Why Kids Shouldn't Talk to Grown-Ups About Sex
Notes: Anou~ ne, I guess I'll start out with it... yurushite onegai! This is... very silly, probably offensive, and if the person who inspired it ever finds out I wrote this, I'm as good as killed in my sleep, so SHHH! ^_~ Other 'n that, I'm assuming you already read the ratings and warnings on the main page, so... enjoy! ;P
"Irassha--Ah, Omi!" Youji smiled brightly over the arrangement of catteleyas he was preparing. "Okaeri!"
"Tadaima," Omi returned, his smile equally sunny as the door of the Koneko swung shut behind him.
"You're back earlier than I expected." The older assassin busied himself again snipping errant leaves. "You were at Nao-kun's house, right?"
"Uh-huh." The boy grabbed his apron, fastening it around his waist and going to check the register. It was late afternoon on a Sunday, so customers were sparse enough that no one needed to stay behind the counter.
"Did you have fun?"
"Un..." Omi agreed slowly, then added more cheerfully, "Yukio-kun and Hideo-kun were there, too."
Youji smiled to himself. He'd met those three before, classmates of Omi's. They'd dropped by the shop, and Omi's apartment, a few times before, though when the youngest Weiß had time off, he visited them more often than he invited them over. They were all sixteen, within a couple months of each other. Nagano Nao was taller than Omi, darker-skinned, with a luxurious mane of black curls and rich autumn-crimson eyes set in a sharp-featured, extremely pretty face. Kitabayashi Yukio and Hideo were identical twins, about Omi's height, round, cute features like two little dolls, straight brown hair cropped under their ears, huge green eyes like cats. Youji wondered if it was weird that all the best looking boys in one class were friends. He sure couldn't remember anyone who compared with him back when he was in school. The brunet shook his head wisely. Well, that was the way of things. It must have something to do with... inflation?
The ding of a timer interrupted his musings from the direction of the kitchenette. "Ah, I put on some coffee..." he looked at Omi and held up his shears in appeal. "Could you...?"
"Gotcha," Omi disappeared into the next room and returned a moment later with a steaming cup.
"Ahhhhh," Youji inhaled gratefully as he accepted it. "Doumo." He glanced at his friend over the rim as he took his first sip. "Did you want some? There's plenty in the pot."
The blond made a face. "Bleah. That stuff stunts your growth."
Youji snorted. "Ah, c'mon. Don't they teach you anything in school? Anything that tastes this bad has to be good for you!"
Omi giggled. "If you don't like it, what do you drink it for?"
"If it weren't for massive daily infusions of caffeine, you'd never see me about in sunlight." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned. "And that'd be a shame, considering how good it makes my hair look."
"Sou desshou, ne," Omi laughed, turning to pull out a basket of miniature roses from the refrigerated display.
Youji set down a half-finished cup and the two worked for a while in companionable silence.
"Ne, Youji-kun...?"
"Mm-hmm?" the brunet replied around the stem of a spare flower, his hands busy with another bouquet.
"I was just kinda wondering..."
"Mmm?"
"I mean, for kids our age--um, my age--well, uh..."
Youji glared at the ivy that had somehow managed to tangle his wrists together and not get anywhere near where it was supposed to decorate the orchids he was arranging. He munched lightly on the stem between his lips, not really giving the conversation his full attention. "Mm?"
"It's normal for us to, well... uh... that is... "
Without bothering to disengage his hands, Youji got the orchid out of his mouth, set it down and lifted his coffee-mug again. What the hell, no one was looking, right? "Yeah?" he prompted helpfully, glancing at Omi.
The boy twisted the trailing ends of his apron strings nervously between his fingers. "Um, well... it's normal to... uh... watchpornandmasturbate, right?" he finished in a rush, flushing as he did.
Youji managed to spit his coffee as far as the planter a foot away.
"WHAT?!?!"
Omi turned a deeper shade of scarlet. "A-anou... the truth is..."
Youji simply gaped at the boy in front of him, now anxiously wringing the front of his apron between two slender, tapered-fingered hands. What else have those hands been doing?! Youji thought vehemently, then quickly banished the thought, forcing himself to breathe. What is it they always say about talking to kids...? Remember, Youji...! Aha! A surge of triumph. 'Don't be quick to judge or they won't open up to you,' that was it.
"Of--of course it's normal..." Youji managed to choke out, though how convincingly was uncertain.
Omi let out a huge sigh of relief, regaining some of his original colour. "Yokatta." He pouted adorably. "But Youji-kun, you... you kinda looked..."
The ex-detective waved a hand dismissively before his face, as much to fan himself as to dispel the boy's worries. "You just... surprised me, is all," he prided himself in managing a fairly even tone on that one. Now what was the next thing you were supposed to remember...? Um... 'Take advantage of their trust and find out everything!!' No, wait, that can't have been it... "So, um... you been doing this for long?"
"Well..." Omi inclined his head demurely, looking up at him through thick, sandy-coloured lashes. "About a year, I guess. Together, anyway."
"To...gether?"
"Un. At one of their houses, usually."
"You mean... that's what you... do when you get together?" Damn those pretty little classmates of his! Corrupting our Omi...!
"Not only!" Omi clarified hastily. "But almost always at least sometime during the visit."
"Oh," Youji replied, fiddling with the ivy still clinging to him to furnish some appearance of casualness while his mind raced furiously around in circles.
It shouldn't be amazing. After all, Omi was... my god, he was sixteen... So Omi was a sixteen-year-old boy. Naturally he would be...
But it was Omi.
Omi who was cute and little and innocent and smiled at the customers and said "Arigatou gozaimashita!" the way that got middle-aged women to turn around and buy something else they'd forgotten. He was wholeseome and adorable and not sexual at all.
And he was masturbating.
In a group.
With three other extremely cute, extremely horny sixteen-year-old boys.
Oh. My. God.
"Well, see..." Omi also began to tend to his arrangement, pulling out several strands of miniature rose buds. "Before we would just watch stuff. You know, we were curious, and all..."
Youji eyed him surreptitiously. Despite his outward hesitance, it seemed the boy was actually pretty eager to talk about this. Yare-yare. It was his duty as... almost sort of Omi's parental figure to get to the bottom of this. "OK," he prompted. A thought struck him. "But you guys are underage. Where'd you get it from?"
"Yukio-kun found his father's stash of videos."
Ah-HAH! Youji fumed vindictively. Stupid, negligent Kitabayashi-san! How could you be so careless as to leave that out where your son could--?!
"And then I found a really good one in the VCR downstairs..."
Youji's mental tirade cut short, emerald eyes widening behind jade sunglasses. So that was where his uncut copy of Ai no Kusabi had gone.
Stupid, stupid, negligent Youji!! How COULD you be so careless?! How COULD you?! ...And for god's sake, in the mission room...?!
The eldest Weiß swallowed hard. "Oh, I see. And then?"
Omi didn't seem to have noticed his friend's reaction. "Well, for a couple months we just kinda watched 'em on the sly when we got together. Then..." he slowed, smiling a bit abashedly. "One time we were watching and, well... Nao-kun just... sorta... pulled it out." He made a vague gesture in the air with one hand and Youji prayed fervently that his gestures wouldn't get any more specific. At least the blond boy had the decency to blush.
"Ahhhh-ha." Youji nodded. He thought back furiously to middle and high school. Surely he hadn't done anything like that...? Well, masturbated, sure. But in a group? There was something... uh... He didn't know, it just seemed a lot... well... bigger than doing it by yourself. I mean, come on, there were explicit yaoi doujinshi that consisted of very little more than that! "So, um... after that, you guys all..."
"Uh-huh," Omi nodded. The bouquet before him had already taken shape and was actively shaming the sorry concoction Youji was massacring at his end of the shop.
A silence fell. It's time for the parental-type reassurance, Youji realized, with imminent dread. He coughed. "Well, Omi," did his voice sound as weird to his teammate as it did to him?! He shrugged eloquently. "Kids at your age are always experimenting. It's only natural." Hoo! What cheesy sitcom did I steal that from?
"Yeah..." Omi poked halfheartedly at his arrangement for a few seconds. Then, "So, can I talk to you about it a bit?"
The older assassin looked at him apprehensively. The boy's big, blue eyes fixed on him earnestly, practically doing a shoujo-manga sparkle. This kid was watching...?!
"Sure," Youji sighed. "Fire away."
Twenty minutes later, Youji knew everything about not only Omi's "technique", but that of Nao-kun, Yukio-kun and Hideo-kun, too. Further, much to his own dismay, he was getting rather involved in what Omi, with the charactaristic innocence that only he could maintain on such a topic, was telling him. Unwillingly--no, really--his mind's eye had conjured a dark room lit only by a flickering TV screen, in front of which four teens sat, their legs apart, delicate, quivering members exposed, stroking themselves, barely supressing their moans, young bodies trembling, their ragged breathing echoing through the--
"--And they always make fun of me 'cause I take too long. Ne, Youji-kun, I thought it was supposed to be good to have... uh... whatcha call it?"
"Stamina," Youji croaked, feeling his face burn, hoping he wouldn't set off the smoke alarm, because it damn well felt like he oughta be.
"Yeah, that's it. It's better not to come right away, right? Or else you don't satisfy your partner, right? Youji-kun?"
Youji nodded, keeping his face turned away, staring fixedly at a pot of begonias. Omi would last, then... Imagine... He saw the slender body under his, erection trapped between them, throbbing, his blond hair spread out on the pillow like a halo behind him. His face, beautifully flushed, pouty lips begging for release that was not... quite... AAAAAAAAAGGGH!!!! Youji, what are you THINKING?! About OMI?! How dare you?!
"Ha! I told them! You know, and Nao-kun comes really fast, so he doesn't have any stamina." The little assassin giggled smugly. He became thoughtful then. "You know, though, although he's so fast, he can get it up like... five or six times in a row. So, maybe that's..."
Youji twitched. It was perfect for an uke. His mental picture shifted. Nao-kun, naked on hands and knees, perfect skin dripping with sweat. Over him, chin digging into his shoulder, Omi, cherubic face pursed in concentration, thrusting into his friend as his hands, wrapped around the narrow waist brought the dark-haired boy to climax after climax, spurting his release all over the narrow chest...
NOOOOOO!! He grabbed the nearest long-stemmed rose and clamped his left hand shut over the thorns, welcoming even such a painful distraction. For the love of god, Omi, aren't you done talking yet? Don't you have homework or something...?!
Omi laughed. "And you know, the twins..." Oh GOD, twins... not twins... Two young, lithe bodies, superficially the same, and yet one, surely, was dominant and aggressive, the other weakly submissive... They fell on each other beside Omi and Nao, one took the other face up, their pale skin flushed with passion...
"It's a jailbait orgy!" Youji practically sobbed, dashing for the back room at top speed.
"Yo--Youji-kun?" Omi blinked in surprise as the older flower-man blurred past him and thundered down the spiral staircase to the meeting room a second later. He followed quickly, a worried expression creasing his smooth features. "Daijoubu ka, Youji-kun?" He called down the stairwell.
"Daijoubu, Omi," Youji's voice floated up. "Don't come down!" as the first step creaked.
Omi hastily stepped back up to the first floor. "But..."
"I'm... uh... not feeling too well. I think I'll just lay down for a bit."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it's nothing much. Didn't sleep too well last night, that's all. Heh."
Omi frowned, tilting his head to one side. "Well, if you're sure... It's only ten minutes to closing time, so I'll go ahead and shut down. It doesn't look like anyone's coming, anyway. Ne, thanks for talking with me, Youji-kun, I really appreciate it!" His voice exuded sunshine.
"No problem," came the weak response.
Omi's footsteps receded and a few minutes later Youji heard the metallic cascade of the shutters being drawn. The lanky brunet whimpered from his position sprawled face-down on the couch and stuffed his head under a cushion.
Damn classmates, damn errant porn tapes, damn twins...
Why did he have to be someone Omi could trust to confide in? Why did he have to hear such--
Oh, god he was aroused...
And not even the chance of a date till next week.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to spare the insistent erection pushing up against the front of his jeans. Damn. Should've gone upstairs instead of down, gotten a cold shower... But he could hardly risk going back up now, lest Omi be there, and want to talk to him again...
Youji whimpered again. His mind had been... well, relatively clean beforehand, and now he had all these shota-kon phantasms chasing themselves around his head. It was too much, too m--
"OOOOIIIIII!! Where is everybody?! You weren't supposed to close shop till I got back!"
"Ken!" Youji exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Oi, down here!"
Siberian appeared a moment later, raising his hand in casual greeting. "Yo. Whatcha doin' in the basement?"
"Hiding from Omi," Youji said, throwing his arms around the shorter assassin's neck as he reached the bottom step. "Thank goodness you finally showed up."
"Huh?" Ken commented eloquently as the tall, lean body pressed to his own. Well, he wasn't going to complain. His own, muscular arms wound round the slender waist, his mouth opening to the older man's kiss. "Shit," he grinned as full lips parted briefly from his own. "What's got you so hot and bothered?"
"I just had to listen to Omi go on about masturbation with his little jailbait friends for half an hour," Youji whined, ducking his head to lick at Ken's neck, one knee raising slightly against the shorter man's leg.
The brown-eyed man chuckled, sliding his hands down to knead his teammate's rear. "Why you little shota-kon hentai."
"Shut up, Ken-ken," Youji growled, flexing his hips against him impatiently. "Come on--"
A crash from upstairs interrupted him. Both assassins blinked.
The sound repeated, and it became obvious someone was beating on the shutter-door of the shop. "Who--?" Youji began petulantly.
"Ken-niichan! You there? Ke~n!"
"Ah~!" Ken gulped, warding Youji's hand away from his belt-buckle. "I forgot, I promised--" Green eyes glared daggers at him. "I, uh... promised the kids I'd coach 'em today..."
"Just pretend you're not here," the detective ordered in warning tones. His fingers hooked into the top of Ken's jeans, pulling him closer.
"Well, it's just that," Ken protested uneasily. "They've got an important game tomorrow, in the little league, and..."
"But, Ken--"
"Sorry, I really gotta go."
Youji bit his lip, his eyes turning desperate. "Aw, c'mon Ken," he pleaded. "Just... just five minutes?"
The other laughed, squirming free. "Youji, nothing with you is ever 'just five minutes'."
"Well, true, but--" he flailed as Ken managed to pry himself away and started back up the stairs. "Ken, you can't just leave me like this!!"
"Look, it won't take that long," Ken opened his arms in a conciliatory gesture. "Later, tonight!"
"You abandon me now and you think I'll see you tonight?!"
"Hey, I know you're crazy about me, Kudou." The soccer-player winked and disappeared upstairs. The shutter slid up and down again, announcing his departure.
"Kuso!!" Youji almost wailed, flopping down cross-legged on the carpeted floor. He really was going to cry in a minute if he didn't get relief somehow. The brunet was just starting to seriously consider tracking down Omi and demanding the return of his Ai no Kusabi tape when the spiral stairs creaked again.
A leaf-green gaze lifted expectantly. A pair of battered sneakers appeared first, then a faded pair of jeans, followed by an orange sweater and finally a pale face framed in flame-red hair.
Youji was on his feet again in a second, emerald eyes glinting hungrily in the semi-darkness of the basement. "You'll do," he purred.
One fine crimson brow lifted. "Do what?" the baritone queried.
"Me, I hope," the slender assassin drawled, toying sultrily with one corner of his crop-top shirt, his other hand playing over the bared stretch of his abdomen.
Amethyst eyes gleamed back at him, instantly predatory. The Weiß leader took a step forward, but maintained his distance. "Won't Ken have something to say about that?"
"Ken passed me over for a pack of soccer-brats," Youji said, eyes lighting up as Aya began to move very slowly in a circle around him, radius starting at about a metre and gradually waning. "So if he has anything to say, I'm not listening."
The corner of Aya's mouth flicked up, his pace remaining steady. "Not much good with rejection, are you?"
"With a face and a body like this?" The chestnut-haired assassin kept himself still as his leader passed behind him, stretching not-so-subtly to show off all his assets to full advantage.
"I have to give you that," Aya said, emerging on his other side, considerably closer than before.
Anticipation danced across Youji's skin as their eyes met again. "Stop stalking me and pounce, dammit!"
"If you insist."
The long-limbed assassin was on his back among the couch-cushions before he could gasp out another breath, his red-haired friend's full weight straddling his hips and pinning him down. Not that he was trying to get up, mind.
One graceful hand reached up and tangled in crimson tresses, pulling the face above him down for a kiss. He moaned as their lips meshed, drawing Aya's tongue into his mouth, twining his own around it. His other hand reached up under Aya's sweater and the t-shirt beneath, stroking its way over rock-hard abs to the sleekly muscled chest. Aya groaned as practiced fingers found his nipple, arching slightly toward the touch. His hand in turn went to push the thin, white cotton excuse for a shirt Youji was wearing up under his arms. Their lips parted and the redhead bent to return the attention Youji was giving him with his mouth.
Balinese's head lolled back, eyes closed. "Ahh..." His back arched shamelessly to Aya's ministrations, the hand tangled in his partner's hair gliding down to play over his cheek, encouraging.
Abyssinian tilted his head into the caress, then frowned suddenly. He drew back a little, ignoring his friend's noise of protest, and took hold of the brunet's wrist. Violet eyes widened slightly at the various wounds blemishing the skin there. "What did you do to your hand?"
Youji rolled his eyes. "Close encounter with a rose. No biggie."
"That's not like you," Aya murmured, kissing his palm softly, then laving each puncture thoroughly with his tongue. "You shouldn't have left it."
"I'll wrap it later," Youji sighed, reaching with his free hand to unbuckle Aya's belt. The redhead released his other to kiss him again, their mouths meeting more urgently this time.
"You're impatient tonight."
The belt was undone and both the brunet's hands slipped inside the battered jeans, slender fingers wrapping around an already demanding erection, wringing a growl from the younger assassin.
"My little chat with Omi was foreplay enough for ten men of stronger moral fibre," Youji muttered. Aya laughed, fingers already busy unbuttoning and sliding down his partner's jeans.
"Kid's dangerous," he agreed, rising to his knees to let Youji pull down his pants. He lifted the taller assassin into his lap, erection pressed against his rear.
"Whatcha mean?" Youji gasped as a smooth-skinned hand trailed its way up his inner thigh and stroked lightly along his length. He fell back against the shorter man, head on his shoulder, trying not to squirm with anticipation. "God, Aya, now."
Soft lips curved against his neck. "I don't have anything..."
"Ohhh, I don't care." He pushed back against him. "Wait, I remembered... Check the drawer in the side-table..."
Aya reached over and rummaged around, coming back with a round, blue plastic jar. He raised an eyebrow. "Cold cream?"
"I'm not sure whose it is. Hey, it's better than nothing, right?"
Aya shrugged, unscrewed the lid, scooped out a small amount with index and middle finger and reached down...
Youji caught his wrist. "I told you," he growled. "Enough foreplay."
That one, red eyebrow raised a little higher. "If you insist," he repeated.
"I do."
The redhead shrugged again, took a healthy amount from the jar and coated himself, shuddering at the stark contrast in temperature. Youji was already up on his knees, propped over Aya's lap by one arm planted behind him. Abyssinian took the narrow waist with both hands and guided Youji carefully down till he was poised over his tip.
Taking a deep breath, Youji let himself all the way down, wrenching a throttled groan from both assassins. Not breaking pace for a moment, the dark-haired man lifted himself halfway up and thrust back again, drawing his partner into a rhythm.
Aya's arms slid round the slender form as he recovered enough from the initial dizziness to thrust back and pick up the pace. One pale hand traced a path up the heaving chest to circle teasingly around a flushed nipple, his other just brushing the tender skin of inner thigh.
"You remember that time in the flower shed a while back?" Aya asked.
"Huhh?" Youji murmured, trying to pry his conscious mind out of the lust-filled haze in which it was swathed. He bit his lip as one tapered finger dragged slowly up his erection, stopping to scratch the nail lightly around the tip. A memory of a couple months before surfaced from the fog, drawing a lazy smile across his sweat-sheened face. "Mmmnnhh... yeah...?"
Aya's teeth grazed his throat, tongue playing along the skin before he sucked gently. "To answer your earlier question... Omi had just asked me to explain male-male sex."
Youji began to laugh. "Maa! I guess I can't complain, if this--" He moaned loudly as Aya shifted inside him, hitting something that made every nerve ending in his body jump. "--is the result," he finished breathily, turning to capture the redhead's lips over his shoulder, devouring his mouth. "Aya, hurry, please..."
Graceful fingers curved around his erection, forming a delicious friction each time he rocked forward. He draped himself back over Aya, letting the other man take over. The redhead's other hand returned to his hip, drawing him back hard against him, seating himself fully inside him with every thrust.
"God, Aya...!"
The sudden rush of warmth within him drove him over the edge, coming very vocally in his partner's hand.
Aya drew out and eased them backwards, Youji lying on his chest. "Feeling better?"
The brunet pulled his hand up to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. "Mmmhmm..."
The Weiß leader nibbled thoughtfully on his ear. "I may just have to steal you from Ken."
Youji turned over to face him, emerald eyes slitted and sparkling in feline glee. "That might be interesting..."
Aya grinned back. "So are you up for another round?"
"Always."
The younger assassin smiled as he drew his oak-haired partner into his arms again. He snorted. "And most parents get upset that their children don't talk to them about sex."
--Utopian Trunks, Dec. 29th, 2000
Aya Tells Omi About the Bees and the Bees Talya Firedancer's prequel! ^_^ If you were wondering just what happened in the flower shed two months ago... *grin*
The Voltage is 220 A LEMON illustration! ^_^
The Kid's Dangerous Already read the prequel? Take a bathroom break and sit down to the sequel!
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