Gravitation Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Yearning in Darkness ❯ Luck of the Draw ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Yearning in Darkness

Chapter 2

The apartment building -- one of the newer high-rise corporate buildings in mid-Tokyo that had been built to cater to the glittering Western jet-set culture -- was less of a surprise given the subtle and not so subtle clues of K's apparent wealth. Set like a jewel in the downtown district, carved doors of rich mahogany were adorned with stained glass and guarded jealously by an elegantly uniformed doorman.

Yohji's stomach muscles jumped beneath the teasing glide of fingers, as K undid the seat belt for him. He scrambled out of the car and slammed the door in vicious counterpoint to K's laughter.

Tossing his keys with a jangling carelessness to the sleepy-eyed valet, K prowled around the car intent on Yohji, who was suddenly feeling ill at ease and conspicuously under-dressed in what he had often called his 'fuck-me' clothes. The doorman was eyeing him peculiarly, a slight twist of his lips indicating his opinion of just who Yohji was, his family's status and his probable line of work.

The sudden warmth of K's hand placed proprietarily on his bare skin distracted Yohji long enough for K to whisk him inside. With quiet arrogance, his host strode through the ostentatious foyer, hauling him forcefully as the assassin began to slow, thoughts of flight making an abrupt resurgence.

Yohji looked around. "This has got to cost a pretty chunk of yen. What is it you said you do?"

K, briefly distracted by the desk attendant and a couple of security guards who waved them past, answered offhandedly, "I'm an agent."

He was a first class idiot. Drinking and fucking definitely didn't mix. Yohji was having a hard time wrapping his mind around his surroundings, much less reevaluating his conception of K. "Whoa." He stopped abruptly as the ornate gold filigree doors hissed open revealing a mirrored interior. Brooking no resistance, K hauled him forcefully into the cubicle that was at least as large as the shared bathroom at the Koneko.

Fuck, K was stronger than he appeared. An edge of panic suspiciously akin to excitement trailed down Yohji's back. He gave the flamboyant blond an uncertain look. "Like CIA or Covert Ops or something?"

Amusement sparked in K's face and he laughed, a deep joyous sound pouring over Yohji with sensual warmth. Yohji felt his eyes widen in dismay. Shimatta. What kind of alphabet soup was he mixed up in?

Before Yohji could follow that with more questions, K elaborated, prowling closer. "I manage a pop band. You, bouya, probably haven't heard of them." K twisted his hand in Yohji's hair, even as he pressed him against the mirrored wall of the elevator. "Bad Luck, ne?"

Yohji would've smiled if he hadn't felt so hunted. He could feel the thrum of the elevator through the wall. An equally powerful vibration ran through him as K continued to undulate against him teasingly. "Uhm...."

"Your problem, pretty one, is you think too much."

Yohji gawped. That was a first. Usually Aya accused him of not thinking, ever.

Not waiting for an answer, K pinned him and proceeded to inhale his tonsils in a most thorough manner, effectively stopping any other conscious thought besides how to stay upright and how soon he could come.

When the door finally dinged open, K released him, watching Yohji slump weak-kneed against the wall. Lust and passion inextricably mixed in a haze of need.

Yohji's reflection stared back at him -- red-faced, wild-eyed and breathless. He blinked at K, touching bruised lips with his fingers.

"Come on, sweetness," K laughed, taking Yohji's elbow and guiding him down a hallway. He slid a key card through a pad by a door, pressing his thumb in the center. There was the soft click of a lock turning. "Don't run, now." K's eyes mocked, his deep purr stroking warmth across Yohji's flesh.

"I won't," Yohji drawled, the lie hovering in the air as they entered. K palmed the door closed, the soft click of the lock engaging with loud finality. Yohji barely had a glimpse of subdued elegance before K was pressing him against the door, laying claim as though he were his by right of war. With thorough deliberation, he ravished Yohji's mouth, scattering doubt and thought equally with another soul shattering kiss.

There was something powerful in surrender, more intoxicating than freedom to a man imprisoned by the master manipulators of Kritiker. Yohji wondered if it came down to an outright struggle, which would win. The thought of testing himself against K sent a seductive ripple of pleasure coursing through him, tumbling in heated circles that pooled deep in his groin like a hot spring.

"Don't hurt yourself, bouya," K laughed, tapping him lightly on the face before he walked away, leaving Yohji gasping for air. Only the door held him upright. The rich voice wrapped around Yohji and pulled him further into the room. Habit had him toeing off his boots before stepping onto the lavishly piled carpets in spite of his misgivings.

The apartment was a miscellany of contradiction, like the man himself. Elegant furniture in a staid cream brocade with a rich blue print, tables adorned with potted plants and abstract statuary dotted the room in a haphazard fashion, creating a "conversation area" around a stately fireplace. The walls were festooned with a variety of pictures, both photographs and lithographs.

Making a cursory circuit of the room, K cast seemingly perfunctory looks around. It reminded Yohji strongly of similar checks Weiss made when they had been away from their apartments for any period of time. Even K's gait suggested the grace of a predator on the hunt. The man reeked of hidden danger and subdued strength. Yohji wondered again just what he had gotten himself into. There was a mystery here that intrigued, as much as the man's beauty mesmerized.

Narrowing his eyes, Yohji watched K complete the inspection of the room. To a casual observer, it might seem that K was simply turning on lights, tossing down his card key and checking for phone messages while he made himself more comfortable by unbuttoning his shirt a little more.

Yohji frowned as he stared at a picture of K and the United States President, a large jet in the background. Several more scattered photos were of various other world politicians. Not quite so startling were pictures of various celebrities, some of whom Yohji even recognized. Several showcased the same two young men, a pink haired boy and a redhead. Yohji picked up one of the frames. Had he seen them recently? On a game show, maybe? He replaced the picture where he had found it.

"Drink?"

Raising an eyebrow at the other man somewhat mockingly, Yohji drawled, "You trying to get me drunk before you have your wicked way with me?"

"If it will work."

His jaw dropped. K laughed and Yohji found his lips twitching up in a reluctant grin. "You're kidding me, right?"

K didn't answer directly, only lifted out a couple of crystal tumblers. The ice cubes tinkled merrily as he dropped them into the glasses. "Scotch?"

He took up the challenge. Why the fuck not? He slammed his crazed voice of reason back into the dark recesses of his mind where it belonged. He'd done casual fucks before, this would just be another. Of course, it would be the first man.

He moved restlessly over to the curtained window. A soft hum and the curtains parted before him as if by magic. The bejeweled skyline of Tokyo glittered back at him from the depths of night. They were so high up that the window overlooked most of the city. Faint stars gleamed in the background giving the entire scene a fairytale look.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" K murmured into his ear. He wrapped an arm around Yohji's waist, offering him the drink.

Yohji tensed. K nuzzled his hair, breathing deeply. One large hand pulled them together until he could feel the insistent nudge of K's erection, his belly jumping beneath the teasing exploration of K's fingers. He licked dry lips and thought longingly of yesterday when the world had been his playground and he had known the rules of the game. The inner sense that told him when a target was entering a room, when danger crawled out of the depth of night tingled along his spine. K was too smooth, too polished. It put him on edge.

That and the realization that he was about to be quite literally fucked.

He found himself wishing inconsequentially for the protective camouflage of his sunglasses. He felt too open, too exposed to this man. Naked and vulnerable in a way that tore at his heart and made breathing difficult.

He could see K's reflection holding him, their faces pale glimmers in the shadow of night. The two of them together were riveting; his sleek, wiry, alley cat body and K's broad shouldered frame. Stars glittered in their hair, their eyes. It held an unreal quality as if they were creatures of myth and magic caught suspended. It felt as though he were hovering on the cusp of some momentous event; that tonight, among the stars, magic was possible.

K's head dipped. He nipped at Yohji's neck, teeth scraping sensitive skin. Yohji tilted his head, unconsciously melting. K nuzzled beneath loose tendrils of hair, rooting against the base of his neck, lips warm against pliant flesh. His whispers were honey warm and whiskey sweet, the innocent, teasing facade torn away by the dark hunger that lurked beneath.

Pulling Yohji around to face him, K's hands grasped his hips and jerked. Yohji stumbled against K, his hands automatically clutching at broad shoulders as their groins pressed together in a flash of electric heat. K regarded him through shuttered eyes, their blue light gleaming with the same promise of the ever-changing sea -- destruction and life.

There it was again, the sense that K was more that what was seen on the surface, a dangerous presence that slid serpent-like beneath the dark unknown depths of his soul. Yohji frowned. K stared back at him innocently with eyes that were not windows, but blank slates filled only with what he wanted Yohji to know. "Will you give me what I want, pretty boy?" His hand squeezed Yohji's erection through the smooth leather.

Biting back a groan, he fought to stay afloat in the swirling vortex of sensation that K deliberately evoked by word and action. How the hell would he have ever known that he'd find being dominated so fucking incredible? He shook his head, not so much in an attempt to clear his mind of the lustful haze as reawaken what little rational mind he proudly nurtured.

No, fuck, no! Panic and excitement seemed to be tonight's code phrases. Elbowing K hard enough to make the man back away, Yohji stalked off. The man was an arrogant prick. An exciting, exhilarating, unpredictable arrogant prick.

"Not so fast." K snagged one of Yohji's arms. Yohji twisted like an eel on a hook, slamming his head backward. K ducked, locking arms with Yohji, his hands pressing against the back of Yohji's head, forcing him to bend forward.

"You want a struggle, bouya?" Hot breath stole along the line of Yohji's cheek, lips hovered promisingly against his throat. "I'll let you struggle all you want-- " K bit down sharply, a dark bruise blooming against the golden flesh, "--but I intend to win."

Yohji arched away from the pain, shoving his hips needfully against K's hand. The words sounded like a vow and they hit Yohji with the fierceness of bullets slamming into flesh. "Temee...no...marks." Like storm tossed waves pounding against the rocks, pleasure seethed from between the insistent fingers exploring his groin and poured through him, eradicating thought.

"Whatever I want, however I want." K abandoned Yohji's arousal and pinned the younger man's hips in a grip strong enough to leave bruises.

Outrage was captured behind tight lips as Yohji glared at the American, protest coming out in aggravated panting. "This isn't a game, asshole."

"Isn't it?" Soft and warm, a promise that dangled perilously close to ripping the cobweb-thin shroud concealing Yohji's scarred soul.

Danger, sharp and bright as the edge of Aya's katana, razored along Yohji's nerves. He drew a faltering breath. "I don't think so." He spoke with breathlessness eroded of conviction by his restless movement against the large hand teasing him to the hard precipice of dry-mouthed need.

"I know what you want."

Gods, the man could ask him to take his wire and slit his wrists and Yohji thought he might be tempted to obey, just to hear him croon his strangely accented smattering of Japanese and English in his ears. "You don't know fuck," Yohji gasped.

"I'll tell you what I know, baby." K drew a resisting Yohji down the hall toward an unexplored door that began to loom large in his mind's eye.

K's words fanned images and yearnings deep within the dark recesses of his soul that Yohji had refused to explore. Excitement spidered through him and left him trembling and weak-kneed, already willing to surrender even as he valiantly struggled against the depth of his desires.

They came to a stop. Somewhere in Yohji's beleaguered mind he realized they were in the master bedroom. He had an impression of dark wood and bright cloth and a huge bed that stood sentinel over the room.

"You want to fight, but you can't. You want to say you were too drunk to know what you were doing."

An outraged protest was squelched by the simple expedient of K running his thumb across kiss-bruised lips. Yohji flicked his tongue over them, blaming hedonistic reflexes for the desire to imprint the taste on his senses.

K gave him a savage smile, eyes hot and heavy on his mouth, voice lashing across his mind like a whip cracking across flesh. "But you're not drunk, are you, bouya? Not drunk, so you'll tell yourself that you had no choice. You were forced. Because that's the only way a straight boy can get fucked, isn't it, Yohji-chan?"

Yohji shook his head dumbly, the liquid incandescence of K's words radiating outward along tributaries of fire, a conflagration of savage need spilling over him.

"Because you want to believe you are a straight boy. It's easier that way, isn't it--easier than believing that you could want this." K licked Yohji's lips. "That you could want me."

Lightning flared through the lanky assassin, arcing along his flesh with the power of unquenchable craving. Drowning in the undertow of desire that flooded through him, Yohji felt his thoughts scatter like flotsam in a raging torrent. Whoever had said the ocean was a cold, lonely place had never been skewered by the raw energy of K's full unswerving obsession. Yohji's mind dissolved, swallowed whole by the roiling passions awakened by the man's untamed carnality.

Murmuring soft nonsense words against warm, damp skin, K sealed their bodies together, hands hot and demanding. With an undulating roll of his hips, rubbing their erections together through the layers of clothing, K husked, "You want me to take you, koibito? Want me to fuck you? Make you scream my name?"

"..." With the blood scalding through Yohji's veins in a pulsing stampede to his nether regions, it was difficult to tell if his heart was slamming itself against his chest in an attempt to escape, or if his lungs had simply stopped functioning,

Sliding palms up flat along the lean plane of the assassin's hips, fingers tingling a trail of fluid heat along suddenly sensitive ribs to glide beneath the half shirt and it's glittering mesh, K paused, a playful smile curling sensuous lips. He gave Yohji enough time to gather his shredded awareness, a dawning light darkening the green in his eyes. "Don't move, bouya, I like unwrapping my presents."

Alarm burst bright as New Year's fireworks. "I'm not your fucking present!" Yohji tried to pull away, but K wasn't having any. He tangled Yohji's arms in the shirt and wound his arm around his waist, effectively immobilizing him. Keeping his hand flat, he rubbed the palm with its sandpaper roughness in a flesh-prickling path back down Yohji's taut abdomen.

"Fuck!" Yohji twisted in K's grip, his naked torso rubbing against the soft shimmer of his shirt, his nipples hard pebbles of need.

K yanked Yohji's wrist tight against his body, staring hard into the wildly dilated eyes. "Don't make this difficult, bishounen." He locked their gazes. "This is what you came here for, isn't it?"

"I didn't come here to get raped!" Rigid as a cornered wildcat, Yohji's brain refused to process what was happening. He hadn't meant, hadn't wanted, wasn't --

As suddenly as the attack had begun, K released him. "You can't rape the willing." A hard, unforgiving shrewdness washed away the soft teasing expression. "Tell me a lie and you can walk right out of here."

Shame flushed Yohji's cheeks. He flicked an awkward glance in K's direction. He'd dated a few girls who had run hot and cold. It had given him a case of blue balls that would have made a monk curse and had left him both furious with them and irritated with himself. He'd never been cast as a prick tease before. "I can't," he said, his voice a bare whisper.

Nodding in approval, K tugged tight leather from Yohji's bony hips, peeling it down the long muscular legs, exposing unrepentant arousal. "That's better, baby."

Yohji glanced away, embarrassment mapping his body in soft color. He started when strong hands grasped his legs, massaging the powerful calves. K lifted first one foot, then the other, divesting him of his last vestiges of clothing. He fought the urge to cover himself with his hands; instead, he canted his hip, ignoring the rush of heat that action created and asked coyly, "You like what you see?"

"More than like."

Something in K's hot admiration made Yohji acutely aware of his nakedness in a way he had never been before. K's gaze was as diametrically opposed to the vicious looks Aya often shot him, as summer was from winter.

Standing slowly, K slid his palms up Yohji's legs, twin brands of heat searing the flesh of his hips. Pulses of pleasure tore through him. As if with a mind of its own, his cock twitched, eagerly seeking to draw K's attention.

Shit. Awareness was a living thing crawling across his skin in the wake of a heat trail. He was completely naked, shorn of his protective coloring and laid bare in so very many ways before the still fully clothed American.

He'd been undressed around guys before, in gym, at school, even at home above the Koneko. Hell, there had been a time or two when he and Ken or Omi had shared the bath above the flower shop. It wasn't that uncommon. He'd never reacted this way around anyone but Aya! He clutched at these snatches of memory desperately, not quite ready to face the knowing look burning across him. Since when had he and Omi exchanged places as the resident innocent?

His eyes lingered on K. Long streamers of sun-colored hair had come loose from the ponytail in their struggles, giving the American a rakish look. The shirt was un-tucked and unbuttoned, revealing the pale expanse of K's powerfully built chest and dusky colored nipples pricked into tiny hard points. "K." Intensity and desire choked Yohji. "Take off your clothes." He wanted to see this man, more, he wanted to be on some kind of equal footing with him.

"Not yet."

"What?" Yohji's voice cracked. He couldn't believe it. All this and K wasn't going to follow through? He would kill him. "I thought that's what we came here for," he snapped.

"That's better, bishounen." K winked.

The man was fucking with him. Standing stripped and needy, erection painfully obvious, Yohji found himself just staring at K, torn between laughter and indignation.

K gave him a long considering smile, mischief lurking in the corners of his mouth. "It looks like you could use a little help, here, lover." He ran a light finger along the underside of Yohji's arousal.

"Temee! Stop playing with me!" What had been meant to come out as an angry snarl, came out as a breathless gasp.

K's brows raised. "But what if I don't want to?" With the care of a blind man learning to read Braille, his fingers whispered across Yohji's quivering thigh, then moved up along the crease between thigh and groin. Gifted, they danced in a teasingly light caress around testicles drawn tight against Yohji's body.

Yohji arched into the touch until he was almost on his tiptoes. He made a soft sound of protest in the back of his throat, forcing out hoarse words. "You're a fucking tease!"

"You think?" K smirked as he continued to fondle Yohji's genitals. He kept the touches light, fleeting, inviting. Inciting the lust in Yohji to flare hotter.

"Asshole...finish it, damn you." Yohji grabbed K's hand, curling their fingers together around his erection.

"Tch..." K tsked, twisting his hand around in a move that captured Yohji's, forcing it away from his painful arousal. "I think it's my turn, bishounen. I've waited so patiently for my reward." He gave Yohji a lascivious look.

"You're so fucking lucky I don't just deck you."

"Try it." K struck a pose, hip out, chin tilted in challenge.

Frustration more than true fury made Yohji clench his fist and throw a punch. K easily sidestepped, ducking underneath his reach with amazing speed. He tossed the assassin onto his shoulder, then staggered under his weight.

Yohji gave an indignant squawk. "Put me down, you idiot!"

K laughed. "Behave or you'll send us both to the floor." He smacked Yohji's upturned ass smartly, leaving a red handprint on the pale golden flesh.

Yohji yelped, not so much from the sharp sting of contact as from the shaft of pure pleasure that darted straight to his cock. Humiliation ran its course, leaving embarrassed exhilaration thrumming in its wake. Cursing violently under his breath, his struggles increased in intensity as they neared the bed looming both invitingly huge and ominous.

"I'm so gonna fucking kill you!" Yohji couldn't quite keep a touch of hysterical laughter from causing his voice to quaver.

"Not tonight, bishounen. Me and the little major have other plans."

Little major? Yohji spluttered in an attempt to swallow the surprised laughter, he was not going to encourage the horrible American. Squirming about, he gave K an incredulous look.

As they stumbled toward the bed, his struggles overbalanced them both and true to K's prediction, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and laughter. K rolled them, managing to come out on top, Yohji spread beneath him like some virgin sacrifice.

Spearing him with a look of unadulterated heat, K gently brushed damp strands of hair from Yohji's face. Yohji's laughter died slowly leaving his eyes shining and the shadow of a smile curving his lips.

Lowering his head slowly, K gave Yohji ample time to pull away.

He didn't.

It occurred to him then that he actually liked K. That startling fact held him absolutely immobile, though he could not control the guilty flush that stole across his face.

Surrender tasted sweet. Yohji cursed softly, accepting that it wasn't K that held him helpless so much as his own wanting. "K'so. Why do you have to be so sexy?"

Understanding and gentle compassion invaded K's eyes, a smile of incredible tenderness softening the lustful gaze to something other--too pure and too intimate for Yohji to name. "It's a curse," K answered seriously, before brushing his lips in the merest of touches against Yohji's mouth.

"Ch'--" Yohji murmured, parting his lips in invitation.

The kiss that followed was different from others K had teased, tantalized and forced upon him, though no less inflammatory. He coaxed Yohji's response from him, tongue exploring the contours of his mouth, encouraging Yohji to return the caress.

A soft groan murmured between them as Yohji returned the gentle kiss, sealing their lips in a heated union. They broke apart at last, reluctantly, K's hands cupping Yohji's face as he searched for an answer to an unspoken question. Touching his lips, K smiled wistfully, "You are one sweet addiction, bouya."

Yohji looked away, the look in K's eyes too raw, too personal to be shared between two strangers. He thought sex between men was supposed to be rough, primal, with a savagery that was never turned on women. He wasn't ready to deal with such barefaced exposure, used as he was to hiding behind a mask.

"It's okay, baby," K whispered against his lips.

"No." Yohji wasn't sure what he was protesting anymore, only that he didn't think anything would ever be okay again. Whether it was going to be better or not, he wasn't sure. All he knew was it felt as if he was being pushed over a precipice and there was no net below.

His chest tightened as K slithered down his body, paying homage to his jaw and throat with a trail of kisses that made Yohji ache deep in his heart. Caresses explored his chest, warm lips worshiped heaving flesh. When K nuzzled the soft fold of his arm, Yohji gave a breathless laugh, squirming at the ticklish sensation and the gathering fire in his groin.

Huffing, K peered at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes, tracing a curious finger around the hard peak of a nipple. The effect was electric; Yohji arched upward begging for more and K obliged, giving the pert brown bud a pinch.

A garbled noise escaped Yohji's lips.

Shaking his hair out of his face, sliding down further, expression intent, K explored a path across Yohji's body.

Writhing, Yohji rubbed his burgeoning arousal against K with building desperation. K proved himself as adept at inciting him to passionate rebellion as he had at the club. Soft knowing touches feathered across his thighs as K nosed through the bed of damp curls nestled in wild disarray about the powerful erection. Firm lips caressed and cajoled in a pre-ordained path of sensual delight, sending fractured sensations scattering savagely through Yohji. Brief flares of pain transmuted to unbearable pleasure as K nipped and suckled the demanding flesh between his legs. Yohji writhed against the silk comforter in utter abandon, his breath a harsh rasp that tore at his throat. His legs fell open, an invitation to K's wicked tongue.

Fingers pierced him, the shock of cool gel-covered digits probing a heretofore-sacrosanct area of his body. Yohji arched up and away as he cried out. Not giving him time to react to the unfamiliarity, K lowered his head. Hair like warm silk spilled across the assassin; quivering body drawn taut, Yohji's eyes fluttered closed.

K nuzzled the soft furred sacs drawn into hard tight orbs against Yohji's body. Bliss rocked through him, needy sounds catching in his throat. Hands blindly sought K, twisting in the glorious mass of hair that flowed between them.

Bathing him with his tongue, K traced a path from where his fingers delved deep into Yohji's thrashing body, across the sensitive expanse of flesh to his balls, pausing long enough to suck until Yohji's hips were thrusting frantically upward, K's name a pleading prayer chanted in escalating volume.

Too lost in wanton sensation to be embarrassed by an inherent sensuality that a perfumed courtesan would envy, small cries of entreaty then spilled unchecked from Yohji's lips. He gave a beseeching cry as K's fingers left him; suddenly feeling bereft and cast aside on a turbulent sea of desire threatening to drown him.

Somewhere in K's maddening, teasing worship he had removed his clothing. The knowledge sheared through Yohji as a shock of skin on skin, K sliding naked and trembling with restrained need full-length against him. K's erection was a hard unyielding pulse against Yohji's hip.

K pried Yohji's hands from his hair. Curling his fingers around slim wrists, he forced Yohji's arms up until he lay splayed and arching beneath him, muscles clearly delineated beneath silken flesh.

"Onegai!" Yohji plead, writhing desperately beneath K. "Onegaisamasu!"

A heavy lidded gaze surveyed Yohji's desperation. Yohji spread his legs, casting K a wanton look filled with desire and need.

"Now I'm going to fuck you," K purred, hooking one arm beneath Yohji's knee and pushing the leg back nearly to his shoulder.

Shock stole his breath, words spilling across him in a raging storm. "Gods." Yohji swallowed convulsively. "Gods." It was a plea, a soft sound of protest and entreaty in one. He'd known all along that this moment would come. Now that it was here, he wasn't any surer of what he wanted than he had been in his hazy nighttime fantasies.

Unable to vocalize this, heat and shame mixed in equal measure. He trembled, feeling the strain on his back as K knelt, a pagan god between widespread thighs, hair falling unbound in a stream of gold about his face and shoulders, sweat glistening on his chest.

K's heated blue gaze scorched Yohji, possessed him--demanded abject surrender. He could only gaze back helplessly.

One-handed, K squeezed gel from a clear bottle, tossing it aside with casual disregard, his entire focus locked on Yohji. Slicking the substance over his erection, he gave a sharp hiss, eyes shuttering until the barest hint of boiling blue glimmered from beneath heavy lids.

Tongue darting out to wet dry lips, the blade of fear twisted. K's fingers had been uncomfortable. His cock looked huge in comparison.

"Relax, bouya. It'll make it easier." K's words dripped with strain as he hefted Yohji's leg higher.

To be held open and exposed in such a fashion caused Yohji to blush uncontrollably. His heart slammed in panicked flight against his chest. "You have got to be kidding!" Nothing would make this easier. Need and desire shattering his self-image and leaving him playing the wanton, panting whore for another man? He screwed his eyes shut, fear constricting his throat. He made a small sound.

"Shh," K murmured, "I don't want to hurt you."

It didn't keep the American from placing the blunt head of his cock against Yohji's opening. Yohji's breath came in short sharp bursts. He wanted to scream at K to stop, but it was too late, K was forcing himself against the tight ring of muscle protecting the entrance to his body. He squirmed uncomfortably, his muscles spasming in a vain attempt to force the invader out.

K made a soft uncontrollable sound, his grip tightening, spreading Yohji impossibly wider. A dull ache suffused Yohji's spine, as K pushed slowly, inexorably forward. A sigh of relief like the eye of a storm trembled between them when K finally came to rest, his bulk buried deep within the recesses of Yohji's body.

Yohji couldn't open his eyes. He was afraid to see himself mirrored in K's fathomless gaze. He didn't know whom he would see.

"Yohji."

Ignoring K seemed best. Pretending he didn't have a dick shoved ten feet up his ass seemed easier than accepting what he had allowed to happen. It felt like he was being forged, melted and shaped and changed in some deep, earth shattering way.

"Yohji!" K gave a tiny thrust of his hips, voice laced with strain.

Yohji cracked open his eyes. "Liar," he croaked harshly.

Giving a relieved grin, K shook the hair from his face. Hooking Yohji's legs over his shoulders, he leaned forward on his hands, sliding deeper into Yohji's body. "No more than necessary, bishounen."

Yohji wriggled uncomfortably. The pain had muted to a constant dull ache, his insides felt impossibly stretched around the hot pulsating bulk filling him. He licked sweat from his lip. K made a small, abortive movement that sent a shiver of anticipation weaving erratically through Yohji's belly. "Move, do something!"

"My pleasure, bouya." K withdrew slowly. "Look at me," he growled, as he carefully pushed forward. "I don't want you pretending I'm a woman."

Giving a small, pained laugh, Yohji grimaced, eyes cracking open just the tiniest bit wider, "I don't think that will be a problem, K." Not with what felt like fucking fifteen inches of man meat impaling him. He could feel every throbbing molecule, his muscles clenching involuntarily as the intruder renewed its violation. K began a slow, gentle rocking of his hips, eyes hot on Yohji, refusing to be abandoned alone to pleasure.

"Shit." Yohji fought to relax, sweat rolling down the side of his face. It hurt. It was uncomfortable as hell. It was the most powerful connection he had ever felt with another human being. With K moving slowly inside him, their gazes locked, stripping Yohji of all pretense.

It was more intimate than anything he had ever done. He was indelibly marked. Shattered. He couldn't look away from K.

Apparently satisfied, K twisted his hips, altering the angle of penetration. Plunging deeper, he struck something, sending white-hot ecstasy tumbling through Yohji's stretched and aching body. A shocked cry froze in his throat, his hips surging upward.

"That's it, baby, now I'm gonna make you sing." K thrust again, rolling his hips.

Blinding ecstasy cascaded through him, pouring through his body like rushing floodwater, sweeping everything before it in a raging tide of pleasure. Yohji cried out again and again as K picked up his rhythm.

The American folded Yohji nearly in half, leaned heavily on his arms, muscles bulging as lean hips thrust sharply, plundering Yohji's depths.

Damp hair fell about them like a mass of tangled sunlight, a veil between reality and lust weaving their own private sanctuary. Sweat rolled down K's face, dripping onto Yohji's chin, whose tongue flickered over the moist drop, tasting salt. Groaning, K sealed his mouth to Yohji's, tongue mimicking the motions of his cock.

Pain and pleasure merged into a single litany of sensation. He thrashed, helpless to gain his release, held prisoner to K's whims as the man ground into him. "Onegai...onegai...K...," Yohji begged, reduced to little more than torn whimpers.

K wrapped his large palm around Yohji's erection, tugging insistently. It didn't take long once K began stroking him, quick, harsh jerks demanding his obedience. "Sing for me, Yohji," K commanded, slamming deep into his writhing body.

Bliss crashed through him, threatening to white out his sanity. He yowled like an alley cat, body twisting and bowing in ungainly captivity. Thoughts fractured and fell scattered on the currents of pleasure that poured through him, around him, over him, dragging him powerless in the wake of ecstasy.

One more thrust and K shouted Yohji's name even as he went rigid above him. It felt as if K's erection thickened impossibly, sending pulsing waves of heat scorching into the depths of his body, indelibly marking him in ways he was too exhausted to explore.

K slumped forward, releasing his legs. Yohji gave a protesting mewl as K's softening erection slipped from his body with a soft sucking sound. His back hurt and the muscles in his legs cramped. A thin trickle of liquid oozed out onto the sheets. K licked the cooling ejaculate from Yohji's stomach.

Yohji's belly fluttered, more reflex than nervousness. He steadfastly refused to think about any of it. Moving awkwardly, he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He winced as he hit a tangle. It would take an hour or more to get rid of the snarls. Tomorrow. Tonight, he was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. His mind had simply been put on hold. He would think about everything tomorrow.

Or not.

He found wry humor in wondering if K would offer cab fare back to the Seven.

"Where do you think you're going, koibito?"

Blinking, "'s late, gotta go home," Yohji slurred, more than half asleep as he sat hunched like a lost child in the middle of K's bed.

"Don't." K threw an arm about Yohji's waist, dragging him back down, planting small, comforting kisses along his neck and jaw. "Stay." He kissed Yohji's eyes shut. "Stay, bouya." Kissing the corner of his mouth, K whispered, his voice curling warm and persuasive around him. "Stay the night, Yohji."

Yohji rarely stayed the night. The entreaty wormed its way through the chinks of self-preservation, enticing him with the raw power of promised warmth to a life lived empty.

Blinking sleepily, he allowed K to pull him closer. "M'be a little longer."

"Arigatou gozaimasu, lover." K wrapped himself around Yohji protectively, like they really were lovers and not just a casual fuck between two strangers. A strange yearning awakened in the darkness of Yohji's heart, a painful ache better left unexplored.

Surrender seemed so much easier this time.

Owari