he was going to have to kill himself! "Ken-kun!"
Oops, Youji thought, his head snapping up, there's that inconvenient conscience again. "Ssh!" He placed one finger to Omi's lips; the boy stared up at him in wide-eyed fright. "Ken's probably asleep by now. Do you want him to see you like this?"
"Like how?" Omi cried, struggling to sit up. "You started this, it's your fault!" He covered his face with his hands, probably to hide the fact that he was blushing furiously.
Youji smiled reasonably. "Well, in that case he won't blame you then, will he?" He said, pushing Omi's hair from his eyes and giving him a surprisingly gentle kiss. "And Ken doesn't have to know. I swear I won't tell him."
Omi peeped out at him from behind his fingers. "Promise?" He said, in a small voice.
Which was his Second Big Mistake of the night.
In the laboratory Schuldich, ostensibly cleaning the place up, was leaning on his mop handle as he flipped through the channels on a closed-circuit TV monitor. He raised one eyebrow when he located his master and realized exactly what the man was doing. So he's still getting plenty, Schuldich thought wryly, then turned to Crawford.
"He's busy." Crawford nodded as if he had expected no less. "I knew he would be, Schuldich." Does that mean it's time, Crawford?" Schuldich asked expectantly. "Yes, it's time." The American said dourly. Turning, he surveyed the room in quiet disdain.
The guests had departed; the room was completely deserted. Even Farfarello had been tidied away, leaving nothing but the open cell door, inside of which lingered a rather ominous stain. Schuldich's desultory mopping had got up the worst of the mess, leaving the room, if not exactly spotless, then at least neat enough. That task done, Crawford and Schuldich had turned their attention to the bridal suite.
Aya was lying face-down on the bed, that award-winning ass in its equally Gold Standard black briefs pointing heavenward. Youji, clearly not trusting him alone, had chained him to the bed by his ankles. Glad to be left alone, the dour young man was getting a quick nap in before Youji reappeared. He wanted to have all his energies intact so that he could let the playboy know exactly what he thought of him. He was preparing the world's most sizzling Death Glare for its grand debut. With any luck it would strike Youji dead and then he could go and get some more clothes on. Hours old though Aya was, he knew that some other people out there got to wear things called 'pants' over their briefs and he wanted a pair for his own.
Crawford and Schuldich were utterly unperturbed by the delicious sight laid out on the dark sheets for Youji's delectation. The two men had a Plan, and by Crawford's reckoning it was about time to put that Plan into action. Tonight was The Night. The Master – Master? Not in Crawford's book, or Schuldich's for that matter! – would never be more distracted than this. He would be far too busy having sex with everything that moved to notice the devious plotting going on under his very nose.
Aya, the pair had decided, was going to help them.
Whilst Schuldich watched, smiling even more broadly than before, Crawford quietly drew a gun and slipped over to the sleeping Aya, gazing down at him with hard dislike. This redhead was far too glareful for him. Crawford was the undisputed Master of the Sinister Scowl and he was not having that position usurped by any damn interloper!
He gave Schuldich a brief glance. Schuldich nodded. He knew exactly what Crawford wanted. Telepathy was so handy sometimes. He joined Crawford by the foot of the bed and released the chains around Aya's ankles, stepping quickly away as Aya stared, giving the two servants a junior Death Glare all of their very own, one which Crawford proved more than equal to. Stepping up to the side of the bed, he cocked his pistol and aimed it at Aya's head.
Aya started, but his expression didn't even waver as he jumped to his feet and backed away from Crawford, quickly locating his beloved katana and, darting quickly into the laboratory, grabbing it in both hands. Crawford turned to face him, leveling the gun at him. Aya backed off, katana raised. Schuldich watched the standoff with eager eyes, his grin turning ferocious.
Crawford broke the impasse by firing once twice three times at Aya. All warning shots, but close enough to spur the young man into action. As Crawford advanced Aya backed away, looking wildly around for a way out – he saw the lift shaft and, brandishing his sword threateningly as if to deter Crawford from following, leapt athletically down it and out of the laboratory. It would have been a great escape if Crawford had really had any intention of killing him.
"Nice one." Schuldich said in the silence that followed.
Crawford nodded at the redhead, tucked his pistol back in the shoulder holster concealed beneath his slightly worn black suit, and then crossed over to him, grabbing Schuldich's face in both hands and giving him a deep, passionate kiss. He hadn't spent this long around Youji without picking some things up.
Seal it with a kiss.
Ken had fallen asleep. He was ridiculously tired and if he had to see one more utterly fucked-up thing he thought his brain would give up the ghost. Yes, sleep had seemed a very good idea. He hadn't given much thought as to his surroundings except to be mildly annoyed that, though he was stuck in a house full of sex fiends, he seemed to be expected to go to bed alone. He wondered where Omi was and if he was all right. Well he'd bloody better be all right or there would be trouble. Still, they'd be out of here tomorrow. Ken had promised himself that much. They would be out of here tomorrow even if he had to kill someone to manage it. Not something that would bother an assassin much, that.
Still, Ken didn't want to think about any more weird things between now and next Christmas, so within moments of being shown into this room he was gratefully out for the count.
All things being equal, then, he was very annoyed to be woken up by a knock at the door. With a stifled curse, he got to his feet, stretched expressively and, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, headed to the door. It occurred to him when he was halfway there that he should have put the dust coat back on, or looked for a robe or something, because now he was… yeah, he was less dressed than that Aya guy. Aya had shoes on. Oh well, what the hell, too late for that now. He opened the door.
"What?" He asked irritably, only to be even more irritated when a figure brushed past him and waltzed right into the room, standing in the center of the room and looking at him, as far as Ken could tell given the darkness, meaningfully. "Who's that?"
"It's me, Ken." The figure said triumphantly.
Who was me? Ken blinked. Logically he would have expected 'me' to be Omi, but there was a problem with that. Firstly, would Omi show up at his bedroom door and in a stranger's house at that? Nope. Not a bit of it. Not Omi's style. He certainly wouldn't walk on in like he owned the place. And Omi wouldn't just call him 'Ken'. Omi had never called him just plain 'Ken' in his life.
"No, I'm Ken." Ken said shortly. "You are?"
Well, they obviously weren't Omi that was for sure. Ken could tell that much just from their outline. Omi was, well, elfin. He was small, blonde and cute. Smaller than Ken was and this guy was absolutely, definitely not smaller than Ken. Like hell would he have to look up to Omi. Like hell Omi had ever been tall and willowy and obviously muscular. Ken frowned. He had a horrible suspicion and he wanted it, and this guy in his bedroom, to go away before he did something he'd regret. What he didn't know yet.
"Do you think I'm pathologically thick or something?" Ken demanded, taking a pace toward the stranger.
Youji, for it was obviously he, laughed softly. "Don't make me answer that question."
Ken bridled. "Oh will you fuck off, Youji? Like hell I'm going to think you're Omi when you're what, half a foot taller than he is?" And that was without taking the… um, physique into account, which Ken was trying desperately not to do and without much signal success. "You're taller than I am for fuck's sake and don't you dare say that's not hard! This is all bloody stupid I can't believe I'm seeing this and will you get out of my bedroom—!"
Two paces more and he was next to Youji. Giving him a shove, Ken tried to push him out of the door only to find out the flaw in that plan the hard way when Youji grabbed him by the shoulders and, pushing him against the wall and pinning his wrists above his head with one hand, kissed him so thoroughly that, just for a moment, Ken forgot all about trying to get Youji to go away. Or, indeed, about anything at all save making sure Youji didn't stop kissing him. Just for a moment, he relaxed into it and responded, until the rational core of his brain finally managed to scream some sense into the rest of it.
Somehow, he managed to pull away and he stared up at Youji in something approaching panic. "What the fuck are you playing at?"
Youji just smiled seductively, his green eyes languorous. "Oh, I'm not playing, Kenken."
"What did you just call me?" Ken asked, blushing and, again, momentarily forgetting the situation, but he snapped out of it before Youji could reply. "Oh who fucking cares, will you get off?!" Ken tried to pull his hands free, but Youji was holding them too tightly. But did he really mind?
"Get off?" Youji murmured breathily into his ear. "Maybe later. There's something I'd like to do first."
Ken was about to ask what, only to be answered when Youji gave him another deep, mind-fucking kiss and ran one finger down his chest. Ken shivered. Did he mind this that much…? Hell yeah! Of course he fucking minded! This was absolutely insane, he didn't know this guy, what was going on and why in the flaming hell was he enjoying it? Wasn't Omi—
With a single convulsive wrench, Ken managed to pull one of his hands free and he gave Youji another firm push, determined that this time he really would get the guy off and out of the room. He succeeded in making Youji back off an inch or so, but the blonde was now gazing at him with such carnal speculation that it made him go red. Ken's train of thought had been abruptly derailed. There had been something he'd wanted to say to Youji, hadn't there? Ken wondered what it had been.
"God, what are… I mean… go away! Please!"
Yeah, that had been it.
Which, Youji guessed and quite rightly at that, was Ken's attempt at a token protest. So, instead of going away, he half-carried, half-dragged the boy over to the oh-so-convenient bed and wasted no time in pinning him to the mattress, again with his hands caught above his head. He already knew enough about Ken to work out that, if left to himself, the boy might just try to break his jaw in one of those ill-timed attempts to change his mind. Ken yelped in affronted shock and tried to wriggle free but Youji wouldn't give him an inch. He knew he needed to tell Youji to bugger off but was too worried the request might be misinterpreted. Godfuckingdammit now what was he going to do?!
No, it really wasn't Ken's night for being listened to.
"What's the problem?" Youji murmured breathily in his ear. "Don't you like it?"
Ken whimpered softly. Fucking hell this man was licking his ear and he was enjoying it. No. What, what, what? "I can't…" He said desperately, trying to convince himself as much as he was Youji, well aware that as arguments went 'I can't' lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. He was fighting a rearguard action against the forces of hopeless lust and opportunism and he didn't like it one bit.
"Why not?" Youji whispered, kissing his neck. Ken tried very hard not to think about that, or about what Youji's free hand was doing. He was almost grateful the guy was pinning him to the bed with the other hand. What Youji would be doing if he had both hands free didn't bear thinking about. "Because of Omi? He doesn't have to know."
"That's… not the point!" Ken managed. Ninety percent of his brain, clouded by lust, was now haranguing the remaining ten percent, demanding to know why he couldn't just go with it. It was some credit to Ken that the remaining ten percent still held a controlling interest. "I… goddammit it's not right! I really think… stop it…" Hm. For some reason that hadn't sounded remotely like a demand. He closed his eyes. "I mean, please don't. It's… Omi…" Holy shit. Omi! He'd almost forgotten all about him! How the fuck was he supposed to tell Omi that he'd let Youji fuck— "Omi!"
This time, Youji had expected it. "Ssh!" he whispered urgently, making sure he had a firm hold on Ken's wrists as the boy tried to pull free. If Ken managed to get away this time he could expect a broken nose at the very least. "Omi's probably asleep by now. Do you want him to see you like this?"
Ken did a double-take. "Like how?"
It took all of a second and a half for Ken to realize Youji, damn him, had asked a damn good question. He was flat on his back, legs splayed, his hands pinned above his head. Somehow his left leg had ended up hooked over one of Youji's shoulders – now how had that happened? – and never mind about Youji's bloody free hand! Yes, he was in a pretty compromising position and not one he would have liked to be discovered in by anyone at all, never mind by Omi. He blushed furiously at the thought. He could never have found any innocent justification for being caught in this position and he knew it.
"Come on, Kenken." Youji murmured into Ken's ear (oh yes, he really was in one hell of a compromising position. How could he have explained it? Extreme chiropractics? Assisted yoga?) his voice a low, throaty purr. "I know you're enjoying it. There's nothing wrong with giving yourself over to pleasure. And don't worry about Omi. He need never know. I won't tell him, I promise you." Maybe it was Youji's free hand's fault, but Ken found he was having a more than a little difficulty telling Youji to go away. That dissenting ten percent of his brain had, it seemed, finally been talked round by the rest of it. "Well…" he said shakily, "If you really won't tell…"
It was a tribute to Youji's prowess that when Crawford interrupted him, via the CCTV system, at a rather delicate moment a few short minutes later, Ken was in a sexual coma and barely noticed Youji's brief lapse of concentration never mind anything as contemporary as the TV monitor above the bed flickering into life. The world could have ended at that moment – and a tiny part of his mind was telling him that it damn near had done – and Ken wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Youji, however, looked up briefly as the shadows were illuminated by the dancing light from the monitor.
"What is it?" Youji murmured. "I'm… rather preoccupied."
Crawford coughed a discreet little butler's cough. "I am afraid that Aya has escaped, master." He said simply. "Your new playmate has vanished somewhere in the castle grounds. Schuldich has just released the dogs."
Youji tutted, then laughed playfully. "Just coming!"
He wasn't the only one.
Outside the castle Aya was in a position which was no less awkward, if not quite as compromising. In spite of the torrential downpour which had Ken deciding perhaps he'd wait to try and get away earlier, he had been stalking quietly and coolly around the gloomy, sodden grounds looking for the exit for about five minutes – it couldn't have been much longer than that, anyway – before he had heard the sounds of scrabbling paws and a veritable cacophony of barks and howls.
Looking behind him, he quickly made the unpleasant discovery that he was being chased by a foaming, snarling avalanche of Alsatian dogs. For a moment the expression of icy calm he had worn on his face for so much of his life was shattered as Aya allowed himself to feel rather perturbed. Even, almost, alarmed. Being chased by a pack of dogs whilst wearing nothing more than a pair of boots and scanty black briefs really was not a situation Aya would ever have wanted to get into.
Tightly clutching the katana in one hand, Aya broke into a run. Part of him was telling him that he could still escape if he made sure to run to the entrance. The rest of him told him he didn't care where he went to as long as there were no dogs chasing him and threatening to maul his inadequately protected manhood. Oh, and as long as it was away from Youji too. And Crawford. And Schuldich.
But what does that leave me with, Aya wondered as he ran. The bike shed?
Omi had pulled the few clothes he still possessed back on in a godawful hurry. He was blushing, wanted a shower and, worst of all, he was feeling horribly guilty. Never mind 'don't tell Ken', he had a horrible feeling he was going to have to and if Ken killed him because of it, well that Omi would have understood perfectly. Right now he would have gladly killed himself. Jesus God what on Earth had he done and why?
Well, that he knew. He had had sex with someone who was not only Not Ken but was also a near-stranger and, if that wasn't going to be hard enough to explain, said stranger was Nothing Like Ken. And it was because of the forces of unbridled lust. Yes, that had been it hadn't it? Omi was very new to this 'unbridled lust' thing and he wasn't sure he liked it. It seemed that when you got lust all logic went out the window along with all your moral scruples. He wished he hadn't… well, slept with Youji. Even if the man was kind of sexy and definitely good at it.
"Oh, no…"
Catching sight of himself in the mirror, Omi realized something he should have done the minute Youji had started gnawing on his neck. He now had the hickey of all time there and wasn't it just a sight. Placing one hand over it, Omi winced. Nope, there was no way he was going to be able to cover this one up. He didn't have any foundation for a start. Or an ice bag. Or a shirt. Ye Gods, he thought, staring into the mirror, am I in trouble here or what?
At which point he had an idea: he would find Ken and explain. No. Find Ken and apologize profusely. Even if it didn't work, it would at least be something to do.
Ken, meanwhile, wasn't doing a whole lot better. If truth be told, he was actually doing slightly worse.
Though he looked a little less obviously troubled than Omi, he was, in fact, wrestling with a whole slew of problems including 1. What About Omi?; 4. Guilt; 7. What Surgeons Refer to as 'Discomfort'; 10. Bruised Wrists; 12. Oh Dear God What Have I Done?; 15. Self-Disgust; 22. Really, What About Omi?; 23. Omi's Gonna Kill You, You Know; and last but by no means least 28. Hey, Why Am I Dating Omi When it Seems What I Really Want Deep in My Secret Heart is to be Dominated With a Capital Dominated.
All in all, not conjectures to make a guy feel comfortable. Especially not that last one. Ken had never really thought of himself as one of nature's submissives before. Was nature perhaps trying to tell him something?
In fact, Ken considered he was doing so badly that he was about to break the habit of a lifetime. True, he was only nineteen but when a body is nineteen years old, nineteen years is a long time. Whilst getting dressed again, if one could call putting underwear and a convenient cotton yukata on 'dressing', he had found, in the pocket of Youji's then-discarded leather pants, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Didn't they say smoking calmed the nerves? Well, frankly Ken was getting desperate and he'd take anything they gave him if he thought it'd help him think a little more clearly about the situation. A bullet to the brain would have been ideal.
Throwing himself back on the bed and landing heavily in the obviously disordered sheets, he tried to ignore the fact that Youji, now fully-dressed and looking very much in command of the situation, was sitting bolt upright at the end of the bed. He seemed to have gone to sleep, or into stand-by mode, or something. It was kind of weird but Ken wasn't about to ask him what was up. He did not want to attract the guy's attention.
Sighing deeply, Ken lit the cigarette he had stolen from Youji and, placing both hands behind his head, tried to inhale. It would have been a great pose if he hadn't had a coughing fit and felt as if he were about to be violently sick. It wasn't making him any less confused, either, only adding another problem (29. Jesus Christ, how does anyone start smoking at all?!) to the list. This, Ken thought, fucking sucked.
'Is It My Style'
Ken:
Is it my style to require domination,
Getting told just what to do?
Do I desire extreme subjugation?
Why not admit
That I've blown it –
I know it's true.
Omi stepped into the corridor, anxiously. It was cold. Damnation take it what had happened to that dust coat he'd been wearing? He'd forgotten the bloody thing, hadn't he? This wasn't fair. Still, it didn't matter. He guessed it was some kind of gesture of penitence for having been carried away by lust. Now if only he could find Ken he'd be able to unburden himself and would feel an awful lot better. Yes, that would work. Even if all that happened was he ended up dead at least then he wouldn't have to worry about the guilt any more.
Ken:
And that's really all that I need
To know that I'm a mental mess.
Perhaps I've a kink
But it's kinda hard to believe,
You learn something about yourself
You'd never guessed.
But, Omi thought, do I have to tell Ken? Youji said he wouldn't tell, so maybe if I don't I won't have to die. He knew Ken would be mad. Why wouldn't he be? Why bring all that down on yourself, Omi? Why provoke Ken's temper if you don't have to? Perhaps if he went and found a scarf and tied it round the hickey he'd be able to get away with not telling. Omi hesitated, blinking. Good God he was an intelligent kid and the best plan he could come up with for hiding an inconvenient love bite was 'wear a scarf'. No, that would never work. Besides, he didn't like the thought of deceiving Ken. Maybe not, he thought.
Ken:
Oh, Jesus, you know this is some situation.
No shit, Ken, what gave that away?
Could I take a lead,
With no trepidation?
I've got to cope.
Good God, I hope
It'll be okay.
As he reached the lift, Omi had decided. Yes, he was going to tell Ken what had happened. Honesty was an important quality in a relationship, wasn't it? Yeah, trust, honesty, all that. It wouldn't be nice to admit to cheating on someone when you'd only told him you loved him that afternoon, but maybe, just maybe they'd be able to get beyond it. Ken had seen Youji, he knew what a flirt the guy was. Surely he'd understand it wasn't at all easy to say 'no' when you were pinned to a bed by a force of nature named Hurricane Youji? And there was a difference between sex and love, right? Sex with love was surely the ideal, but having sex with someone didn't mean you loved them.
Ken:
And that's really all that I need
To know I've just gotta be strong.
I'm sure I'll think
Of how to proceed.
Sure, I'll admit
That I blew it –
But I'll move on.
Omi slipped into the lift cage and rode it up. He had no idea where he was going and it showed. He clung nervously to the bars as the thing moved up, aware the lift was very rickety and not sure he liked it. In fact he wasn't sure he'd liked any of this so far and he was beginning to feel not just guilty, but annoyed. If Ken decided to finish with him over this Omi thought he would want to scream.
"Why are we here?" He murmured, resting his head against the bars. "Why didn't I tell Ken-kun I'd have been happy renting a cheesy movie and spending the night on the couch? Why is my night out turning into a cheesy movie, but with sex scenes? Why am I in this stupid situation and why is everyone in this stupid castle absolutely nuts?! Except Ken-kun." He added judiciously.
The lift jolted to a halt, throwing Omi against the meshwork door and very nearly pitching him off his feet. If the thing had been any bigger, he was sure he would have fallen over.
"Why won't these stupid people get their stupid lift fixed!"
If Manx had looked prim before, that was nothing compared to how she looked for a brief few seconds right now. Good Lord. Couldn't Youji keep his pants zipped for five seconds? Going to bed with Aya, then Omi, then Ken one after the other and all within the space of an hour or so was a feat of stamina she wouldn't have believed even the great playboy was capable of. It was actually quite startling, and really no wonder that he was sat on the edge of Ken's bed in a total daze now. Ken's equally dazed state was rather less immediately understandable.
But she snapped out of it. She wasn't here to pass judgment on the morals, or apparent lack of same, of these boys. Settling back in her wing chair, she smiled both calmly and considerately.
"Why." She said gravely, her tones both detached and strangely maternal. "One small word, and yet a word which Omi repeated to himself over and over again. Yet it was far too late to discover a explanation for his predicament, or to wish that he had never fallen into it in the first place. It was as if he were riding a giant tidal wave. Futile, too, to try and fight against such a force of nature." Manx, of course, had no way of knowing that a force of nature exactly what Omi had compared the lust-crazed Youji to. "His only hope would be to ride it out, adapt, and in so doing perhaps also to survive."
Which, as Manx well knew, meant there was more sex coming up. Maybe, she thought, it was about time to start preaching morals to those boys after all. All this bed-hopping couldn't be good for them.
The lift had stopped back in the laboratory, now completely empty. Omi was kind of relieved to note that Ken wasn't in the laboratory, but that didn't answer the burning question of where he was. How was he supposed to apologize to the guy if he couldn't find him?
"Ken-kun," he said to the empty air, "Where are you?"
Temporarily out of ideas, Omi paced. He had nothing else to do and the laboratory, boasting as it did a large and practically empty sweep of floor space, was good for pacing in. He had just started to pace up and down beside the covered tank when he became aware of two things. One, there was a handy CCTV terminal installed on one of the walls. Omi, being an intelligent boy as well as a technically-minded assassin, albeit one in dire straits, guessed that it couldn't be too hard to figure out how to switch the channels on it and find out where Ken had got to that way. The second realization, coming hard on the heels of the first, was that he wasn't entirely alone.
He turned, frowning, trying to work out where the feeling was coming from. The room looked empty. So what… his gaze lighted on the covered tank. Ah. There was someone in the tank! Why would anyone choose to sit around in that tank? Unless… Omi gasped and colored. Was… was Aya in the tank?! Oh my God. Should he uncover it? Should he not? What if he was still wearing those briefs? Aya had made Omi think things the first time he'd clapped eyes on him and now, post-Youji, he had a rather better idea of exactly what things he had been thinking of.
Creeping over to the side of the tank, an easy task for anyone when not exactly overdressed, never mind for an assassin, Omi tentatively raised a corner of the cloth and peeped beneath it. There was someone in the tank!
"Hello?" Omi called, gently tugging the sheet away.
Oh, horror of horrors. It was Aya! And he was still wearing the briefs.
Omi immediately blushed furiously as Aya sat up, leaning on the side of the tank, and those amazing violet eyes met his own. Suddenly, he wished he was wearing the dust coat again. Something about Aya's cool regard made him extremely conscious of his own state of undress. Not that Aya was wearing any more than Omi himself was. Quickly he turned away, spotting the monitor again.
"Just a moment… I want to find out what's happened to Ken-kun."
Giving Aya a bright smile which the redhead, of course, didn't return, he hurried over to the monitor and began switching through the channels. For a while Omi saw nothing. Various empty rooms and corridors. Nagi and Schuldich sitting in one of the bedrooms having some kind of phallic take on a slumber party, his own empty room, occasional shots of Alsatian dogs tearing around the place looking for something to maim. No sign of Ken, or of Youji for that matter. It wasn't terribly interesting. He began to think he wouldn't find anything until he switched into another of the bedrooms.
The image displayed on the screen was not designed to reassure Omi. Not one little bit. Youji was still sat at the end of the bed, now smoking a cigarette of his own. Ken, wearing a cotton yukata – though going by the amount of leg he was showing he might as well not have bothered putting the thing on – lay face-up on the bed behind him, either in a daze or asleep. It wasn't easy to tell. What it was easy to tell was what the pair must have been getting up to. It hardly required much of an effort on Omi's part given his own earlier… experiences in that direction.
It left Omi, staring at the screen in invidious rage, hurt. Jealous, resentful and angry. Partly because of Youji – he must have gone chasing after Ken almost the minute he let himself out of Omi's bedroom and knowing that all the blonde had wanted from him was sex was rather insulting – but mainly because of Ken. God, how dare he!
"Ken-kun!" Omi cried in indignant horror. "How could you…!" a thought occurred to him, "do… exactly the same thing… that I've just gone and done. Oh."
He let his head hang forward, hair in his face. Righteous indignation was really no fun when the object of your anger had just as much reason to be angry at you and for exactly the same reason. Let it not be said Omi was anything but a fair-minded soul. It didn't stop him being angry, but it did, unfortunately, mean that he couldn't take the 'oh how could you do such a vile thing to me, does my love mean that little to you?!' moral high ground that, ordinarily, a betrayed lover had recourse to. How could Omi complain when Ken was only doing exactly the same things he had done?
The one plus was that it meant Ken couldn't get mad at him when and if he chose to reveal his own little indiscretion. Omi turned away from the monitor, fuming, and met Aya's eyes again. The redhead was still in the tank, watching him incuriously.
It was then Omi realized that Aya looked rather disheveled. His fine red hair was damp and disordered, his fair skin spattered here and there with mud and bruises and scarred with the occasional cut. He blinked, suddenly troubled. What had happened to poor Aya? He was far too… too… Omi's mind supplied beautiful, he rejected it out of hand then decided, why not? Yes, far too beautiful to have something like that happen to him! Hurrying over to the battered redhead, blue eyes full of concern, Omi looked around for something he could use to dress Aya's wounds, eyes finally alighting on his own undershirt. Hm. Yes, that would do.
"You're hurt, Aya-kun." He said softly, placing one hand on Aya's bruised forearm.
"It's nothing." Aya replied instinctively.
Omi shook his head firmly. "No, it's not. You're bleeding, Aya-kun… Here, let me help."
Aya capitulated, allowing Omi to fuss around him, exclaiming once or twice as he spotted a few painful-looking scratches. Really, Aya wasn't as badly hurt as all that: certainly he was nowhere near as seriously hurt as all Omi's fussing would have suggested, but Omi didn't care. He was finally getting to touch the gorgeous Aya without anyone yelling at him or pulling him away and Omi was determined that he was going to make the most of it.
Perhaps it was because he was irritated at Ken, but the proximity of Aya in his full glory was making Omi think things again. And, this time – definitely because he was irritated at Ken – Omi wasn't telling himself he should stop.
And that was how Omi made his Third Big Mistake of the night.
Manx stood, crossed over to her bookcase and retrieved a heavy, leather-bound dictionary, trying not to look disapproving. Honestly, Youji she could understand but she would have expected better of Omi and Aya. She almost wished she could interrupt them before they started – Omi's 'injury-checking' was already far more enthusiastic than Aya's condition warranted. This was getting ridiculous.
She opened the dictionary, leafed through it until she found the entry she was looking for, then read. "Emotion." She looked up from the pages, her red hair tumbling down one side of her face. "A strong feeling, as of joy, sorrow, or hate; a state of mental agitation or disturbance." Was that really the best that lexicographers could come up with as a definition of emotion? Manx wondered. God, what a dry definition of something that could prove so utterly overwhelming. She closed the book, holding it in one slender hand, and raised her head. "It is also a powerful and irrational master. And, in light of the events which Schuldich and Nagi eagerly witnessed on their own television monitor, Omi was unquestionably held within its thrall."
In short: someone, please, hose Omi down.
Nagi had found the channel quite by accident.
Schuldich had been flipping between Aya's brush with the Alsatians and Youji's collision with Ken for the last half-hour or so but both top-class sporting events had now concluded and there was nothing worth seeing. And certainly there was nothing worth watching on the actual television. He had been about to turn it off when Nagi, now dressed in a pair of baggy pajamas and looking even more like jailbait than he had in the sequined number he'd worn earlier, had decided, why not check the rooms one last time?
If he'd actually had to get up from his laughably diminutive bed to do this, Nagi might well not have bothered but, flipping from channel to channel using only the power of his mind, he spotted the goings-on in the laboratory and guessed, quite correctly, that another collision was in the offing.
"Schuldich, look at this." He said evenly.
Schuldich turned back to the monitor, blinking. "Well I'll be goddammed," he said with a smirk. "I didn't think the brat had it in him."
Nagi raised an eyebrow. "What's he thinking?"
The redhead laughed. "You don't need me to tell you that, Nagi." He chuckled, flopping languorously down to watch the screen. He grinned. "Oh, this is going to be good."
Aya submitted to Omi's attempts to clean his wounds with his usual stoic dignity. He didn't quite seem to realize – unlike Schuldich and Nagi – that Omi's intents had gone from hoping to simply bandage him up to… quite other matters. He was still under six hours old, though, and though Youji had been more than prepared to show him a bit of 'the other', he hadn't exactly explained the art of the blatant come-on to poor Aya, leaving him more than a little flummoxed by Omi's blatantly flirtatious sallies. He didn't understand what in the world the little blonde was trying to do and was, to be honest, rather confused. Hadn't this boy been with someone else earlier?
Maybe that didn't mean anything. Aya was rather confused and his brow furrowed. What was going on here? Maybe it was worth asking. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he should tell Omi to go away. He nearly did, but sadly for Aya, Omi's proximity was causing him to think a few things himself.
'Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me'
Omi:
I find from time to time
Ken-kun's kind
Simply can't give me all I need.
Nagi blinked, turning to look at Schuldich in bewilderment. He'd known this strange couple were naïve, but Good God there were limits to his credulity. The redhead shrugged. He wasn't at all surprised.
Nagi:
Only 'from time to time'?
Schuldich:
Go fig.
Omi, oblivious, busied himself tugging at the hem of his undershirt, tearing a piece off and using it to dab at a scratch on Aya's upper arm. Aya looked down at him in mild confusion. The cut had stopped bleeding long ago. What was this strange child doing?
Omi:
I guess there's no denying
That at least… he's trying.
But, well, he's kinda clueless
Which ain't satisfying.
And now he's made me mad,
And that's too bad
'Cause I've a hunger
I must feed.
Schuldich and Nagi:
Feed, feed, feed.
Another rip and a good half of Omi's undershirt had gone West, leaving him in an incredibly attenuated… thing which looked more like a little girl's crop top or a slightly overlarge bikini top but, more importantly, with a pair of handy rags to bandage Aya with. He managed, with a little difficulty, to find a sluggishly bleeding wound (and what luck, it was on Aya's upper thigh!) and began, ever so diligently, to wrap the scraps of his shirt around it. How fortunate for Omi that he knew first aid.
Omi:
I may be over-zealous
In making Ken-kun jealous
But maybe there is something
Fate's trying to tell us.
Aya blinked again, surprised. The bandage on, Omi had now turned his attention to his shoulders, which he was attempting, with some difficulty given the tank, to massage. "I'm not injured there," he pointed out. Sadly, Omi didn't seem to have heard. Tentatively, he reached for Aya's hands and placed them on his own waist. Aya began to understand.
Omi:
Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me.
I'm feelin' quite flirty.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me.
Hunter of the Light.
I've gotta fuel the fire
Of my desire
So kiss me quick then love me slow.
Schuldich and Nagi:
Slow, slow, slow.
Omi:
I know it's bad behavior –
Aya-kun, I need a favor.
We need not tell the others,
I wont betray you.
Omi had now given up all pretense that he was trying to heal Aya. Jumping into the tank, where Aya was still conveniently ensconced, he wrapped his arms around the redhead. He was glad to note that yes, Aya was beginning to get the idea. Clumsily, he was attempting to respond to Omi's equally clumsy caresses.
Omi:
Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me.
I'm feelin' quite flirty.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me.
Hunter of the Light.
Nagi and Schuldich did know what to do. It was a pity they weren't at all attracted to one another though Schuldich, for his own amusement, had begun to paw at Nagi in a not-so-loving parody of the pair. Okay, he thought, they're both pretty inexperienced but damn, this is one awkward-looking encounter.
Nagi:
Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me.
Schuldich:
I'm feelin' quite flirty.
Nagi:
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me.
Schuldich:
Hunter of the Light.
Inexperienced or not, Omi was enjoying himself so maybe it didn't matter. Somehow he had now ended up beneath Aya, though the tank wasn't big and it must have taken quite the effort. All the same, that was where he was and he was damn pleased to be there, too. Aya was damn gorgeous and who cared if he wasn't quite the same sexual tornado Youji had been?
Omi:
Oh, touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me.
I'm feelin' quite flirty.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me – oh -
Hunter of the Light.
Aya:
Hunter of the Light.
Omi nodded, then took time out to succumb to what could only have been described as a brief group-sex fantasy. The way events were panning out, it was probably no bad idea.
Ken:
Hunter of the Light?
Youji:
Hunter of the Light.
Schuldich:
Hunter of the Light.
Crawford:
Hunter of the Light.
Nagi:
Hunter of the Light.
Aya:
Hunter of the Light.
Omi:
Hunter of the Light. Oh!