Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Let's get it on ❯ The Nightmare ( Chapter 9 )

The ride home was much like the ride out -- quiet. Tense. Yoji was thoroughly demoralized. They walked into the Koneko at about 3 a.m., and Aya went straight to the basement to write the mission report. Yoji dragged himself upstairs, already feeling a little sore from all the unusual climbing activity. He went straight to his room, lay down on his bed, and settled in for some serious self-pity.

 

Except that he seemed to have under-evaluated his level of tiredness -- brooding was hard work. Made a person tired, especially on top of all the climbing. Almost immediately, he started drifting off into a troubled sleep.

 

From which he was woken an indeterminate amount of time later by a scream. He was able to ascertain almost immediately that it was his own; his heart was pounding and his throat burned from holding back bile. He'd had variations on this dream many times, but this was... too much.

 

He sat up, cradling his head in his arms, trying to calm his heart rate and breathing. He noticed the sound of the shower, then glanced at the clock on the nightstand -- it was a little after 4. Must be Aya.

 

His head was throbbing, he realized. Maybe he could just go in there and get some ibuprofen. Maybe Aya would talk to him. Or, more likely, yell at and reject him. Well, whatever Aya might dish out was better than lying in his room, replaying those unspeakable images over and over until he drove himself mad. That settled, he flopped out of bed and set off for the bathroom.

 

Finding the door unlocked, Yoji just walked in. “I just need something for a headache,” he called, opening up the medicine cabinet.

 

“Don't you have ibuprofen in your room?”

 

Of course he did. They all did; they went through cases of the stuff. As usual, Aya was resistant to all attempts at casual interaction. Yoji stared desperately at the shower curtain, willing Aya to come through for him.

 

“Well?” Aya's voice was flat.

 

“Oh. Sorry. I got stuck.” Yoji ran his fingers through his hair. “I... had a bad dream. A very bad dream.” Might as well just throw himself upon the mercy of the court, if it had any.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

And damned if Aya hadn't surprised him yet again. Of course, it shouldn't surprise him any more that Aya kept surprising him. That's what Aya did. There was a word for that, something about a nun playing a drum... Oh, yeah -- Aya was a conundrum.

 

“Well, yes and no,” Yoji finally answered. “I'd rather just forget it, you know? But I don't know if I can.”

 

“Sometimes it helps to talk.” Aya paused, and Yoji could picture the tight little half-smile which signaled that Aya was in on the joke. “Not that I'd know first-hand. But I seem to remember someone telling me that.”

 

Yoji smiled. “Someone brave and insightful, I bet. Also tall and good-looking.” Suddenly, a scene from his dream returned unbidden, wiping the smile from his face. “I don't know if I can talk about it. Not yet. Besides, you probably don't want to hear about it.” Hesitantly, he added, “You were... part of it.”

 

Aya turned off the water and got out of the shower, not bothering to towel off as he approached Yoji. He searched Yoji's eyes, his expression as gentle and caring as Yoji had ever seen it. “Is that part of the reason you're so upset? Because I was in it?”

 

Yoji nodded, unable to speak as he watched rivulets of water drip over Aya's finely cut muscles.

 

“Then I should apologize,” Aya said softly. With no further preamble, he sank to his knees, yanked down Yoji's sweatpants and, looking into his eyes, took Yoji's soft, limp cock into his mouth and started alternately sucking and rolling it around on his tongue. It responded immediately, and Aya started moving his head up and down on it, perfect suction, perfect rhythm, finally swallowing it against the back of his throat. Yoji didn't want to come immediately -- he wanted to enjoy the experience while it lasted, and there was also an issue of professional pride -- but he was tired and emotional and his brain was chanting “your dick is in Aya's mouth in Aya's mouth in Aya's mouth Aya's mouth Aya's...”

 

It wasn't a mind-blowing orgasm, even though, as he'd suspected, Aya did indeed give good head. It was, however, an extremely welcome release. Yoji slid down to the floor and put his arms around Aya, leaning forward to rest his head against a slippery shoulder. Aya pulled Yoji into a wet hug and whispered into his ear. “Can you tell me about it now?”

 

Yoji swallowed hard, and haltingly began speaking into Aya's hair. It helped that he couldn't see his face -- he wasn't sure he'd actually be able to say it if he were looking into those eyes.

 

“I was walking down this long, dark hallway. I had this horrible sense of dread as I got closer to this door at the end of it, and I started hearing... You were crying out. God, I didn't want to open that door... I didn't want to see... But I had to. So, I finally walked into the room. And you were...” Yoji broke off. It was too horrible -- he couldn't go on.

 

Aya stroked his hair and murmured sympathetically, holding him tightly. “It's OK. Tell me.”

 

“You were...” Yoji broke off, shuddering, then forced himself to continue. “You were with Omi.”

 

There was a moment of silence while Aya waited for the rest of it. When Yoji showed no sign of continuing, Aya prompted, “I was with Omi and...”

 

“You were... you know. *With* Omi.”

 

Aya struggled to put it all together. Then Yoji felt him stiffen; his hand pulled away from Yoji's hair. “I was... *with* Omi? You mean sex? You dreamed I was having *sex* with *Omi*?” His voice had shifted from quietly reassuring to quietly menacing.

 

Yoji missed quietly reassuring. And the hair-stroking had been really nice, too.

 

Aya moved away, watching Yoji with an expectant, hostile look.

 

“Yes,” Yoji said. He couldn't keep from whining. “It was horrible!”

 

Aya stood up, muttering under his breath, the invective indistinct but still chilling. Aya brusquely dried himself off and pulled on his pants. Whirling around, he hissed, “You son of a *bitch*.”

 

Yoji slowly stood up, prepared to defend himself. Then he realized his pants were down around his knees and jerked them up -- hard to look like you might pose a credible threat when your pants are down around your knees and your freshly sucked dick is hanging out. How often he'd thought that...

 

“You God-damned whoring cretin! How *dare* you...”

 

“Look, Aya, it's not like I wanted to dream about you having sex with Omi. I'm a victim here, too.”

 

Aya looked like he wanted to kill him, slowly and elaborately -- maybe drain his blood and make pudding. Yoji sighed and forced himself to relax his defensive posture. He held up his hands in supplication for good measure. “I'm sorry -- really. I shouldn't have told you. I was so disturbed myself, I wasn't thinking about how much it would upset you.”

 

Aya's shoulders relaxed, and his expression slid into neutral. He closed his eyes, visibly gathering his limited reserves of charity, then he looked at Yoji and nodded. “OK. You were freaked out. I understand. Let's just... never speak of this again, all right?” He shook his head, radiating distaste. “Me fucking Omi,” he muttered. “I can't believe...”

 

“Actually, Omi was fucking you.”

 

The blood drained from Aya's face. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in fury. He didn't really move, but everything about him suddenly projected hostile intent. “I...” Aya choked out the word, then stopped. “I can't say it. You... I should kill you.”

 

The only way to take a statement like that from Aya was seriously. Yoji started strategizing about how to escape. Aya stood between him and the door. They were both unarmed, which gave Aya the advantage. Yoji eyed the towel. He could use it to smash the mirror, but that would give Aya a weapon as well. Maybe he could use the towel to choke him, if he caught him off guard...

 

“I can't believe you'd do this to me,” Aya said. His voice was now deadly calm. “I *trusted* you.”

 

And just like that, the spell of fear was broken. “Oh, you did *not*,” Yoji snarled. “That's bullshit and you know it.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Aya's confusion appeared to have momentarily distracted him from his murderous intent, at least.

 

“Trust. I'm talking about trust,” Yoji said, warming to the unaccustomed pleasure of righteous indignation. “I told you I loved you and you acted like I'd ordered you to set yourself on fire. Fuck you! You don't know a fucking thing about trust!”

 

Yoji took a couple of deep breaths and felt the rage desert him as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him with nothing but an amped-up adrenaline headache. Also, Aya was just standing there, staring at him, which couldn't be good. Ah, well... He'd given it a shot, and his immanent death would take care of the headache, at least...

 

“I don't understand you,” Aya finally said. His voice was flat, and his face betrayed nothing.

 

“Well, right back at you, you crack-headed freak.”

 

Aya narrowed his eyes.

 

Ah, there was the anger. “Don't make me kill you,” Yoji growled.

 

Aya smiled a small, dangerous-looking little smile, then took a step closer. He grabbed Yoji's cock, which was already half-hard from the arguing, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you going to shoot me with your gun?”

 

Yoji gurgled helplessly.

 

Aya's smile broadened. “Well, you can try,” he said, turning and walking out of the room.

 

 

the end

 

 

Thanks to everyone who's read and commented (and keep in mind that even though the story's over, my love of comments remains). Also, thanks to my sweetie for editing and for plot help in this chapter.