II

How could he have been so stupid? Aya leaned over the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. Clouds of milky white air drifted behind him from the shower. He tried to force his heart to set down the pace. Searched his own eyes for an answer. His ass hurt, with a shrug he pictured what it looked like right now. Open and used, leaking creamy, white semen. He only had to move to remember the facts. No matter how unpleasant, the truth stood still: He'd been throughout, literarily fucked by Yohji Kudou...

Aya leaned his forehead against the smooth surface of the mirror. A row of smiling, female faces passed through his mind, Yohji's arms around their waists, his mouth close to their ears, whispering sweet secrets and dirty words...and now him; Aya...another one in the row - And Yohji would live on to tell the tale, or choose not to, there was nothing Aya could do about it.

With a sigh he turned and entered the shower. A weak moment, some pressure on a soft spot, was that all it took? he mused...To have him, - all panting and hard, spreading his legs beneath the other? And *Yohji*, of all people.

Aya took a soap bar, started to smear the bubbly white substance that formed over his tired, spent body. Let the water trickle down between his buttocks, but he didn't touch it, didn't dare to, as if the area was infected...dangerous... held evidence of shame.

How on earth were they supposed to go on working together after this? How could he ever look at Yohji and not be embarrassed? Of all the mistakes he had made...Aya shook his head. Remember how not only his body had yielded but his mind as well. The compassion and tenderness he'd felt when he was lying there with the shivering man in his arms. Let him too close...all too close. Given him dangerous information; Aya can be swayed...Aya can even be seduced...Body and mind. One kiss, that was all it took. One kiss and he'd been bough and sold.

He wondered how long Yohji had been waiting for the opportunity, at least his speech had been well prepared. Maybe he'd seen it as a challenge, to melt the ice virgin. Or was it just a fling? A last fuck before dying? Most likely the last Aya thought while leaning against the white tiled wall, staring out in emptiness, still with the soap in his hand, cascades of warm water showering his body. Never clean again, was the words that leapt to mind...never truly clean again.

And on top of it all; the relief that Yohji would survive. That he would live, be alive... *there*...Things would be normal again. The four of them there above Kitten in the house. Living together, working together, nothing would change, except for...everything!

He looked over to the mirror, caught glimpses of pale skin marred by blue-red marks through the white fog. He touched them; sore and swollen places on his chest where Yohji's lips had touched him, sucked at him. A row of red marks where Yohji's teeth had bit into his skin. He lifted his fingers and felt on his neck, knew they were there as well, tender white drowned by deep red color. Blood red, angry and cruel - marked, tainted, bruised.

Aya sighed again and let his head fall back to the wall, still with one hand pressed to his neck, the other holding the slippery soap bar. He saw Yohji's shampoo on the shelf, his toothbrush by the sink, a strand of long, blond hair on the floor and closed his eyes. Things would most definitely never be the same.

What had he been thinking? He should have known better. Given Omi and Ken a chance. Should have known they'd save the day. Weiss always saved the day. He hadn't been thinking, that was the problem. He had let himself be trapped by the heat of the other man's body, betrayed by his own. The passion it suddenly decided to unleash. One kiss was all it took...one kiss, that was all.

After minutes that seemed small eternities he stepped out of the quickly cooling shower, knew Omi, Ken and maybe, Yohji, would be mighty pissed if he used all the hot water. He quickly wrapped a white towel around his waist, avoided looking at ...that area, instead he wiped a small circle of the mirror free from damp with his palm. Looked at the face that stared back him through the hole: The hair a slick, red hood over his scalp, the nose, sharp and angled, eyes too intense, sucked all life from the surrounding area. His mouth; nothing to say about it. It was just there.

Romeo! He thought bitterly and turned away. Maybe he should be grateful after all, at least someone had wanted to fuck him, a *beautiful* man at that. A beautiful, *dying* man, he reminded himself. It wasn't like he'd had any options. Poor Kudou...he almost smiled a little and grabbed another towel, dried off quickly before pulling his pants back on, they were sticky and uncomfortable but would have to do until he reached his room. He was not walking the distance with just a towel, not today...or any day to come.

*

Aya desperately tried to hold on to the fine shroud of sleep that he'd finally claimed after chasing it for hours - ignoring the sounds from downstairs. Some of them sounded disturbingly like sobs, others were footsteps. Now the sound of a door that opened and slammed back in the frame, Omi's voice loud and cheerful in the hall: "Yohji-kun!"

Nobody seemed to come looking for him and he was more grateful for that. He heard footsteps again, murmuring voices. Yohji's deep voice and he cringed inside. Did he leave? Where was he going? And why on earth did he even care?!

He turned his back to the room, to the world, determined to sleep. Didn't want to think of, dwell on, the memory of the hands that had touched his body, the firm strokes - no more than that: The man that had fucked him. Even in his dozed state Aya managed to redden with shame. Remembered the narrow hips moving, pounding his organ into him. And his own utter willingness. His own shameful eagerness. The soreness of his body, the aching pain from the number of angry red marks was a constant reminder, - and only sleep could free him from the knowledge. So Aya closed his eyes, renewed his determination to chase it all away with blissful oblivion and rest.

Of course his dreams were full of him. Glittering, green eyes, a cheesy smile. Cascades of blond hair and a long, lean body. He dreamed they were on a mission, silently approaching a house, he could see Ken to his left, had Omi at his rear. The target was inside and Aya felt focused, cold. Then suddenly someone tugged hard at his duster, pulled him backwards so he fell to his knees struggling to get back up.

"You don't need *that*" Yohji's casual voice, and the katana was taken from his hands, sent spinning through the air and out of reach, - then he was naked, on his fours on the moist soil, being fucked by Yohji Kudou, again.

They were in the mission room. For some reason Aya knew the air down there was thick with what they'd done. He was sure the others could smell it. Manx stood there in her cute red dress, mission instructions in hand. She sniffed the air and looked meaningful at him like she'd done in the hall. Omi moved uncomfortable on the couch, lifted his hand from the fabric, looked at as if it was dirty. Ken cast him an accusatory glare, folded his arms over his chest. Then Yohji came up behind him and embraced him, tackled him to his knees.

"Kiss me, Aya!" he uttered and Aya's clothes melted away, and they were fucking on the floor in the mission room.

He stood with his beloved Katana to Takatori's throat. They were in a office of sorts. The light from a lamp post the only source of light, streaming in through the window and lit up the dark room. Aya felt his anger, his bitterness. The pure hatred stream through his body,-and now, in this moment, it was finally time for his revenge...

Suddenly an arm from behind, coiling around his neck. Against his will he was dragged from Takatori. His hands suddenly slippery, he lost his hold on the man. His katana fell clattering to the floor and he was spun around as if weightless.

"No..." he protested with passion. The disappointment and agony burning in his chest. A glimpse of green eyes and he was lifted from the floor as a rag doll, plastered up against the wall. Suddenly he realized he was naked under the burgundy coat and Yohji was between his legs Caught between Yohji and the wall he was quickly impaled on the blond. Being fucked again. He heard Takatori's cold laughter in the background. His own whimpers and moans. And Yohji smiled teasingly.

"You are so beautiful, how could I not fall in love with you?" he said mockingly, repeated his words from earlier while slamming into his body.

"No!" Aya woke up with a scream. Sitting in the bed, his body drenched with sweat. He covered his face with his palms, tried to calm his own choked up breath.

Stupid, stupid, stupid - he thought while doing something so unusual as getting out of the bed to look for a pajamas. A considerable erection rearing from his crotch, making the whole thing so much worse. Despite the terror of the dreams, they had aroused him as well, as if he hadn't had enough trouble due to hormones the previous day. He checked the time and realized it was the middle of night. He wondered if Yohji was home, and if he was, if he was asleep. And if...did he...no! Kudou was a sensible man, he'd probably not given the incident in the basement a second thought. Wise of him, Aya thought while pulling out a pair of soft, grey pants, quickly pulling them over his hips, trying to ignore the softening erection.

How to face him, he pondered. How to face the blond the next day, that was the question...with a uneasy heart he went back to bed, tried to read a bit but found it hard to focus. In the end he gave up and turned out the light. He turned and tossed for a bit, deliberately avoiding thinking of the scene in the mission room, and miracle above all miracles; he fell asleep. Fell asleep and into another nightmare: A disturbingly clear and vivid one.

In this dream it had all gone wrong. Omi and Ken hadn't made it. Yohji was dead. The scene was so natural, familiar. Him, Ken and Omi in the kitchen, Omi and Ken sat by the table. Aya made tea. But they all knew it, he was dead. The bomb had went off and everything that had been Yohji Kudou had been scattered about a large area of the beach. there were lilies on the table, a black bow attached to the vase. Aya thought of Yohji's room upstairs. Still full of his earthly belongings. He wondered who would clear it. What would happen to his stuff. His cds, his sketch books, the impressive collection of clothes...where would it all end up? Would it be thrown away? Stored somewhere?

He could feel the sore spots on his body from their lovemaking. Felt them when he moved. It made him sad to think of. At least he'd got to do his favorite thing one last time before dying. And Aya had received the gift of manhood from a dead man...And because it was a dream and on some level he knew, Aya cried. Deep, painful sobs of sorrow and grief. He'd miss him so much! God, how he would miss him. The teasing smile, the twinkle in his eyes, the deep green color that could outshine emeralds. The lean, tanned body that always caught Aya's attention even if he wouldn't admit it if they gave him Takatori bound and gagged...Thick hair the rich color of sun dried wheat, golden hues rippling in the wind...And now he was gone...

Aya sat up in the bed again, gasping for air. It took him a moment to regain focus. Separate fantasy from reality, dream from present. It wasn't until he moved that he remembered that the basement incident had indeed been real. *That* had actually happened. But the rest...Aya felt moistness on his cheeks, wiped it off, realized it was tears. He'd been crying in his sleep, over Yohji. But Yohji wasn't dead. Yohji was still alive - and Aya realized that he, for reasons he couldn't quite figure, sincerely feared the future.

*

Yohji had to stay in the hospital for almost a week. Omi and Ken went to see him. Aya did not. He made sure not to be around when the other two left, packed with orchids and messy chocolate that Yohji never ate. Omi cheerfully happy that he was alive. Ken with his mild smile, but his eyes hadn't completely lost the expression of relief. It was like that with Ken, he didn't believe in luck until reality had really 'set', until he saw that it would last. Never took anything for granted...Aya sympathized with that. This time however the luck seemed sure to last.

Aya stubbornly ignored the unspoken questions and the mild annoyance he could read in Omi's face when they returned from their visits. He busied himself with double shifts in the store, took Yohji's as well as his own and went to see Aya-chan more often than usual. He had never been more careful and focused when composing flower decorations, never taken the customers requests more seriously. He even bothered to ask what color they would prefer on their wrapping.

Every night he examined his marks. Saw them slowly fade away, turn blue, then purple and black before turning a dirty shade of yellowish brown and be gone. He didn't sleep much though, when darkness came and there was nothing left to do, the thoughts came back. His stomach hurt when he thought about it: Yohji's return. What would it be like? How was he supposed to act?

Damn Yohji! He cursed inwardly. He knew this game, had played it more times than could be counted...he knew how to behave, how to react. He was the house's slut for heaven's sake. A big, bad flirt! Aya wasn't, or so he had thought. He didn't know what was required. How he was to...welcome him home with this lingering between them. And why did it feel, almost sad, in a way, that those darn marks faded? And why was he rather disappointed when his Yohji-centered nightmares chose not to appear at night?

"He asks for you," Omi said one night when colliding with Aya in the kitchen. "He asks how you are..."

Pangs of something exploded in Aya's chest when he heard it. He felt a blush stain his cheeks and looked away. Didn't answer. Didn't quite know what to say.

"How is he?" He replied at last. Politeness was always good.

Omi's face lit up in a smile,

"He is good. Almost the same old. "

"...Good!" Aya grunted and rinsed his plate in the sink. Wasn't hungry anymore. Not at all...

"Why don't you, come with us next time?" Omi asked innocently. "I'm sure it would cheer him up to see you."

Aya shot him a icy glare, one that under normal circumstances would've made the boy shut up. When Yohji was concerned however, the ice tactic didn't seem to work;

"He hasn't asked yet why you haven't come," Omi continued, seemingly oblivious to Aya's annoyance. "But he's said he'd like to talk to you. I guess it has something to do with the day he almost died..." Omi's big, blue eyes met Aya's nervously. "You were with him Aya-kun, how was he?"

Aya felt himself pale under the examining stare. What was he asking? How he was, how he was how? In bed? Was he contemplating scheduling the next round for himself?!

"Was he very afraid?" Omi continued. "I can see that he might find it embarrassing now, if he cracked up or something...but you're not making it easier for him by refusing to see him..." the chibi's chatter continued and Aya felt like the biggest fool alive.

"He didn't!" He interrupted at last.

"What?" Omi's' big eyes fastened on his.

"He didn't crack up or...show fear. He was brave..." Aya trailed off. His voice had suddenly become unfamiliar. Thick with something he didn't want to comprehend.

"Oh!" Omi said and just stood there, plate and tea-cup in hands. His carefully constructed assumptions had suddenly fallen apart. Didn't happen to Omi very often, always left him at loss.

Aya turned his back at him and left. Needed to be alone. Alone and free to – not - think...

*

Eventually the day arrived, unavoidable in the end. Aya's new determined focus in the flower shop was no more as he restlessly moved around in the shop, absentmindedly rearranging roses and tulips, nervously watching the clock. Ken had taken his car to pick him up. Yohji had insisted on driving home himself. Aya wondered how wise that was, it wasn't that long since he'd been in surgery, had the lifeless bomb removed from his head...But then again, Aya hadn't been to see him, had he? So who was he anyway to make guesses about his condition...

He seemed more than ok though, when he came crashing through the door like a minor earthquake, making the bell above the door spin on it's hook.

"Home, sweet home!" he burst out, looking all fabulous as usual in a blue mid- thigh jacket and a green-blue scarf draped over it, skin tight, black jeans and sunglasses back on top of his head.

"Omi!" He smiled broadly and embraced the young man who came running down the stairs and into the shop. Gave him a long bear hug before letting him go.

"Aya.." his smile faded when he saw him. Green eyes stared at him measuring over the sunflowers. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue while waiting for an answer.

"W-welcome home, Yohji." Aya cleared his voice and broke off the stare. Busied his hands with counting up the bills. His throat felt thick and his heart pounded hard and almost painfully in his chest. He registered that Omi was looking at him. A strange look, like he'd done something wrong. What did he expect him to do? Fall around the blond's neck like a tie? Like he had done? Nope, wasn't exactly Aya's style.

Smile perhaps...maybe he expected him to smile, show some enthusiasm...But before he could summon the will to do so; flash the newly arrived some white, the moment had already passed.

"Ah! It's good to be home!" Yohji stretched and moved pass him, leading the way for Ken with his bags and with Omi as chattering sidekick. He could hear them move upstairs. The door to Yohji's room opened.

" h! This place really need some air," he heard Yohji's voice.

" Tea, Yohji-kun? " Omi clattered with cups in the kitchen.

Yohji again: " Thank you, Ken...You're the best portiere ever!"

Ken's laughter; unusually happy and carefree.

Aya felt utterly alone. A part of him felt a surging need to go upstairs and join them, *him*. Another part of him knew how wrong that would be. How wrong the mere thought of it was. The kind of thoughts Aya Fuijimya couldn't afford...and didn't want them either...and… his thoughts stopped there, before falling over the edge, down in the pit of emotions and regrets tied to Yohji Kudou and what he had started to think of as the unfortunate basement incident. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat again, began to prepare the shop for closing. Went through the ritual mechanically, trying to block out the happy chat from upstairs, the dark hum of Yohji's voice...

After closing he walked the stairs with the steps of an old man. Suddenly he felt tired and drained. Insecure and angry with himself for being so. He was a killer, his only purpose; revenge. This whole situation was silly beyond belief. He passed the open door to the kitchen, dared a quick glance inside and paused. They were all there, hands folded around mugs of steaming tea from the bright, red pot on the table. Omi had apparently allowed Yohji to smoke in there for once, - something he did with pleasure it seemed, the ash tray was already half-full.

He had taken off his jacket and sat there in a black tank, Aya was about to continue when he saw the faded red marks on his fine tanned shoulders. Imprints of fingernails. Aya reddened. How could he show them off like that?

Yohji looked up then. Caught Aya's gaze across the room.

"Aya!" He smiled. " Come and join us, flower-boy!"

Aya's blush increased, but for reasons he couldn't quite figure, he did as he was bid and entered the room. After all it would seem strange not to.

"Have some tea," Omi offered and Aya nodded silently, grabbed his orange mug from the bench and managed to take the pot from the table without shaking visibly or spilling anything.

"So...how have you been, Aya?" Yohji measured him with serious eyes that quickly killed off Aya's hope that the unfortunate basement incident was something he wouldn't have to deal with...Yohji's eyes told him there would indeed, be dealing.

"Fine," he said in a strangely pitched voice. Tried to calm his heart, make it pound a little slower.

"Good," Yohji's long fingers caressed the smooth surface of the blue mug in front of him. "Busy days at the shop? Omi told me you've been taking my shifts..."

"Yes, they have been busy..." Was it just him or was the air in there chokingly thick and warm. He wondered if the blush in his cheeks had faded at all or if they still were embarrassingly red. He sat down on the bench, al little bit apart from them. There, but not under any obligation to participate in the conversation. Yohji finally took his eyes off him. It felt like a relief…and a loss...

"More exciting than the hospital I'm sure!" he said in his usual joking voice. "Give me roses to sedatives any day!"

Omi and Ken giggled happily and Aya was free to breathe.

He caught himself wishing Yohji less beautiful. Less captivating...That his earrings wouldn't twinkle in the light, his eyes wouldn't be so clear and pure green. That his own eyes would stop wandering to Yohji's shoulders, to the red moons printed there. His own passion written on Yohji's body. He'd carried Aya with him, like he had carried Yohji's marks. The thought awoke thrilling excitement, and utter, shameful despair. He wondered what Yohji would say to him. Make excuses? Apologize? Be ashamed? He remembered last night nightmare where he had re-lived the unfortunate basement incident and Yohji suddenly, still while rocking his hips, had whispered into his ear:

"I hope you don't think it means anything....it's just because I'm going soon. I need to fuck up some courage." Then his face had twisted in to a marble mask; white and cracked: "I'm dying you know, I'd like to take you with me..." Then Aya had awakened as usual sitting in his bed, sweating and panting with another rock hard erection to ignore.

Reality would show soon though he thought when noticing Yohji's quick glances in his direction. The way he wet his lips nervously while looking at him. Yohji wasn't stupid. He'd probably figured talking was the best way out of the mess, with the two of them working together and all...

With a deep sigh Aya put his empty mug in the sink. "I'm tired," he said. "I'm going outside for a bit, then to bed..."

"Good night then Aya, sleep well!" Omi beamed and Ken nodded agreeing, all smiles and happiness while Aya was going to his doom, or so it felt.

*

He didn't have to wait long before the door opened and Yohji joined him outside the shop. As expected the blond had taken his hint –

What he didn't expect was the arm that came to rest around his waist. The head that came to lean on his shoulder from behind.

"I've missed you, baby, " Yohji said softly.

Aya stiffened and froze. His arms still crossed in front of his chest. A chest that felt incredibly tight. He desperately searched to find his voice, but it seemed to be gone and...

"Why didn't you come and see me at the hospital?" He certainly wasted no time on polite chit-chat, did he? Straight to the point, and his hand began to stroke his side, slowly up and down.

Aya finally managed to take a deep breath;

"I wont be your convenient house-fuck, Yohji! ...I'm not your whore!" It sounded harsher than intended. More aggressive than he felt.

The hand disappeared, so did the head; the soft brush of blond silk on his cheek. When he spoke again his voice was cooler. Mockingly amused...almost -hurt.

"So that you won’t," he said slowly. " ...What do you want then, Aya?"

Aya stared out in the dim night. Tried to clear his thoughts. A cat passed in front of them, eyes glowing yellow in the light from their windows.

"Nothing," he said at last. Stubbornly refusing to look at the other.

He heard Yohji sigh beside him.

"I knew it was too good to be true..." The blond said and shifted slightly beside him. Aya caught sight of his hand from the crook of his eye. It was moving towards his face and he stepped back. Left the fingers wavering in mid-air before falling back to Yohji's side.

The tall assassin turned and left then. "Thank you anyway," he said lowly. Pausing before reaching for the door. "Thanks for what you did for me..."

"You're welcome," Aya said automatically, his thoughts drifting far away. Blocking out the sorrow, avoiding the regret.



Next

Back