Switchblade Serenade

Author\'s note: BIG smut warning here. If you don\'t want to see Aya and Yohji go at it like rabid bunnies, I suggest leaving now! Thank you for your time and for reading this fic. ::holds out hand in a begging gesture:: Reviews always stimulate my muses, so if you want more, let me hear about it!







TEARS OF FIRE pt 4





Tears of fire;

From a heart so cold.

Tears of fire;

Feel my flesh explode.

Tears of fire;

Burn into my soul.

I could never let you go.





Aya paced the stifling confines of his room. His guilt destroyed what serenity he used to find in the Spartan, overly neat space. His guilt and the recurring dreams of what happened in the shower two days ago. He hadn’t found the courage to face Yohji and even if he had, Omi wasn’t letting him anywhere near the injured man without a chaperone. The little blonde even went so far as to post himself in front of Yohji’s door at night, notebook ensconced firmly in his lap with a cord trailing into his bedroom so that he didn’t wear the battery down. Aya had heard him muttering something to the effect of ‘Thank the gods for wireless internet access.’



Aya threw himself onto the extra-firm surface of his bed, his body nearly bouncing off the bed with the force that he landed. There had to be some way for him to sneak into Yohji’s room without Omi finding out. The only way that he could find to get in and out without being observed or thrown out would be to drug the chibi and then risk his wrath; or more importantly, Ken’s rage. Aya stared out the window, waiting for inspiration to knock him over. A house sparrow landed on the ledge below the windowpane and Abyssinian took over his thoughts. He knew – now - how to get to his target.



The ledges on the building were almost as wide as his foot and if he were careful, he could transverse the length of the structure and shinny down the drainpipe in order to reach the floor where the object of his obsession resided. And Omi would never know that he had been anywhere near the golden god that haunted his dreams. All four of them had, at one point or the other, done something like this to reach one or more of the marks for Kritiker. As Omi was so fond of saying, this would be a piece of cake. All he had to do was wait for night to fall.



During the time that he waited, he prepared for every eventuality and placed the items that he would and could need into the pockets of his trench coat. He couldn’t carry his katana, it would be too obvious and hard to explain away if, by some chance, he were caught. The whole project would be hard to rationalize if he made some error and Omi found out about it. There were times that he felt like the chibi was running the team from the shadows and that he, Aya, stood in as a figurehead because no one would believe that a seventeen year old kid could truly manage things the way he did.



He went back to pacing as the sun began to set and the shadows in his room grew longer and murkier. He didn’t worry about turning on any lights; he knew where everything lay situated and since he took the time to tidy things up after he did anything there weren’t piles of stuff scattered about the room. It was exactly eleven steps to the wall and eleven back to the bed. He passed the time by counting how many times he crossed that path. Light filtered in from the street and a full moon shone in on him, easing his passage. It would be a good night for the maneuvers he had planned.



He walked back and forth for hours, allowing the household to settle in for sleep. Every so often he would walk out his door and down to where the stairs were, listening for the clack of fingers on the keyboard and for the low monotone hum that accompanied the little blonde’s used of the computer. When the clacks slowed down to clicks and the humming stopped for long periods of time, he knew that it would be safe to start the operation.



He slipped back into the twilight gloom of his room and allowed a few minutes for his eyes to truly adjust to the low light and then he carefully slipped the screen from the window and crawled out onto the ledge. The light pollution from the street lamps aided him in his quest, along with the silvering gleam of the moon. But even with the light that his eyes took in, things were difficult on the shelf. Pebbles cast their minute shadows and in the gloaming it was hard to tell if things were what they seemed or not. About the third time he tripped over a sleeping pigeon, he cursed all feathered fowl and then began stretching one foot out to push any obstacle out of his way. There would be a line of dead or dying sky rats come sunrise. At least the local cats would be well fed.



He finally reached the drainpipe and stopped to catch his breath. The way things were going at this point, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if the damned gutter pulled free as he climbed down it. He sighed heavily and then began his descent. He reached Yohji’s window without any other problems and carefully touched the screen, making sure that the window remained open. It wouldn’t have shocked him to find that the team sexpot had closed it to keep the world at bay. Finding it still open, he carefully slipped a butterfly knife out of his left pocket, flipped it open and slit the screen around three edges, leaving it to flap in the night breeze. With as much stealth as he could muster, he slipped into the room, crouching on the floor in front of the casement to allow his eyes to adjust to the darker night in the room.





* * * * * *





Yohji woke from a dream with a start. Something had set his defenses off and he unconsciously reached for the watch that he no longer wore, but left sitting on the stand next to his monstrosity of a bed. The sound of steel against the fabric of the screening grated on his ears. Someone had just broken into his room and he had a pretty good idea of whom it might be. Or, better yet, the two someones that it could be. Since sneakiness didn’t fit into Schuldig’s style it would have to be the other redhead, the one who tried to rape him not so long ago.



For two whole days he had sat in his room, thinking about what had happened in the shower. Perhaps Aya was right and he deserved everything that had happened to him. But then again, the icy man could be wrong if these things were just fate and had nothing to do with karma. Or they could have been just coincidences and slowly things would return to normal.



The soft slither of a body sliding to the floor brought every one of his senses to alert. He might not be able to see, but his hearing had become much keener than it had been before the accident. He subconsciously pulled out enough of the strong, flexible wire to secure whomever had come into his room.



Omi must be asleep, since the chibi hadn’t burst through the door to protect him. With a barely disguised snarl, he slipped off the bed onto the floor, tossed the wire, hitting dead on and then pulling it as tight as his bare hands would allow. The slim weapon pulled tight and he heard a low grunt of surprise. Balinese took over his being and he became, once more, the fierce killer that he had been in the past. The only thing that kept whatever part of Aya’s body intact was the fact that he couldn’t pull the wire any tighter without the threat of serious damage to his own hands. And, more importantly, he could tell that Aya had intruded in his personal space. The redhead’s usual combination of male musk and the sweet fragrance of roses wafted past Yohji’s overly sensitive nose.



Aya stopped his forward advance when the wire came zinging out of the darkness, he sent up a prayer to the gods, his guardian angel or whomever watched over him for the heavy leather of his trench coat. The lightweight wire hadn’t cut through the solid material and into the delicate flesh beneath. The thought that Balinese had come out to play for the first time in weeks caused a wave of desire to sweep through his body. Abyssinian came into the forefront, guiding his reactions and thoughts. A small part of him wondered in amazement that there were two different personalities hiding in his body. Gods, he must be borderline schizophrenic.



“What are you doing, Balinese?” he snarled, twisting his arm just right to free it from the loosely wrapped wire. “Trying to hurt me? I figured you’d be used to strangers letting themselves into your room. I mean the whole team knows what a slut you are. And Omi now knows about your little tryst with that red-haired bastard from Schwarz. How long did you think you could hide it from us?” He quietly started moving toward the figure huddled on the floor, his feet moving with cat-like stealth, living up to his code name.



Yohji panicked when the wire went slack. He couldn’t hear Aya, he couldn’t see him and now he was totally defenseless against a man who had, more than once, shown his antagonistic tendencies toward him. The smooth, bare floor felt cool beneath his hands as he crab-walked sideways along the wall. Instinct told him that he needed to get to a place where he could better protect himself. The corner stopped him, giving him the kind of security he had been looking for. This way all he had to worry about protecting was his head. The walls on either side of him would guard the rest of his body. He curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around his head, protecting his face and head. A small, distressed whimper slipped through his lips as he waited for Aya…no, Abyssinian to attack.



That tiny whine of terror sent Abyssinian back to the closet to await the next mission. Aya stood in the shadowy twilight of Yohji’s room and choked back a sob of his own. For the second time in less than three days, he had threatened or attacked an injured man. Shame washed through him like a flash flood, nearly taking his sanity with it. Somehow, the team had always managed to keep their reason and now his was headed the way of his family.



The sight of Yohji hunched up on the floor, his body language screaming terror caused the bile to rise in the redhead’s throat. He carefully knelt beside that trembling figure and drew him into his arms. At Aya’s touch, Yohji went berserk, arms flailing, legs kicking. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his vocal cords frozen in terror. The redhead held on to his prize with gentle but strong arms.



“Sh-sh-sh, Yohji,” he softly crooned, “You’re all right. Calm down, no one’s going to hurt you.” The low rumble of his voice began hypnotizing the frantic man. Slowly, Yohji started to quiet down, his breath still coming it swift pants but the jerky motions of his body had ceased and he lay, shivering, in Aya’s arms.



Aya ignored the ache from his left eye, where Yohji’s elbow had connected with his face and he also disregarded the thin trickle of blood from his split lip. Right now the only thing that mattered was the delicate form in his arms. He gently rocked the blonde from side to side, singing some nonsense song that he barely remembered his mother singing to him when he had been frightened by something as a child. Carefully, gently he raised the blonde’s face and placed a soft, reverent kiss on the full, lush lips. Aya moaned with the contact and deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into the depths of his partner’s mouth.



Yohji whimpered as he tried to crawl deeper into Aya’s arms. The redhead’s tongue flickered out, licking the salty tracks left by his tears. Firm, warm lips grazed Yohji’s face and traced a path down his jaw to the sensitive hollow behind one ear. Aya’s sweet breath in his ear drove the blonde to distraction and he began to moan louder.



“Yohji,” Aya sighed, “we need to be quiet.”



“Huh?”



“Omi.”



“Ah.” Yohji knew that he wasn’t being coherent, but he really didn’t give a damn. He swiveled in Aya’s grasp, so that he straddled slim hips and their bodies were rubbing together.



Somehow, Aya managed to get his knees under Yohji’s ass and from there he stood up; thanking the gods that the lanky blonde had lost some weight during his recovery and that the decadent confection that Yohji called a bed sat less than four steps away from them. He didn’t think he could have carried the blind man any further than that. When his knees made contact with the edge of the bed, he tossed Yohji into the middle of the silk-covered mattress, watching in anticipation as the blonde landed on his back, legs spread and the evidence of his arousal apparent through the loose, soft cotton of his pajama bottoms. He fell on the object of his obsession like a ravenous wolf, devouring every inch of caramel-colored skin he could find, nearly tearing Yohji’s trews off in his haste.



Yohji moaned as Aya’s lips and teeth attacked him. His fear vanished under the gentle ministrations of the fiery redhead. The thought of the quiet man being passionate took the leggy blonde by surprise; it wasn’t too much of a stretch though – for some reason the stillest waters ran the fastest under the surface. He relaxed into the worship his body was receiving.



“Yohji,” Aya moaned, licking the curves of the taller man’s collarbone. He sucked on the juncture of neck and shoulder, marking his territory, claiming his mate in the most primitive of manners. His hands roamed over the bare expanse of the Yohji’s chest, stopping only to torment the flat, brown nubs found there. His lips soon followed the lead of his hands. He took one tight bud into his mouth and began sucking, nipping and laving it, until the tight bud stood up at attention and the blonde’s body shuddered with the sensations flying down stimulated nerve endings.



“Aya…more,” Yohji groaned. He tried to pull the other man’s face up for a kiss and Aya resisted him, kissing further down his flat belly. His soft, wet tongue outlined every muscle from Yohji’s shoulders to his waist, stopping only the swirl his tongue into his belly button. The repeated action mimicked a more intimate act. And it was all Yohji could do not to scream when Aya’s tongue swiped up the length of his cock and the tip slipped into the small slit at the very top of the organ. His hips bucked up off the slick surface of the bed.



He felt Aya grin against his penis. “What?!” he gasped.



“Nothing,” Aya rumbled, his breath puffing against the rigid hardness, causing a whole new set of shivers.



“You’re getting a kick out of teasing me, aren’t you?”



“Would I do that?” Aya asked, laughter in his voice. “I thought that ice princes didn’t know how to tease.” He engulfed Yohji’s engorged cock with his mouth, inexpertly swallowing it. He wrapped his fist around the base of the cock where he couldn’t quite reach with his mouth. The very real, very inexperienced treatment his dick was receiving told Yohji more about the man pleasuring him than anything in the last two years. It finally dawned on the tall blonde that he would be the first – the only lover that Aya had ever had. Granted the redhead knew, in theory, what to do, he had never done any of this with a living, breathing partner. That knowledge caused Yohji to become harder than he had ever been.



“Aya,” he whimpered, thrusting hard into the warm, wet orifice surrounding his organ.



Aya’s long fingers slid down to his partner’s balls. He carefully rolled the sack, squeezing and tugging. His hand drifted down more to the fragile skin between balls and ass. He began to stroke the skin in tight, concentric circles; stimulating Yohji’s prostate from the outside. The bolts of pure pleasure had the older man’s hips bucking off the slippery sheets and his hidden pucker opened a bit, relaxing under the stimulus. Aya’s mouth worked its magic on the cock in it; his throat opened up and he swallowed the whole organ, humming as the head touched his tonsils.



“AYA!” Yohji screamed as he came. He lay on the silk sheets, body still trembling from the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. He could feel Aya removing his pajama bottoms, but didn’t have the strength to do anything to help. Then his body received what it truly wanted, Aya’s smooth, pale skin glided against his.



Yohji’s scream woke Omi from a dead sleep. The petite blonde shot to his feet, pulling out the three darts that he had secreted on his person, dropping his precious laptop onto the floor and his feet tangling in the power cord. He barreled into the room and stopped dead at the sight of naked flesh. Both Aya and Yohji lay on the midnight blue sheets totally bare. Neither of them had the presence of mind to even care that the most innocent member of the team stood in the doorway, face flaming.



“Aya!” Omi shouted, getting both men’s attention.



“Omi,” Aya rumbled from his place between Yohji’s legs.



“How the hell did you get in here?”



“Window. Got a problem with that?”



Omi chewed on the edge of his thumbnail. “I don’t want you hurting Yohji.”



“Chibi, he’s not,” Yohji said after getting his breath back.



“But I heard—”



“He made me come. That’s all, Chibi.”



“But—”



“It’s all right, Omi. He didn’t hurt me, ‘kay? As a matter of fact it felt really good.” Yohji blushed, the reality of the situation finally sinking into his sex-addled brain.



“Omi,” Aya murmured, “Door. Use it.”



“Wha-what?” the little blonde stammered.



“Door. Use it. Leave.” The volatile redhead pointed toward the open door.



“Yohji?” Omi asked uncertain about what he should do.



“Go on, Kid. I’ll be fine.” He pulled Aya up toward the head of the bed. “I just think that there are a few things that me and Ayan need to talk out. Go to bed and if I need you, you’re right next door and can hear everything.”



“‘Kay.” The young man slipped through the doorway, closing the heavy slab behind him. He let out a little cry at the sight of his damaged laptop. “Fuck,” he quietly swore under his breath. If he couldn’t get the information off the trashed machine, he’d certainly fail his English class, the teacher probably wouldn’t accept the excuse of the broken apparatus. He slipped into his room, shaking his head in confusion and disgust. Why had Yohji allowed Aya to remain in his room? What was really going on with the two of them? Would he ever understand adults? If this was the way adults were supposed to act, he’d never become one. They made no sense, just like the girls in his school or the fangirls that fluttered around the shop like so many butterflies.





* * * * * *







Aya climbed up and curled his body around the long, lean one of his partner. He stroked every inch of bare skin he could comfortably reach, his hard on throbbing with every beat of his heart, but this night wasn’t about him. This night was for Yohji, to help him heal after both his accident and the rough treatment he received at the redhead’s hands.



“Aya,” Yohji mumbled against his neck.



“Hm?”



“Why?”



“Why what?”



“I thought you hated me.”



“Not really.” He let out his breath in a soft sigh. “I was jealous.”



“Aya,” the tall blonde said, rubbing his face against Aya’s chest. “I don’t know what to say.”



“Then don’t say anything. Now go to sleep,” he said, shifting under Yohji to find a more comfortable position. The blonde’s fingers drew lazy circles around his nipples and then began their descent southward. Aya grabbed his fingers before he could reach his goal. “Go to sleep, Yohji.”



“But—”



“Now you sound like Omi. Sleep.”



“Fine. Just lay there and suffer, see if I care.”



“Yohji,” Aya breathed into his hair. “The body can be ignored, if you have enough willpower to do it.”



“I’m so glad that I don’t follow your dogma. Your demands would kill any normal, red-blooded man. Hmph! The body can be ignored, yeah right.”



“Yohji, sleep.”



“‘Kay,” he yawned, his body pulling him closer to the brink of sleep. He’d worry about Aya’s problem in the morning. Right now, sleep drew him and he couldn’t resist the siren song. His sex-sated body craved rest and he’d be damned if he would ignore its pleading. He curled tighter to Aya’s side and started to drift off. “Stay with me?” he mumbled.



“Always,” came the quiet reply.





@ @ @ @ @ @





Aya woke to the feeling of something velvety soft and very wet tracing his lean muscles. A soft moan escaped his lips when he realized that Yohji’s tongue was sketching out the shapes of his body, avoiding the area that cried the loudest for his attention.



“Gods, Yohji,” he panted. “Don’t tease!”



A wicked chuckle ghosted against his straining cock, causing the organ to jump toward its tormentor. “I haven’t begun to tease, Ayan. Just you wait until I’m really ready to harass, then you’ll know what teasing is.” His expert mouth swallowed Aya’s throbbing dick, surrounding it in hot, wet warmth.



The redhead’s hips thrust toward that warmth, seeking to get closer to it. His whole body pulsed with the feelings that were sweeping over him. Lust ruled the day, but other emotions colored his feelings too. Love, joy and just the tiniest bit of happiness threatened to crack his façade and allow the true person beneath the veneer to come out. The combination of emotions brought him to a panic. He didn’t deserve to feel this good, not while his parents were dead and his little sister lay in a coma, because of his inability to protect her.



Everything that he ever cared for seemed to die or go away. That feeling of worthlessness brought on a lot of the “Ice Prince” behaviors. He didn’t want to risk getting close to people who would leave him alone like his family did. There were too many risks with what Weiss did. This feeling of helplessness didn’t sit well with him. The need for Yohji’s love and the approval of the others left him undergoing a serious crisis. They had already seen what happened to those that cared about him. Yohji’s blindness was, in a way, his fault for caring about the leggy blonde. He began to struggle against the surge of softer emotions sweeping through his body. Those and the overwhelming sense of lust that their current activity brought with it.



“Yohji, no!” Aya yelped, trying to pull away from that talented mouth.



“Aya?” Yohji asked, letting the redhead’s cock slip from his mouth.



“No.”



“What’s going on?” Yohji asked, confusion furrowing his brow. “Did I do something wrong?”



Aya rolled away from the warm, lush temptation of Yohji’s body. He sat on the edge of the bed, trembling with fear and denied lust. The walls of his protections were crumbling from the ground up and he didn’t know how to repair them. Before the deaths of his parents, he had been a serious but loving young man. He had teased and tormented his little sister, just like any big brother should. But in an instance that was all stolen from him and the walls of ice wrapped themselves tightly around the cold core that once had been his heart.



“You did nothing wrong, Yohji,” he icily said. “Why don’t you get up and start getting ready for the day?” He moved away from the bed. Yohji’s blank eyes stared in his direction, seeing nothing. Blindness didn’t mar the beauty of his eyes, if anything they were clearer: the emerald depths defenseless, their ramparts broken by the lack of sight.



“Aya, you promised to stay with me,” Yohji whispered, the sound barely making it passed the lump in his throat. “I must have done something wrong if you’re already going to leave.” He held out an imploring hand. “What did I do? Aya, please tell me what I did wrong and how to warm you back up.”



“Yohji, you didn’t do anything. I need to go get ready for work.” He started walking towards the door, trench coat lying over his right forearm.



“Aya!” the leggy blonde yelled at him.



“Huh?” He stopped and turned around to face the bed. “Wha….?” His question died on his lips at the sound of Yohji’s wire singing through the room caught his ears. He made sure to stand very still as it curled around his bare wrist, the razor-sharp edges slicing off the top few layers of his skin.



“Get back here, Fujimiya,” Balinese growled at him. “We’re not done. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you leave me with blue balls, got it Red?”



“Balinese,” Aya snarled at him, “Back down.”



“Like hell I will.” The wire grew taunt, giving the redhead two choices, either return to the temptation on the bed or lose his right hand, the hand that brandished his katana. He walked slowly back to the bed.



“What do you want, Kuduo?”



“I want to know why you suddenly went all icy on me,” Yohji growled, pulling him closer. “I want to know what’s going through your thick skull when you back away from me like this.”



“I’m thinking that I need to get ready to open the store,” he icily answered. “Now are you going to stop playing around and let me go or am I going to have to hurt you?”



Yohji made a guttural noise and pulled Aya’s free hand, dragging the redhead back into the sybarite paradise he called a bed. With practiced ease, he handcuffed the reluctant swordsman to the headboard and began to finish what they had started no more than five minutes earlier. Velvet soft lips traced over the head of Aya’s cock, as it peered over the edge of his foreskin, followed by the lush, wet pliability of his tongue.



“Do you know what I like the best about full-blood Asian men?” Yohji said, his breath puffing against the over-sensitive organ.



“N-n-no,” Aya gasped out, trying his best to sound peeved and put out, but totally failing.



“There aren’t too many of them that are cut. Most Americans and more than a few Europeans are like me and don’t have the lovely protection that you do.” Yohji applied himself to his task with great relish. The bittersweet fluid that leaked from the head of Aya’s prick tasted like him – hot, bitter, musky with a overlaying sweetness that could show up in the redhead’s personality. It never ceased to amaze him how people’s character showed up in their bodily fluids.



Schuldig tasted like overripe cheese. Ken’s cum carried the tang of old sweat socks (don’t ask – don’t tell). And Aya’s was semi-sweet chocolate over ripe strawberries, the slightly bitter flavors of the fruit and candy along with just that proper amount of sweetness. He couldn’t wait to savor the main course. But then he didn’t intend on letting all that creamy goodness go to waste, when Aya came it would be up Yohji’s ass – as it should be.



He released the throbbing organ from his mouth, with a loud pop, and moved toward the end of the bed still in the redhead’s view. Before he reached his goal, he stopped and pulled a tube out of a drawer in the nightstand. He held it up where Aya could see it.



“What flavor do I have here?” he asked, holding up the tube.



“Strawberry,” Aya choked out.



“Perfect.” Yohji sat on the footboard, long legs spread and his nearly erect cock pointing toward the man handcuffed to the headboard. He slowly squeezed out some of the scented gel and began to rub it up and down his ruddy shaft, moaning loudly. The over-stimulated organ twitched with every stroke. He cupped and fondled his own balls, gently pulling the sack away from his body and rolling the firm spheres in his long fingers. A breathy moan escaped his throat, passion thrumming through his body. He aimed a wicked, wanton grin at Aya, as his fingers continued their slow, immodest crawl toward his tight pucker.



Aya’s breath came in fast pants and he shifted, uncomfortably, trying to get his body closer to the golden figure at the end of the bed. Yohji’s shameless teasing brought his blood to a boil and he reefed at the metal pinning his wrists in place.



“Yohji,” Aya growled, “let me the hell up.”



“Why should I?” he answered, sliding one long, tan, strawberry-scented finger into his ass. “Oh gods! This is good!” Lean hips thrust in the primal rhythm that thrummed through his body. Yohji moaned as he inserted another finger and began slowly stretching his tight hole.



Aya’s breathing kept tempo with each twitch of the leggy blonde’s body. His body strained to join the golden-skinned man teasing him from the end of the bed. He pulled on the handcuffs with all his strength, trying to free his hands. Yohji’s throaty chuckle nearly drove him over the edge and watching those pale gold digits sliding in and out of the tight heat had Aya drooling before the second finger disappeared into the moist darkness. A third finger joined the first two and Yohji’s hips rocketed off the footboard as he struck his own sweet spot.



“Oh god, Aya,” Yohji groaned as he teased his own body. “Don’t you wish you could join me?”



“Let. Me. The. Fucking. Hell. Up!” Aya ground out from in-between tightly clenched teeth. “Either you let me the fuck up or I’m going to tear the damned headboard off this monstrosity. You hear me, Yotan?”



“Promises, promises.”



The lithe muscles in Aya’s chest began to tremble with the strain that he placed on them as his wrists came closer to each other. He could clearly hear the handcuffs groaning their displeasure at his treatment and one of the links gave way with a soft, popping gasp. Soon, he’d have everything that he wanted and there would be no way in hell that Yohji would be able to stop him. It was full speed ahead and damn the consequences. A second link parted under his handling and his hands began to move free.



“You break them, Ayan, you’ve bought them,” Yohji gasped out as his fingers struck his sweet spot once again.



“Then get your scrawny ass over here and let me go,” came the growled answer. “I’ll show you what to do with these damned things!”



“Will you, Ayan?” Yohji sighed, removing his fingers from his channel. “Will you do me good?”



“Yesssssss!” Aya cried in triumph as the chain linking the two cuffs came apart and his hands were free. “Get ready. I don’t intend on showing any mercy.” He threw the leggy blonde down to his hands and knees on the bed and found the tube of lubricant. With quick, jerky motions, Aya greased up his throbbing cock and then shoved it into Yohji’s waiting orifice.



Yohji could hear one thing repeated clearly as Aya took what he wanted from him. Every thrust became punctuated with a breathily whispered “Mine!”. It was a good feeling to be wanted and to want back. Somehow, they had moved beyond being adversaries and were moving into a new realm. Perhaps the two of them could make a real life together. Maybe they were meant for each other and their lives had been hell for just that reason. Or possibly his thoughts were just a load of horseturds and the only thing that they shared was an overwhelming physical need for each other.



Yohji’s back arched as Aya slammed into his prostate. The redhead’s fingers were digging into his hips and their bodies slamming together made an obscene counterpoint to their moans. He could feel the pressure growing, could see the gates of paradise just out of his reach. His body bucked and writhed against Aya’s, striving for the perfection that awaited them both if they worked hard enough.



Like a tsunami, the feelings rushed over Yohji, swamping his senses. He cried out Aya’s name and came against the bed. His anal muscles tightened around the redhead’s dick, making movement almost impossible and the milking motions brought Aya over the edge.



They crumpled together onto the coolness of the silk sheets, Aya’s body laying protectively over Yohji’s lighter, taller one. They slowly disengaged from each other and lay down on the bed.



Aya pulled Yohji against his chest and cradled the other man in his arms. “We can deal with anything, as long as we’re working together,” he whispered into Yohji’s ear. “We’ll find a way for you to work as part of the team.”



“Aya, I—”



“Don’t,” Aya said, placing his fingers over Yohji’s mouth. “I don’t want to hear anymore excuses or reasons why you can’t do even the simplest of things. Please trust me and know that I will find a way for you to contribute.”



“If you say so,” Yohji responded, doubtfully. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice but to trust you.”



“Good.” Aya pulled him closer and smoothed his hand down Yohji’s back. “Now, let’s try to get some sleep.” He moved carefully, drawing up the sheet around the two of them and settling the lanky form better in his arms.







* * * * * *





Things went better after that night. While not perfect, Aya and Yohji found a common ground. The passionate redhead did some research and began separating out the flowers for his lover. And Yohji found that his lack of eyesight helped in the designing of floral arrangements. With Aya’s help, his work became some of the most sought after in the Koneko.



Omi helped out by teaching the lanky blonde how to run his computer, going as far as to install special accessories for the blind. While he hated sitting at the keyboard, Yohji knew that his work there freed Omi up for the things that he couldn’t do any longer. It felt good to be back to work both places and to know that he was carrying his share of the load once again.



Schuldig reared his ugly head only once and Aya’s berserk mode made it impossible for the conniving orange-haired bastard to interfere. Aya’s mind shut down to the point that the telepath couldn’t read what his intentions were and Schu nearly got his manhood severed from his body. After that, he didn’t seem too keen on playing with Yohji anymore.



After six months of blindness, Yohji resigned himself to that state. Somehow, accepting the inevitable seemed harder than it was. The morning after his acceptance, he woke to the sun glaring in his eyes. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, but he and Aya had gone out to his favorite club the night before and barely beat the sun back to the house.



“Ugh,” he moaned, pulling his pillow over his eyes.



“Yohji,” Aya murmured, “what’s the matter?”



“Sun. Eyes. Too bright.”



“Go to sleep,” Aya said, pulling him closer. It didn’t occur to either of them until they woke up later that morning what Yohji had said.



Yohji reached out with awestruck hands and gently stroked Aya’s cheek, his eyes following the movement of his hand.



Aya grinned at him. “Welcome back, Balinese.”