Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ Tell him about it ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito and whoever else may apply . . . I'm using them for a nonprofit sex romp.

Someone was close to him. Aya could sense a body, looming over him. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel the pressure of the body, could sense someone looking at him. Aya wanted them to stop. He felt vulnerable. Was he naked? He didn't know. His fingers moved a bit, his hand resting over his chest. He felt a shirt pull against his flesh, and bedcovers shift a bit over the top of his hand. The sheets were pulled up to his collarbone, one arm pulled out and laying by his side on top of the comforter. Aya felt relieved, the shirt giving him a level of protection, the sheets making him feel secure. Yet, at the same time, Aya felt ashamed for feeling this pathetic and in this much need. He was a man, he wasn't supposed to feel ashamed or like he needed protection. He was supposed to be able to take care of himself.

"You awake?" A voice asked, sounding very tired. They didn't seem to expect a response. Aya was aware that his eyes were open. A ceiling came into focus, white staccato blurring once before he could clearly make out what his eyes were seeing. His left eye was open slightly wider then the other, both of them burning and aching painfully. He winced at the pain, becoming aware that he could feel his body and it was moving for him. Slowly, painfully, but he could control his limbs. Every joint felt cold and frozen, the blood making a hard knot, yet his body was painfully hot, only the back of his neck sweating.

"Hey, Aya, you okay?" The voice connected to memory and Aya realized it was Yohji. Aya was in Yohji's room, he could tell by the arrangement of alcohol bottles for the room's decor, the musty and clinging scent of cigarettes burning his nose. There was an IV on a mobile unit, a pack of blood dripping into a needle connected to his elbow. Aya felt a surge of fear at the needle. He didn't care if it was blood anymore, he just wanted the needle out.

Yohji grabbed the hand that went for the needle, though not roughly. It was very gentle, gripping him lightly at the elbow, restraining him. Aya could have broken the hold easily, but he stiffened, like a deer in the headlights that couldn't possibly move out of the way in time. He realized that the hand Yohji stopped had three broken fingers, all of them set, the last three digits taped together. His wrist was round and comically fat with bandages covering up to his forearm. His elbow was the only place Yohji could hold without hurting Aya.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Aya snarled, ripping his arm out of Yohji's grip. Yohji could have easily held him, but he let Aya go. Aya knew this, and it irritated and scared him at the same time.

Yohji leaned back in his chair, easily defeated. His eyes were bloodshot, bruises forming under them. His hair was mussed and frazzled in a loose ponytail, half of it already coming out. It was obvious that he had been watching over Aya the whole time, doing the same old routine of refusing to go to sleep or eat or something ridiculous like that until Aya woke up. Aya hated him, especially Yohji's show of true concern or such. It made Aya confused and he began to think about things that he didn't like to think about, so Aya preferred to ignore Yohji then ever let it come up.

"It's the last one you need, okay? I promise we'll get that out of you, just let this one finish off, okay?" Yohji bartered gently, letting Aya curl up protectively. He tried to roll to get his back to face Yohji but the IV tugged his elbow and his ankle lolled off a pile of pillows, causing him to hiss in pain.

"Just stay down, okay. I'll fix it," Yohji ordered, his temper very finely held in. Aya didn't want Yohji to fix anything. He wanted him out of the room. Aya snorted at Yohji and laid flat on his back, the mattress yielding to his body like his own bed never would. It was soft and warm. Aya felt like it was swallowing up. He wouldn't mind dying like this.

Yohji pulled back the sheets on Aya's feet and began to fluff the pillows back into shape, pounding one out before setting it down again. Aya stiffened and his left hand was the only one able to grip the sheets in his hand as he tried not to scream at Yohji to get away from him. Yohji's hand reached for the bottom of his calf and Aya was tempted to kick him in the face. The leg was lifted and placed down on the pillows. Yohji pulled the covers over his chilled toes and tucked the sheets into the bed frame. Aya relaxed a bit, knowing that the sheets could keep Yohji from touching him.

Yohji returned to sitting in the wooden chair by the tableside. He didn't light up a cigarette. He didn't take a drink of alcohol that would usually be on the bedside. Yohji just watched him. Aya became aware of the fact that he had must have nearly died. Yohji wouldn't be this concerned. If it was any other kind of injury, they would have been fighting by now and Yohji would be on the way to a club, both of them pissed off beyond normal human capacity. Aya didn't exactly like the attention. He didn't want to owe Yohji anything for this display of emotion. He didn't want, nor deserved a relationship.

Yohji sighed, causing Aya to glare at him. He reacted naturally, letting his anger edge out his barriers, just in case Yohji even had a vague idea in the back of his head. Aya didn't want any kind of attention from Yohji, unless it was honest irritation. He was safe with that emotion. It was easier to provoke Yohji into hating him then it would to try and accept that Yohji cared for him.

"Fuck, Aya, I'm sick of your little game. I'm not playing. You're going to tell me what the fuck happened . . ." Yohji started up, slamming one hand on top of the covers.

"I'm not going to tell you anything," Aya snarled right back, infuriated that Yohji was going to try and order him around. Especially after what he told him right before walking off. Aya hated that Yohji closed off the opportunity for a last word and left him hanging, feeling angry and stung by his insults that were a bit too true.

"Fine, fuck, I don't care anymore," Yohji snapped tiredly. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. He didn't care anymore? Like he ever cared in the first place. Still, that comment smarted more then Aya would have wished. Aya glared at Yohji, who glared right back at him. Oh, Aya wished he could move so he could hit Yohji. Hit him hard.

They scowled at each other, neither of them ready to say anything to break the silence. The room didn't change, the orange light of a setting sun still making the room bright. Yohji's window was open, and there was still a cigarette burning in the ashtray on the windowsill. Aya watched as the smoke lazily drifted up, slowly trying to escape into the world. No breeze came along to disturb it.

Aya shifted a bit in the bed. His back hurt from laying on it. He wondered how long he had been out. Hell would freeze over before he asked Yohji how long. Aya tried to move to the left, trying to find a more comfortable position. He couldn't move very much in the bed, nor did any of his shifting make it any better.

"You want some help?" Yohji offered, though it sounded like he'd rather help Aya to an early grave. Aya bit off the initial 'fuck off' by a bare second. It galled him that he required help, but at this point it was necessary.

"I could use it," Aya stated, trying to make it clear that he would want it from anyone but Yohji. Yohji looked floored that Aya had even admitted that he needed help, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide.

"What do you need?" Yohji asked, very carefully. Being agreeable was obviously not what Yohji thought of Aya.

"I just want to sit up," Aya said, still laying on the bed. He tried to move, tried to get the muscles to listen to his request to sit up, but his chest burned with the effort and his sides stiffened into hard knots. Yohji put a hand on his shoulder. Aya immediately tensed, affronted that Yohji would put his hands on him without even asking for a by your leave.

"Just stay down, okay," Yohji ordered. He stood up and moved his hand over Aya's shoulder, behind his neck, and down to a spot between his shoulder blades. Yohji lifted up Aya's upper body with that hand and held him up. He arranged the pillows quickly with his other hand, setting them against the bed head, before putting both hands under Aya's arms.

"Let go!" Aya ordered, mortified when Yohji hauled him up the bed like a child. Yohji didn't listen, just merely propped Aya's body up against the pillows. He moved back, into his chair again. Yohji didn't say anything and Aya would rather eat glass then say thank you. Aya turned back to the window. The cigarette had burned out.

* * *

"Do you hear anything?" Ken hissed excitedly.

"Shut up, I can't hear anything over you," Omi whispered back, pressing his ear into the door. They were both plastered to Yohji's door, Omi prepared with a drinking glass squashed against his ear and held to the door. Ken held his breath, trying to hear better.

"It doesn't sound like anything is going on," Ken reported, looking down at Omi accusingly.

"I swear, I heard someone say 'fuck,' so they've got to be talking," Omi reasoned. He had been walking by the door when he heard someone inside the room curse. Omi, naturally, ran and got Ken to listen in. They had both decided that Yohji and Aya would definitely be good together. Something about their being opposites drew them together. Even more so, now that Ken and Omi were definitely a couple. As soon as the doctor had declared Aya stable and had walked out the door, Ken and Omi had picked up right where they were interrupted.

"Omi, why are you blushing? Did they say something?!" Ken demanded, his voice raising. Omi suspected Ken was hard of hearing because he couldn't stay quiet.

"No, Ken-kun, you dumb ass! Now be quiet," Omi ordered. They hadn't really gone far at all. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Omi tried to rationalize as he adjusted the glass. They hadn't even lost their clothes . . . yet . . .

"Omi, what are you thinking about? You're turning neon red or something," Ken said loudly, in his usual honest self. Omi felt his ears burn as Ken stared at him.

"God, Ken-kun, you are so loud!" Omi yelled at him, trying to force the attention somewhere else.

"What are you two doing out here?" Yohji demanded, flinging the door open. Omi fell down on his side, his support suddenly gone. Ken smiled and scratched his head as the glass rolled across the floor. The three of them watched it until it softly bumped into the door.

"Auuuh . . . Hah, hello, Yohji-kun," Omi smiled up at Yohji.

"Don't 'hello' me, you little creep," Yohji snapped, resting one arm against the frame of the door. He was obviously royally pissed off at them, but at the same time Yohji had a smirk on his face. Omi tried to give his best wide-eyed smile as he crawled around Yohji's legs and bounced up.

"Oh, Aya-kun, you're up!" Omi declared, clapping his hands together. Aya was sitting up in the bed, pillows propping him up. His hands were in his lap, the IV still hooked into his arm. Aya was staring out the window, his face blank and tired looking. The gaze slowly drifted to Omi and a small, slight smile was given greeting. Omi stared at the damaged to Aya's face, the swelling taking away from the beauty of Aya's eyes. The injuries seemed even worse on Aya's face, his striking features still showing through.

"Aya's awake? All right, Aya!" Ken cheered, pushing past Yohji and into the room.

"Hey, don't change the subject!" Yohji roared, still trying to get them for eavesdropping.

"What are you talking about, Yohji-kun?" Omi asked, blinking at Yohji. Yohji stopped, completely outmaneuvered. He put a hand to his head and pulled on his hair a bit.

"Fine, fine, okay? You win, all right?" Yohji sighed, moving over to Omi. He leaned close to Omi's ear, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But if I ever catch you and Ken making noises . . ."

Yohji never got to finish his threat. Omi blushed crimson, again, and began to talk loudly in an effort to stop Yohji from being able to get a word in. "So, Aya-kun, feeling better? Does anything hurt? I'm sure it probably does, never mind. That was a stupid question. Ha ha. Okay, so are you hungry, I could get you something . . ."

"I'm fine, Omi," Aya said rather quietly, cutting off Omi's babble. Omi stopped, looking at Aya. He seemed subdued, very tired. He looked beaten, both physically and emotionally.

"Oh, Aya-kun," Omi murmured, pity for his teammate welling up. Aya's eyes narrowed at the tone and he got the custom burn-in-hell glare from Aya. Omi smiled at Aya's show of anger. For some reason, it assured him when Aya became mad. It meant he was still Aya.

"I'm going to go to the kitchen," Yohji drawled. "You guys keep an eye on Mr. Invincible, okay?" Aya glared even harder at Yohji, definitely pissed off at the comment. Yohji smirked at Aya and turned to leave the room.

"Omi, would you make sure that Yohji doesn't get his dick stuck in something on the way to the kitchen?" Aya asked politely, very monotone. Omi felt his mouth drop. A vein in Yohji's forehead popped, and it was obvious that whatever small amount of patience he had was gone.

"Hey, now, come on, you guys," Ken started, trying to soothe both men. Aya and Yohji both turned their stares on Ken, who gulped and became interested in a wall. Ken made jerking motions at Omi, trying to say they should leave. Omi was shocked that Yohji and Aya were arguing like a married couple, throwing insults back and fourth through a third person. But, Aya's fierce insult assured Omi that he was on the way to a recovery.

"Say, uh, Ken-kun, let's go . . . get dinner!" Omi suggested, the idea tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. Omi wasn't really hungry. Yohji and Aya were glaring hotly at Omi, both of them aware that Omi was trying to get away from them.

"But, it's only four, I'm not hungry yet," Ken answered, questioning Omi with his eyes. Then his expression changed as he realized what Omi was trying to do. "OH! Dinner," Ken announced, as if trying to cover up his confusion. Yohji slapped a hand to his forehead. Omi could have strangled Ken.

"Yeah, dinner, boy, am I hungry!" Ken laughed loudly, slinging an arm around Omi's shoulders. "Let's go, eat, eat, eat!" Ken began to march out of the room, dragging Omi with him. Yohji followed them out, leaving the door open.

"Don't worry. We'll get you guys something, too!" Ken promised as they went down the hallway.

"Do you want anything, Yohji-kun?" Omi asked gently, trying to be sensitive to Yohji after Aya's comment. Yohji tore his gaze away from Aya and looked at Omi like he had been threatened. Omi took a step back instinctively and Yohji shook his head, jerking himself out of his daze.

"Don't worry about it. I can make something here. Just bring back some alcohol," Yohji ordered, his eyes focusing on something else.

"Hey, we could party! Let's celebrate Aya being awake and talking . . . sort of," Ken trailed off, thinking about his words. Yohji looked at Ken strangely.

"Celebrate what? Either way, he's not going to be the same after he's better," Yohji snapped. It was obvious that he had been thinking about Aya's injuries all day long.

"Yohji-kun, calm down. We can't do anything until Aya's ready to talk to us," Omi reminded Yohji. "It's okay to be upset, but right now, there's nothing we can do."

Yohji made a fist, taking in Omi's words. He released it with a sigh and visibly slumped. Omi and Ken watched Yohji, both of them ready for him to punch them. Yohji was filling up the hallway with tension. Yohji's hand reached out and Ken's arm tensed around Omi's shoulder.

"You're right, you little shit," Yohji agreed affectionately, tousling Omi's hair. Omi winced away. He hated it when people messed with his hair. He suddenly felt so much younger then Yohji.

"You guys have fun, okay? You don't need to come back early or anything. Just play around," Yohji waved them off, a smile plastered on his face.

* * *

Yohji reached into the refrigerator. He had been spending all day long staying slightly drunk and watching over Aya. Now that Aya had decided to wake up and be a complete asshole, Yohji only felt obligated to get into a rip-snorting fight with him. He grabbed a six-pack of Pepsi and beer. Yohji stacked them on top of each other, then opened up the freezer. He dug behind the TV dinners and frozen vegetable boxes before he came up with his treasure. The tequila was still full, the bottle unopened.

Yohji felt happy with his score. He took a glass up with him and adjusted his load, carrying the cans in one hand and the glass in the other. The cup and bottle clinked together as he returned to Aya's room, humming to himself a bit. He wasn't very angry anymore. Yohji just didn't want to be mad at Aya anymore. Aya was already half-dead and he didn't need Yohji strangling the rest of his life out.

"Yo," Yohji greeted as he dumped the booze on the bed. Aya glared at him, then looked at the liquor and if anything glared harder. God, Aya was melting the glass with that look. Yohji set the glass on the nightstand and the liquor on the floor, just in case Aya decided to be pissy and push it all off the bed.

Aya didn't say a word as Yohji opened a can of Pepsi. It wasn't unusual. Yohji wasn't going to say one goddamn thing until Aya said anything. He was sick of trying to break the uncomfortable silence they had all the time. If Aya wanted to talk, he was going to have to start the conversation. Yohji may not be mad at Aya, but that didn't mean he had patience with him.

Yohji poured the tequila liberally into the Pepsi and watched as the liquids mixed together, making the drink a golden brown. If the world blew up, at least Yohji would have alcohol to help him. He glanced at Aya who was staring at him with a mix of confusion and interest. That expression was exchanged for a glare the second Aya noticed Yohji was looking at him.

Yohji capped the tequila and left it on the bed stand before taking a shot of it. The glass was too big for him to decently drink, but Omi had thrown out all of his shot glasses. Yohji had protested, but since Omi was the one who cleaned the kitchen, Omi won. The caffeine bubbled and the tequila burned as it went down his throat. He gasped when he swallowed, his stomach filling with warmth. He felt better already.

He took another swig with Aya staring at him, not saying a word. Yohji stared back, finishing off the glass. He slammed it down on the bed stand, mulling over if he should make another so soon. Deciding against it, he opened up a beer. The can foamed and he sucked off the bubbles until it stopped.

"Why?" Aya asked softly. Yohji wasn't sure he had spoken. He looked at Aya, trying to see if he had said anything.

"Why?" Aya asked again, a bit louder this time. Definitely irritated that he had to repeat himself.

"Why what?" Yohji shot back.

"Why are you drinking?" Aya demanded, looking flustered.

Because if I wasn't, I'd fucking kill you, Yohji considered saying. Was Aya even aware that he made Yohji go crazy? Yohji was constantly confused, pissed off, homicidal when he was around Aya unable to understand why Aya acted the way he did. Nor how anyone could say so little and yet be able to piss everyone off. It was like he had a skill with making people angry.

"You wanna join in?" Yohji slurred, using his 'seductive' voice, raising up the beer. A faint flush appeared on Aya's cheeks, barely visible. He probably couldn't spare the blood to blush at the moment. His pale skin made it seem much deeper then it was, though. Yohji was amused, rarely ever graced with a blush from Aya. Aya looked down at his hands, visibly gathering himself. When he looked back up, the blush was gone. His mouth opened and by the feeling in Yohji's stomach, he was going to say something along the lines of 'no fucking way.'

"Let's play a game," Yohji interrupted, before Aya could even breathe to say 'no.' He opened up another Pepsi and poured it for Aya, giving him a bit more tequila then soda. "You can ask me a question and I'll answer if you drink all of this," Yohji set out the rules, watching Aya carefully. Aya's glare lost a bit of its edge. His left hand reached out and took the glass from Yohji. He put his other hand around the glass's side, the cast around his fingers clanking against it.

"Well?" Yohji asked, impatient and pushing Aya.

"Why are you drinking?" Aya asked, staring into the drink as if it would answer him.

"Drink first," Yohji ordered, leaning onto his elbows on the bed. Aya glared at him. Aya turned back to the drink, his tongue coming out and licking one of the splits on his lips. Aya placed the glass against his mouth, then tipped it back. Yohji felt his mouth drop as Aya slammed the whole glass, his throat moving as Aya swallowed it in huge gulps, taking it down like a pro. Yohji didn't think Aya even knew how to drink. The glass was emptied and it was silent.

Then Aya began to cough, sputtering. "That's awful, how do you drink this shit?" Aya wheezed out, scraping his tongue against his teeth. Yohji took the glass, amused.

"The more you drink, the better it gets," Yohji explained. Aya gave him a disbelieving look. "Okay, you just don't care as much about the taste." Aya's expression didn't change. "Fuck, never mind, okay?" Aya sniffed and brought a hand up to scrub at his nose.

"So, why are you drinking?" Aya asked again.

"Christ, Aya, because I'm upset," Yohji explained. "You haven't so much as breathed around us for months, which is bad, even for you." Aya's mouth opened to argue, but Yohji kept going. "Then, you just show up on the back door with the shit beaten out of you and . . . and you were . . . Fuck, you won't even tell me what happened. You won't even tell me what has been happening . . ." Yohji stopped as he realized he was half standing, his hands reaching out to shake Aya. Aya was looking at his broken fingers. It was strange, for Aya. He would always make eye contact during a fight, always ready to head butt someone if they disagreed with him. For him to look down, to look so small and vulnerable, something was wrong. Yohji closed his mouth and sat down.

"Just forget it, okay?" Yohji requested, picking up his beer. He drained it in one motion, then crunched the can and tossed it to his trashcan. He made the five-foot toss and hooted, trying to ease the tension between them.

"My turn, right?" Yohji asked jovially. Aya looked up at him, his face schooled into an expressionless glare. Yohji smiled. "So . . . Do you have any tattoos?"

"What?" Aya snapped, confused. He was making eye contact again.

"Well, I mean, Ken saw it once, but I didn't believe him. A few months ago, he said you were doing laundry and took off your shirt to throw it in, and he said you had one. Ken said he couldn't see what it was, though, because you started yelling at him," Yohji explained, rushed in order to justify his inquiry against Aya's disgusted look.

It was silent when he finished. Aya looked ready to kill. Yohji was ready to fling himself away from the bed in case Aya suddenly decided to try and strangle him. Aya was still for a moment, and then reached for the edge of his shirt. The IV pulled and stretched as Aya lifted up the hem. He pushed down the drawstring pajamas and there, above the bandages over his hips, was a rose tattoo, placed just under his waistline, where it could be seen if he wore loose pants. But, Aya never wore anything revealing, so there wasn't any danger of them discovering the tattoo.

Yohji felt like he had let down his whole playboy's history by not noticing the tattoo sooner. It was about the length of Yohji's thumb, very small considering. Yohji couldn't believe that he didn't notice it sooner, when they were cleaning him up, hell, the first time Aya ever flashed a hint of skin around that area. Yohji stared at the tattoo, the blood-red petals blooming on Aya's skin, the stem dotted with several thorns.

"Fuck. Ken is going to flip when I tell him," Yohji said out loud.

"You're not going to tell him," Aya ordered, yanking up the pants and pulling the sheets up, the show over.

"When did you get it? Why? Jesus, Aya, you're the last person I would have thought had a tattoo. God, I thought Ken was seeing things. I can't believe you have one. When did you get it?" Yohji asked, excited. He had discovered a new facet to Aya. One that was a little bit normal, a side that enjoyed things that Yohji enjoyed.

"Are we still playing?" Aya asked, gesturing to the empty glass.

"Fuck, yes, we are. Now I've got a lot more questions," Yohji asserted, opening another can of Pepsi.

* * *

"We're hoooommeeee!" Omi sang out into the kitchen. No answer. Ken pushed Omi through the door, obviously impatient about waiting on the back step. Omi laughed and set the

to-go bag on the kitchen. They had gotten Italian, with garlic bread. Omi loved garlic bread. It was his only weakness in life. He was already untying the plastic knot and taking out the box.

"Geez, Omi, be patient, let me get some silverware," Ken admonished as Omi took a bite. Ah, this was heaven. Ken poked him in the side and Omi yelped, not expecting it.

"Omi, set the bread down and wait for me to get everything out," Ken ordered in a very serious voice.

"But, Ken-kun, I'm hungry now," Omi pleaded, shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth. Ken rolled his eyes and turned around, getting plates out. Omi chewed through the bread, his cheeks puffing out with how much he had rammed into his mouth. He had to open his mouth to fit his teeth around it.

"Omi, you looking like a little monkey chewing with your mouth open," Ken laughed at Omi, serving up their dinner.

"What?!" Omi yelled, swallowing the rest. "Take that back!"

"No way!" Ken declared, gesturing with a fork.

"Take it back, you stupid soccer fanatic," Omi demanded, unable to come up with a biting reply. Ken looked at Omi with amusement, the comment obviously not hitting any marks.

"Never, you monkey," Ken swore, laughing.

Omi launched his attack, throwing himself on Ken's back and wrapping an arm around his neck. Ken immediately started gasping, taking Omi's elbow in one hand and tried to pry him off. Omi held on, grasping his wrist with his other hand to keep Ken from overpowering him. However, Ken outmaneuvered him. Ken dropped backwards, falling to the floor and onto Omi. Omi coughed with the impact and his grip was lost. Ken was already on him, tickling him.

Omi screamed and began to wriggle across the linoleum, trying to get away from Ken. Ken sat on Omi's legs, keeping him restrained and continued with the tickling. Omi screamed again, throwing his hands out wildly. He managed to get a grip on Ken's face and tried to push him away. Ken growled and turned up the tickling, getting on Omi's ribs, the worst spot of all.

"No, no! Ken-kun, stop! No!" Omi screamed, trying to talk through the laughter.

"Say you're sorry for having no manners!" Ken demanded, tickling a bit harder.

"NO!" Omi howled through the laughter. Tears were starting to form in his eyes. "NO! No, all right, I'm sorry!" Omi screamed, giving up. Ken stopped tickling him. Omi giggled, trying to regain his breath. Ken didn't move off of his legs.

"Ken-kun?" Omi asked, putting a hand on Ken's knee and trying to push him off. Ken leaned over Omi, putting a hand on the floor next to Omi's head. Omi stopped pushing at Ken's knee as he leaned in and kissed Omi on the kitchen floor, making his head thud against the floor.

Ken leaned back, smiling. His eyes were shining, and Omi lifted up his hands to reach Ken's upper shoulders, feelings so small and tiny under Ken. Ken's face came into full view, smiling just at him. Omi felt very loved, very protected at the moment. It was reassuring to know that Ken was smiling just at him. That Ken felt the same way he did. Ken began to kiss him passionately, grinding their lips together. It was stronger then any girl had ever kissed Omi, and Omi felt completely loved.

Ken's hand moved down against Omi's side, his palm making a path in Omi's shirt. It lifted under the shirt and began to caress his sides, Omi digging his hands into Ken's arms for a moment. Omi opened his mouth a bit, allowing Ken's tongue to enter. It wasn't foreign at all, like he had felt with other kisses. He welcomed it, the rough pressure on his mouth pressing his head against the floor. Omi's hands began to go at Ken's shirt, trying to lift it off.

Ken suddenly gasped into Omi's mouth and he jerked up, looking around the kitchen. Omi froze, thinking they had been discovered again. Ken looked down at Omi, then took his hand out of Omi's shirt as if it burned.

"Not here, I don't want anyone to interrupt," Ken explained huskily, moving off of Omi's legs. Apparently they had been thinking the same thing. Ken stood up, then grabbed Omi's forearm, jerking his body up. Omi jumped up to avoid Ken lifting him up by his arm. Ken took Omi's other arm in hand and dragged Omi's body against him, fiercely covering his mouth again, his teeth digging against Omi's lips.

Ken stopped, pulling away from Omi's face. Omi still had his eyes closed, ready for the next one, when Ken started to painfully drag Omi's body up the stairs.

"Ken-kun," Omi gasped, trying to wrestle his arm away. "I can walk, you know!" Omi said hotly, jerking harder at his arm when Ken only tightened his grip. Ken stopped at halfway between a step, his foot lifted in the air. Ken spun sharply and slammed Omi against the wall with his arm, kissing him savagely. Omi pressed a hand against Ken's chest, unable to push him back, trying to get breathing room.

Ken began to drag Omi up the rest of the stairs, hauling him after the last step. Ken wasn't even giving Omi a chance to regain his footing. Omi stared at Ken's back, unable to speak around the tightness in his throat. Omi gasped as Ken's back jerked in and out of his vision, the hallway wall coming into focus behind his head.

Ken stopped so suddenly that Omi was swung around to the front of him by the grip on his arm. Ken jerked his door open, throwing Omi inside. Omi stumbled, then gained his footing, staring at Ken in disbelief. He had just hauled Omi into his bedroom. Ken slammed the door closed and was already taking off his shirt as he stalked over to Omi.

Ken threw his shirt onto the floor and then ripped Omi's shirt off, making his arms lift up. The other shirt was thrown off and Ken wrestled Omi down to his bed, the back of his knees slamming into the edge of the mattress, making Omi fall heavily. Ken landed his weight across Omi's, throwing a knee between Omi's legs. Omi pushed at Ken's shoulders as Ken locked onto his mouth again, covering it with demanding kisses, pushing past Omi's teeth and burning his mouth with his tongue.

Omi sucked breath in through his nostrils, making little noises as he tried to push Ken away. Ken laughed into Omi, making his body vibrate with the breath of the laughter. Ken's mouth moved down over Omi's neck, sucking on his collarbone that jutted out. Omi gasped and put one hand on Ken's head, trying to push him off. Ken lifted his legs and got all the way onto the mattress, dragging Omi's legs up with his foot. Omi threw his ankles out and Ken straddled his legs again, pinning his limbs down like a wall. Omi struggled, embarrassed that he couldn't move against Ken's muscles, writhing against his body.

Ken's head moved down Omi's chest, capturing a nipple and suckling hard. Omi gasped and moved his hands down Ken's body, stopping at his pants and began to take them off, struggling with the button. Ken began to kiss Omi again, pushing his body up as he helped Omi's hands, pushing down at his jeans. He lifted one knee out of the jeans then threw out his other leg, shaking off the last of his clothing. Omi felt scared suddenly as Ken worked at Omi's pants, removing anything that would keep them from being naked in front of each other. Omi was embarrassed and suddenly trembled as he realized that this was his first time.

"Omi?" Ken asked, his voice low and quiet, his breath hard.

"N . . . Nothing, I, just . . ." Omi gasped, unable to explain. He couldn't speak. He couldn't summon the will power to tell Ken to slow down.

"It's okay. You can say when," Ken panted, sensing Omi's hesitation.

"Okay . . . Okay," Omi agreed, lifting his mouth up to reach Ken's. He didn't mean them to stop, just slow down. Ken returned his hands to Omi's sides, running them down to his hips slowly, then back up to show Omi that he could wait for him to say it was all right. Omi just wanted Ken to go back to him. He had just been confused for a moment. Omi wanted Ken to take control so he wouldn't have to think. He could regret it later.

Ken removed Omi's pants slowly, dislodging his mouth from Omi's to sit up. Ken slid Omi's pants down his legs and then hurled them to the floor. He stayed sitting, looking Omi's body up and down. Omi felt embarrassed, his face burning as Ken seemed to examine him. Omi wondered with a touch of terror and hysteria if Ken thought he might be small or something. He couldn't even imagine looking at Ken's erection, his eyes locked on Ken's face, the edges of his eyesight blurring.

Ken returned to Omi's face, kissing him across the lips and saying "You're perfect," enunciating each syllable with a kiss down his neck and chest, working to his groin. Omi gasped, realizing where Ken was going and shook, his hands trembling as they fisted the sheets together. Ken moved his mouth lower and Omi cried out before biting his lip, trying to stifle his gasps.

Ken looked at Omi, covered in sweat. His bangs were plastered to his forehead, his breath hot against Omi's stomach. Omi ran a hand through Ken's hair, his hand shaking. The room was lightly lit, the evening sun creating streams of orange that dust and sweat flew through and disappeared when they went into the shadows again. The bed was in the shadows, the windows letting in enough sunlight to see each other by. Omi licked his lips, anticipating what they were about to do.

* * *

"Do you . . . hear that?" Yohji slurred, wondering if he was already drunk enough to hear things. It sounded like little moans, and a while back it had been screaming laughter. Yohji was beginning to wonder if Ken and Omi acting like idiots at the same exact time had any connection to these new noises. But then again, Yohji could be finally tripping from drugs he had taken earlier in life.

Aya's head lolled on the pillows to look at Yohji's face. "Isss . . . that a question?" Aya trailed on, his 's's going on for much longer then usual. Definitely drunk. Aya didn't have very much alcohol, but he was already hammered. But, Yohji speculated, Aya didn't have nearly as much tolerance, nor blood, nor fat, nor experience for alcohol as Yohji had. Yohji could still drink more, but he had the last Pepsi being drunken straight, without a mix. Aya was completely drunk.

"No. My question is what happened," Yohji asked, seriously, ready to attempt to get answers now that Aya probably didn't even know where he was at the moment.

"What . . . happened . . . when?" Aya asked, his eyes closing in concentration. His lips pressed together, a sick and pale look on his face. Didn't like being out of control, did he? Aya was trying to make the world stop spinning and obviously failed. Yohji got closer to Aya's ear.

"What happened two nights ago? When you were raped?" Yohji asked, his voice trembling with the effort to keep his voice schooled. He had been raped. Yohji wanted to know why, and by whom. So he could kill them.

Aya stared at Yohji in shock, his mouth open and saying something that Yohji couldn't hear. Aya didn't expect that question right now. Yohji saw Aya's eyes glaze over and there was that frosty ice bitch look, even through the alcohol.

"I didn't mean to," Aya said quietly, shocking Yohji that he was going to explain something. "I . . . I just . . . You . . ." Aya shuddered, trying to phrase his words. "It was three months ago. I was walking. I was just walking down the side of the street, and it was the night, but it was early too, you know?" Aya stopped, looking at something Yohji couldn't see. He looked for a moment like he was going to be sick, and Yohji considered the fact that he might have given Aya too much.

"This man came up to me. He was in a suit, all neat, and asked me to join him for dinner. I said no. He told me his wife hadn't shown and he needed a date, so I was pretty, why not me?" Aya licked his lips, hesitating, trying to remain impassive and emotionless through the alcohol. Aya shook, and for a moment Aya was worried he would be sick, then he realized Aya was laughing. Aya was seriously drunk. Yohji was beginning to feel worried, Aya's soft giggles filling the room.

They slowly subsided, and Aya continued, his head rolling on the pillows with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out some of the sickness. "He asked me like I was some type of woman. I kept telling him no, and he kept asking me to. No, no, no, no, and he kept saying 'please, please!'" Aya repeated, concentrating on giving Yohji the details. "He told me he'd pay me. He offered a thousand just for me to stay through dinner with him . . ." Yohji nodded when Aya trailed off. Aya stared at Yohji and leaned close to him, as if about to tell a secret. "Aya-chan, you know how she went to Africa to help the children?" Yohji nodded, unsure of how this was going to connect together, but he had a sickening feeling in his stomach that told him it was probably the way he was thinking it would be.

"Aya-chan was a volunteer. She wasn't making any money!" Aya cried out, still incredulous, though proud, that someone was that nice in the world. "So, no money, and I'm just cutting flowers? She didn't have any money, and I was sending everything I could," Aya explained, trying to justify something. Yohji knew what they made at the flower store was ridiculous because those fan girls kept buying flowers as an excuse to be near them. They were so well off it seemed laughable. So, if he was sending even a third of the money, it would be a healthy amount. But, in Aya's guilt-ridden mind, it would probably never be enough to make up the hospital bills he paid with blood.

"So, I went. It was this business meeting and he just talked to the other guys 'bout stocks an' stuff . . ." Aya trailed off, licking his lips as the words became hard to form. "I spent dinner with him. He just laughed with the other men and I just had to sit there and pour a glass for him. Nobody talked to me. It was easy," Aya murmured. Yohji felt floored. He could remember proposing for a date on more then one occasion, and getting rejected the few times he thought it was still worth a shot. So, all some stranger did was offer money? Yohji almost was offended that he didn't think of it first. But, Aya was beginning to talk again, and Yohji didn't want to miss a moment of the sodden speech.

"It was easy. It wasn't even half of the night. He asked to do it again another time and I sssa . . . say 'yes!'" The 'yes' shot out like an answer to a question in school. Aya's eyes opened a bit wider for a moment, Aya trying to rouse himself. He was not one to go down easily, still fighting the alcohol. "So, I keep meeting this guy and he gives me money, and then his friends are asking to meet me and I go with them and they pay me so they just all have business meetings and receptions and I just stand next to them to whole time," Aya blathered, rambling in a manner that Yohji had never even imagined was possible. Yohji set the can down. He didn't trust himself to hold anything now.

"All I had to do was look pretty and they paid me. Then, some started offering more money if they could kiss me, or take off some clothing, nothing really serious," Aya explained, his voice hitching and he stopped for a burp, a great stench of alcohol blowing right in Yohji's face. Yohji considered again that he might have given Aya too much. Aya smiled darkly at his lack of composure before continuing. "S-Ssso, I went along. Then, somebody . . . Some jerk," he grunted, looking at Yohji for effect. "This guy finally asked for sex. He gave me so much money, right . . . right there, just a big wad right down my pants," Aya gave the detail excitedly, still amazed at that amount, his hands waving to the front of his groin.

"And, I mean, I didn't think it was anything cause I never had sex before, it was just going to be sex, so I took it and I said 'okay,'" Aya shrugged, still trying to look like he didn't care. Yohji definitely gave Aya too much if he had admitted to him that at one point in his life, he had been a virgin. Then anger flared, righteous and all consuming. Aya had sold his first time away to some dirty old businessman? Yohji's hands turned into fists. Aya was fucking beautiful, some piece of perfection that managed to walk into Yohji's life, and he hadn't suspected anything while Aya prostituted away his virginity?!

"So, we did it, and then from there they started asking all things, like dressing up for parties or wearing a tie while we did it, and they gave a . . .a shit load of money!" Aya cursed, obviously proud of using that profanity. "They paid me to wear a dress at the reception or to touch them at dinner, and nobody ever talked to me. I wasn't even there. They just gave me money."

Yohji closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear anymore. He couldn't trust himself to bear it. "So, what happened to me? What happened to me?" Aya echoed himself, his voice getting angry. "You come in on this fucking high horse and tell me I'm some prostitute, just a bitch, like you know a thing about it!" Aya screamed out, raging drunk, tears starting to come out of his eyes. Yohji stared. When had he ever said anything like that to Aya?

"So, fuck you, I don't take shit from you!" Aya sobbed, pressing the palms of his fists to his eyes, the bandaged hand unable to curl the fingers all the way. Aya hiccupped and only wept louder, the liquor heightening his depression.

Yohji leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aya's shaking figure. He screamed in rage and pushed at him, his hands flying out and an elbow bumping his jaw, Aya trying to struggle away. "No, get off me!" Aya tried to growl out, but it ended as a hysterical scream. He pushed at Yohji, trying to punch at him but not being able to move his arms enough to do it, the IV yanking at his elbow, Yohji's arms loosely holding him, trying to keep Aya from hurting himself. "NO! Get fucking off!" Aya screamed, slapping at Yohji's face, his knees lifting up as he tried to struggle away. Aya was unable to even move out of Yohji's stretched hands.

Aya was finished when he sobbed and crumpled against Yohji's chest, one hand still in a fist and hitting Yohji's chest softly. He had admitted to the fact that he wasn't strong enough to get away right now. Aya had to suffer through allowing someone to care for him, forced affections covering him. Yohji didn't really feel like he had won anything as Aya sobbed brokenly, trying to yell at Yohji but unable to, his mouth open as his back heaved with the gasps and hitched breaths, tears forming. Two drops hit Yohji's stomach and moistened his shirt against his skin as Aya's sodden eyes were buried into the fabric, Aya sniffing pathetically and fisting Yohji's shirt in one hand.

"Aya, I never said anything like that," Yohji hissed, furious that Aya would even accuse him of that, and yet his chest tightened with the pain Aya must have gone through. He put his hands on Aya's shoulders, holding him close like he would a brother. Aya just wept openly, unable to stop the tears as his shoulders shook violently. He pounded his head against Yohji's chest, trying to gain back emotional control but too tired and too drunk to do so. Blood was welling from the IV, the needle half pulled out in Aya's wrestling.

"Yes . . . you . . . did," Aya heaved, each word coming out between a hitched breath as he tried to stop crying. After forcing out the sentence, he cried louder, the tears coming faster after trying to hold himself together for a moment.

"When?" Yohji wailed against Aya's sobs, his fingers tightening on the shirt.

"L, l, l . . . last night . . . you said that . . . that, that I 'j-j-just wanna . . . wanna . . . whore out . . . those k . . . killing . . . servi-i-i-ces!" Aya wailed out, unable to speak coherently beyond the tears. He bubbled like a small child, sniffling and hiccupping now, reduced to weak sobs. Yohji vaguely remembered saying something like that to Aya . . . right before he had come back fucked up to all hell. Yohji cursed and worried at his lip with his teeth. Why did he have to be an idiot and say something like that? He could have phrased it differently, or said something else. No, he had to go and say something that Aya would take that way. Then again, how did he have any way of knowing that wording would hit a chord in Aya?

"Aya, I . . . I never meant that," Yohji assured, trying to think of how he could rectify this. He couldn't exactly apologize, since it wasn't his fault Aya had taken those words that way. "I didn't mean you to hear it like that. I didn't know."

Aya nodded weakly against Yohji's chest, his breathing wild but a bit calmer then before. Still a bit hysterical. Still a bit confused. But, the way he was sagging against Yohji's body, not fighting him, made Yohji feel a bit trusted. A bit warm, his chest wet with Aya's soggy face, the moisture sticky and hot. Aya was still making little weepy noises.

"I quit." Yohji looked down sharply at the top of Aya's head when those words came out softly. His hair was messy and the part wild, the roots a dark black before turning into the ridiculous red hair.

"I quit because . . . you're . . . a bastard," Aya murmured against Yohji's chest before snores came out. Yohji froze, staring down at Aya in disbelief. He had passed out, effectively having the last word. Yohji gently pulled Aya away by his shoulders and laid him down on the bed, moving a pillow down to cushion his head. Aya snored, his closed eyes swollen and red, his nose inflamed and puffy, a red scar under one nostril, his lips swollen and the splits looking fresh. Red streaks were left down his cheeks, the one piece of tape on the gauze over his cheekbone coming loose from the tears and struggle. His hair flared out, some of it curling and sticking to the tears drying on his face.

Aya wasn't a graceful drunk. Aya wasn't a beautiful crier. He honestly looked like shit. Yohji grabbed a wad of Kleenex from the box on the nightstand. He dabbed a bit at the IV, wincing as he was forced to shove it again into Aya's skin. He smoothed out the line, adjusting the stand, and then spat into the Kleenex and wiped at the base of the tube, smearing away a bit of the blood. After he had cleaned Aya up enough, he sat up and staggered over to the door, flicking off the lights. The window was dark, the sun had finally set.

Yohji slowly moved back to the bed, hitting his knees on the footboard as he ran into it. Cursing and putting a hand against the bed to locate himself, Yohji limped back around the side of the bed. He sat down on the edge and leaned over, pulling off his socks. He threw them somewhere toward the center of the floor then worked himself out of his jeans, yanking off the briefs and feeling around on the floor with his feet until he found a pair of boxers. Reaching down, Yohji pulled on the loose elastic, leaving them indecently under his hips before flopping down on the bed next to Aya's unconscious lump.

Yohji looked over at Aya's face, his mouth lax as he sighed softly though his lips. Finally shut up and sleeping, Aya wasn't half bad. Yohji reached out a hand and brushed stray hair away from Aya's face, tucking it behind his ear. He was kind of small and gentle, that bitchy attitude finally disappearing and allowing his face to relax. Yohji threw an arm over Aya's middle and closed his eyes, settling into the mattress.

Somewhere along the line, he decided that Aya wasn't going to be a one-night stand. Yohji wanted a relationship between Aya and him. He found himself interested in what made Aya such a raging asshole one moment and this vision of tranquility when he was asleep. A soft moan reached out and one eye flew open and looked down at Aya.

Did Aya really make that noise? Because, to Yohji, that had sounded a hell of a lot like a low, lusty moan. Aya's face was unchanged, the sound of his soft, easy breathing still filling the air. Then, through the walls, Yohji heard soft cries, weak and filled with passion. Yohji's eyes crossed together painfully before he slammed his head against the pillow.

He was so not going to get to sleep.

* * *

Ken shot forward, kissing his mouth, his tongue delving into his mouth. Omi gasped and felt Ken's hand wrap around him. No one else had ever touched him, and it felt electric. He couldn't stand Ken's fingers, unable to adjust to the sensation of his lover touching him. Ken's fingers were smooth and dry as they kneaded a pattern against his groin. Omi couldn't control his breath. His hands reached out for something, one burying itself in Ken's hair, the other making a tight fist, his fingernails biting into his skin.

Ken began to pump him, making Omi moan into his mouth. Ken kissed his cheek as Omi began to cry out, the movements getting faster. Ken's head moved down again, and Omi felt his heart jump into his throat. Ken kissed him, above his groin, then looked up at Omi. Omi's hand was still in his hair, unable to let go. Omi was scared, scared, but he didn't want Ken to stop. His breath kept coming in and out. Omi felt like he was going to explode.

Ken put his mouth at the tip of Omi's erection, making Omi cry out. He swallowed Omi full and his couldn't help but tear at Ken's hair, his breath catching as he tried to scream, unable to make any noise at all. Ken's mouth went up and down his length and Omi's fist went up to his mouth, his teeth biting into the skin. He couldn't help it. He couldn't do anything. Omi was completely helpless as Ken's warm mouth took him in.

He felt it building up, an incredible pressure in his groin. Little stabs of pain shot through him as he was brought to the edge and held there for a moment. His hips lifted up, his back arching off of the bed. Ken used his hand to push Omi back down and keep him from thrusting into his mouth. Omi sobbed, throwing his bed back on the pillows as Ken set the pace. Ken held him there, moving unbearably slowly, before he couldn't control himself anymore.

He felt himself release into Ken's mouth, screaming. He had never felt that way before. He had never been completely lost in passion. He gulped in air like he had never breathed before, sweat covering his body. He went limp under Ken, his body shuddering uncontrollably for several moment as he felt himself returning. He had never felt that fulfilled. He wanted to sleep forever.

They were perfect together. Ken moved up, his hand brushing away hair from Omi's face. Omi smiled, opening up his mouth and capturing one finger, sucking on it. Ken laughed throatily, nuzzling into Omi's neck. His hands moved down his body, back to his hips. Ken adjusted their bodies, putting himself right between Omi's legs.

"Ken-kun?" Omi asked, confused.

"Are you ready? I mean, I thought . . ." Ken trailed off and blushed crimson. "I mean, if you're ready, I won't rush you . . ."

Omi was scared. He couldn't imagine what life with Ken would be after they did it. But, it was the only thing he wanted at the moment. He nodded jerkily, not trusting himself to speak. The look on Ken's face was worth it as he smiled, nodding back to Omi. He suddenly lunged over Omi's body, his hip digging into Omi's stomach as he dug around in the bedside drawer, grunting as he looked for something. Omi gasped at pushed at Ken's heavy weight, trying to breathe.

"Here we go," Ken murmured, pulling out a container of lube and putting a condom pack into his mouth, tear the packet open with his teeth and hand, one hand already back to Omi. Omi blushed, thinking of what Ken was going to use it for. He was ready. He was. He loved Ken. They truly loved each other. Ken looked into Omi's eyes, double-checking that he was all right as he pushed the condom onto himself. Whatever he saw was enough, because Ken immediately returned to kneeling between Omi's legs.

Ken put one hand under Omi's knee and lifted his leg up, pulling his body down the bed. He let Omi's calf rest against his shoulder. The insides of Omi's thighs shook, his groin muscles tensing as he tried to go along with Ken, spreading his legs. The muscles in his knees felt watery and his toes tingled as Ken ran a hand over his knee. His hand trailed along, brushing the insides of Omi's legs and went under, pushing him apart.

Ken ran a finger against Omi's opening, the lube freezing against his skin before it warmed to his body, creating a slimy feeling. Omi chocked as Ken pushed a finger tentatively into Omi, Ken kissing his chest. Omi shuddered as Ken worked his finger easily inn, creating a motion that Omi had never even dreamed off inside him. His muscles clenched unstoppably against Ken's fingers, his groin tightening. Ken worked in another finger, gasping against Omi's moist chest as his lips brushed over the skin.

Those fingers worked their way inside of his body, creating a dry heat in their path that they rubbed against, the lube helping their way inside against the skin. But what they were doing wasn't strong enough, he still felt warm and empty, a hole in his body that he was aware of like never before. Omi cried out, his hands splaying out and touching Ken behind the neck. Ken put one hand against Omi's flanks and pulled out his fingers, leaving Omi empty and alone.

Then, putting the tip of his erection against Omi's opening, Ken pushed in, making Omi spread out painfully, the skin stretching against an object he never expected to fit between his legs. He slammed his hands down on the bed, just above Omi's hips, finding a balance as he began to drive into Omi. Omi pulled his knees apart, trying to accommodate Ken, trying to avoid being split in two. He didn't think it was going to hurt this much. He didn't think that it was supposed to feel like this-

Then his world exploded as Ken hit a spot. Any masturbation he had done never prepared him for the sensation of Ken filling him up to the hilt. Omi screamed out for Ken as he hit an orgasm he could have never even imagined, little white dots appearing in the edge of his vision. Ken's face came into view almost like a hallucination as Omi shuddered and froze up around Ken's penis, his body compressing together around the sensation.

Omi was dully aware of falling back onto the bed. Ken was panting as he removed himself from Omi with a sticky pop, something warm dripping out from inside Omi. Ken pulled the condom off, standing up to throw it away in the garbage pin and grabbing the Kleenex box. Omi couldn't move, his body all warm and floaty.

Ken swabbed between Omi's legs, chuckling and saying something. Omi couldn't make it out for the life of him, his brain hazy in the aftermath of pleasure. He felt a smile form on his face, hurting his cheeks, but unable to make it go away.

"Roll over, love," Ken asked, but Omi wasn't ever going to move on his free will again. Ken laughed at him and pushing him onto his stomach. Ken finished cleaning Omi up before pulling him onto his back. Ken kissed Omi against before lifting them up and pulling the covers out and over them. Omi had never remembered the sheets being this warm or heavy before.

Ken shifted closer, pushing a leg between Omi's and wrapping his arms around his body, pulling him up against his chest. They were both sticky with sweat, but Omi couldn't summon the strength to even start to move toward a shower. He had never slept naked before, much less against Ken's naked body. It was strange, yet somehow it wasn't uncomfortable.

Then it occurred to him. Omi's eyes opened lazily and he found that he was face to face with Ken, those eyes already staring into his. Omi still had the stupid smile on his face. He looked into Ken's loving eyes and felt the smile get bigger against his will.

"Ken-kun, why did you have lube?" Omi asked languidly, too tired to speak.

Ken's face dropped at his mouth opened with a dry squeak as he was rendered speechless.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: He he, okay, there was sex, it just wasn't between whom I thought it would be . . . If it was Yohji and Aya, who SHOULD get it on anyway, they would have to work through rape trauma, etc., and that would take probably a WHOLE other chapter. And I promised sex! Beyond that, I've got to admit something.

This was my first sex scene, and I wasn't sure how to go about it, so you know what? I used the erotic magnetic poetry set on my mini fridge and just picked a word and used it in a sentence . . . So uh, if I did anything anatomically incorrect or you just went 'What the hell?' Sorry. I don't what I'm doing, I'm a girl, but you'll get a lot of points if you can guess the word I had to use . . . It's like the best Sesame Street segment ever! 'Word of the day' means so much more in my world.

Okay, that's just gonna be a black hole in this story, who really cares about it? There will definitely be a sequel, cause Yohji and Aya need to get it on, but now that I'm writing fan fics I'm having a lot of fun and want to do more . . . Initial D will be next because that section is so small . . . But I will be back to this, I swear (really!) Oh, and I had bronchitis for those who were interested, so that's why I'm jamming on the third chapter (had a lot of time on my hands).