Weiss Kreuz, "Why Assassins Shouldn't Bond," Youji/Aya, NC-17
This story is what I call a "quick-fuck" because it was inspired by a comic done by Ran, which can be found here, third one down. Not very original, but fun nonetheless.
Why Assassins Shouldn’t Bond
by Mistress Quickly
For Ran, whose three-panel doujinshi strip is absolutely adorable and inspiring, and especially for Lady Gackt, whose wonderful website would undoubtedly garner such a reaction out of the Weiss boys, were they ever to stumble across it ...
Just as it usually happens with memorable events in my life, it was a normal night; as normal as things ever were for us in the chaos and confusion that followed Kritiker’s collapse. We’d adjusted rockily into ‘normal life’: Ken took over management of the Koneko from Momoe-san, which pleased her to no end, and as his first action as official owner, hired Omi to work part-time after school, handling deliveries and fending off amorous schoolgirls. Omi enrolled full-time in high school and started dating Sakura, who was crushed when Ran finally flat-out rejected her.
Ran and I continued to live with Ken and Omi in the apartments above the Koneko-more out of convenience and a need for familiarity than anything else-and together revived my Private Investigator career. It was very, very hard at first, working with Ran as though he were ‘replacing’ Asuka, but he understood and helped me through it, taking no offense at my moodswings; calming me through my nightmares, both waking and sleeping.
Aya enrolled in the same school as Omi and figured out, somehow, on her third night living with the four of us that Ran and I were lovers. How she managed that, when Omi and Ken hadn’t noticed in the year and a half we’d been together, is beyond me, unless Ran had confided in her before the ‘accident,’ as they call it, that he was gay. In that case, I suppose it would be easy enough to figure out, but neither of them will tell me if that’s how she knew, so I’m left to wonder.
Anyway, not a particularly unusual evening in any way that I can find. Omi on the computer, surfing the internet and chatting with Sakura. Aya upstairs working on a painting for her art class. Ken, Ran, and I squashed together on the couch watching Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle again, because Ken and I agree that it’s the best movie ever made, and Ran’s still here because I bullied him into ‘bonding with the guys’ instead of sneaking upstairs to read a book while Aya paints, like he usually does.
We’d just gotten to the bit with the cheetah-my favorite part-when Omi gasped loudly and started bawling with laugher, doubled-over with his hands clutching at his sides. Something funnier than a stoned cheetah had to be pretty damned funny, I decided in all my great wisdom, so I wrestled the remote away from Ken and paused the movie, declaring that Omi must be surfing porn, and I wanted to see the boobs (making a none-too-subtle suggestion that the kind of porn Omi would be likely to surf would have more balls than boobs). That’s the great thing about being gay when no one else knows that you’re gay: you can make jokes like that and not feel guilty about it. Well, I don’t feel guilty anyway.
So I get up and go over to tease Omi, who’s stopped laughing and looks horrified at my suggestion about his sexuality. Why do straight guys-especially the ones who’ve got girlfriends-stress about people thinking they’re gay? Ran gets off the couch when I do, glaring and probably thinking he can sneak off to read his book while I’m distracted picking on Omi. I grab the sleeve of his sweater-the hideous orange one he wears simply because it’s so damn comfy (I know because he let me borrow it once)-and drag him over to the computer, intent on preventing his escape as long as possible. He growls at me, but doesn’t resist. I lean heavily on the back of Omi’s swivel chair, making a comment along the lines of “Whatcha got there, Omittchi?”
“I’m not gay, Youji-kun,” he whines at me, shooting me a glare he must have learned from Ran, before turning back to the computer screen. “Anyway, Sakura found this really interesting site online. Said there was a fan club devoted to the four of us and the Koneko, and on its website was a nice picture of us that someone drew.”
That’s not funnier than a stoned cheetah, by any stretch of the imagination. I feel a tug where my hand is still clamped on the sleeve of the orange sweater and tighten my grip.
“So you distracted me from my movie because someone’s drawing pictures of us?” I ask, trying to get him to decide for me if I should smack him and go back to surreptitiously fondling Ran while watching my movie, or stick around and see this picture.
“Kind of,” he answers, squirming. “It’s someone’s ... fantasy world, or something. Not a serious picture.”
Vague. I get a mental image of the four of us drawn to look like heroes from Final Fantasy or something, all leather and buckles and swords and wings. Not funny, in the slightest, and definitely not funnier than a cheetah that’s been smoking marijuana. I growl at Omi and tug back when the sweater registers its complaint against being restrained.
“That doesn’t sound very funny, Omittchi,” I inform him.
The computer beeps, indicating that Sakura has messaged the chibi. //So did they like the pic?// reads her question in purple flowery font. Ick, girls. Give me women or give me Ran, but keep flowery, frilly girls at arm’s length, at least. In the back of my mind, I can hear the giggles from the Fan Club, and shiver in revulsion. Omi shoots me a glance and types back: //You really think I should show them?// Dark blue font, all-caps, very un-frilly. Good boy, Omi.
The sweater is trying to escape in earnest now, so I up the ante and take a bony elbow prisoner as well. I get a snarl for my troubles and decide to high-pressure the kid.
“Don’t argue with Sakura, Omi, it just makes her annoying when you do that. Well, more annoying than usual, anyway. Show me the damn picture already.”
That works. Offended by the slur on his girlfriend, Omi gets a mischievous glint in his eye and clicks on the picture where he’s minimized it on his desktop. It fills the screen, and it takes me a minute to wrap my brain around what my eyes are telling me we’re seeing.
YAOI. Good old-fashioned hardcore YAOI. Sakura’s been looking at it, and has sent it to Omi, who’s been looking at it, who’s now gotten my attention, so I’m looking at it, and from the press of Ran’s elbow bones in the palm of my hand, I figure he’s over here on my account and he’s looking at it. Good heaven, I need a drink.
Whoever the artist is, she’s not bad. Talented, actually, if the subject matter weren’t so controversial. The flowershop is closed for the evening (the sign’s hanging on the door and the shutter’s closed), and Omi’s flattened up against one of the delivery coolers, head thrown back eyes squeezed shut in what looks disturbingly like ecstasy, while Ken’s kneeling in the floor, naked as the day he was born, with Omi’s cock in his throat and his hand on Omi’s balls. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Ran’s drawn sprawled out on his back on the workbench, hands tied over his head with what is supposed to be curling ribbon, and I’m leaning over him, fucking him. I’m drawn with my shirt off, but my jeans are still on me, pushed messily down to my knees. The drawing of him has got a look of intensity on his face so closely accurate to what he really looks like when I’m fucking him that it makes me shiver.
*We’ve never done that in the flowershop before,* my brain informs me helpfully, *and we’ve certainly never used the ribbon like that. It’d be kind of nice, fucking him like that, all tied and vulnerable in a risky place like the middle of the Koneko ...*
There’s a thump beside me where Ken’s hit the floor. I don’t think he expected to see his best friend looking at porn, let alone porn that involves him giving said best friend a blowjob. Or, maybe it’s seeing me fucking Ran that’s got him all upset; I don’t know.
I tug on the bony elbow in my hand and spin Ran around, pressing him up against me. In my deepest, throatiest voice, I murmur: “That gives me ‘ideas’ ...” then bend down and kiss Ran as deeply as his teeth allow, teasing him until he opens his mouth and gives in, kissing me back. He’d been wanting to come out, at least to Omi and Ken, for quite some time, not liking the feeling of dishonesty it gave him to be sleeping with me when our former teammates didn’t even know we were involved, but he’d always been too shy to do anything about it. Perfect opportunity, and quite a nice way to get his wish, if I may evaluate the kiss myself. Ken groans from the floor, as though the YAOI won’t leave him alone, even when he’s not looking at the computer. Omi looks down at him and shrugs; what exactly can he say in such a situation? One could argue that it was all his fault that the two of them were sitting there, watching me kiss Ran breathless; I think keeping his mouth shut was the smartest thing the chibi had done all day.
“Oh would you two cut that out,” is the first indication any of us has that Aya has come downstairs to investigate the laughter/gasping/growling/threatening/lack of Harold and Kumar she’s undoubtedly heard in the quiet of the main room upstairs. She glares playfully at us from the stairs, arms crossed over her chest. Ken looks at her and says something intelligent to the effect of “Uh?” Her glare melts into a smile and she rolls her eyes.
“You guys didn’t know about them?” she asks, her voice coy and taunting. “Jeez, you’re dumb. So what’s got them all inspired?” She’s five steps from the computer now; Ken looks horrified, and Omi looks like he’s torn between unplugging the computer to hide the pic, and showing it to her, just to see her reaction. The devil in him wins out; he leans back and points at the screen.
Just as my eyes did, her eyes go first to the depiction of Ken and Omi, earning a raised eyebrow in Ken’s direction and a “Wow, Omi, what would Sakura think?” aimed at the grinning blonde. He tells her that Sakura sent him the link in the first place, and she laughs. Inside joke, probably, meant to be understood by YAOI fangirls and their poor abused boyfriends. Her eyes land on the depiction of me fucking Ran senseless on the workbench, and she stops laughing. She turns to Omi with what can only be described as a ‘shi-ne’ glare and smacks him hard across the shoulder.
“Omi! That’s my brother, for fuck’s sake!” she shrieks. “What on earth makes you think I’d want to see that? Eeewwwww!” It’s not exactly like I’ve gotten to exact my revenge on her for laughing at us and distracting her brother from kissing me, but it’s enough revenge to satisfy me. I’m not sure I’m man enough to take any other kind of revenge on Ran’s precious sister, anyway.
“You asked,” Omi pouts, rubbing his shoulder.
“And you should have known better than to tell!” she retorts hotly, smacking him again, this time across the head. She leans across his body and types furiously to Sakura:
//WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, SENDING PICTURES LIKE THAT OF MY BROTHER. GROSS!!!//
//Hi, Aya,// comes the response. //You said he and Youji were gay; I thought it’d be funny to freak Omi out with the pic of himself and Ken. No offense intended, Love.//
//Omi and Ken didn’t know Ran and Youji were gay,// Aya types back. //Way to ‘out’ them.//
//LOL,// comes back from Sakura, and I’m done watching them type. Damn frilly girls and their ‘LOL’ nonsense. Yeah, I had to Google that one after I saw Omi type it for the first time. Thought it was ‘lots of laughs’ until I found a site that set me straight.
LOL my ass.
I grin at Omi and Aya, then pull Ran to me, grinding against him a little, still too drunk with the novelty of the situation to remember what ‘shi-ne’ means when it’s growled by my delectable, notoriously grumpy boyfriend.
“Wanna try that out, Love? Omi’s practically planning our night for us; can’t offend him by ignoring such a tremendous favor, now can we?” I purr, smirking at the sound of Ken gasping and Omi hitting his knee as he whirls around in his swivel chair to face the computer. Not that it does him any good; instead of seeing us clothed and cuddling, he sees a drawing of us naked and fucking. He growls at the screen and closes the image window.
“Hey Ken, c’mere a minute,” Aya says, her voice lower than usual, which normally means she’s in a dangerous mood. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ken stand up, still a little shaky, and shoot a worried glance towards me and Ran. I leer and him and grab Ran’s ass. Yeah, yeah, ‘shi-ne’ yourself Baby.
“Got a surprise for y’all,” Aya purrs, doing a damned good imitation of my sultry purr, if I may evaluate such things. And then, without warning, she grabs Ken and kisses him, just as hard and passionate and-for want of better word-tongue-y as the kiss I just gave Ran and subjected the others to witnessing. Now, instead of holding onto Ran to keep him pressed up against me, I find myself holding him as tightly as I can to keep him from killing Ken with his bare hands.
“RAN, NO!” I shout, catching him around his bony hips just in time and reeling him in. “You don’t have your sword, and you’re no good at strangling people.”
Ken senses immediate danger and breaks the kiss, intent on fleeing the room and taking Aya with him, probably to protect her. What it looks like, though, to an overly protective brother, is Ken turning and escaping, dragging Aya behind him, probably to lock her in his room and ravage her. I didn’t say that’s what I thought was going on, mind you; I’m pretty sure that’s what it looked like to Ran.
Aya sees her brother’s face and sticks out her foot, tripping Ken and sending him flying backwards to the floor, tumbling down with him. She’s laughing breathlessly when she sits up, straddling Ken’s legs backwards so he can’t see her face and she can see us. She winks at me and Ran, then wiggles her hips.
“Thought if you two were going to go public with your relationship, Ken and I should be free to do the same,” she says sweetly, knowing full-well that this news won’t be taken as lightly by her brother as she makes it seem he should. “And no, before you start shouting and trying to carve Ken like a pumpkin, we’re not having sex. On the worktable or anywhere else, although that is Ken’s worktable, now that he owns the Koneko, and you ought to ask permission before you use it.” I can’t see Ran’s face, but I know he’s blushing horribly all the same. Omi laughs softly, telling us that he’s not as engrossed in whatever he’s doing online as he’d have us believe.
“Ken,” Ran growls, struggling against me once again. “I will kill you for this.”
“I know,” Ken answers, still flattened under Aya.
“No, you won’t,” Aya tells Ran, glaring.
“I know,” Ran answers, slumping.
“But he’ll try,” I chime in, wiggling my crotch against his ass.
“I know,” Aya giggles, wiggling her butt against Ken’s crotch.
That grosses me out enough to let go of Ran and contemplate washing my eyes with bleach. Aya’s like a kid sister to me, probably because I hang out with Ran too much, and the thought of her butt having anything to do with Ken’s crotch is traumatizing, to say the least. Ran walks over to them, more calmly than I would have thought him capable, and holds out his hand, helping Aya to her feet. My guess is he can’t stand the thought of them being sexual any more than I can; or any more than Aya can stand looking at picture of me fucking Ran into oblivion, for that matter. She smoothes down her t-shirt and helps Ken to his feet.
“I’m going to get back to my painting now, if you four are done being entertaining,” she says, giving Ran a cheeky smile.
“I’m going with you,” Ken tells her, shooting Ran a worried look.
“If you touch my sister ...” Ran starts, but Aya laughs.
“Too late for that, onii-chan, and guess what? I’ve touched him too. Ha!” And with that, she grabs Ken’s hand and flees the room, dragging her petrified-looking boyfriend behind her.
I catch Ran around his skinny hipbones yet again and whisper in his ear: “They won’t do anything upstairs where they could get caught, and I can pick the lock to either of their bedrooms if they think about sneaking off.” That gets him to relax a fraction of a degree, but not enough for my purposes. “Think maybe we could sneak into the shop for a bit? I’d like to see how accurate our little artist fangirl was in her portrayal of us.”
Ran growls, but when he stalks away, he grabs his keys to the shop, so I follow, chuckling to myself. Florists’ ribbon always seemed overrated to me, when I was forced to fight with the stuff, tying it around arrangements and vases and what-have-you, but right now, I can’t imagine anything better to go with Ran’s perfect pale skin. As I leave the room, I pause and wink at Omi, who shakes his head and tries to disappear into the computer screen. The sound of keys clacking rhythmically as he talks to Sakura is the last thing I hear before the door shuts, and I can only imagine what he’s saying to her.
My mind’s in the gutter, as usual, so I’m thinking it’s something to the effect of: //Well, that got rid of them. Wanna have c-sex now?//, but that’s a disturbing thought, so I discard it quickly and hurry off to the shop to see if red or blue ribbon looks better with Ran’s coloring ...
Why Assassins Shouldn’t Bond
by Mistress Quickly
For Ran, whose three-panel doujinshi strip is absolutely adorable and inspiring, and especially for Lady Gackt, whose wonderful website would undoubtedly garner such a reaction out of the Weiss boys, were they ever to stumble across it ...
Just as it usually happens with memorable events in my life, it was a normal night; as normal as things ever were for us in the chaos and confusion that followed Kritiker’s collapse. We’d adjusted rockily into ‘normal life’: Ken took over management of the Koneko from Momoe-san, which pleased her to no end, and as his first action as official owner, hired Omi to work part-time after school, handling deliveries and fending off amorous schoolgirls. Omi enrolled full-time in high school and started dating Sakura, who was crushed when Ran finally flat-out rejected her.
Ran and I continued to live with Ken and Omi in the apartments above the Koneko-more out of convenience and a need for familiarity than anything else-and together revived my Private Investigator career. It was very, very hard at first, working with Ran as though he were ‘replacing’ Asuka, but he understood and helped me through it, taking no offense at my moodswings; calming me through my nightmares, both waking and sleeping.
Aya enrolled in the same school as Omi and figured out, somehow, on her third night living with the four of us that Ran and I were lovers. How she managed that, when Omi and Ken hadn’t noticed in the year and a half we’d been together, is beyond me, unless Ran had confided in her before the ‘accident,’ as they call it, that he was gay. In that case, I suppose it would be easy enough to figure out, but neither of them will tell me if that’s how she knew, so I’m left to wonder.
Anyway, not a particularly unusual evening in any way that I can find. Omi on the computer, surfing the internet and chatting with Sakura. Aya upstairs working on a painting for her art class. Ken, Ran, and I squashed together on the couch watching Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle again, because Ken and I agree that it’s the best movie ever made, and Ran’s still here because I bullied him into ‘bonding with the guys’ instead of sneaking upstairs to read a book while Aya paints, like he usually does.
We’d just gotten to the bit with the cheetah-my favorite part-when Omi gasped loudly and started bawling with laugher, doubled-over with his hands clutching at his sides. Something funnier than a stoned cheetah had to be pretty damned funny, I decided in all my great wisdom, so I wrestled the remote away from Ken and paused the movie, declaring that Omi must be surfing porn, and I wanted to see the boobs (making a none-too-subtle suggestion that the kind of porn Omi would be likely to surf would have more balls than boobs). That’s the great thing about being gay when no one else knows that you’re gay: you can make jokes like that and not feel guilty about it. Well, I don’t feel guilty anyway.
So I get up and go over to tease Omi, who’s stopped laughing and looks horrified at my suggestion about his sexuality. Why do straight guys-especially the ones who’ve got girlfriends-stress about people thinking they’re gay? Ran gets off the couch when I do, glaring and probably thinking he can sneak off to read his book while I’m distracted picking on Omi. I grab the sleeve of his sweater-the hideous orange one he wears simply because it’s so damn comfy (I know because he let me borrow it once)-and drag him over to the computer, intent on preventing his escape as long as possible. He growls at me, but doesn’t resist. I lean heavily on the back of Omi’s swivel chair, making a comment along the lines of “Whatcha got there, Omittchi?”
“I’m not gay, Youji-kun,” he whines at me, shooting me a glare he must have learned from Ran, before turning back to the computer screen. “Anyway, Sakura found this really interesting site online. Said there was a fan club devoted to the four of us and the Koneko, and on its website was a nice picture of us that someone drew.”
That’s not funnier than a stoned cheetah, by any stretch of the imagination. I feel a tug where my hand is still clamped on the sleeve of the orange sweater and tighten my grip.
“So you distracted me from my movie because someone’s drawing pictures of us?” I ask, trying to get him to decide for me if I should smack him and go back to surreptitiously fondling Ran while watching my movie, or stick around and see this picture.
“Kind of,” he answers, squirming. “It’s someone’s ... fantasy world, or something. Not a serious picture.”
Vague. I get a mental image of the four of us drawn to look like heroes from Final Fantasy or something, all leather and buckles and swords and wings. Not funny, in the slightest, and definitely not funnier than a cheetah that’s been smoking marijuana. I growl at Omi and tug back when the sweater registers its complaint against being restrained.
“That doesn’t sound very funny, Omittchi,” I inform him.
The computer beeps, indicating that Sakura has messaged the chibi. //So did they like the pic?// reads her question in purple flowery font. Ick, girls. Give me women or give me Ran, but keep flowery, frilly girls at arm’s length, at least. In the back of my mind, I can hear the giggles from the Fan Club, and shiver in revulsion. Omi shoots me a glance and types back: //You really think I should show them?// Dark blue font, all-caps, very un-frilly. Good boy, Omi.
The sweater is trying to escape in earnest now, so I up the ante and take a bony elbow prisoner as well. I get a snarl for my troubles and decide to high-pressure the kid.
“Don’t argue with Sakura, Omi, it just makes her annoying when you do that. Well, more annoying than usual, anyway. Show me the damn picture already.”
That works. Offended by the slur on his girlfriend, Omi gets a mischievous glint in his eye and clicks on the picture where he’s minimized it on his desktop. It fills the screen, and it takes me a minute to wrap my brain around what my eyes are telling me we’re seeing.
YAOI. Good old-fashioned hardcore YAOI. Sakura’s been looking at it, and has sent it to Omi, who’s been looking at it, who’s now gotten my attention, so I’m looking at it, and from the press of Ran’s elbow bones in the palm of my hand, I figure he’s over here on my account and he’s looking at it. Good heaven, I need a drink.
Whoever the artist is, she’s not bad. Talented, actually, if the subject matter weren’t so controversial. The flowershop is closed for the evening (the sign’s hanging on the door and the shutter’s closed), and Omi’s flattened up against one of the delivery coolers, head thrown back eyes squeezed shut in what looks disturbingly like ecstasy, while Ken’s kneeling in the floor, naked as the day he was born, with Omi’s cock in his throat and his hand on Omi’s balls. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Ran’s drawn sprawled out on his back on the workbench, hands tied over his head with what is supposed to be curling ribbon, and I’m leaning over him, fucking him. I’m drawn with my shirt off, but my jeans are still on me, pushed messily down to my knees. The drawing of him has got a look of intensity on his face so closely accurate to what he really looks like when I’m fucking him that it makes me shiver.
*We’ve never done that in the flowershop before,* my brain informs me helpfully, *and we’ve certainly never used the ribbon like that. It’d be kind of nice, fucking him like that, all tied and vulnerable in a risky place like the middle of the Koneko ...*
There’s a thump beside me where Ken’s hit the floor. I don’t think he expected to see his best friend looking at porn, let alone porn that involves him giving said best friend a blowjob. Or, maybe it’s seeing me fucking Ran that’s got him all upset; I don’t know.
I tug on the bony elbow in my hand and spin Ran around, pressing him up against me. In my deepest, throatiest voice, I murmur: “That gives me ‘ideas’ ...” then bend down and kiss Ran as deeply as his teeth allow, teasing him until he opens his mouth and gives in, kissing me back. He’d been wanting to come out, at least to Omi and Ken, for quite some time, not liking the feeling of dishonesty it gave him to be sleeping with me when our former teammates didn’t even know we were involved, but he’d always been too shy to do anything about it. Perfect opportunity, and quite a nice way to get his wish, if I may evaluate the kiss myself. Ken groans from the floor, as though the YAOI won’t leave him alone, even when he’s not looking at the computer. Omi looks down at him and shrugs; what exactly can he say in such a situation? One could argue that it was all his fault that the two of them were sitting there, watching me kiss Ran breathless; I think keeping his mouth shut was the smartest thing the chibi had done all day.
“Oh would you two cut that out,” is the first indication any of us has that Aya has come downstairs to investigate the laughter/gasping/growling/threatening/lack of Harold and Kumar she’s undoubtedly heard in the quiet of the main room upstairs. She glares playfully at us from the stairs, arms crossed over her chest. Ken looks at her and says something intelligent to the effect of “Uh?” Her glare melts into a smile and she rolls her eyes.
“You guys didn’t know about them?” she asks, her voice coy and taunting. “Jeez, you’re dumb. So what’s got them all inspired?” She’s five steps from the computer now; Ken looks horrified, and Omi looks like he’s torn between unplugging the computer to hide the pic, and showing it to her, just to see her reaction. The devil in him wins out; he leans back and points at the screen.
Just as my eyes did, her eyes go first to the depiction of Ken and Omi, earning a raised eyebrow in Ken’s direction and a “Wow, Omi, what would Sakura think?” aimed at the grinning blonde. He tells her that Sakura sent him the link in the first place, and she laughs. Inside joke, probably, meant to be understood by YAOI fangirls and their poor abused boyfriends. Her eyes land on the depiction of me fucking Ran senseless on the workbench, and she stops laughing. She turns to Omi with what can only be described as a ‘shi-ne’ glare and smacks him hard across the shoulder.
“Omi! That’s my brother, for fuck’s sake!” she shrieks. “What on earth makes you think I’d want to see that? Eeewwwww!” It’s not exactly like I’ve gotten to exact my revenge on her for laughing at us and distracting her brother from kissing me, but it’s enough revenge to satisfy me. I’m not sure I’m man enough to take any other kind of revenge on Ran’s precious sister, anyway.
“You asked,” Omi pouts, rubbing his shoulder.
“And you should have known better than to tell!” she retorts hotly, smacking him again, this time across the head. She leans across his body and types furiously to Sakura:
//WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, SENDING PICTURES LIKE THAT OF MY BROTHER. GROSS!!!//
//Hi, Aya,// comes the response. //You said he and Youji were gay; I thought it’d be funny to freak Omi out with the pic of himself and Ken. No offense intended, Love.//
//Omi and Ken didn’t know Ran and Youji were gay,// Aya types back. //Way to ‘out’ them.//
//LOL,// comes back from Sakura, and I’m done watching them type. Damn frilly girls and their ‘LOL’ nonsense. Yeah, I had to Google that one after I saw Omi type it for the first time. Thought it was ‘lots of laughs’ until I found a site that set me straight.
LOL my ass.
I grin at Omi and Aya, then pull Ran to me, grinding against him a little, still too drunk with the novelty of the situation to remember what ‘shi-ne’ means when it’s growled by my delectable, notoriously grumpy boyfriend.
“Wanna try that out, Love? Omi’s practically planning our night for us; can’t offend him by ignoring such a tremendous favor, now can we?” I purr, smirking at the sound of Ken gasping and Omi hitting his knee as he whirls around in his swivel chair to face the computer. Not that it does him any good; instead of seeing us clothed and cuddling, he sees a drawing of us naked and fucking. He growls at the screen and closes the image window.
“Hey Ken, c’mere a minute,” Aya says, her voice lower than usual, which normally means she’s in a dangerous mood. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ken stand up, still a little shaky, and shoot a worried glance towards me and Ran. I leer and him and grab Ran’s ass. Yeah, yeah, ‘shi-ne’ yourself Baby.
“Got a surprise for y’all,” Aya purrs, doing a damned good imitation of my sultry purr, if I may evaluate such things. And then, without warning, she grabs Ken and kisses him, just as hard and passionate and-for want of better word-tongue-y as the kiss I just gave Ran and subjected the others to witnessing. Now, instead of holding onto Ran to keep him pressed up against me, I find myself holding him as tightly as I can to keep him from killing Ken with his bare hands.
“RAN, NO!” I shout, catching him around his bony hips just in time and reeling him in. “You don’t have your sword, and you’re no good at strangling people.”
Ken senses immediate danger and breaks the kiss, intent on fleeing the room and taking Aya with him, probably to protect her. What it looks like, though, to an overly protective brother, is Ken turning and escaping, dragging Aya behind him, probably to lock her in his room and ravage her. I didn’t say that’s what I thought was going on, mind you; I’m pretty sure that’s what it looked like to Ran.
Aya sees her brother’s face and sticks out her foot, tripping Ken and sending him flying backwards to the floor, tumbling down with him. She’s laughing breathlessly when she sits up, straddling Ken’s legs backwards so he can’t see her face and she can see us. She winks at me and Ran, then wiggles her hips.
“Thought if you two were going to go public with your relationship, Ken and I should be free to do the same,” she says sweetly, knowing full-well that this news won’t be taken as lightly by her brother as she makes it seem he should. “And no, before you start shouting and trying to carve Ken like a pumpkin, we’re not having sex. On the worktable or anywhere else, although that is Ken’s worktable, now that he owns the Koneko, and you ought to ask permission before you use it.” I can’t see Ran’s face, but I know he’s blushing horribly all the same. Omi laughs softly, telling us that he’s not as engrossed in whatever he’s doing online as he’d have us believe.
“Ken,” Ran growls, struggling against me once again. “I will kill you for this.”
“I know,” Ken answers, still flattened under Aya.
“No, you won’t,” Aya tells Ran, glaring.
“I know,” Ran answers, slumping.
“But he’ll try,” I chime in, wiggling my crotch against his ass.
“I know,” Aya giggles, wiggling her butt against Ken’s crotch.
That grosses me out enough to let go of Ran and contemplate washing my eyes with bleach. Aya’s like a kid sister to me, probably because I hang out with Ran too much, and the thought of her butt having anything to do with Ken’s crotch is traumatizing, to say the least. Ran walks over to them, more calmly than I would have thought him capable, and holds out his hand, helping Aya to her feet. My guess is he can’t stand the thought of them being sexual any more than I can; or any more than Aya can stand looking at picture of me fucking Ran into oblivion, for that matter. She smoothes down her t-shirt and helps Ken to his feet.
“I’m going to get back to my painting now, if you four are done being entertaining,” she says, giving Ran a cheeky smile.
“I’m going with you,” Ken tells her, shooting Ran a worried look.
“If you touch my sister ...” Ran starts, but Aya laughs.
“Too late for that, onii-chan, and guess what? I’ve touched him too. Ha!” And with that, she grabs Ken’s hand and flees the room, dragging her petrified-looking boyfriend behind her.
I catch Ran around his skinny hipbones yet again and whisper in his ear: “They won’t do anything upstairs where they could get caught, and I can pick the lock to either of their bedrooms if they think about sneaking off.” That gets him to relax a fraction of a degree, but not enough for my purposes. “Think maybe we could sneak into the shop for a bit? I’d like to see how accurate our little artist fangirl was in her portrayal of us.”
Ran growls, but when he stalks away, he grabs his keys to the shop, so I follow, chuckling to myself. Florists’ ribbon always seemed overrated to me, when I was forced to fight with the stuff, tying it around arrangements and vases and what-have-you, but right now, I can’t imagine anything better to go with Ran’s perfect pale skin. As I leave the room, I pause and wink at Omi, who shakes his head and tries to disappear into the computer screen. The sound of keys clacking rhythmically as he talks to Sakura is the last thing I hear before the door shuts, and I can only imagine what he’s saying to her.
My mind’s in the gutter, as usual, so I’m thinking it’s something to the effect of: //Well, that got rid of them. Wanna have c-sex now?//, but that’s a disturbing thought, so I discard it quickly and hurry off to the shop to see if red or blue ribbon looks better with Ran’s coloring ...