Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ Better then I've ever known it ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: All characters and their likeliness belongs to WeiB Kruez and Koyasu

Takehito . . . And, probably some more people I'm not naming. Just not me.

Aya stepped out of the car, shivering a bit in the cold. It was freezing out here, his cheeks already tingling. He closed the door and heard Yohji lock it behind him, closing his own door. Aya looked up at the streetlights buzzing in the night. They were glowing in the darkness, illuminating the fresh snowfall that was starting. It was odd to have it snow this much this early in the winter. Aya thought it was fitting, matching his own mood right now.

He didn't want to do this, suddenly. His throat closed, keeping him silent. His stomach was tightening, clenching together painfully. He was afraid to do this. He had to admit that. Once one admitted to the fear, he could overcome it. Aya closed his eyes as the memories swept over him, stealing his breath for a moment, frozen in outright terror. The snow hit his face, ignored for that second.

Hands. Everywhere on his body. Caressing a limb there, squeezing a bit too tight there, one finger driving in roughly without any sort of lubrication. Aya hated it, hated everything he had done. He didn't want Yohji to do that. He didn't want Yohji's hands to touch his own filthy, dirty body. He didn't want to add Yohji into these memories. Aya wanted to run away. He wanted to die for being so cowardly.

Yohji took Aya's cold hand in his, squeezing his fingers. When had Yohji's hand become so warm? Aya followed Yohji, dizzily stumbling after him for a moment. Aya regained his composure, putting the mask on again. It wasn't much different from mission days, hiding any sort of pain behind his revenge and isolation. He was just hiding that shame. That piece of agony that had been his life so many nights. It seemed so long now, like he had aged ten years in those few months. The world swirled around him, the only focus being Yohji's grip.

The door closed behind them and Aya shivered helplessly, robbed of all his warmth. His blood had gone cold. Even with the wind gone, it was still to cold, Aya's clothes scraping against his skin. Aya breathed deeply, remaining calm and collected. Yohji rubbed his hand vigorously up and down Aya's arm, trying to warm him.

It was almost too much. Aya was so cold. He couldn't stand Yohji's touch right now. What if Yohji just... Did that? Aya couldn't bear it one more time. Not when he could fight it. Why had he opened his mouth? What had happened in those few seconds where his free will was stolen, surrendering to the feelings Yohji was trying to awaken? They both worked at their shoes, unclasping the various buckles and laces that kept them on. Aya noticed he had blood on the toe of his shoe, shining wetly from the snow outside.

Aya straightened. He could recover from this weakness. This humiliation. His pride wouldn't allow it. Aya had said he would, and he was not a man who went back on his word. Yohji put both hands on Aya's sides, trying to warm him. It was still cold. Aya's nipples were chafed from the cold jacket. God, why did he have to be such a cheap whore? Why couldn't he regain the dignity to face Yohji as a man? Aya didn't deserve it. He didn't want it. He didn't want to be loved. Why was Yohji doing this to him?

Yohji wasn't doing anything more then trying to warm Aya. He shivered more in fear then the cold now. Why Yohji? The one person he couldn't fight off. Yohji just wanted to love him. Aya was so ashamed of everything Yohji knew. Why did Yohji have to dig into his life like that? It wasn't fair, and now Aya was indebted to him.

Yohji kissed him, very light. His lips were hot on Aya's cold lips. The lipstick was the only color now. Aya had gone blue and white with the cold. His skin was so thin. Yohji pressed his lips against Aya's softly, not forcing himself on Aya at all. Aya could pull away if he wanted to. Aya didn't want to, just wanted to have someone who would treat him like an equal, like a real lover. It had never happened to Aya before, staying loftily away from real romance his entire youth and through his bloody years. Aya hadn't ever allowed himself to love, except for his sister. And just a bit, a small bit of love extended toward his teammates, unable to hold himself away from the family-like bonds they had developed. And the love Yohji had tried to cultivate before Aya had sold the last bit of his humanity.

They had already made it up the stairs and to the hallway, Aya becoming aware of his spiraling surroundings. Yohji was the center of it all, kissing him softly on the lips and neck. It was just so cold. Yohji was bringing a bit of warmth to his body, his blood starting to pump weakly. It was like Yohji was bringing his heart alive. Trying to give him back a bit of the fire Aya had before.

Yohji gently herded Aya back toward the bathroom, forcing him into the room. The tile was cold on his feet, but it was warmer then his own body. Yohji pulled Aya's jacket off, the fabric sliding off in a rush of cold air. Aya held still, forced on the wall between the door and the towel rack. He stared back at himself in the mirror, his face deathly white, his hair mussed from the club and the wind outside.

He was shaking, pressing his shoulders back against the wall. The house was warm, but it wasn't warm enough for Aya. He was going to freeze to death. Yohji pulled back from Aya, stepping toward the door. Yohji took off his own long jacket, jerking at the tie until it was loose enough to unbutton his shirt and pull it off. Yohji's lean torso and smooth shoulders were exposed, leaving Aya over dressed.

What was he doing? Why was Yohji over there? Why wasn't Yohji pressed against Aya's body, forcing himself on Aya? Aya had thought that the bathroom had been some kind of fetish spot, a bit scared that they hadn't gone to the bedroom first. Was this what love was supposed to be? Aya didn't know anymore. Yohji tilted his head, smiling in the face of Aya's fear.

"What … what are you doing?" Aya asked. His voice was steady, even though it took him another try to get anything out. Yohji closed the bathroom door, locking it. The click made Aya shiver. What did Yohji want? What was he going to do? Why was he so afraid of it? Fuck, Fujimiya, get a hold of yourself. Aya forced himself to meet Yohji's eyes. He wouldn't stare at the floor like he was afraid. He wasn't.

"Aren't you kind of sweaty from the dance?" Yohji asked, kissing him on the throat. Aya's skin trembled at the contact, but he put his hands on Yohji's shoulders. Push him away? It was more like holding on for dear life. Aya didn't want this, he was scared, terrified at the thought Yohji would do it and Aya wouldn't like it. Aya wouldn't shy away, though. That would lose the little pride he had left.

"Maybe," Aya sniffed, pulling his chin up a bit. He glared up at Yohji, upset that he couldn't quite match Yohji's height. Yohji slid a hand under the hem of the tank top, lifting up the fabric a bit. Aya pressed his hands flat against the wall behind him. He wasn't about to let it feel good. He didn't ever want to enjoy this. There were too many memories fresh in his mind. He wanted to kick at Yohji, and yet didn't want Yohji to ever take his hands away. He was so alone some times. How could he explain this?

Yohji lifted the shirt up to Aya's armpits, kissing a bit of his chest that was exposed. What was Aya supposed to do, hold his hands up above his head in defeat? Yohji pulled the shirt slowly off, letting it fall lightly to the floor. Aya knew that Yohji was moving slow, being careful for his sake. He couldn't thank Yohji enough for not stripping him and bending Aya over the sink right then and there. He couldn't be more ashamed that Yohji thought it was necessary to move like that. Yohji didn't have to be careful for his sake. Aya didn't matter that much. How could he?

"You're beautiful," Yohji whispered to him, kissing Aya on the forehead. Aya forced his neck to remain straight. He wanted to pull away. The people who said things like that were usually the ones who hurt him the most. Aya didn't think his heart could take it, pounding hard in his chest. Yohji kissed his neck again, his collarbone. Why was Yohji taking his time? Aya's hands started pulling up Yohji's shirt as well. The sound of the bath filling echoed in Aya's ears.

Yohji started at Aya's fly. What was he doing? Why did the pants have to go right now? It didn't matter, because Yohji kissed the top of Aya's shoulder bone. He did trust Yohji, really. If it were anyone else, they would probably have a broken bone. Yohji was there, not some faceless customer. Yohji didn't haunt Aya in his dreams. It would be all right. Yohji was going slowly, letting the pants drop to below Aya's hips.

"It's ready," Yohji noted, looking at the bathtub. Aya glanced over as well. It was ready, the surface steaming. Aya had goose bumps from the chill of the room. Not at all from Yohji's hands. Aya got cold easily, his fingers tingling with numbness. Yohji let his own pants hit the floor first. Aya was thankful that Yohji had chosen to get exposed before him. It didn't make Aya feel so watched, so used.

Aya got naked himself, stepping out of his pants and socks. Was Yohji watching him? What was Yohji thinking? What did he want? That question made Aya worry the most. What if Yohji asked for something Aya was uncomfortable with? How could Aya even say no? He owed it to Yohji; owed it to the man that thought Aya was worth loving. It wouldn't be fair to say that he didn't want any part of it. Aya didn't deserve the choice.

"Okay," Aya whispered to himself, stepping into the tub with Yohji. It was warm, making his skin smart and turn red almost immediately. They settled down into the hot water, Yohji sitting down in the curve of the tub, letting Aya sit before him. Yohji's legs were on either side of Aya, like a bizarre couch. Yohji's body was cooler then the water, but still hot, pressed up against Aya's back. One arm went over Aya's shoulder, hugging him from behind.

"It's all right. It's just me," Yohji's voice breathed into Aya's ears. Like Aya needed to be assured. He wasn't scared, goddamn it! Stop shivering, Aya ordered his body. It was because the water was so hot. It was warm; stinging into his skin, burning away the flesh Aya wore. He wished the water wasn't so clear, letting him see Yohji's knees on either side of him, blurring their legs together with small ripples.

Yohji kissed the back of Aya's head, pressing a cheek against Aya's hair. Aya felt like he was special, and at the same time he didn't deserve a single bit of it. He had killed people; he had let them use his body like it was some kind of object. Yohji started to knead Aya's shoulders with his hands, trying to get Aya to relax a bit. Yohji's hands made Aya realize how tense he was holding his body. He forced himself to relax. No big deal.

Yohji let a bar of soap run down Aya's arm, working up lather in its path. Yohji fingernails scrubbed away at some of the dirt and grime that had built up on his skin from the club. Yohji's hands left a burning trail in their wake. Aya felt like his flesh was being rubbed away. The flesh that had been touched by all those other hands was being stripped away by Yohji's hands. How was Aya ever going to forget Yohji's hands? How would he be able to block this one out like all the other times?

Yohji washed Aya's body gently, just in friendly contact, his hands leaving Aya's groin thankfully alone. He didn't want to have to try and resist if Yohji touched him down there. Aya usually never hand been allowed to feel pleasure before the sex. Customers didn't like their whores to come early. Aya wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Yohji's wasn't giving him any instructions, nor was his body language telling Aya that he wanted to do anything other then give him a bath.

Aya was helpless, starting to relax despite his nerves. The water was so hot, making his muscle lax and warm even though Aya wanted to stay alert. He didn't want to start to feel sleepy. Yohji was massaging muscles had never touched like that. Aya couldn't remember the time he had allowed anyone to massage his back, even though Ken and Yohji had insisted they were experts and it wasn't meant like that, not like what Aya was used to. Aya couldn't remember the last time any of his customers had tried to make him feel comfortable.

Yohji's groin wasn't exactly pressed against Aya's bottom, but he could feel the shape of it nonetheless. Aya wasn't sure what he should do. It wasn't erect, so there was nothing to be worried about yet. Yohji didn't want sex yet. So, what did he want? It was outside Aya's experience. He had never had a girlfriend, any kind of real lover before. Sakura had never given him anything more then hugs and chaste kisses, like a little sister. That had been what their relationship really was, both of them just searching for someone to belong with for that time. Yohji was completely new. He loved Aya. Aya didn't know what he could possibly want.

Aya was getting sleepy, none the less, lulled by the heat of the bath and Yohji's soft, gentle hands. He wasn't hurting Aya, no fingernails scratching the skin carelessly. Aya let his head loll against Yohji's shoulder. Now that he was too tired to be panicked, Aya felt a bit more comfortable. It was Yohji, just Yohji. Nobody else was there. It was just them.

"Hey, are you falling asleep on me?" Yohji scolded Aya, kissing his temple. Aya shook his head, still not trusting himself to speak clearly. He wasn't that weak. He didn't fall asleep when someone was giving him a bath. They should both know that quite well. But, Aya's muscles were wonderfully relaxed, the water's heat tingling in through the skin.

"I think it's time to get out," Yohji said for both of them. Aya wasn't sure if he wanted to get out. He just felt so comfortable right now. He had never felt this at ease with any person, except for his sister. It was wonderful to finally be able to relax with someone else. Aya had never done this before, not with this kind of love. Why was Yohji special? Aya couldn't answer his own, lazy questions.

Yohji helped Aya up, letting them stand in a moment, water dripping off both their bodies. Yohji smiled at Aya, kissing him. Aya returned it. He wasn't so panicked anymore. Maybe Yohji didn't want sex. It was the first time Aya had been able to relax in months. He didn't have to be scared. It was Yohji.

Aya didn't push Yohji away as he pressed a towel against Aya's chest. Yohji dried Aya off, rubbing his arms down with the soft cloth. He wrapped the towel around Aya's hips, taking one of Aya's hands up. He put it around the towel, letting Aya hold it up as Yohji dried himself off, rubbing the towel across his back. Aya discretely dried off his own body when Yohji turned his back.

"You ready?" Yohji asked, nodding his head to the door. Aya wasn't sure what Yohji wanted. Was it sex, or was it to go to bed? Aya didn't feel scared over either prospect. He owed Yohji his body, his life. He didn't get to feel uncomfortable about it. Even though, he wasn't quite sure just how much he'd not enjoy it if Yohji decided on sex. Yohji said that it didn't always hurt. Yohji was right; Aya hadn't had sex with him yet.

They walked to Yohji's room, Aya following slowly behind. Yohji closed the door behind himself, watching Aya walk forward. No man could resist a good massage and a hot bath. Yohji hadn't found someone who didn't succumb to it, however slight it might be. Aya had been no different, the muscles relaxing under Yohji's hands. He was the master of it, knowing just how to manipulate someone with foreplay. It was an art, it was a game, and Yohji didn't play by the rules.

Yohji pulled the towel gently from around Aya's waist. Aya didn't grab for it, nor did he shy away now that he was suddenly naked. Yohji helped Aya to the bed, pulling his hesitant friend along. Yohji pressed a hand on Aya's shoulder, gently shoving him down into the mattress. Aya lay out willingly, not trying to hide his body as Yohji climbed on top, letting his own towel go.

"You okay?" Yohji asked. He wanted Aya to end this if he needed it. Yohji wasn't an animal. He was very, very close to turning into one, but would never be with Aya. If he didn't score somewhat on a sexual note tonight, Yohji was going out for a woman as soon as the coffee shops opened. He wouldn't force it on Aya. He wanted Aya to be ready to enjoy it, to relax with him. To be happy that Yohji was touching him.

"I'm fine. Stop asking me questions," Aya growled, his eyes closed. Still not ready for it, but not exactly pulling away. Yohji raised up Aya's arm, kissing the soft pink lines of the scars around his wrist. Aya tried to pull away once and Yohji let him, letting the hand fall back to mattress. Yohji chewed at the inside of his cheek. Don't get excited. It's all about going easy, my man, Yohji reminded himself.

"Okay, no questions," Yohji agreed, kissing up Aya's shoulder to his neck, sucking gently on a small scrape that hadn't completely healed yet. Aya curled his head away from the mouth, moaning a bit. "But," Yohji paused between a kiss, "I want to tell you that you're absolutely beautiful," Yohji said, kissing Aya softly on the lips. That made Aya's eyes open. He looked at Yohji, confused, not trying to hide it with anger. He was being open, no defense between them right now.

"Why?" Yohji wasn't sure what 'why?' Aya was asking. Why did he think Aya was beautiful? Why did Yohji love him? Why was he going to fuck him until he was numb? Yohji didn't exactly have an answer, kissing Aya again on the top of his ribcage. Yohji didn't want to talk anymore. They weren't going to need words, not between them.

Aya didn't say anything, moaning. Yohji could turn anyone into a pile of sexual jelly. He had that kind of touch, that kind of knowledge about what would always work and what would not. He kissed down Aya's stomach, hesitating over the groin. He had done this before with other men, and had been given the same treatment enough to know just what a man would want. Aya looked down at him, his eyes a little wide. His hands were making fists in the sheets, holding his own body still on the bed.

Yohji kissed the top of Aya's hips, over the white, healing flesh where other men hadn't appreciated Aya. How could anyone damage that beautiful, white body? Aya's inner thighs and his base were cress-crossed with light pink marks where the flesh wasn't quite mended yet. Yohji had never seen anything more beautiful, running a hand down Aya's length. Aya closed his eyes, but didn't make any move. He just shuddered, concentrating on keeping himself from throwing Yohji off of him.

"Aya, are you okay?" Yohji checked. Aya's cheeks were flushed red, but he didn't give the slightest sign that he was turned on in any way. Yohji knew he was aroused, the scent of sex heavy in the air, Aya's body underneath him. He wanted the touch every bit of skin that was on Aya. Anything that made up Aya needed to be explored, examined. Aya lifted himself up on his elbows, glaring a bit at Yohji.

"I said, 'stop asking questions.' You're noisy," Aya snapped, kissing Yohji under the throat. It was just like how wolves bit each other in the jugular, showing who was alpha. Yohji wasn't surprised Aya would be feral when it came to lovemaking. Aya had never been shown how to take it slow, at least, how to enjoy it for yourself. Yohji pushed him back down on the bed, nodding his head at Aya.

Yohji could go a bit further if he was being so agreeable. Yohji kissed Aya's stomach, above his bellybutton, using his hands to spread Aya's legs just a small, amount, nothing alarming. He traced his hands over Aya's hips. Yohji would be quiet if the high and mighty Aya was coping an attitude like that. Aya's angry, hurtful comment wasn't any kind of ploy to cover how scared he was, but real irritation that Yohji was starting to take so long. Might actually get worked up to intercourse tonight.

Aya was crying when Yohji looked up at him. It was without a single sound, just tears welling up at the corners of his eyes before one spilt over, running into his hair. Aya's face was still, but his eyes were confused, sad looking. There was pain in there as well. It still hurt him, physically as well as emotionally. Yohji stopped, wrapping his arms around Aya to pull the red head into his lap.

"Why?" Aya asked softly, his voice not showing any sign of crying. Yohji felt the tears on his bare shoulders, the small drips sticky and cold. Yohji kept on hugging as he cried silently, not wanting to show Yohji how much it hurt. Yohji just wanted to be there for him, to show him that it would be okay for him. Yohji would never, ever hurt him or try to force himself on Aya. Aya needed to understand that as soon as possible.

"'Why,' what?" Yohji asked back, tilting Aya's chin back with his hand. His eyes were still full of unshed tears. Aya blinked, spilling a few down his face and onto Yohji's fingers. Yohji kissed him on his cheeks, over his closed eyes.

"Why don't you just do it? I mean, just . . . I don't wan-" Aya clamped his lips closed tight, stopping his questions. Yohji thought he understood. Why aren't you just fucking me blind? Aya didn't understand why Yohji wanted to let him choose when they finally did it. Yohji didn't want it to be something that Aya was forced into. He wanted Aya to want it, to need it. He was going to be there when Aya wanted those services from him. He could damn well provide him. It looked like Yohji might be more familiar with his right hand then had been in years.

"I just want to make you feel good. It's your choice, Aya," Yohji explained, kissing Aya on the lips. Aya trembled, visibly thinking, calculating. He was translating Yohji's words, picking apart the meanings and considering everything. Aya didn't understand this new turn of events, that was for sure. Aya looked absolutely lost, not being forced to have sex. This had changed the usual turn of events. Aya didn't know where to go. That's what Yohji got from his terrified face.

"Just do it. You'll fuck me sooner or later," Aya ended up yelling, spitting it out at Yohji. Yohji just kissed him again, trying to take away that pain. Yohji didn't want Aya like that. He wanted Aya as a partner, as an equal. He wouldn't just be the dominate in this relationship. Aya deserved to make decisions about a sexual relationship, being denied those options so many other times.

"I don't want to right now," Yohji said flippantly. Aya's eyes narrowed. Oh, Lord. How was Aya taking those words? Yohji's couldn't tell, but either way he was in trouble. He could tell by the hard set of Aya's lips, the way the corner of his mouth got tighter. He wasn't a happy sex partner. Not by any means.

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't think I can do it? You want it, I see you watching me," Aya accused him, heat clear in his voice. He knew? Yohji thought he had been a little more inconspicuous. He couldn't believe that Aya had noticed Yohji staring at his backside, fantasying about different things Aya's rounded rear could be doing. Aya felt threatened, unsure about what was the next step. For some reason, following the plan gave Aya a bit of control, even if he was being raped. Some kind of trauma thought process, Yohji guessed. Aya was being insulted by his standards.

"Yes, Aya, I want to fuck you over until you can't move, but I'm not going to do it if you don't want me to," Yohji snarled, his control a very fine, small thing right now. Aya had no idea how much he was really tempting Yohji. He was about ready to take Aya up on his own, selfish words. Hearing Aya yell at him in anger to screw him over, literally, was damn hard not to pin Aya to the bed.

"Well, I don't!" Aya yelled back into Yohji's face. Yohji blinked at his voice, Aya sounding so angry and desperate. It had come out of nowhere, Aya's mild irritation turning into a sort of rage. Yohji raised an eyebrow into Aya's red, teary face. Aya's mouth trembled for a moment before setting in a line again.

"All right," Yohji agreed. Aya kept glaring at Yohji, his eyes widening at Yohji's words. He was replaying them in his head, Yohji could tell. Aya's brows came together before he crumbled, holding onto Yohji around the chest. Yohji held him as well, petting his hair down. He kissed the top of Aya's head, telling him that it would be all right. It was fine that Aya didn't want sex tonight. There would eventually be a night when he would truly accept Yohji, and then many nights after that. And days. And those hours whenever Yohji wanted to have sex with Aya. He could wait for that.

"What do you want?" Aya asked miserably, surrendering again. Yohji put his arms around Aya's shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. Aya's eyes were clear, not full of tears like they had been. He looked sad and tired, heartbroken. Aya thought making love was about rolling over and just taking it. Aya never thought that he was a partner, so Yohji's words went right over his head.

"I just want you to sit here," Yohji whispered, kissing Aya's lips lightly. Aya nodded his head, expecting Yohji to press for more. Yohji kissed Aya's neck, his face, the curve of his ear. Anything that Yohji hadn't kissed before. He just wanted Aya to feel good and not feel like he was being held to it. Yohji didn't force lovers, and he would never do it to Aya.

"You can just enjoy it," Yohji quipped, kissing Aya's chest, sucking on a nipple. The sensitive spot was found as Aya moaned and arched his back up on the bed. Yohji paid more attention to it, shamelessly doing his best to manipulate the small pink dot into a dark pebble, gently scraping his teeth on the sensitive skin. He didn't dare bite it, circling the older scar with his tongue. In a few more months, these little lines would fade away.

He could settle on making out with Aya like a young oversexed teenager. He knew he wouldn't be able to use an erection on Aya. There was no question that he could wave something like that around Aya's body. That just wasn't acceptable behavior for dealing with Aya.

Nobody could hold out for long under Yohji's mouth. Yohji got closer to the groin. Aya didn't flinch, did tense up. His hips trembled a bit and Yohji put a hand down on one to steady it, another to help out Aya's groin. Yohji teased Aya a bit, just ghosting his hand along Aya's penis. Wouldn't do to have Aya freak out now. Not when he was so close.

Aya shuddered, groaning when Yohji continued to stroke him, rubbing his thumb along the head. Aya's thighs tensed a bit and Yohji felt the organ come to life under his hand. That's right. Yohji knew how to get anyone aroused, tracing his finger behind Aya's balls on that sensitive skin. Aya moaned, very definitely. Couldn't stifle that one, now could we? Yohji thought smugly, still stroking Aya, fondling him.

Yohji kissed the tip of Aya's head, stretching his jaw just a bit to get warmed up. Aya didn't cry out when Yohji put his mouth around Aya's length. Yohji listened carefully, hearing Aya's breath hitch and get a bit lower, huskier. Nobody could stay silent if Yohji had his mouth at their crotch. Yohji used his tongue a bit, being very careful about his teeth. He wouldn't want to be to rough with Aya and trigger a flashback or something. That kind of worry gave Yohji enough self-control not to do a quick hand job on Aya and get to it himself.

Aya cried out, barely, and then it was muffled before it could be even qualified as a squeak. Yohji let his throat relax and swallowed what Aya gave out. Aya shuddered, his gasped, stiffening a bit. Yohji dropped Aya out of his mouth. There was blood speckling the top of Aya's penis. That skin was much more weak and sensitive, the old wounds splitting easily. Yohji licked up the small amount of blood, cleaning Aya up as effectively as a cat would.

Aya sagged bonelessly back on the bed. Someone still didn't have their energy back. Yohji wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, licking his mouth at the taste. Aya was sprawled out on the bed, one hand tangled in the sheets, another was pressed into his mouth. Yohji pulled Aya's wrist only to have the side of the palm bloody from a bite mark. Aya had been gagging himself.

"Oh, God, Aya, are you okay? Fuck, I'm sorry," Yohji tried to explain, sitting up a bit. He threw the sheets over Aya's body, leaping off of the bed. Trying to give Aya distance as fast as possible. Someone knocked at the door. Fuck! This had to be a bad joke. Having a semi-erection wasn't helping matters. Yohji cursed again, grabbing at a pair of pants. He needed something to hide this.

"Yohji-kun, are you in there?" Omi's voice called out on the other side of the door. How long had he been there? Omi always had a habit of listening in on the worst times. What did he think he knew? What had he heard? Aya looked up blankly at Yohji as he started to panic, voiceless, his mouth moving to yell out the curses while being absolute silent. Maybe there was a chance Omi hadn't heard them. Aya looked out of it, his body limp in the bed. The sheet slid a bit, only covering a small amount of stomach and the curve of his butt. He looked like right out of one of Yohji's porno magazines, a fantasy come to life. Thanks a whole fucking lot, Omi Tsukiyono.

"Uh, yeah, hey, Omi," Yohji mumbled out, pulling on a pair of pants. He zipped himself up before opening the door up enough to shove his body through. He closed it, just in case Omi decided to peek and see Aya naked on his bed. Especially after being given a very nice blowjob by him.

"Yohji-kun, you're all sweaty! What have you been doing?" Omi asked. Was he trying to be sarcastic or did the brat seriously not recognize the smell of sex? The erection was painful and Yohji smiled his through gritted teeth, ready to shove Omi down the stairs. Aya was naked, on his bed, they were going at it, it was so right and perfect and fucking Omi walks in on the scene.

"Exercising," Yohji answered without even thinking about it. Somewhere in the world, someone was screaming 'Liar!' Buy it, buy it, Yohji begged Omi. Please, don't look down. Omi was ever the gentleman, keeping a nice, strong eye contact with Yohji. The boy smiled and nodded, like outside the world was covered with candy.

"Do you know where Aya-kun is?"

Omi knew. Omi had seen Aya in the bedroom. Omi was just torturing him, pretending not to know what was going on. This was painful, embarrassing, and Yohji didn't care. Fuck. He just wanted this conversation to end. There was something much more important on the other side of the door, not out here in the hallway. Why did Omi have to be such a brat? Like Ken and he ever practiced abstinence. They had sex on a daily basis. Hell, hourly.

"Sleeping." Again, Yohji's mouth answered Omi without him having to consciously think of a good excuse. Omi smiled, nodding again. He knew. Or, maybe he didn't? Yohji wasn't sure anymore. Omi wasn't repeating Yohji's excuse back like he knew better. Maybe Omi wasn't really aware of what kind of 'exercise' Yohji wanted to do with Aya.

"Okay. Well, if you guys get hungry, Ken got some Mexican food," Omi informed him, turning down the hall. Yohji sighed, relaxing. No more questions. However, his groin was so tight it was bringing tears to his eyes. Aya was waiting for him. Waiting for him, naked on his bed.

Dream come true or not, Yohji barely had the self-control not to run into the room.

* * *

Aya looked up at the hallway lights as the door suddenly opened, flooding the room in a bright light. He hadn't moved to draw the covers up around his body, unable to make his fingers even twitch. He couldn't believe he could be this tired. Couldn't believe he could be this warm. Aya wasn't shaking, his body finally warm and hot, still sweating a bit from Yohji's touch.

Aya was stunned into silence, into a kind of pleasure paralysis. He had heard Omi earlier, outside the door, noticing the footfalls before Yohji had. Aya had stuffed his hand in his mouth, trying to stifle the cries Yohji was bringing out of him. Aya had no idea that it wasn't supposed to hurt. The violence had been completely absent. It had been bizarre, so strange that Aya had been taken completely by surprise.

He didn't know it could be that good. He had never thought in a million years that someone would take it slow, at a pace Aya could finally stand, that he wasn't beaten into. Aya didn't know that someone would be satisfied with just one, easy orgasm. These things were done by the clock, and an hour was as busy as a person could make it, suddenly not enough time when it was at a thousand dollars.

Yohji closed the door. Aya blinked up at him. He couldn't help but smile. Yohji had shown him something that he had never thought possible. He couldn't believe that it would feel good. Aya schooled his face down into an expressionless mask, not wanting to seem too impressed. He didn't want Yohji to think that he had really enjoyed it that much.

Yohji placed a hand on Aya's shoulder. It was warm, hot, and real. No phantom touches here, hands ghosting across Aya's flesh even when he was alone. This was Yohji, gentle and loving. Aya now had an idea of how sex really should be. He had been so scared before, thinking that the whole deal was just rough, fast violent. Not with Yohji. Yohji ran his hand down his arm, brushing off the blanket from his hip.

"You awake, baby?" Yohji asked. Aya sighed at the pet name. He wasn't in the mood to reprimand Yohji right now. Aya just let it slide, turning over onto his back so he could face Yohji. He didn't really care that he was naked now. It wasn't like Yohji hadn't had his face buried in his groin only minutes ago. Aya didn't have anything left to hide from Yohji.

"Yeah," Aya growled, looking away from Yohji's smug face. The bastard didn't have to be so triumphant, beaming like he had shown that once again, he was the king of lovers, men and women alike. Aya narrowed his eyes at Yohji. What was the man planning? He didn't like the look on his face.

There was a touch. Just Yohji's fingers tracing below his waist, over his hip. Aya knew it was Yohji. It was Yohji's hand, the calluses brushing over his skin. The pressure was light, but still enough to make Aya aware of him. Of where Yohji was going to go. Aya knew what was next.

"Get off me!" Aya screamed, shoving the man off. It didn't matter who it was. It was all the same. He didn't want to remember. Not right now. Please, don't lose it. A man who wasn't even in the room choked Aya, forcing him down on the bed by his neck. Aya gasped, trying to breath, trying to fight.

Another, much more real hand grabbed his arm and Aya lashed out, kicking and screaming at whoever it was. Who gave a fuck about the money? They were touching him. The hand around his throat disappeared, gone like it had never been. Aya kept fighting, tangling himself up in the sheets, trying to get away. His head hit the bed stand and his vision went grey for a moment, blurring.

"Stop, please!" Someone, a voice, it was familiar. Aya lashed out with his arms, making a space around him. He was shaking, he couldn't stop it. Aya bit his lip, remembering everything. Someone was telling him to stop. What wasn't he doing right? Aya just didn't want to get hurt, not beaten, just not raped. Not again. He would kill himself first. The pain wasn't bearable anymore.

"What's that bitch doing?" The voice was ethereal, in Aya's mind. His eyes went wide and he kicked out. Someone grunted. He was throwing them off. Aya tried to fight harder, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't want to see them naked. He didn't want to see himself naked. Aya hated his body, hated everything that had been done to it. He didn't want to ever see himself again.

Someone jerked his legs apart violently, holding his ankles out to keep Aya spread. He grabbed at his hair, pulling at it. They were going to do it again. He knew they would. Was he wearing pants? Aya couldn't remember. He must be naked, because he felt a penis below, around his opening, the head brushing against his tender skin. God, no.

Aya lost his sanity, lost himself. He wouldn't be raped. It was against his will, against his pride. He wouldn't allow it. He kept pulling at his hair, ripping out strands. Somewhere in the dream, someone yelled out his name. Aya wasn't sure who it was. But, they were calling him by his sister's name. Nobody knew his real name in this job, at least nobody who was alive anymore. Yohji had taken care of that. Yohji would be there, right?

"Aya!" Yohji tried to reason with him. Yohji got off the bed, trying to space himself. No matter how much he wanted to help Aya, no matter how much he wanted to go to him and just hold Aya close, he couldn't. Not now. Aya threw up his hands, fighting against something Yohji couldn't see. A flashback. Aya lived in fear of them. Yohji knew. He had seen far more then he would ever like to. They came upon Aya at the worst time; so strong and vivid that all Yohji could do was wait for them to pass. If Yohji tried to touch Aya now, he would only make it worse.

Aya screamed out against something, kicking and falling off the bed. The sheets went with him, yanked out from under the mattress. Yohji rushed to the other side. Aya was on all fours, gasping, his eyes wide. He was still naked, so thin and white in the darkness. So beautiful. Yohji couldn't believe that nobody had ever seen this kind of allure in Aya and had ignored it. Just ignored everything that made up Aya and used the body, not caring about the man.

"Aya, please, it's just me," Yohji whispered, reaching out a hand. He wasn't sure if he could touch Aya yet. Aya shied away, pushing back on his heels. Yohji didn't know what to do, his chest tightening as Aya scrabbled away from him in fear. Aya didn't recognize him. It wasn't his fault. Yohji couldn't help but be hurt at it.

Aya hit the wall, curling his arms up around his knees. He was shaking like a child in a bad dream, making himself as small as possible. Aya was trying not to be noticed. Yohji stood away, trying to give Aya the space he was looking for. Anything Aya wanted, Yohji would try to give it. He just wanted to hold Aya. He couldn't bear seeing Aya like this, frightened. It wasn't who Aya was.

"Yohji?" Aya asked, lifting his head up a bit from his arms. All Yohji could see was Aya's eyes, peeking up from over his crossed limbs. It was like he was expecting Yohji to attack him. Yohji smiled weakly even though his stomach was churning, waving to Aya.

"Yo."

Yohji wasn't prepared for Aya suddenly surging up and grabbing the lamp from the bedside. He barely managed to dodge it as Aya threw the light as hard as he could. The shade flew off and the lamp continued on, shattering against the wall. Yohji covered his head with his hands, trying to shield himself from the shards. The light bulb exploded, a large pop with a flash of light marking the last of its illumination.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Yohji yelled. He was pissed, certainly. Aya had thrown to lamp without a care. Things didn't magically appear out of the air. People had to go out and find something they wanted before buying it. Aya was shaking still, rage pouring off of his body. Yohji saw Aya's shoulders bunch up, the man very close to violence.

"Get out! Get out, now!" Aya roared, pointing at the door. Yohji had crossed a line, somewhere. He didn't know what he had done. He had offended Aya in some way. Maybe Aya was upset at himself. Either way, all Yohji felt was anger. So fucking close only to be thrown back by people Yohji couldn't even see. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that Aya should live like this. Aya was stronger then this.

"I said, get the hell out!" Aya shoved Yohji's chest, pushing him back. Yohji grunted, falling back. He hit the floor; his legs sprawled in front of him. Aya glared down at him, shaking. His hair had fallen across his eyes, hiding them from Yohji. He wanted to see Aya's eyes. Yohji wanted to know if this anger was real. What did Aya really feel? Aya would never say it out loud. Yohji needed Aya's eyes to tell him what Aya was feeling.

"Goddamn it, Aya," Yohji hissed out. He couldn't take it right now. Not after gaining so much ground. Why did they have to back step like this? Yohji had thought everything was going smoothly, moving forward. He had thought that tonight might actually mean something to them. Aya might accept Yohji enough to relieve some of the aching pain Yohji felt in his groin. Shit. He still had the barest hint of an erection. Like a little resistance would put him off. If anything, it usually ended up being a turn on.

But, not like this. Not with Aya freaking out like this. It pissed Yohji off. Made him want to go out and kill something. Just mangle a human being beyond on recognition, because that was what had happened to Aya. Aya was still beautiful; his lips red and hard as he frowned at Yohji, but the personality had gone through a meat grinder. There were holes in what had once been a smooth wall. Aya didn't have cracks. Aya didn't break under pressure. Aya fought against it all.

And Aya was threatened. He was frightened by what he thought Yohji would do. There was no doubt that Yohji wanted to fuck Aya blind, but he wouldn't do it to an unwilling partner. Even he had standards. Yohji never took an unwilling person to bed. Yohji would like to have bed partners that wanted the sex as much as him. However, Yohji didn't think there was anyone who needed sex more then him right now.

Yohji retreated. That was the only word for it as Aya yanked the drawer out of the bedside cabinet and threw it. Condoms, cigarettes, lighters and magazines fell out before the drawer crashed into the wall, the word splintering and shattering. Ruined. Fuck! Fuck it all! Aya destroyed his property without a care, just on whim. Just because Aya was a messed up trauma case.

"Fuck you, Fujimiya!" Yohji roared into the room, unable to think clearly. He slammed the door as hard as he could, making a picture on the wall fall. The picture of all four of them in front of Tokyo Tower fell and the glass shattered. Ken and Omi were posing and smiling up at Yohji, his own face obscured as Yohji pushed his sunglasses up on his nose as he spotted a woman walk. Aya was looking away, up at the sky. The wind had caught his ear tails, making them wave across his face.

When had things changed so much? How come Yohji had never noticed Aya's job? How could he have just ignored Aya coming in late, not showing up to work the next day? Yohji snarled, kicking the bedroom door. He was angry with Aya for ruining such a good moment, at the people who had done it to Aya in the first place. Yohji was mad at himself for still being aroused.

He stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door again. It gave him a bit of satisfaction. Everything was just so far away right now. It was anger, pure and simple. Yohji was in a rage, and he had nothing to loose it on. He was still hard, too. Aya. Yohji closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek.

Yohji stood in front of the toilet, tearing open the zipper of the pants. It was worthless now. He wouldn't be able to find a girl fast enough. It wasn't satisfying. In fact, it was humiliating to have to take his dick up and jerk himself off. Yohji hadn't masturbated in a longer time then he could remember. Yohji always found bodies to put an erection in.

He put on hand up on the wall, tilting his head as he tried to loose the anger. He couldn't. Yohji was galled that he had to give himself a quick, loose hand job. It was below him, it was disgraceful for someone with his record to masturbate in the bathroom when he had a perfectly good body in his own bedroom. Which he had been thrown out of. Yohji was definitely angry that Aya had forced him out of his own room. But, what could man do when heavy objects were being thrown?

Yohji closed his eyes as tight as he could manage, making his hand go faster. It wasn't really helping. He could only see Aya's face. That white body that had been naked on his bed only minutes ago. Aya's pale skin, his thin, delicate hands. How his mouth had parted to show those white teeth when Aya gasped. Yohji wanted to make Aya go wild.

Aya twisted in Yohji's mind, his hips writhing. It could work, imagining Aya underneath him. Yohji had been close. He still had a tang of Aya in his mouth, faint and stick on his gums. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, though Yohji didn't usually swallow. He let that job be for the women. But, it had been Aya that he had given a blowjob to. Shuddering, remembering, Yohji ran his hand up and down faster.

He came pretty easily. Sighing in relief, Yohji could now concentrate on other things. He hit the toilet roll, letting the paper stream down until it touched the floor. Yohji cleaned himself off, wiping a bit of the ejaculation that had hit the seat of the toilet. Now that the painful edge of arousal was gone, Yohji wasn't quite as close to homicide. He was still pissed off. It was just so messed up, unfair, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

Yohji reached under the bathroom sink. There, secured behind the pipes with duct tape, was his pot stash. Omi wouldn't find it under there. It was ridiculous and it made Yohji feel like he was teenager again, trying to hide marijuana from his cocaine-addict mother. It had been extremely different levels of drugs that Yohji and his good old mum tried to keep secret from each other, neither of them wanting the other to know what they were doing. They both had known anyways, but there was nothing wrong with keeping up appearances.

Yohji flipped on the air vent and lit one of those scented candles Omi kept on top of the toilet. Omi would kill Yohji if he knew what he did in the bathroom. It was the only place where Yohji could get the smell to disperse quickly, or at least cover it up. The last time he had tried smoking out a window Omi had been outside. The boy had been watering plants outside and redirected the hose up to the top floor. Yohji had been more then a little upset that Omi had soaked a good amount of his pot. The stuff was expensive, after all. So, he found rooms where he could get high in peace, like the bathroom, the storage room, and the back patio if Omi wasn't home.

It wasn't that hard to hide his more serious drugs from Omi. It was just a matter of finding the right place. Omi was the main worry because he was the one who cleaned, and the one who threw stuff out. Ken didn't care, hell; Ken even joined Yohji on more then several occasions. As for Aya… Well, Yohji wasn't sure if Aya even knew what marijuana was. At least, not of his own will. Yohji didn't think that Aya had ever used any kind of narcotic just for some fun. It was unlikely that Aya had ever 'experimented' in high school, with him being in clubs and sports and all, and it was doubtful Aya ever used any kind of drug during the mission days beyond pain killers for bullet wounds.

Yohji packed himself a large, liberal amount. Yohji was going to have to be seriously messed up before he left the bathroom. Otherwise, the next person he came across was in danger of being mauled. The whole world was one big fucking mess, and the center of the universe was Aya. It seemed the harder Yohji tried to fix things for Aya, the worse it got. It was stunning, disgusting in the regularity of bad things happening to them. It was like karma was still coming back to them.

Yohji took out his lighter from the back of his pants. That was the good thing about leaving old clothes around. He took a strong hit from the pipe, sniffing a bit at the end. Yohji held it, closing his eyes and dropping his head back. Holding the smoke in, Yohji felt some of the anger leaving him. Already he was starting to relax, letting the rage out so he could concentrate on the matter at hand.

Aya had never been so close or so far away, alone in their bedroom. Yohji had started to think of it being their shared spaced, of them sleeping together. It had just become so natural to be together. Yohji hadn't been separated from Aya in a while, except to shower every now and then. When had the bathroom become a place where Yohji wasn't with Aya? It was hurting now, to be away so long. It had just become second nature to have Aya in his shadow, silent and foreboding.

He missed the little prick. Yohji took another good hit from the pot, wincing at the pain in his throat. Yohji hadn't tried to get good and thoroughly messed up in a while. It was wonderful, letting him finally relax from the pain that made him turn around and snap at Aya, like an angry dog. It was immature, it was beneath him. It wouldn't be happening right now if Aya weren't such a dick.

Thinking about Aya alone in their room, still shielding himself with a sheet from him made Yohji growl in anger. There were some things he could live without Aya sometimes. It was a shame that Aya had to be such a jerk sometimes. It was all apart of that defense Aya put up, to cover himself from any kind of relationship. Aya's policy against any kind of friendship or love somehow protected him from pain. Yohji thought it just made him miss out on everything. He was there for Aya. Why couldn't Aya let himself just fall in love?

Yohji felt his muscles start to tingle with the pot as he kept smoking from the pipe. The candle had already melted a deep hole in the wax by the time Yohji noticed it. The anger had left him, and now he could just be oblivious and dense with the smoke. Yohji allowed his attention to drift away from being licking his wounded pride. Instead, he thought back on Aya, smiling. Now that he wasn't in the heat of Aya's anger, Yohji thought it was kind of funny.

Only Aya could chase someone out of their own bedroom. He couldn't believe that skinny little shit had thrown the bedside drawer out of the cabinet. Yohji was pretty damn sure it was broken beyond all repair. He sighed, laughing. He would have to put another item on his bill for Aya.

Aya got away with it because he was so fucking pretty. Yohji had a weakness for the finer points of feminine beauty. He couldn't help but think of Aya's face like the sweet lines of a woman's face, not the handsome straight angles of a man's features. It was crazy to be attracted to such a danger man like that. Aya would kill him if he knew Yohji thought of him as elegant, charming. Downright seductive without realizing it.

* * *

Aya looked down at the floor, where the shattered pieces of the lamp and the cracked drawer stared back at him. It was likely they were mocking him, proof of his tantrum. Why had he freaked out like that? How could he have thought Yohji was someone else? God, he had been so close to doing something too.

Aya couldn't help but admit to the empty feeling Yohji had caused when he left. Aya was still thinking about those few minutes when Yohji had just made him feel good. Aya had forgotten everything but trying to keep himself silent from Omi when Yohji put him mouth on his cock. No teeth. No painful restrains. Just Yohji.

He had lost it, lost all that fine control except for an embarrassed desire to not gasp like any girl would. It was mind numbing that Yohji could be good at something like that. That Yohji would want to suck another man off. It just didn't seem to fit Yohji's character. Aya thought of it was submission, always. He had to be beaten into obedience to do it without a fight. Yohji hadn't made him beg, hadn't asked him to do anything.

'I just want to make you feel good.' Yohji had meant that. He hadn't demanded Aya do anything. He had just loved Aya's flesh, adoring him. Aya couldn't believe it, still trembling as he remembered. Where was the pain, the hurt? No bruises. No slaps or kicks. It had been surprisingly easy to let go with Yohji. He trusted the man enough to know Yohji wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't take advantage of Aya. He had felt a strange amount of control, like he was equal and could have really said 'no.'

'It's your choice, Aya,' Yohji's words echoed back. It would always be his word from now on. Removed from the constant raw wounds and repeated blows, Aya could think a bit clearer now. He did have a right to say 'no.' He had a right to fucking kill people if they hurt him, if they tried to force themselves on him. Aya wouldn't bloody give into something as pathetic as that fear.

He glanced down on the floor by his foot. There was a condom strip on the floor, the connected packets glimmering from the city lights outside the window. It was his choice now. Aya could say no. He could refuse to ever allow Yohji near his body again. There was control now, and Aya was drunk with it. He had the power to say no.

Aya also had the choice to say yes. He had a right to enjoy things as well. Yohji said it didn't always hurt. Yohji wouldn't ever try to force him. These had become laws in Aya's mind. And he trusted Yohji. Aya bent down, picking up one loose packet. It was now his choice, wasn't it?

Aya took a breath, holding it in his shaky lungs. He had to gather himself together, to gather up himself. He wanted to be normal; he wanted to deal with Yohji like he usually did. Not like he was coming in off some kind of pleasure trip. Aya clutched the condom between one fist before he dropped the blanket.

"Modesty: determined unnecessary," Aya's mind decided unconsciously, efficiently going cold and logical in his thinking. He walked to the door, having to jiggle the knob a bit. The door jam had become warped somehow. Yohji had bended the wood stop with the force of his slam. Rude, selfish bastard. Things like this needed to be fixed, Aya though fiercely, ignoring the mess in Yohji's room.

He pounded on the bathroom door, already past the hall. He had walked so purposefully, Aya didn't even realize he had moved. He had already knocked on the door. Oh, shit. What had he done? Aya's breath suddenly left him, his hand frozen above the door. His other hand was raised as well, the condom held up between his fingers.

When had he decided on this? Oh, God. He smelt something outside the door. Vanilla? It was pungent, and Aya's nose wrinkled up sharply. What was he doing burning those awful scented candles Omi liked? Yohji should blow it out. After he opened up the door. Aya's eyes widened, realizing that Yohji was still going to answer to do and he would have to explain the condom.

The door handle clicked and Aya's breathing stopped.

* * *

Someone pounded on the door. Literally just hit the door as hard and fast as possible. Yohji could hear the prissiness in the fierce beat of the irritated knocking. Only one bastard would be knocking like that. Aya. How did he know Yohji had finally decided to try finding something to sleep on? He was pretty sated now, just tired and bored with the world.

He didn't want to deal with Aya right now. Who would? His bedroom had been fucked up, again. Maybe Yohji kept the room messy, but what right did Aya have to toss things around? Yohji pushed up, going to the door. He wanted to see the little prick's face when he said how much Aya owed him now.

Yohji opened the door.

Aya was standing there, one loose fist still raised delicately to knock on the door again. In one raised hand was a condom, small and alone in the individual packet. Completely naked. Yohji looked at Aya's face in disbelief. What was he doing with a condom, and where the hell were his clothes? Was Aya going to say something smart? Yohji was going to punch him if he opened his mouth. He wouldn't be able to take one more icy, biting comment from Aya's mouth.

Aya shoved the condom wordlessly into Yohji's hands, blushing red so fiercely that Yohji wondered if he was all right. It looked like all the blood had suddenly gone straight to Aya's face. He was almost as red as his hair, no longer that sick white he had been bearing lately.

Yohji stared at him. No. Fucking. Way. It was a trip. God, this is vivid. How the hell could he be hallucinating from pot? It was real. That was the answer. Oh, shit. It was Aya that was hallucinating. But those narrow eyes looking away from Yohji's face were real too. The fact that Aya was wearing less then Yohji was painfully evident.

"You... Rea…" Yohji tried to strangle out, pointing at the condom. Did Aya read the label? Maybe he had missed it. Aya's head snapped around to Yohji's face, his eyes going hard with an angry, offended look.

"Are you coming or not?" Aya hissed, obviously embarrassed and insulted. It wasn't any sort of fear instinct. It was Aya given him a condom. To use. On him. The thoughts were very slow, Yohji double-checking to make sure. Yes. Aya did give him the condom. And it felt pretty damn real right now.

When Aya turned back to the room, Yohji stumbled when he lurched up, dashing on his heels. The lazy, blissful haze that he had smoked himself into cleared up instantly. Wouldn't want to be left behind before Aya got to the bedroom. Aya glanced over his shoulder, looking to see if Yohji was still there, before grunting and continuing down the hall.

Did Yohji die? How could this be happening? What had changed in that hour or so that Yohji had locked himself into the bathroom? What was Aya thinking now? Aya glanced back at him out of the corner of his eye, pausing with his hand on the doorknob to Yohji's room. Was he going in? Was Yohji holding this condom for any other reason then was he was desperately wishing was true? Aya wanted to have sex.

"You wanna do it out here?" Yohji whispered huskily when Aya continued to stand outside the door, not moving it. Aya glared levelly at Yohji, a warning not to take the whole situation to lightly. It was irresistible to see Aya get pissed off again, his eyes narrowing underneath the perfect line of his bangs.

"Ken and Omi might see," Aya hissed, looping two fingers around a belt loop. Aya dragged Yohji into the bedroom by the waist of his pants, effectively hauling Yohji in before the two other men ventured upon them.

* * *

With the conscious decision to say yes, Aya had thrown all heed to the wind. Screw being afraid. It was about facing that fear and staring it down. Not running from this was making Aya dizzy with the control he had. Oh, Yohji could throw him on the bed at any second, but Aya could just as well knee him in the balls.

And Yohji wouldn't beat the shit out of him for it. Yohji wouldn't hit him. Aya knew this now. Somewhere between Yohji giving him a blowjob and walking down the hall, Aya had realized what Yohji really was. Yohji was always there. Yohji hadn't left Aya because he had flipped out. Yohji had given Aya room, Yohji had backed off and been angry, definitely, but he had backed up nonetheless. It was more then anyone had ever done before.

When Yohji had started to talk in the hall, Aya dragged him into the room. He didn't want to let Yohji ruin it by saying something smart. He didn't want to hear Yohji be sardonic and joking and hurtful as all hell. Aya didn't want that. He wanted Yohji just be good to him, to live up to his word. Yohji had showed Aya that he self-control enough not to fuck him blind. That was enough reassurance that Yohji wouldn't kill him.

Aya backed into the room, Yohji following him closely after locking the door. Yohji stood in front of Aya, looming over him, the top of his chest mere inches from Aya's nose. Yohji wasn't touching him, Yohji wasn't threatening him, but he was taller then Aya. When had Yohji started to tower over him? It was like Yohji had grown in the past few minutes.

Aya fell onto the mattress first, the back of his knees suddenly hitting the bed frame. It was unexpected and Aya reach out reflexively, grabbing Yohji before he could even try to help it. Yohji fell on top, throwing his hands out on either side of Aya's head and putting a knee between his legs so that he wouldn't crush Aya with his own body. Yohji wasn't trying to trap Aya under his slightly taller, lankier body.

Instead, Yohji kissed him on the forehead. Aya shifted, pressing his lips underneath Yohji's lips. This wasn't frightening. This wasn't unbearable, Aya unable to move because his muscles were frozen in terror. He couldn't keep himself still when Yohji kept on kissing him, moving down his neck. Aya couldn't resist against it, sagging a bit into the wicked mouth.

Aya couldn't stop the first sigh, pulled out from between his lips unexpectedly. He didn't think it would have felt good when Yohji gently licked the top of a nipple. That was a sensitive spot on women, not men. Yohji kissed Aya's chest, sitting up at the waist so he could start to struggle out of his pants. Nobody had ever warned Aya about foreplay before. Yohji had teased him once tonight, but it hadn't been the same. Aya had been concentrating on staying quiet and still, not wanting to be effected by Yohji.

It was impossible to ignore, now that he was trying to be aware of Yohji. He wanted to keep his eyes open; to prove to himself that it was still Yohji and it wouldn't be anyone else. Yohji was the only one who would be allowed to touch him. He could trust him. Yohji unzipped his pants, pulling the fabric slowly down his hips. Yohji wriggled his legs out of the jeans slowly, giving more concentration to kissing Aya as soundly as he could. Aya moaned once, biting his lip afterward even though Yohji was nibbling on his chin.

He didn't want to cry without abandon. He still had a bit of pride, no matter what he had done in life. Aya knew that he couldn't control every part of his body, couldn't remain completely cold and removed when someone had sex. The nerves would respond to stimuli, and there was nothing he could do about it. But, Aya could at least try to stay silent.

Yohji pulled away, their lips sticking together for a moment as Yohji drew away slowly. Aya looked up, in a somewhat of a daze. It was tiring to hold back. Yohji was excellent at seduction. He was skilled; he knew what he was doing. Aya was just trying to hold back, painfully inexperienced about what he should do now that Yohji wasn't some customer demanding he hold his legs like this.

Something rolled on the floor and Yohji picked it up from the side of the bed. Aya wondered what it could possible be. He had the condom, and Aya didn't think that even Yohji would take the time for lube. Rarely did anyone ever use enough lubrication. The small amount of grease that covered the condom was good enough for most of Aya's customers. It was never enough for Aya. He didn't expect Yohji to accommodate for him. There was the sound of something plastic popping and Aya clenched his eyes closed

Handcuffs? A dildo? Aya thought with a seizure of fear, going through the possibilities of what Yohji could possibly be taking out. What was Yohji going to use? He wasn't sure if he wanted to look. Then something pressed against his rear, slightly cold. Aya looked up at Yohji in mild surprise. It was a finger, gifted with an uncomfortable amount of lube, slick inside of his body. It slid in so easily that it hurt in a different kind of way, just pressing in against his body awkwardly.

Aya shifted his hips and Yohji twisted his finger, both of them trying to ease it. Aya immediately tried to adjust his body to it. Nobody had ever tried to make it easier for him, and Yohji took it for granted to use this small amount of protection, so used to making sure his lover was prepared. Aya looked up at Yohji in amazement. He wasn't prodding into his body roughly. Yohji wasn't forcing it any faster then Aya would allow, just easing his finger in to stretch Aya out safely.

Aya spread his legs a bit, settling back on the pillows. Yohji smiled at him, nodding before covering Aya's mouth with his own. Aya put a hand on top of Yohji's shoulder, feeling the muscles contract as Yohji pressed a finger in and out of his anus. He didn't want to fight this right now. It was so wonderfully slow that Aya felt confident he could stop it at any time. Aya didn't believe that Yohji would try to go faster unless he gave him some sort of okay. It was at a fine speed right now.

When Yohji hit the prostrate lightly, just scraping the tip of his fingernail across the sensitive body part, Aya broke out in goose bumps. How easy he was, so ruined by other men's brutality that it didn't take much to arouse him. Aya felt used, dirty, like he was spreading some kind of poison to Yohji through his skin. There was a reason to fight sex. Aya didn't want Yohji to feel the dirtiness that Aya lived in every day, surrounded by his own foul, spoiled flesh. He wasn't a normal lover. Aya was a prostitute, the lowest on the list of sexual lovers. He was a part of society that carried diseases, that was so scandalous and cruel that Yohji should be pulling away in repulsion.

Yohji put in another finger, not recoiling from Aya. He didn't know why Yohji was taking his time. Why was he special? Aya closed his eyes. No tears. He didn't cry. Yohji had loved hundreds of other people. Why would he take him time with Aya? He would probably leave Aya alone, soon enough. Alone, without anyone left to stand between him and the entire world. Aya was just another whore, a night of over-priced pleasure.

Fear was in those thoughts. Aya clenched his teeth together. He didn't get upset over little things like this. He had promised Yohji he would enjoy this. Aya had promised himself he would enjoy this. How could he back out now? He was the one who gave Yohji a condom. Aya closed his eyes, putting his hands on Yohji's arms. Yohji was still bending over him, working in Aya smoothly, just his fingers gently prodding something inside him.

Aya didn't know how to feel anymore. He was so used to the pain. The whole thing was surreal now, slow and dreamy. Yohji was taking enough time for both of them, making sure that Aya would be prepared. He was already beginning to loosen, forced apart by Yohji's massaging fingers. Why didn't it hurt? Aya shuddered, trying to ignore it. It wasn't supposed to feel good, it had never felt this good.

Yohji kept kissing him, making Aya loose the small amount of control he had. Aya hated him; Aya didn't want Yohji to stop. His chest was tight, his thighs starting to tremble. He knew what Yohji would do next. Aya's body clenched up in terror when Yohji pulled out his fingers. There wouldn't be any warning now, just that blinding pain of someone just driving in home, hard and fast without a care. Yohji prodded Aya's entrance experimentally, like Aya's opening might close up and bite him off. Aya trembled at the slowness, dreading the pain only more.

"You're so fucking . . . beautiful," Yohji swore when he starting to work his cock in gently. There was more lube there. Aya wondered why he wasn't exploding with how much of the goo Yohji was using. It was getting painfully awkward, so slick and unnatural. Aya was waiting for the firm, ruthless rape to give him something to fight against.

Yohji didn't make it a war. Yohji made it an agonizingly slow move, one long slide in. It hurt, but not the rending pain Aya usually felt. There was no skin being torn, no blood welling up. Yohji was being careful of that, like Aya was made of glass. Aya gasped, tried to make it fit in better. It was taking too long; it was like Yohji was trying to fit something much to large into something much too small. Aya knew he would loose the control and just shove in. He couldn't trust Yohji to take care of it. Nobody would ever make things easier for him.

"Just relax. You don't need to do a thing," Yohji managed to get out, resting in the stretched cavern of Aya's body. Aya's hips ached when he froze in the middle of trying to worm his way down on Yohji's penis. Yohji put a hand on Aya's hips, steadying him. There was a silent, stretched moment between them, Yohji taking a moment to let Aya's ass properly adjust to having a dick shoved up to the balls into it.

Then Yohji went to work, pounding into Aya slowly at first, setting out a basic rhythm to follow. The muscles below Aya's navel clenched, twitch as he started to rock against Yohji's escalating thrusts. He couldn't help it anymore; his brain rattled by the pattern Yohji was making him adjust to. Aya threw back his head, trying to shake it for 'no.' Why couldn't he speak right now? He couldn't make his mouth work. Yohji was making it impossible to think between being driven apart from inside and being kissed lightly all over his neck and face. Yohji seemed to be everywhere at once. It was insane.

Aya bit the tongue in his mouth, trying to find something to steady his world with. He locked his mouth on Yohji's. For a moment he waited, half expecting a slap or a blow. When nothing came, Aya let the tongue go from between his teeth. Aya wasn't one to sit back and take it willingly. Aya wouldn't surrender in the arms of another. He wasn't one to let Yohji do all the work and say that it was him who was in control. Aya bucked his hips even though Yohji was trying to hold him back with a tight grip, impaling himself further on Yohji's member.

"Aya," Yohji tried to warn him, try to stop him. Now Yohji wasn't the one in complete control as Aya fought back, though not with his fists. Aya didn't want to stop this. He just didn't want it to be Yohji's choice. Yohji said he wouldn't hurt him. Aya was testing that, making sure Yohji could hold to his word. It would be better to know the limits of Yohji's self-control now, early on. Aya didn't want to fall in love with Yohji. He didn't want to lose himself like that.

Aya sucked on the joint of Yohji's shoulder, surely leaving a wet, red mark. Yohji moaned, gripping Aya's rear tightly, lifting him up on the bed. Aya cried out, feeling a bit of the pain as Yohji pulled out, emptying him. Alone. Was that what it would feel like in the end? Aya needed more then that. He needed to be held, needed to not be alone. Yohji put himself back in Aya, fitting into the home he had made for himself. Aya lost it for a moment, Yohji grinding up against that small nub. Aya had been hit there before, other men jabbing into the small prostate more by mistake then any grace of love. Yohji thrust into him, fitting perfectly, shoving into Aya in a mixture of throbbing tenderness and the unavoidable pain. It was more then Aya had ever been allowed before. When had Yohji discovered every inch of Aya's body? How did he know how to make it feel good?

Aya felt his body spasm when Yohji came, ejaculating in the rubber buried inside Aya. He couldn't stop the tiny cry of ecstasy that came out of his mouth. His two lungs weren't enough to breathe with right now. The air was gone, lost in the aftermath of Yohji tiredly withdrawing from Aya.

The horribly excessive amount of lube started to drip out of his ass and down the back inside of his thigh. Oh, God. What had he agreed to? Yohji stripped the condom off like any other partner had immediately after sex. It was the most embarrassing moment in Aya's life as Yohji grabbed tissue from the floor, moving off of Aya's body in order to clean himself off.

Aya wanted to run. How could he, naked and vulnerable in front of Yohji's quiet presence? He wanted to die. What did Yohji see right now? Prostitute. Male host. Whatever the name was, Aya qualified for them all. Disgusting. How could he have seduced Yohji into this? It couldn't have been that Yohji wanted to do this. Now that the sex was done, Yohji would realize exactly what he had done.

Aya closed his eyes, wishing he could go to the bathroom. He wanted to take a shower and scrub the whole incident away. Yohji wouldn't want to remember it. That was why he wasn't saying anything as he crawled back on the bed. Aya forced himself to look Yohji in the eyes. He wouldn't back down. They lived together. They would have to face off sometime, and now was as good as ever.

Yohji winked at whatever face Aya had managed to make while flat on his back. The playboy smiled, falling on top of Aya like he was the softest mattress in the world. Aya grunted as Yohji gathered his body up underneath his own, his breathing still a little hard. Aya didn't know what to do, lying still. Why wasn't Yohji hitting him? Why wasn't Yohji demanding something, payment for Aya doing such a terrible showing? Yohji put an arm over Aya's chest, trapping him.

"You're… unbelievable," Yohji panted against Aya's throat, lazily landing kisses here and there. Aya shied away, expecting an inexplicable mood swing, for Yohji to hit him. Yohji kept on kissing him, on the mouth, on the eyes. Aya stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure if he could meet Yohji's eyes. He had thought Yohji would make it into a rape, would tell him that it was all just a quick fuck.

Instead, Yohji was trying to hold him close, even though Aya couldn't get his arms to lift off the sheets. He didn't know how to hold onto someone after sex, when they were still slick with the sweat. Yohji wasn't handing him a roll of bills. Yohji was trying to give Aya some kind of that after-sex cuddling, the act Aya had only heard about. He had never done anything more then grab the money and run after sex.

"Are you okay?" Yohji asked honestly, kissing Aya on the corner of his mouth. It was more then anyone had ever wanted to know about him. The hairs on the back of Aya's neck stood up, immediately on guard. What did he mean to Yohji? Yohji didn't spend the time to get to know one-night stands. Yohji didn't waste the time to sleep every night with Aya, to chase away some of those nightmares and panic attacks when they snuck up on him. Aya was frozen still, his ears ringing. What could he possibly mean to Yohji? Yohji must have felt Aya stiffen up underneath him, because Yohji sat up a bit, rolling off of Aya's tense, still body.

"I'm sorry, Aya. I didn't mean to rush it. I'm sorry," Yohji tried, very softly, hurt that he had done something to put Aya on guard. It was real. Yohji was worried he had hurt Aya's feeling. Yohji cared about Aya's heart. Had anyone asked him after sex if he was all right? No. Aya was used to being left naked outside in the hall, nothing to show for it but a pile of clothes in his arms, handful of bills and a small amount of blood. There was no blood between them, except the smarting rush Yohji was feeling on his jaw.

"I'm sorry," Aya tried himself, very quietly. Did his lips even move? He was sorry. He tried to tell Yohji everything he was sorry for. For being such a pain. For always being such a coward. Aya didn't know what to apologize for first. He didn't know why he had even said it in the first place. Aya bit his lip, trying to stifle those treacherous words. Just what did his mouth think it was doing?

Yohji kissed Aya, softly, forcing him to relax. Aya kept his eyes open, watching in confusion. Did Yohji understand what he was trying to explain? He didn't have the words for it. Aya would never be able to voice it properly to Yohji. He never wanted to leave Yohji again. Aya couldn't understand why he had hit him in the first place. There was nothing for him to be so frightened about.

"Aya, it doesn't matter. Did you like it?" Yohji asked. Aya looked up into Yohji's warm eyes. Aya hated every aspect of it, every memory of every painful night burned into his mind. He loved Yohji's hands, loved the soft calluses roaming over the hands, the way Yohji had made it not hurt. What was he supposed to say? What did Yohji want to hear? The usual thoughts came to mind, all without a single consideration of himself.

"Aya," Yohji said again, seeing Aya start to draw away, confused, trying to protect himself. Aya realized he had looked away from Yohji's face, watching his own splattered, sticky stomach and naked groin. There were still red scars on his leg, livening up because of the recent activity. Aya met Yohji's eyes again. He wasn't one to look away. That just wasn't who he was.

"Did. You. Like. It?" Yohji asked very slowly. It wasn't so much about how Aya felt. Yohji was wondering if he had done something wrong. Aya could see that in his face. Yohji needed to know if he had hurt Aya. It was something that would haunt him; something that would make Yohji feel pain years later if he knew Aya had been hurt.

Aya couldn't say 'yes' or 'no.' He wasn't sure anymore. He couldn't voice it either way. So, he just leaned forward, kissing Yohji back. Maybe he could share the emotions like that, pressing against Yohji's lips. He would never be able to say it. Aya didn't think he could ever tell someone that he loved them.

* * *

Ken yawned. Omi wasn't in bed with him. It was empty. How depressing to wake up to. He usually enjoyed a morning cuddle from his smaller lover. How late had he slept in? Omi probably hadn't woken him up again. Or had he slept through all attempted wake-up calls? Ken did have a tendency to sleep like a rock when he was in his own bed.

There was the sound of someone downstairs and something cooking. It was breakfast. Ken was already rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweats. Food did always manage to get him moving faster then anything else in the world. Ken was going down the stairs and into the kitchen before he had to even think about it. How wonderful it was to have a boyfriend that would cook him breakfast without even him having to ask.

The sight was quite a take back from what Ken had been expecting. It was Yohji who was dumping a burned, golden pile of scrambled eggs onto a plate. The toaster dinged and toast popped up in every outlet of the toaster, browned. There was bacon sizzling, burning Yohji as he cursed at the heat. Aya was sitting at the kitchen table, his arms folded underneath his head. He looked like a son who had fallen asleep after being woken so early in the morning. Aya looked a mess, his hair shooting out in all directions from his head. A coffee cup was half empty in front of him.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," Omi smiled at Ken, pouring a cup on the counter right next to the coffee machine. Ken just wanted to know if he got to eat as well. He didn't care that Yohji had never cooked for them before. Hell, Ken hadn't even known Yohji could cook. Yohji seemed to be efficient enough, pulling the strips of bacon out of the pan and laying them to the side of a plate covered with paper towels.

"Hey, what's going on?" Ken asked, taking the coffee cup with a quick kiss for Omi on his forehead. Omi smiled and kissed him back on the lips. They stayed like that for a moment, perfectly alone and together in the world. Yohji coughed from his buttering of the toast, hinting that they might want to separate before Ken went down on Omi on the kitchen floor.

Omi moved away first, going over to freshen up Aya's cup. A hand emerged from the folded tangle Aya had made of himself, searching for the coffee without lifting up his head. Ken had never seen Aya so entirely out of it before. Aya's hand brushed the edge of the cup and he found the handle.

Aya sat up slightly to take a small sip of the drink. He looked tired and absolutely content. Ken didn't know what to make of it, blinking. Aya had bags under his eyes, his face pale and wan, his lips a shade above being blue. The long eyelashes opened for a moment, just long enough to Aya to check the path of the coffee cup coming to his mouth. He had a smile on his face. Ken was sure of it. Aya Fujimiya had a very small, very slight grin on his face, hidden quickly by him sipping at the coffee.

"So, what's the occasion?" Ken asked Yohji, sitting down at the table next to Aya. The red head looked up wearily from over the edge of the cup. Yohji smiled, carrying the plates full of food to the kitchen table. Omi started to pass out plates and utensils, taking them out of the cabinets and drawers.

"Aya wanted breakfast," Yohji said mysteriously as he took his own seat next to Aya. Ken raised an eyebrow at Aya. The man didn't eat. It was like he was superhuman, never sitting down with them for a meal beyond coffee and tea. Ken couldn't understand how Aya could have skipped out on so many meals and get so skinny. He was relieved that Aya was eating though, or at least showing a bit of an appetite. It was far better signs then they had been seeing for the past few weeks during Aya's recovery.

"Bullshit. Like you know how to cook," Ken teased back, waving a burned, black piece of bacon from his fingers. Aya took it out of Ken's hands without a word, setting it on his own plate before Yohji asked him if he wanted eggs. Just because Ken was complaining didn't mean he wasn't going to eat. Aya nodded to Yohji and the playboy served Aya up, just like they were a normal couple. It was so domestic that Ken wondered for a moment if he had woken up yet or not. Aya and Yohji didn't do the relationship thing. They were both like lone wolves.

Ken watch Yohji serve Aya, filling up the man's plate with a vigor he didn't apply to his own stomach. Yohji was smiling the whole time, winking every now and then at Aya. And Aya just blushed lightly under the obvious flirting, slumping into the wooden chair and closing his eyes for a moment, looking like he might nod off. Aya was the sleepyhead today. The only other time Ken had seen Aya doze off like this was when he had a bullet wound in the gut.

Yohji put a hand on Aya's shoulder, and there wasn't the explosive reaction that usually followed any kind of personal contact. Instead, Aya just groaned a bit and sat up, like a child being berated. Ken watched the whole exchange, putting a hand under his chin. Something was different about them. Ken grabbed a new piece of bacon for himself, munching on it while he waited for Omi to finish with the eggs.

There wasn't any tension. That was it. Now that it was gone, Ken realized how stressed out Yohji had been. Yohji had just been wound up lately, like a hair-triggered bomb. Now, Yohji had a very satisfied, pleased smile on his face. Yohji also wasn't taking his eyes off of Aya, like he was the only person in the whole world. Aya was focusing on his plate, oblivious to Yohji's overtures, pouring pepper onto the top of his eggs until he had made a small mountain of the black flakes. Aya did like things spicy.

"Here you go, Ken-kun," Omi said, giving Ken the plate of eggs. Ken dumped a healthy amount onto his dish, trying to leave enough for someone to have seconds. He didn't want to look like a complete pig. He took the last slice of toast as well. If someone wanted more toast, they could make it themselves. Ken picked up his fork and began to shovel it into his mouth, trying to examine Yohji and Aya further.

Something was definitely up with the two. Yohji was sitting there; proud as a cat when Aya took the first bite of the meal and didn't immediately spit it back out. Aya was moving strangely, slowly, like he had no energy at all. Aya usually had a grace that made someone stare, even if someone was really pretty sure they weren't attracted to him. Aya just had that kind of face, that kind of beauty about him, that forced people to watch him.

"Yohji, when did you learn to cook?" Ken asked. The eggs were all right. It wasn't hard to screw up scrambled eggs, but Yohji had managed to burn a few sides of the fluffy things. However, they tasted like regular eggs Ken could get from a diner. The bacon was blacker then Ken would have liked, but only Omi could cook it to Ken's tastes. It was still better then he would have ever expected from Yohji's cooking skills.

"Hey, the ladies love it when the man can cook," Yohji explained with a flick of his fork. Aya sighed at Yohji's ego, taking another bite of eggs. Ken winced at the amount of pepper Aya put into his mouth. Omi was spreading jam onto his own toast, completely ignorant to the world around him. Ken smiled, feeling content just to watch Omi. He unconsciously started leaning toward Omi, drawn in by the boy's own inexplicable cuteness.

"Not in the kitchen," Aya snapped. Ken whipped his head around to Aya's deadpan face. What did he know about Ken and Omi's sex life? What right did Aya have to say that? What if Omi got offended? Ken wouldn't be able to forgive Aya so easily if he made Omi cry again. Once was about enough.

"Just what are you talking about?" Ken asked, trying to remain indifferent and calm. Aya frowned up at him, not showing a single emotion on his face. Yohji looked at Ken like he was crazy. Omi stopped in the middle of sprinkling salt all over his plate, glancing around the table. He had no idea what they were talking about.

"I wiped down the counter after you guys. That's an eating surface," Aya informed Ken. Yohji choked on the coffee and started laughing. Ken didn't think his mouth would ever be able to close again. Omi flushed a deep red, chomping on the toast self-consciously.

"You've probably done it-" Ken started, getting angry. Omi kicked him under the table, smiling the whole time. Yohji was still laughing, wiping at his eyes. Aya took another bite, ignoring Ken. Omi smiled through gritted teeth at Ken, trying desperately to keep Ken polite and in line.

"So, Omi, how's school?" Yohji was the one to save the conversation, even though it was an obvious change of subject. Ken stood up, managing to not knock the chair over, even though it would have felt really good right now. His shin hurt. Omi didn't pull his blows.

"Oh, it was really great, everyone was so happy when I showed up," Omi started. Ken went over the refrigerator, pulling out the ketchup. Aya glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, checking Ken's position. Aya was wary of anyone being behind him, even if he did have a chair between them

"Ken, you're not doing that…" Omi started when Ken came back, ketchup bottle in hand. Ken put it on his eggs, ignoring Omi's gagging noises as the tomato stained the scrambled mountain on his plate. Omi kept making vomit noises when Ken hashed it into the eggs. Yohji and Aya both stopped eating, watching as Omi almost fell out of the chair in his imitation of severe illness.

"Don't you have something to do?" Ken growled, though he wasn't really mad. How could he ever be when Omi was so cute? Omi smiled, gesturing to the clock on the wall. It was eight-thirty something. Ken wasn't the expert, never being punctual himself, but something was a little amiss.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" Yohji asked between a piece of toast. Omi shook his head, smiling at them all. Aya continued eating slowly, taking each bite one by one. It was good to see Aya actually putting something in his mouth. Ken was starting to get worried about Aya. He had gained back some weight, but nowhere near enough to be healthy. Aya was just shy of his old body mass, skinny and gaunt, not thin and lean.

"School doesn't start 'til eight," Omi said smugly, popping a small piece of bacon in his mouth. They were all silent except for the scrap of Aya's fork on his plate. Yohji took a sip of coffee, glancing back at the clock to make sure. He raised an eyebrow at Omi, and then looked at Ken.

"Omi, it's eight-thirty," Aya informed the boy. Omi shook his head, not looking at the clock. He really needed to go to school if he couldn't read an old-fashioned big hand, small hand clock. Omi started to wilt under the combined attention of all three of them. He chewed his last mouthful slowly, turning around in the chair to look at the clock over his head.

"Oh, my gosh! I'm late! I thought it was seven-thirty! Oh, I am so late! There's a test today! I'm going to be late!" Omi yelled, jumping up from the table. Breakfast was forgotten as Omi ran up the stairs, still screaming that he was late. Aya calmly continued to eat, taking a small drink from the coffee in between mouthfuls. Yohji was laughing quietly, trying to suppress it for Omi's sake.

Ken heard Omi's footsteps over their heads as his lover rushed to get ready for school. There was the sound of a door being slammed and then Omi ran down the stairs, taking each step furiously, stomping down in a rush. He had his backpack on and was trying to button up his uniform while pulling the belt around his waist at the same time. Before Ken even had a chance to say goodbye, Omi was already getting his shoes on at the back door.

"I'm late! I've got a test today! I'm late, I'm tardy!" Omi cried out once into the house, like they didn't know this. There was the sound of the motorcycle revving and Omi tore out. A car horn honked and for one moment Ken wondered if Omi might have gotten into an accident. He probably just cut someone off, because there was nothing but the fading growl of engines going off in the distance.

"Well, how's that for dinner and a show?" Yohji asked, propping an elbow on the table and putting his chin in his hand. Yohji was practically falling all over Aya without even getting in his personal space. Aya raised his head up from the plate, a tired, blank expression on his face. Yohji smiled so big his eyes closed with it. Aya sighed, but didn't say anything else. It was like they were married.

Or had sex. The sudden realization hit Ken right in the face. He put the fork down, not quite sure he'd be able to hold it properly. They had sex. That explained why Yohji was so relaxed, so satisfied right now. He had somehow managed to get Aya into the same bed, naked, and convince Aya to make love. Ken stopped himself from reaching across the table and throwing Yohji across the room, trying to remain calm.

How dare Yohji just move in on Aya like that! Aya had just recovered, just barely gained back his health from being nearly beaten to death and raped. They all knew what had happened. Nobody had spoken about it. Nobody even talked about their love life around Aya anymore. It was like a taboo. Aya had been brutally raped; Ken saw the still healing scars when he had to drag Aya out of the bathtub. And Yohji had chosen to ignore that.

Yohji had somehow tricked Aya into the act. It had only been a handful of weeks, barely a month, and Yohji thought Aya had recovered? It wasn't the physical that Ken was worried about. It was the emotional. Aya was a temperamental time bomb on a good day, and now he was nothing more then ruined goods. How could Yohji just take advantage of Aya's vulnerability like that?

"Yohji, we need to talk," Ken got out through his clenched teeth. Remain civil. Don't alert Aya to the fact you're going to beat the living shit out of Yohji. Aya didn't seem to think anything was wrong. Good. Yohji looked away from drooling at Aya's face to Ken. His expression immediately changed to one of confusion. Like he had no idea what he had done.

"There's something outside I want to show you," Ken tried, weakly. It was a lame excuse. He didn't want to do it in front of Aya. Aya might try to defend Yohji or something. Ken had heard about it on TV while they waited for Aya to recover. Victims got messed up inside their heads. Sometimes, the violence would be so much that it would trigger a defense mechanism, and they started to think they enjoyed it. Those words had remained fresh in Ken's mind, applied to Aya and not getting any happy results. Aya was to be handled with kid gloves, not fucked around with.

"All right," Yohji said very slowly, obviously questioning what Ken wanted to show him. Ken wanted to show Yohji a nice set of knuckles, up close and personal. He felt protective of Aya. Who would have ever thought that Aya needed safeguarding? Aya took care of himself. Up until this point. He needed someone to take care of this end of things now. Aya probably didn't even know what he was doing anymore.

Ken stood up and Yohji followed suit reluctantly. They were taking this outside. This was disgusting. Did Yohji have any principles whatsoever? Had he drank, smoked, and screwed all of his morals away? It felt like a universal law, be careful of the rape victim. The victim was Aya. The person taking advantage of him was Yohji. Aya stood up as well, thinking he was invited to this little brawl.

"You just stay there, Aya," Ken ordered without looking around. He didn't check to see if Aya followed his words or not, just stalked out the door. Ken's blood was pounding in his head, practically blinding him as he stepped out into the backyard. Sure, there were windows that Aya could see through. At least there would be a solid wall and a door keeping him from interrupting the fight.

"What is wrong with you?" Yohji snapped when the door closed behind him. Ken stomped further away across the backyard, snowing crunching under his house sandals. He should have put on boots so he could kick Yohji in the balls. Ken looked over at the house. The window wasn't in his direct line of sight, so maybe Aya wouldn't notice it.

"What is wrong with you?!" Ken spat out, keeping his voice down from yelling. Yohji's eyes widened at the vehemence, like he was complete innocent. Ken wanted to tear that face off with his bare hands. He was shaking with the desire to do violence on Yohji. Avenge something of Aya's. There was so little left for Aya that Ken was going to make sure that from now on, Aya had something to look forward to in life. And that meant not starting a fucked-up sexual relationship with a chain-smoking playboy.

"I can't believe you! You'd fuck anything with two legs. Hell, even one!" Ken snarled, grabbing the front of Yohji's shirt in one hand. Yohji shoved Ken's grip away, breaking off from the other man. He shook out the fabric, looking at Ken in disbelief.

"What are you getting so pissed about?" Yohji returned calmly, not about to be dragged into a verbal fight. Ken started the physical one, punching Yohji across his lying mouth. Yohji staggered back, remaining upright in the snow by miracle alone. Their breath fogged in the cold air, both of them eyeing each other. Trying to figure out how to attack. Yohji thumb the blood at the corner of his lips, not taking his eyes off Ken.

"Aya. You fucked Aya," Ken made it very clear. If Yohji wanted to play ignorant, Ken could paint a whole mural to explain the situation. Yohji's face went white with rage, the taller man making two fists. Good, now he realized what he had done. Ken was going to beat some common sense into Yohji about relationships.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You've screwed little Omi so much you should recognize the morning after. Or the evening after. Or the afternoon after," Yohji sneered. Okay, he loved Omi, true. The physical side of their relationship had definitely been well explored. But, what right did Yohji have to comment? Yohji had come staggering in at all hours of the night and day after scoring with his last lay.

"That's not the point, Yohji. It's what you did! Huh? I don't think Aya agreed to being another one-night stand for you!" Ken snarled. Yohji wouldn't have taken into account Aya's feeling. Yohji didn't think about those little things when it came to sex.

"You think I just . . . You stupid, fucking idiot!" Yohji bellowed. "You think I'd force myself on Aya? I've got a little more control then that, you piece of shit," Yohji raged at Ken. Ken was ready to kill him. No holding back on the shots, just kill him. He couldn't believe that Yohji was going to try and rationalize this away, or even say that Aya let him touch him intimately enough to be more then a hug. Aya didn't even let Omi or Ken touch him.

"Don't give me that shit. You don't care about anyone or anything beyond yourself!" Ken roared back. Who cared if Aya heard? Ken was trying to fix things for him. He wouldn't let Aya turn into another mark on the wall for Yohji. Yohji was going to be there for Aya, clear and simple, if Ken handcuffed them together. Yohji wasn't getting away with a quick screw, not this time.

"I care about Aya!" Yohji snapped back. Ken backed up at the look on his face. Honest pain that Ken hadn't noticed before. This was real to Yohji. He did really love Aya. Ken could tell by the look on his face, the truth in his words. That one little sentence had changed the whole situation. Yohji really did feel something in his heart for Aya. It was so obvious; Ken wondered how he had missed it before.

"If you cared about Aya, you wouldn't have fucked him over," Ken snarled. Love wasn't going to cut it here. It had stopped him from launching himself at Yohji, only by a small bit. He would try to be nice and talk it out with him. Ken would see this through for Aya. Aya didn't deserve to get left behind by Yohji. Ken didn't want to see Aya look like those other countless woman who had come by for a second round only to find that Yohji was a one-night stand, nothing serious.

"Goddamn you, Ken!" Yohji roared. "Where do you fucking get off? Why are you suddenly Aya's protector? I've been here the whole damn time for him!" Yohji yelled, so loud that the potted plants shook on the porch. Ken opened his mouth, and then shut it. Yohji had hit a spot, dead center. Ken felt guilty about that night, when Yohji had come home from the police station. He should have known Aya better, should have been able to read him. Instead, Ken just took the front act as the real deal, ignoring how Aya felt inside because he didn't want to spend the time to work past Aya's attitude.

"You just better not hurt him. Aya's dealt with enough, and he doesn't need your type of relationship," Ken left the threat unsaid. It was cruel to say, he knew. But, Yohji's comments stung just as badly. They were fighting like children over a favorite toy. But, Aya's life was no toy, not anymore. And, it would never be again. They would all make sure of that.

"I swear to God, Ken, you say one more thing like that and I'll kill you," Yohji hissed, stepping very close to Ken. Ken had to look up at the taller blonde. He had height on Ken, but weight and muscle was on Ken's side. He could still kick his ass. Right? But, when it came down to the morality of the whole deal, hadn't Ken been in the wrong more often?

Everything he was saying right now was just talk. He had nothing to back the words up with. Yohji had every right. Yohji was the one that had been there for Aya. Not Ken. Not Omi. It was Yohji that was allowed to touch Aya. It was Yohji that had been there with Aya all day and night. Ken had seen a few bits of Aya's nightmares. Only Yohji could calm Aya down after he woke up screaming.

"I'm just trying to look out for him. I've seen your handiwork before," Ken said grudgingly. He shouldn't be trying to beat Yohji. He should be trying to beat himself, right over the head. He was so stupid sometimes. Ken wasn't a complete idiot either. He knew when he was being a jerk, when he had made a mistake, just like any other human being. He just didn't always say it out loud.

"Ken, I'm not going to do that Aya. I'm serious this time," Yohji tried to explain, very empathically. Ken nodded. He believed Yohji. He could tell, now that he wasn't so angry, that Yohji really was serious about Aya. Yohji was really in love with him, Ken could tell by the way Yohji looked past Ken's head to the kitchen. He was making sure that Aya was still in the house, still in sight. Yohji was concerned about Aya.

"I'm sorry, Yohji, I just thought… Never mind," Ken tried to apologize. He couldn't really explain himself. There weren't any words to tell Yohji how sorry he was. Any excuse wouldn't cover it. Why did he always act without thinking? Sometimes working off the instincts was good. Sometimes, when you were dealing with these social situations, it was better to let someone else handle it. Ken wished Omi hadn't run off for school so fast. He could use someone to talk to, who would help him try to patch this mess up.

"Ken, you didn't think. Again," Yohji said, disdain clear in his voice. Ken looked up, only to see Yohji lighting a cigarette. It was like a magic trick with him. Yohji could pull those things out of nowhere and have a lighter to top it off. Yohji glanced up from slipping the Zippo into his back pocket of the pants. He was smiling.

"Oh, fuck you," Ken growled, without the anger. This was more what he was used to. Yohji and Ken teased each other affectionately. Yohji always pointed out that Ken never used anything inside of his skull. Ken always pointed out that Yohji was going to have to worry about impotence if he fucked one more person. They weren't mad at each other, not anymore. Yohji and Ken didn't like to apologize, so they did it in a silent manner. They just moved past the conversation and pretended like it never happened.

"I'll finish cleaning up the kitchen. Why don't you open up the shop?" Yohji asked, taking a long drag from the cigarette. At this rate, Yohji would die before he even started the more important end of his relationship with Aya. The brief month of quitting smoking had all gone out the window. However, now that Yohji had started something with Aya, they needed to have a healthy kind of interaction. Like him and Omi. Ken wouldn't say they were the model couple, not by a long shot, but they did work well together.

"God, you're grinning like a pervert. You say I'm the one with sex on the brain?" Yohji sighed, flicking ashes in Ken's general direction. They fell to the snow-covered ground before even touching Ken. Okay, so he liked Omi. Scratch that, he loved Omi, he was already missing Omi and it had only been five minutes. Omi should have just cut school. Ken shook his head, thinking about it. He was proud of Omi for going into college, even if he never told him.

The rest of them were worse off. Yohji had finished high school, barely, before going out into the real world and becoming infatuated with the nightlife. Aya had never finished high school, dropping out after his parents died to completely dedicate himself to revenge. Ken had started college, but after that whole mess in soccer, he had lost the scholarship and went into the assignation world. Omi was by far the most educated, already having attended three months of college. That was more then any of them had managed.

"Just go clean up. I'll do the real work," Ken told Yohji. It was going on nine o'clock, the time they should usually open up at. If Ken didn't hurry up, they'd probably end up with girls upset at the late opening. Yohji finished off the cigarette quickly as Ken tapped his foot impatiently. When the filter was starting to burn, Yohji tossed it into the snow where it hissed before dying.

Yohji went to the door and opened it, letting Ken walk through first. Aya was waiting for them at the kitchen table, his plate suspiciously empty. Had he thrown the food away while they weren't looking so he wouldn't have to eat it? Ken wouldn't put it past him. Aya opened his mouth, probably to tell them both off for fighting over him.

"Looks like someone's ready for seconds," Yohji mused cheerily, going to the table. Aya's eyes narrowed. Ken didn't think anyone was ready for seconds. Yohji ignored the obvious in his usual manner, spooning the last of the eggs onto Aya's plate. Ken walked toward the stairs slowly, not wanting to be involved in the fight that was bound to follow. Nobody forced Aya to do anything, much less eat.

Ken climbed up the stairs and to his room. Omi's clothes were starting to mix into the mess on the floor, the smaller pieces of clothing peppering the usual outfits Ken threw on the floor. Aya was the neatest person in the whole house. Omi was a close second, but Ken had started to rub off on him. The state of their now shared bedroom was messy. They might have to move into Omi's while this room went through a deep-cleaning process.

Ken pulled on a pair of comfortable old jeans. The knees were torn on both legs. There were rips decorating the pants, one on the lower leg, and another above his hip. Yohji had thought it would be funny if someone got creative with a pair of shears. Ken still found the pants to be wearable, if not decent. He pulled on a plain white tank top and realized with a bit of shock that it was Omi's. He couldn't believe he didn't know that they had the same shirt. It fit snugly, hugging his chest muscles and showing a small amount of stomach.

Ken grinned, thinking about the face Omi would make if he saw him wearing his shirt. Ken knew that the little monkey had stolen a few shirts himself. It would only be fair and proper payback. Ken tied a bandanna on top to hold back his bangs. He was going to have to replant the rose trees to new, bigger pots today. That was a sweaty, dirty work, and it wouldn't help to add hair in his eyes.

Finally dressed, Ken turned to walk out the door. The dresser caught his eye before he made it all the way into the hall. On top of the wood was a large, official-looking textbook. "A Introduction to the History of Japanese Government." That was Omi's book. Ken thought back for a moment, rubbing his chin with his hand unconsciously as he tried to remember what was important today.

Test day. Omi needed the book today for his test. In the rush to get to school on time, Omi had forgotten the textbook for the class. Ken had watched Omi studying out of that book enough to know that it was important. He couldn't believe Omi had forgotten it! He needed it to pass the test, Ken was pretty damn sure.

Ken grabbed the book and started down the stairs. With a little bit of luck and some speeding, he could get to Omi's school before the test even started. Never mind that he didn't have a clue to what classroom Omi would be in. Omi had left a schedule on the wall for Ken, but he was already rushing past the kitchen table. Aya and Yohji looked up from Aya's empty plate again.

"Where the hell are you going?" Yohji had to yell the last bit, because Ken was already out the door. He could tell them later. This was a big hurry, though it wasn't anything dangerous or life threatening. Ken opened up the garage door and grabbed the keys from the rack on the wall.

There, the Kawasaki racing motorbike was waiting for him. It was a piece of artwork, all black and silver chrome. The engine would outrun most cars, being much lighter and sleeker then those boxes on wheels. Ken grabbed the helmet from on top of the handlebars, cramming it over his head. He turned on the bike and revved it once, the engine growling in the closed garage.

He tucked the book under Omi's shirt, the stretch fabric keeping it tight against Ken's stomach. Ken didn't bother with the automatic door. He didn't have the time to wait for it to raise open. Ken tore out from the open garage door, making a quick u-turn in the backyard. Snow splattered on the windows and door of the house. Yohji was yelling from inside, but it was lost under the loud rumbling of the engine.

He yanked the handle and the bike launched itself forward, down the alley and out into the street. Ken jumped over the sidewalk and landed on the slippery road, using his foot to keep the bike balanced. As soon as it was somewhat straight, Ken was already off again, so fast a bat out of hell would envy him.

* * *

Yohji was still there. Yohji was cleaning up the dishes, the sun shining down from the clear sky and the light the snow reflected was cutting through the window, giving Yohji a halo. Whoever suspected that Yohji could actually be helpful in the kitchen? Aya had never thought for one moment that Yohji would have ever cleaned up after cooking. Aya would have laughed if anyone had told him Yohji would make Aya breakfast. If it had been any time before last night.

Yohji was there. It was incredible. Aya had never woken up with a partner smiling at him. Usually he found himself being beaten back into consciousness or shoved out of the room as quickly as possible. People weren't always happy when in the morning, after sobering up, found they had bought a male whore. Yohji didn't care about that.

Aya had woken up into Yohji's clear green eyes, the man staring into his face with as much love and adoration as Aya had ever seen. Nobody had ever looked at him like that. Nobody loved him. Aya had made sure of it. He had thought that he had cut off all ties like this. He didn't deserve the real world. Aya deserved to be alone with his sins, to contemplate on his crimes.

Yohji didn't think so, kissing him kindly on top of the head. Not on his lips for another go. Aya was wonderfully tired, a warm, empty ache of his muscles. There were no bruises or cuts to nurse that morning, only to blink in shock as Yohji hugged him close. The morning sun had shown Aya the entire world that Yohji wanted him to be a part of. Aya had never quite noticed how removed he had tried to be from life until Yohji woke him up that morning.

What had the man done that had been so different? Why did Aya feel like that toward him? It was impossible to feel the warm kind of affection that Aya felt in his sister's soft presence with Yohji in the same room. Yohji was a playboy, a tease; he wasn't serious. He was the kind of person Aya hated, the kind of man who thought he could make this night special. Everyone wanted a repeat of the movie, saving the beautiful whore from their abusive life. Aya didn't need to be saved, least of all by Yohji.

"How are you feeling?" Yohji asked Aya after putting away the last of the dishes. Aya looked up from the pattern of the wood table, blinking at Yohji. How was he supposed to feel? Was Aya supposed to feel this calm, this tired after sex? Aya always felt panic and pain immediately after waking up. Why didn't Yohji want anything from him? Was Yohji really content with just being with Aya?

"Why do you care?" Aya snapped back, short with his temper. Cover it up. Distance yourself. Aya didn't want to be open in front of Yohji. It would drop the mask he had built up. It would give a crack in his personal shield, one that other people would start to see. Aya would not allow himself to be taken advantage of again. He would never allow himself to fall in love. Not with Yohji. Yohji would leave soon as well. Nobody ever stayed with Aya. Nobody could ever stand him long enough.

"How do you feel? Aya?" Yohji asked. Emotions? What did that have to do with this conversation? 'How do you feel?' was a physical question to Aya. It didn't apply to his feelings. Aya had gotten rid of those things long ago. He felt like running. He felt like staying by Yohji's side. Where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to feel? Aya was left confused. He couldn't listen to his heart, not now, not when Yohji was so close to him.

"Fine," Aya said before he could close his mouth around it. When had he lost control of his lips? When had Yohji ever deserved an answer to a question? Why did he say he felt 'fine?' That wasn't the word for it. He felt tired, alone. He felt like Yohji loved him. Yohji didn't mean it. He couldn't. He didn't know what Aya had done.

"Good. You wanna go dancing again?" Yohji asked. Not go to bed. Not sex. Dancing. What would Yohji do with dancing? Would he make them do it in public, like some exhibitionists Aya had been forced to entertain at more then one point? Aya didn't feel comfortable at clubs. He was too used to having needles forced on him, people taking freebies in the crowd because Aya was too messed up to stop it.

"With you?" Aya asked. He wouldn't go alone. He couldn't go with Ken and Omi. They wouldn't be able to protect him. Yohji wouldn't allow anything to hurt Aya, he knew that. Yohji would stay close to him as well, too territorial to let someone try to cut in on a dance. Why was it Yohji? Was this what it meant to feel love? No, he just was confident in Yohji's skills and desire to protect him. Aya wasn't in love with him. He wasn't that emotional.

So, why couldn't he stop the sigh when Yohji put two hands on his neck? His body sagged underneath Yohji's touch, his muscles relaxing hopelessly as Yohji massaged his upper shoulders. Aya fell back against the chair, Yohji's hands brushing underneath his two long strands as Yohji worked to the front. His back already felt looser. Yohji was the only one to give Aya a massage properly. At all. Yohji was the first person Aya allowed near his body after everything. Yohji was still the only one with the right to touch him. Was that a weakness?

"Of course, with me," Yohji drawled into Aya's ears, resting his chin on Aya's shoulder as his hands went lower. They kneaded his spine; Yohji's thumbs gently pressing into his skin. Yohji's hair brushed over Aya's arm and neck, bristling and tickling his flesh. Aya let himself lean against Yohji for a second, closing his eyes. He already felt sleepy, tired. Content with Yohji.

"I suppose," Aya sniffed, pulling away. What was he doing, just falling all over Yohji like that? Over a stupid massage? He flexed his shoulders, trying to shake the feeling of Yohji's hands. Aya was stronger then this. Yohji didn't say anything immediately, just kissed the back of Aya's neck, right on top of the sharp bump of the top of his spine. Aya wished Yohji didn't know where things felt so good, so right. He let his head fall forward his chin dipping against his chest. He was tired, too tired to fight it. Feeling too warm again.

"Are you cold?" Yohji asked from behind. He was concerned. Aya turned around slowly in the chair. He was trembling. When had his hands started to shake like this? Aya didn't lose control of his body like this. Maybe he was cold. Yohji's hand landed on his shoulder, burning against Aya's icy skin.

"Yes," Aya said helplessly. He wanted Yohji to come back to the bed with him. Just to hold like he had yesterday morning. Before they had sex. He didn't want to do it right now. Aya never wanted to do it again. What the hell had he been thinking last night? He was a fool. Aya was now indebted to Yohji, he belonged to him. That was the way things went with prostitutes. Aya could only pay Yohji back with his body, knowing that money would mean nothing to the man.

"Come on, you're still tired," Yohji said. How did he know? Had Aya spoken out loud? Or had Yohji just known how Aya was really feeling? Did Yohji know him that well? Did Yohji love him for real? Aya stood up, away from the table, obediently following after Yohji as the man walked toward the stairs.

"Go sit down on the couch," Yohji ordered when Aya started to climb up the stairs. Yohji continued up, leaving Aya with one hand on the banister. Aya went to the living room, dazed for a moment. What would Yohji do? Why didn't he want to go to bed? Did he not want to be in the same bed as Aya, discovering last night just how dirty Aya really was? Did he want to have sex in a different room of the house? Yohji was a playboy, not a pervert, right? He wanted to romance Aya, not screw him. Aya laughed at his own thoughts. Romance was a joke. It would lead up to sex anyways. It already had.

Yohji tossed a blanket over Aya, his entrance unnoticed while Aya desperately tried to figure out his own position on things. What did he mean? What was he supposed to mean? Aya was so used to having no value. It wasn't supposed be special. He was a prostitute. Why didn't Yohji understand this? Yohji didn't even seem to care, wrapping the blanket around Aya, tucking it in here, wrapping it around his feet there.

"Wanna watch TV?" Yohji asked. Television was such a foreign thing to Aya. He never watched it. He didn't need to see dramatized version of his own horrid life. Violence and sex broadcasted on the public viewing were distant, unrealistic things. Aya didn't concern himself with them. He was above it all.

Yohji sat down next to him, keeping the blanket between them. No naked skin, no betraying contact of flesh on flesh. No sex. What did he want, then? Aya look at Yohji as he turned on the television, the black screen blinking to life. He flipped the channels, searching for something to watch. Aya was staring at his own hands, blankly. What was he supposed to do? Why wasn't Yohji asking for anything?

"Aya, have you even watched TV before?" Yohji teased. Aya looked up, staring at the screen, watching as people and commercials flashed by. He didn't really watch it beyond the news. Yohji put one arm around him, settling into the couch. Aya tensed, readying himself for more. Yohji found something he liked, some kind of music show.

It was too late for Aya to answer Yohji's question, so he remained silent. Yohji didn't seem to mind the silence. He seemed to take it as some kind of agreement, like he had figured out what Aya was trying to say when he didn't open his mouth at all. Yohji let his arm settle around Aya's shoulders, hugging him close to his side.

Aya was content to stay there. Just stop thinking about it. It was only Yohji. Yohji was the one Aya believed in now. He tried to watch the TV, to keep himself distant from the gentle pressure of Yohji's hand on his shoulder. The commercial ended and another started up, a picture of a small, thin child flashing up.

"Today, millions of children are deprived and in serious poverty," a familiar female voice narrated as clips of starving, young adults and children barely even old enough to walk looked owlishly into the camera. Aya sat up a bit, leaning forward. It couldn't be.

Aya-chan walked onto the screen, her hair done up in a stylish high bun on her head. She had two diamonds teardrops on her ears and a large choker that looked like it was made out of sapphires around her neck. She had a tasteful amount of makeup on, heightening her wide, innocent eyes and her cute face. She wasn't beautiful, but she made up for being absolutely adorable. Aya-chan was wearing a white silk blouse, the front opened up to show a large amount of a not so impressive chest. It was tucked into a knee-high black skirt, a huge belt of woven leather holding it on her hips.

"What the hell is she wearing?" Yohji demanded of the screen. Aya couldn't look at him. Couldn't look away from the screen. Everything Aya-chan was wearing was designer, expensive, and ridiculously out of place as she strolled across the dirt road of a village. Young children crowded her, reaching out with dirty hands, begging her for food. Aya-chan discretely shoved one over-demanding child down into the crowd before smoothing back her hair, turning to the screen.

"Please, help support these children. They need us more then ever. All we ask is that you find it in your heart to help one child," Aya-chan said empathically, even though she wasn't letting any of the children touch her. Aya felt his eyes burning. What was she doing? Aya-chan wasn't like this. She didn't dress like this. Aya knew, he was her brother.

"That little bitch," Yohji snarled as he turned off the screen. What was she doing? It cost a fortune to import clothes to Africa. Aya-chan was doing volunteer work, not going to a dinner party. Why was she wearing those clothes? Where had she gotten the money? Aya-chan told him that she put all of her money into the children.

"Aya?" Yohji was a distant thing right now. Aya's chest hurt. It felt like his ribs were growing smaller, shrinking around his heart and lungs. It was getting hard to breath. Aya-chan had lied to him. All that money he had sent her, it hadn't gone to help her. It hadn't gone to help children. It had been more then enough. Aya-chan had used it on herself. He couldn't believe it. All of that. Aya wondered if he was going to die right now. His heart felt like it was shrinking away into nothing.

"Aya, breath! Calm down, okay?" Yohji tried, putting another hand on Aya's opposite shoulder. Aya shook him off, trying to shove away from Yohji. He couldn't see straight, the world spinning in front of him. What was this fear? Aya felt bile in his throat. Was he going to throw up what Yohji had cooked for him? His jaw tightened painfully, trying to keep the meal down.

Aya tried to stand up. He needed somewhere to think for a moment. What could he say? Aya-chan had lied to him, lied about being totally dedicated to helping the poor children. She had used all that money for herself. It was his own fault for so selflessly throwing his life away for her. Aya was his sister, his last family member. He loved her, loved her with a desperation born of loneliness. What was she doing?

"Aya!" Yohji yelled when he fell to his knees. Aya dropped to his elbows, pounding a fist into the floor. What was this pain? He couldn't breath. His vision was gone, white static flashing across his eyes. He wasn't sure where he was anymore. Aya-chan had lied to him. What had he done to make her think she had to lie to him? Where had Aya gone wrong as a brother? He had tried to provide everything she could ever want, trying to make up for her having no parents. When had she changed?

"Yohji," Aya gasped out miserably. He had no one left to go to. Omi was gone. Ken was gone. Aya-chan was truly gone now, not just out of country. She was different, changed. Aya had seen that on the television. She had become spoiled rich somewhere along the way. She didn't know what Aya had done for the money. It wasn't her fault. It was his for being such a miserable brother.

"Aya, I'm here," Yohji begged, trying to put a hand on Aya's back. Aya turned around, getting up on his knees. He put two hands on Yohji's chest, ready to shove him away. Instead, he fumbled it. His heart was gone, his will was gone, and all Aya wanted to do was cry. He didn't break down like this. He was stronger then this. But, how could Aya say that when he was such a pathetic brother. He had ruined Aya-chan with his money. The dirty ways he had gotten the money had seeped into his innocent sister. It was his fault.

Aya ended up in Yohji's lap, just holding on for dear life as he cried. Cried, just sobbed his entire life out on Yohji's shoulder again. And Yohji didn't move away, didn't tell him to shut up, and didn't hit him. Yohji hugged Aya close, rocking him. It was all Aya could ever ask for.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: How uncomfortable college life is. I have my computer turned toward the window so I can bring something up on the screen and not worry about my roommate and the other various people that come in. Nobody in the dorms has a clue to what I write! Don't know her opinion on written pornography yet, so she can't know! The last bit of the sex scene was written while my roommate and her friend drinking coffee and standing on the other side of the room. Isn't that awkward? I really don't know everyone's REAL level of education, so let's call it artistic license. I really don't know a THING about motorcycles, but our goddamn neighbor keeps going off about Ducatis… They look nice, I don't know anything else. Just the racer bikes are the ones you lean forward on, and those are sexy! This is like the Friday/Weekend present for everyone… It ended up being really long… I'm sorry if it started to drag….