Best Intentions

Title: Best Intentions, Part 2
Author: Genuinelie(s)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.

*****

Omi stared at Ran as he typed up the order. The man was lost in his own world, fixing a complex flower arrangement, purple and blue mixed with vibrant green ferns and delicate, wispy stalks.

They had gone to their separate beds the night before, at Ran's suggestion. He might have been thinking Omi needed his rest after the mission, but sleeping alone was not the way to give it to him.

Ran had just been humoring him.

Saw how tortured Omi was by his feelings, seeing through his mask to a crush he hadn't even been aware of, not really, and being Ran he saw the quickest way to mollify and make sure their team stayed whole and operational.

Nothing had been different in the way they'd said goodnight.

Nothing had been different in the way they had eaten breakfast.

Ran looked up, face unreadable, Omi looked down and away with the pretense of searching among the packages on the floor. Finding one that needed delivery, he called, "I'm going out to do orders. Yohji's on shift in a half-hour, but I think he's still in bed so you can get Ken-kun to wake him up for you when he comes down."

Like everything was usual. He left the shop without looking to see if Ran had heard.

*****

He'd only had one order. He stopped by Sakura's house with the other package he carried, an arrangement of apologies and lasting friendship. The girl frowned at him. Omi was taken aback. He wasn't used to such hostility from anyone but targets, his teammates and his family, however dead they were now.

"I-" he stuttered, then thrust the box at her. "Flowers. For you. I'm really sorry Sakura, I know Ran didn't walk you home from the movies. It wasn't his fault. We -"

"You better not say you got a mission," the girl said darkly.

It was what he had been about to say. Omi closed his mouth and looked uncomfortable. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry. It's all my fault, Miss Sakura."

She sighed, and took the box. "He told me once he didn't deserve to be loved. I didn't understand, then I found out about - I mean, about your jobs. And I thought that was ok, because he's a good person." She caught his eyes. "And it is ok. All of you mean a lot to me, Omi. But I know it was you who was pushing him to go out with me all those times, and it wasn't really fair to either of us because I started to think - to believe -"

"I'm sorry," Omi said softly.

She nodded. She wasn't crying, but her face was slightly flushed, her lips thinned out. She lifted the box slightly. "Thank you," she said.

Omi left. He understood he hadn't been forgiven, but at least Ran was.

*****

Ken and Yohji were on shift in the shop. Omi avoided their eyes when he entered, until Yohji's hand fell lightly on his shoulder. He flinched, surprised.

"Ran went out," Yohji supplied. He was in P.I. mode, his eyes serious behind the glasses.

"It's not his shift," Omi responded.

"How's the leg?"

"Fine. What do you want, Yohji? Did Ran say something?"

From the way Ken shifted behind the counter and studiously - smartly - stayed out of the conversation, Omi gathered he had hit it on the head. "What did he say?"

"That you went to make deliveries. He said you'd seemed upset."

Really, Ran, he seemed upset? Omi pursed his lips. The man had no right to say anything to the others about him. He had been doing fine. He hadn't even really known how he felt until Ran thrust his tongue into his mouth. He was a professional, this wouldn't get in the way of missions, but it was going to make living and working at the Koneko hell from there on out.

"A little bit. He left you two to take Sakura home, thanks for leaving me there, by the way."

"Ran was supposed to drive you home!" Ken suddenly interjected, finally looking up and then looking very sorry he had done so.

Yohji removed his hand and pushed his glasses down so he could see Omi better. "He left you there?"

Omi shook his head. "It wasn't like that. I left. But you two ditched me."

"You're upset about that?"

"He was on a date! Sakura probably felt like she had done something wrong!" Omi glared at them.

"It's your own fault!" Ken said, "he didn't even want to be there."

Omi frowned. "Well, that may be, but then he shouldn't have gone at all."

"He should have gotten over his royal self and gone with you, instead of us." Ken muttered.

"What?!" Omi screeched.

They knew.

How did they know?

Yohji was nodding. Ken was too far away, so Yohji would do.

Omi took a swing.

Yohji caught it in his fist, green eyes wide with shock. "Chibi! Watch it!"

"Hey!"

The three assassins spun. Ran stood in the doorway, face openly bewildered. It soon dropped into an expression of hard, raw anger.

He wasn't looking at Omi. Yohji had spun him around so that he was incapacitated, taller frame caging his arms.

"Let him go," Ran said.

"It's okay, Yohji-kun," Omi overrode Ran, even as Yohji stepped back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." He couldn't even lie to them about his reasons.

"It's ok, chibi." Yohji said, looking back and forth between them. "Aya, what the hell did you -"

"Stay out of this!" Omi snapped. "Abyssinian, can I speak with you? In the mission room?"

Ken flinched, Yohji's face hardened and Ran narrowed his eyes. It wasn't often, if ever, that Omi pulled rank.

"All right, Omi." It was strangely soft. He had expected Aya to have snapped at him. Instead, his voice was almost soothing.

Condescending. Omi decided.

He spun on his heel.

"What's going on?" Ran asked before they got to the bottom of the steps.

Omi swung around and grabbed Ran by his shoulders. He felt the man tense, and his arm go automatically to his waist before he caught himself. Reaching for the sword that wasn't there.

Omi pressed him against the computer table and forced his lips on Ran's. Pressed his hips into Ran's, ground them together. Neither were hard.

Ran took it.

They didn't close their eyes. Omi stepped back, panting, and glared at him. "Right, Ran? I'm not a kid. You can't control me with this. You don't have to humor me, believe me, I can take it. Whatever you think you understand about me, it's not affecting missions and it's my problem to deal with, not yours."

Ran looked torn between confusion and anger. He was still braced against the desk, arms behind him, black tee stretched tight across his chest. It rose and fell erratically with his breath. "What are you talking about?"

"Last night. This morning. You confronted me last night because you thought I was going to be a problem, right? You think I'm just a kid that you can manipulate like that? Like it will be enough?" Omi hated the sound of his voice.

Ran was looking lost. It shocked Omi how young he looked.

"I never thought of you as a kid." Ran said.

"What about when you met me? I know it must be hard for you to see me as anything but. Don't lie."

"I don't remember meeting you," Ran said, softly. He curled forward, off the desk, hands on his knees. His red bangs shadowed his face.

"What?" Omi asked.

Ran straightened,looking like he had just forced his expression back into place. "I don't remember much of those years."

Oh.

Oh.

"When did we meet, then?" Omi asked softly.

"Bits and pieces here and there. I remember you trying to know me when no one else wanted to. I remember you asking me who you were. I remember that you cared that Aya was taken -"

Ran was stiff, but Omi could see the faint tremor in his frame. Deep purple driving into the abyss of the blue.

Omi's eyes were wet again, suddenly overwhelmed by his actions. "I'm sorry," he said.

It didn't seem like enough.

Ran stayed frozen, uncertainty playing on his face. Omi had never seen him so unsure of himself. He didn't like it, and it made him feel sick to know that he was the reason.

"I told you I loved you last night," Omi said softly. "I meant it."

Ran stepped forward and grabbed him, enveloping him. His body was still tense despite what Omi had said, as if he were afraid of rejection. They stood together awkwardly.

Omi allowed it for a moment, then used his weight to throw the other man off-balance. Ran stumbled and Omi pushed him to the couch, straddling him. Ran let out a noise of surprise, taken off-guard. Omi grabbed his wrists, guiding them above his head.

"This is what it means." Omi said softly. "It's not a game. I'm not a child, and I'm not looking for a child's relationship. I haven't had good luck with my fathers or older brothers, and I'm not looking for a replacement."

Ran stayed silent, watching him, letting him call the shots. Rich red hair fanned out against he gray of the couch, framing his pale face. The chambered steel of his muscle and lines of his jaw reminded Omi this was still Aya.

Omi rocked forward. Ran's hips rose to meet him. Slow, questing. Still unsure how this would go.

It was fluctuating, but still balanced, the power between them.

Omi leaned over and seized Ran's mouth. Ran thrust his tongue through his lips even as the hacker's hands slid down his torso, easily freeing the catch on the other man's black pants. He dragged his fingers up the lines of his hipbones and felt the his breath hitch in the skin beneath his legs.

Ran's hands tangled in the choppy brown locks of Omi's hair. He writhed beneath. Omi slid down almost unconsciously to lay flush against Ran, legs still spread on the outside. Their feet tangled together, thigh muscles and skin burning through their clothes. Hips rocked frantically, Ran's hard length pressing up to meet Omi's own.

"This is what it means," Omi breathed against his ear.

Ran didn't answer, but lifted his hips. Omi pulled away enough to drag Ran's pants down to his knees, even as the redhead did the same for him, supple fingers dragging against his skin. Ran spread his hands and ran them back up Omi's bare thighs, the barest hint of fingernails scraping against his skin.

Omi drew in a shuddering breath.

Ran's lips were parted, pale skin flushed, eyes dilated and nearly black. He looked feral, and almost completely at Omi's mercy.

"If you're going to do this," Ran growled, "Then do it."

"I-" Omi looked around, logic suddenly kicking in, as well as some nerves. "I don't have anything -"

Ran raised his head, eyes narrowed, then dropped his head back against the couch and suddenly chuckled, belly moving against Omi's skin. "Kudoh keeps it beneath the chair by the stairway."

Omi's eyes widened. Ew. "How do you know that?"

Ran's face darkened. "He isn't as smooth as he thinks,"

Omi suppressed a grin.

"We could do it another way," the man beneath him suggested.

Omi scrambled for the lube.

Ran was freeing himself of his shirt when he returned. Omi's breath caught, watching Ran's stomach ripple, cream set in sharp relief by the black fabric. He looked up to find Ran watching him, eyes soft.

"Come on," he prompted.

Omi hesitated. "I haven't done this before."

Ran kept his eyes on him, unembarrassed. "Neither have I."

His eyes widened.

"Omi -" Ran warned, then gave a mock-sigh and reached up to grab him, tugging on his arm. With one smooth movement they were both on the floor, Ran straddling his hips, smiling down at him.

Slowly, he slid the tube from Omi's fingers, not breaking eye contact. A moment later smooth fingers gripped Omi's cock. He thrust upward involuntarily.

"Okay?" Ran asked.

"Okay," Omi agreed, a little breathlessly, then used a smooth thrust of his hips to throw Ran off-balance. Ran rolled to the side and Omi scrambled atop him, grinning as they switched positions yet again.

Ran handed him the lube.

Omi began riding him, dragging their erections together even as he slicked his fingers. Ran reached up to cup his head, stroking his jawline almost subconsciously, breathing quick and short.

Omi's breath caught. To have Aya -Ran - Abyssinian under him like this -

Wanting him -

His thoughts derailed. A firm hand gripped his cock, stroking with an expertise that drew a whimper from his throat. "Ah-"

Ran's other hand caught Omi's, guiding it between their bodies.

Oh, that's right -

Down -

Omi found his hand pressed between warm heat, and steeling himself he wiggled a finger in.

The hand around his length squeezed reflexively then stilled, the entirety of Ran's body tensing up.

"It's ok, it's ok -" he whispered. Not that he knew.

But Ran nodded and thrust on his finger, making Omi gasp.

"More -" Ran growled.

He pushed in another, then hooked them.

Ran cried out, making Omi jump in surprise.

"Again - Omi, that felt -"

Experimentally, he tried it again. Ran writhed, hand job completely forgotten. Omi grinned, not minding, then withdrew his fingers.

Ran actually whimpered, then surged up to catch Omi's mouth. "Now," he breathed.

He parted his legs, tilting his hips up.

Omi thrust in.

Ran dug his fingers into Omi's back, a sound that wasn't pleasure keening past his lips. His nails dug painfully into Omi's skin.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Omi tried pulling out, carefully but frantically, but Ran, eyes open, watching him, latched his arms around his waist, keeping him buried inside of him.

"Move, Omi." Ran commanded.

Not that Omi could do anything but. Ran was impaling himself, establishing a rhythm without him. It was past Omi's control, his hips shoving automatically into the other man's slick heat. He angled his hips until Ran was gasping in time, aiming for the spot that he had liked before. His mind completely enveloped in sensation, he managed at least to retain some control, pushing his hand between their bodies to make a ring around Ran's cock, stroking him until Ran's eyes were completely dilated, unseeing as he came, shuddering around Omi until Omi's mind lost all thought, his lips whispering words he wasn't aware of. Wet heat dripped down there stomaches as Ran pulled him down into a fierce kiss.

Slowly he pulled out. Both of them sighed at the loss of sensation.

Omi dropped down on top of Ran, forehead falling against his chest. Ran drew his fingers soothingly through his hair. Hot breath against the top of his head, hearts creating a quick, erratic drumbeat against their skin.

The mission room was silent.

"Can you -" Omi said finally. "I mean, next time, can you try? I want to feel -"

Ran "hn'd" against him.

Omi relaxed. There would be a "next time."

Finally Ran spoke. His voice was almost too quiet to hear.

"I feel the same," he said.

Omi looked up. Ran's eyes were closed, head tilted back. Omi pressed a kiss against his Adam's apple.

Ran smiled. He opened one eye, looking for all the world like a cat. His hair was mussed beyond repair, face flushed, lips wet.

Omi grinned at him. "Okay, Ran," he said.

It would be okay.

*******