What Naughty Boys Get For Christmas

A/N: Here\'s where the minor warning comes in. Pairing for this part is Yohji/Omi.

--

Other than Momoe-san, Aya was alone in the shop when Omi returned from school. It was the last day before winter break and he was relieved at the thought of having a couple of weeks where he wouldn\'t have to worry about balancing school, computer club, the shop and his work for Weiss.

Aya didn\'t realize Omi was watching when he lifted one of the buckets of flowers and winced. Omi frowned at the stiffness of Aya\'s movement; they hadn\'t had a mission the night before, so Omi couldn\'t think of a reason for Aya to be in pain. Surprisingly, when Aya carefully set the flowers down and caught sight of Omi his cheeks reddened in a faint flush.

“Aya-kun?” Omi said quietly, “Where\'s Yohji-kun? Isn\'t he supposed to be helping you here today?”

“I don\'t know where he went,” Aya replied, the blush spreading at the mention of Yohji\'s name. He met Omi\'s eyes for just a moment before looking away with studied indifference.

“Well, then I\'ll be down to take over for you as soon as I change, okay?” Omi crossed the shop as he spoke, glancing back once at Aya, who nodded shortly, before he opened the door that led to the rooms upstairs.

Once out of the shop, Omi realized just how dark it was. The bright lights in the display area had made him forget that this was the shortest day of the year and the sun was long gone from the sky. He ignored the lack of light, slipped off his shoes and picked them up, then made his way up the stairs by memory, stepping over the creaky step at the top out of habit.

He had expected to see light under the crack of Yohji\'s door, to hear music as the resident playboy ignored his duties in the shop in favor of other entertainment. The room was dark and quiet, the door cracked open slightly, when Omi passed by.

He opened his own door, dropping his shoes beside it with a dull thump and reaching for the light switch as he shrugged off his schoolbag.

“Don\'t,” Yohji\'s voice carried softly in the stillness, Omi\'s fingers freezing on the switch and his breath catching in startlement.

“Y-Yohji-kun, you scared me,” Omi said with a nervous little laugh. “What are you doing in my room in the dark?”

Rather than an answer, Omi heard the soft click of Yohji\'s lighter and a point of light illuminated the dark. Yohji wasn\'t lighting a cigarette, as Omi would have expected. Instead, he applied the flame to the wicks of several candles, scattered on the windowsill and the small table beside Omi\'s bed.

Now Omi could make out Yohji\'s shadowed figure against the larger bulk of his bed and he felt his mouth drop open in surprise. The candlelight reflected on red leather, etched darker lines around the muscles bared by the cropped shirt adored with fluff. The tail of the Santa hat on Yohji\'s head lay against one cheek, just below a glittering green eye. One of Yohji\'s hands was propped under his chin, the other stretched out down his side.

“I was waiting for you,” Yohji finally said, his voice husky and his lips curling in the sort of smile that made Omi\'s blood run alternately hot and cold.

Omi shivered, his back pressing against the door and forcing it closed with a click that was loud in the quiet. “Waiting for me?” Omi forced the question out over the dryness of his tongue, sounding breathless.

“Come here, bishounen,” Yohji raised the hand from his side and beckoned, pushing himself up to a sitting position on the bed. Omi hesitated and Yohji held his hand there, open and waiting. When Omi started to walk toward him, Yohji\'s smile changed. It didn\'t lose its predatory edge, but somehow it was softer now, sweeter.

His fingers trembled when he slipped them into Yohji\'s firm grasp, his pulse speeding under the brush of Yohji\'s fingertips on the inside of his wrist. He was nervous, but not sure why. This was Yohji, after all, his teammate. He trusted the older man with his life, Yohji would never hurt him. Yohji was probably just teasing him, looking for compliments on his twist on seasonal attire before going out for the night. Apparently, his thoughts were evident on his face; Yohji\'s expression turned to amusement and he shook his head as he tugged Omi closer to the side of the bed.

“No need to be nervous, now. That\'s right, you can trust me not to hurt you,” Yohji rose to his knees and leaned close, his last words spoken against the skin of Omi\'s cheek. “Even naughty boys deserve nice presents for Christmas.”

Omi gasped softly at the warmth of Yohji\'s lips when they pressed against his own. Slowly, Yohji wrapped his free arm around Omi\'s back, coaxing the younger boy down onto the bed with him, settling himself with legs folded and Omi seated on one knee. He shifted his hand, lacing his fingers between Omi\'s, thumb brushing back and forth across Omi\'s wrist.

The gentle, sensual assault of Yohji\'s lips made Omi shiver. His mouth opened on a soft sigh, his body relaxing against the hard planes of Yohji\'s. Omi traced the sharp line of Yohji\'s jaw with a feather-light touch, trailing down the side of Yohji\'s neck and feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the faint noise Yohji made, almost a purr.

Yohji\'s tongue slid slowly across Omi\'s upper lip, and though a part of Omi insisted that he should find it strange to be kissed like this by a man, he couldn\'t help but take Yohji\'s invitation. His tongue followed Yohji\'s as it retreated, tasting cigarettes and alcohol and some dark sweetness that he couldn\'t identify.

His pulse was loud in his ears over the sound of their breathing, each endless second and stroke of moist flesh drawing Omi\'s need tighter until he thought he would explode just from this kiss. Yohji freed his hand from Omi\'s, reaching up to cup Omi\'s face between his palms, brushing across flushed skin. His lips broke away from Omi\'s, and he placed a delicate kiss on each of Omi\'s closed eyelids.

One of Yohji\'s hands curled around the back of Omi\'s neck, the other sifting through the fine blond hair at Omi\'s temple. His mouth felt hot enough to burn when it pressed against the the point where Omi\'s pulse beat just below the skin on the side of his neck. He inhaled, the sweet, clear scent of Omi filling his head as he nipped lightly at the softness that lay under his lips.

A shudder wracked Omi, and his back arched, pressing him closer to Yohji. Omi\'s hands rested on Yohji\'s chest, and he could feel the hard thump of Yohji\'s heart under his right palm. He rubbed slow circles over the soft fabric as Yohji tasted the skin across his collarbone.

When Yohji\'s hands slipped beneath his shirt, Omi almost flinched. Compared to his own heat, Yohji\'s hands were cold and when his fingers found Omi\'s nipples, Omi gave voice to a sharp little whimper. Yohji chuckled, pulling back long enough to drag Omi\'s shirt over the younger boy\'s head and toss it aside.

Omi\'s expression started to turn guarded and shy, but Yohji didn\'t leave him time to act on his self-conscious feelings. Bending, he slicked his tongue across one of Omi\'s nipples, causing Omi to moan in startled pleasure.

Carefully, Yohji eased Omi down onto the bed, laying him out on his back. Rising to his knees beside Omi, Yohji stripped off his own shirt, the hat falling with it, forgotten. Omi\'s eyes roved the bare skin of Yohji\'s chest, and Yohji felt his breath quicken in response. None of his women had ever looked at him with such naked admiration. Omi had none of their coyness, and he lacked Aya\'s cold edge as well.

Yohji lowered himself, stretching out over Omi\'s body, taking most of his weight on his elbows and knees to avoid putting too much pressure on the slight figure beneath him. The position called attention to the difference in their sizes, the lesser breadth of Omi\'s shoulders and waist. Yohji\'s hips canted downward without his willful direction, pressing his erection against Omi\'s thigh. He caught a ragged moan in his throat when Omi\'s eyes widened nervously beneath the dark fringe of his lashes.

“Shh.” Yohji shook his head before Omi could get words between his parted lips. His hair fell down, veiling them with deeper shadows as he lowered his face toward Omi\'s. “Trust me,” he whispered against Omi\'s mouth, letting their eyes lock for a long moment.

Omi nodded slightly, eyelids sliding closed over irises that had become black pools Yohji thought he could drown in. He could feel Omi hard against his stomach, taste the faint edge of desperate want when his tongue dipped into Omi\'s mouth.

He feathered light kisses down Omi\'s chest, lingering over each point until Omi was making breathless, incoherent pleading sounds. When Yohji unfastened Omi\'s pants and began to tug them down over slim hips, Omi arched his back, lower lip caught between his teeth.

Yohji settled himself between Omi\'s legs, grunting a soft curse as his trapped prick throbbed almost painfully. Omi looked at him curiously when he pushed himself upright again, and Yohji offered a pained smile.

“A little tight,” he said softly by way of explanation, quickly beginning to peel the tight leather off his hips and down his legs. Omi laughed, and Yohji turned an arch look on him, one brow raised as he dropped the pants over the edge of the bed. His urgency faded, a little, with the release of the pressure. “Find that funny, bishounen?”

A growl of mock-outrage thrummed against Omi\'s lips when Yohji swooped down on him and kissed him. Omi gasped, this kiss was rougher than before, and now they were pressed skin to skin. The sensation made Omi marvelously dizzy, and he eagerly matched the hard, flickering strokes of Yohji\'s tongue.

Before he realized what was happening, Yohji had slid quickly down the length of his body. He lay half on his side between Omi\'s legs, one draped over his shoulder, his hand running back and forth across Omi\'s stomach, the other hand firmly on Omi\'s inner thigh. The pillows behind Omi\'s back propped him up just enough to give him a clear view of the dangerous grin Yohji wore.

Yohji turned his head, running his tongue along the soft skin of the thigh that rested on his shoulder. Omi trembled under the teasing touch, held still by Yohji\'s hands. “Ah, beautiful Omi,” Yohji sighed, warm breath driving another tremor down Omi\'s limbs.

With a final heavy-lidded, smug look at Omi\'s face, Yohji turned his eyes to the hard cock that demanded his attention. He lowered his head, sliding his lips down the length as far as he could without gagging, tongue pressed to the base of Omi\'s prick as he sucked the firm flesh. Omi gave a sharp, wordless cry, muscles flexing, tense.

Yohji raised his head, “My name, Omi. Let me hear it,” he breathed before returning to the task at hand. This time, when he lowered his lips to Omi\'s cock he felt fingers curl tightly in his hair and heard the sound of his name spilling out of the bishounen\'s parted lips amidst the gasps and sighs.

The hand on Omi\'s thigh disappeared, and Omi opened his eyes, hardly able to focus through the haze of pleasure that filmed his sight. While Yohji licked and sucked Omi\'s cock, his stroked his own, the scene igniting passions in Omi that he didn\'t even know existed.

“Ah! Yohji!” Omi felt his hips buck upward, then lost track of everything except the splintering rush of bliss that flamed along his nerves as he came.

Omi drew a shuddering breath when he felt the bed move as Yohji climbed up to lay beside him. He opened his eyes in time to see Yohji lick his lips and offer Omi a self-satisfied smile. His hand still lazily stroked his cock as he bestowed a gentle kiss on Omi\'s lips.

Yohji was faintly surprised when Omi pushed him away, leaning up on one elbow. Omi buried his face in Yohji\'s shoulder, licking the sweat from Yohji\'s skin. His hand brushed across the back of Yohji\'s, tentative at first, but then he pushed his hand beneath Yohji\'s and curled his palm around velvet-soft skin.

It only took a moment before the combined strokes of their hands brought Yohji to the edge. He gasped Omi\'s name, strands of the bishounen\'s hair tickling his lips and cheek as he pressed his face against the top of Omi\'s head.

Together, they collapsed down onto the bed, content for a moment to lay there and catch their breath. Chill began to settle into sweat-damp skin, and Yohji shifted Omi\'s body and then his own to drag down the covers. The blankets tucked tight around them, Omi rested his head on Yohji\'s shoulder, giving a content sigh as he relaxed into boneless lethargy.

He stiffened suddenly, the sound the door at the base of the stairs slamming startling them both. Omi turned a guilty look toward Yohji, eyes wide with dismay.

“I told Aya that I\'d come down and relieve him,” he said, glancing at the bedside clock and realizing that the shop was closed now. “He looked awfully tired and sore.”

“Ah, don\'t worry about it, bishounen,” Yohji replied with a roguish grin and a wink. “He\'ll get over it, and you deserve to enjoy your Christmas present.”

“Aa,” Omi agreed sleepily, again curling up close beside Yohji, stifling a yawn behind his hand. “Thank you, Yohji-kun.”

“Merry Christmas, Omi,” Yohji\'s arm curved protectively around Omi\'s shoulders and he let the warmth of Omi\'s body pull him down into slumber.