Bear with me for this one, there will be explanations and elaborations of a sort at the bottom of the chapter! Grr, I’m frickin’s SICK of people sending me stupid junk mail! I don’t want longer erectinos because I don’t have a F*^&%ing penis, I’m not interested in seeing Brittany Spears being fingered by an older fan, and I certainly don’t want any frickin’ Diet pills!

It was time to rectify a mistake made long ago. Ken steeled himself as he crossed the pavement towards the battered entrance of JavaJava Jehova’s Coffee Shop, hand wanting to curl away from the slightly sticky, scratched door handle. A thousand year’s worth of germy, greasy palms certainly did leave a patina of texture unrivaled by any other form of weathering.

The run down physical appearance and lack of sanitation were more than made up for by the beverage named in sparking red neon letters across the roof. More clandestine meetings with his lady-love would be the initial assumption, but he was doing the right thing this time around. Omi’s near escape from death had brushed away the last of the cobwebs covering his common sense, put things back in their proper perspective.

“Ken!” Kakaria, beaming her thousand watt teeth his way, waved him over, drawing looks both appreciative and jealous their way. She was one in a million, but not the one for him.

“Don’t be so quick to greet me. You certainly won’t be happy with me when I’m through.” Ken sat down after ordering a chocolate blend, sipping the scalding liquid so he wouldn’t have find something casual to occupy his hands.

“Something wrong?” Serious when she needed to be, dark eyes just somber enough to make Ken feel guilty.

“There’s someone very important to me,” a halting start as he tried to vocalize thing he couldn’t even untangle inside his head. “I can’t do this, I can’t do us. I’m sorry.” His face wanted to give in to the tightness at his chest, to betray the difficulty of letting this half-started fling wheeze out its last dying gasp.

“You’re too young to be a cheating married man, so I can either create bizarre scenarios inside my head, or you can give me a little more to work with.” None of the dramatic wailing and angsting he’d been expecting. He should have known better.

“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m a horrible person, and I already think badly enough of myself without further assistance.” He waited, fingers abnormally hot against the foam cup that did little to contain the heat of the liquid it contained. “When I met you, I was sort of in the middle of something already, but we’d hit a bit of a bump in the road, if you will.” Waxing eloquent as best he could with his stumbling confusion and careful avoidance of genders. Heaven forbid he give her reason to think it was over because he was gay. That never went over well with the ladies.

“So, you were cheating on your girlfriend with me?” She raised one eyebrow, leaning across the table, invading his space. She looked more amused than anything.

Shamefaced, Ken hung his head, too tired to deny the truth.

“Ken, it’s okay. I mean, I’m disappointed, sure, but we met in a grocery story where I was stalking you because my insane grandmother lives next to you. Is it such a huge surprise? Those aren’t the beginnings of a love to span the ages.” She smiled, still sedate and a little let down. “So, what’s she like, your special someone? I bet she’s a real sweetie.” Kakaria’s face lit up in the same smile free of hurt or pessimisms.

His own mouth quirked up in response, the dread tension ebbing from his shoulders and neck as the scene he’d been afraid of came and went. “I couldn’t begin to put the right words together to explain things.” She had no idea how true that was. His ‘girlfriend’ might get a little peeved if he knew about the conversation taking place.

“We get along, don’t we?” Her head tilted to one side, quizzically lopsided.

Thoughts of the flowing conversations on everything and nothing, laughter shared over dinner with the foods they liked best. “Yeah, we do.” Ken finally allowed, unsure where this new topic would lead.

One slim, tanned hand came to rest across his own calloused, philosophically blood stained hands, palm down against the dinged surface of the plastic table top. “Then let’s just call it quits and be friends.”

Flabbergasted, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes up the last few inches to see her face. Some sort of joke, it had to be.

“You’ve obviously got more than enough going on without me flipping out and turning back into Evil Stalker Girl,” by way of explanation. Another sunny smile. “Seriously though, you look like shit. You should go home, get some sleep, and spend some quality time with the lovely young girl you were silly enough to cheat on.” She tweaked his nose and stood. “Give me a call some time. We can hang out. Maybe I can meet her, eh?”

The silence she left behind her threatened to push in on his skull until it imploded slivers of bone matter all the way trough his brain. It was a welcome surprise, but he couldn’t help but be suspicious. The mostly untouched drink warming his hands had turned to room temperature sludge before he stood, throwing the full cup away as he headed for the door. He didn’t need that sort of caffeine anyway, they were all sleep deprived.

Retrospection as he drove home, analyzing the words said over and over, rehearsing new ones to say to Omi, now that he’d finally decided to behave like a grown-up. The good note his last encounter had ended on left him feeling confidant, almost happy, different from the sour endings of all his other broken romances. A fleeting thought of Omi breaking it off with him as an odd twist of fate was too much to think about.

“I’m home!” Kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hi!” Omi sped around the corner, rushing forward to loop his arms around Ken’s waist, face buried in the thick material of his jacket. “We have to be quiet, Youji’s napping on the couch.”

“Not anymore.” A mordant update on the state of things from the living room, followed by a thump that sounded suspiciously like someone kicking the coffee table.

“Sorry.” Tugging Omi past the doorway towards the stairs.

“We can’t go upstairs, either. Aya’s in an absolutely foul mood right now, and he’s busy pacing the hallways.” Pulling back with the arm leading him towards an unfortunate encounter.

“Well, let’s go to the kitchen then, I want to talk to you.” Sliding his grip up Omi’s upper arms until it skimmed shoulder and then neck, pulling in for a loose hug. It was good, to still be able to touch Omi, knowing he wasn’t dead beneath a pile of concrete and rubber, or tortured and confused in Ko-Ishi’s custody. Youji brushed past them, headed for the dangerous upstairs, slanting a quick, tired grin in Ken’s direction.

It was surprisingly silent in the upstairs hall. One could only assume Aya had finally settled down to brood, his leg weak from too much strenuous activity as of late.

“Hey, you alive up here?” Youji pushed open the door to their room, ignoring the obvious request for solitude. Aya jumped at the sudden intrusion, eyes wide and defensive. The shields should have gone down when he realized who was bothering him, and Youji couldn’t comprehend the closed look he was receiving. Was Aya still mad about whatever it was he was mad about last time? Youji had trouble keeping track these days.

“Come here.” Aya brushed the bedspread next to him, oddly intent.

Fighting back the instincts reading pure danger in the air, he stepped forward, uneasily seating himself next to Aya’s motionless form. He wasn’t doing anything untoward yet, but appearances were deceiving. The air was wrong, Aya’s expression was wrong; regarding him as an object, an enemy, too many things and none of them good, none of them Youji.

“Yeah?” Shifting under the weight of those narrow violet eyes, Youji had only enough time to blink once before Aya’s face blurred out of focus with proximity, soft, dry lips brushing his own. Curiously gentle, the rough pads of bare fingers a light susurration across his cheeks before they slid just as carefully back through his hair to cup the back of his skull.

It was so comfortable, the sedate play of tongues as Youji let Aya take the lead, parting his lips and deepening the kiss, that for a moment Youji was able to let the unease slide, to exist in the moment. Aya’s slick, heated tongue tracing the outline of his lower lip, tasting the depths of Youji’s mouth as best he could. Neither one pulled away until it threatened to go from a show of affection to something more erotic, and it was Aya who utilized his unbreakable grip on soft, honey colored hair to break it off, lips gleaming and parted still, regretting the loss of plaint warmth already.

“Wow.” Eyes a little unfocused, Youji attempted to sharpen the blurs in front of him into a semblance of vision. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” He dragged his teeth across his lower lip, an unconscious gesture of confusion.

The soft, relaxed line of Aya’s mouth tightened, a pale pink slash of reticence. “Just because.” A reasonless explanation. He leaned forward again, plundering the affluence of Youji’s open mouth once again, forestalling all conversation attempts. Eyes fluttering shut, they abandoned reasoning for the much more pleasurable pursuits of the flesh, as much of it as they could bare, thoroughly enmeshed as their faces were.

Aya pushed him back, straddling his hips as he planted kisses all along Youji’s jaw, running down to follow the curve of his neck, the gold skin stretched across too-prominent collarbones. The soft sounds drawn from Youji’s throat were all the encouragement necessary, familiarizing himself with a canvas long unseen. It had been too long, between their rotating bouts of depression, and all the violence they were caught up in. He mouthed the individual bars of Youji’s ribs, zeroed in on the dark bruises against paler, unexposed skin, drawn to the signs of a darker weakness.

He was already hard by the time Aya reached the indent of his naval. “I’m an opportunist, what can I say?” Smiling until Aya drew the head of his erection into his mouth, putting that lovely tongue of his to work. Fingers combed through the shorter hair at the back of Aya’s neck; Youji trying to be a gentleman instead of forcing himself deeper where he wanted so badly to be.

The muscles of his throat relaxed with a bit of applied concentration, urged on by the reflexive indrawn breath rasped into Youji’s chest, by the tightening of the long thighs under his arms.

“Oh, ‘s nice,” speaking and breathing all at the same time was becoming more and more problematic. Especially when Aya pulled back, rubbing the silk of his lips against saliva damp skin before flicking his tongue out, wrapping his jaw around Youji’s length once more. More breathless encouragement, sprawled out, panting for breath, face the most peaceful he’d seen it for days.

“Damn…” Cursing when Aya released him, only to crawl back up his body, pulling the last of their clothing off as he went, that shuttering glare still infusing his eyes, closing them to drop more kisses across Youji’s tired face, the dark circles under his eyes, the hollows beneath prominent cheekbones. “What’s gotten into you?” Blinking dazedly as the nearness of orgasm began to fade a little.

“Nothing.” Trailing light fingertips across his chest, down his sides, a mindless, calming touch.

“Do you want to-?” Youji nuzzled one pale, peaked nipple, grazing it with his teeth, a mild distraction. A few moments of heated groping, hands roaming lower and lower, anticipation glazed eyes barely open enough to guide touches.

“Do I want to?” Dragging his mind far enough from the gutter to remember a mumbled question, Aya spoke against hot skin, his lips tasting of the salt of Youji’s sweat.

“Uhm?” He frowned, eyes trying to cross while he looked for clues on Aya’s face. “Oh, yeah. Do you want to be on top?” Cupping Aya’s jaw with his bony hands, thumbs brushing the peak of bone beneath his eyes.

Narrow red eyebrows drew together, pulling away from his range of vision along with the face they were attached to. “Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to be nice.” His lips curled in a smile, free of guile. It wasn’t that bad, to give up control sometimes, and with Aya it didn’t feel threatening, didn’t make him think of Ko-Ishi, and pain, and domination, for all that Aya could be as abusive and vindictive as the next man when he was running on as much stale adrenaline as the rest of them.

It was easier to ignore questions like that while Aya had his hands between their legs, stroking and rubbing in all the right ways, his breathing a little unsteady against Youji’s cheek, eye’s slanting shut every time he forgot to consciously keep them open. He didn’t need to see, familiar with the contours of Youji’s body as he was. It had been too long since they‘d been skin to skin like this, mouths clashing in a battle of slick, energetic tongues.

There was such a thing as too much foreplay, Youji had decided long ago, but with Aya, it was always worth it, just a chance to delve beneath that disapproving, cold exterior to the heat of the matter beneath, the milky flesh hidden by armor both figurative and actual..

“Roll over.” A soft whisper against Aya’s ear, the unexpected damp flicker of a tongue tracing the whorls and intricacies of skin over cartilage, liping the unadorned lobe. Aya complied after jerking his head away from the annoying tickle, shivering at the warm pressure of palms pressing against his skin, trailing down the line of his spine, thumbs kneading the raised muscles on either side of the ridges dividing his back, brushing lower still. “Get up a bit, hands and knees.” Youji’s voice was losing its inflectionless cool, breaths coming fast and erratic at best.

“What are you doing?” Disconcerted by the dry finger brushing across his entrance, disturbed by the immediate spark of pleasure that made his arms want to give way. He didn’t want to look over his shoulder, that would be too much wariness, and Aya didn’t like showing weakness that way. A low sound forced itself from his throat as Youji gripped his buttocks, face lowering to lave the same point of interest, fascinated by the smooth/rough texture his tongue writhed against.

“Ah!” Aya’s head dropped forward, sweat damp hair clinging to his cheeks and forehead, stands irritably latching onto his neck as he tried to keep his hips up in the air, completely drawn in by those new sensations, balls drawn tight and aching up against his body, pleasure thrumming with the throb of Youi’s tongue between his legs. This was certainly something they’d never done before, Aya thought he’d remember doing something that brought him to the edge so quickly.

A few forceful stabs, the muscles surrounding Youji’s tongue trembling with sensation and the strain of fighting the incipient relaxation necessary to continue. When he drew back, licking his lips, Aya sagged down onto his elbows, shivering.

“Liked that, huh?” Youji fumbled for the lubricant, too far gone to continue on much longer.

“Youji, just shut up and hurry up.” Eyes squinted shit against the pressure of his forearms, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he was, but too proud to do something about it, to betray his unease. He felt hot and slick inside when he shifted, not uncomfortable, but more an erotic prelude of what was to come.

Youji didn’t have to be told twice, coating two fingers and gradually forcing them past the last of reflexively clutching muscles, gliding more easily with the additional slick of saliva. Aya pulsed around him, deliberately tensed and still to avoid betraying any further signs of enjoyment. Sometimes he got like that, trying to act as if he were distant from the act. Heaven forbid he actually have sex with someone on purpose, just because it would feel wonderful.

When Aya began to rock back against the invading digits, sides heaving with barely contained sounds of pleasure, Youji decided ‘to hell with foreplay’ and abandoned Aya to encase his own erection in the much hated condoms he was trying to be good and use as frequently as could be bothered with. It was better, the friction less raw and tearing for Aya, leaving him without the residual soreness of sex sans said latex hindrances.

“Youji, just a suggestion, but I don’t think you’re supposed to talk it into cooperation. Maybe you could hurry the fuck up and put it on?” A droll statement from the man without humor, mouth trying not to smile as he watched Youji mutter under his breath. It should have been yet another warning sign, but Youji was too desperate to care, wanting nothing but tight heat and the softness of bared skin against his own.

A warm palm ghosted across the curve of Aya’s backside, counterpane to the impersonal prodding between his thighs, a momentary, unreal discomfort. “Youji…” The closest he could come to whining without actually asking for anything.

“Roll over again.” Youji’s voice was husky, a breath away from hoarse. Shivering at the tone in his voice, Aya complied, momentarily caught by the need in Youi’s eyes. How could someone want this so much? It wasn’t a concept that came easily to him. The minute calluses of Youji’s fingers gave substance to the shifting grip beneath his knee as Youji placed them both to his liking, shaking damp hair from his eyes.

Violet eyes fluttered shut as Youji made his slow, almost pained entrance, awed as always that such tight, perfect heat existed to begin with. For a moment it was all he could do to keep drawing in breaths of air, caught up against Aya’s body, a jumble of sweaty limbs and clinging, tangled hair. Aya’s hands slid up his abdomen, hindered by the proximity of their arms.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” A hint of cool banter, the tone belied by the heaving of his pale chest, the way his teeth worried that gorgeous, full lower lip. “Anyone could put their dick in something and stand there doing nothing.” Perversely attempting to goad Youji into turning this in a way he was unable to, taking away the gentle touches and the wide smiles, to make this into a release of anger and tension, to bring the unattached violence back into the balance.

The slight frown creasing Youji’s forehead could have been either annoyance or concentration. Aya found he didn’t particularly care as Youji reacted and began to move, reluctant little shifts backwards, followed by relief as he encased himself fully within Aya again. He could complain all he’d like aloud, but Aya didn’t look so unhappy with his eyes all but rolling back in his head, fingers scrabbling across Youji’s slick skin, trying to ground himself as every minute shift sent pulses of reaction through his body.

Against Youji’s ear, warm breathes of air bearing barely intelligible pleas he doubted Aya even knew he was voicing. It was so difficult to focus on anything beyond the slide of flesh and the clench of Aya’s body all around him. He didn’t question the belligerent manner with which Aya berated him for going too slow when he finally realized he was speaking without a conscious decision. Aya could damned well go fuck himself next time if he wanted to be such a louse about it.

As things got hotter, eyesight going blurry with stinging salt water, from tears or sweat, neither could tell, Aya gave up on provoking a fight, unable to organize his thoughts or emotions enough to support logical actions. Somewhere along the way Youji slid burning palms up the line of Aya’s spine, the graceful curve of his arched back, arms coming to a rest looped under Aya’s shoulders, the force he needed an easily attained perfection then.

Youji had red hair in his mouth, between both their mouths as the sex degenerated into the helpless rut pitch it reached after too long a period of time playing nice. If he couldn’t come soon he was sure his whole body would just blow apart into a million pieces, his mind scattered on the breeze. Aya seemed to share his helpless lust, legs spreading wider across Youji‘s hips, so wanton a gesture it literally took Youji‘s breath a away for a moment.

Aya came first, helpless against the inspired assault, thigh muscles trembling tight against Youji as that unassailable control took yet another nose dive down into the normality the rest of the world was forced to experience at all times. His body molded to Youji’s malleable and relaxed as Youji hitched his hips up higher, thrusting into the last of Aya’s orgasmic shudders, the sated relaxation of muscles no longer consciously functioning.

Fingers pushed the cool, damp hair away from his face as the first wave of pleasure took him, his whole body giving up in the following euphoria, sticky and spent against Aya, soothed by the almost gentle hand combing his bangs back as his mind went away on vacation.

Tracing a circular pattern on the twitching skin of Aya’s stomach, Youji tried to piece things back together within his brain. “Were you mad at me about something again? When I first showed up, I mean.”

Aya didn’t answer out loud, but the subtle swaying of his forehead against Youji’s was reply enough. “Why?”

“Just the way you were acting, you know…” Letting the sentence die as he realized Aya probably didn’t care about his assumptions either way. Even Youji eventually got bored talking to himself.

“Do you want something to drink?” Aya propped himself up on one elbow a handful of minute later, collected and sure again. The vague wariness that had first caught Youji’s attention was back, just as carefully impersonal as before.

“You offering to get something for me, or just asking to be ornery?”

Aya frowned. “What do you think. I’m about ready to take it back.”

“Just some juice, maybe, if you don’t mind.” Surprised by a sudden show of generosity. Aya hated doing things for other people.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Stiff as he pulled on clothing and tried not to look as if he’d just finished having sex with someone.

“Aya.” Youji sat up, still unclothed and disarrayed on top of the covers.

“Youji.”

“Would you be mad if I just wanted something alcoholic instead?” He had to get some real, uninterrupted sleep. The few hours of depression induced exhaustion the other day with Ken had done little to recharge his flagging energy stores. If he could just quell the dreams for a long enough period of time, he could begin to feel human again.

“No.” A flash of something unexpected as Aya hovered in the doorway, almost relief at Youji’s question. He turned and fled to the kitchen, trying not to look as out of sorts as he felt.

It would probably be more effective when paired with alcohol, Aya reasoned as he poured Youji a glass of rum, one of the few fairly high proofed liquors left after his own binge a few days previous. The man he’d visited earlier that day hadn’t told him what he could and couldn’t mix the drug with, so he assumed the alcohol wouldn’t do much more harm. Aya hadn’t received any real dosage information either, so he added two full droppers of the clear liquid to Youji’s glass, mentally reasoning away the guilt even as he did so. He still had a minute or two to change his mind before Youji swallowed the anesthetic, leaving the world behind.

Mouth drawn into a tight line, Aya carefully picked up the glass, walking slowly towards the stairs again. It was a wonder Youji hadn’t begun checking all food and liquids from Aya by this point, as many times as he’d been drugged before. It was necessary this evening. Ko-Ishi had called to tell him that the exchange option was still on, but good for the upcoming evening only. It would be time for Youji to embark on a unpleasant, unexpected journey much soon than he’d hope. It was hard not to return, glass in hand, feeling guilty, but Aya coped reasonably well.

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Okay, explanation type thingies. I don’t want to give you all the wrong impression. Yes, Kakaria is portrayed as an almost decent person. For all that I’m a misogynist, and I don’t like the adding of original character romantic interests to fan works, I didn’t think it would be realistic to bastardize all peoples of the female persuasion in this story. It wouldn’t work if I made her some sort of nagging, whinging (not a real word, but I made it up and it means something along the line of virulently whiney and annoying) bitch. I got Ken to dump her, right? Be happy, or I’ll come to your home and kidnap your pets and keep them for my own joy. *laughs* Okay, maybe I won’t, but you should still e-mail me just to be sure. What’s my name? [email protected] or [email protected]