Heartbreak Hotel

Yohji stared out the hotel room window, adjusted his hair tie, and grinned. “Nice view. How’d you manage to get this room, Aya? With what Momoe gives us, I can barely afford the maintenance on the Seven.”

“Unlike you, I do not live paycheck to paycheck,” Aya said, moving beside him. “I save my money.”

“Still, this is quite the suite,” Yohji said. He walked over to the bed and flopped back, reclining back into a lounge. “It’s got a king bed and I think there’s a whirlpool in the bathroom. This is high class. A lot better than those motels I end up at.”

“You deserve better than that,” Aya said.

Yohji laughed. “It’s just where I end up after clubbing. Places like this aren’t exactly near the clubs and you can pay for them as long as you need them.”

Aya reached over and gave a possessive squeeze, lowering himself to Yohji’s lips. His tongue batted playfully with Yohji’s before he pulled away. He swallowed and tasted the remains of the peppermint Yohji popped into his mouth after they left the flower shop. Aya hated the taste of cigarettes, but loved the way it smelled on Yohji. The cigarette scent, mixed with the cologne he wore, gave Yohji that night on the town smell.

“You know, we can be as loud as we like here,” Yohji said. “We don’t have to worry about Ken or Omi hearing us.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’? You’re the one I have to muffle with a pillow,” Aya said with a frown.

“Or with something else,” Yohji said with a sly smile. “Speaking of which,” he trailed off and went for Aya’s zipper.

Aya batted his hand away. “Not yet,” he said. A thin smile appeared on his lips. “I want to try something different.”

“Kinky,” Yohji said, “I’m game.” He set his sunglasses on the night stand and grinned.

“I want a striptease,” Aya said. He pointed, “in front of the mirror. I want you to see yourself as you do it and I want to watch.”

“I’ve had practice with this,” Yohji said. He approached the mirror and smoothed back his hair. “How sexy do you want it?”

“Are you suggesting that you have a Sexy Scale?”

“Maybe,” Yohji said. He trailed his right fingers down his lips and throat, leaning back into their touch, before he used his left hand to slowly peel away his shirt. He shook out his hair, loosing it from the tie that bound the strands together. Hooking his thumbs into his waist band he gave a little hip action, turning in a circle to an imaginary DJ.

Behind the double mirror, unknown to Yohji, Brad Crawford watched with undivided attention.

Yohji reached down to his belt, playfully pulling it back and forth before he removed it from the belt loops. He smoothed his palms down his legs, relishing the fabric all the way to the ground before he slowly stood. He dug his heels into the carpet and kicked off his boots, digging his toes into the hotel carpet before he went for his zipper. Like always he had opted to wear no undergarment.

His thumbs hooked deeper into the pants and pushed down, body swaying back and forth as the pants pooled around his ankles. He neatly stepped out of his clothing and faced the mirror. He rested a hand on his hip and turned to Aya. His butt flexed tightly in the mirror as his stray hand caressed sensitive skin. He turned back to the mirror and thrust a hip to the side, taking his time to run his hand up and down his own thigh.

Aya swallowed the lump in his throat and approached Yohji. His penis bulged against fabric and he freed it before his prepared finger entered into Yohji.

Brad Crawford clenched his hands around the plush chair, feeling an erection pressing against his neatly laundered trousers. He stood and calmly removed his suit, keeping his eyes fixed on the events in front of him. He hadn’t expected to react so soon.

He reached for a satin robe and tightened its sash, painfully aware of his growing desire.

Yohji’s hands were pressed against the mirror as Aya pushed into him. His muscles adjusted to Aya’s length and he wiggled back into his lover, gasping for Aya to go deeper. He moaned as Aya grabbed his hips and placed a hand on the mirror to brace his body. The glass trembled at the added weight, but held. Yohji’s knees trembled, threatening to give out as he lowered his body to Aya’s stature. Pressing his forehead against the glass he moaned and huffed with each push, fogging the glass with each breath. He cried out when his prostate was prodded and nearly sagged to his knees. Aya’s firm hold insisted on his position, giving a final push before liquid dripped down Yohji’s thigh.

Aya held onto the other man as they knelt and rested his head on Yohji’s shoulder as back sweat stained his shirt. He waited several minutes before he pulled out, reaching for a towel to wipe away the mess before he zipped.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Mmm…yes,” Yohji murmured.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aya said.

Yohji blinked. “What?” He brushed away a sweaty lock of hair from his cheek. “Aya?”

A portion of the mirror opened to reveal a door and Brad Crawford.

“Shit!” Yohji went for his wrist and cursed again, realizing that he had left his garrote in his jacket, in the Seven. Having an idea of what Aya intended by the hotel room, he didn’t want any mishaps. “What the hell, Aya?!” He reached for his pants to cover himself.

Ignoring Yohji, “well?”

“I am satisfied,” Crawford said. “The payment for your sister’s hospital bill has already been deposited into your account. I’ve also taken the liberty to take care of the room’s finances. A valet has your car ready for you in the parking lot. I will return your team member when I am through with him.”

“Fuck that,” Yohji said. “I’m not something to be bought!” He looked to Aya and his rage froze at the scathing look he received. His mind assessed what Crawford said - the man had deliberately mentioned Aya’s sister. He had his suspicions about her condition and had dated a nurse at the hospital to gauge information about the mysterious girl. However, he didn’t think that Aya would use him as payment for the bills. It explained why he saved so much, why he never spent anything on himself, why he chided Yohji for his paycheck living. But, it didn’t explain why he was making a deal with the enemy.

Crawford’s eyes lifted to the ceiling for a moment as if he was listening to another conversation before they rested on Yohji. “It is in your best interest to cooperate.” He turned to Aya and waved him out of the room.

Yohji shivered when Aya gave him a cool look and left him alone with the other assassin.

Covering his fear with a jaded edge to his voice, “that’s pretty low, Schwarz. Bribing my team mate with his sister’s medical bills just so you can kill me.”

“I think you know that I do not intend to kill you,” Crawford said. He approached the blonde. “In fact, since I own you for the night, I think that you have a very good idea of what I intend to do with you.”

Yohji glared and stood, keeping his pants pressed against himself as he made his way to sit on the bed. His gaze strayed to the partially opened robe and he chided himself for the longing twinge beneath the fabric. “You’re Crawford, right?”

“Yes,” he said. He pulled at the pants Yohji held, raising an eyebrow at the swelling skin.

“I read up on you,” Yohji said. “You’re some kind of Oracle? And your team, that red head, the pirate, and some kid – experiments or something. Are they off watching us somewhere too?”

“Pirate?” Crawford’s lips twitched in amusement.

“The eyepatch.”

“Oh,” Crawford said. “No, the relevant members of my team are elsewhere.”

Yohji gulped when Crawford abruptly tore away the pants and loomed over him as if inspecting his latest purchase. Yohji went to move away and was surprised at Crawford’s agility and the way he was restrained, as if he anticipated the move. “What do you want?”

“Your body,” Crawford said. He reached down and massaged skin, smirking at Yohji’s surprised yelp. “Now that I have your attention,” Crawford said, “I’ve Seen two possibilities for this transaction. Possibility One involves unnecessary pain and a mess that the concierge covers up before he takes you away.” He flexed his palm and released Yohji to part open his robe. “Or there is Possibility Two, which involves pain covered with the cries of pleasure. The choice is yours, but either way I am staking my claim on you tonight.”

Yohji licked his dry lips and swallowed, mesmerized by one of the choices before him. He’d never met an American as well endowed as Crawford.

A throaty laugh interrupted his thoughts and he grunted as he was pushed back for a bruising kiss. His dismay was muffled by tongue and his worries were distracted by a probing finger that stretched out taut muscle. Slick fingers moved in and out, bringing a gasp and moan with each extension of flesh.

Crawford relished each noise, “he wasn’t lying when he said you were a vocal one.”

“Nnnn.”

Crawford laughed. “We’ll see how vocal you can be.” He carefully turned Yohji around, taking the time to pull on a condom. He took it out of the robe’s pocket as he would a crisp bill, tore open the wrapper, and fixed it firmly around his length before he pushed forward, pulling Yohji’s hips toward his waist.

“Aa..aah!”

“Relax,” Crawford said. He grunted as muscle tightened around him.

Yohji whimpered and pressed his sweaty forehead against the duvet, biting his lip as he was filled. Aya never hurt this much. The club men he fooled around with never hurt this much. His vision fogged as thoughts of impending pleasure filled his mind and he managed to still his distressed muscles, releasing the tension.

Crawford sighed in relief and pulled back before he pushed forward, twisting to the side so that the Japanese man could become accustomed to his size. The heat from the condom’s wrapping created friction that made every movement touch sensitive.

Yohji cried out. “Now! Do it now!”

“Are you begging?”

Yohji gritted his teeth and tried to push back into the man, but was stopped.

“Beg.”

Yohji cursed and bucked, but Crawford held firm.

“I said, Beg.”

“..p..lease…give..it..now,” he huffed. He clawed at the blankets and whimpered a string of Japanese too fast to decipher.

Crawford accepted the garble and pushed. He reveled in Yohji’s moan as sweaty skin connected with a wet slap. He rocked back and then forward, developing a rhythm of four quick thrusts and one deep, three quick and two deep, two quick and three deep, until he finally concluded with four deep thrusts.

Yohji yelled Crawford’s name in broken pants, only expelling the first half of his name before he exuded a primal barrage of moans. He felt his prostate convulse and his vision exploded into a spatter painting of unconsciousness.

Crawford felt Yohji’s throb and the muscles that enveloped his penis pulsed, sending his climax into a latex void. His sight blurred to a haze of the past, recalling past sexual encounters that burned into the sordid possibilities of the future.

A bead of sweat trickled down his glasses frame and his orgasm sent visions into the salty droplet, drowning his sense of time. A mental nudge reset his balance and he pulled out of Yohji, resting beside him and leaving the robe exposed to the world.

He turned his head to Yohji and offered a grim smile before he removed the condom with care, disposing it into the bedside trash. He walked into the shower and remained in its chilly embrace until he cooled down.

Yohji heard the shower’s spray and kept his eyes close as he became aware of the soreness. He rolled to his side and winced. A wet slap against his chest jolted his eyes open and he looked at the rolled washcloth with puzzled dismay.

“You’re all over the sheets,” Crawford said. “Clean your mess up. I don’t want to give the maid service any more of a tip.”

Crawford rested his back against the bathroom door’s frame, comfortably displaying his form.

Yohji wiped at the bed and tilted his head. “Is that the tub running?”

Crawford nodded. “I intend you to join me.”

Abandoning the washcloth, Yohji walked to the bathroom and closed his eyes to inhale the sweet scent of jasmine from the bath. A gentle hum and sizzle from the tub signaled the start of the water jets.

Crawford turned off the faucet and entered the whirlpool. He carefully placed his glasses on the raised tile and motioned for Yohji to get in. He watched the man hesitantly test the water before he settled into position.

“Come here.”

Yohji shifted closer and grunted when his wrist was grabbed.

Crawford rose to sit on the raised tile. “I want you to have one hand on yourself and one on me as you suck.”

Yohji exhaled and he could have sworn his breath was steam. Desire rose around him in a bubble bath vapor as he became entranced by what lie before him. He found himself curious about the taste and curious as to whether he could make the man moan.

Crawford startled at Yohji’s playful nip and sudden push on his balls. He leaned back as Yohji’s mouth enveloped his length and nearly slipped as his palms struggled to find a grip on the slick tiles. The heat of water and saliva bathed his skin with liquid fire. Moist muscle toyed with flesh as Yohji’s mouth pulled back to suckle his tip. He was taken again and cheeks flexed to tug on his skin.

The bittersweet bath water clung onto Crawford’s pubic hair as Yohji continued his oral assault. If he was going to be a cavity to the man, he intended to be the nocturnal beast that prowled its innards with carnal desire. His hand pumped furiously, churning the water to a small rapid’s intensity as he took care of his own desire. He heard a choked moan from the man and pulled back allowing himself to release as he watched the other man come into the water. Foam obscured the sticky substance and Yohji rested his head on Crawford’s thigh, exhausted from his effort. The orgasm had distracted the prickle of pain that burned in the soap-laden water.

Crawford rested a hand on Yohji’s head before he moved them both out of the water. They bathed in the small shower, pressing against the glass as the water removed their act.

The tub drained as Yohji wrapped the towel around his waist. He flopped onto the bed and buried his head into the pillow.

Crawford left the bathroom and tightened his robe, placing his hands into the pockets to give Yohji a calm assessment. “You were definitely worth it, Kudou.” He placed an envelope on the bed and headed toward the mirror. “I may have to purchase you again.”

“What? You didn’t get enough this time?”

“Oh no, I received plenty,” Crawford said. “However, it seems that a teammate of mine is rather curious as to how you would feel between us. If I’m in a charitable mood, I may oblige his curiosity.”

Yohji closed his eyes when Crawford left the room and sighed. He was sore, but sated at the moment and he couldn’t care less that he was just bought. His thoughts settled on Aya and he shook his head, not wanting to dwell on what his lover did to him. He could drink their nights away if he wanted them to disappear.

However, the sight of the bulging envelope at the bedside made him think: At least I’m considered an expensive fuck.

He’d have to make sure Aya paid him back with interest.