Lost

from the Wild series
by scribblemoose

"If only he would let me. If only I could talk to him!" Omi lifted his face, his eyes huge puddles of tears. "He was starting to open up, Aya-kun, after that time at the church, I swear he was getting better! He... it was like..." Omi's lower lip wobbled, and Aya instinctively, if awkwardly, reached an arm around his shoulders to comfort him.

"It's not your fault. We all make our own choices."

"This is my choice, Aya-kun. I have to go and look for him."

"Omi, you don't even know where to start. He's been gone for hours."

"It doesn't matter. I still have to try."

Aya couldn't argue with Omi at his most vulnerable. Besides, who knew? Maybe Omi really was the only person who could reach Ken now. It had to be worth a try: the alternative didn't bear thinking about. "Check in every hour. Take no risks. If you need back up, call and I'll be there."

Omi clutched at Aya's arm, face full of gratitude.

He watched Omi grab his coat and crossbow and hop down the steps from the mobile shop to the muddy ground outside. Skipping off as if he were going to the store for supplies.

"You let the chibi go?"

Yohji's arms wrapped around Aya from behind. Aya let out a sigh and sank back into Yohji's warm body.

"He would have gone anyway. I don't know why he bothered asking."

"He needs your approval right now. He respects you."

"I don't know about that. But I'm glad he's being honest. One rogue in the team is more than enough."

"Mm." Yohji nuzzled his neck. "I hope he finds Kenken. He's already been gone longer than before."

"There's a mission tomorrow. He'll be back for that."

"You sound awful sure of that, Aya-kun." Yohji nibbled absently on Aya's earlobe. "It's always possible he-"

"No," Aya said firmly. He couldn't entertain the thought that Ken had deserted them entirely. Not yet. "Where would he go? He knows Kritiker would hunt him down."

"That's assuming that Kenken's actually thinking." Yohji gave Aya a little squeeze and kissed his neck. "It's not his strong point at the best of times."

"He needs the missions to feed it. He needs to kill. He has to..."

But Aya's voice tailed off as a different sort of need warmed his own belly. His eyes flickered shut and he surrendered to Yohji's embrace.

*******

Ken shielded his eyes from the sun with one gloved hand and stared up at the huge house towering in front of him. It was the right address. The directions had been very clear. But surely...

No. It was the place. He was just getting cold feet. And it was too late for that.

Ken gathered his determination and climbed the steps to the front door.

Schuldig was waiting for him in the hallway, leaning against the white-painted wall, arms folded across his chest, red hair bright against the immaculate white of his suit.

"I'm here to see Crawford," Ken said, doing his best to avoid Schuldig's gaze.

"Yes, I know."

Of course he knew.

Ken hesitated. He wasn't sure whether Schuldig was there to greet him or just to make him feel crap, and he didn't know how to handle either. Anger rose like bile in his throat and he clenched his fists.

"Down the hall. Third door on the left." Schuldig smirked at him. "Knock yourself out, kid."

Ken ignored the jibe and strode off down the hall. It didn't matter. He didn't have to like Schuldig, or the others come to that. It was better that way. Safer. The rage coursed through him, blanked his mind like alcohol or sex. Things were simple when the blood rose and instinct took over.

He found himself in Crawford's office. The same leather chair and huge oak desk - oh God, the desk - that had been in the last place.

"You found us, then."

Crawford's voice soothed and settled him. It was so relaxed. Confident. Reassuring.

"I'm not an idiot."

"No. But we must teach you to use door handles, Siberian. The other way gets expensive."

Ken followed Crawford's gaze over his shoulder. The door creaked from blasted hinges, shards of wood hanging off.

Had he done that? He didn't remember.

"Don't call me Siberian," he said, softly, because there was a faint memory of Omi and clean sheets and the tang of blood and he couldn't bear it.

"Then what should I call you, my kitty-kat?"

"Hidoka. Ken. Anything. Just..."

"How does Persia sound?"

"What?" Ken blinked.

"Ah, nothing." Crawford waved one hand dismissively. "A new name would be a good idea. Symbolic. Names are powerful things, Kittycat."

"I don't want to be Persia. I don't want anything to do with Weiß. That's why-"

"-you keep running back to them, tail between your legs, looking for another chance?" Crawford's voice had suddenly taken on a harsh edge. The sun glinted off his glasses.

"That's bullshit," Ken said, choked up and trembling.

"It doesn't matter," Crawford soothed, and crossed the room to stand in front of him, close enough that Ken could smell his expensive, subtle aftershave. Ken felt suddenly scruffy and unkempt. "Eventually you'll realise where your future lies. You've been making excellent progress, Kittycat. I'm proud of you. It won't be long before you see them for what they really are. After all," Crawford lifted Ken's chin and smiled. "They don't give a fuck about you, do they? Where are they now? Reporting you to Kritiker for having the guts to enjoy the job they pay you for? Squealing to Persia? Or are they too caught up in the sordid little drama of their own petty lives to even care that much about you?"

Ken bit his lower lip, glaring up at Crawford in fragile defiance.

He knew exactly what they'd be doing. Yohji and Aya would be living out the obsessive affair they thought was so secret, while Omi cried buckets for the Ken who didn't exist, or ran to Manx to report the one who did.

No-one had even tried to stop him leaving this time.

"Give me a name," he said, his fingers clenching around Crawford's wrist. He felt the pulse there. Throbbing. Strong. "I'm not going back."

Crawford smiled. "There's a good Kittycat."

Crawford slipped a finger between Ken's lips and opened his mouth before dipping his head to kiss him. Ken choked back tears and rage, and let Crawford take him.

Oblivion at last.

*******

Yohji tossed the file back over to Aya and plucked another from the pile between them. This was taking forever and they weren't getting anywhere.

"I'm bored," he proclaimed. "Can we fuck now?"

"Not until we get a lead."

Yohji pouted. "There was a time when we had all this done for us." He opened up another file.

"Those days are long gone. Kritiker's under more strain than ever. This couldn't have come at a worse time."

"Is there any such thing as a good time?" Yohji tipped his head back against the wall and regarded Aya through slitted eyes. Aya's teeth were clenched around a pencil as he flicked through the papers in front of him. His hair fell raggedly into his eyes.

"Fuck me, Aya."

Aya went still.

"I know you want to."

Aya slowly took the pencil from between his lips. "We're working."

"A quickie would do. A blow job. Come on, Aya, this is so fucking boring."

Aya's met his, smouldering. "Omi could come back at any minute. Or Ken."

"So? We'd hear them coming in time to stop."

Aya's gaze flitted around the tiny mission room, instinctively checking exits and entrances. He licked his lips.

"We must stop doing this," Aya murmured as he stalked across the bed on hands and knees, capturing Yohji firmly in his sights.

"Whatever you say."

Aya's mouth crushed his and Yohji grasped strands of silky red hair, tugging just tight enough to make Aya gasp. Their tongues danced and twisted around each other, lips numbing with friction and desire. Aya deftly undid Yohji's jeans and plunged his hand inside. He took Yohji's cock in a firm grasp like a handshake and squeezed.

Yohji gasped. "Oh God," he stuttered against Aya's mouth.

"You're hard, Kudoh."

"You're touching me. Of course I'm hard."

He felt Aya smile. His cock throbbed. Aya squeezed it again and slid down. He fluttered his eyes open to catch Yohji's gaze as he spread Yohji's legs and settled himself between them.

Yohji held his breath.

Aya's mouth was hot, wet, insistent, tongue swiping out to lick the sticky drops from the head of Yohji's cock before taking it all down in one smooth slide. Yohji clenched his fists, pressing into his thighs as he struggled to adjust to the sudden exquisite pleasure.

Aya drew back a little, readjusting the angle of Yohji's cock and his throat, then swallowed him down again. He began to suck Yohji's dick with a sort of twisting motion - Yohji had never worked out quite how he did it but it felt incredible. It was as if his cock was having the come wrung out of it, every inch of skin alive and wet and tingling.

Aya paused to lick a finger, and another. He lifted Yohji's balls and wormed his way behind them to find his hole. Before Yohji could even catch his breath his dick was back inside Aya's mouth, his ass was full of Aya's fingers and all he could think was fuck, fuck, fuck...

He watched Aya's hair trembling over his belly. Aya straddled Yohji's leg, rubbing himself against his knee in the same twisting rhythm as the suck and fingerfuck. So hot that Yohji could barely stand it. It was a long way from the cool, aloof assassin of the flower shop. This Aya got hornier and bolder every time they had sex; irresistible and merciless. Yohji bucked his hips, fucking Aya's mouth, sliding back and forth across his writhing tongue. Aya's lips kissed the root of Yohji's cock and with a single cry of unheeded warning, Yohji came. Hard.

He watched Aya swallow, throat working, tongue swirling around him as Yohji thrust helplessly into Aya's mouth. Aya looked up at him, all smug satisfaction.

Yohji fell back gasping. Before he'd even begun to gather his wits Aya straddled him, hissing as he tugged down the zip of his own jeans. His cock was hard, purple-red with need and Yohji watched, entranced, as Aya stroked it. Fast, deft moves and then a yell, and Yohji barely closed his eyes in time before the first spurt hit his face. He groaned, opened his mouth to take whatever Aya could feed him, tasting bitter-sweet cream soft and sticky, splashing over his lips and nose and tongue. His cock jerked in sympathy with the rhythm of Aya's orgasm.

Yohji was drowning happily in Aya's come when the dormant part of his brain, the part that kept him alive, registered something. He forced himself to focus. Footsteps.

"Aya! Aya, someone's coming! Quick!"

Aya looked stunned, smearing a trail of semen along Yohji's cheekbone with a sense of wonder, as if it had appeared there by magic.

"Aya!" Yohji hissed, shoving his half-hard cock back into his pants with more haste than safety really demanded. "Aya, come on!"

Aya's eyes went wide as he finally registered what Yohji was telling him. He sprang into action, and managed to get himself zipped up and respectable just as the door opened. Yohji was still fumbling about with tissues.

"Aya-kun?"

"Omi." Aya's voice was cool and calm as ever. Yohji feigned a sneeze to cover his efforts to get Aya's gunk off his face.

"Yohji-kun."

Yohji coughed and sputtered, hoping for the best as he emerged from behind his clutch of tissues, still dabbing at his nose. Omi was glaring at him. At both of them. Shit, shit, shit.

"Did you find Ken?" said Aya, as if nothing had happened.

"No," said Omi, in a dangerously quiet voice. "I decided to go and wait in the cafe up on the mountain road. He rides the bike up there a lot. I took some work with me."

He waved something under Yohji's nose, so close Yohji couldn't focus on it. Black, plastic, square... aha. A computer disk.

"Omi?" Yohji fought to get his fuddled brain working.

"Is that the data we collected at the church?" Aya asked.

"No," said Omi. "But it should have been."

"What?" Yohji was getting more confused by the minute.

"The contacts are on there. But your report describes files, other files, the variations on the Wunder X frequency generator. Those file are missing."

"I saved them!" squeaked Yohji indignantly.

Omi raised an eyebrow. An unusually cynical eyebrow, for Omi.

"I fucking did! Didn't I, Aya? Remember? I called you over to look at the computer and then-"

Aya caught Yohji's eye and coughed delicately.

Oh.

Suddenly Yohji remembered... the warmth of Aya's body, sweet temptation, a rush of adrenaline and Aya so hot, so dangerous, the concrete hard and rough beneath his knees and Aya's cock in his mouth...

"Oh crap."

Omi threw the disk onto the pile of papers between them in disgust. "I thought so."

"It was a mistake," Aya said. "We had to leave in a hurry. We were almost found. If they'd found out we'd so much as turned on the computer they might have guessed we knew..."

"Exactly!" Yohji said eagerly. "We didn't have time to check the files had copied right."

"You didn't mention any of that in your report."

Yohji's heart sank. Omi held his gaze for long enough to make his flesh crawl with guilt and embarrassment, and then he let out a long sigh.

"Point is, we don't have the information. So I can't analyse it. That means we're no closer to finding out what was going on or how we can stop it."

Yohji picked up the traitorous disk and slipped it in his pocket. "I'll go back tonight. Soon as it's dark. Sorry, chibi. Didn't mean to let you down."

That raised an almost-smile from the kid, at least.

"I'll come with you," Aya said. "Make sure you don't get into any more trouble."

He gave Yohji a harsh look - much harsher, Yohji thought, than he really deserved. It was Aya who'd distracted him in the first place, after all.

"Thanks," said Omi. "I'm going out. Check in on the usual number when you start the mission." He turned to leave the room; his back was tense and rigid, hands trembling. Yohji had never seen Omi like this before. There was a coldness in the huge cornflower eyes that sent a shudder down his spine.

"Where are you going?" said Aya.

"Back to the cafe. Someone has to look out for Ken."

"You didn't find him, then?" Yohji said, stupidly.

"Not yet. But I will, before the night's out. One way or another."

"Right. Good. Yes." Yohji stammered.

"Don't forget to call," said Omi. "And if you could keep your minds on the job, it would really help."

Aya and Yohji watched in stunned silence as Omi left.

"You know, it's funny," Yohji said as the door clicked shut. "I always thought of you as our leader."

"Yes," said Aya with a cold, indignant glare at the space where Omi had just been standing. "So did I."

*******

Ken rolled over, smooth, clean sheets caressing his skin. Crawford lay on his back, a faint smile on his lips. He looked smug. Annoyingly handsome. Sleek and deadly.

"I ought to be getting back," Ken said. "It must be late."

"Or you could stay." Crawford's eyes slid open, blinking slowly like a snake.

"Stay?"

"Here."

Ken swallowed hard. "With you? Like this?"

"Your choice, Siberian."

"I told you not to call me that."

"So you did." Crawford turned over to face him, reached out and stroked the hair back from his face. "I'd like you to stay."

Ken doubted that it was meant as a romantic gesture. He doubted very much that Crawford did romance at all. He probably just fancied another fuck, or maybe he got lonely and liked to keep another body to have around in case the night got too long or too dark, or the ghosts too noisy.

He wondered if Schuldig had lain between these dark silk sheets and thought the selfsame thing.

Crawford trailed his fingertips over Ken's lower lip.

It wasn't as if he had anything to go back to, Ken reasoned. Yohji and Aya would be off fucking somewhere and Omi would be pretending not to notice. Or maybe there would be some tedious mission briefing. Or worse of all, there might be a lecture.

Nothing to go back for.

"Convince me," he said, and slowly sucked Crawford's fingers into his mouth. He hoped he didn't look too stupid, or too eager.

Crawford gave him a slow, predatory smile. "I can do that."

His hand traced the curve of Ken's spine, coming to rest on his ass. Ken swirled his tongue around Crawford's fingers. He wanted to close his eyes but he didn't dare, not yet. He was fairly sure now that Crawford's plans didn't involve killing him, but that didn't mean he trusted him. Not by a long way.

Besides, he wanted to watch. To be inexcusably aware of who he was with and what they were doing. There was no point pretending, especially when it sent such a thrill through him.

Crawford rolled him onto his back and took his fingers from Ken's mouth. He parted Ken's thighs and knelt between them, silk sheets sliding down his body to land in rich, black folds around them.

Crawford was direct about sex, but he was careful too. Considerate, even. He watched Ken's face as he got him ready, studying his reactions. "You're very tight," he said appreciatively. "Tight but willing."

Ken nodded. As if it had been a question.

"You want this." Crawford slipped fingers inside him, working the lube in, stretching him.

"Yes."

"You need this."

More quietly: "Yes."

A small smile curved Crawford's lips.

His fingers twisted and thrusted, rubbed Ken's sweet spot and made him cry out. A sudden moment of vivid tension.

"You're coming along nicely."

To his horror Ken felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He felt suddenly wretched and lonely, for all the pleasure Crawford was giving him, and wanted more than anything to be held, to feel another heartbeat against his skin. He thought of Yuriko, of Omi, of Kase...

Crawford had stopped. He'd planted a hand either side of Ken's head and was looking down at him, dark hair shadowing his eyes.

Different, without his glasses. Softer.

"You can leave anytime," he said.

Ken shook his head. "No. I just... I want this."

Crawford cupped Ken's jaw, traced his thumb across a cheekbone with surprising, painful tenderness. "Then let yourself take what you need. Forget them. They're not important anymore. Forget the past, forget the future. When you're here with me that's all there is. Now. This. Here." His lips met Ken's in a soft wash of a kiss, slow and hungry, nothing like the rough, dominating kisses there had been before. Ken found himself melting, sinking back into clean sheets and soft pillows. Cautiously, he wound his arms around Crawford's neck and dared to touch his hair, twisting in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Crawford gave a deep grunt of approval, and took their kiss still deeper.

*******

Aya dropped silently through the trap door to land just behind Yohji.

"Shit," Yohji said.

That just about summed it up. The catacombs were empty. No desks, no filing cabinets, and most importantly, no computer. Just dust and dirt, alcoves waiting for the dead.

Shit didn't even come close, really.

"I can't believe I cocked up this badly," Yohji muttered.

Aya could: it wasn't the first time, after all. Yohji was prone to distraction at the best of times and it usually got him into trouble. But Aya wasn't. Until now. He felt a stab of guilt.

His eyes flickered to the tunnel, swift remembrance of adrenaline and heated pleasure.

He frowned.

"What is it?" Yohji followed his gaze.

"It's dark."

"What, you expected them to leave the lights on for us?" Yohji grinned. He seemed to have bounced back from his failure remarkably quickly.

"No, more that..." Aya peered into the tunnel and risked a quick flash of light. His torch beam flared against a rough stone wall. Rubble, mostly. "They've sealed the tunnel," he said. "Let's get out of here."

He turned for the trap door but Yohji caught him, spun him around to fall neatly into his lover's arms. "Sure," Yohji drawled, eyes all mischief and teasing heat. "Just take a moment to savour the memories, Ayan."

Excitement flared in Aya's belly, shockingly fast. Even now, when they were faced so absolutely with the consequences of their recklessness, even now his body threatened to command his mind.

"Stop it," he said, hating how feeble it sounded. "Move."

"Like this?" Yohji ground his hips into Aya's in one hard circle, enough to elicit a tiny moan, and then he was gone. Laughing as he pulled his long body up through the trap door, leaving Aya standing there aching for him.

Aya blinked, choked back rage and lust and ignored the offered hand, pulling himself up into the room above determinedly under his own steam.

There was a bloodstain on the carpet by the couch. Probably his. They ought to clear that up. This was one of the keenest dangers of working without the might of Kritiker behind them. No clean up opps. No cover ups. No safety net. If he and Yohji had died here…

"The bell tower," said Yohji. "There might be something there."

Aya answered him with a curt nod. They took the hard stone stairs at a jog.

*******

Ken's head tipped back, hair falling softly around his shoulders. Crawford was kneeling, one strong arm supporting Ken around the waist as they fucked. He panted, warm puffs of breath against Ken's chest as he dipped down to kiss a nipple. Ken crossed his legs around Crawford's back, heels grazing his butt, stretched and warm and open, and very nearly there.

"Yes," Crawford hissed. He scooped Ken up close and kissed him. "Yes."

"Mnngh," Ken managed, and flickered his tongue into Crawford's mouth. More kissing. Distraction from the pounding, pulsing pleasure in his ass and delicious in its own right.

"Climb…." Crawford mumbled. "Higher… higher…"

Ken shuddered and came, too far gone to really hear Crawford's stuttered words, never mind make sense of them. He let the sharp white of bliss fill his mind, chasing off the stain of red and black and poured himself on Crawford's belly. White cream. Life. His.

Ken slipped back to his senses to find himself soundly kissed, more triumph than lust. He wasn't sure if Crawford had come at all; he knew only that he was slipping free, laying Ken gently on the crisp white sheets and stroking back his sweat-damp hair.

"Sleep well, my Kittycat," Crawford whispered softly.

Ken thought there was a smile, a triumph far beyond the bed.

In an instant, he was asleep.

Illustration by PL Nunn