Marvel

by scribblemoose

"Thanks, chibi." Yohji ruffled Omi's hair; Omi instinctively scowled for a second before his familiar gracious smile beamed up at his team-mate as he scraped his chair back from the table. "I don't know what we'd do without you. Now, don't spend too long looking at porn on the net, eh? Try and get to bed at a decent time."

Omi blushed furiously. "I don't know what you mean, Yohji-kun."

Yohji just laughed; Ken joined in, and even Aya smiled.

"I have homework," he protested. "Not to mention the matter of that stolen car you asked me to track down, out of all the thousands of blue Toyotas in Tokyo. And I don't suppose you'll be doing the dishes before you go out?"

"Sorry, bishounen." Another infuriating hair-ruffle. "We have to run or we'll miss the start of the movie. We really appreciate all your hard work, though, don't we, Aya."

"Yes," said Aya. "But Yohji's right. Try not to be late going to bed."

Omi sighed. "Alright. I'll do my best."

"That's the ticket," said Yohji cheerfully, reaching for his coat with one hand and Aya with the other. "You'll do it, I'm sure. You're a marvel, Omi."

Omi gritted his teeth, not trusting himself to speak as Yohji and Aya left with a cheerful wave. Even the sound of Aya giving a muted squeak, followed by a yelp from Yohji as he paid the price for daring to give his boyfriend's bottom a playful slap, didn't take the edge of Omi's simmering fury.

"I could help you with the dishes," Ken offered.

"Thank you, Ken-kun" said Omi, tightly. However uncharitable it felt, Omi couldn't be fully grateful; after all, if Ken had taken his turn on surveillance the other night instead of staying late at soccer practice, he might not be having to hack into the car registration lists and checking out endless combinations of car details to find the missing Toyota.

Sometimes Omi thought he was the only one of them that really took Weiß seriously at all, except when it came to personal revenge. Then it was different. Then it was all action and running about and dedication. But give them a mission that wasn't personal to them, especially, heaven forbid, one that didn't involve any actual killing, and-

"I'm sorry, Omi. We take you for granted, don't we?"

Omi looked up into Ken's soft gaze, and immediately felt guilty.

"Sometimes," he murmured.

"I could make it up for you." Fingers slid into Omi's hair, not to ruffle, but to soothe.

Impossibly, Omi's eyes got wider. "Make it up to me?"

"We've been uncaring bastards. You work so hard all the time. Let me make it up to you." Ken stepped in close; Omi looked up at him, and smiled.

"What... how..."

"Well, how's this?"

Then Ken was kneeling on the cold floor between Omi's bare knees; he was unzipping Omi's shorts and freeing his cock, still soft, shock not yet transmuted to pleasure. But a few moments in Ken's hot, loving mouth soon put that to rights. Omi's cornflower eyes slid shut and he let his head drop back, his hands cradling Ken's skull as his lover tormented him with lips and tongue. Sucked hungrily on him, and finally fucked him with his mouth until all Omi could do was come helplessly down his throat, and then, at the end, Ken pulled back to catch the final spurts on his cheeks, across his swollen lips.

"There," said Ken, softly, licking stray dribbles from the head of Omi's cock. "Better?"

Omi nodded, mute with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"I'll help you with the search," said Ken. "It's my fault, after all. I'll wash up while you do your homework, okay?"

Omi gazed in wonder at his lover, and his usual warm smile spread slowly across his face.