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Bloodstained Illusions

by P L Nunn


Chapter Seven


Raymond was upgrading security. There were new faces prowling the house and grounds. The impassive faces of professionals. The sort of men that would kill you out of hand without a blink of the eye. Aya could be accused of wearing that look, more often than not - - well, before their falling out with Krittiker at any rate. Ken did when he was about business. Yoji supposed even Omi might be accused of it. No one that took other men's lives as a profession could ever hope to be free of it or the mindset that backed it. Yoji thought that more than any of his team mates, he dwelled on his kills the longest, regretting some of them to the point of depression, but it still didn't make his face any less cold when he passed a mirror on the way to a kill. He thought if some of these men that Raymond had hired stared too hard at him, they'd be able to identify one of their own and then Raymond wouldn't have any reason to keep his distance.

He didn't have any reason now, save for his own uncertainty. Save for the fact that Yoji wasn't as accommodating as a 10 year old Sonny had been in his naiveté and childish trust and Raymond hadn't crossed the line yet that would allow him to initiate full out rape. It didn't keep his hands to himself though. Or his damned sickening promises and declarations of familial affection.

If Raymond came into his room one more time, he was going to snap and kill the bastard, no matter that he'd go down afterwards in the process. Sleep became an elusive thing when you were waken too many times by a hand on your leg, or your hair, or just the awareness of a body standing over the bed, staring with silent intensity. It was enough to make a sane man scramble after his wits. He had to keep telling himself, that sooner or later he would find a way out of this. Sooner or later, Raymond would make a trip to the mainland and Sonny would develop a sudden desire not to be parted from his newly discovered father. Hell, he'd even sleep with the bastard if that's what it took. He'd done worse things, though seldom less personally repugnant.

He was also starting to worry about the physical side of his cover. He was starting to get honey brown roots in blue black hair. He hadn't expected to be here for more than a few days. Being here close to a month had seen inevitable hair growth. He had his first stroke of luck in solving that particular problem, by sneaking into Maria's abandoned room and skulking about under her bathroom sink. The lady had apparently liked to color her hair. She had a variety of tints to choose from. He found the darkest one available and spent the afternoon redarkening his hair.

One problem solved. The only other fear there was the loss of a colored contact. If he suddenly popped up with a green eye instead of a brown one, he'd get a quick bullet in the head.

He'd tried cozying up to some of the more likely muscle that prowled around the house and the grounds. He wasn't shadowed in the house per say, but if he took a step outside it they were on him. He wasn't restricted access to the immediate grounds. The gardens were open to him, as well as the trails that wound about the manicured wilderness behind the house, but he was never alone when he chose to limp around them. They weren't subtle about it. They were as polite as their position required them to be, but no more. Which meant if he made a remark to them, he might get a head nod or a grunt yes or no, but none of them would engage him in conversation. Either they'd been warned off him, or Raymond was damned good at hiring the most antisocial pricks on the face of the earth. He wouldn't gain any advantage with the hired muscle.

The staff was a little less glacial, though they were in fear of their lives. No few of them had disappeared when Raymond had staged his coup and went about ridding himself of anyone that held staunch loyalty to his father's way of running things. They'd talk to Yoji, and exchange harmless pleasantries when he pushed it, but they were wary of him. The old cook had been here the longest. She claimed to remember him when he was a child, which freaked him out a little, since she often would look at him curiously, as if she couldn't quite identify the man she was talking with to the child she had known. Raymond he had fooled completely, but this old native cook with her strong accent and her narrow, sagging eyes . . . well, she didn't quite disbelieve, but she was baffled at the differences. Yoji stopped hanging out in the kitchen, afraid she'd ask him something he couldn't answer or just come right out with a 'you don't look like the boy I remember' and even if he managed to shrug it off, the rumor would start to circulate.

Which left him no one to cultivate and no one to relieve his boredom with, save Raymond, who welcomed his company the way the spider welcomes the fly. He was being a fool to rebuff it. The only way out of this was to make Raymond believe that he wanted to be here and that he welcomed whatever advances Raymond chose to make. It was just a matter of mentally preparing himself for some very unsavory things.

He went to bed with that decision made and lay there sleeplessly for most of the night worrying over it. He'd seduced more women in the line of duty that he cared to admit and slept with no small portion of them. He'd never had to do the same with a man. He hadn't even come into the full realization that he liked men until Aya. And Aya was a special case - - absolutely he was, because it wasn't like Yoji went around checking out guys now on a regular basis. Sure, it was easier to admit that the something pretty that had walked by was male instead of female, but for the most part, his eye was still drawn towards womanly curves when he was people watching.

He was going to fuck this up. He knew he was and he wouldn't have any control over it. If Raymond tried to stick his tongue down his throat again, he was going to gag and if he put his hands on him, his body was going to give him away. He could play the flirting game all day, but when it came right down to it, Raymond Tanaka was about as far from his type as you could get and making a sudden affection for him believable was going to be damned tough to pull off. If he'd have been young and hot and not supposedly his father he could have managed it. Where the hell had all of his professionalism gone?

He ended up with about two hours sleep, before the polite knock on his door announcing breakfast woke him up. He was expected at breakfast, just as he was expected at lunch and dinner and Raymond had made it clear that tardiness was not tolerated, much less absence.

Yoji grumbled and tossed the sheet off, sitting on the edge of the bed and scrubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Breakfast used to be a rare thing for him. He was more a brunch sort of guy, if that. Rising late was a pleasure sorely missed. He went sullenly to the shower and emerged clean but only slightly more awake. He dressed and went downstairs with damp hair, mentally gearing up his defenses to deal with whatever curve ball got thrown at him today. He could smell the coffee on the balcony and the aroma of the western style breakfast that the staff always prepared. There was something about eggs this early in the morning that just didn't sit right with him. He did rather like bacon though. And the thin little crepes the cook topped with fruit and syrup.

Maybe he'd have bacon and crepes and liberally doctored coffee this morning while he steeled himself to cozy up to Raymond.

There were voices from the verandah where breakfast was usually served. Well, Raymond's voice, mostly, sounding like he was giving instructions to one of the staff. And sure enough, one of the women came bustling out with the intent look of someone juggling an array of directions they very much wanted to get right the first time. Raymond didn't tolerate mistakes.

Yoji fixed himself a coffee from the serving table inside the double glass doors leading out to the porch overlooking the sloping eastern side of the island and the ocean. The skies were very clear today and the weather nice. It would have been a great day for a boat ride, if anybody would be nice enough to let him near one.

He took a breath and walked outside. Raymond turned at his appearance, a slight frown on his face.

"You're late, Sonny."

Yoji couldn't swallow the sip of coffee, throat closed up tight of a sudden, wits scattered thin. There stood Aya, thin framed glasses perched on his nose, wearing a very nicely tailored suit. His face was utterly bland. Utterly uninterested in Yoji's appearance.

Yoji had to force himself to swallow the coffee. It went down the wrong way and he sputtered, using the near choking on hot liquid as an excuse to slip back into the role he was supposed to be playing.

"Sorry," he muttered, forcing himself not to stare at Aya, forcing away the stupid, relieved grin that wanted to spread out over his face. They'd come after him - Aya had come after him - and he wasn't going to end up a sacrifice to a failed Kritiker mission after all.

"You look like hell." Raymond complained. "Don't you sleep?"

You should know, you prick. Was what he thought. "Bad night." Was what actually came out, accompanied by a casual shrug and Yoji edging around Raymond to the glass topped table where breakfast was laid out.

Don't stare at Aya. Don't stare. Don't lose hold of the cover now, when succor was on hand, after keeping it for so damned long when it had seemed he'd never leave this island alive.

"Eda Minoru . . ." Raymond was saying, introducing his new secretary.

"You need a secretary?" Yoji asked, having a reason to keep his eyes on Aya for more than fleeting moment.

Raymond lifted his brow. "I no longer have the use of my father's. She made the mistake of betraying me - - you recall the incident, I'm sure."

Yoji blinked, taken off his guard. Maria had been Tanaka's secretary? No one had bothered to tell him that.

"She worked for him?" he asked.

Raymond laughed bitterly. "The old man had an eye for pretty, young things. She came to work here as his assistant and eventually maneuvered her way into his bed. You can't trust women. Mr. Eda comes highly recommended."

Aya inclined his head. "Thank you, Tanaka-san."

"Mr. Tanaka." Raymond corrected. "I'm not my father. I prefer a more western outlook on life."

Of course you do, Yoji thought, less bother with prickly things like honor and tradition. Aya inclined his head, the picture of decorum, all prim and proper and submissive, like any good assistant should be. Raymond smiled, well pleased.

"This afternoon, we'll go over your duties - - in the meantime, I'll let you recover from the boat ride over. Your bags have already been taken up. Show him to his room, you know the one - - Maria's old quarters - - would you - - son?"

Raymond had taken to calling him that when the mood struck him, when Yoji wasn't pissing him off. Yoji shrugged and finished off the last of his coffee, snagged a piece of bacon and canted a look at Aya. He sauntered off without a word and after a polite inclination of the head to Raymond, Aya followed just as silently.

Past the normal guards loitering about the front hall and up the curving stairwell to the balcony that led to either the western or eastern wings of the house.

"Well, this is it?" Yoji opened the door to the room and found that those things of Maria's that had been there only a few days before had been removed. A few bags sat at the foot of the bed, waiting to be unpacked. Aya had a slim case with a laptop in his hand. Yoji strolled in before him, opening the bathroom door like any good guide.

"Thank you - - -?" Aya gave him a look, then let his eyes rove about the room in question, asking silently if it were bugged. God, Yoji honestly didn't know. He wouldn't put it past Raymond. He wondered if his own room might be and shivered at the notion.

"Sonny. Sonny Tanaka. Parentage presently under dispute."

Aya lifted a brow, hardly flinching from character even when it was the two of them up here alone - - hopefully - - when all Yoji wanted to do was get his hands on him, or his mouth and not let go.

"Well, thank you. I don't want to keep you." Aya was dismissing him as politely as a new assistant might. Of course it would raise suspicion for Sonny to loiter too long in this newcomer's room.

"Sure." Yoji stuck his hands in his pockets. "If you need anything . . . You know the drill."

"Thank you." Aya shifted the glasses down over the narrow bridge of his nose and added softly. "You're limping. An accident?"

Yoji hesitated, wondering if the truth would get either of them in trouble if there were curious ears listening in. He decided Sonny would take the blunt route. "No. No accident. He hit what he was aiming at."

Aya's eyes narrowed slightly. He closed the door in Yoji's face. Yoji stood on the outside of it, a faint, helpless smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

Raymond Tanaka was a stickler for having things done exactly his way whether his way was the most efficient or not. The man wasn't brilliant, not like his father had been reputed to be, he was simply cold blooded and lucky enough to have been born his father's son. If left to his own devices the Tanaka empire would eventually crumble from lack of a wise hand to guide it. Aya figured that out the first hour of 'orientation', while Tanaka was familiarizing him with his duties. Aya listened and nodded and took notes on his laptop, asking pertinent questions when Tanaka gave him openings. He was very polite, very decorous and Tanaka seemed to like that. The man liked people who showed him proper respect even though he wasn't much on eastern traditionalism.

All the while, Aya made mental notes on security and surveillance and what to expect when the time came to make their departure from this island. The questions he asked on the matter were only practical for a personal assistant living on the premises to know. There were surveillance camera's, but not on the inside of the house. They littered the grounds though. There were always guards in the house, but only by the downstairs exits. A lot of muscle prowled the grounds. They were quartered in barracks out behind the sprawling garage. That was probably where Ken was now.

Aya might have come in weaponless, but Ken hadn't. Ken, having been brought on for his capacity to cause mayhem had been allowed to carry his own gun and his own little collection of sharp toys. Ken had the freedom of the grounds and a direct line to security. It would be up to him to mark the layout of the camera's and security habits. It was up to Aya to get Yoji and the information Krittiker so badly wanted.

Yoji wasn't at 100%. It was more than the limp. He'd had a hollow, fatalistic look in his eyes when he'd first come outside for breakfast, before he'd seen Aya and almost gave the game away with surprised recognition. Things were not what they'd been led to believe. Raymond Tanaka's relationship with Sonny went far and beyond sibling rivalry. Tanaka had said 'son', but his eyes held nothing of fatherly affection. There was affection there, but it was of an entirely different, darker sort. It made Aya clench his teeth and pause in a moment of irrational anger as he was setting his room to order. If Yoji had been dealing with that for the past several weeks, little wonder he was at his wits ends. The fact that he hadn't snapped was admirable. Aya doubted his own patience would have been so durable under the same circumstances. At least not anymore. Tanaka would have been dead by his hand and more than likely himself soon after, once Tanaka's muscle rolled into action. The looseness of security here around the house was deceiving.

Having spent the morning and early afternoon in Tanaka's company, Aya was allowed the rest of the day to familiarize himself with the house and the grounds. He idly looked for Yoji on his way out the front door, but there was no sign of him. He found Ken instead, after a turn around the immediate area surrounding the house. Behind the large garage was a recreational area. A paved space with a basketball hoop, a few picnic tables, a covered grill and a path leading down through denser foliage to tennis courts and a large pool. Ken had already integrated himself firmly within the ranks of security, as evidenced by his laughing in camaraderie with a group of off duty muscle by the hoop. Aya met his eyes briefly, inclining his head in acknowledgment of a fellow newcomer to Tanaka's service. They'd ridden over together, after all, so it could hardly be looked on as strange to exchange a word or two. Ken nodded back at him, dark eyes giving away the briefest flash of relief, before he covered it and turned his attention back to his new comrades in arms. He must have seen it in Aya's face, the lack of frigid, suicidal anger that would have been there if Yoji had been dead. The anger coiling in Aya's gut was of a much more reasonable sort. Krittiker didn't want Raymond Tanaka dead. Aya wasn't certain that mercy was an option. He supposed it depended on Yoji and what he'd had to endure in this place, because mission or no, they'd gone far beyond the point where any of them having to play the whore, much less the victim would be tolerated.

He made the circuit of the immediate grounds, past the tennis courts and the pool, through the lush gardens that wound around the east wing of the house and overlooked the glistening span of ocean. The only easy way to the docks, he thought was the main road up. The cliff the house sat upon looked too treacherous to attempt. He paused, leaning on the waist high stone wall that served as a barrier between grounds and the steep, forested incline below. The calls of island birds and mating insects drifted up. He turned his head slightly at the scuff of a shoe, and saw the hulking form of one of the house guards in the garden. He hadn't seen him immediately through the obscuring foliage.

"One of my shadows."

Aya narrowed his eyes, turning his back on the wall and searching through the garden growth for Yoji. There, reclined on a bench off the paved path, one knee drawn up, a lax arm draped across it, cigarette held loosely between two fingers.

"Smoke?" Yoji inquired and it was a viable reason to walk across to him and sit down next to him to take the offered cigarette. Yoji produced a lighter and Aya leaned in towards it.

"You can't smoke in the house." Yoji said.

Aya sit on the edge of the bench and drew in a breath of tobacco flavored air, but blew it out without inhaling. Yoji smiled wryly at that, but didn't comment..

"You have more than one shadow?" Aya asked softly, not looking at him.

"Only if I'm bad. Not today."

Aya watched ash form at the tip of his cigarette, then flicked it onto the earth at their feet. There was no one close enough to hear them talk, he leaned back, glancing at Yoji's face from the corner of his eye. "Are you okay?"

"Better now." Yoji snorted softly, a failed attempt at laughter.

Your leg?"

"Three weeks healed. It'll hold."

"Do you have the information?"

"Yeah. I got it."

Okay. That was one less thing Aya had to worry about. Getting off the island was the only priority.

"They don't want Tanaka dead." Aya said softly. "But . . . does he need to be, Yoji?"

"Oh, yeah he does." Yoji said immediately, passionately, but then sighed, lips turning upwards just a little in an honest smile. "But not for me, baby."

Aya nodded, flicking the smoke to the ground and stomping it out with the toe of his shoe. This conversation had gone on long enough. Much longer and Yoji's shadow would raise questions and maybe raise them to Tanaka. Aya rose and moved away, leaving Yoji sitting alone in the garden. Well, except for that one lurking shadow.

Yoji sucked in a huge lung full of smoke and shut his eyes, letting the nicotine soothe nerves that had gone taught with strain. Goddamn if it hadn't been hard not to put his hands on Aya. If it hadn't of been for the guard standing at the edge of the house Yoji would have risked it. Would have found some reason to lean over and brush his hand across Aya's arm, maybe cant in close enough to get a whiff of Aya's scent. Aya would have called him on it. Aya was in mission mode, that was clear from his eyes and the tone of his voice and Aya in mission mode didn't tolerate foolishness. Aya was very likely pissed at him. It was hard to tell when he wasn't emoting, but given the circumstances, it was a good bet. Since Aya was here, he had to assume Krittiker had contacted the rest of Weiß. Which meant explanations had gone round. Which meant Yoji's reasons had possibly been exposed and Aya wouldn't be happy with those in the least.

Aya hadn't mentioned how they were getting off the island. Yoji had to assume there was a plan better than the one he'd come here with. Aya not telling him meant either Aya in a snit, because God knew he was a master of grudges, or that it was one of those mold the plan as you go sort of things, in which case Yoji thought he ought to have been given at least a little bit of a heads up. He'd damn sure find out and soon, whether Aya wanted to play 'need to know basis' or not.

He finished the smoke, tossing it on the ground next to Aya's, grinding it out with his heel as he rose. He strolled past his baby sitter without a second glance, going for the front entrance of the house. Once inside and the guard would abandon him to his own devices. Dinner was about an hour off and for once, he was looking forward to it. Aya would be there in his role as big bro - - oops, Daddy's new assistant. He showered, shaved and checked the roots of his hair. Maria's dye was still holding tight. The damned contacts were beginning to itch like crazy and his supply of eye drops was getting low. He put forth a modicum of effort dressing for dinner, khaki slacks, an untucked short sleeved shirt with a tolerable tropical print. Raymond liked anyone eating at his dinner table to be presentable.

When Yoji ambled downstairs, Aya was already present, in his punctual and efficient persona. He never failed to make Yoji thoughts creep along lascivious paths when he wore glasses. He managed to make an erotic hybrid out of bookishness and elegantly chic that was just too good to be true. Yoji's eyes lingered longer than they should have with Raymond in the room. Aya stridently wasn't looking at him, so Yoji took the clue and wondered around the table to his accustomed chair and slouched down in it.

"Sonny's poorly lacking in manners, Mr. Minoru. Say good evening, Sonny."

"Good evening, Sonny." Yoji reached for the decanter of wine. Raymond was obviously still in his good mood, for he let it slide, signaled for supper to be served by taking his place at the head of the table. He talked business with Aya, and Aya nodded now and then and looked like he was taking mental notes. When the main course came out, whole snapper broiled and glazed with fruit, served over a bed of seasoned rice, talk stopped as Raymond devoted his attention to eating. Yoji glanced up from under his lashes now and then at Aya, but Aya was dutifully concentrating on his plate. No damned fun at all, but what else was new.

When the last bit of desert had been finished and the last glass of wine consumed, Raymond sat back, well pleased and announced.

"I may be taking a trip to the mainland this week. To cultivate some of father's business connections and assure them personally that there will be no change in the way things are run." He rose, walking around the table to stand behind Yoji, putting both hands on his shoulders, fingers squeezing just a little too hard for comfort. "I'm sorry to say, that I don't trust you left to your own devices, Sonny."

"Yeah?" Yoji kept his fingers on the stem of the wine glass, "So, I'm up for a trip to the mainland."

Raymond leaned over his shoulder, and his breath on the side of Yoji's cheek made him flinch. "I don't trust you let loose there either. You've given me so little cause to have faith in you, son."

"So . . . what then?"

Raymond moved one hand to his neck, under the collar and against bare skin. Aya was staring from beneath his lashes, mouth tight and unhappy. Thankfully Raymond was focused on Yoji and didn't see his respectfully new aid glaring virtual death at him.

"I haven't decided yet. I will before I leave."

Great. Wonderful. Hopefully it would be a moot point and he'd be long gone before then.

With a last proprietary squeeze of his fingers, Raymond released him and backed off, suggesting to Aya that they retire to his office and accomplish a bit of actual work. Aya inclined his head and followed, but there was a certain tenseness to his shoulders, a certain poised balance in the way he held himself that warned Yoji that dangerous things were going through his head. Aya being protective was no terrible thing, it was rather flattering, truth be told, but not when it was spur of the moment and likely to get them killed.

Yoji went outside and smoked in the falling darkness after he was released from dinner, imagining Aya and Raymond upstairs in Raymond's office dealing with the organization of the restructured Tanaka empire. Aya had a head for that sort of thing, organization and finances and structure, that let him fill the role he was playing perfectly. Ken would have been miserable at it. Omi would have thrived if he didn't look so much like a green kid that it hampered people's perception of him. Yoji couldn't have done it, being far more adept at getting into people's beds rather than their finances. Bravo for him. Look where it got him.

After sucking down three smokes and becoming the target of one too many nighttime insects he returned to the house and the dubious retreat of his room. He flipped on the TV and surfed about the satellite enhanced channels aimlessly, all the while keeping an ear out for the sounds of the house. Footsteps along the balcony hall, opening and closing of doors. The inevitable silence that settled over a house whose occupants had finally retired for the night.

He shut off the TV and lay against the headboard of his bed, biding time, letting that silence settle into the healthy rhythms of sound sleep. Finally, he rose and stretched and switched off the lights before slipping out his door and down the hall towards Maria's old room. The door was locked, which wouldn't deter either Raymond who had a master key, or house hold security which had brute force, from entering, but it would give the occupant a moment's warning to prepare. He tapped softly on the door and waited, shoulder to the frame for several long minutes before the lock turned on the other side and Aya cautiously opened the door.

Yoji didn't give him the chance to protest the stupidity, pushing inside the moment the opportunity presented itself and shutting the door behind him, reaching behind his back for the lock and turning it, even as Aya narrowed his eyes and hissed at him.

"Are you out of your mind? What are you thinking?"

"We need to talk."

"We need not to have our cover's blown."

"How are we getting out of here?"

"We're working on it?"


"Ken is here too."

Oh. Yoji hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. "You don't have a plan?"

"We do." Aya mouth set in tight, stubborn lines. "Its just not concrete. We didn't know the state of Tanaka's security . . ."

"Tight enough to make it difficult." Yoji sniffed.

Aya sniffed back. He'd been asleep maybe, from the tousled condition of his hair, from the state of his dress - - or undress. He'd donned a robe to answer the door, but it was loosely belted and underneath was nothing but white tank top and briefs. Yoji reached out, catching the loose knot of the belt with a finger and sliding it free. His eyes slid up Aya's body to his face, meeting eyes gone dark and unreadable. Aya trying to hide whatever emotion Aya was feeling. Which meant Aya was feeling something he thought was inappropriate. Yoji sighed and smiled, letting go the belt and sliding his hand across Aya's belly to his hip.

"So . . . what's the tentative plan?" He asked a moment before Aya lunged forward, catching his face between his hands and covering his mouth with a kiss that bordered on violence. Yoji wrapped an arm around Aya's waist, slid the other hand into Aya's hair and returned the fervor, open mouthed and questing for something gone too long without.

Aya was right. They were out of their minds even starting this, but desperation and need took over like an angry addiction crying out to be fed.

Aya's fingers tore at the hem of his T-shirt, pushing it upwards, palms electric on his skin as they passed across ribs, nipples, the underside of his arms as he hastily lifted them to discard the shirt. Aya's robe hit the floor and Aya's shirt soon after, and the contact of bare chest against bare chest chased the last of Yoji's reason away. All he could think about was molding himself to Aya's body, devouring it, tasting each and every sorely missed inch of skin.

By the time they hit the end of the bed, Aya was naked and Yoji only clothed by the grace of a pair of boxers that he hadn't managed to yet kick off in the haphazard journey to the end of the bed. The mattress springs twanged a little in protest as they hit, the both of them collapsing upon it at a graceless slant, half on half off the edge of it and hardly caring so long as all the proper parts met up.

Meandering foreplay was not an option. Satisfying the immediate itch was. Yoji ground his hips against Aya's, the soft, slick heads of their mutual erections sliding against each other, the tightened sack of Yoji's scrotum brushing hard against the heated length of Aya's shaft. Aya's fingers tore at his back, his teeth scraped at the soft flesh of Yoji's bottom lip and he thrust his hips forward to meet head-on the motion of Yoji's The need became so strong it hurt. Actually physically ached. It needed to be sated now.

Some small bit of practicality reared its head inside Yoji. He recalled a jar of Vaseline under Maria's bathroom sink, along with all the other cosmetic products. He hoped the hasty clean out of her belongings had not extended to everything under the sink. So, with a gasping breath he pushed himself back from Aya and got a disgruntled glare because of it.

"Hold that thought, baby . . . I'll be right back."

Aya looked like he might complain, his appreciation for a little pain a great deal more twisted than Yoji's, so Yoji reared back down and kissed him and almost got pulled back into the grind before extracting himself and scrambling to the bathroom, flinging open the doors under the sink and desperately searching for the jar of petroleum jelly. He almost crowed in victory when he found it, and raced back to the bed and Aya.

Aya had a hand on his cock, his knees bent and open, revealing all the enticing shadows between his legs, the roundness of his balls as they dipped down, the tight curve of his ass before the bed flattened it out, the dark cleft between cheeks that just begged to be explored. Yoji moaned and fell back onto the bed half on, half off of Aya, reestablishing the link with a tongue invasive kiss and fingers smeared with Vaseline between Aya's legs. Aya spread his thighs wider, lifting his hips a little to allow Yoji easier access. He strangled his moan against Yoji's mouth as Yoji's slid a finger inside him. After a month without, just the anticipation that came with the feel of his finger sliding in and out of the tight, hot passage, almost made him cum on the spot.

"Don't . . . waste . . . time." Aya gasped, still retaining a bit of common sense despite the flush in his cheeks and the raggedness of his breath. And he was right. On so many levels.

Yoji pulled his hand out, smearing the remnants of jelly on his weeping cock, rolling on top and getting an arm under Aya's knee as Aya lifted it to his hip, pushing Aya's other leg forward and baring Vaseline coated entrance to his body. Yoji guided himself in, fighting an offensive battle against the natural defensive resistance of Aya's muscles. Yoji's forces won the day, sliding in and declaring their dominance, but ever cautious about the terrain and going slow.

Aya grunted in annoyance at that and thrust upward, finishing the job, pressing his ass tight against Yoji's thighs, taking command of the tempo and setting the pace hard and fast. Aya was biting his lip to keep the silence and Yoji's grunts were hardly louder than the slapping of his balls against Aya's flesh with each and every hard thrust. He covered the head of Aya's cock with his hand, coating his palm with precum and sliding it back down the length of Aya's shaft. Aya writhed, a delicious twisting of his body, a tightening of his internal muscles that likened to take Yoji over the edge.

Fine, common sense dictated. Let it take him. Finish it quick instead of playing games and drawing it out. They weren't at home. They didn't have the leisure of all the time in the world. Still - - just a few more moments of ecstasy.

Ah well, the best of intentions . . . Aya bucked under him and turned just so and Yoji lost his hold on control. He shuddered and strained forward, vision going alternately gray and bright with dancing lights. Fucking brilliant. Astounding. Earth shattering. His arms wanted to give way afterward, but Aya hadn't quite made it to that place, so he stayed where he was and made a little more concentrated effort with the rhythm of his hand on Aya's cock.

Aya spurted, legs tightening around Yoji's waist, body clenching possessively at Yoji's softening cock still inside. Yoji stayed where he was a moment more, head down, drained. When Aya stopped trembling, he rolled over and onto his back beside him. Easy breath was still elusive. The bullet hole in his leg ached as if he'd run a marathon on it instead of a quick fuck. Quick and stupid, but eminently satisfying. He'd needed it more than he'd needed anything in a very long time. It had repaired something in him and left him wide open at the same time. He shuddered, rolling onto his side and pressing his forehead into Aya's shoulder, feeling suddenly more vulnerable than he had for the last four weeks enduring Raymond's tender mercies.

"So, what was that plan?" He asked shakily.

Silence from Aya, then a hand on his hair and Aya shifted ever so slightly to press his cheek against the top of Yoji's head.

"I'll make contact with Ken tomorrow and get his take on perimeter security. When we're ready we take out the core system, blind their radar and trigger a signal to let Omi know we're ready to be picked up."

"Better take out Raymond's boats and most of his people too boot then, cause they've got missile launchers."

"I know. You need to get out of here."

"Tell me."

"Of my room, Yoji. Go back to yours before somebody notices you're missing."

"Yeah. Okay." He took a breath and pushed himself up, reaching for discarded clothing and pulling it back on.

Aya followed him up, snagging his robe off the floor and heading towards the bathroom and most likely a shower.

"Don't take any more chances while we're here, Yoji." He warned and Yoji shrugged at him, not quite able to summon a half hearted grin, and slipped out the door and down the dark hall back towards his own room.

Once back into that solitary darkness, he pressed his back against the door, finally letting the grin cover his lips, his dick twitching as afterimages of recent activity crossed his mind. Aya had the right idea. A shower didn't sound half bad. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it the general direction of the bed and leaned over for the bedside lamp.

The light came on, casting the room in the light of a low watt bulb. It actually took Yoji a moment to realize that he wasn't alone. He almost looked right past Raymond, he was sitting so quietly still in a chair in the far corner.

"Shit." Yoji hissed, heart skipping a beat, blood draining from his face in shock as his brain processed the fact that there was another living body in an area he had assumed was occupied only by himself.

"Where have you been, Sonny?" Raymond asked softly. There was a gun in his hand, resting on his knee. "You smell of sex."

Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. "Let me explain." His mind was racing, scrambling for excuses . . . for believable lies.

"You're not to be trusted, Sonny. You're no better than he was, sleeping with the hired help. You're trash, Sonny - - that bitch of a mother of yours made you into a cheap slut - - and I won't tolerate it."

He lifted the gun and Yoji found himself staring down into a dark barrel of death. There was no way he could cover the space between himself and Raymond in time to make a difference. He took a breath and a chance, the only chance at the moment that he thought might get past the rage in Raymond's eyes.

"But I thought that's what you wanted me to be, the only difference being, you want me to be your cheap slut - - daddy."



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