by Maya Tawi and Viridian5
part fourYohji noticed that Aya looked really put out over having him as his shadow during the mission, but Aya said nothing, being unable to complain about their performance while paired together. Well, Aya could complain, but his complaints would have no basis in reality. They efficiently went through their opponents like a two-man-- sort of two-man-- demolition team.
When they reached the last room, they heard Schuldig’s voice ask, "Afraid to face me alone, Aya?" Aya and Yohji scanned the room with their eyes but Yohji didn’t see him, and it didn’t seem like Aya did either. "No, that’s not it. You’d love to get me alone, but jealous teammates got in your way. I know all about that. Hey, Yohji, you sure you really want to be here?"
"Positive," Yohji answered.
"I can understand that. You know from experience what a slut he can be. He desperately wanted me to finish him, but I believe in leaving the audience hungry for the next time. At least I didn’t make him beg like you did."
Bastard. Yohji glanced at Aya and saw understandable fury. "You’re all talk and almost no action, Schuldig," Aya said quietly. "Maybe you stopped before you could show how inadequate you are."
"I had him pinned against a wall with his legs open, pushing himself into my hand, Yohji," Schuldig said. "You Weiß boys must be cold if you’d leave him so desperate that he’d fall so easily for me. He’s responsive like you wouldn’t believe, Yohji, hot and wet and ashamed and eager. Too bad you didn’t take a shot at him before I got there. Now he has to be drunk to spread his legs for you."
Aya’s mouth twitched a little as Schuldig alternately humiliated and ignored him, but he otherwise showed no sign of losing his cool. He kept pacing his side of the room to look for their enemy. Yohji, on the other hand, wanted to rip Schuldig apart with his bare hands and didn’t care if anyone could see it. He didn’t care about the jabs taken at him-- he knew the truth-- but hearing Aya being spoken of so rudely and reductively and with all intent to hurt him made Yohji see red. Schuldig wanted to use the company Weiß had put around Aya to protect him to wound him further, and Yohji refused to let that happen.
Aya mouthed, "Keep him talking."
"Why?" Yohji mouthed back. Why would Aya possibly want that bastard to say more?
Aya glared and kept searching his side of the room. Oh.
"At least he came to me on his own," Yohji shouted. "You had to throw him around and pin him to a wall. Doesn’t sound like anything you should be bragging about."
"Na, Yohji, you just don’t understand the deep and abiding bond Aya shares with me."
Aya opened a large cabinet to reveal a camera and sound equipment.
"You didn’t think I’d actually face the two of you all by myself, did you? You’re killers." Yohji could hear the smirking smile in Schuldig’s voice. "Someday I’ll get you alone again, Aya, and we’ll take up where we left off. You’ll like that."
"You get me alone and I’ll run you through," Aya growled.
"Sounds like fun, but you’d have to be a man again for that. How has the effort to change back been working out for you?"
Yohji expected Aya to bludgeon the equipment into silence with his sheathed katana, but after a few tense moments of rage Aya simply turned it all off instead.
"We’ve cleared the premises," Omi said through Yohji’s earpiece.
"We did our end as well," Aya said.
Mission completed. Time to go home.
Yohji looked at Aya, who wouldn’t look at him. This would be an interesting trip.
He and Aya left the building in silence. They reached the car in silence. Rode in silence. Yohji couldn’t take it. It left him alone with his thoughts about what he’d heard and how Aya had to be reacting to it. Finally, he said, "Listen, I know what he said isn’t true--"
"It is," Aya said quietly.
Yohji blinked. "What?"
Aya stared blankly out the windshield, not seeming to see the road in front of them. Streetlights illuminated his face briefly as they passed, then darkened again, creating an effect almost like a slide show. Fujimiya Aya, stop-motion animation.
After a moment he said gruffly, "Forget it."
"Oh no you don’t." Yohji pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine, and Aya turned and stared at him. Yohji stared back. "You’re not getting out of this one, Fujimiya. We’re sitting right here until you tell me how exactly you figure you’re a sex-crazed nympho lusting after Schuldig’s hot bod."
"Fine," Aya said, and reached for the door handle.
Yohji lunged across him, grabbing his hand before he could open the door. "For God’s sake! Would you just talk to me for once?"
Aya made a strangled sound, and Yohji blinked again, only then realizing the position he was in: sprawled halfway across Aya’s lap, clutching his hands. He felt his body start to respond and pulled abruptly back.
"See?" Aya said, sounding aggrieved. "That’s exactly what I mean. I keep having sex thoughts! Thoughts about sex! Constantly! And you guys are always around! And now you’re panting all over me and Omi’s there with his puppy-dog eyes and Schuldig keeps following me around and I just don’t know what to do!"
Yohji stared at him, taken aback by the unexpected outburst. Aya scowled back challengingly.
Eventually Yohji said, "Have you considered a qualified therapist?"
Aya huffed irritably and reached for the door again, and again Yohji grabbed his hands. "Okay, look, I’m sorry. I know you’re being serious. But damn it, Aya, if you’d just talk about these things.... I mean, if it’s really that big a problem for you, there are shops we can go to--"
"No," Aya said immediately. He looked a little faint. "Not a chance."
Yohji cocked an eyebrow at him. "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. So a woman has certain needs--"
"Oh, for--" Without warning, Aya wrenched his hands away, grabbed Yohji’s head, and kissed him.
For a moment Yohji felt like he’d been socked in the stomach. One minute he’d been teasing a teammate and the next he suddenly had an armful of Aya, a very female armful of Aya, mouth pressed against his like a drowning man gulping for air-- or, he supposed, a drowning woman....
And then the shock faded and instinct took over, and he slid his arms over Aya’s shoulders and buried his hands in the thick red hair, deepening the kiss. Aya’s thigh was pressed up against his, a warm, yielding pressure that made him feel unsteady, and her lips were unpracticed but eager, tongue thrusting enthusiastically against his own.
He’s responsive like you wouldn’t believe.
Yohji stiffened, and he felt Aya go still in his arms. Then she was pushing him away, swearing softly but fervently.
"Aya, no--" Yohji tightened his grip, keeping Aya close. "It’s okay. I just-- it’s all right. Don’t freak out, okay?"
Aya snorted softly. Her hair was disheveled, her mouth wet and swollen, her pupils almost completely dilated, with only the smallest sliver of violet visible around the edges. She looked--
He. He looked beautiful.
"I don’t know why I’m doing this," Aya muttered, pressing the heels of his palms over his eyes-- but not, thankfully, pulling away.
Yohji hesitated. "Maybe because you need it?"
"I don’t need anything."
"And therein lies the rub."
Aya looked up at him then, pained and needy, and Yohji felt his gut clench. God, he couldn’t. This wasn’t just a woman, willing though his mind seemed to forget it. This was Aya.
And Aya was his teammate.
And Aya was vulnerable, which happened rarely enough that it bore repeating-- Aya was vulnerable, emotionally and physically, to Schuldig and his perverse form of sexual blackmail. If Aya was weakening, was finding the telepath harder and harder to resist....
They were teammates. They watched each other’s backs.
And, lord, but Aya was beautiful.
Yohji kissed her-- him, he reminded himself sternly, remember what you’re doing here-- again, less fevered than before, a slow, languorous exploration. Aya’s lips parted willingly under his, letting him in.
They parted again, not as precipitously, and Aya made a sound that could have been a scoff or a soundless laugh. Yohji raised his eyebrows. "Something funny?"
"Not at all," Aya said, and kissed him again, pulling herself halfway into his lap this time.
Yohji pulled back with some difficulty and gasped, "We could go somewhere--"
"God, no," Aya said fervently. "We’re doing this now."
Yohji swallowed. "Okay, well, I don’t, uh--" He quailed under Aya’s wild, fierce glare, and said quickly, "We’ll figure something out. Oh!"
He dove for the glove compartment, ignoring Aya’s muffled protest, and fished around until he found what he was looking for. "Got it!" he crowed, brandishing the condom packet triumphantly.
Yohji lowered his hand, chastened. "Not so much, huh? We’ll do something else then. Start slow--"
"No," Aya said stubbornly, and Yohji noted with amusement that Aya was in fact a girl for whom ‘no’ meant ‘yes’. "I want-- that."
Yohji regarded him, suddenly feeling very old and cynical. "Can you even say it?"
"I can hurt you very badly," Aya warned.
"You’re turning me on."
"You mean I wasn’t before?"
Yohji tossed the condom back into the glove compartment with a sigh. Aya opened his mouth-- to protest, probably-- and Yohji said, "Keep your panties on, Fujimiya. Or, well, take them off, I guess is more to the point."
Aya looked wary. "What are you going to do?"
"I," Yohji said, "am going to give you what you need."
"That sounds like a threat, coming from you."
"Doesn’t have to be. Let’s take it to the backseat. Yeah, we’re both flexible, but why not make ourselves comfortable?"
Aya stared at him, then opened his door and got out. And went into the backseat. Score. Yohji grinned.
When he joined Aya, he saw Aya’s sheathed katana on the floor, lying there dark and malevolent. It could mean that Aya had voluntarily disarmed himself or that he wanted it within easy reach to slice bits of Yohji off if the situation called for it. The last thought made Yohji harder. He’d always known he was a sick bastard.
Aya noticed him noticing the katana, then looked away to take off his boots and the somehow still pristine white long coat, leaving the boots near the katana and the coat draped over the back of the front passenger seat. Yohji took advantage of the opportunity to drink her in without her staring back, his eyes lingering over the lush, lithe curves sheathed in tight black, the faded rose of her pouty lips, the porcelain pale skin and permanently disheveled scarlet hair, and the flicker of lilac when she opened her eyes. Virgin and pure, hungry yet hesitant, exotically beautiful and dangerous. Aya had been correct about the frilly and lacy undergarments Yohji would have chosen for her; they wouldn’t have been right at all.
Aya’s chest rose and fell distractingly with her rapid breathing. "So?" she asked, her deep voice sounding deeper and huskier.
"So. Lie back."
"I feel ridiculous."
"You look great." He slid forward and pressed her against the door as he kissed her. He started with soft and fleeting kisses, getting her used to him, teasing her to make her demand something more substantial, then deepened the kisses, getting more serious, finally parting her lips with his tongue. She moaned and squirmed against him, pushing her hips up to meet him and running her gloved fingers through his hair, pulling it a little.
When he pulled away a little, he looked at her again. She looked back at him with heavy-lidded, dilated eyes and slick, parted lips, a slight blush lending some color to her pale face.
"God, you’re beautiful," Yohji said as he took off his gloves.
She made a derisive sound that turned to a whimper as he set his hand between her parted legs and stroked. He may have been the second man to do this, but he’d be the first to give her what she wanted. Schuldig’s attempt to brand Aya with his touch couldn’t be allowed to succeed. Yohji judged how hard and how fast to go by the movements she made and the way she breathed his name at times. Kissing her neck, he smelled clean sweat and a hint of blood. Perfect.
She quivered. "I want the pants off. Now."
"I’d have to stop what I’m doing to unbutton them."
"Then I’ll do it."
"I’ll undo your pants if you’ll take off your shirt and bra."
"You want this as much as I do. You can’t do much while my pants are on."
"I can be more patient than you realize."
She sighed. "You’ve been dying to get a look at them."
"I want more than a look."
He stroked harder, making Aya buck. "What’s it gonna be?"
Her dirty look should have incinerated him, but she started to unbuckle the straps that held her top together, slowly revealing pale skin and a white sports bra. The slow strip made him twitch, so he took vengeance by being even slower, ignoring the urgency of his lust to try to one-up her. Once she had the front of the shirt open, he unfastened one button. When she took it off, he unfastened the next. All that skin, all his.... After the bra came off, revealing a lovely pair of perfect breasts, he finished the buttons and pulled down her pants and panties.
And stared. "You don’t shave."
Aya looked at him with obvious annoyance. "Think about that for a moment and figure out why that’s a stupid comment."
But she didn’t have much hair, and what she did have was soft. He stroked up her thighs and smiled as she quivered.
He had to take a closer look at her breasts, especially since he’d never seen a naked pair that big that didn’t have the gravity-defying pertness imparted by implants before. Real. They felt warm, soft, and heavy in his hands. As he stroked them with feather touches, he wondered how it would feel to put his face to them....
Aya looked deeply annoyed. "I’d ask you if you wanted to be alone with them, but I’m attached, so that’s impossible anyway."
"They’re beautiful." He smiled as Aya’s expression showed her taking that as a compliment, then getting irked at herself for it. "I can worship them and make you happy too." He took one rosy nipple in his mouth and sucked, while he returned his hand to its former place and occupation. Aya threw her head back against the window and made some wonderful noises in response.
Yohji realized that he was still fully clothed, but he was so turned on by watching Aya moan and writhe that it didn’t matter much. She was hot and wet and pushing herself against him for more of everything. This was power, making your partner want you this badly, being the one who could make her feel like this. Making Aya this crazy was incredible, especially with Aya quivering in reaction and looking so sweet and transcendent while in the grip of pleasure. No wonder Schuldig couldn’t stay away.
Besides, tending to his partner’s needs first always made Yohji look more sensitive.
He wanted to fuck her. She’d like it once she got into it, he knew that. But she was a virgin, hesitant, and formerly male. Don’t think about that. He would make her come without that, then later maybe she’d want to try the rest.
"This will blow your mind," Yohji said. And some other parts too. He bid fond, temporary farewell to her breasts and kissed his way down her flat stomach and lower, refusing to think about what had been there not so long ago. Lower.... Oh, she was so hot and wet for him. Well, he’d show her what a sweet mouth he had.
First Yohji had done things to the breasts that made Aya think that maybe they weren’t such bad things to have after all, and now he settled his face between Aya’s legs and did things with his mouth and tongue that left Aya completely unable to think at all. So much, so good.... As he put his hands on Yohji’s head to keep it right there, he knew that he was making animal noises and couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t even care that he was mostly naked, with his pants pulled down to his ankles, covered by a fully dressed man, not while the pleasure kept spiraling ever upward, becoming ever more intense.
Oh, fuck, the brush of teeth.... Aya came and came and came. Finally. Finally! He saw stars and blacked out.
When he came to, he heard Yohji shout, "Holy shit!"
Aya had a dick. He had everything that was usually supposed to be there and the things he’d had that didn’t belong to him weren’t there anymore. He was back!
An incredible orgasm and his body back? It didn’t get better than this.
"This happened before," he said, half explaining, half musing aloud. "It might last this time, but I don’t-- what?"
When he saw the nearly traumatized look on Yohji’s face, he remembered that life didn’t work that way. Yohji bit his slick bottom lip and looked away, saying nothing. Disgusted by the freak.
Dawning realization quickly turned to fury. "You utter. Fucking. Bastard," Aya growled.
At least that brought Yohji’s attention back. "Aya--"
"Not so sexy now, am I? Not quite your type?"
Now Yohji had the effrontery to be angry. "Damn it, Aya--"
Aya punched him, throwing his whole body into the blow, putting as much power behind it as he could from his awkward position. The movement felt familiar, practiced. It felt like coming home.
Coming home and finding his parents dead on the floor.
Yohji’s head snapped back, smacking into the window. Aya yanked his pants back up and buttoned them as much as he could, now that they were too loose around the hips and too tight across the crotch, and then threw the door near him open and got out, this time unimpeded. He grabbed his coat, shirt, and boots-- he wasn’t going to take the time to lace the boots up, if the female-sized boots would even fit over his male-sized feet-- and then turned, glaring icily at the man slumped against the door.
Yohji looked up at him, holding his nose, and said nothing. Blood trickled from between his fingers.
"Right," Aya said, and slammed the door shut.
He put his coat on, buttoning it in fast, hard movements, ignoring how tight it felt across his shoulders, then started walking along the shoulder, headed in the general direction of home. Yohji didn’t call after him.
Aya walked at a swift pace, furious. He felt cheap and foolish when he should be feeling victorious. He was back to himself, and Yohji had to ruin it with his disgust and panic. Who the hell had Yohji been having sex with? Not Aya. Yohji had just seen some pretty woman, the latest in his string of bimbos.
As he walked for the next 30 minutes and his feet, insufficiently protected by only his socks, started to hurt more and more, his anger turned darker. He hurt in so many different ways, he wasn’t sure where he was, and he had to walk some unknown distance home. Damned Yohji had to be an asshole and incite him to this.
Aya realized that he’d left his katana in the car, even though it had been under his boots. The cost of a dramatic exit. Stupid....
Yeah, he was stupid. Yohji was stupid too, but Aya realized that he had to take the brunt of responsibility for this little incident.
Why was he so angry? He’d known-- hell, everyone knew that Yohji was rabidly straight. He hadn’t shown the slightest bit of interest before Aya’s transformation, but afterwards he was all over him. That alone should have told him what would happen.
But then there had been Omi-- I always liked you-- and Yohji had said he was easier to talk to as a woman, and maybe, just maybe Aya had clung to the possibility that Yohji’s views on sexuality were as flexible as his own, that the change had provided an opportunity for his teammate to express feelings he wasn’t able to give voice to before....
But no. Yohji wanted a woman. He only wanted Aya when Aya had breasts.
Aya felt a small, unwilling smile tugging at his lips. The thought of Kudou Yohji, head ladies’ man of Tokyo, looking up from a job well done and finding a penis in his face-- well. There was, he supposed, something inherently humorous about the situation.
He couldn’t blame Yohji. Yohji had made his motivations clear from the beginning. In fact, the only person Aya could really blame was himself.
And he hated that. Hated himself for being weak and foolish, for refusing to see what he already should have known.
There was no real rational thought process that had led to the kiss. It was a lot of little things. He had wanted Yohji to stop talking. He had wanted... something else. He had made a conscious decision to throw the last shreds of his dignity to the wind, because after the night at the bar, after the sparring incident, and especially after Schuldig, he knew he couldn’t possibly sink lower in Yohji’s eyes.
For once, Aya did something just because he wanted to. Because he ached for it.
Because he’d reached his breaking point, and because Yohji had pushed him there.
He sighed, and then stumbled as a sudden wave of vertigo passed over him and was just as quickly gone. Aya straightened, cast a wry downward glance at his body, and discovered with little surprise that he was a woman again.
At least he could put his shoes back on.
Thankful that he’d shut and fastened his coat a half hour ago, Aya knelt by the side of the road and started to lace up his boots. One good thing had come from the evening, at least; he now had some idea as to what caused the change, and what reversed it. Maybe his body had been demanding sex so intensely in an effort to change back?
But-- his hands stilled as a new unpleasant thought struck him-- what if his body was now female by default? What if he could only become male for a few minutes at a time?
Aya banished the thought with some difficulty. He finished tying his bootlaces and stood. It was a power, Manx had said, and power could be controlled. He would just have to learn to do so. He could do that, once he figured out how to train himself to make the change without needing... well.
And Yohji had been good for something else as well; for the first time in weeks, Aya’s female body was no longer buzzing with the now-familiar persistent sexual ache. Instead he felt loose-limbed and relaxed, almost... happy? His moment of weakness seemed to have paid off.
Aya smiled, stretched, and continued the long walk home.
But he was swinging again, since the coat loosely fastened over the breasts did nothing to contain them. Uncomfortable, he snuck into a restaurant bathroom to put his shirt back on, which was tight enough to give him a bit of support. While there, he washed away the splashes of blood from the mission he found on his skin.
The woman in the mirror had a... glow to her, and she smiled knowingly back at him.
Yohji hadn’t meant to stop at the bar. It was already late, and Omi and Ken would be worried. Especially Omi. Yohji’s lips twisted. Especially about Aya.
But he couldn’t face going back to the trailer just yet, especially without Aya. Omi was going to rip him a new one.
He wasn’t too happy with that particular turn of events himself.
So instead he found himself pulling up to what he had begun to think of as Mikae’s bar and staring at the neon sign for a long time before he sighed, turned off the engine, and got out.
The place was half-empty as usual. Mikae was behind the bar, as Yohji had expected. He wondered if she ever got the night off.
"Hey, playboy," she greeted him when he slid onto his usual stool. Then she caught sight of his expression. "Uh-oh."
Yohji propped his elbows on the bar and buried his face in his hands. The true magnitude of his latest fuck-up was just starting to hit him.
"Make it strong and keep it coming," he mumbled.
"What is it this time?" she asked as she put the glass down in front of him.
"It always is."
"You ever see The Crying Game?"
Mikae stared at him open-mouthed. "You’re kidding."
"That’s... wow. I can usually tell, you know? She’s... very good."
"Yeah," Yohji said sourly. "Fantastic."
"So what happened? What did you do?"
What did he do? Probably one of the worst things possible. "I froze. I just-- yeah. I froze. And then she hit me."
"She hit you?"
"She was pissed. Justifiably so."
"Well, if you didn’t know," Mikae began.
"I did, though."
"You-- wait a minute. You knew?"
He sighed. "Yeah, I just... let myself forget, you know? Because I wanted her to be... her. I sort of... put it out of my mind."
"And then you two got naked. And you saw her dick."
Yohji hesitated, wondering if he could tell her that it had gotten farther than that. But he couldn’t, not without having to explain exactly where Aya had been keeping said appendage. So he just said, "Yeah."
"Because you let yourself forget."
"You are a jackass."
"I’d hit you myself if I didn’t want to keep my job." When she sounded annoyed and showed it in her face, she reminded Yohji of Aya, Aya as he might have been without the ice, Aya as he’d been slowly becoming since his change. Aya made up artfully punk... well, that wasn’t too far off from Aya-who-is, especially during missions.
"Hell, meet me after your shift and you can beat me up all you want."
She gave him a dark look. "That’s not some kind of euphemism, is it?"
"No," Yohji said miserably. "No, it’s not."
Mikae sighed. "Here," she said, and filled a shot glass to the brim. "Have a drink."
She really was a good bartender, but he felt relieved when another customer at the end of the bar needed her attention and she left him. As much as he wanted company, he also didn’t want it. He knew he’d fucked up and didn’t need the look in her eyes and twist of her mouth confirming it. He settled down to some serious drinking.
Sometime and many drinks later, somebody sat down next to him and softly said, "You have a talent, Yohji. You’re like a sadomasochist savant."
Schuldig. Fucking Schuldig. Or, in Aya’s case, not fucking Schuldig, and may it stay that way. Which painfully underscored Yohji’s situation.
Schuldig profaning his bar. "Get the hell out of here," Yohji said as he put his hand on his watch, readying his wire.
"I think not. Besides, you should be happy I’m here. Otherwise, I could be out stalking Aya. Since he’s out there all by himself the way you guys didn’t want him to be."
Damn, damn, damn. Yohji held back a groan and stood to go, but Schuldig grabbed his arm. "Let go of me," Yohji snarled as he tried to get out of Schuldig’s grip. He couldn’t get loose.
"You’re tipsy. You gonna go running after him in this condition? You won’t be much good for anything. Hell, you’d probably just piss him off."
"Which is different from the usual how?"
Schuldig pushed him back down onto his seat and let go. When Yohji stood, Schuldig pushed him down again.
"Get the hell out of here," Yohji said, though he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t defend Aya right now.
"Or what? You’ll try to kill me in front of this lovely bartender? You may be in your work gear, but I know your reflexes and thinking aren’t 100%. I’d kick your ass easily."
Mikae walked over. "What’s your poison?" she asked Schuldig with a ‘don’t give me trouble or you’re out’ expression on her face.
"Your best beer. Thanks, honey."
Mikae gave Yohji a look that could have meant anything, then poured Schuldig’s drink.
"Fumbling around, you’re doing more damage than I could do trying, Kudou. I have to toast you." Schuldig lifted his glass in salute.
"What do you know about it?"
"Everything," Schuldig purred.
"At least I had him."
"Then tossed him away like he was trash. Smooth. If he’d turned into a man for me, I would have just kept playing. People would pay for what you got."
"But I’m not you."
"As if that’s a good thing. He’s half-forgiven you, though, since he decided that he should have known better than to expect anything different from a narrow-minded, flighty skirtchaser who was only in love with his breasts. Funny how a guy who’s so hard on himself doesn’t expect much from other people. Probably comes from bitter experience."
Yohji could feel worse. He hadn’t thought that possible.
Schuldig lit a cigarette and blew out a perfect smoke ring. "He changed back again."
Aya didn’t even get the benefit of staying in his own body after what Yohji had done? It seemed vastly unfair.
"Yeah, it’s unfair, but that’s life. I wonder what’s going on with him.... Cigarette?"
Why not? Yohji didn’t think he’d fight well right now, and Schuldig didn’t seem inclined to leave. Schuldig being here meant that he couldn’t be hanging around Aya. And maybe Yohji could get him to theorize on what Aya’s transformation meant, since the telepath worked with people who had various unnatural talents.
"That’s the spirit," Schuldig said as Yohji took a cigarette from his pack.
"Get out of my head."
"I should. Not much going on in there."
Yohji leaned in close to let Schuldig give him a light. "Yet you’re still here."
"So it’s like a car crash. I may play it coy, but I have a fetish for other people’s self-inflicted mayhem."
"What a surprise."
Aya turned around on the sidewalk and saw two motorcycles pull up to the curb near him. He immediately settled into a fighting stance. While his katana might have been in the car, he was a weapon without it. The riders pulled off their helmets to reveal themselves as two women. One of them stared at Aya with blatant and rude lascivious intent, while the other just looked in open appreciation.
"I’ve been calling you for five minutes!" the lascivious one said. Her short, spiked hair gave her a boyish but appealing appearance, while her tight leather set off a lean, athletic body.
"Not everybody recognizes ‘Hey, pretty!’ as calling them, Yukio," her lusher looking, curvier companion said.
"Your friend is right," Aya said.
"It applies!" Yukio said. "You are."
Oddly, her energy and forwardness didn’t bother him at all, but he said, "I don’t know if I should talk to strangers."
"Strangers? Not us. I’m Yukio. The shy one is Hirumi. What’s your name?"
Why not? They seemed friendly. He shrugged. "I’m Aya."
"And now we’re not strangers anymore. In fact, we’re such good friends that we want to take you to meet up with the rest of our friends. It’ll be a regular hen party. I got a nice bike, yeah?"
"It’s a good ride. So am I," Yukio purred, then batted her eyelashes.
Hirumi laughed and put her hand over her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of her friend draped ‘seductively’ on the motorcycle. "That was awful!"
"I’ve heard worse," Aya said, and tried not to let Yukio remind him of Yohji. "Why would you invite me along?"
"You’re gorgeous and you have a walk like a jungle cat."
"Yukio! Shameless!" Hirumi said with a smile.
"You knew what I was like when you took up with me. I figure that the pretty and the walk are reasons enough. You’re even prettier when you smile, Aya. Do that again."
He shook his head but half-smiled anyway.
"Come on," Yukio said. "My friends don’t bite unless you ask them to. I’ll look after you."
This seemed quite ill-advised, but.... Why he wanted someone to look after him, he didn’t know. Giving up responsibility to others ended badly. But he wanted this and wanted company. Yukio’s energy and appreciation warmed him, and he could defend himself from her and her friends if necessary. Of course, the last time he’d done something he’d wanted to tonight it had ended with Yohji freaking out and him storming out of the car, but some good had come out of that, right? With these two women and whomever they brought him to he didn’t have to be the Aya or Ran everybody expected. They had no expectations of him, and if things went badly he never had to see them again. Unlike with Yohji....
And it wasn’t like he intended to have sex with them. He doubted that they’d appreciate having a dick suddenly in their faces any more than Yohji had.
"It’ll be fun," Hirumi said.
What Yukio wanted from him was obvious, but Hirumi just seemed friendly. That decided him. "All right," Aya said. "But I reserve the right to leave at any time."
"Granted," Yukio answered, smiling. "Get on board."
Aya straddled the bike behind her and held onto her waist. His perch felt a bit precarious, which only added to the odd thrill running through his body. It made no sense. He did crazier and more dangerous things than this all the time.
Yukio started the motorcycle, and Aya bit his lip at the sudden vibration teasing his body. Grinning, Yukio looked back at him and said, "There are side benefits."
"I’ve ridden before." Didn’t feel like this, though.
She shrugged and put her helmet on. They pulled away at speed, flying down the road, Hirumi keeping up. Hair and coat whipping in the hard wind, exhilarated, Aya kept his head down, lightly pressed one side of his face against the soft, worn leather of her jacket, and held on tightly.
After 20 minutes that passed far too quickly, they parked in front of a restaurant. When Yukio looked back at him, she said, "We can take another ride on the way back." She lightly brushed his tangled hair out of his eyes.
He followed them to a table already seating four women, who greeted them noisily and with great cheer. Aya stepped backward from it, then twitched forward as Yukio started to put her hand on his back. After giving him a thoughtful look, she said, "This is Aya. She’s a good friend of mine. Likes motorcycles."
"Hi, Aya. How did you meet?" asked a girl with bright red streaks in her black hair.
"We met 30 minutes ago on the street," Aya answered.
"That sounds like Yukio."
"You’re just jealous of my exquisite good taste," Yukio said, obviously refusing to be insulted. "Aya, this is Hatsue, Umeka, Ichiya, and Rei. Don’t worry, they won’t expect you to keep them all straight."
"As if anything could keep us straight," Hatsue of the red-streaked hair said.
"I flirt with straight," Hirumi said. "I like to have a dick now and then."
"So do I," Aya found himself saying. He couldn’t resist.
"We’re sorry, Yukio. You do have exquisite taste." Hatsue grinned. "Welcome to the party, Aya."
Hirumi sat on one side of him and Yukio on the other. Everyone sampled food off everyone else’s plate as they talked. It was... cozy, if loud. While the women came in many shapes and sizes, they beamed with an infectious joy that made them all beautiful to him. Though still loud.
Hatsue was in a band, but most of them went to universities and had mundane jobs that they did nights like this to escape. For example, Hirumi was an assistant to a madman, Moyotoshi-sensei. From the way the others asked for ‘Moyotoshi-sensei stories,’ it looked like her tales of his lunatic behavior and demands were a highlight of the group’s get-togethers.
"I know I’ve asked before, but why don’t you quit?" Ichiya asked.
"Then how would I amuse you?" More seriously, Hirumi said, "You know why."
They all sighed. Aya shook his head. Then again, Weiß had their own obscure references that a stranger would find inscrutable, and not all of them related to assassination.
"What do you do for a living, Aya?" Yukio asked.
"I’m a florist."
"You’re in some shape for a florist." Yukio’s look at him appreciated his shape thoroughly.
"You never know what a floral emergency will demand of you."
Discussions ranged from group free-for-alls to small subgroups of the crowd sectioning off a bit for more intimate conversation. During one such sectioning off, after Yukio discussed her group with him a bit, Aya asked softly, "So everyone here has been everyone else’s lover at some point?" It appalled him somewhat.
"We have friends who became lovers and lovers who successfully turned their relationship into friendship after the break-up. It’s networking."
This was the closest to decadence he’d seen since he’d arrived. Somehow he’d expected different of biker lesbians, like a seedy bar and wild, public sex. Hatsue and Umeka kissed and held hands a great deal, but that didn’t qualify as an obscene display of public affection, even if public displays made him personally uncomfortable. He knew it couldn’t be like in Yohji’s videos, but this seemed so sedate, just friendly friends and lovers out for a bit of innocent fun.
"How do you navigate the friends and lovers thing?" Aya asked. "It sounds like a way of asking for discord."
"I think the fact that we’re all women helps."
Helped them, maybe. It did him little good. Aya resisted the urge to sigh.
Yukio took a look at his face and said, "It’s about being considerate of other people’s feelings and not too possessive. And if you see a problem coming, you try to nail it in its early stages-- no matter how much you want to put it off and hope it goes away-- before it blows up into something big. Is that more helpful?"
"I think so." He still didn’t look forward to facing Yohji in the morning.
"Looks like dinner’s winding down. You wanna come to our sleepover at Hirumi’s place?"
"Sleepover?" A jumble of innocent and filthy images ran through his mind.
"You still have the option of leaving if you don’t like it. Besides, you get to ride my bike again if you do."
"All right." Surely they wouldn’t have fed him first if they’d intended to do him harm. And anyway, he was curious.
Damn, Schuldig could chatter. Yohji tuned it out as he drank, though once in a while some of it floated into his ears anyway. It could be that he was drunk and not paying full attention but he could swear that sometimes Schuldig launched into total non-sequiturs, seemingly unaware that his audience didn’t know how he’d arrived at them. Since it became more pronounced the longer they drank together, Yohji figured that it wasn’t his imagination and Schuldig was getting tipsy. Which was scary, because what would a drunken telepath do?
Yohji wanted him gone, but if Schuldig sat here annoying him, the telepath couldn’t be harassing Aya. Yohji figured he owed Aya that much.
"--Aya’s thing might be that... talent. Damn. What’s it called? Nobody here knows...." Schuldig stabbed the air with his cigarette in triumph. "Biokinesis. Thanks, Nagi." Seeing Yohji’s look, Schuldig asked, "What? Once I know someone really well, I can track and read ’em anywhere."
Yohji’s stomach did a slow roll at that thought. How well did Schuldig know Weiß? Yohji asked, "What about biokinesis?"
"Oh, now you’re listening?"
"If you’re talking, you must want me to hear."
"I don’t like repeating myself."
Yohji would play along. A little. "Please?"
"Well. Since you asked so nicely. Biokinesis is the ability to affect flesh with your mind. It’s rare. People have different power levels in it, and it can range from self-healing to hormone control to physical transformation. Change your face, change your body, change your mass.... Some people can only affect themselves, while others can turn the people around them inside out if they wanted to."
"Aya could do all that?"
"Hard to say. He might only have the ability to shift gender." Schuldig smirked, then looked almost thoughtful. "It should have shown up years ago. These things either start on their own in childhood or adolescence or get triggered by trauma."
Yeah, if seeing his murdered parents lying on the floor, having his home explode around him, and watching his beloved sister get run down by a car in the space of a few minutes hadn’t triggered the ability, what would be trauma enough to do the trick?
"Exactly," Schuldig said.
"Don’t do that."
"Read my mind."
Then Schuldig’s perpetual smirk turned smirkier.
"What?" Yohji asked.
"Just thinking about poor Aya walking home, alone and miserable."
"That makes you smile?"
Yohji didn’t know why he felt suspicious, but.... "That’s really what’s going on?"
"Yeah. It’s not like he was picked up by a group of biker dykes or something. You broke his spirit."
"Biker dykes?" Two words guaranteed to get his attention.
"Sure, Kudou. Aya’s living out your fantasy right this minute instead of feeling like he’d been totally trashed by one of his teammates, the one he’d opened up most to. You try to believe that."
As Aya held tightly to Yukio’s waist and watched the world fly by in a blaze of neon and speed lines, he saw landmarks he knew. At least he wouldn’t be heading blindly into the unknown. Aya tightened his grip on Yukio and the bike again as she took a turn at high velocity. Riding in a loose phalanx, the women seemed to be competing with each other for speed and daring, which made his current ride more interesting than the one to the restaurant. Funny how familiar and weirdly comforting it felt to be part of a group and yet not.
Yukio leaned back against him and wiggled a little, making him tingle and wish she wasn’t wearing a blackout helmet so he could try to see her face.
They flew into a parking garage, and the steep descent made him slide up hard against her back. When they reached the bottom one of the women popped a wheelie, and Aya could feel from the way that Yukio’s muscles were bunching that she wanted to do the same. He pulled on her jacket hard. She shook her head and kept both wheels on the ground, to his everlasting relief.
Once they all parked, helmets came off and some of the women whooped in exhilaration. "Sorry about that, Aya," Yukio said, looking rueful. "I got a little too excited."
"I’m happy to be alive."
"That’s the whole point!"
Umeka patted his back with a touch so quick and light that it could have been a butterfly landing and flying off. "Sorry I did that too. I should have known the wild one would take it as challenge."
"Don’t worry about it. My evening isn’t complete without a near-death experience," Aya answered.
She grinned. "Wow, being a florist must be much more dangerous than I thought."
Hirumi had an astonishingly large, plush apartment. Maybe that explained her continued work with the madman. She noticed his gaze flitting around and said, "I have a roommate who’s away for the weekend. The nutcase doesn’t pay this well."
While he had been impressed by the size of the apartment, he’d also been checking it out mission-style, noting objects that could be improvised into weapons if need be and the location of doors and windows. He didn’t belong here.
Yukio closed a hand around his wrist, her fingers lightly and comfortingly stroking his skin, and led him to a couch, though he didn’t sit when she did. She looked up at him, her face blank and slightly questioning. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Hatsue and Umeka going straight to one of the rooms and closing the door. How dare he feel manipulated when he’d known what he’d be heading into?
But Hirumi, Ichiya, and Rei simply walked into the kitchen, still sedate. Fear, confusion, and lust battled for possession of his unnatural body. Lust again, after what Yohji had done? He shouldn’t be allowed out in public to be amongst normal people....
"No evil lesbian plots here, Aya," Yukio said with a smile.
He felt the late hour keenly now. "I should go home. I’m not sociable."
"I couldn’t tell at dinner. Everybody loved you."
"This isn’t me."
"Who else could it be?"
Aya ran his hand through his hair and found it to be hopelessly wind-tangled, snarling his fingers, so he put his hand down. "I mean it."
"I picked you up because you’re beautiful and you were smiling, something I got the feeling that you don’t do often."
"That’s a lot of information to discern in a fast drive by."
"Hirumi let us loop back around again."
When had stalking him become a sport? Worse, he hadn’t noticed them on either of their drives by until they’d shouted him down.
"Okay, now I’ve freaked you out," she said. "Can you sit down? My neck’s hurting. You’re disgustingly tall, you know."
"I’d just left a lover when you found me. I don’t need anything else tonight."
"He must not have satisfied you too well if you were walking home alone in the middle of the night."
She didn’t know the half of it.... Aya shook his head. "I might not even be around too long." At least he hoped he’d change back for good soon, or at least find a way to control his transformations. She just looked at him patiently. "You don’t know me, and if you did you wouldn’t want-- I’m babbling like an idiot."
He sat down and rested his head against the back of the couch. "I’ll shut up for a while."
She slid closer, sitting near enough now that he could feel the warmth of her body. "Rough day?"
"Rough two years."
"I don’t have a single plot in me, you know."
"What about your lesbian recruitment program? Sweeping the streets for prospects?"
"That’s not evil. That’s noble community outreach."
"I’m sorry. I didn’t come here a total innocent. I just don’t know what I want, and I don’t do this kind of thing. I was telling the truth about the lover, this not being me, and how I might not be around long." He closed his eyes. "You must think I’m insane."
"All noted, and no. Aya, I think you’re just tired and cranky."
That sounded worse, but he could see some merit in the concept. He’d been tired for the last two years but kept running on obsession alone as a weapon of vengeance instead of a person. He could work one or more day jobs, assassinate people, visit his comatose sister in the hospital, and even get some sleep now and then, because he could rest when he was dead, a state he’d figured would arrive soon. But now.... Amazingly still alive, vengeance achieved, his sister returned to him, he could feel the cumulative fatigue catching up with him, rendering him all too human and mortal. And female now.
He could see himself explaining his behavior of the last two years to Weiß as a case of him being tired and cranky. It almost made him smile. "Why are you bothering with me?"
"Nobody’s tried before?"
"Some have." He had to smile then. "They didn’t get far."
"You didn’t let them." She put her head on his shoulder, and he let it stay there. "I’m a romantic, and you’re a pretty mystery with a nice smile. Probably a great ass too, though I couldn’t see it with your coat in the way. Besides, I have that recruitment program, better living through lesbianism."
"I don’t know what I’m doing."
"That makes you no different than 90% of the population. The other 10% don’t actually know what they’re doing either, but think they do. That 10% is often psychotic."
"That can’t be right."
"You’re so sure? Maybe you’re younger than I thought."
He wanted to rebut that, but she was kissing him and tasted spicy, like ginger, and it felt so good to have her there, weight and warmth. Though he had her in his arms, he couldn’t feel anything through his gloves, and that bothered him. The gloves had to come off....
Was he actually going to do this? "Why do you care about me? There have to be much easier lays out there."
When Yukio pulled back a little from him, her smile was somehow sweet and wicked at once. "Don’t want ’em. I want you."
"You know, Yohji," Schuldig said suddenly, "I love screwing with people’s heads. It’s a big thrill pulling their strings. But watching them do things of their own free will can be as much fun if the circumstances are right."
Schuldig laughed. "Never mind. You’ll get it later."
"Crazy bastard," Yohji muttered.
"Sad bastard," Schuldig tossed back at him.
As Yukio kissed his neck and wiggled in his lap, Aya finally took off his gloves and felt a moment of shock again when looking at his hands. His hands, despite the smaller size and less squared look and the chipped red polish on his nails that he couldn’t bear to take off because his sister had put it there. But he placed them on Yukio’s back and stroked them along black leather that felt warm and almost alive, then moved one up to the back of her head to find that her short, spiky hair stood up almost on its own without any kind of sticky hair product and felt downy like feathers. Tiny, boyish, she weighed almost nothing.
"I like the way you smell. What is that?" she asked softly.
Sweat and bloody mayhem, with hints of lavatory soap. "Exercise."
"Mmm." She cupped his breasts and fingered the nipples through his shirt, making him gasp and buck up against her. "What did this lover do for you?"
Oh, shit. Yohji, the sex, the shift.... He could change again, and this time he didn’t want to. At least not here. He had to be careful.... "I don’t--"
"You don’t have to tell me. I’m just a kinky little bitch." Her dark eyes made promises.
"He... stroked me, played with my breasts a bit, went down on me."
"He didn’t...? Well." She rocked against him and toyed with his nipples further. "Hey, you wanna take this to a bedroom? The girls could finish in the kitchen at any time, and you don’t strike me as a willing exhibitionist yet."
The bedroom would make it more real, but the mental image of the rest of the party coming out sated to find a new show waiting for them on the couch spurred him to say, "Yeah." Far from brilliant, but he could barely think. He noticed that his voice almost sounded as deep as it should.
Yukio slid off him backward and helped pull him off the couch, to his amusement. The bedroom did make it feel more real and set his pulse racing.
Her height put her mouth at the level of his breasts, and she nuzzled them with her face as she said, "Shh. It’s okay." She stepped back and started to strip, revealing more smooth amber-gold skin, so much more appealing than his own pallor. "You know, the polite thing to do would be to take off your clothes too."
"Nobody informed me. Was there a manual handed out?"
"Consider me your wake-up call."
"Right." He took off his coat and tossed it to the side, hitting the chair perfectly.
"You can admire my body and strip at the same time."
"Thank you for the subtle hint." She watched him at least as hungrily as Yohji had while he unbuckled his shirt, though for her every strap undone led to a better view of his breasts instead of a bra.
She took in a deep, surprised breath. "Fuck, I could bounce a coin off your stomach."
His flush of pride gave way to confusion as she dropped to the floor and grabbed her jacket. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I have to test this out!"
Maybe she matched him in insanity after all. "You’re not bouncing anything off me. Except maybe yourself."
"You’re the one who wants to throw things at me."
He really didn’t expect her to tackle him. They landed on the bed with him underneath her, his shirt on but open down the front and her in bra, pants, and boots. He had his own pants and boots as well. Lying entwined like this seemed counterproductive to getting naked, but her kisses and wiggling made complaining seem churlish.
"And the mighty lioness takes down the antelope," Yukio said as she nuzzled his neck.
"You’re the tiniest lioness I’ve ever seen."
"Yet I bagged the big game. Damn, we’re not getting undressed any faster this way." She climbed off of him.
"Yukio!" Did he just whine?
She sat on the side of the bed and looked over her shoulder at him. "Take your boots off. With their height and those laces, it’d be almost impossible to get your pants down while you’re wearing those things."
He sighed and started to untie his boots, trying to ignore the now-familiar pulsing ache he felt in places he shouldn’t even possess. Her boots came right off, and when she stood to remove her pants he took advantage of the moment to lightly stroke a line down her back, smiling as she shivered.
Finally they both achieved nakedness, and she climbed on top of him again, stroking, nuzzling, murmuring endearments about how beautiful and sweet he was like a small erotic hurricane. He reciprocated at a slower speed and groaned as she rubbed her breasts against his. She smelled and tasted and felt so good that she’d rendered him nearly frantic with lust and unsure whether he should let her know that as much as he enjoyed the caresses and kisses he didn’t need any more foreplay at all. Even the slide of the sheets against his skin made him insane.
"You want to get to the main event, don’t you?" she asked with a smile. "I can tell. You’re quivering with impatience. Well, I can make it more eventful if you’re open to try something."
Without getting entirely off him, she leaned down to the floor, pulled a suitcase out from under the bed, and removed a box from it. Then she slid off him to sit near his head. When Yukio opened the box to show him its contents, his eyes took in red leather, the straps of a harness, an O ring. Next to it lay a dildo, also red, stylized to look less like a cock and more like a modern sculpture. The narrow tip had a figurehead. Looking at it closely, he realized that it was sculpted to look like a cat, inspiring all kinds of Kitten in the House jokes that he would never, ever say aloud. The dildo felt firm yet also somewhat yielding as he touched it, like nothing he’d ever felt before. He jumped back a little as a vibration started to run through it.
He directed a questioning look at Yukio, who grinned again and said, "I get the feeling that you like to be challenged, and you said you like to have a dick once in a while."
What did he feel right now? Aside from incredulous. He felt fear, fascination, impatience.... He actually wanted this, wanted it now. The fear added spice.
Funny how just hours earlier he had vehemently rejected Yohji’s suggestion that he buy a sex toy of his very own. But then, he supposed, using Yukio’s required no monetary investment, no awkward questions of storage or the necessary privacy to use such a thing. This was a level of commitment he felt comfortable with.
And, most importantly, he wouldn’t have to live with Yohji knowing about it.
He knew it said worrying things about him that he found the thought of being fucked by a rod of silicone wielded by a near stranger less frightening than being fucked by the live body part of a friend. Only he would prefer that the first time he was fucked it be by a woman.
Yukio’s smile deepened. "You want it."
He realized that he was stroking it. "Yeah."
Watching her fit the dildo into the harness and then strap it all on left him nearly insane with wanting. Seeing her close her eyes and smile from the vibration made him bite his lip. Watching her stroke some lubricant onto the dildo left him impatient.
"Now, now," she said. "I want this to be good for you." Feeling utterly wanton, he opened his legs to give her better access, and she settled herself between them, lining herself up. "Damn, you’re hot.
"Easy, easy," Yukio murmured, but being easy had gotten him into this. Panting, he concentrated on relaxing as he felt a slow pressure slide into him. Oh, it hurt, but in an oddly good way. Wrong, some part of him tried to say, this is wrong, but he didn’t care. How could something wrong feel this good? Right now it was right, especially since the vibration left him sparkling from the inside.
Don’t change, don’t change.... He emphatically didn’t want to right now, not with an unlikely object inside him in an impossible place giving him more pleasure than he knew how to handle. She stopped once she’d pushed all the way in, and he could feel the O ring and leather against him and the unbelievable fullness inside him. And the vibration.... His body had been screaming for something like this for weeks. Then she started to move slowly, in and out, in and out, rocking, as her fingertips also rubbed that spot that Yohji had manipulated earlier, with similarly explosive results. Aya was almost there....
"Harder," he gasped. "Please...." He writhed under her thrusts and her stroking and rubbing him there and her mouth nuzzling the undersides of his breasts. She felt slick and hot against his fingers as he tried to give her some measure of the pleasure she gave him. When his fingers slid into her and his thumb rubbed the right area hard, she yelled and bucked into him harder. Overwhelmed, he came in a rush of sparks and color, feeling like liquid pleasure.
When he could think again, he realized that he hadn’t changed back. Still female, he rested under Yukio, with her dildo still buzzing inside him, now starting to become uncomfortably too much to bear for his sensitized body. Did that mean that he could control the shifts somewhat?
When he shifted in response, she kissed his belly and slowly pulled out. He felt wonderful now, almost obscenely satisfied.
"Nice smile," she gasped.
He languidly stroked the soft leather of her harness. "That was... very nice."
She smacked his arm playfully. "Nice? Just nice?"
"It’s good enough to describe my smile but not anything else? Besides, I said very nice." What would be the right thing to say? "You were great." It was even true.
"Thank you." As she removed the harness, she said, "You know, you never took your shirt off all the way. It’s cute."
He still had his arms and back covered, and some of the buckles of the gaping front brushed his thigh. "I had other things on my mind." He took it off now, then yawned as he settled in again.
"You can sleep. Sounds like you had a busy night."
"It would be rude." Not that he usually cared about being rude. Rudeness got things done.
"I’ll take it as a compliment." She pulled the covers over them. "Good night, sleeping beauty."
Comfortable, he fell asleep instantly.
Some time ago Schuldig had closed his eyes, stopped talking, and gone into some kind of trance, breathing hard the whole way. He looked far too happy. As much as it creeped Yohji out, at least he didn’t have to listen to him purr and insinuate.
Yohji stubbed his cigarette out and peered around the bar, trying to focus. His head was spinning, things were starting to blur... but he was pretty sure he wasn’t seeing double yet.
Aloud, he mused, "I’ve never seen this place so crowded."
Schuldig smiled, catlike. "I know."
Yohji blinked. As he started to process this, Schuldig moved with blinding speed, sliding off his stool and backing Yohji up against the bar, and Yohji couldn’t remember when he had stood up and turned away from the bar, hadn’t even thought himself able to at this stage of drunkenness. Schuldig planted his hands on either side of Yohji, effectively boxing him in.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Yohji demanded. His hand automatically went to his watch. Like he could do anything before Schuldig stopped him.
"Oh, come on." Schuldig’s voice was a dangerous, insinuating purr. "Don’t tell me you don’t understand it, what he sees in me."
Yohji managed to say, "Think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?" His mouth was suddenly dry. His body was remembering that yes, in fact, it had been extremely turned on not very long ago, and nothing had been done about it since.
Schuldig smirked. The expression boded ill and, God help him, it just turned him on even more. He really was a sick puppy....
"Oh, but I forgot. You like your men to be women, don’t you?"
And with that, Schuldig changed.
Yohji gaped at the woman in front of him, still with Schuldig’s long, flyaway orange hair and slanted blue eyes and permanent smirk, but now distinctly female. A detached part of his brain observed that he now knew enough redheaded man-woman-things to last anyone a lifetime.
"You-- wha-- you," he stammered, as Schuldig-- She-Schuldig-- continued to grin at him from entirely too close. "You-- you’re--"
"Finish your sentence," Schuldig suggested, trailing one long finger down Yohji’s jawline. Yohji flinched away. "I’m not a mind reader, after all-- oh, wait."
Yohji glanced nervously over his shoulder, wondering if Mikae had noticed. If he was in fact drunk enough to be hallucinating, or if-- "You have Aya’s power too!"
Schuldig snickered. His breath tickled Yohji’s ear. "Not the brightest bulb on the tree, are you, Kudou?"
"Hey!" Yohji said indignantly. And besides.... "Trees don’t have bulbs."
Schuldig moved lightning-fast, grabbing Yohji’s hand and pressing it to the front of his tailored slacks before Yohji could resist. The feel of the hard, hot flesh under his palm made him gasp, and he tried to pull away. Schuldig tightened his grip.
"Little mind trick I like," Schuldig said, as Yohji struggled futilely to free his hand. "Not quite of the Jedi persuasion. Oh, I like that. Do that again."
Yohji glanced back at Mikae again, half-wanting her to intervene, half-hoping for her sake she’d stay away. She was busy at the other end of the bar, looking uncharacteristically harried.
"Oh, you know better than that," Schuldig murmured, pressing closer. "No one’s going to bother us, Kudou. We’re on our own."
Fuck, if only his head would stop spinning, if only Schuldig would stop standing so close.... "What are you gonna do?" he demanded, his voice unsteady to his own ears. "Rape me here, in front of everyone?"
Schuldig’s sudden delighted grin made his stomach twist. "You know, I never thought of that? Now that’s an idea with potential. I like the way you think."
Without warning he pressed a harsh, bruising kiss to Yohji’s surprised lips, then drew back with that same damned smirk. And then, abruptly, the female façade dropped, leaving the original male Schuldig reaching once again for his beer.
"Some other time," he promised, sliding back onto his own bar stool. "I’m not in the mood."
Yohji closed his eyes again and let his head fall back. His breath came in short harsh pants. His lips burned. His dick was hard as a rock.
Obviously straight didn’t mean as much as it used to.
Behind him, Mikae’s voice said, "Get you anything else, hotshot?"
"I think he’s well taken care of," Schuldig said. Without looking Yohji grabbed Schuldig’s mug and drained its contents in two long gulps. Schuldig let him.
"Then again," the telepath said, sounding amused, "I could be wrong."
Mikae hesitated. "Yohji--"
"Another one," he groaned, turning around finally, sitting down, and dropping his head down on his crossed forearms. "For the love of God, give me another drink."
"Hell no. Not if you’re driving home tonight."
"I’ll see him home," Schuldig cut in smoothly, resting a proprietary hand on Yohji’s back. Yohji shuddered. "Don’t worry."
She sounded reluctant. "Whatever. Don’t fucking sue."
"Promise," Schuldig said.
Another shot glass bumped against Yohji’s forearm. He raised his head, tossed it back, and collapsed on the bar again.
"We’re closing soon anyway," Mikae said. "Time to settle."
Yohji made feeble motions toward his wallet. Schuldig sighed loudly, and Yohji heard a faint rustling. "There. For both of us."
A pause. "This is too much. It’s only--"
Yohji raised his head blearily, just in time to see Schuldig smile graciously-- Schuldig? he thought, gracious?-- at Mikae. "Keep it. For your trouble."
"Not my trouble," she muttered, but she pocketed the bills nevertheless. Schuldig was buying Yohji’s bartender.
Yohji suddenly felt ill. He pushed himself away from the bar and nearly collapsed. Schuldig caught him. "Steady, Kudou. No puking on the outfit."
"Could only... improve it," he muttered through the sour taste in his mouth.
"And people wonder why I’m a misanthrope," Schuldig said. "Here."
Yohji clung to the proffered arm as Schuldig helped him out the door. Some cold, sober part of his mind was screaming that this was Schuldig for God’s sake-- psychopath, mortal enemy, Aya’s demented stalker. The rest of his mind was too alcohol-soaked to care.
As Schuldig deposited him into a waiting cab, however, he had enough presence of mind to ask, "Why aren’t you killing me?"
Schuldig’s eyes widened. "Scheiße. I knew I forgot something."
Yohji rolled his eyes, and Schuldig grinned. "You Weiß boys are always so eager to go out in a blaze of glory. I don’t want you dead, Yohji." He leaned in close, once again invading Yohji’s personal space. "You torture yourself so beautifully. I wouldn’t destroy such a work of art."
He kissed Yohji again, just as hard and demanding as the first time. Yohji closed his eyes and considered vomiting, then rejected the idea. He wasn’t exactly defenseless at the moment, but he was pretty darn close.
In his head, Schuldig’s wry voice said, Good choice.
Then the taxi door slammed shut and they were speeding through the Tokyo streets, back to the trailer, and only then did Yohji think to worry that Schuldig knew where Weiß was holed up. He sighed and closed his eyes again, ignoring the contemptuous glances the cab driver shot him.
So that was why.
His lips still burned.
Aya’s eyes flew open. Something. Something had brought him awake... in an unfamiliar room, with someone in bed with him. That someone had an arm comfortably draped over his waist. He remembered Yukio and smiled. Then he looked at the clock. Shit. Shit!
Yukio’s grip on his arm tightened as he started to move. "What are you doing? You only slept for... an hour. Have mercy."
Guilt stung him. "I have to go. I have a job to wake up for and roommates I should have called hours ago to tell them I was still alive." He really didn’t want them to think he was Schuldig’s helpless sex slave and needed a rescue. They might be worried. But he didn’t want to go. But he should. "Yukio--"
"I’m glad you let somebody worry about you." She turned on the light and blinked sleepily. "If you have to go, you have to go. Oh, wait." She rummaged across the top of the night table until she found a pen. "C’mere." Yukio wrote a phone number along the inside of his wrist in blue ink. It scratched and tickled at the same time. "My cell phone. You’re a friend and lover now, Aya. Remember that."
He couldn’t help smiling. Couldn’t help melting as she kissed him either. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.... No.
"Almost had you," Yukio said with a laugh.
"Yukio, if I didn’t have prior responsibilities, I would stay."
"Get going before you make me blush. That way I won’t have to kill you."
He almost didn’t flinch at that.
"Will you calm down, Omi?" Ken asked, yawning.
"It’s been hours," Omi said. If he kept on this way, Ken might witness a case of spontaneous combustion. Omi paced. He tried to work on the computer but couldn’t summon the concentration necessary. He tried to read. He paced....
He kept Ken awake.
Ken really couldn’t think of anything to say that might help him. Yohji and Aya had either run into trouble in some unknown part of the city or Yohji had holed them up in a hotel room to make Aya his transgendered love slave... and fuck you very much, Yohji, for putting that thought in his head. Neither prospect would cheer Omi. Ken wished he could erase the last one himself.
Omi jumped as the door started to open. A very unsteady Yohji stumbled in, very drunk and very much alone. No Aya. This would be bad.
Sure enough, Omi was all over Yohji. "Yohji! What happened? Where’s Aya?"
Yohji’s eyes were unnaturally bright. He dismissed the subject of Aya’s well-being with an airy wave of his hand. "She can take care of herself."
"He," Omi said firmly.
Yohji leered. "Oh, no, trust me. She’s a she."
Ken’s eyes widened as that damned image flitted through his head again. He heard Omi breathe, "What did you do?"
"What she wanted me to do," Yohji pronounced, looking insufferably smug. "What she begged me to do."
Ken covered his face with his hands.
"You-- you--" Omi sounded outraged.
Ken peeked nervously between his fingers, wary of the tension in the air. Shit, Yohji was going to do what Yohji did whenever he didn’t feel steady: shoot his mouth off. "Yeah, Dad, I did. Got a problem with it?"
Omi stared and said nothing. All of the energy and motion he’d showed minutes earlier seemed to compress in his small body. His face twisted, and then he punched Yohji hard in the stomach, crumpling him to the floor.
"Omi!" Ken yelped, leaping forward. "Shit!"
Omi hauled Yohji up by his collar and shouted, "How could you? How could you just-- you don’t even like him!"
Yohji was too drunk to fight back. In fact, he was so drunk that it looked like blinking stupidly at Omi in shock was about all he could manage.
As Omi kept yelling and Yohji kept looking bemused, Ken circled the two at a safe distance, trying to figure out the best direction to intervene in to break this up. Omi usually looked cute, but he could be deadly. "Damn it," he began.
"What the fuck is going on?" Aya asked from the doorway.
Omi and Yohji stared at him, and Ken took advantage of their distraction to pull Omi’s hands off of Yohji. Yohji was also almost too drunk to kneel on his own; he sagged before he saved himself from hitting the floor face-first. In contrast to the rest of Weiß, Aya looked cool and controlled, if a bit disheveled.
Aya, who’d been fucked by Yohji, if you could believe Yohji. Ken didn’t know if he did, but he didn’t know if he didn’t either. He felt shocked that he didn’t feel totally shocked, but after seeing Aya with breasts that first time, he’d lost some of his ability to be shocked by anything Aya could do. Besides, Yohji had all but declared his intentions more than once.
Still, after their conversation earlier, he felt more disappointed in Yohji than he had a right to be.
"Um," Ken said. "They’re fighting over your virtue. Again."
Aya opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Sounding annoyed and sad, he said, "This is not my life."
"Aya--" Omi started.
"Shut up." He knelt beside the half-conscious Yohji and tipped his head back, sniffing his breath. "He’s drunk."
Ken sighed. "That’s the general consensus, yes."
Aya stood, pulling Yohji up with him. "I’m putting him to bed. You two stay out here."
"Where the hell were you?" Omi asked.
Aya looked taken aback by Omi’s tone. "I needed to clear my head."
Omi calmed a little, but still sounded hard when he said, "Please call next time."
Aya nodded, then helped Yohji stumble away. His expression twisting, Omi watched them go.
Ken asked, "Omi, what the hell got into you?"
Omi sniffed. He looked pink-faced and miserable, and Ken realized with a slight shock that despite what he did for a living, in every way that mattered he was still just a kid.
"He was supposed to protect Aya," Omi whispered. "He took advantage of him."
Ken smiled wryly. "This is Aya we’re talking about, right? You think Yohji could do anything Aya didn’t want him to?" He ruffled Omi’s hair. "Here, sit down," he said, guiding his young teammate to the kitchen table. "I’ll make you some tea."
Omi stared blankly into space as Ken bustled around the small kitchen area, pulling out the teakettle and two clean mugs, setting the water to boil. After a while he said, almost too low for Ken to hear, "He’s never going to want me, is he?"
Ken hesitated. He really didn’t want to get involved in whatever bizarre triangle his teammates seemed to have formed. But Omi looked so miserable.
"I don’t know," he said finally. "I honestly can’t speak for Aya. I don’t think anyone can. No one knows him well enough. Hell, I’m not sure if Aya knows himself."
"Yohji does," Omi muttered.
"Yeah?" Ken found himself glancing towards the sleeping area in the back of the trailer, wondering just what they were doing back there-- he pushed the thought away, shaking his head. "I wouldn’t be too sure. Look, Omi, I can’t be sure, but I think Aya loves you as much as he can love anyone."
"Maybe that’s not enough anymore," Omi said softly.
They all knew how badly life could suck and how helpless they could be in the face of that, so Ken didn’t tell Omi that. "Once the terrible twosome settles down back there, let’s get some sleep, huh? Life usually seems better after some good sleep."
"I’m the one who needs a chaperone? I can’t even leave you alone for a few hours without you getting yourself in trouble," Aya said, grimacing under Yohji’s leaning weight across his shoulders and against his side as he dragged Yohji forward more than helped him walk. "Nothing to say? That’s rare." Aya tossed Yohji none too gently into his bunk, then took his sunglasses and boots off for him. He refused to wrestle the coat off.
At least Aya didn’t feel any lust at the moment. Perhaps having sex twice and Yohji currently being a disgusting drunk helped.
Aya remembered Yukio’s words about not letting a situation fester, so he said, "I’m still upset, but I understand what happened tonight. I don’t hold it against you." Yohji had been honest about the source of his interest, and Aya had been the one to make it something it hadn’t been.
Yohji looked miserable, but that could be the drunkenness. "I didn’t mean to upset you like that. It was just a... shock, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. But could you try not to bait Omi?" The look on Omi’s face and ugly edge in his voice had been worrying.
Yohji had passed out. Wonderful. Aya would have to wait until tomorrow to see how things would be between them now. It might have been better to get it out of the way tonight, when Aya still felt so good-natured, but nothing could be done.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten
E-mail the authors:
Maya Tawi - firstname.lastname@example.org
Viridian5 - Viridian5@aol.com
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The Green Room version 3.0 (Viridian5's fanfiction)