Tease

from the Bonding Series
scribblemoose

Yohji wearily climbed the stairs, shrugging his coat off his shoulders as he reached the top. He heard the bathroom door open and close ahead of him, the hiss of the shower as Ken set about cleaning up.

That'll take him a while, Yohji thought, grimly.

He shoved open the door to the room he shared with Aya, wincing as his shoulder reminded him of that awkward fall from the wall around the target's house.

Aya was sitting on the bed, socked feet crossed at the ankles. He observed Yohji over the reading glasses that were perched somewhat adorably on his nose.

"Don't ask," said Yohji.

"Oh," said Aya. "That bad?"

"Yeah." Yohji tossed his coat over the back of a chair, and crossed to the bed. Flung himself down gratefully at Aya's feet, the patchwork quilt soft under his cheek.

"You eliminated the target?"

"Ken did, in his usual inimitable style. At least I manged to stay out of the way of the carnage this time."

"Good." Aya frowned. Yohji watched his toes wiggling in thick woollen socks. Remembered what it felt like to run his tongue up the arch of Aya's foot and make him giggle. The only place the man was ticklish.

"Yeah. Well, it's done. Everything okay here?"

Aya shrugged. "Aya-chan was stuck on her English homework again. I said you'd help her with it at the weekend."

"Sure. Anything for my favourite girl."

Yohji flopped onto his back, stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Tired but not sleepy. Too soon to sleep. To late to do anything much to distract himself.

Except.

He turned onto his side, propped his head on one elbow and gave Aya his sexiest look. "Good book?"

"It's okay." Aya carefully slotted his bookmark in place and closed it. A little smile crept onto his face. "Not exactly riveting."

Yohji's grin got a bit bigger; he toyed with the buttons of his shirt and waggled his eyebrows. "You want something a bit more captivating to play with?"

"Play?"

"You know," said Yohji, an idea forming in his mind. "I think maybe I was a bit selfish, letting Ken do all the work tonight."

Aya's frown reappeared.

"I might need to be taught a lesson," Yohji continued. He imagined the smack of Aya's hand on his ass, the slap of the rough rubber of the paddle. Just enough pain to take his mind off the mission. To obliterate the image of Ken standing in that kitchen, claws dripping blood. Punishment. Atonement.

"No," said Aya.

"What?" Yohji knelt up, startled, as Aya swung his legs off the bed and got up.

"I said no."

"But..."

"Not when you're like this. It's supposed to be for fun. This is different."

Yohji hung his head. Found out. Damn. Why did Aya have to be so fucking smart? Never mind that that was what had made him fall for the man in the first place.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I know it's not easy, especially with Ken..."

It hung there, unsaid but understood, and for a moment Yohji thought he could still hear the target screaming as Ken ripped into her chest.

He couldn't bear the sympathy in Aya's eyes. Didn't deserve it. Didn't want it. He dug into his pocket for cigarettes and lighter, shuffled up the bed to grab the ashtray, not looking at Aya at all. He heard him lock the door and get something out of a cupboard; he returned to the bed with a bottle of scotch and two glasses, and sat cross-legged next to Yohji.

Yohji watched as Aya poured a generous shot; accepted it gratefully and downed it in one go. He didn't have to hold his glass out for more: Aya was already waiting to refill it.

"He's out of control," said Aya.

Yohji just shuddered. Sipped his second drink as the first one flowed through him, warming his gullet and stomach and limbs.

"It makes me a hypocrite," he said. "It's all killing. It doesn't matter how we do it. What gives me the right to disapprove, just because the way he does it is... bloodier than mine?"

"It's not the blood," said Aya, quietly. "It's the smiling."

Yohji took a long drag on his cigarette, let the smoke curl out of his mouth in blue-grey wisps, floating towards the ceiling. Blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "I watched him do it, watched him enjoy butchering that woman, and if the order came now I'd be right out there and doing it all again. What does that make me?"

"You don't have a choice. You go out there with a mission. That's all. You're not responsible for Ken, at least... not that way."

"It feels like I am." Yohji took a slug of scotch; again Aya was there to refill his glass straight away.

Things must be bad, if Aya was actually encouraging him to get drunk.

"He's in trouble," said Aya. "But it's not your fault. Not our fault," said Aya, in that firm, commanding tone that Yohji knew there was no arguing with. Yohji stubbed out the last fraction of his cigarette, and drained his glass. He realised that Aya was watching him, full of concern that Yohji felt he had no right to inspire. None at all.

He felt dirty, all of a sudden. Wondered if Ken was likely to be finished in the shower yet.

Probably not, considering.

Aya moved behind him; his face buried in Yohji's neck, strong fingers working the locked muscles of his sore shoulder. Warm breath and damp lips on his skin. It felt so good.

"Fuck me?" It came out as a pathetic sort of whine; Aya's hands froze on his shoulders.

"Why?"

"What?" Yohji twisted his head around to see Aya's face; he looked cross for a moment, but when Yohji looked at him his expression softened, and he slid his fingers tenderly into Yohji's hair.

"Nothing. It's okay."

Yohji kissed his palm, his wrist, folded his own hand over Aya's and held it as he rubbed his cheek against it like a cat. He sighed. "It's been a long day, Aya."

"I know. Let me..."

He reached around Yohji, clasped the hem of his top and tugged it up his body. Yohji obediently raised his arms to help; blinked as Aya took off his sunglasses, folding them carefully and putting them on the bedside table with his own reading glasses, draped Yohji's top over the wooden rail at the end of the bed.

He went to undo his belt, but Aya stopped him, firmly pushing his hands away so he could do it himself. Stripped the buckle, popped the button beneath and unzipped him. "Stand up a moment." Yohji did, watching with interest as Aya peeled his trousers open, pulling them smoothly over his butt and down his legs, then the same with his underwear, mindful not to snag the elastic waistband as he lowered it over Yohji's cock. Last of all Aya told Yohji to sit down again and stripped his socks. Left him there while he tidied his clothes away.

Yohji hugged his knees again, and shivered. It wasn't terribly warm in their room. Caught between seasons: too close to summer for heating, but close enough to winter that his skin crawled into goosebumps on contact with the air. He was about to help himself to another shot of whiskey to warm himself up when Aya finally came back to the bed and put his arms around him. Still dressed, wearing the jumper Yohji had given him a year or so ago: soft green cashmere, just a little bit too big, perfect for Aya's colouring. And jeans, and those thick, cosy socks, and probably sensible boxers underneath it all. It made him feel oddly vulnerable, cuddling up to Aya like that, naked when Aya was clothed. And somewhat indecent. And Aya didn't seem to be making any move to change things; when Yohji started to investigate the buttons of Aya's jeans, Aya shoved his hand away. Yohji opened his mouth to protest and Aya simply kissed him. Feeling less than sure of himself, he let Aya's tongue twist around his own, savouring the smoky taste of the whiskey and felt soft wool tickling his chest, exciting his nipples. Slid his arms around Aya's waist, his cock bullying a bony hip.

Aya tugged him close and kissed him again. Soft, gentle, tender. Not the hard, desperate kisses from their early days together; post-mission sex, bitter victory and surging masculinity. Aya was kissing him like a lover. Their tongues met tentatively, fluttering around each other before the plunge. A groan of longing escaped from Yohji's throat, and his fingers wound themselves in Aya's hair, clutched his skull to keep him there, to make that warm, tender kiss last as long as possible.

Bit by bit, the screaming faded from Yohji's ears. Aya's touch soothed and warmed him, and he let himself be pushed back on the bed. Slid his hand along the smooth skin of Aya's belly, under his sweater, seeking out the familiar ridges of ribs and the soft skin of his belly, tight over hard muscle. Quivering at his touch.

Aya kissed him again, rolling half on top of him, making his own explorations. Kissed down Yohji's jaw and throat, trailing fingertips over his shoulder, down his arm, leaving his skin tingling. Kisses followed fingers, pausing to lick the inside of his elbow and again to nibble at the bones of his wrists. Aya looked up at him and smiled, and something in Yohji broke. Aya's affection swamped the cold, bitter voice in his head that told him he didn't deserve to feel this way; his throat was tight with the awareness that he was, of all things, happy. At that moment, he honestly didn't care that Ken was bathing himself in blood every mission, or that he hadn't been able to stop him. Aya loved him, Aya loved him, and the reality of it made him glow inside. A mirroring smile crept slowly across Yohji's face.

Aya's hand spread across his hip, flexing against stretching muscles, stroked across his tummy to squeeze the other hip before he dropped his head and trailed his eartails over rapidly stiffening flesh. Just one teasing kiss to the head of Yohji's cock before his moved up his body to lick a nipple, twirling the pointy little tip of his toungue around the hardening nub, lapping at the thin, delicate skin around it, nipping and sucking, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Yohji's groin.

Yohji made a move to at least try to tug Aya's sweater off, but Aya neatly eluded him by shimmying down the bed, kneeling between Yohji's thighs. He seemed to have got the hint, though: he crossed his arms and took hold of the bottom of his jumper, raised it slowly, his lean, hard body emerging inch by inch as he pulled the soft wool over his head. Yohji watched, wanting very, very hard as Aya shook his hair free, one hand settling on the buckle of his belt, the other slowly rubbing Yohji's thigh.

So beautiful, his lover. So rich and exotic, so elegant. Aya even managed to undress elegantly. No hopping around on one leg for him while he tried to pull his jeans off. His balance always perfect, his movements fluid. Yohji watched the belt, jeans and underwear disappear, and Aya's eyes were on him all the time, moving frankly and appreciatively over Yohji's body. Devouring him. He came back to the bed, kneeling at Yohji's side.

Aya was hard, very hard (much to Yohji's satisfaction), and there was a delicious bead of clear fluid at the tip which Yohji desperately wanted on his tongue. He scrambled up while Aya was momentarily occupied delving under the bed - probably looking for the lube - and claimed his prize. Savouring Aya's surprised yelp and the long groan that followed it as much as the slick fluid that ran over his tongue. Yohji took Aya's cock in his hand near the root and pressed his thumb along the underside, pushing the precome out of him. Aya groaned again, fingers tangling in Yohji's hair, and balanced, somehow, one hand on the floor, one on Yohji's head, body twisted around but his cock straight and surging into Yohji's mouth. Yohji gulped him down happily, sliding one strong arm around Aya's waist to stop him falling off the bed.

"Fuck, Kudoh..."

Somehow Aya regained his composure, and twisted himself back into a kneeling position, Yohji's head still busy in his lap, licking and sucking all around the tip of his dick. He let him, for a while, fingers smoothing in Yohji's hair, the slight rock of his hips the only hint that Yohji was hitting the mark.

"I want to fuck you," Aya murmured. "Don't make me come."

Yohji cupped Aya's balls in one hand, gave them a playful, gentle tug. "You're not telling me you've only got one load in there, stud?"

Aya glared at him, a good, old-fashioned 'say that again and you're dead' Fujimiya glare that sent a flare of heat through Yohji's body.

"I'm not complaining," Yohji said, quickly.

"Hn. Can I get the lube now without you molesting me?"

"I can't make any promises."

Aya gave him another warning glare and leaned over the edge of the bed. Yohji tried to leave him unmolested. He tried quite hard, really. But the vision of Aya's uptilted ass, perfectly rounded, creamy-pale skin wiggling a little as he rummaged in the box was just too much temptation.

He'd meant it to be a playful tap, really. More of a fondle. But somehow his palm came down with an expert crack, flushing perfect skin rosy pink, and eliciting an indignant... well, squeal was the only word for it, really - from Aya.

"Yohji!" Aya's eyes glittered anger and surprise over his shoulder.

Yohji grinned. "Sorry," he said. "Couldn't resist."

"When can you ever," muttered Aya. And then, in a decided tone that took the grin of Yohji's face in an instant. "Right."

"Right?" echoed Yohji, weakly.

"Right." Aya tugged the box onto the bed and rummaged, picking up things and shoving them back: handcuffs, rope, candles, the table tennis bat. Every toy that Yohji loved so much carelessly rejected in favour of... whatever Aya was looking for.

"I've been naughty," said Yohji, hopefully.

Aya gave him another glare. "That's for me to decide.... Ah. Yes, that'll do."

He finally produced, to Yohji's confusion, a large ostritch feather.

"I'm sure I've been naughtier than that."

"Lie down," said Aya. "Close your eyes."

"But..."

"I said lie down." Not the stern voice of Fujimiya-sensei, but Aya's usual, and none less commanding tone. Yohji lay obediently back on the bed, and closed his eyes.

For what felt like an age, nothing happened, except that he got cold again. He was aware of Aya's presence, not moving, just kneeling next to him, breathing softly, as if he were meditating.

His skin longed for the warmth of his lover's touch. He wasn't even aroused any more, just chilly and increasingly lonely.

"Aya?"

"Be still."

"I'm cold."

"You're beautiful."

Yohji thought for a moment his heart had stopped. He swallowed hard. He felt suddenly vulnerable, exposed, aware of Aya watching him.

"You're too hard on yourself," Aya continued. "I want to show you how good you can feel."

"Hey, that's my line," said Yohji, half-heartedly.

"Exactly."

And then there was a tickle at his shoulder, so soft and unexpected that Yohji flinched, his hand shooting up to swat at the irritant. But it had already moved: tickling his thigh now, and there, his ribs. Just the barest touch before moving on, until he found himself anticipating, trying to guess where it come next. Giggled, and heard Aya's throaty chuckle like a reward.

The feather moved on to dangerous territory: the ticklish dip of Yohji's waist; the inside of his elbow; his belly; the soles of his feet. There were other touches, too, soft fingers taking over when the feather moved on, until Yohji was giggling helplessly, swatting ineffectually at where he thought Aya might be, sneaking a peek through slitted lids once or twice but still unable to catch him, Aya's reflexes sharper even than his own. At some point he realised that the tickling had stopped, or at least, slowed to a gentle wash over his chest, but he was still laughing. Tension forced from his body with every moment, every heave for breath between helpless giggles; release as sure as orgasm.

He only stopped when he realised that the feather was gone, and Aya was licking him: drawing lines of wet fire across his chest, circling his nipples. His body surged with lust, all the fiercer for the release of tension, giving his mind no time to find anything new for him to worry about. His cock hardened again, he arched his body to meet Aya's tongue and the soft brush of his lips. Fingers firmly gripped his hips, holding him down on the bed. He whimpered as Aya's mouth went lower, nose tracing the scant line of hair down from his navel towards his groin, smooth cheek brushing almost accidentally against his newly-stiffened cock. Nudged it out of the way to kiss and lick the skin beneath, nuzzling at the soft curls of hair around it. Bumping gently at his balls, making them ache. His thighs were gently parted, fingers smoothing, calming the skin made hypersensitive by the soft touch of feather. Aya knelt between his legs, tilted his hips and tongued through the soft fuzz that covered his balls, and lower, and lower, and...

Yohji cried out as Aya's tongue found his hole; every nerve ending suddenly thrumming. He shoved his hips up, unable to restrain his need, suddenly wanting nothing in the world as much as this. Aya's tongue firm and insistent, wetting him and pushing into his body, slick and warm and Yohji's legs were trembling under his lover's sure hands. The further Aya's tongue dipped, the emptier Yohji felt; wanting nothing so much as to be filled with Aya's hot, hard flesh.

"Fuck me, Aya... please fuck me..."

"Not yet." But Aya took his mouth away as well, leaving Yohji to curse himself for saying anything.

"Don't leave me hanging here," he begged. "I want you so fucking much..."

"I'll fuck you." Aya leaned over him on all fours, hair straggling down to tickle Yohji's face. "When you're good and ready."

"But-"

Something was pressed into his hand: plastic, faintly sticky. The lube bottle. "Prepare yourself. And I want to see you enjoy it." A gentle hand stroking through Yohji's hair, softening the rough authority of Aya's voice. "Take your time."

And then Aya pulled away, dropping a few tantalising kisses to Yohji's skin as he retreated to the end of the bed where he sat, cross-legged, and began slowly to stroke himself.

He was still wearing the socks, Yohji noticed. His dick gave an appreciative twitch. Aya had exactly the right legs for socks; leanly muscled calves and slender ankles, smaller-than-average feet. Toes with that tendency to wiggle that captured Yohji's attention like a cat to a mouse.

Yohji leaned back against the pillows, and spread his legs. Was about to slick himself with a glob of lube and jump Aya regardless, certain that he wouldn't really fight him, not if his swollen, leaking cock was anything to go by. But as he reached his fingers down, accidentally brushing the head of his cock, another idea occurred to him.

Two could play at the teasing game, he thought. And besides.

It felt good. It felt really, really good.

He squirted a dollop of lube into his hand, and wrapped it around his cock. Gave it a few settling tugs, just taking the edge off the itch. Settled his other hand below his balls, cupping them gently, feeling their satisfying weight and warmth. Trailed his fingers over his length, taking pleasure in the smoothness of the skin, the elegant arc of his erection, the incredible sensitivity of the head. The little hole at the top pouting at him, making him wish he was supple enough to take it in his own mouth. Although it would feel so much better in Aya's....

He slipped into fantasy for a while, lazily stroking his cock while he stared at Aya's mouth: glistening lips, even, white teeth, tongue fidgeting, darting out to tease him, deliberately licking slowly across Aya's lower lip. Aya shifted, legs pressing restlessly down to the mattress, drawing Yohji's eyes down to his cock. His strokes firmer than Yohji's, fist clenched firmly around his erection, moving steadily back and forth. Fucking. Fucking. Fucking.

Yohji's ass clenched. Wanting that inside him, hot and hard, pressing and rubbing his most sensitive places. Yohji held his balls out of the way with one hand while the fingers of the other snaked down slowly to touch the hole beneath. Not as exciting as Aya's touch, but still... he circled and teased himself, watching Aya watching him, feeling incredibly lewd and pleasantly sluttish. Then Aya moved, surging up onto his knees, watching intently as Yohji stroked around and around and up and down; he rested one hand on the inside of Yohji's thigh, absently pushing his legs still wider apart.

Yohji watched, and stroked. Scooped up some of the drips of lube from his cock and spread it around his entrance. Aya reached for the bottle and looked up with a raised eyebrow; Yohji nodded, and Aya flipped the cap and squeezed it straight onto his skin, not touching him, just dripping the slick stuff over his balls and beyond, leaving it to Yohji to dabble his fingers in it, work it into the dimple of his asshole. Cool and soothing and exciting all at once.

He watched Aya's face as he pushed his middle finger inside. His body offered no resistance; the challenge of one slender finger was nothing compared to what he yearned for. Aya's cock. He wanted Aya's big, stiff cock inside him, fucking him, hot and hard and... he hissed out breath; another finger joined the first, sliding in and out, stretching and stroking.

"Make it wetter," he breathed, his voice rough and husky.

Aya squirted the lube at him again, thoroughly coating his fingers, managing to get some of it right inside him as he opened himself up.
Three fingers were easy now; he squirmed and clenched and wriggled around them. But it wasn't enough. He still had an itch that wasn't close to being scratched. He looked longingly at Aya's long fingers, where they rested on his thigh.

"Want you to.... please, Aya, give me a hand here?"

He half expected Aya to refuse, but on the contrary, he let out a strangled gasp, and eagerly settled himself between Yohji's thighs. Yohji watched hungrily as Aya slipped his own talented fingers inside him. Slowly, carefully, twisting just a little, tapping and stroking inside of him until Aya found the place he was looking for. Pressing firmly, then, and a jet of precome squirted from Yohji's cock so sudden and copious that for a moment he thought he'd come.

Aya raised an eyebrow. "Ever been milked?" he asked, curiously.

Yohji had had no idea Aya had even come across that particular concept, but the fact that he had made his eyes glaze over with lust. "No."

"We'll have to put that right one day." Aya smiled lopsidedly at him. "It's better if you're tied right."

Yohji had always known sex with Aya would be good. From the first time he'd laid eyes on the man, all tucked up in his bed. But he'd never in a million years begun to guess it would be this good.

He let out a long groan, clenching around Aya's fingers. He couldn't stand much more. Without him even realising it, his hand had started to wank his cock, stroking back and forth with a delicious, dangerous rhythm. He was rock hard and tingling, and his balls were tight. But he was hungry, despite the incredible pleasure Aya's finger was sending through his body. He wanted more. Wanted to be full and fucked and watching Aya's face as he came.

"Please," he choked out. "I want you so much. Please fuck me. Please..." voice turning to a whine, almost a sob.

Then Aya's mouth was on his, hot and hard, devouring him; the arm that held his weight off Yohji's body was trembling, and he was panting. He pulled away and fumbled for the lube, slathering it over himself this time, and with shaking hands he lined up the head of his cock with Yohji's ass, dropped down for another kiss before he started to push inside. Carefully, opening him bit by bit, tantalisingly, agonisingly slow, until Yohji felt the gentle slap of Aya's balls against his ass. All the way inside. All the way. Full and thick and hot.

"Oh God," Aya breathed, dropping down, forearms framing Yohji's head, fingers tangling sticky in his hair. "Oh God. You're so tight. So wet. So.... oh, God."

Yohji wrapped his arms around Aya's neck, his legs around his back, tilted his hips up to suck him even deeper inside. They started to fuck, long and deep, too late for slow but that didn't matter. Yohji closed his eyes and lost himself. Nothing but the slip and slide and heat and the warm glow of pleasure, the deep, inevitable need growing inside of him.

Aya groaned loudly, and reared up, wrapping his fingers around Yohji's hard, slippery cock and jerking him fiercely. Determined not to come first, the stubborn bastard. But Yohji was far from complaining. His balls were full and aching for release and he surrendered willingly, arching and shuddering as his come shot hard enough to splatter his neck, and as soon as he did Aya's cock swelled and spurted inside of him. Hard, pulsing pleasure claimed his body again and again, finally leaving him spent and gasping, cradling Aya's collapsed, slick body to his chest. Stuck together with sweat and come and lube, and Aya still wearing those damn socks, tickling Yohji's feet.

Yohji must have passed out around then, because next he knew Aya was wiping him off with a warm, damp cloth, looking down at him with a fond, mischevious expression that Yohji rarely saw.

"You made a mess," he said.

"Yeah," said Yohij, smugly.

Aya snorted.

Yohji lay there happily as Aya cleaned them both up, tidied up their clothes and bits and pieces, kicked the box back under the bed and turned down the light. He hustled Yohji under the rumpled covers and joined him there, tangling their legs together. Kissed Yohji's forehead like he never did, and buried his nose in Yohij's hair. Sighed. Happily.

"Hey, Aya."

"Mmm?"

"You've still got your socks on."

"It's cold. You'd rather have blocks of ice rub against you all night?"

"No," said Yohji, with a little smile that Aya couldn't see. "I guess I can put up with it."

"Hm," mumbled Aya. "Thanks."

"No problem," said Yohji, generously.

And his smile got just a little wider.

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