Moment

from the Sniper Slut in Tokyo Series
by scribblemoose

Somehow, Squall wasn't surprised to find himself at the Koneko.

It was 3am and the rain had been falling steadily since midnight. He'd been walking for hours. Sleep had abandoned him the past few days, and tonight he'd found it impossible to lie next to the snoring Irvine, the urge to wake him up far too strong. It would be unfair and pointless: it's not as if this was something Squall could talk about. Nothing Irvine didn't know already, didn't feel himself. So Squall had slipped quietly from the bed, pulled on his clothes and walked the streets of Tokyo in the rain.

Until, inevitably, he wound up at the Koneko.

The shop looked bleak in the rain: smooth grey shutters reflected the gaudy neon reds and greens of the City. Nothing like its daytime show of flowers, when the glass windows gleamed with light and the chatter of girls fluttered around. This was far more cold and sinister. And to Squall it felt disturbingly familiar.

He'd been there only a moment when he heard footsteps advancing towards him across the wet pavement. Aya. He knew without looking: it was no surprise to see the solid black boots, the long coat flapping around long, black-clad legs.

But it thrilled him, just the same.

Aya said nothing, just stopped at Squall's side and glowered. He was breathing hard and his eyes flashed emotion, no matter how perfectly still he stood.

"Walking?" said Aya.

"Mission?" said Squall.

They answered each other with curt nods.

"Yohji?" said Squall.

"Took off. Being a moron as usual. Irvine?"

"Asleep."

"Kudoh'll be back tomorrow." Aya flicked rain from his hair. "Always is."

"The mission?"

"Over." Aya took a step forwards. His gloved hand lifted, the slightest of gestures, and hesitated.

Rain fell in Squall's eyes, plastered his hair to his head and ran down the back of his neck. His skin smarted.

This time Aya's fingers reached Squall's skin, slid along his jaw, tilted his head just slightly, and then stepped up close and kissed him. His mouth was soft and warm; he smelt of leather and diesel-tinged rain. His body was tense, putting a quiver in his kiss, a passionate shudder.

Squall moaned softly, and leaned into Aya's body, slipped his tongue into Aya's mouth.

"Inside," Aya breathed. "We could be seen here."

He could be seen, that meant, doing something remarkable enough to fix in some passer-by's mind. He was still in uniform. Still Abyssinian.

Still dangerous.

A shiver ran down Squall's spine, and he kissed Aya a little harder. They stumbled their way to the shop doorway. Aya pulled out his key and unlocked the door. Everything inside was still and quiet.

They fell against the counter, Squall not caring as the edge dug meanly into his spine. Aya's fingers deftly opened Squall's jacket, hiked up his shirt and touched the soft, warm skin underneath, skating over sensitive, buzzy places. They kissed feverishly now, tongues tangling, and Squall's hands shook slightly even as he slid them around to cup Aya's ass. Funny how he could keep a gunblade steady under threat of death, but when it came to sex….

Aya moaned softly, an unexpectedly tender noise from someone so terribly angry. He was being gentle; impossibly gentle. Squall thought he had never met anyone wound so tightly, so immaculately controlled. Even himself. And Squall could guess all too well where that tension came from.

He grappled with Aya's belt, tugging it open in a jangle of buckles, and negotiated the zip of his trousers down. He slipped his hand inside, past soft cotton underwear to find Aya's cock. It was hard, incredibly hot and nudged its way eagerly into Squall's fist.

Squall squeezed his eyes tight shut, and breathed in the scent of sex, of leather and rain and Aya's hair. Flowers, earth and growing things. This place, this time, this world.

Aya gave him no reassurance, asked no questions. He simply reciprocated. He got Squall's clothing out of the way and tugged Squall's cock out into the open. His touch was firm and sure with the slightest hint of desperation that Squall only recognised because it mirrored his own. Squall set about getting Aya off as fast and efficiently as he could. This was a long way from the long, languid nights he and Irvine had shared with Aya and Yohji over the past few weeks. This was need and silent fury.

Aya grunted softly and leaned a little closer, making it easy for Squall to kiss him. Hard, grinding kisses, matching the rhythm of their hips and cocks and fists.

Aya came first, hissing as he spilled over Squall's hand. Squall waited, breathlessly kissing Aya's neck and hair while he came down. Then Aya scooped up his own come and used it to slick Squall's cock, making his strokes slippery and loose, just right, pure bliss. Aya held him while he came, both of them silent, heads close together. And then, when Squall's heartbeat had calmed enough for him to register the words, Aya whispered: "Thank you."

Squall nodded. He ran his tongue over his kiss-swollen lips. Aya stood back, somehow already zipped up and decent.

"You could stay," Aya said.

They looked at each other for a long moment, before Squall shook his head.

"Irvine," said Aya.

"Yes," said Squall. "He might do something stupid if I leave him alone too long."

They exchanged small, tight smiles.

"Come back tomorrow," said Aya, "after dark. You and Irvine. Yohji will have done sulking by then. We could do something. Eat, maybe."

Squall smiled again. Even he recognised that Aya had just asked them out on a date. That wasn't something that happened every day. "I'd like that. Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow."

Squall returned to the rain-splashed streets of Tokyo with a lighter heart. This city was still alien, still very, very far from home.

But at least, for now, they weren't so very much alone.

~owari~

Illustration by PL Nunn