I Need a Miracle

Sequel to Belsunce Breakdown, so read that first, yo. ^_-

I Need a Miracle

by Utopian Trunks

"Ara... you're the only one here?"

Manx ducked under the store's shutter-door, hearing it pulled shut behind her. She tugged her short, white skirt back into place, smoothing invisible wrinkles in the matching suit-jacket and black silk top underneath. "I know we said we were going to give you two weeks off, but this came up, and..."

There was a conspicuous lack of a heavy arm around her shoulders, silence where Youji's sweet-tongued, joking flirtation should have been. Manx blinked large, artfully black-lined ocean eyes at his aproned figure as he straightened and faced her. She'd been prepared for some of the teasing Youji had promised four days earlier, at the New Year's party. Not that she'd have let him get too far before she reminded him what else had happened there. But, one way or the other, she'd anticipated his being in fairly high spirits, and instead... "Are you all right?" Silky crimson curls shifted over her shoulders as she tilted her head to one side. "You don't look so well."

Balinese dusted his hands slowly over the kitten logo on his apron. He looked uncharacteristically weary--even for someone known to his fans as always seeming sleepy. "It's nothin'." He held out a hand. "Whatcha got for us?"

"Where are the others?"

Youji shrugged, outstretched arm falling to his side. "I think Ken and Omi are both at soccer practice." He set intently to flicking dirt off one of his plastic gloves. "Dunno 'bout Aya. I wouldn't'a been here, either, but I got your call just as I was leaving."

The Kritiker agent looked at the assassin's soil-stained work-clothes, then glanced into the shop where a red tulip and white bougainvillaea arrangement was half-finished on one table, with spare flowers, scissors, wax-paper and ribbon strewn carelessly about.

"I see..." Manx arched one elegant scarlet brow.

Youji looked up from his glove. His mouth crumpled into a miserable frown. "You look like Aya when you do that."

Manx's second brow shot up to join the first. "Balinese, do you have a moment?"

Youji shrugged again, sighing. "Sure, I've got nothing but time."

Because you were just leaving, right? Manx thought, but decided it would be kinder not to call him on it.

"Just let me put these away," he said.

Manx watched Youji gather up his materials and store the unfinished arrangement in the cold display. There were three more inside that had his definite earmark on them; he'd been down here for a while. And a diligent Youji could never be a good sign.

"Take off your gloves and apron, at least," Manx said, when Youji finished. "Could we sit in the kitchen?" Youji nodded and peeled off the gloves, stuffing them in the front pocket of the apron before hanging it up and leading the way.

Manx pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down, crossing her legs. She held up a finger as Youji moved to do the same. "Wait. I know you're a house full of bachelors, but you must have something in your fridge."

Youji started. "Sorry, I should've offered--"

"Not for me," Manx cut him off. "You don't look like you've slept or eaten in a while."

"Not true." Youji frowned. "And I'm not hungry."

The woman folded her arms, expression placid but voice just as subtly commanding as ever. "At least make yourself some tea, then."

Youji looked on the verge of arguing. Then he sighed and went to get the kettle out of a cupboard. "So?" He asked as he filled it, his back to her. "What's up?"

"I want to know what happened since Sunday."

Youji's shoulders stiffened. "Straight to the point."

"I'm a busy woman."

"Mm..." He occupied himself with the stove for a few moments. Manx waited, unruffled, as Youji failed three times to light the burner, muttering in annoyance. Finally he succeeded, and set down the kettle. He took a slow breath. "Nothing much. I guess I'm not speaking with Aya, although I can't really tell."

"Oh?"

Youji shrugged. "He's been ignoring me."

"More than usual?"

"Who'da thought possible, right?" Youji sat down across from Manx, both elbows on the table.

Manx clicked her tongue reprovingly. "He seemed enthusiastic enough at the time."

"What're you, kidding?" Youji sputtered. "He nearly killed us all for dragging him out there!"

"I meant afterwards."

"Eh?"

Manx smiled.

Youji's cheek-bones dusted over with pink. "What'd they tell you?"

Manx's smile widened. "I'm going on what I witnessed."

Youji paused. "What do you...?" His eyes widened, face flushing scarlet. "Oh, no... you... you could see?! From downstairs?"

Manx nodded.

"Oh, no. No, no, no." Youji buried his face in both hands. "Don't tell Aya. He really will kill me."

Manx half-stifled a laugh. "I think he knew."

"What?"

"Abyssinian wouldn't mistake something like that, he must have known it was possible to see up as well as down."

Youji stared at her between his fingers. "You're kidding," he croaked.

She shook her head.

Youji groaned, slumping forward onto the table. "I'll never live this down."

"I wouldn't worry. It's not like it was a clear view. No one would be trying to see up there unless they knew to look. And even if they did, they probably wouldn't have recognized you."

"Maybe..." Youji ran a hand through his hair, keeping his face down. "But..." his voice dropped a notch. "I think this makes it worse."

"Hm?" Manx leaned forward. "How?"

"Be... because... He was angry at me for tricking him into going, but..." Youji swallowed. "I... when I saw him, and he... Well, I just assumed that he was gonna forgive me. But it looks like... he was drunk and angry, and he thought he might as well have some fun that night and... get back at me in the process." The hand under Youji's forehead clenched.

Manx frowned. "Balinese..."

Youji lifted his face slightly, giving her a positively mournful look. "Don't you think?"

"I don't--" The kettle whistled.

Youji pushed himself up and went to pour the tea. "You want some?"

"No. Listen--"

The brunet sighed as he sat back down with his cup held carefully in both hands. "It was my fault, after all. I mean, I dragged him somewhere he didn't wanna be, where he was sure to get drunk, and then took advantage of the situation. He has a right to be mad."

"Excuse me--" Manx began again, almost scowling.

"You really do kinda look like him," Youji interrupted for the third time, gazing at her over the rim of his teacup. He hurried on, "I don't really wanna talk about it, okay? I'll get over it."

Manx folded her arms and looked askance at the assassin.

Youji took another sip and turned his eyes away. "I'm jealous, Manx. You and Birman have a good relationship."

The redhead started, blinking. "That's not--" she started. "Oh, really. You didn't even know we were together till that night."

Youji smiled a bit. "You looked happy. I could tell that much."

"Well..." Manx shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the topic.

"How'd you two ever end up a couple?"

"That's hardly--" Manx caught the pleading expression on Youji's face and her own softened. "Ah, it was a long time ago."

"What?" Youji's eyebrows lifted. "And here you both led me on since I joined!"

"We did nothing of the sort," Manx snorted. "Just because neither of us ever saw fit to slap you--"

"You wound me," Youji pouted, then laughed. "But tell me how it started? Naa, be nice. After all, you've got one up on me. Please?"

Balinese really did have a way with... well, with anyone. "Fine."

"Lucky!" Youji beamed. When he wanted, he could do 'cute' even better than Omi.

"We trained together when we first entered Kritiker--" she paused, glancing towards the ceiling. "--about twenty years ago, now."

"When you were--"

"Don't ask."

Youji grinned. "Sorry, sorry. Of course not."

"Anyway, we became friends during training. And, well, things progressed from there."

"How?" Youji leaned forward. "Who made the first move?"

Manx smiled in spite of herself. It really wasn't appropriate to be discussing this with him, although perhaps he was the most likely member of Weiß for her to confide in. After the catastrophic failure of his final private investigation, before he officially joined Weiß, Manx had spent a good deal of time with Youji during his convalescence. Birman had saved him, but Manx was the one in charge of coordinating his hospitalization and treatment, and briefing him on the new life he was being offered under Kritiker's wing. In that time, she had gotten to know Youji reasonably well, and learned a lot about his past.

Birman had done the same with Ken, so Manx knew less about Weiß's second member. Both of Persia's "secretaries" had developed a strong affection for Omi in the years they trained him to become the first member of the third Weiß unit. Not quite close enough to be a maternal relationship--besides, they weren't that old!--maybe more like older sisters.

Lately, business as usual hadn't afforded Manx the time to talk with Weiß about anything other than work. But a certain easiness still remained between her and Balinese, which made it not altogether strange to share some of her life with him. Unlikely as she was to own up to it, she didn't like to see him depressed.

...And there was the fact that there was no one else with whom she could talk about Birman. And she liked to.

"You know one of Birman's specialties is disguise," she said. Youji nodded. "She would show up every day in a different costume--"

"--Nurse, waitress, schoolgirl, airline hostess, teacher?" Youji interjected.

Manx blinked. "Among others. How did you know?"

Youji hid a grin in his teacup. "Fetish outfits."

She reddened. "Shut up."

"I'll be good, I'll be good. Keep going."

Manx rested one cheek on her hand. "At first I thought she didn't realize quite the effect she had, at least on me. Then I thought she was flirting with one of our male instructors, which made me quite jealous. I found out later she thought I was in love with Persia and had been getting angry over that--"

"And then one day you got into a huge fight, thinking it was over a guy, and realized it actually wasn't?"

Manx snorted. "No, not quite. We went on our first mission after that had been going on about a year--three years into our Kritiker training. Birman--"

"--revealed her feelings under the influence of a danger-induced adrenaline rush!"

"I thought you were going to be good, Balinese," Manx laughed.

"Sorry."

"Actually..." Manx glanced to one side. "We never made it out of the base."

"Eh?"

"We were supposed to be taking down a prostitution ring. Methods completely up to us for the first time. Birman hadn't discussed it with me, but she was planning on infiltrating it from the inside, disguised as a prostitute. I caught her dressing for it, and, ah..." Youji was watching her intently, with no signs of interrupting. Manx cleared her throat, brushing some hair behind one ear. "I started a fight. The thought of her putting herself in such a situation, even if I knew she could protect herself, incensed me. She took it the wrong way, thought I was underestimating her, and it escalated. So, I..." Manx all-out flushed. "I kissed her. Not the most eloquent way I could have explained myself." Her cheeks darkened. "She hit me. She really wasn't very amused at the time. But she did change her plan for the mission. It took her about a week to forgive me, on condition of dinner... and... after that... I eventually got to spell out my feelings a little better. And win her over."

There was a small silence. Youji was wearing the mushiest expression Manx had ever seen on his face. "That's so romantic!" He laughed. "Aww, Manx, you're blushing."

The redhead coughed loudly. "I'm not. Anyway, that's the story."

Youji set down his half-empty teacup, tilting his chair back to gaze at the ceiling. He let out a gusty sigh. "It actually worked for Birman. Do you suppose I'm not putting enough effort into my wardrobe? Is that it?"

"If you put in any more, would you have time for Weiß?"

"That's cold," the assassin said halfheartedly.

"The problem is elsewhere, I think," Manx said, a pensive look on her face. Youji straightened, looked at her hopefully. Manx looked back at him, and the beginnings of an idea took shape. Abruptly, she stood up. "I have to be going."

"Ah." Youji's shoulders drooped.

Manx landed a hand on the table, startling the assassin. "Cheer up. This will work out, too."

"Uh?"

"Because I said so," she declared. She twirled and strode purposefully out of the kitchen. She leaned back in. "I'll let myself out. You, act like an adult and make yourself some actual food. I don't have time to see you through another hospital stay." She smiled, an expression that was all self-assurance and victory. "Jaa, sou iu koto de."

A moment later, the shutter door clattered up and down again. Youji slumped back over the table with a sigh. "She looks like Aya when she does that, too." He paused. "Wait. Didn't she come by with a mission?"

"Really, Ta-chan, I keep telling you not to be so reckless," Omi chided, wrapping up the bandage on the young boy's elbow. "Especially when the ground's frozen like this. What's your mother going to say when we send you home all scratched up?"

"Aww, Omi-niichan, it's not that bad. I'll be more careful, okay?"

"Okay, okay, get back in there, then." Omi watched the boy run back down the hill to the empty field they were using, catching a short scolding from Ken before being let back into the game. He smiled fondly. He didn't come out to watch as often as he'd like to, but he loved watching Ken with "his kids". Since they were on vacation now and the Koneko was temporarily running on shorter hours, Omi could leave the store's administrative work for nighttime and take the afternoons to watch Ken coach. Though there wasn't any snow at the moment, it was honestly a bit cold to be sitting still outside, but worth it.

"Good afternoon."

Omi turned, peering down the other side of the hill he sat on. "Manx! What brings you out here?"

The Kritiker agent joined him, smiling wryly. "Don't act so happy to see me, boya. You know it means work, don't you?"

The little blond smiled guilelessly. "It is our job. That doesn't make it any less good to see you."

Manx rolled her eyes. "Youji's rubbing off on you, I see."

"Maybe a little." Omi stood, brushing himself off. He glanced down at the game going on. "I think Ken-kun'll be about ten minutes more."

She nodded. "Fine. It's not urgent. Actually, this is a job we could probably pass to one of the regular Kritiker teams, but..."

"Hm~?" Omi's head tilted to one side, his expression curious.

"OI!" Ken's voice floated up towards them. "You guys keep going, alright? I'll be back in five minutes!" He jogged up to join Manx and Omi, flushed and just a bit out of breath. "Manx, yo!"

She nodded back.

He grinned. "I knew the vacation kick was too good to last. Got a job for us?"

"Only if you want it. I'd like your opinions on something."

"Ah? On what? Oh, thanks," Ken accepted the water bottle Omi handed him, taking a long swig.

"Balinese."

"Eh?" Omi blinked. "Why? Did something happen?"

"I just came from talking with him," Manx said, frowning. "I'm a little worried."

"Because he's all droopy and pathetic?" Ken said.

"Ken-kun."

"More or less. Here's the question: His chances with Abyssinian, what are they?"

"Pffff," Ken huffed, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching. "I sure thought they were pretty good on Sunday night. But now... shit."

"Aya-kun's been even quieter than usual the past few days," Omi said, frowning. "He hasn't been so rude to me or Ken-kun, but I don't think he's breathed a word to Youji-kun since that night."

"I see." Manx nodded. "And do you think that will continue? That he truly doesn't want anything to do with Balinese?"

Ken folded his arms. "He's a dumb bastard if he doesn't."

Omi shot Ken a reproving look. "I don't know. The one who really knows Aya-kun best is Youji-kun, and even he doesn't know that much. Since Aya-kun doesn't talk to Ken-kun or me, it's hard to tell if he's just embarrassed right now, so he's avoiding us all, or if he's really and truly angry."

"Ah." Manx mirrored Ken, folding her arms and frowning gravely at the ground.

"But what's this have to do with a mission?" Ken asked.

"It's just an idea. Not even quite a plan yet." Manx looked at the two Weiß members, a determined gleam in her azure eyes. "What would the two of you say to a little experiment?"

Monday morning, Aya had woken up to his brain trying to claw its way out of his skull. Then to his stomach splitting into factions and attempting to head north and south simultaneously. It'd taken him a full five minutes, lying tightly curled in his bed, wondering why his eyes didn't want to open and what had died in his mouth, to realize that he was hung over.

He was not happy about it.

A lifetime of not being stupid enough to drink to excess had come to a very unpleasant end, and there were three people to blame. Aya was not one of them, he confirmed as he hauled himself into the bathroom and allowed the first faction to evacuate. Even in this state he was rational enough to realize that no one had induced him to drink. But, he never would have if he hadn't been at that thrice be-damned party.

That was as far as the cycle of his thoughts would take him for the next hour. After emptying his stomach till he was certain he could keep down three aspirin, Aya brushed his teeth, showered, and brushed his teeth again. Then he wrapped himself in his bathrobe and crawled back into bed, clamping his pillow around his head with both arms.

The audible pounding of three different veins in his head kept him painfully awake. For the first ten minutes or so he tried to keep his mind blank, partially because he wanted to fall asleep and partially because thinking seemed to hurt. When that left him listening to the rhythm of his pulse in tri-phonic surround-sound, conscious thought began gradually to seem more appealing, to the general effect of...

Why do I remember sleeping with Youji last night?

...That's ridiculous.

And then...

What the hell did I do last night?

After the Scotch...

He could swear he remembered... Dancing with Youji. Youji kneeling, looking up at him almost reverently. Sinking himself into that perfect body, hearing Youji gasp out his name.

Aya's face twisted in confusion. None of that made any sense. None of it fit properly with what he knew of Youji--or with what he knew of himself, really. The arrogant womanizer Youji taking orders from Aya, giving him head? This was material dredged straight from Aya's most indulgent fantasies. Material that no one in their right mind would ever suspect him of having concocted.

But when he tried to remember what had really happened the night before, he couldn't find anything else.

When he woke up the second time, Aya's head was clearer. As he went about getting dressed he started to reconstruct the previous night. It had started in the basement of the Koneko no Sumu Ie, after hours. With a mission he never should have been stupid enough to accept--after all, when had one ever come through the other Weiß members? Manx or Birman were always present to give them the details, so why would he believe this?

Maybe because I didn't think I had any reason to mistrust my teammates, Aya thought, tasting bile.

So he had accepted the "mission." He'd chosen his attire from a batch of clothes Ken claimed were stock disguises supplied by Birman. Then Ken had driven them all to a hotel outside Tokyo. Youji had finally revealed that there was no mission, and Aya had gone upstairs to wait and discovered a case of Scotch.

That much he was sure of.

Afterwards... He'd seen Ken and Omi double-teaming Youji.

Aya's face heated. That had to be where the alcohol-induced hallucinations began. As clearly as he could recreate the rest of the night in his mind, it didn't make any sense after that point. Youji was straight, Aya wasn't stupid enough to reveal he wasn't, and Ken and Omi just had not walked in on him having sex.

Aya must have passed out drunk on the balcony, dreamt that Youji was such a good lay, and eventually been hauled home by Ken. He did more or less remember undressing himself and falling into bed while it was still pitch black outside. To what he owed the mercy of his teammates cutting their evening of carousing short, he didn't know. But more or less, that had to be what had happened.

Had Youji really fallen asleep on him in the car?

Aya paused. It was just as vivid as the rest of the 'memories' from the previous night. But that could easily have been the older man's having drunk too much. It didn't disprove his theory. Aya shook his head, brows drawing. The strange contentment curled up with that memory had to be due to the alcohol.

Nodding to himself, Aya headed for his door, intending to go down and raid the kitchen, since his stomach now was a howling void.

"Aaah, I can't take it! Ken-kun, why didn't you stop me?"

Aya stopped, hand poised over the knob, and listened. The voices were coming from the walkway not far from his door. By Ken's room.

"I toldja, Omi. You're supposta drink like a gallon o' water before bed if you get as sloshed as you did. If ya didn't always roll over an' fall asleep right after--"

"Sh-shut up! Ah--oww... C'mon, Ken-kun, let's not yell, it hurts."

Aya repressed a gleeful snicker. Good. At least he hadn't been the only one to wake up in pain. The brat deserved it. It was only too bad Ken didn't seem to be in similar shape. He sincerely hoped Youji was wrapped around a toilet downstairs.

"No one's yellin', you're just hung over." Ken sighed loudly. "C'mon downstairs, we'll fix a remedy. If Youji's awake, he prob'ly needs one, too."

"Okay," Omi answered mournfully, widening the smirk on Aya's face. "But, well... It was worth it, I guess."

Aya frowned, leaning closer to the door.

"Youji-kun finally got what he wanted!"

Aya froze, eyes going unnaturally wide.

Ken laughed. "Who'da thought all it'd take was a couple drinks?"

They had continued talking as they headed downstairs, but Aya didn't hear anything more. Stiffly, he walked back into the bathroom and picked up the heap of his discarded clothes from the night before. Dully, he acknowledged the state his pants were in--which more than confirmed what he'd been doing before he'd gotten them back on.

He dropped them as if they'd burned his hand, backed out into his room till he hit his bed and dropped heavily to sit on it. It was all true--every last thing he remembered from last night. He'd taken Youji. He'd let that playboy get closer to him than anyone had in years. He'd let his teammate see the inside of his fantasies. He'd given Youji his weakness. And Ken and Omi had seen.

Aya felt sick again, though there was nothing left for him to purge. Idiot, he cursed himself. They're all laughing at you. A few drinks, and the supposed leader of Weiß lost all control. They had made sport of him. Aya squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into his temples as his earlier migraine threatened a return. How in hell do I face them now?

_____________________

Aya didn't face them--till Tuesday, when the Koneko reopened for its first day on holiday hours. He was certain it was no mistake that his opening shift was with Youji.

"Aya! Good morning!" The brunet turned to him from the register, beaming an overly bright smile at him. "I didn't see you yester--"

Aya swept straight past him to get out the flower arrangements for display. That in itself was an act of will--holding his clenched fists down by his sides, then occupying his hands with other things, rather than punching that expression off Youji's face.

"A-Aya?" Youji followed; Aya could hear his footseps behind him. "What's wrong? I--" Aya turned and gave Youji the most venemous look in his arsenal. Youji trailed off, looking confused.

That's right, Aya thought, pretend you have no idea why I'm angry. Bastard. Aya pivoted and stalked to the opposite corner of the shop. You almost looked hurt. You're good, really. It was all he could do to keep his lips sealed against the stream of invectives flooding his mind. I honestly... did not expect something so low from you.

_____________________

Wednesday went similarly. Aya condescended to bite out one-word responses to questions from Omi or Ken when absolutely necessary. Otherwise he kept his mouth shut, face set in a scowl that could peel paint. The snarl he'd given Ken in answer to "what's got you in such a bad mood?" had apparently sufficed, because no one had spoken to him about anything but shifts and arrangements since Tuesday afternoon.

Youji, Aya continued to go above and beyond to slight. He was furious with Ken and Omi for their part in his humiliation, too embarrassed to even meet their eyes, knowing what they had seen. But the gnawing sense of betrayal he felt was completely Youji's fault. That was the real injury, and for it, Aya could not forgive him.

The way Youji acted, simply looking away every time Aya came into a room, quietly taking Aya's rudeness instead of blowing up and starting a fight, only confirmed his guilt.

_____________________

Thursday, Omi gave up and changed the schedule, giving the opening shift to Youji and Ken, closing to himself and Aya. The redhead did not, however, miss the chance to barb Youji at dinner. It was Youji's turn to cook, and Aya loudly declared his portion "inedible swill" before brusquely absenting himself.

_____________________

This brought them to Friday, when Manx appeared towards the end of Aya and Omi's shift, wearing an uncharacteristically worried expression. She glanced around distractedly in a transparent attempt to look like a patron as the two Weiß cleared the shop of customers and pulled down the shutters. Omi went to fetch Ken. Without bothering to bring them down into the mission room, she informed them:

"Balinese has gone missing."

This was the basic plan as laid out by Manx, Ken and Omi, later elaborated upon by Birman:

Their problem--and Aya's, too, if they were lucky--was uncertainty of Abyssinian's true feelings towards Balinese. What they needed, therefore, was an effective way to reveal those feelings. Manx proposed the classic scheme: Convince Abyssinian that Balinese was in danger, and gauge his reaction.

As she had said, there was a low-priority mission to be taken care of. Zenith, a small-time kidnapping-prostitution ring that had been hopping cities across Japan to avoid the police, had made its way to Tokyo. They were now operating out of a nightclub called the Lotus. Though Kritiker saw Zenith as a future threat, their information tagged it as currently unsuccessful, hence underfunded, understaffed and underprotected.

Manx had originally intended to offer the mission to Abyssinian, who was always willing to earn some extra money. It didn't really call for more than one Weiß member, and there were lower-level Kritiker who could handle it otherwise.

Omi had pointed out from the start that after their recent endeavour, Youji would never consent to another plot against Aya. That ruled out any cooperation from Balinese, so what they decided on was:

First, Balinese would be sent to the Lotus to investigate, under the pretext that his investigative skills were needed to supplement Kritiker's information before it would be safe for Weiß to go in.

His first stop, to appear natural and to eavesdrop, would surely be the bar. Birman would infiltrate as a bartender, and slip him a dose of sleeping powder, then get him off somewhere out of the way.

Meanwhile, the remaining three Weiß would be informed that Balinese had disappeared while investigating Zenith, and sent after him. The time it took to complete the real mission should be ample time to sound Abyssinian out. Two birds with one stone.

It was pure genius. Couldn't possibly fail.

"That idiot fouled up a reconnaissance mission?" Aya said.

Manx nodded gravely. "It would appear so. Security may have been tighter than we realized."

"I'm not interested," Aya said.

Manx blinked. "What?"

Aya folded his arms, glowering darkly at her. "He's a capable assassin, let him extricate himself."

"What about the pay?"

"Not high enough to bother."

Behind him, Omi grabbed Ken's arm before Ken could attack their teammate. Ken gestured furiously at Aya's back. Omi shook his head vigorously. "He can't mean that," the blond hissed. "Keep quiet a bit, Ken-kun!"

"Well," Manx cleared her throat. "If you're out, then..." She and Aya turned to the other two. "How about you?"

Omi and Ken exchanged glances. And Ken was inspired. "Ahh, I'm out, too." He shrugged. "Really, if Youji's gonna be s'damn careless, it serves him right."

Omi caught on quickly. "You're right. Youji-kun's been in such a fog lately. I guess Aya-kun's right, we should let him clean up his own mess." Aya looked sharply at him and Omi returned his most guileless look. "Otherwise he'll never shape up, right Aya-kun?"

Ken nodded, frowning. "He would go and get himself caught by a prostitution ring, too. Kinda picked the wrong place to learn the hard way, huh?" Aya's glance shifted to him and Ken shrugged again. "I'm with Aya, so Manx, I guess this's a pass."

"I see." Manx nodded. "Well, in that case I'll be going." She headed for the door.

"Wa--wait," Aya ground out.

Manx turned, an eyebrow cocked in question.

"If we don't go," Aya said, "Will you send someone else? Crashers?"

"No." Manx shook her head. "Once a situation has been classified as too dangerous for a Weiß, we can't send in lower-ranking agents. As you said, I suppose Balinese will have to fend for himself." She made to leave again.

"How much was it?" Aya demanded.

"Two hundred-thou--"

"Fine, I'll take it." Aya was already halfway up the stairs before Manx could answer.

Omi waited till his footsteps had faded, then turned to the others. "Does that count?"

Ken scowled. "Once I decide whether I wanna kill him or not, I'll tell you."

"Under the circumstances, that wasn't the worst response we could have gotten," Manx said.

"And we're not done yet," Omi added. "Ken-kun, we'd better go get ready."

"Yeah."

"Good luck," Manx murmured, as they disappeared upstairs.

Ken's voice floated back down. "Shit! You really gotta start wonderin' about Youji's taste in men, doncha?"

Ahhhh, the club scene! Time to smear on some glitter, swing my hips and get some attention!

Youji handed his leather jacket over to the woman by the door with a sigh, glancing away almost apologetically. Or at least that's what I would have been saying, if I'd gotten this mission a coupla weeks ago... His attire was shameful. Just shameful. No glitter, no make-up, no beads, no midriff, even. Leather, yes. There had to be leather--his pants, black and skin-tight. Low-cut, of course. Gloves and ankle-boots of the same. But his forest-green shirt actually passed his belt, and though it was tight and sleeveless, it was too conservative to be worn out! High-necked and laced down the front. That was it.

It was against his damn principles to show up at a club, however small, dressed like this. But... the mood he'd been in, he just couldn't stomach anything flashier. And now he'd gotten past the bouncer and the hostess without flirting. That was a bad sign.

Youji shook himself as he stepped into the Lotus proper, straightening up. He was here on a mission, not for fun. At least getting something constructive done would make him feel better about his week.

He forced his devil-may-care smile onto his face, and made his slow, winding way towards the bar. There wasn't a given profile for the criminals, so he was looking for potential victims instead. The strategy was to memorize as much of the crowd as he could--especially the prettiest loners--and keep an eye on them. See who went where, if anyone inexplicably disappeared, or if anyone else was doing exactly what Youji was.

By the time he reached the bar, Youji had about thirty candidates--luckily his detective training had strengthened an already sharp talent for memorizing faces. There were even a few people here from the New Year's party, though none that would have recognized him. There was that creepy redhead, too, but he didn't seem to have noticed Youji.

He took a stool near the middle of the bar, between two pretty boys who'd be worth keeping an eye on... He almost laughed at himself. Not for the same reasons he used to have--strictly reconnaissance. The barkeep was a cute little brunet, slender, big-eyed, effeminate. Youji sighed. They all come outta the woodwork once ya stop lookin', don't they? He signalled with one hand and flashed the boy a grin. "Double Scotch, neat."

The suited employee turned, in the process of shaking a Martini, and nodded, smiling back brilliantly. Youji hesitated. He looked familiar, somehow... He shrugged it off and turned to survey the dance floor while he waited for his drink.

The crowd in the Lotus was being painstakingly kept to just the right level--small enough that there was room to breathe, move on the dance floor, and find somewhat quieter corners if you wanted them, but large enough that the dancers could give themselves and their inhibitions up to the anonymity of the throng.

The patrons moved from the bar to the dance floor to the dim-lit, white leather-cushioned booths that lined the walls, in a vaguely circular flow. Absently, Youji took the drink set down on the counter and sipped as he continued to observe. His green eyes followed one of the women he had 'marked' to a booth, watched another come take a seat at the bar, one of the boys beside him migrate to the dance floor. So far, the people he'd chosen were all still accounted for.

So, the lay of the land, then. There was the main door, the cloakroom beside it. Off behind Youji and to his left were the bathrooms, and there was an emergency exit sign, though he couldn't see the door itself from here. In the corner furthest from him, a distance from where the booths stopped, there was a hallway.

Youji snorted to himself, took another sip of his Scotch. Please, these small-timers make it so damned easy. Maybe I should check the bathrooms for hidden passages, just for the sake of form...

Youji blinked and eyed his glass. Are they usin' the good stuff, or what? The drink was for show, he hadn't even swallowed a half-shot yet, but already he was beginning to feel a buzz. He set it down and leaned his chin on one hand, eyes sweeping the floor again. Manx had told him just to get an idea of the layout and manpower, then come home. That wouldn't take too long, the place was small, all he most likely had to do was scout down that hallway.

But... It's not like I have plans for tonight. Youji stood up, smiling to himself. A little gratuitous violence sounded like just what the doctor ordered, after a week of taking Aya's bitchiness. And frankly, if he finished off the mission right now, and stole Aya's share of the paycheck in the process, it'd serve the jerk right.

"Heh." Sounds like a plan, Youji thought, sliding into the crowd and making for the far corner.

"Hey, bartender! A little attention down at this end?"

The little brunet turned, smiling readily. "Coming! Sorry to make you wait--" He stopped, dark-blue eyes sweeping up and down the bar quickly, then again. "Excuse me, but... the customer who was sitting next to you...?"

"Think he went to dance. Yo, I wanna Marguerita."

The employee looked quickly towards the dance floor, eyes darting from patron to patron. The bartender winced. "Um, excuse me just a moment."

"What about my drink?"

"It's the end of my shift, someone else will take over shortly!"

At the far side of the club, Youji slipped unnoticed down the darkened corridor. He turned a corner, flattening himself against the wall. Choice of three doors.

A voice sounded faintly from behind the second. "Let go! Where are y--"

Youji smiled. Answers that question. Aaand here we go!

A hand landed on his shoulder as his own touched the doorknob. Oops. Youji turned, smiling apologetically. "Hey, man, nature calls, and I got here first." The guy, a full head taller than Youji and twice as wide, uniformed as a waiter, looked unamused. Ah, shit, he's not buying it.

Youji shrugged, pacing back quickly. His second step landed a bit oddly, but he ignored that, reaching for his left wrist.

Oh, shit. He'd put it in his pocket to come here. His jacket pocket. Which was now in the cloakroom.

The waiter advanced, raising both fists. Youji huffed in annoyance. Well, it wasn't as if he needed his weapon to take down a clod like this, it just would've been more convenient. He grinned. "Right, bring it on."

He sidestepped easily as the big lug charged him, landing an elbow hard to his left kidney. The man staggered, then turned with a backhand that Youji ducked, dropping onto one knee. "Too easy," Youji said smugly. He kicked out, sweeping one of the guy's legs out from under him before springing back to his feet to knock him flat with a good punch.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. He got back onto his feet all right, but immediately stumbled backwards, hitting the wall.

Wh-whassa matter with me?

Youji recovered. His opponent did the same and came at him. The placement of his weight meant he was going to strike with his left and--my head feels so light--all he had to do to block was--where are my legs?--step forward and--

He saw the attack coming. He moved as he was supposed to. His legs simply folded as he did. He wasn't even conscious when the other man's fist connected.

Manx checked her watch. Balinese should have passed out and been shuffled off somewhere out of the way by Birman around ten minutes ago. About now, Abyssinian and the others should be reaching the club, and--

Manx's cell phone vibrated. She flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Hanae..."

Manx shivered. It was Birman. Using her real name and that tone of voice meant trouble. "Kyoko. What happened?"

"We've got a bit of a problem."

Manx winced and waited.

"I got him the sedative, but... then I lost him."

"You... you're kidding," Manx said.

"Can't find him anywhere. What do we do?"

The redhead dug two fingers into her sinuses. "Ach... They've already left, with Siberian and Bombay thinking it's all a joke. Can you intercept?"

"Mmn... probably. But the plan?"

"If you can manage to alert only Bombay and Siberian, Abyssinian never has to know."

"Roger. Moving to intercept now. Bye."

Manx clicked the cell shut. "Damn."

"Youji. You. Are. A. Moron."

Aya slammed the door of his Porsche viciously, one hand tightening around his katana. Ken's motorcycle pulled in beside him, and he and Omi piled off. They were about a half a block from the Lotus, in an alley that connected through a series of pedestrian-only paths to one behind the club itself.

"Oi!" Ken growled. "Y'didn't have ta drive like a damned lunatic, we don't need the police on us, on top of everything."

"Let's just get this over with," Aya replied. "How are we going in, what are the schematics?"

"Uh..."

"We don't have them--that was what Youji-kun went in for."

Aya clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Never send an assassin to do a Kritiker's job. I thought we figured that out after the Riot incident." He started walking in the direction of the club.

Ken shot a look at Omi as they followed. Omi twitched. "You know, Aya-kun, he did used to be a detective."

"Which was how he got his partner killed and himself shot and drafted into Weiß, remember?"

"Tell me," Ken scowled. "Is it all spontaneous, or do you sit up at night thinking of ways to be an ass--aaow." He glared at Omi, who glared back after removing his elbow from Ken's stomach.

Aya didn't say anything. He was too busy roiling over the mixture of conflicting urges falling over themselves in his mind. First and foremost was just general rancour at everyone involved; Youji for getting himself caught and Ken and Omi for... semi-forcing Aya into taking the rescue mission. Next, himself for cracking and taking it. Then, himself again for feeling... just the slightest twinge of worry. Youji was a capable assassin. He could take care of himself, Aya was... mostly sure of that, so he shouldn't have felt anything. And finally... himself once more for suddenly, vividly remembering everything that had happened on Sunday. Especially some of the things Youji had said. Especially his sleeping face on the ride home.

Aya's face set in a determined scowl as the shadow of the Lotus fell over him. He flattened himself to the alley wall, running over the back of the club with his eyes. There were no doors on this side. One window, high up, and barred. He frowned, scanning again. His eyes lit on a dumpster half-obscuring a ground-level window, and there, almost completely under it the dumpster... Bingo. Basement doors.

"There's our entrance," Aya whispered.

There was no reply. Aya started and turned around. He was alone. He tensed, hand going to the hilt of his katana, and edged back the way he had come.

"...ruins everything!"

Aya froze at the sound of Ken's voice, around the corner from him.

"I'm sorry. I've botched the plan." The second voice was... Birman's?!

"Well... well, maybe not. Aya-kun won't know the difference, right?"

What...?!

"He was supposed to find Youji. I guess if we..."

Aya backed up, expression incredulous. No... it couldn't be.

"Ah, that should work!" Birman's voice again. "If Abyssinian--"

It is. Another false mission. Aya almost unsheathed his katana before wresting his right hand away from it. That even Manx and Birman could be involved in this... That they would all go this far to use his personal life to humiliate him...

Unforgiveable. Aya spun on his heel, dashed for the building and shoved aside the dumpster. He broke the lock on the basement doors with an expert strike from his sheathed katana. It's not going to go as you planned, Youji... I hope you're armed.

Aya heaved open one corrugated iron door and dropped onto the steep stairs beneath. He lowered the door soundlessly behind him.

"... Alright, I'll let you all in through the back," Birman finished. "Let's go."

The three of them ducked back around the corner. The alley was empty. "Uhm?"

"Aya-kun...?"

The two guards Aya met, he knocked out. He couldn't be positive just who they were using for their little charade, and if he seriously wounded Kritiker agents, there would be trouble.

Kritiker agents...? Aya tasted bile. Not that far... they wouldn't go that far.

His short search of the basement took him through two empty rooms and past a staircase that led up. He could hear voices at the top and chose to ignore them for the moment. Around a bend, the floor dead-ended with one final door. Though unguarded, it was the first locked one he'd come across. Checking around for observers and finding none, Aya pressed his ear to the door. He heard nothing. He reached inside the cuff of his left coatsleeve and pulled out a lockpick. It didn't take thirty seconds to spring the lock.

The door swung open.

Aya's eyes narrowed to slits of pure rage.

What in all hell... His jaw tightened. To this point? This is what you bastards think of me?

Rage was a dangerous, uncontrollable wave for him. He knew that, and he could feel it coming. Aya stepped into the room, closed the door behind him. It had a deadbolt. He threw it.

He sheathed his katana and stood with his back to the door, feet apart. He tried to steady his breathing. He was not going to let this anger carry him off. After all, just who was worse? Him for being... turned on by the scene his teammates had constructed? Or the fact that they were warped enough to conceive it? The hand clenched around his scabbard was beginning to hurt. Slowly, he loosened his grip and tried to calm his breathing, relax his jaw.

Youji was in the far corner of this small, run-down room. Suspended by his wrists from a large pipe near the ceiling, he hung nearly upright, his knees just touching the floor. He was blindfolded.

Aya swallowed, then again, as his mouth flooded with saliva. God. Damn. It. Youji played the victim awfully well, didn't he? Perfectly quiet, beautiful with his head bowed and the blindfold marking him as helpless. Aya noted the straining muscles in his updrawn arms with a note of approval for the knots binding Youji's crossed wrists. Oh, yes, he had an eye for this. A very practiced, very skilled eye. But how had they known?!

"I should kill you," Aya growled out. Youji remained silent. Aya's fingers around his katana twitched. He strode across the room to glower down at the kneeling figure. "Or better yet leave you here for some janitor to find... it would serve you right."

The sheathed blade clattered to the floor and Aya grabbed Youji's collar, yanking him up towards him. "Enough!" he snarled, and Youji finally jerked to attention, turning his face towards Aya. "This stupid game is over," Aya said, releasing Youji roughly. He reached for the rope, face flaming... only half with anger. He had to get his face back under control before he pulled away the blindfold. If Youji ever saw just how much...

How much...

Aya stopped, his fingers over the first knot. In the ensuing silence, Youji searched sightlessly from side to side. Aya swallowed again. His mounting rage at being so well set-up was feeding a certain reckless, stupid urge. His hands fell from the rope. Then slowly, he drew off one of his gloves. "Then again," he said quietly. "You've gone through so much trouble to construct this little scene." He reached for Youji's cheek with his bare hand and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. A tight, malicious sneer twisted Aya's mouth. "The least I can do is play it out, hm?"

Aya knelt, taking Youji's face in both hands. He ran his gloved thumb over Youji's lips and Youji jerked again, but Aya held him firm. "But if you think you've got me figured out, Youji, you're wrong. You're not going to want to gossip with Ken and Omi about what I do to you..."

The first thing Youji registered was a loud thudding noise. Or at least it sounded as though it should be loud, at a distance. Unsure quite whether he was asleep or awake, he felt as though he were floating in very still, deep water; pressure on all sides, and every outward sensation muffled. His ears were buzzing. His arms hurt. His stomach hurt. His temple was throbbing something awful. He felt stiff and he ached all over. He couldn't quite orient himself or make any sense of the position he seemed to be in, so he kept still and tried hard to listen as he waited for his body to finish waking up.

Youji didn't hear anything more for a moment or two. He started to piece together his location. I was passed out... I was... um... this morning I worked in the shop, and... uhm...

A rough hand grabbed his collar, jerking him up, almost off his knees--Ow. Okay, there are my legs... I must've been here a while--and forward, tugging against something binding his hands. I'm tied up... Youji frowned, eyebrows drawing behind the blindfold--Oh, that's what that nasty scratchy feeling is--and catching a breath as he remembered how his mouth worked. Shit, where the hell am I? I must be on assignment, but what hit me?

He sagged as he was released again, swallowing quickly to try and get his ears to work. Past the vague throbbing of his head and the buzzing that veiled his hearing, he could make out a voice, but no words, not even much of the tone. Damn it... damn it... He tried experimentally to shift, but nothing below his shoulders seemed capable of more than a twitch. Why can't I move?! What's wrong with me?

He gasped as a hand lifted his face, then tried to move away as another, gloved, brushed his lips. A thrill of fear ripped through him as he felt the heat of another body close to his. Who...?

His face was tilted up, lips pressed to his throat.

Youji shuddered violently. Mission. Zenith. The prostitution ring. Oh... fuck...

He tried to say, "Let go!!" but nothing more than a sharp breath passed his lips. My voice... Damnit... damnit, where are my fingers... I've gotta get out of here...!!

He met nothing but a violent pins-and-needles sensation when he tried to move his hands. Everything below his neck seemed made of lead, impossible to lift. Oh shit, ohshitohshit... What the hell did they do to me? What am I gonna do?? He took a deep, shaky breath as those hands slid down over his chest. Don't panic--no, stop!--don't panic!

He felt the other person rise, then his legs behind him were pushed apart, and a pair of knees settled between them. Hands reached around his waist to pull him back against another body.

No...

Warm breath spilled over the nape of his neck, then the touch of lips, tongue, teeth. Youji shivered, tried to get away, but all he could do was shake his head. No... no, no... His heart was racing in his chest, breath coming fast and shaky. Still, he couldn't seem to get his vocal cords to obey him.

He tried to ignore the hand stroking circles around his nipple through his shirt. He bit his tongue as another lifted the hem of his shirt and slid painfully over a bruise he didn't remember getting.

Hang on, Youji, hang on, don't freak out. Someone must be looking for me by now... It's gotta have been long enough that they'll come... Please...

He was finally beginning to feel his fingers properly... he thought he could move his shoulders... The buzzing in his ears had stopped, but in its place there didn't seem to be much of anything. He could hear the other's heavy breaths near his ear.

Let me go!!! What the hell... just kill me!

Youji found the ability to yank against his bonds, felt himself sway slightly. I'm awake, you filthy pervert, and I'm damn well gonna kill you once I... get outta...

That second hand slipped under his waistband, plunging straight down into his underwear to grasp his cock and testicles.

Youji's eyes opened wide behind the blindfold. The rest of him awoke with a violent start and he opened his mouth to yell.

"--ya--"

Aya blinked, pausing at the faint, bare croak of a noise Youji had made. Then Youji began feebly to writhe in his arms.

"Aya!" Youji rasped, his voice gaining strength but cracking, "AYA!"

Startled, Aya loosed his grip on Youji, and his hands fell away as Youji began to shake more violently.

"I'm here! Aya!!" Frozen, Aya's eyes widened as Youji slumped in his bonds, his head bowing in defeat. "God damnit... Where are you guys...?"

Aya stumbled in his haste to get up and Youji started at the movement. Aya dropped to his knees again in front of Youji and stared. Where he'd pushed Youji's shirt up, the edge of a bruise was now visible. Automatically, he reached to pull it up further, revealing a cluster of livid purple streaks across Youji's abdomen. He let the fabric fall. What the hell...?!

Aya reached up and quickly undid the blindfold, yanking it away.

Youji turned his face away, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Youji!" Aya said.

Youji started, his eyebrows going up. Slowly, his eyes opened halfway. He blinked several times. "Aya?!" His face collapsed into pained confusion. "What..." he looked distractedly around the room, taking it in quickly and trying vainly to see over his shoulder. "When did you... How..."

"What the hell is going on?!" Aya demanded.

"That's my line!" Youji practically screamed as comprehension dawned. "That was you!! What... what the fuck were you thinking?!"

Aya was looking in horrified disbelief at Youji's now uncovered left temple, where another bruise was painted in stark crimson just under the skin.

"Aya?? Answer me, you bastard! What the fuck were you playing at?!"

I've made a mistake, Aya realized, violet eyes darting between that bruise and the near-hysterical, panicky confusion on Youji's face. He had the sudden urge to vomit. I don't understand... Ken, Omi and Birman... "You weren't... involved in this," he said slowly.

"What? What??" Breathing heavily, Youji finally met Aya's gaze and held it.

They wouldn't have actually hurt him... I don't believe it. But then--? "I'm going to kill someone very soon," Aya gritted. "Who depends on your answer--" He held up a hand, glaring, as Youji opened his mouth, looking angry enough to spit. "So tell me precisely what happened to you."

"I was investigating Zenith at the club. I went into the back to see if I could find the kidnappees, and I think I did, but then this huge guy came and knocked me out. Then I woke up here, with you doing... doing--hey. What're you--" Aya had risen, grabbing his discarded katana. "Oi! Don't--" Youji cringed as Aya's hand flew to the katana's hilt, his eyes sharpening. There was a flash. Then Youji's bound hands fell into his lap. He doubled over with a harsh groan as the blood rushed back into his arms. Aya sheathed his blade with a snick.

"Let's go." Aya grabbed Youji under one arm and hoisted him to his feet--which did not support him. He glared as Youji half-crumpled back to the concrete floor.

"Legs're asleep," Youji grimaced. He cast a hard look at his wrists. "Cut my hands loose and just wait a minute..."

"We're not waiting," Aya growled. He dragged Youji upright again, slinging his bound arms around his neck and grabbing him about the waist with his left arm. Youji managed to help somewhat as he was pulled to the door. Aya threw back the bolt and flung the door open. Sheath clenched in the fist over Youji's abdomen, Aya drew his katana and stepped into the corridor.

"All clear!" Ken yelled, shaking blood from the steel claws of his bugnuks. "Two guys, no hostages! Your end? Oi, Omi!"

"Over this way! I found them, but, uh..."

Ken hurried down the corridor and around the corner where Omi's voice was coming from. He pulled up short at the half-dozen carcasses strewn around his teammate. "Whoah, fast work. Nice job, Omi."

Omi shook his head. "Uh-uh. They were dead when I got here. I'm pretty sure the kidnappees are in this room here," he pointed at the door across from him. "But I haven't run into anyone conscious at all."

"Ya think Aya went through?"

Omi frowned. "I guess so, but why didn't he release them?"

"Hnn..." Ken's brows drew. "Weird. And did you find Youji?"

"Nope."

The two assassins looked at each other.

Ken shivered. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Aya disappeared outside. You think he heard what we were talkin' about?"

"No way," Omi said, but he'd gone a shade paler. "But it wasn't Youji's fault, so even if he did, Aya shouldn't be mad at him, right?"

"We dunno just what he heard," Ken said gravely. "Or if he just figured it out himself. But... well, whatever the case, we need to finish off the mission. So--"

They paused as footfalls approached and Birman rounded the corner carrying a coat over her arm. "I took care of things upstairs," she said. "The bar should be emptied in a minute or two."

"Took care?" Omi repeated.

"I pulled the fire alarm, but I cut the wire that would alert the fire department. So you can make as much noise as you like, and search where you need to."

"Actually, we're done, but..."

"Aya and Youji are AWOL," Ken said. "We've searched the whole basement between us and it looks like Aya went through but he's gone. Unless they tossed Youji in there with the hostages, no trace of either of 'em."

Birman frowned. "I found Balinese's coat in the cloakroom, and otherwise we've left no evidence. If we can safely assume that Balinese and Abyssinian have left, then the mission can end." She tossed the coat to Ken and nodded. "You two can return home, I will attend to the kidnappees. If Balinese is inside, I'll send him back, but I doubt even such inexperienced criminals would throw a spy in exactly where he wanted to be."

"I suppose..." Omi said, sounding apprehensive.

"Go," Birman said, nodding towards the exit as she pulled a gun out of her waistband. "I don't want you revealing your faces to civilians in such a trivial case. We'll debrief tomorrow."

Ken sighed and patted Omi on the shoulder as he turned to obey. "Yeah, alright. C'mon, Omi."

Youji thudded into the passenger seat of Aya's Porsche, glaring at the redhead who'd practically flung him in. Aya slammed the door after him and slid into the driver's seat a moment later. "Hey--" Youji began. Aya didn't seem to hear; he started the car without looking at his teammate.

There was a screech of abused tires as Aya pulled out, made the kind of turn they warn you against in Drivers' Ed, and took off down the road, breaking the speed limit for several cars at once.

Unconsciously, Youji shifted towards the door. He reached for the seatbelt with his still-bound hands and managed to pull it down across himself. The damn thing wouldn't buckle, though. With his wrists crossed, it made his fingers cramp up painfully just to hold it. He flinched as Aya reached over and shoved the tab into the buckle. Aya, still without looking at him, replaced his hand on the steering wheel and burned off another inch or so of his tires on a turn that made Youji grateful for the seatbelt.

"Shit, Aya, what're you tryin' to do?!"

"Be quiet," Aya said, glowering out the windshield.

Youji subsided, quashing several acidic comments about reckless driving, being an asshole, and Aya's questionable lineage. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the ache in his back, shoulders and arms from hanging in that room for however long it'd been. He couldn't relax fully with his hands still tied as they were in front of him, but Aya's expression was... several degrees more forbidding than usual.

Finally, Youji cleared his throat. "Um... Aya?" He held up his hands. "Are you gonna...?"

Aya's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond.

"Ah, god damn it, Aya! If you're still mad at me, handle it like an adult and just... I don't know, kill me or something! But I am... not..." he started squirming in his seat, straining uselessly against the seatbelt and the rope about his wrists. "In the mood for this! I just got the shit kicked out of me while unconscious, strung up in a dirty back room, and got one hell of a fucked up wake-up call from you! Not to mention I probably have a brain tumor or something, passing out like that... What?"

Aya was staring at him, a strange expression in place. "You really have no idea what happened, do you?"

Youji frowned back. "I went on a mission and got my ass kicked."

Aya regarded him a moment longer, then turned back to the road. "I'm going to ask you this once."

"Look, Aya--" Youji growled.

The redhead cut him off, tone even. "I want you to sit there. And I want you to stay very quiet." His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as the speedometer edged even further up. Youji noticed with a twinge of alarm that the redhead was speaking through clenched teeth. "And if you're lucky, by the time we get back, I'll have forgotten what I'm thinking now."

Youji's mouth went dry. There's a retort I'm supposed to make right about now. I don't hafta take this shit... Youji looked hard at Aya's profile, noting the muscle bunched at his jaw, and corded over his arms.

Swallowing hard, he told the cramps knotting his own arms to shut up, and tried to sink into his seat. Hell, at this speed, the ride can't last too much longer...

_____________________

"Wake up."

Youji hadn't realized his eyes were closed till he opened them, feeling dazed and groggy. There was a brief moment of light and then darkness again as the driver's side door opened and closed. Youji blinked rapidly, then was blinded again as his own door was pulled open.

"You can walk, now."

Youji was drawing breath to answer when Aya flipped his seatbelt open and hauled him up and out of the car by his shirt front. The blood rushed straight to his feet and he staggered. He heard the car door slam and was once again sightless, too quickly to have gained his bearings. He reached out with his hands and met nothing, then stumbled to follow his teammate by sound and his own mental map of the garage.

Aya didn't speak as they mounted the many stairs to their apartments. He sped upwards at one of those impossible to follow paces where if you walk, you'll be left behind and if you run, you'll bump into the person in front of you, so Youji slammed into him when Aya stopped on the second floor landing. Youji gritted his teeth and held his ground, letting Aya do the stepping back. The redhead eyed him coolly. Then he turned and started up the next flight towards his own room.

"Hey--" Youji started.

Aya looked back over his shoulder, violet eyes boring into Youji's. The silence expanded around their staring contest for a long, tense moment.

"Come." Aya said.

Youji blinked. Aya held his eyes for a moment longer before continuing up the stairs.

The decision was made before Youji realized there was a quandary. He was following Aya again. They reached the third floor.

Oi...

Aya pushed his door open.

Wait a minute.

Youji was blinking in the darkness of Aya's apartment, listening to the click of the door behind him when the appropriate thought hit. Shit. I'm an idiot again.

Obeying that first command was all the choice Youji got. Aya grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, seized his face and kissed him. Youji's body stiffened against him as he did. Aya threw an arm around Youji's waist and held him in a vice-like grip. His other hand wound into Youji's hair, holding him painfully in place as he took his mouth roughly and thoroughly. He bit, he kissed to bruise, his tongue did not caress, it stabbed.

Aya was furious. Not all his rage was for Youji, but Youji was the catalyst... and the only one there to provide an object for his anger.

Youji gasped as Aya released him, already breathing hard.

"Back," Aya ordered. Not giving him a chance to obey, Aya shoved him further into the room with both hands. Youji stumbled in his effort to comply; when his calves hit the foot of Aya's bed, he sat down heavily on the edge. "Further," Aya said, landing a knee on the mattress between Youji's legs as Youji quickly squirmed back out of the way.

Aya grabbed Youji's bound hands, hoisted them over Youji's head and bore down, pinning them to the mattress behind him. Youji bit down on a startled noise as he hit the mattress. His green eyes were large and wary as they rose to Aya's face. He opened his mouth, then stopped, simply watching Aya for a cue.

Aya reached to cup Youji's cheek with his free hand, now ungloved. He ran his thumb over the swell of Youji's lower lip. It trembled, but Youji's gaze did not falter.

Aya's hand went to his fly, unbuttoning and unzipping. He shoved his pants down marginally. His erection in hand, he rose higher on his knees. He almost forgot the all-important question. "Youji, do you consent?"

Youji stared searchingly up at him, then his eyes squeezed shut. "Yes."

Good.

Aya could feel Youji's arms quaking as he tightened his one-handed grip on the brunet's wrists. He didn't care.

Aya moved up over Youji, angling his hips down till the head of his cock rested against Youji's lips. They were already moist, and parted immediately as Aya fed Youji the entirety of his length. Aya's eyes slitted, a hiss of pleasure escaping him as he rested momentarily, buried in Youji's mouth. Then Youji's tongue began to move, stroking his erection, and Aya pulled back, braced his other hand against the mattress and thrust in again more quickly. Then again, faster.

Youji's hands under Aya's flexed and shivered, but his jaw went slack and his tongue and throat relaxed.

Very good.

Aya growled and thrust harder, deeper. Youji took him in. The wet slide over Youji's tongue, the close, pulsing heat of his mouth and throat were perfect. Aya knew Youji's skill with his tongue, but it wasn't what he wanted. Pliant submission was all he needed at the moment, and all that mattered. Youji present only to be restrained and violated--that was all.

Aya gave a shuddery groan, a shiver rippling down his back. His hips snapped forward and his release shot forth in a wave.

He pulled back quickly, releasing Youji's arms. Tucking himself back into his pants, he got out from over Youji and sat on the edge of the bed, watching the other man as his own breathing returned to normal.

Youji swallowed audibly, then turned his head to the side and coughed quietly twice. He remained still for a moment, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

At length, he sat up, raising hesitant eyes to Aya's. "Feel better?"

Aya lifted an eyebrow. Youji was right, though, he realized. The anger and tension that had been thrumming through him for the last couple hours had dulled considerably. He gave Youji a slight nod. However, the man was here now, on his bed. His lips, deep red from their rough treatment, parted as Youji took each panting breath. His hair framed his face in a dishevelled halo of curls. His face was flushed, and a large bulge strained against his leather pants. Aya had a whole new set of problems, now.

"I misunderstood," Aya said. "I misread the situation tonight, and treated you unfairly. For that, I'm sorry." Youji's eyes widened. Aya's own expression didn't change. "I doubt I am ever going to apologize to you again."

Youji gave him a small, uneasy smile. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"

"It's the only way it can be."

There was a quaver in the breath Youji took. "I see."

Aya looked curiously at him. "What did you expect to happen on Monday?"

Youji blinked. "I thought I'd see you, for one." He paused. "And when I caught you Tuesday, I thought you'd be a little happier to see me."

"You thought," Aya repeated, and Youji looked angrily at his lap, flushing. "No, look up," Aya said, reaching to lift his chin with two fingers. He realized, at Youji's startled look, that it was the same gesture he'd made that Sunday night at the party. "You thought there would be more," Aya said.

Youji swallowed. "I wanted there to be. I didn't realize--"

"Several things," Aya finished for him. "And just now? After I shunned you all week? Why did you come upstairs?"

"You told me to."

Aya inhaled sharply. He withdrew his hand and broke eye contact. "How's your head?"

"Aside the dent in it, fine."

Aya nodded. If he guessed right, it was Ken, Birman or Manx who had drugged Youji. Useless meddlers, the lot of them. But in that case he didn't need to worry about after-effects. "Otherwise?"

"Nothing serious."

"So you say. Stand up."

There was again a momentary hesitation before Youji rose. He held his wrists slightly away from him, as if unsure what to do with them. "Put your hands behind your head," Aya said. "Go on."

Looking uneasy, Youji raised his hands partway, then clenched his jaw and complied. "Aya..."

"Be quiet."

Youji opened his mouth, then shut it again. He turned his face away, an angry flush spreading over his cheeks. With one hand Aya reached for the double bow of ribbon lacing Youji's shirt front, and slowly pulled it loose. I must be mad, he thought idly, hooking his index through the first cross of ribbon and pulling it slowly free of the fabric. To let him come near me a second time. A flap of Youji's shirt fell open as Aya pulled away the second and third tiers. He knew how that skin felt... soft and hot over tight, sculpted muscle. He didn't touch him now. Just continued to pull the ribbon away, loop after loop, till the shirt fell open. He let the ribbon coil to the floor.

The bruising across Youji's abdomen was extensive--there was more than he'd seen at the Lotus. Aya frowned, leaning to each side to see the extent. Luckily, the beating Youji had taken hadn't gone as high as his ribs or as far around as his kidneys. The damage was, as he'd said, nothing serious. But I left a trail of bodies through that place once I realized it was real. The anger he'd borne Youji all this week had been deflected by the sight of him hurt. He'd worked off some of it on the guards. He'd spent most of the rest of it on Youji himself. The tension building in him now was a mixture of anticipation and dread of the situation in which he'd landed himself.

"I'm not sure what to do with you," Aya said, taking a step closer. They were only a little further apart now than they had been when they'd danced. So close he could feel Youji's body heat. "You have no reason to obey me. What more do you want?"

"I..."

"Go ahead."

"I want to be with you." Youji's flush darkened, and his brows drew in annoyance as he spoke at the wall. "Not just for a night or two, but long-term."

"I'm all yours," Youji had said that night. He'd wanted to mean it.

Aya leaned closer, till he was speaking against Youji's throat. "You're being a fool. You don't know what you're asking."

Youji's breath quickened. "I'm beginning to get an idea."

"You're not made for it," Aya said. He could almost taste the flesh just under his lips.

"Aya, give me a chance."

Aya drew back a fraction. "Look at me. Why should I?" he demanded, lips just barely shy of touching Youji's.

"Can I--Aya, kiss me."

Aya did. Youji made a small sound as their lips touched, his mouth opening readily to Aya's urging. Another soft moan vibrated between them as Aya's tongue speared into Youji's mouth. Youji met him with soft suction, stroking the underside of Aya's tongue with his own.

Aya was breathing more heavily when he pulled back, still holding Youji's lower lip lightly between his teeth. What the hell. He reached for Youji's face with both hands and drew that full lip into his mouth, sucking and rolling. He moved to bite gently at the side of Youji's mouth, then turned his head and plunged into the depths again, possessed suddenly by the need to taste, touch, take every minutest part of Youji. The little noises of pleasure and supplication that Youji made only aggravated it; Aya's right hand slipped into Youji's hair, the thumb of his left inscribing tiny caressing circles on his cheekbone.

A stream of words left Youji's lips as soon as he released them, "Aya, Aya give me a chance, just one, I--"

"Shh," Aya said, keeping his eyes tight shut, licking at Youji's throat.

Youji continued to speak straight over him. "I can make it worthwhile, Aya--"

"Hush..."

"I'll be so good for you, you'll see, I--"

"Quiet, quiet," Aya said, going to suck at the juncture of Youji's neck and shoulder. His hands travelled down, one over Youji's back to his waist, the other over his chest, stroking at the hard swell of one pectoral, thumbing the peak of one erect nipple.

"Nnh.... Aya..."

Reluctantly, Aya pushed Youji back. Aya's face and fingertips felt flushed, and he was hard again just standing there fully clothed.

"You'd have a lot to learn," he said quietly. If he can, Aya thought, at once chilled and flushed by the idea, He could be exquisite.

"I'll do whatever you say, Aya."

Aya caught his breath, felt his heartbeat pick up. He looked up into Youji's face with his eyelids at half-mast. "What makes you trust that would be safe?"

"I don't," Youji said. Aya's eyebrows rose. "After tonight, to be honest, you scare me." Youji wet his lips, swallowed. "But that's my risk to take."

"You're right," Aya said. He considered only a fraction of a second longer. "Give me your hands." Youji did. Aya pulled a small knife from a sheath in the side of his boot, deftly severed the cord and resheathed the knife. He unravelled the rope, let it fall to the floor, pulled off Youji's gloves and dropped those, too. Youji gave a low hiss at the return of circulation to his hands. With slow, expert movements Aya was already massaging his upturned wrists and palms, easing their revival. When he stopped, Youji stood looking uneasily at his hands as he flexed his fingers. After a moment, seeming satisfied, Youji looked up.

Aya said, "Undress. Then lie down," and stepped back.

Youji complied. He moved stiffly as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders and pulled his arms out. He laid the shirt aside and unfastened his pants. He pushed them down with a slowness that looked to be due to pain--there was none of the playfulness this time that he'd shown at the party. He slipped off his underwear and stepped out of both. Naked, he stood looking uncertain for a moment; crossing his arms over his chest, he stroked his arms. He sat slowly on Aya's bed, then stretched out on his back. He lay with his legs just a few inches apart. He seemed unsure what to do with his arms, and eventually lay them by his sides. His face turned to the side, hair masking it.

Aya toed off his boots and went to his closet. From the back he pulled out a deep, black lacquered wooden box and lifted the lid. He hadn't used any of the contents in years, but everything was still in perfect order and dustless thanks to the seal. He pulled out two long cotton scarves and tugged them taught, reminding himself of the feel of them. He ran his hands quickly over some of the other items in the box, intending to calm himself with something old and familiar, but instead the idea of using each on Youji inflamed him. Aya chose a jar of lubricant and shut the box.

Youji lay as Aya had left him, his breathing self-consciously shallow. Aya set down what he'd gathered on the night stand and glanced at Youji who was watching him with a combination of apprehension and lust in his eyes. Aya's fingers twitched, wanting to touch the smooth line of Youji's side where it contrasted against his dark sheets. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his second glove, pulled it back on. He saw Youji shiver and knew he'd made the right decision. For the moment, for tonight, it was best Aya remain as distanced as possible, while Youji demonstrated just how far he could open up and submit.

Aya chose one of the scarves. "Raise your hands over your head."

Youji's hands shook visibly as he complied.

Aya bent over him and met his wide green eyes. "You won't lose your hands--I'm better at this than your captors."

"Do I wanna know why?"

"Not now." Aya wound the scarf in two figure eights around Youji's wrists, coiled the ends around the middle, then secured them around one post of his headboard. The knots and the binding were firm; Youji could not escape even if he wished to, but his circulation would be unimpeded.

Youji wiggled slightly, trying to get comfortable with his bonds. His nervousness showed, but even so his movements were sinuous and graceful--he looked made for bondage. Aya licked his lips, took a breath. Taking the second scarf in hand, he slid onto the bed, spreading Youji's legs to kneel between them.

Youji's eyes met his. "Aya, what are you gonna do with that?"

"Blindfold you," Aya said. The image of Youji in the club was deliciously vivid in his mind.

"Please don't. I..."

"This is what I want."

Youji swallowed. "It was awful being blind back there. I'd... never been blindfolded before. It scares me, Aya..."

Aya made an effort to keep his breathing even while every word of Youji's soft-spoken plea brought his arousal to a keener peak. "Youji," he said quietly.

Youji bit his lip. He closed his eyes.

"Very good," Aya said. He lay the folded scarf gently over Youji's eyes; Youji lifted his head to let him tie it. Aya leaned back to inspect his handiwork. Youji's chestnut hair spread in ripples behind his head; the rest of him was starkly white against the dark blue sheets. He was a marble sculpture branded by those two bands of black... and the bruising that streaked his abdomen and the side of his face. Aya scowled. There wasn't anyone left to punish for Youji's injuries. All he could do was show a little mercy towards the victim. A little.

Youji whimpered as Aya's leather-sheathed fingers stroked his cheek and leaned his face into Aya's palm. Aya stroked Youji's lower lip with his thumb to work it free of his teeth, then lowered his head to kiss him. He meant to kiss him slowly, but Youji's mouth was ravenous--as if he were drowning and Aya was air. Aya indulged him for a few moments, pressing his body down against Youji's, then drew back. Propped up on his arms over Youji, Aya watched him. Youji's chest rose and fell quickly. A second later he was biting his lip again--Aya could see his brow was furrowed behind the blindfold.

Aya waited. Partly to steady himself, partly to torture Youji. He waited until he could hear the edge of desperation in the breaths the other man took. Youji moaned when Aya finally touched him, running his right hand from Youji's throat down over his chest to run down his side. He rested his hand at Youji's thigh and lowered himself so that his hips pressed down over Youji's. Youji's body arched up to meet him. "Don't rush," Aya said mildly. He splayed his other hand over Youji's right pectoral, began to circle the nipple with his thumb.

Youji let out a strangled groan and Aya pushed him firmly down as he tried to rise into the touch, without changing what he was doing. His right hand slid down over Youji's inner thigh. He thumbed the juncture between thigh and groin, the thin skin just shy of the balls.

"Nnnh!" Youji threw his head back, his lower lip disappeared into his mouth as he bit down to control himself. "Hnnnh...!"

"You don't like the blindfold?" Aya asked.

"Nnh. No..."

"Mmm." Aya dug his thumb into Youji's inner thigh as he bent to bite at Youji's other nipple.

Youji writhed and whined deep in his throat.

"You're hard as a rock," Aya said. "You love it."

Youji moaned and shook his head. "I hate it, I hate it..." But Aya felt Youji's cock jump and spasm even through his pants.

Aya's mouth twitched. The gloves were definitely the right choice. For all that he knew how good that tender skin would feel against his own bare hands, the leather barrier drew the necessary line between top and bottom; it gave him the distance he needed to play this out slowly, while rendering Youji even more vulnerable. If Aya were feeling Youji's shivers and shudders directly, he might not have been able to resist the urge to hoist the man's knees over his shoulders and fuck him senseless. As it was he was tempted to use Youji's mouth again while telling him that was the only lube he'd get--see how well he'd put that tongue to use for self-preservation.

All in good time, Aya told himself. He'd made his choice.

He left off teasing Youji's nipple and knelt up between his legs, reached for and opened the jar of lube. He scooped out a dollop of the gel on two gloved fingers and set the jar aside. With his other hand he lifted Youji's right knee and tilted forward, lifting Youji's ass almost off the mattress. "Maybe you'll like this more."

Aya spread the lube around the exposed ring of Youji's anus, then pressed one finger inside. Youji gasped and without preamble Aya pushed in the second. Aya spread the lube quickly, gave a cursory stretch, then pulled his fingers halfway out and pushed back in with three.

"Hngh... Aya!" Youji grated through clenched teeth.

Pulling Youji's leg further, Aya bent over him. "You like this?" he asked, withdrawing his figners, pushing them home again. Youji's insides clenched around them, seemed to try to pull his hand further in. Aya obliged, picking up the pace until he was fucking Youji in earnest, ramming into him with his fingers as urgently as if he were using his cock, drinking in Youji's cries of agonized pleasure.

"How's it feel, Youji?" Aya demanded.

"I..." Youji rasped. "Nh! Ah... good... Aya, fuck. Th-the gloves... oh, god...!"

"Good?" Aya grinned wolfishly. "You like it so much you wanna come, just like this?"

"Ahn! Yes!" Youji cried. "I--I mean, no... I..."

Aya moved his fingers faster, putting his arm behind the thrusts. The thought of fisting Youji hit him and he nearly lost control. He didn't have time for those preparations, but the thought nearly made Aya come right then. No, tonight he needed to move far more quickly.

"You wanna come now?" Aya asked again ruthlessly. "Or do you want my cock in you? You want it, don't you, Youji? Or is this enough? Is it all you can take, or do you want me? Deep inside you, fucking you harder than you've ever been fucked, claiming you, making you truly mine?"

The tendons stood out on Youji's arms as his back arched. "Sh-shit--Aya!" His cock jerked and his orgasm spattered all over his abdomen. He gasped and panted as Aya continued to finger-fuck him while his cock jerked through its last few spurts.

Aya slid his fingers out of Youji, peeled the glove off and threw it aside. He rolled off the bed, trying to keep his own breathing quiet, although with Youji's ragged breaths filling the air, he needn't have bothered. Aya unzipped, pulled out the erection that by now was getting painful. He stroked himself pensively, eyelids falling to half-mast, and watched Youji recover. The brunet's slender chest gradually stopped heaving and he became unnaturally still, breathing quietly as if afraid to be heard. Aya wanted to be inside Youji now so badly his strategy was fast evaporating, but he managed to let the silence stretch.

"Aya?" Youji whispered.

Aya was silent, thumb massaging the head of his cock just enough to give him marginal relief from a raging hard-on.

"Aya... don't leave me alone like this. Please." Youji shifted, tugging at his bonds. "Aya, I'm sorry, I couldn't control myself." He swallowed. "Don't... give up on me... give me another chance? Aya... It's too much like how they left me in that club, please..."

Aya waited.

Youji chewed his bottom lip. Aya had never seen him make such a nervous gesture before tonight. The humble supplicant tied to his bed was worlds removed from the arrogant man Aya had come to know.

"You ignored me all week, Aya," Youji said in a tight voice. "I haven't felt so bad in years--so down on myself. Aya, I just want you to want me... to touch me... Please don't act like I don't exist."

Aya snorted. "Attention whore."

Youji smiled in obvious relief. "You knew that before."

Aya went to the side of the bed and stroked Youji's hair. "And you want me to believe it's only mine that matters."

Youji pushed his head into Aya's hand. "The rest of the world could forget me completely--think I'm invisible. If you want me, I won't care."

Aya relented, slid onto the bed--he was taking mercy on himself just as much as on Youji. "You have my attention," he said. He lifted Youji's right leg with his left arm and guided his cock to Youji's entrance. "The question will be whether you can handle it."

Youji let out a long moan as Aya pushed into him. as Aya seated himself inside, he hissed through his teeth, violet eyes slitting in intense pleasure. Youji arched his back, gave a few jerks of his hips, trying for friction, but Aya stayed stock still, just enjoying being buried inside his captive. His fingers dug into Youji's thighs, grounding himself--he knew he couldn't last long, but he wanted to savour this as long as possible.

Sweat gleamed on Youji's skin. His flushed lips hung wantonly open as his heaving breaths shifted his sculpted torso and the strained muscles of his arms. Aya's fingers dug in to the point where he would surely leave marks. He gave the barest roll of his hips, just shifting himself within Youji. Youji gave a sighing gasp and the thigh muscles under Aya's fingers tensed; the slick canal sheathing Aya's cock tightened.

Aya groaned. So fucking good. He gave another roll, just a bit more generous, just a bit more friction.

Youji moaned and tried to shift his legs, but Aya held them firmly in place. Youji bit down on a whimper, then shivered and twitched as he tried to keep still when Aya rocked his hips again.

Gradually, Aya withdrew further before he pushed in again, but did so painfully slowly. He had to do it like this, tightly controlled, or else he'd lose himself to the impulse to simply ravage Youji. Aya felt like he couldn't be in Youji enough--not deep enough, or in as many ways--he wanted to have him in his arms as he fucked him, his fingers in Youji's mouth; to be at the same time restraining his wrists, biting his nipples, spreading his legs. He wanted to flip Youji over, take him from behind; to come in Youji's mouth as he knelt... too much, and he wanted it all at once. Ownership of another man was not a simple thing--it could be as difficult if not more so than giving oneself up. Youji was offering and Aya wanted to accept so badly it hurt, but if he lost his reservations now it would be dangerous to both of them.

"Aya," Youji whispered, voice hoarse and intimate. His tone alone made Aya's erection jerk inside him. "Aya..." Youji had been so thoroughly stretched already that this slow penetration was obviously painless, and Youji's cock was rock hard again, pulsing and crimson against his semen-glazed stomach.

"Shh," Aya hissed. He closed his eyes--the picture Youji made was too good, threatened to fracture Aya's control. But even with his eyes closed, the picture remained burned into them. Mine, he thought, almost growling it aloud. No. Not yet. He pressed his lips briefly to Youji's updrawn knee and felt the muscles contract around him. Aya shuddered. "Youji," he growled. "You want to belong to me?"

Youji's whole body began to shiver. "Yes," he gasped. "Aya...!"

"Nnnh. You want to be my possession? My toy?"

Youji threw his head back, turning his face from side to side. "Yes... yes!"

Aya's eyes rolled up and his teeth bared in a snarl. Youji's body was going mad around and beneath him, muscles clenching and spasming in paroxysms of pleasure and pain. Aya himself was trembling with the effort of restraint. "Then you'll obey me," he hissed.

"Yes."

"In everything."

"Yes."

"Then Youji, come." Aya ran one hand along Youji's cock, caressing him from base to tip. That was all it took. Uttering an almost startled cry, Youji came. As he did, the clench of his ass brought Aya over the edge of control. Pulling Youji's legs with him, he surged over the prone man, thrusting deep one last time and shooting his release as deep into Youji as possible.

They froze in that position, Youji bent nearly double, knees near his face, Aya poised over him like an awkward red bird of prey somehow suspended before the kill. They remained there, panting, until the edge to Youji's breath began to sound too much like real pain. It snapped Aya out of his trance. He eased Youji's hips and legs back to the mattress. He slid out of him with a shiver of post-orgasmic sensation and leaned up to free Youji's hands. Youji groaned as blood rushed back into them and Aya massaged his palms, fingers, arms.

Aya rolled onto his side and Youji curled into him, nestling like a child. Aya almost forgot the blindfold until the fabric rubbed up against his chest. Tilting Youji's head up towards him, he untied the cloth strip and tossed it away.

Youji's eyes opened gradually and he blinked twice before fixing a forest-green gaze on Aya. "How was I?" he husked.

Aya gathered Youji to his chest, hugged him fiercely. The best I've had, he thought with a tremor of apprehension. He gritted out, "Good. Damn good, Youji."

Youji closed his eyes and let out a breathy sigh. "Fuck, Aya... you had me scared shitless. I've never come so hard."

Aya's lips curved in a smirk and his arms around Youji's torso tightened. "Huh. The first time or the second?"

Youji laughed and pushed closer, pressing his forehead against Aya's collarbone. "The second time. The first time I was more surprised than anything. Not--!" he hastened to add, "that it wasn't good! Shit, I've never been finger-fucked before. I thought that only worked on girls."

Aya restrained a growl. He ran a hand through Youji's hair, the gesture too rough to be called a caress. There's a lot I could teach you, he thought, already envisioning some choice examples. Aya pressed a kiss to the top of Youji's head and let his eyes fall shut. He was exhausted, suddenly. "Shut up," he said.

"Nn," Youji agreed. He kissed Aya's throat and was silent.

Aya held Youji close with his nose buried in the brunet's hair. They both needed to wash before they bedded down for the night, but for the moment he couldn't bring himself to move.

An hour later, freshly showered and fragrant with soap, Aya and Youji were once again curled up together in his bed, the soiled comforter twisted on the floor. Aya was in his pajamas--black undershirt and baggy cotton bottoms. His pants were too short for Youji, so Youji wore just a borrowed pair of boxers and one of Aya's old t-shirts.

"Aya," Youji began softly. He was hard again--his erection pressed up against Aya's thigh.

Aya opened one annoyed eye. "Idiot. I don't feel like showering twice."

Aya slipped under the covers, took Youji in his mouth. He brought him off quickly while the older man gripped his hair, swallowed, meticulously lapped up all traces of semen before tucking Youji back into his boxers.

"Now shut up," he said when he reemerged. There was an answering spike of arousal in his own groin, but he ignored it, favouring sleep.

They were both drifting off when there was a knock at the door. Aya glanced at his bedside clock; it was nearly four. "You get it," he growled.

Sleepily slow but obedient, Youji rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the door.

"Balinese," came Manx's voice from the other side of the door Youji had cracked open. "You appear to be alive."

"Better than that," Youji replied in a tone of open happiness. He sounded too sweet to be a man, much less a killer. "I messed up, but Aya found me, so I was okay."

"Thank god," Manx mumbled. "I'm... sorry, Balinese."

"What for?" Youji asked

Aya lifted an eyebrow. He had already been convinced of Youji's innocence in that night's SNAFU, but this confirmed it.

"Ah..." Manx faltered.

"Say, Manx?" Youji yawned. "Are Ken and Omi safe?"

"Yes--"

"Mm, then, could you brief me tomorrow on whatever else happened? I'm tired."

Manx gave a low laugh that set a scowl on Aya's face. "Alright, Balinese. Good night." Her heels clicked away and the door shut.

Aya lifted the sheets and Youji slid under them into his arms. "Good night, Aya," he whispered.

Aya grunted in response, resettling himself. He was too tired to summon much menace, so his smile over the top of Youji's head only looked content. The next few days, weeks, months, were going to be gruelling, but he was looking forward to them. Youji, completely unconscious in his arms, had no idea what he'd let himself in for.

--Utopian Trunks
Nov. 6, 2004

Note: This was started an age ago. Couldn't tell you exactly when anymore, but at least a couple years. From the beginning of the lemon in Aya's room on, it was finished in October-November 2004. I'm sure that fascinates you. ;p

The title hails from Track 2 of the "soundtrack" of part one.

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