Say It

xxx

Additional warning: boy in bed with boy. Slightly more detailed.

xxx

Yohji was on his knees in front of Aya, in Aya's room. Yohji had cast aside his reading glasses that lay forgotten on his bookshelf, and was sliding his splayed hands up Aya's legs, his touch hot through the silky soft leather. Aya was looking down at the tousled blond head, a small smile on his lips.

Yohji gazed up at him, his expression rapt, smiling, his eyes warm. "Let me give you a massage."

Aya let Yohji roll the vest up and off him. "It was chafing," he said when Yohji kissed the reddish marks in his armpits.

Yohji laughed. "Chibi size. He's got some growing to do there."

"You could have picked one of yours."

Yohji kissed the tip of Aya's nose. "They were too... um, how should I put it..."

"Indecent." A scratchy, tight chuckle escaped Aya's throat: his version of a laugh. To think that Yohji had been considerate enough to pick something he thought less revealing than his collection of netting and cropped tops...

"Hm," Yohji grumbled, swiftly fumbling open the buttons of Aya's leather jeans. Aya's breath left him in one long hiss when Yohji's bottle-blond head pressed against him down there, Yohji's arms wrapping around his legs, his hands cupping the back of Aya's thighs, sliding to the back of his knees, and up again to begin kneading his backside.

Aya's head lolled forward, then he threw it back and squeezed his eyes shut in abandon. He had to clutch at fistfuls of bleached hair to stay on his feet. Yohji slithered up Aya's body, mapping every inch with his tongue and hands, fingers digging softly into firm flesh. Aya felt on fire and melting, and then he lost balance and orientation after all, only to find himself on his stomach, his nose pressing into his futon, the faint aroma of crisp white linen, sun and rain making him dizzy. The leathers were peeled off his legs and tugged free of his feet. He could hear the soft thud and flop as the garment was tossed against the door and fell to the tatami floor.

Yohji's hands, large, hard, warm. Smoothing oil all over Aya's white limbs until the younger man was moaning softly into his bedding. Yohji's lips whispering and kissing his hot, glistening skin. Yohji's knees between Aya's thighs, and Aya could feel...

He gasped, wanting to tense, to relax, he did not know which.

And then, Yohji's body grew heavy on his, chest to back, covering him, feet on feet, hands on hands, a shield of warmth against the cold world beyond.

Aya wanted to die like this.

Yohji nuzzled the back of Aya's neck, his jaw, the shell of his ear. A wet, gentle kiss, even though Yohji was breathing rather hard. He WAS hard, Aya could tell from what was pressing between his buttocks through the damp fabric of Yohji's briefs, from the tension that made Yohji's thighs shake with the effort to keep from thrusting, from the tiny grinding movements of his hips that he was unable to control. "Ayan," Yohji murmured, "would you... if you... if you like, you could have me now."

And Aya realised through the floaty fog in his mind that Yohji had sprawled out on top of him because Yohji had to hold on to something to stop himself from doing what he would do otherwise.

A searing flash of lust ripped through Aya. Tearing away the layers of languor Yohji's skilful fingers had massaged into his limbs. Setting ablaze the glow inside his belly, and pouring it white-hot into his groin. With a deep gasp, he clawed into the futon and bit into the pillow.

A shiver ran through Yohji – they had played rough before, and even though Yohji had yielded, he had been oddly still afterwards, tending to scratches and teethmarks on his smooth hide, assessing the damage to other parts of his body... no, Yohji did not like this. To him, sex and power games did not belong together.

Alright, where did that leave them now... Aya forced himself to let go of mattress and pillow and sucked in a slow, deep breath before turning onto his side from beneath Yohji. Who rolled over onto his back, one thigh trapped beneath Aya's hip. Wordlessly, Yohji drew up the other leg, slipped it free of the briefs, and let himself fall wide open.

Aya gave him a hungry all-over, breathless with what he saw. Yohji, perfect, thoroughly aroused, beautiful. An invitation to SIN. His to take, his to keep? Aya dove in to kiss him. "Yoh... Yohji..." he murmured, sliding his hand through golden-brown locks.

Green eyes meeting purple contacts. "Aya." Firm, calm. Yohji's to give, and take away at will...

Aya dipped his finger into the massage oil in a shallow bowl on his nightstand, and began to draw gleaming patterns on Yohji's skin. Circling his nipples that looked like small knobs of dark toffee, painting around his navel, and along the faint dusting of dark-blond hair that ran down to his crotch. Dipped, traced anew – from the hollow beneath Yohji's throat, a slow, broad line down his middle, into his navel, lingering along the dark line, and further down.

Yohji's eyes rolled up and he shuddered, a moan floating from his parting lips. Aya could see the muscles of his backside flex and tense as his hips lifted slightly into Aya's touch.

When Aya bent to take one of those sweet-looking nipples between his lips, Yohji's head snapped to one side. His eyes squeezed shut, and his untrapped knee bent outwards a bit more, the muscles of his thigh and calf straining under smooth skin. Aya saw him reach up and claw into the edge of the futon, in a gesture that was as much begging as displaying. Mussed hair, flushed skin, a pink blush creeping from his cheeks down to his chest, tousled darkness in his armpits. Muscles tense, tiny tremors running the length of this body Aya had known and still wanted to explore anew every time...

Every time they were close. Every time they were apart. Always.

Yohji in this pose of deepest submission was doing things to Aya Yohji could not do when he was at his most skilful best. Having him like this, passive, utterly vulnerable, spread out beneath Aya's touch...

Aya growled quietly. To imagine him like that with someone else...

Yohji yelped at the sudden swipe of sharp nails down his soft abdomen.

And Aya saw the lustful tension melt from this honeyed body, like a wave washing ashore and sinking into the sand, leaving nothing but a fleeting shadow of itself. Yohji's hands loosened, he brought them down, one arm angling protectively over his belly, the other one settling tensely by his side. His chest was still heaving, but his leg straightened, his muscles hardened, his skin cooled.

He said nothing and he did not open his eyes. The expression of bliss that a heartbeat ago had been glowing on his face gave way to careful blandness.

"Yohji." Aya rubbed soothingly over the reddening trail his nails had scoured onto Yohji's skin. "I am sorry."

Silence. Aya heard the pounding of his own blood in his temples, Yohji breathing; he could see the skipping of his pulse in the blueish vein at his neck. Fast and jumpy.

Then, very quietly, "Is alright, Ayan. I can take it."

Still breathing in small puffs, Aya sat up and leaned back against the wall at the head end of his futon, his hands folded over his groin. "How can I... why do you have to out and fuck anyone who wants you?"

"I am no one's property." Yohji's tone was cool, measured, as though he had not just tumbled down from a soaring height.

"And I'm no pansy!"

More silence.

"Yohji, I..."

Yohji lay still, as if sleeping. Aya leaned over and smoothed a few blond bangs from his cheek. Yohji was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Yohji?" Aya kissed his temple. "Yohji, what if... look, at least let Ken cover my back on those damn missions. Stay backstage with Omi. Ken will do fine."

Swollen lips snapping free of sharp teeth. "Who better than me to keep your ass covered?" In every sense. "We knew what the job entails. Accidents do happen. We just have to live while we can."

"And not think about tomorrow?" Aya muttered, his voice rough.

"It's not just the dark beasts that we deny their tomorrow. Better not to think about it."

Aya pulled a sheet up to cover Yohji and tucked it in by his shoulders. "I cannot do this. It's roiling around my guts all the time."

"Rubbish," Yohji snarled into the pillow. "When I die, I want you to dance on my grave. I want you to go out and find someone else, someone better. A nice girl, with money. Someone that suits you. Until then, you can fuck me, but don't expect exclusive rights."

Aya lay down by Yohji's side, barely touching, but not able to stay away completely. "You tell Schuldig the same?"

A soft snort. "He and I... we talk."

"I saw that."1

"Well, that was a one off. He was all over me, what could I do? He's an idiot."

"You could have said no. You like him. I'm not stupid, I can see you do."

"He's easy. I don't need to think when he's babbling away."

Aya fell silent, thinking, listening to Yohji's breathing evening out. "I can't share," he said into the stillness of the room.

Yohji made a muffled sound into the blanket. Aya writhed closer and moulded against his back. "Yohji, you mustn't... you... let me take care of you."

"...myself," came the muted reply.

"No, you can't. You do all these things..." Aya's hand, softened by the oil, trailing down Yohji's back, to his most intimate place. Warm fingers caressing, begging for entrance. Wordlessly, Yohji raised one thigh towards his chest and hooked his arm under his knee. Aya slid into him without resistance, welcomed, swallowed by the heat inside this warm, hard body.

Slow, hot, thorough. Aya was making love, for once not having a quick screw. The guilt that was burning him up had receded, displaced by another, more urgent feeling of need. "Who... who dressed me?" he yapped softly, smoothing back a few sweaty blond bangs from Yohji's temple.

"I... ah... I did."

"Keep... keeping my ass co... oh, gods... Yohji..."

xxx

"I win," Ken whispered hotly into Omi's ear that was not pressed against the wall. Omi let himself be drawn back onto Ken's bed. He gave Ken a shimmering blue gaze, all innocence and smiles.

"Aa, you top this time," he said softly, rolling over and drawing Ken with him. It did not matter that they both had known... well, perhaps not. Perhaps, if Omi had not insisted on taking what was clearly the losing end of the bet...

And yet... "How did you know they'd not murder one another?" Ken mumbled between hot kisses.

"Didn't," Omi breathed. "But we were around to keep an eye, weren't we?"

"You lost a bet... you let me win, didn't you?"

"Just you," Omi laughed softly.

"No blondies?"

"Iie."

"Then let me give you one big thank you..."

xxx

Outside, a car with darkened windows pulled up by the kerb opposite the Koneko. The passenger door flew open, and a shadow emerged from the darkness brooding beyond the reach of the streetlamp. A flash of bright copper as the lanky form brushed the circle of orange light.

"I want you to get in," a clear, cool voice commanded from inside the car.

"I'm fine here, thank you very much," came the sulky, sibilant retort. A lighter snapped, briefly casting a yellow light across Schuldig's sharp, young features and pale eyes.

"No, you are not."

"Man, Brad, you're not my mother, so quit messing me about."

"Wrong again. I am your mother and father, your team leader and everything you have on this shitty world. Now, will you be good? Or are you disobeying a direct order?"

"Everything?" Schuldig stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Including your bedwarmer. Move already, let's get back before Mr Takatori shits his pants. I need an eyeful of sleep, and I want you to sleep with me. Get in."

And Schuldig obeyed, without another word.

xxx

Aya had seen the glance the redhead cast up at the window where he was looking into the dark street from behind the flimsy bamboo blind. Yohji was asleep on his futon, tanned limbs sprawled out on the perfect white of Aya's bedlinen. The room smelled of sex and sweat, a little of Aya's soap and Yohji's shampoo, and of the grassy aroma of the tatami mats.

When Yohji was asleep in this room, the room became Aya's home. He was at peace for a merciful while, and the look Schuldig shot him did not disturb him too much.

Yohji stirred a little. Aya went back to settle by his side, tracing the warm, firm body with his fingers. Learning him by heart, yet again, for Aya's hunger for this golden warmth was never sated...

Yohji had not been afraid of giving himself. Aya did not understand. Being inside this body, having him writhe and push against Aya's hard limbs, holding him while he threw his head back against Aya's shoulder and shuddered and keened as release crashed through him... Aya trembled and groaned as he felt his body respond. He had been allowed to fill, to possess, to own... only to lose yet again, for Yohji had not given everything.

"Yohji?" Aya's hand settled heavily on Yohji's thigh.

"Hmmm..."

"Why won't you stop?"

Whoring around. Getting high. Sinking low. Slurping from the gutters until it made him sick and dirty...

"Told you, I'm on my own."

"But..."

Yohji turned, green eyes narrow, heavy with sleep. "I'm clobbered. Can't you go practice, or something?"

"This is my room."

"Want me to go over to my den?"

"No. I want you to listen to me."

"Oh, shit, Ayan, I don't need a chewing out now. Look, I'm sorry, right? Now can I go back to sleep?"

"Why was Schuldig there, at that bar?"

Yohji closed his eyes and turned away, burying his nose in the blanket. "Dunno."

"He was after you, wasn't he?"

Yohji's shoulders heaved in a sigh. "So what? Is not my fault he's stalking me."

Aya withdrew his hand and shifted so that he did not touch Yohji anymore. He tugged at the blanket and clutched it to his chest. "Why can you understand him but not me?"

Yohji turned onto his back with a grunt and pressed his splayed hand over his eyes. "I understand you alright, Ayan. And I'm tellin' you, I'm my own man."

"So you lied to me?"

The silence tasted bitter. Yohji sat up and ruffled both hands through his hair. "I need a smoke."

"In the nightstand. Your brand."

Yohji scrambled to a crouch, retrieved a brand new packet of cigarettes, but did not open it. He kept turning it in his fingers, watching the light that trickled between the bamboo slats of the blinds, reflecting from the cellophane wrapper that sealed the packet.

"Maybe we were both just chasing an illusion," he said quietly. "I am not cross with you. It's my fault."

"Just stop slutting around," Aya burst out, bunching the blanket over his stomach.

"I will do as I like."

"Yohji..."

"Until you have the guts to say it. Then I'll stop. You tell me what you want of me. Tell me what you FEEL, here," he half turned and placed his hand over Aya's heart. A green gaze, questioning, hopeful, then resigned even as a vague smile curved Yohji's lips. "If you feel anything for me, that is. Otherwise, I'm okay being your friendly fuck now and then."

He was not okay, Aya knew. Yohji talked in his sleep, sometimes. And yet... "I... I am not sure. Perhaps if you'd stop, it would be easier."

Yohji turned away and ripped open the packet. Where his hand had lain over Aya's heart, the warmth that had soaked through the blanket faded away, leaving Aya distinctly chill.

"How can I trust you if you go out with... with anybody who asks? With HIM?"

"Then don't. It doesn't matter, is nothing to it, is there?"

Aya made no reply. Yohji looked over his shoulder, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He took it out again. "You... when you're drunk, Ayan..."

Aya shifted uncomfortably, but held Yohji's glance. "Yes?"

"You're refusing to tell me now... but when you're pissed as hell, you'll say it. To a room full of people, you will say it. You need to be shitfaced to face up to it, but then you'll even tell Schuldig."

Aya's eyes went round. "Is that why..."

"Yeah. And he knows I will be yours the day you pluck the courage to tell me when you're sober. It doesn't have to be with anybody around. Just you and me, alone. You say the word, and Kudoh the Flirt will be done flirting and do whatever you say." Yohji paused, clicked the lighter, watched the flame that danced in the depths of his eyes. "Until such time, nothing will change. I'll cover you on missions. I'll let you screw me. And I'll keep going out." He looked at Aya again, as if waiting...

Then he lit the cigarette, got up and nodded. "Thanks for the fags."

"Where... where are you going?"

"Want me to stay?"

Another tense silence, before Yohji blew a stream of smoke through his nose and walked towards the door. "Sleep well."

Aya gathered the blanket close. He could smell the aroma of Yohji's skin, and when he closed his eyes and listened long enough, he could hear his steps that were fading on the corridor... come closer again, walk through his door, laughing softly, just joking, kiss me, let's sleep now...

And Aya let images of his dreams soak into his mind even as he was drifting to sleep. Greeting him like an old acquaintance; always the same dream...

xxx

Aya dreamed of golden heat.
Aya dreamed he was sinking.
In his dream, he said the words Yohji needed to hear.

And then there was but silence.
And the beat of two hearts.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

xxx

The End

Notes:
1 See 'Seasons Of Love'