“Aya-chan’s quitting school.”
Yoji looked up, smoke dangling from his lips, magazine folded across his lap, in the midst of reading about a late, great American blues man. Aya was standing in the doorway to his room, white t-shirt, black sweats, pale bare feet, a somewhat shell-shocked look on his normally imperturbable face.
“What?” Yoji removed the cigarette from his mouth and carefully laid it in the ashtray on the window cill. There was something vaguely volatile about the way Aya was holding his body. A certain tenseness in the line of his shoulders, in the way his fists loosely curled. Yes, he might be upset with a little sister making the decision to leave university, but the notion shouldn’t have prompted violence.
“She’s leaving school.”
“And you know this, how?” He wasn’t supposed to have contact with her, for Aya-chan’s own welfare. He’d made that decision himself after she’d woken from her coma. There were too many factions that might use her against them, to many chances of her getting caught in the crossfire for Aya to ever trust her within a hundred mile radius of Weiss. And even if there were no more Weiss, there were too many enemies that had long memories for Aya to ever relax in his little sister’s company. So he’d sent her off, with the help of Krittiker, and with the resources of Krittiker made sure she had a new life and a new name to go along with it and the chance for the future her big brother honestly didn’t think he’d ever have a chance for himself.
“I have – – sources.” Aya said, evasively, admitting grudgingly that he’d flown in the face of his own convictions and not quite severed the link to Aya-chan.
“No. I’m not stupid.” Aya snapped. Of course he wasn’t. If Aya-chan suspected her brother was alive and well, she’d have tried to contact him. The perpetration of some pain and suffering was a must when security was at stake.
“Okay. So – – what’s the problem, other than her acting like a kid who wants a little freedom?”
Aya’s eyes narrowed, not at all appreciating Yoji’s view on the pathos of young adulthood. Aya was all about duty and responsibility. Aya’s views on dropping out of school to party for a semester or so were most probably very dim. “There’s a man. She’s involved with a man.”
Yoji lifted a brow. “So? It happens.”
“So? SO? Not a boy. A man. A man twice her age as happens. A professor.” Aya’s voice rose on each word, until he was practically screaming. Aya didn’t normally scream in the midst of a conversation. Aya’s cheeks were red and his nostrils were flaring, there was enough white around the glittering amethyst of his eyes to make Yoji very, very wary.
“Wow. That’s like really – – wow. A professor? Really? Isn’t that against the rules or something, to date students – – or is that just in highschool. Are University girls fair game?”
Aya started stalking towards him and Yoji held up the magazine in defense, but Aya only leaned past him, plucking up the cigarette and taking a long drag. “I’m going to kill him.”
Anybody else said that, and it would have been taken for the release of frustration that it was. With Aya – – well, Aya didn’t generally voice idle threats. Where Aya-chan was concerned, Aya had a few screws loose, if Yoji was any judge. He’d never get over the need to protect her. He’d more than likely never accept the fact that maybe she didn’t need his protection.
“Now, Aya, calm down. She’s over eighteen now, right, so its not like its some old guy hitting on a school girl in knickers and whatnot – -you need to just chill and think about this.”
Yoji blinked, doing a little mental calculation. “Oh, man, he’s old enough to be my dad and then some. That is sort of robbing the cradle there, not that I’m against older guys and young girls – – I’d want to score some young stuff when I’m that – – ”
“Yoji – – shut up. Don’t make me kill you too.” Aya finished off the smoke and tossed it haphazardly towards the ash tray. It bounced off the side and onto the window cill and he didn’t even blink, which more than anything told just how distracted he was. Aya didn’t abide cigarette butts anywhere but inside the ashtray and even then he tended to dump it obsessively.
Aya was smoking and making a mess and threatening death and mayhem. Aya-chan had messed with the order of his world in a big way. It was bound to happen sooner or later, girls being girls and Aya being Aya.
“If you kill him, baby, she’s going to be upset.”
“Fine. She’ll get over it.”
“It wouldn’t be an approved hit. We’d catch all sorts of shit. Can’t just go around knocking off university professors, you know.”
“Krittiker doesn’t have to know. What ‘we’? I don’t want your help.”
“Oh, baby, do you really think I’d let you run off all half-cocked without me there to back you up?”
“I do not do anything ‘half-cocked’ and don’t call me – – ”
“Listen. Maybe she loves him. Maybe he’s a really good guy. Maybe its not what you think at all and this is completely innocent. Don’t you think you should find out a little more before you get your mind set on taking him out?”
Aya sniffed, not particularly open to suggestions of a rational nature. Yoji wondered if he’d come in here looking for support in his bloody minded rantings of vengeance or if deep down, he had enough sense to seek out a cooler head. After a few more moments contemplation, Yoji seriously began to doubt the latter. There was absolutely no indecisiveness to Aya when he had a cause.
“They’re going to a resort in Switzerland.” Aya said .
“Switzerland? So this guy’s got a little money, to treat his girlfriend to – -”
“Don’t call her that.”
“- – a resort vacation in – – a ski chalet? What? Did your university snitch give you the details?”
Aya folded his arms, probably to keep his hands from fidgeting, ducking his head a little and staring out from under his lashes at nothing in particular. “Yes. I didn’t know she knew how to ski.” There was something stricken in that admission. A sudden, enormous grief over the knowledge that Aya-chan was growing and learning and experiencing a world of new things that her brother could never be a part of.
“She probably doesn’t. When’d she have the time? She’ll take lessons when she gets there.” That was a reasonable assumption. He leaned close, shoulder to shoulder, thinking that if he tried to put an arm around Aya he’d probably get rebuffed – – possibly violently. So he settled for the innocent contact of arm against arm, the brush of warm skin, the tickling of fine arm hair.
Aya sat there for a long moment, lashes lowered, mouth a taut line. Yoji sat next to him and waited, admiring the profile, those incredible cheek bones, the supple curve of his ear lobe with its small, empty earring hole. Lashes thicker than any woman Yoji had ever met – – and he’d met a lot – – resting delicately on pale skin. Yoji started wondering what his chances were of getting Aya’s clothes off.
Low. Definitely low unless there were a great deal of physical violence involved. Or unless he were very, very persuasive. It might be a worthy cause – – getting Aya’s mind of the problem at hand. A challenge. And Yoji was a man who dearly, dearly admired a challenge – – otherwise he never would have gotten as far as he had with his notoriously impersonal teammate.
“You know, any bastard who thinks he can take advantage of an innocent young girl deserves whatever retribution he gets.” Yoji said.
Aya grunted, eyes focused elsewhere, thoughts probably whirling in very deadly circles. “But of course anyone hoping to hand out said retribution would have to be very careful – – so as not to involve the innocent girl. Police questions and all that.”
Aya tilted his head, frowning, obviously not having gotten that far in his machinations yet. He was clearly still stuck in’ kill the defiler’ mode.
Yoji eased a hand up to the small of Aya’s back, a light affirmative touch of the fingers that Aya either didn’t notice or didn’t find issue with. He increased the pressure, rubbing in a circular motion. Aya, he had discovered early on in their odd courtship, was a glutton for physical comfort. Aya liked having things rubbed and kneaded and stroked.
Yoji widened the radius of his circle and Aya’s shoulders slumped just a little, a sure sign that his body was taking note of Yoji’s ministrations, even if his head was somewhere else. Yoji leaned closer, pressing his lips against the curve of Aya’s shoulder inside the loose neck of his shirt. Aya lifted a hand, on the verge of waving him off. Yoji murmured close to his ear.
“It might be better if it was done when she wasn’t around at all – – so there’s no connection.”
More food for thought. Aya put off pushing Yoji away in favor of contemplating that. “I don’t want her going away with him.”
“No – – that would be bad.” Yoji agreed, only half aware of what he was agreeing to, attention quite thoroughly elsewhere. “Very, very bad.” He had one hand up under Aya’s shirt, palm skimming the smooth flesh of Aya’s back, kneading, raking lightly with his nails and making skin pimple under his touch. Aya shuddered a little, eyes flickering to Yoji and actually seeing him for the first time instead of a faceless sounding board for his agitation.
“Yoji – – what – – are – – you – – doing?”
“Ummm – – feeling you up.” Yoji breathed against Aya’s jaw, other hand sliding between Aya’s legs and molding to the outline of his placid organ. That was another thing Aya liked, being stroked through his clothing. The feel of cotton, or denim or silk between his skin and Yoji’s hand.
“Not now.” Aya ground out, but didn’t move to get up or wrench Yoji’s wrist away.
“Why not now?” Yoji slid off the edge of the bed and between Aya’s legs, easing his thighs apart and squirming in close enough to rub his cheek up the length of Aya’s not so soft anymore cock under the layer of sweat pants. Aya made an annoyed sound, but it was plaintive and backed by nothing that threatened to deter Yoji from his goal. He pressed his mouth to the bulge of Aya’s scrotum, darkening the fabric from the wetness of his mouth. He covered the shaft with his palm – – hard strokes up and down the length until Aya groaned and leaned over his head, hands tangling in Yoji’s hair of their own accord, breath hot and labored against Yoji’s scalp.
Hidden by his hair and their relative positions, Yoji grinned. He rolled the top of Aya’s sweats down, revealing the demanding red head of Aya’s cock. Swollen and glistening at the tip with pre-cum, Yoji took it between his lips. Still hidden by cloth, he pinched the base between thumb and forefinger, making Aya catch his breath, making his fingers tighten in Yoji’s hair. Yoji stroked the shaft through the sweats, while he swallowed the head, playing with the folds of flesh with his tongue, savoring the taste that was intrinsically male and uniquely Aya all at the same time. He pulled the pants down further, taking more of the shaft in his mouth. Aya’s hands pressed down, his hips upwards, encouraging, demanding. Yoji’s hands slid around the edges of the sweats, hooking in the waist and tugging them down and out from under Aya’s weight on the bed, baring long, hard thighs. He had to shift backwards a little himself to get them off, but Aya helped with that, kicking them away and pulling Yoji back close between his legs with a death hold on his hair. When Aya wanted – – Aya was insistent and bossy about the matter.
Yoji let Aya slid down his throat, then back up again, sucking methodically at the head before working his way down the underside and down to the base where his hands kneaded Aya’s flushed balls. He nipped at taught flesh and Aya cried out, arching his back and falling back until his shoulders touched the bed, his hands curled in the blankets at the edge.
“Yoji – – -”
“Hummm?” Yoji teased the head with his tongue.
“Don’t – – fuck – – around.”
“Literally?” Yoji paused, forearms braced on Aya’s thighs, chin grazing the base of Aya’s livid erection.
Aya lifted his head and glared down the length of his body. Yoji grinned and licked upwards from balls to head, before getting down to the serious business of making Aya scream.
Aya did, eventually, albeit a cry muffled by Yoji’s pillow. He lay there afterwards, breathing hard, arm hiding his face while he recovered. Yoji climbed back onto the bed and flopped down next to him, itching for a smoke, but reluctant to crawl over Aya to reach the pack on the cill.
“So what if this guy isn’t what you think? What if it’s entirely innocent and you’re overreacting?”
Aya didn’t open his eyes, but his lips tightened.
“Don’t you think Aya-chan deserves a little more credit. She’s not a little girl anymore – – despite what you want to believe.”
“Yoji – – do you want me to return the favor or what?”
“Is that an either or thing? Like me shutting up and getting head or me talking and you taking off?”
Aya’s eyes cracked open and he gave Yoji a look that said it meant just that.
“Oh, man that’s a hard, hard decision.”
Aya arched a brow. His lips were a little red from biting them while he’d endured Yoji’s ministrations. They would look simply lovely wrapped around Yoji’s cock.
“Well, we don’t have to talk about this anymore, now.” Yoji fell to temptation. Aya shifted around, perpendicular to Yoji and flipped over onto his stomach for better access to Yoji’s zipper. Yoji shut his eyes and sighed, already hard enough that it was a relief when Aya released him from the confines of his jeans.
Aya didn’t waste time. And he was good. Yoji propped his head up on a pillow so he could watch himself disappear down the velvety channel of Aya’s warm mouth. His hand idly drifted across the firm flesh of Aya’s exposed ass, skimming between the cleft now and then, making Aya’s teeth clench just a little tighter around his cock. He supposed that even if he wasn’t allowed to talk, that he’d provided Aya with a little time to think things through and maybe come to a more rational conclusion than running out and killing a man. Or trying. Really, they couldn’t just let him go and do it. It would piss off the wrong people and get them all in hot water. So it had to be prevented, one way or another. Preferably by Aya coming seeing reason. But of course, that wasn’t always a sure thing.
For a few moments thoughts fled Yoji’s head, and body overcame mind. He shuddered and spurted and afterwards Aya turned and spat and wiped a hand across the back of his mouth, not quite as willing to swallow as Yoji. Yoji smiled down at him, blissfully content for the moment.
“Pass me a smoke, would you, baby.”
Aya rolled and reached behind him for the pack. Yoji lit up and took a drag.
“So – – second thoughts?” Yoji asked hopefully.
“No,” Aya said without hesitation, bending down to reach for his pants. “He’s a dead man.”