18-June-2002
Breakdown: An Alternate Universe Weiss Kreutz Fanfic
by Nixerchan and bonnejeanne
Contact: nixerchan@aol.com and bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Category: AU
Pairings: Various, or to put it another way, most of them ^__^;;
Warnings: LEMON this section. Weird premise, weird psychic powers, probably confusing plot, um, possibly some OOC, some violence, probably gratuitous use of pointless Japanese, what else... oh yeah, LEMON from time to time... poor Nixers, I'm such a corrupting influence... ^__~
Rating: NC-17
SUMMARY/PREMISE: What if the Weiss boys actually possessed psychic powers similar to Schwartz, which had been suppressed or erased from their memories?
AU TIMELINE: Picks up *almost* at the end of the OAV, just after the death of Gen. Norman Powell.
/something/ - may indicate thoughts, telepathy or other psychic contact.
'something' - indicates just thoughts.
Chapter 3: Resetting the Board (continued)
Once inside the dressing room, Aya checked for a locking mechanism and finding none, grabbed a chair and propped the back under the knob. That done he unbelted the long coat, placed his katana on a dressing table and then pulled off his gloves. His hands were shaking slightly.
Ken kept Aya in the corner of his eye as he untied the sweater at his waist and bunched it up with his jacket, before tossing both over the top of a nearby stool. "Didn't go very well, huh?" Ken asked, sinking down to a cross-legged position on the hardwood floor. "Omi seems to still trust him anyway, if he didn't he would have just smiled and led me off in a different direction."
Aya stripped off the coat and dropped it to the floor, stepping back to lean against the wall. "Omi wants to trust him," he growled. 'So do I,' he thought and then tried to shed the idea quickly. His hands made fists at his side to cover the remaining faint tremor.
"I could make sure," he said in a low voice. "It's what... I had planned on." He swallowed and shook his head, wanting to blurt out the rest for the sheer relief of it but trapped by restraints too ingrained to give way easily.
"But you don't want to," the statement had just a little lift at the end of it. Ken glanced up at Aya through jagged bangs. He had a little too much latent energy left, everything of the past few days was converting into it. Days like these he'd go out and scour the shop from top to bottom or find a field and burn it off. For now he just curled his hand into his pant leg and watched the other.
"But I *do* want to," Aya whispered, his eyes haunted. "I want to make him talk about everything that ever happened. I want to make him admit... all the manipulations... I want to find Birman and see if I did damage her.. and if not, see if I can... I want to... to *use* it... I want to use it." He closed his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "But if I did, it wouldn't be long before... before I'd... 'check' Omi... just to make sure.... and maybe... even... you..."
The athlete listened with an uncharacteristic silence, sorting things out, and replaying the scenario that Aya described. 'Omi'd hate him after that,' he decided, 'And I... possibly, probably.' There was something fundamentally missing in the method. "And then you wouldn't be able to stop out of fear of retribution," Ken said, taking it a little further. There was a helplessness in trying to figure out something to suggest.
Aya simply looked back, the words covering thoughts that had already come to him and been carried even further. 'I could make you forget it happened, I think...' "I'll be like them..." he muttered, the image of Schwartz clear in his mind. He didn't expect Ken to have any answers, but of the several cracks, no, fissures that had been created in his soul in the last twenty four hours, he was clinging instinctively to the one that had allowed him to connect to Ken in some way, any way would do.
Ken pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He allowed a bit of frustration out with a sigh. A suspicion had slunk in and was making itself comfortable in the back of his mind. In some ways, it wasn't so much he didn't trust everyone else - well, not that much, he amended with a quick glance at the barricaded door - as he didn't trust himself with it. "How long did you practice kendo before you could stop a swing like you did yesterday?" Ken asked, working out a speculation.
A moment of silence and then Aya answered, "Two... years..." the calculation abstract in his voice. "That close, at least that."
That sort of precision, took refining, but... There was always the reflex to swing, but missing on purpose might not be as hard. Shadow boxing at full force. Looking now at the dresser, counting the seconds it would take, playing an angle out in his head. "But once you got it, you could probably put it to any sword right? After a little work with weight and length and that shit?"
"Hai," the redhead answered, his face still as he waited for where this was going with not even a good guess.
Ken grinned up at Aya suddenly, an impulsive idea taking root. Cut the claws, I'll use my fists, take the sword... "Fine, show me," before he'd even finished the first syllable, Ken had lashed out sweeping at the back of Aya's legs behind the knee. Counting on the fall, he used the impact for his own balance, turning it into enough inertia to snatch up the katana haphazardly and spin back to face the assassin.
Aya was down and then rolling back to his feet with unthinking reflex, his hand reaching for his side, then both arms spreading quickly in front of him in automatic defense. His eyes caught the flash of polished metal arcing in front of him, the angle wrong in Ken's hands but still to be reckoned with, the razor sharp edge impartial as to its mark.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, unable to stand up and put his hands down, the instinct when facing a weapon even in the hands of a friend ingrained to the bone.
"Not a clue," Ken replied easily, the sword ducked behind him, almost as a counterweight as he threw himself into a punch, feeling the feather touch of hair as the fist was just barely dodged. 'Keeping you off balance.' And then pulled the sword through on the turn, the weapon feeling awkward in his hand.
A guttural curse answered as Aya was forced to dodge the blade. He felt an odd sort of pressure starting to build up behind his temples but had no time for it as he attempted to lunge under the haphazard stroke and close enough to Ken to bring him to the floor.
Ken had just enough presence of mind tighten his grip and keep the blade far enough from the both of them before he went down. Bracing himself, he angled a knee up under Aya just before he hit the ground.
The knee hit solid, knocking the air from the redhead in an audible expellation. It spoiled the dive he was making for the weapon-wielding hand and left him sprawling on the other boy loosely for a moment. Stop it, he thought, scrambling for some kind of move. He didn't feel threatened or afraid, the eyes of his 'opponent' were too clear for that but he disliked the game and *was* afraid of accidents caused by two almost over-trained assassins misusing their skills casually. The pressure behind his temples cranked up a bit, actually causing a moment of distraction.
The distraction was taken immediately, another impact and the shorter man twisted out from under Aya, immediately at ready and sword back behind him. "Not that easy," he said, letting the edge of the blade tap the floor.
Aya got to his feet as quickly, shaking his head in a short jerk. "Ken..." he growled, the tone warning, even as he looked for another opening, knowing that the other boy was not going to give up whatever weird notion he'd seized onto easily at all. Making a grab for Ken's wrist above the hilt of the weapon he swerved to avoid the blade, trying to twist it out of Ken's grasp.
Ken went with the pull easily, letting the arm go as far as the joints would allow, and then let the blade clatter to the floor. Instead of dropping for it, he kicked it under the far bed, and twisted just enough at the elbow to try for a left handed jab.
The blow connected, knocking a grunt of pain from the redhead whose temper was finally beginning to flare. "You idiot..." He threw himself at Ken, grappling to pin his arms, losing a little focus on what this was about, which he'd not figured out to begin with. The pressure in his temples was now a major throb, causing the light in the room to seem to pulse in and out weirdly.
The boy only seemed to take some satisfaction in the growled insult. Ken threw himself fully back into it, trying to break the hold on his right wrist without causing any major damage. Nothing so far wasn't anything that could have been blocked or dodged and occasionally taken. It was more designed to annoy, infuriate. Which from how much he felt Aya really putting himself into things, was starting to work. Almost felt like those earlier days of working together.
He gave up on the iron grip and simply reversed it, wrapping the arm around Aya's neck as he ducked behind him. Grapping his own wrist above Aya's, the grip was tightened just a hairbreadth below actually being a threat.
A slight choke emerged, and an almost frantic struggle to break the hold. In point of fact, Aya was torn with an impulse to press a hand to his temples even as he tried to find leverage to escape. In hand to hand, Aya was good enough but not a match for the more compact strength of the former goalie.
Ken used the hold to get his breathing back under control and make a choice, whether open up just enough for Aya to make a hit and break or force the issue. There was not much time to decide, and more than enough faith that the other could pull off what he was expecting. At the same time, he tightened the hold and loosened his own grip on his arm.
The sensation of being choked was primal and the response not more than a step above, grabbing Ken's crooked arm with both hands to pull hard. The effort was enough the break them apart and was followed almost as instinctively by a counter attack, sweeping Ken's legs the same way he'd done Aya and sprawling him to the floor. One of Aya's hands flew up, at first to his neck and then to his head.
/STOP.../
Just as the though came crashing into Ken's mind to take hold, it was aborted in the next instant with a savage-feeling cut-off. Both Aya's hands made it to his head and he dropped to his knees, eyes closing tightly in a grimace of pain.
The other lay still on the floor, both getting back what wind had been knocked out of him and shaking off a faint and fading feeling of paralysis. His eyes flicked over to Aya, wincing, a bit of doubt taking the place. Gingerly he got to his knees. "Weren't supposed to try and stop it," Ken said, the space between words a little ragged. "You were supposed to miss. Should be easier."
A short bark of air that could have been a wordless curse or a pained laugh emerged from the redhead. Moving quicker than Ken might have expected, he crossed the short distance between them on his knees and pushed the other boy over, crawling across his body and pinning his down. "Idiot," he repeated, looking down, his eyes still dilated slightly with pain that was ebbing, if slowly. "How do you miss someone's... mind? You're *there*... how can I miss that?" Too freaked out to try and understand the concept Ken was talking about, Aya relieved his pent up tension, fear and anger by taking the boy below him in a savage and hungry kiss.
The other accepted then rose up to meet it, trading energy into a different kind of aggression. His hand gripped Aya's shoulders, finger's digging in. A slight turn to the side broke the kiss with a gasp, and both of his hand found the side of Aya's face, forcing enough room to make eye contact, "Didn't know," he confessed a simple trust in Jade eyes. "Knew you'd figure out something. You /did/ stop it."
Aya stared back, confusion and longing in his amethyst gaze that he'd have refused to show anyone else. "Baka," he repeated a third time, the word picking up the longing as well. Taking another kiss, this one almost tender though still intense, he lifted his mouth, his eyes roaming Ken's face. "You're such a... mess..."
This got a short laugh. "You're no one to talk," he replied. The fire and adrenaline that had built up in the course of the fight hadn't seemed to be affected at all by the close brush, and wasn't intending on letting it go yet. He quirked a bit more of a grin up at Aya, a typical blunt honesty in it, "S'okay though, I've always liked that."
He got a growl for an answer and then Aya slid both arms around him and rolled onto his back, pulling Ken on top. "Always, hm?" he muttered skeptically, his hands settling firmly around Ken's waist.
"Okay, from day two," Ken conceded, straddling the redhead. "The first time I saw you I didn't know what the hell to think... besides duck, or get out of the way of the damned sword." At that he slid down, forgoing the mouth for an exploration of the hallows of Aya's neck, a gentler touch in atonement for the fight, and an occasional faint nip of teeth in contrast.
Aya's neck arched back a little under the touches. His hands slid slowly down from Ken's waist to settle on the curves of his hips. "And I thought, too bad I'd have to kill something this sweet." His deep voice was stripped bare of any habitual restraint, its expression giving a glimpse into an unknown corner of the young man's mind.
'There was a nice lie,' Ken mused, eye's lidding more from the feel of Aya's hands. He leaned back into it a bit, his own hand's running down Aya's flank dipping above to skim the surface but not really lingering anywhere yet. "It was a very good try," he offered.
Watching his face, Aya said, "Don't believe me, do you?"
"Not much," Ken admitted. "No one's that separate."
The redhead simply looked at him. His fingers kneaded the firm curves under his hands. "Kaze was brain dead."
Green eyes darkened at the words with an almost imperceptible drop in temperature. Ken didn't refute or confirm it, simply taking Aya's mouth in a kiss to match the earlier ferocity.
Aya accepted the ferocity as well as the silent rebuff. He had things he had to tell the other boy. Ken wasn't going to break apart hearing them. If he squalled, that was fine.
Gazing up, his breath coming deeper with the elevated body temperature, once the kiss was ended, he added, "Ditto for that girl who left for Australia."
"No, that was pretty smart of her," Ken said, the look not clearing up at all. "If this is in retaliation, I'd much rather prefer a rematch, ne?"
Aya gazed up, staying in the bottom position deliberately to give the other boy the freedom to react as he would. "No, it was stupid. If this was retaliation I'd be nailing you to the floor with my... other sword. I'm just telling you how I feel. Do you know how often I've done that in the last... since.... Zero times. None. I don't expect you to agree, or like it. I'm not telling you what to feel. I'm telling you what I feel. Have felt. Because I never could. Retaliation.... is going to take a lot longer than you think," he said, the passion in his eyes flaring and contaminating his voice as his hands tightened almost painfully.
"Then if not smart, better," Ken replied, intending to leave it there. There wasn't much he could argue with in the face of that, and the new rush of pain/pleasure confusing things. He set himself fully on top of Aya, hip to hip. Rolling a bit of pressure there, he followed Aya's jawline, and worried at his earlobe. He broke off to speak directly into it quietly, "Retaliation won't be as easy as you think."
A shiver answered the soft threat. A groan answered the shifting pressure. Aya pushed upwards with his own hips. "I guess easy's not my style anyway," he muttered, turning his head to nuzzle into Ken's hair and teethe a bit of skin on the back of his neck. "I'm keeping you," he warned in the same low tone.
"I'm hard to get rid of," Ken agreed. "You'll be out of luck if you change your mind. An ocean won't work this time," he said, fingers digging a little with the words. They relaxed just a moment to slide down Aya's arms and pin them at the elbows.
A last nip to the back of Ken's neck answered before the redhead growled. "Dreaming. I don't. Change. My. Mind."
"Only once anyway," the dark haired assassin pulled a little up and out of range. Ken gave Aya a contented look, "I can't say I objected to you coming back to Weiss though."
Aya's hands roamed restlessly around what parts of Ken he could reach. His eyes flickered away, then back. He didn't like being caught out that way and didn't know how to explain that there was a difference between the two things. Even when he'd left, his stringently concealed feeling about the dark haired assassin hadn't changed. But there hadn't been any point since he never allowed himself to consider doing anything about it.
"I suppose I knew better," he muttered without explaining.
The hand on Aya's arms relaxed a little, allowing Aya more of a range. Green eyes falling closed, he knew he was sliding into his own distraction, but didn't feel like changing the course now. "Than what?" was almost an automatic response.
"To think any of us would ever get out of this," Aya answered, his hands starting to work on the fastening of Ken's jeans.
Ken sat up a bit, obligingly giving the swordsman space to work. "We all knew that," he agreed. 'And tried anyway... are trying.' His voice took a hoarser tone as fingers brushed skin. "Won't be a bad way to go." 'Now.'
Aya left the open waist of Ken's jeans to pull the other boy down, rolling on top of him. His eyes focused on Ken's like two amethyst lasers. "Don't... think of it," he growled, the tone more than mildly threatening. "Don't you fucking dare."
"Or what? How many times have *you* told me to be realistic?" Ken didn't let Aya answer immediately, another flare of temper hardening the edges of the kiss the other found himself pulled into.
The kiss became abruptly savage, and somehow needful at the same time. Ken could feel Aya's body vibrating against his as he delved into the green-eyed boy's throat. The clinch caused their bodies to rub together, and with the open jeans Ken had less protection from the sensation that before. Ken's quip had struck home but Aya did not want to think about it. His logic was failing him and leaving him with very little to rein in emotions and needs too long repressed as pointless.
Ken groaned, the noise half swallowed by the kiss. He added a fever and desperation into the mix as the spike of heat mixed with morbid sentiment. Right then it was okay. Like this he didn't have to think about it. Determined and wayward hands sought to share the respite with the man on top of him.
Taking a full measure and a bit more from the boy beneath him, Aya finally leaned back, taking in needed oxygen in deep gulps. Shifting off Ken and to the side, he began pulling his shirt off, dropping it wherever it landed. Eyes never leaving Ken's face, he pulled at the rest of his clothes with near-angry impatience.
Ken sat up, drawing a single knee up against him and putting his back to the cot. His own hands neither moved to fasten his own jeans or push them the rest of the way off. He watched Aya with a hungry sort of attention, taking in what the darkness had robbed him last night. 'Besides,' he thought with a twitch of a smile, 'I promised I wouldn't make this easy.'
The disrobing didn't stop until there was nothing else to remove. Seeming surprisingly comfortable in his skin, Aya moved to the balls of his feet, at first crouching, then standing but not before getting a good double handhold on Ken and pulling the other boy up as well. It was a convenience to make his next action easier - his hands skimmed down Ken's body and fastened on the jeans, tugging them down impatiently. Leaving them bunched at his ankles, Aya slipped back to one knee, capturing Ken's manhood in a firm grip, no longer looking at the other boy's face but focusing on what was closer to eye level now. Licking his lips in preparation, he leaned closer, warm breath against heated skin.
An involuntary step back was cut just as short by the hand as by the jeans. Ken forced himself to look up and away, just the sight alone pushing the edges of control, only to discover almost immediately that not knowing was worse.
He didn't have long to anticipate. The warm breath against his skin was followed by a slow, deliberate flick of tongue across the head of Ken's erection, the hand at its base holding firmly. Aya's other hand settled almost lightly on the side of Ken's hip and he leaned even closer, lashing his tongue across the swollen flesh, flicking out again and again, each swipe sliding along a different area, leaving moisture to cool in the air behind it. After many such teasing, yet oddly hungry touches, the redhead pressed his lips against the tip, a lingering kiss, before leaning in to let it slide between his lips and into the hot moist interior of his mouth.
Hands on Aya's shoulders and locked elbows seemed to be the only thing holding up Ken at that point. Well trained muscles stood at the point of rebellion as every inch of the former athlete wanted to melt into one hot point. "Aya," he warned/pleaded, between ragged breaths. Some part of him remembered last night, knowing exactly how well demands went over, but the rest of him willfully held out.
Pulling back slowly, too slowly for sanity, with suction and a swirling tongue along every centimeter, the redhead finally released his captured prize and flickered a look up, neither triumphant nor teasing, just intent. "Ran," he murmured. It wasn't an order or a request, perhaps just a reminder, with a hint of struggle behind it. His left hand stroked Ken's flank as he waited for the answer.
Green eyes struggled and cleared. The name of the flower, almost a trained response, coming to mind first before begin dismissed, or rather pushed aside in the face of the second association. The same eyes widened fractionally, then closed. Ken nodded, repeating the name and finding an association with it. "Works better now," he said when he could manage it.
There was a flicker of odd relief in the amethyst eyes turned up to him. Quickly shuttered but there. He couldn't say the words yet. Couldn't explain that he wanted to hear his own name from Ken's lips, and perhaps from no other. Ken and Aya. To his sister he would always be Ran, had never been anything else, but he wanted to hear Ken's voice say it and make it real. Because he had a sneaking feeling lately that Ran had faded from existence except in his sister's eyes. He sometimes wondered if Ran had ever been real to anyone else.
Turning his head slightly, he rubbed his cheek against the soft yet firm flesh still in his grip. Licked along its length once, then again, and began to take it inside once more.
A distinct choked sound was the answer to Aya's actions. The hands on his shoulders convulsed, then when given no leeway pushed without much strength. Ken's hips flexed, seeking more than what was granted without direction.
The redhead slid both hands around Ken's body, cupping his rear, as he began working his lap in earnest. He didn't try to hold the boy still, letting him rock, but all his attention was focused on what he was doing, refusing to relent until he pushed Ken over the edge completely.
Denial allowed the tension to wind into a thin line, caught between will and every instinct, before it snapped. A white heat overtook Ken's vision pulsing hard as it all poured out. Not even taken with the instinct to breath, it took more than a moment to regain any sense of self, much less get his feet under him again - Aya's hold being the only reason he didn't crash to the floor.
The redhead held him securely, feeling the tremor in his legs, until he could feel Ken's muscles bearing his weight again, if shakily. Rising gracefully, he held Ken against him, flicking an absent finger to wipe something from the corner of his mouth. Nudging the other a little towards the cot, he murmured, "Lay down before you fall down."
It was natural to follow for Ken, especially before it had cleared, but the boy made no move at all to let go of the swordsman either. "Not my fault," Ken said, neither a complaint nor accusation.
Aya... Ran, nuzzled Ken's neck for a moment. Then he moved around the other boy to sit on the cot in question. Looking up, he said quietly, "Do as you wish."
Ken stepped out of his jeans, but for a moment, made no step forward. It was an abstract realization, a hunch that a lot more than the physical was offered in the simple statement. Ken crouched in front of where Aya sat, a hand at the side of the swordsman's face guiding it into a calm and deepening kiss from above, even as the other hand slid up a pale thigh, stopping just before the neglected arousal there.
Ken could feel the tension in the other boy, and also feel him ceding to the effect of the kiss. When they parted, he watched Ken intently, the touch on his skin adding to the tension, but in a way he wanted very badly.
Ken pushed at Ran's shoulder, coaxing him flat against the surface of the bare cot, the same hand then ghosted across and up, covering the red-head's eyes. "Don't move, Ran," Ken said, audibly enjoying the feel of the name. Leaning over him, but touching nowhere else, he continued. "Don't look."
Even that touch withdrew, followed closely by the sound of fabric as Ken got rid of his shirt, then seemed to wait for some sign of consent.
There was a slight catch in the redhead's breathing as Ken spoke. He went with the guidance, body still vibrating but clearly choosing compliance. His eyes stayed closed, listening to the faint sounds, tongue moving briefly to moisten his lips. His fingers played along the edge of the cot restlessly. "Aa.." he breathed, the faintest of questions only implied.
Whatever answer he was to receive, it wasn't audible. Without the telltale whisper of fabric, the only sounds left in the room were those of the ancient building itself and with some strain, the faintest sound of conversation a room away. Ken's concentration went into complete silence.
It was only a fraction of a second later before Aya felt something however. Unhesitant and possessive, fingers stroking up the length of his erection, taking their time to map the veins and contours... before disappearing entirely all together. An unrelated trace down the neck or a flick of wet heat against hardened nipple, never in any particular pattern as the other assassin seemed to take his time, sampling almost randomly.
Aya's hand gripped the edge of the cot, his back arching involuntarily. His eyelids flickered but did not open, as he tried to use a little of the so-fragmented discipline to remain obedient, at least for as long as he could manage. But the touches were driving him rapidly into a state of near-writhing arousal. A moan escaped his lips before he could silence it.
Lips covered his, the tongue not delving in but crossing the surface of his lips, as if to catch the aftertaste of the sound. As they left him, a hand pushed down on his hips. "Be still," Ken's voice warned now somewhere down the length of the bed. The pressure turned into another caress, sliding up and around Aya's erection before dipping between his legs. "I'll keep you down if I have to." The threat was followed by a wet heat along the recently abandoned length.
A gasp, bitten back quickly, answered the succession of erotic assaults. The hand gripping the cot frame was white-knuckled, but the redhead's body quieted, the muscles hard with the tension of the effort to stay so. Moisture formed along his skin answering the rise of inner heat. He'd no preparation for the game, but it answered a need that the green eyed boy had fired to an ever increasing pitch.
All sensation of touch disappeared again after hands had nudged apart his legs a little further. The sound of breathing was now faintly audible as the other's control unwound. When fingers returned there, they lingered, following along the inside of the thigh long enough for Aya to register moisture, and then destination.
A slight shiver moved through the redhead's body, recognizing the meaning of the touch. Opening his legs wider, one long limb rose and bent at the knee, offering access, even as his head moved to one side restlessly.
There was a moment's pause as Ken considered, the possibility of using the violation in terms that he'd ask for occurring then dismissed - or rather put aside. Beyond that he wasted no further time in teasing, a finger pushed inside slowly. Even then he only allowed a moment before seeking out a reaction from the swordsman.
The reaction was immediate. A low moan and a tilt of those slender hips, flexing, pressing into the touch. "Ken..." his tone was pleading.
Again, there was no answer. The response given was a second finger added and the return of lips and fingers on his erection, no longer teasing, but giving and taking in equal measure now. He only saw a partial withdrawal and breath along his skin. "Which do you want?"
A low strangled sound answered the question. Ran groped for a way to make the answer that was throbbing along his nerves. Licking his lips, he forced words to come. "Want you... inside..."
Ran could feel a weight settle on the cot and the intent of the fingers inside change minutely. They, then, carefully left him to slide completely beneath Aya, lifting his hips. Another set curled around his ankle, lifting the bent knee over Ken's shoulder, putting Ken at his entrance. He could hear a sharp intake of breath, the same hand sliding down his leg in an almost worshipful fashion, then the other pushed in, slow but fully.
The sound from Ran's lips wasn't strangled or stifled this time, a low liquid moan that thanked and pleaded without a word. Relaxing to accept the intrusion more deeply, one hand moved, seeking more contact. The strong, lithe body pressing into him answered hungers and needs both physical and otherwise.
The other started slow, forsaking speed for depth. The hand on Aya's hip shifted, finding a better purchase as his own hand encountered slicked skin. "Ran," his name was said with the force of a curse and the tone of a prayer. A hand caught his and put it back to the side of the cot, and held there. The body against, within his seemed to lose some further control, adding a quickening pace to match the other's breathing. "Open... your eyes."
Ran's eyes flew open instantly, fastening on the boy above him, as his mouth opened, groaning Ken's name in a plea and a desperate command. His hips moved up, bracing against the force, rising to the friction that sent electric sparks of pleasure through his body, building into an inescapable wave.
The hand covering his left it to come in between them, insistently driving Ran along. Green eyes kept their focus on violet with more than a little effort. It had amazed him how soon, how quickly he was going to again... and just from watching. Now was fueled by a determination to bring the other there first, to see what he couldn't last night.
At the touch between them, Ran's eyes closed, then snapped open quickly, mouth open and gasping, nothing of restraint left. Gripping the frame of the cot where Ken had placed his hand, another moan left his throat as the boy driving against him pushed his senses into overload. Focusing on those jade eyes looking down into his, vision blurred as the wave crested and broke, his back arching impossibly further as his body surrendered its essence, muscles spasming in ecstasy.
Ken drank it in for as long as he could hold out, sensations of heat, pressure and sight warring against him, until he let it go again.
In the half dazed moments afterwards, the dark haired assassin pulled himself up and over Aya, sinking down into the contact that had been missing.
Arms twined around Ken's body, holding him tightly. Tucking his face into the curve between Ken's shoulder and neck, Ran settled, aftershocks of fading pleasure still moving through him randomly. It didn't matter what happened at this point - he wasn't letting go for anyone, even Ken himself.
Ken made no move to break the embrace, only seemed to settle deeper, as if he could find a deeper proximity than skin to skin. "S' a good thing you blocked that door," Ken said, exhaustion coloring his voice, "I'd've had to kill anyone who'd walk in. Keeps the other two safe."
A tongue swiped at Ken's neck. After another moment of quiet, a low voice murmured, "How did you know...?"
Already off on some other phantom thought, Ken glance up at Aya, trying to pick the meaning of the question. "Mmm?"
Red hair brushed across Ken's skin as Ran shook his head. "Nothing...nothing." A deep breath and a little bit more settling. "You weren't kidding about not making it easy..."
"You said you didn't like easy," Ken reminded him. "Besides, you don't exactly go light either."
A nuzzle, a couple of idle fingertips stroking Ken's back. "You've got a point." The expression Ken couldn't see, but could almost feel, was momentarily almost smug. Quiet breathing. A silence that was almost close to peace.
It was probably the warmth and contact, the feeling of arms still loosely around his back as he felt and heard the other's breathing calm and deepen. Taking it for sleep, he said it half because it was bothering him, and half because he wanted to hear it out loud, "Dumb or not she doesn't matter. S' just him and you. The rest were crushes."
The quiet remained unbroken but he felt something in the body relaxed around him. After a moment a hand reached up and threaded through his hair. Ran's eyes were open and watching him.
Something both tightened and relaxed at the knowledge that he'd been heard. In some way, he'd half hoped for it anyway. The inescapability of it let him close his own eyes to look for sleep. He'd deal with what it meant later.
Those fingers combed through his hair soothingly. The silence remained unbroken and sleep came without much of a search.
TBC