Twisted
scribblemoose

"Go on then. If you really hate me so much, if I'm such a bastard, kill me. You have my permission."

"Fuck you," Aya growled, gripping his katana tightly in both hands.

"Or is it more fun without my permission?"

The blade swept down in a cold, beautiful arc to rest against Yohji's throat.

Yohji didn't flinch. Didn't so much as swallow.

"Get up."

Yohji just lay there, his eyes flickering shut, tongue slipping out to moisten dry lips. His back arched, ever so slightly. Making an offering of himself.

The blood roared in Aya's ears. He couldn't drag his eyes from the fall of Yohji's hair against the bare wooden floorboards, pale gold against dirty, splintered pine. Soft, clean, shining against the dust.

"You want to hurt me." Yohji spoke softly, without opening his eyes, or disturbing his pose, prone, vulnerable. "I want you to hurt me. So hurt me, Aya."

Very slowly, Aya hooked the tip of his sword under the hem of Yohji's cropped shirt. He slid it carefully underneath, whispering against the quivering flesh of Yohji's belly and chest, and jerked upwards, slicing the thin fabric, easy as cutting through water. Or skin.

Yohji gasped. Aya parted the remains of his top with his katana, and ghosted the sharp point along the lean muscle and sparse flesh covering Yohji's ribs. He could count them. One, two, three... He was distracted by the rise and fall of the ribcage, the breath that Yohji was sucking into his lungs.

He could take that breath away.

He saw defiance in Yohji's eyes, open now, watching him, not the sword. Daring him.

"Now, Aya. Do it now."

The blade trembled in his hand.

"Hurt me. Damnit, hurt me."

Aya's katana clattered to the ground, and he fell to his knees. He pulled Yohji up by the shoulders and kissed him hard, savagely, grunting loudly when Yohji kissed him back. Not submissive or accepting at all, just hungry and wanting. Not afraid, even now. Aya pulled back, held Yohji's eyes with his as he ripped off his gloves, wrenched his coat open, then took Yohji's mouth again, so hard their teeth clashed, Aya's hair painting Yohji's scarlet where his eartails fell over soft blond bangs. Aya plucked at the waistband of Yohji's jeans.

"Get those off."

While Yohji struggled with boots and denim, Aya sat back on his heels, peeling back the leather of his own pants and fishing out his cock, coaxing it to hardness. Once Yohji was naked, Aya kissed him again, savagely, nipping his lower lip between sharp teeth. Yohji dared to snake his tongue towards Aya's, but was pushed firmly back for his trouble, the torture of Aya's kiss whipped away from him.

Aya circled the root of his own erection in one hand, and clasped the back of Yohji's skull with the other.

"Suck it."

He pulled Yohji's head down. He felt the caress of Yohji's outthrust tongue on the tip of his cock, and snapped his hips up, defeating any attempt at subtlety and forcing himself down Yohji's throat until he choked. He took his hand away, then, and let Yohji work him at his own pace, savoured the pleasure of hot mouth and firm lips, perfect suction. For all his faults, Yohji gave damn good head.

"Look at me."

Yohji obediently looked up, his swollen lips wrapped around Aya's cock, his eyes wet with lust or maybe something else. He was holding the head just inside his mouth, swiping his tongue back and forth over the slit, poking inside, teasing.

"I'd make it good and wet if I were you. It's going up your asshole any minute now."

Yohji pulled back and spat, spread the saliva around with his tongue, spat again.

"On your back."

Yohji looked for a moment as if he might be about to argue, but seemed to change his mind. He lay obediently on the floor, offering no resistance as Aya folded his legs back, exposing him, looking at the tight puckered slit that waited for him.

He hawked spit onto one finger, and wormed it inside, stretching, corkscrewing, opening it up. He knelt between Yohji's naked thighs, and lined up his dripping cock.

"Aya..."

There was the fear, at last. Eyes round and flickering, the edges of panic.

"I thought you wanted me to hurt you?" He mocked.

Yohji swallowed.

Aya pushed into him, just a little, and Yohji yelped.

"Don't fight it. You asked for it. Take it like a man, Kudoh."

He waited, though, just to let him get used to it; waited for the tension to fade, just a little. It didn't.

"Aya..."

Aya smirked at that admission, relented, and reached inside his coat for a foil wrapper. He ripped the top off with his teeth, pulled away from Yohji's ass and squirted just enough of the cool gel over the head of his dick. Then he held Yohji's legs up high and plunged in, not waiting to see if it still hurt, not caring, just pushing, in, in, in, until he was surrounded by hot, tight flesh. Then he waited for Yohji's scream to fade, looked down on him with burning purple eyes.

"That hurt, kitten?" he mocked, pulling back halfway.

"Damnit, Aya, I..."

"Are you sorry?" He slammed back inside again.

Yohji looked stubbornly at him, biting his lower lip.

"I'm sorry," said Aya, pulling back, "I didn't hear you." Slam.

"Fuck, Aya, I..."

"Was she good in bed, your whore?" Bang.

"Aya..."

"Was she better than me? Was she hotter, wetter, did her girl pussy make you come like I make you come?"

"No."

That was real. The closest Yohji got to honest.

"And are you sorry?" He paused.

"You don't understand."

"No, I don't." Aya pulled out, and this time felt Yohji's hips straining after him, regretting the loss. "Explain."

"I can't, I..."

"Were you drunk? Were you so fucked in the head that your dick didn't care where you put it?" He swung in again, moving easily now, Yohji's hole stretched to welcome him, eager to be filled, yearning for the friction. "Or did you just want a change?"

"No, I wanted, I wanted..."

"What did you want? What felt better than my dick inside you? What?"

Yohji was fucking him back now, and one outrageous hand crept over his hip towards his own cock, but Aya slapped it back.

Yohji groaned.

"Why did you fuck around on me?"

"I don't know," he whined.

"You just can't help it, can you? You just can't control this," Aya grasped Yohji's cock none-too-gently in one fist. "You're weak, and spineless, and you just can't..."

Yohji arched his back, his head scrubbing against the rough wooden floor as Aya pumped him in smooth, tight strokes.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm so sorry."

"Then, why?!" Aya yelled, pushing deep inside him and falling forwards, Yohji's legs sliding along his shoulders, to catch his weight on his spare hand. He looked down into Yohji's flushed face, the frightened eyes, most lips, the soft, golden hair. "Why? Tell me, now, Yohji, why?"

They paused, searching each others' eyes, joined, panting, the air around them perfectly still.

"I wanted this to end," he whispered. "You're too close. It matters too much."

Aya released his grip a little; released some of the tension from his hips. "What?"

"Everyone I love dies, Aya. I don't want you to fucking die."

Aya took in the frailty of those deep green eyes, the vulnerability wrapped up in swagger and menace.

"I don't want you to die. It hurts."

Aya shut his eyes, and started to move again, fucking deep, stroking hard, listening to Yohji's breath, feeling it puff against his lips as he kissed him briefly. He relished the long, low scream that tore from Yohji's lungs as he came. He meant to pull out, to spray his own come over that flushed, perfect, faithless face, but he left it too late. Half way to yanking his dick from Yohji's ass he came, grunted, pushed back in to finish.

He felt Yohji's fingers pressing into his back, nails too short to make a mark, but trying, just the same. He held himself off Yohji's body by his arms, heaving breath into his lungs, head drooping, scarlet hair dripping over Yohji's face.

He winced as the reality of a near-dry fuck scorched his dick. He could imagine what Yohji was going to feel like. His lips twisted into a faint smile at the thought.

"Aya, are we... is... did... have I fucked up so badly, have I... are we over?"

"What do you think? You're an idiot, Yohji," said Aya, sliding out of the lean body and collapsing on his back with a grunt. He pulled Yohji to him, and dropped a kiss to his head.

"Oh," said Yohji. He slid an arm around Aya's belly, dared to snuggle into Aya's neck. If it was the last time, he reasoned, he may as well make the most of it. "I'll ask for a transfer, if you like," he said. "I'm sure Manx would..."

Aya slapped him on the arm, just hard enough to sting, but not to hurt. "Baka," he said.

"But I... you said..."

"Shut up, Yohji."

Aya closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths to stop his voice from cracking.

He pulled Yohji closer, breathed the stale cigarette smoke buried deep in his shining golden hair.

"Stay," he said.