II.

It was what he had wanted, yet it was absolutely not. Omi sobbed silently while smearing soap over his treacherously sated limbs. dried flakes of semen peeled of his body together with sugar and old sweat. He wondered if Aya had been there too, in the same shower, getting rid of his remains...he dared a look at the blue laundry basket and was correct: The white stained black sweater was there. Lying on top of the pile of dirty clothes from yesterday's mission. It was Aya's turn to go through them, remove and get rid of everything with blood on it, Omi wondered if that would be the fate of the black sweater as well...

He knew Aya thought he'd done him a favor. Knew...that his intentions had been strangely unselfish for Aya-kun, but still the passionate violence, the fire of the act had taken Omi aback...his dignity was bruised somehow, - yet he couldn't figure exactly how...Had he expected Aya to love him? If so he'd been a fool. He'd gotten more than he had ever hoped for...He should've been pleasantly surprised. Not bitter, and somewhat hurt, like he felt now. Maybe it was because he'd felt so fragile. So utterly exposed there, at Aya's mercy on the kitchen table.

He filled his palm with shampoo, the bitter taste in his mouth wouldn't go away. He wondered if things would've been different if Aya had known about his crush on him. Maybe he would have left him alone then. Maybe none of it would've happened...Not that it hadn't been good, it had been great. It was Aya, - Aya doing very sexy things to him, - kissing him...Things he wasn't sure he'd thought Aya even capable of...and then he had turned his stubborn back at him and left. Omi had staggered to his room, crawled under the covers of his bed - just lying there, shaking, for almost an hour. He wondered if he'd had some kind of shock reaction. His body hadn't stopped trembling before he stood under the warm water of the shower. He had to change bed linens as well, he reminded himself. There were spots and stains of lemon and other juices on the old ones now...

He examined his body slowly, tried to feel where it hurt, where sore spots of purplish red marred his skin, where Aya had marked him, left his fingerprints on the pale surface. They were many, starting behind Omi's right ear, ending up by the base of his cock. He felt a faint stirring by the thought, the memory of the feel...the sex. It had been good, yes it had. It had been delightful, - but somehow, despite his feelings- or maybe because of them, he wished it had been someone else, not Aya...because Aya's act of mercy, his casualness had done nothing but confirm what Omi had known all along: Aya was way not available.

While rinsing off he felt a sudden urge to talk to the older man - explain, smooth things over perhaps...not that Aya hadn't done his best to do that and done a fine job too but...- A sudden flash of anger flared through him! How could he treat him like that?! Just flung him across the table like a rag-doll, a piece of meat...Even if he thought he did it for Omi's own good. It was rude and it was thoughtless and showed no respect for Omi's feelings...just because he was cold, didn't mean that everyone else was...

Stepping out of the shower he grabbed a towel from the hanger and realized it was wet...Aya, he thought. Aya had been using it. He quickly killed off the pang of longing and dropped the wet cloth to the floor. Gave the blue fabric a evil glare before finding a new, dry one - he wrapped it securely around his waist and crossed the hall to his room. The familiar hum of the computer welcomed him and he would've been able to act as if nothing had happened at all, if it hadn't been for the faint smell of citrus from his bed sheets lingering in the room. Omi changed them mechanically, deliberately not thinking. The smell of lemons made him feel slightly sick now, he'd had too much of it for one day and hadn't really decided how to deal yet...what he was to feel about the whole affair. The sex had been great though, he admitted to himself again. Best thing ever...but left an achingly empty hole in his chest. But then again...what could he expect? They were assassins...killers...and Aya the coldest, most ruthless of them all. Omi disposed of his sheets, leaving them in the hallway for now, he was usually Mr.. Tidy so nobody would dare to complain.

He slumped back down on his bed. His eyes gazed at the ceiling, but what he really thought about, the only thing he could see was him...dark red hair and hooded purple, those strong fingers wrapped around his own aching cock. the feel of the earring, the cold metal that slowly stole his warmth and became a pleasant drop of smooth and nice on his skin. Omi was shivering again...- Would he have done it all over again? Maybe, if he'd been prepared...Omi sighed. It had taken him by surprise the whole night, how it had unfolded. Unconsciously he rubbed his left nipple, thought about the sticky strand of semen that had hit it. Aya's semen...Aya's cum, on his body...His member stiffened a bit and Omi rolled over on his side. Wondered if he'd get any sleep at all tonight. Sighing loudly he sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes. He didn't feel so miserable anymore but was still annoyed with Aya. His thoughtlessness, had he , - even for a moment thought of the possibility, that Omi perhaps was in love with him, not just after a quick release...?
But what was he after? He asked himself. Aya's body? Aya's mind? - A closeness? Union? Love?...

Omi was not a child, nor a teenager, not like the rest anyway. He was a trained killer and strategist. Cold and ruthless when he had to...was he even capable of love? Was Aya?

As the adult he claimed to be, Omi put on a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt reading "no peak, no point, no purpose" in multicolored letters and stepped out in the hallway. He knocked on Aya's door and opened it slowly when he heard Aya grunt on the other side.

"Omi," Aya looked up from the magazine he was reading, he was in bed and the only source of light was that on his bed stand. He didn't sound surprised.

"Hi," Omi tried to smile. Brushed the hair from his eyes. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. Crossed his arms over his chest. Felt surprisingly secure in that moment. Level-headed and clear...Much more so than he thought he would be.

"Sure..." The purple gaze held mild curiosity when he closed the magazine and let it drop to the floor.

" I'm not a child!" It stumbled out of Omi's mouth before he had a chance to stop it. "I mean...I don't need...rescuing!" he tried to explain, hoped that the other man would get his meaning.

"What do you mean?" To Omi's disappointment he could see Aya's eyes glaze over. Become harder, sharper, under his thick, black lashes.

Omi swallowed hard and fought the urge to escape. Turn around and walk out the door, close it and don't look back. At the same time he felt himself being mesmerized by Aya's beauty again. Something with that man just made him freeze, made him want to stop and stare. Never take his eyes off him. Like now, captured by that marble skin set with deep shadows and at last a good look at those nipples and that chest he'd been yearning so to see, dark peaks on the smooth skin now, bathed in the dim light. And his arms, Omi's body stirred faintly by the sight. Well muscled and lovely shaped...so much power in the arms of a swordsman...but this was, of course, not why he'd come. He forced his stray thoughts to gather and tried for something coherent. Met the stern expression on Aya's face without flinching, he hoped. He wet his lips nervously;

"I appreciate what you did for me downstairs," he began. "But I'm really not a silly boy just...falling prey to hormones," he explained in a low voice.

"Wasn't it enough?" Aya suddenly asked. Caught Omi by surprise again, threw him off his carefully chosen path of procedure. "Do you want more?" Aya continued in a neutral voice. His eyes measured Omi questionably. No malice in there, no cruel intentions.

"M-more?" Omi stammered, cursed Aya and the fact that he could so easily throw him off. Make him insecure.

" Did you want to fuck?" Aya asked him from the bed, eyes narrowing slightly. But he didn't seem threatening, just...not shy, Omi realized.

"No!" he almost cried. "That's not why I'm here, i just wanted to explain that it wasn't...me...me looking at you wasn't what you thought it was..." it came out in a rush. Somehow he knew he was handling this in a not too graceful manner.

Aya smiled a short second.

" Didn't you want me, then?" he asked. "Wasn't that what I saw?"

"...It was," Omi hung his head. " You weren't wrong, but..."

"I've seen you watching many times," Aya interrupted softly. "Always with that expression of longing in your eyes..."

" Yes," Omi mumbled lowly, "But have you noticed that it's only you I watch?"

Silence from the bed. None of them moved a muscle. Omi didn't dare to breathe, just stared at his naked toes, waited for the other to react -

"No," Aya said at last. "I hadn't noticed that."

"So I figured..." Omi mumbled and moved restlessly, uncomfortable... wondered why he'd gone to Aya in the first place.

"You're too honest," Aya answered his thoughts. "What do you expect me to answer to that?" he continued.

Suddenly all Omi's courage fled. He felt tired and empty, a little bit foolish.

"I don't know..." he said and his shoulders sank, his hands fell useless down his sides. "I just thought you should know," he sighed deeply and turned to leave. Felt defeated somehow. Cold...

"I know..." Aya's voice made him freeze in motion. "I know you're not a child -" he said. "And I wouldn't have done...- that, if I hadn't needed it, wanted it, myself..." Omi met Aya's gaze now. Twinkling stars of purple. "I just thought you should know that," Aya finished his sentence.

"Thanks," Omi said lowly, turning his back at the other again. "I know what we are," he said with one hand on the door handle, "I'm just as undecided as you are" he said " - if we can find love or not...I know what we are..." he trailed off. Suddenly insecure about where he was headed.

"Omi..." Aya's voice called him back, made him turn around again. "Do you need a label for it?" Aya asked. "We don't feel, like other people do...Doesn't mean we can't...have something".

Omi's heart started racing again. This wasn't an invitation was it?

"What do you mean?" He asked hoarsely.

Aya rolled over to his back, lifted one arm to rest across his forehead.

" I mean that, even if it's just a fling, - just sex. Doesn't mean that it's worthless." He continued: "Maybe, it can be enough...?"

" We can die tomorrow," Omi finished his unsaid thoughts.

"...yes..." Aya's voice was hardly audible.

Suddenly Aya flung his covers off and lay there naked in the dim night. Partly against his will Omi marveled at the sight, drank it in, every inch of creamy perfection laid out there in front of him. The beautifully shaped body, the flawless skin, the semi-erect member that rested out on the mattress when Aya turned to his side, resting on his elbow. The dark nipples were puckered and hard and one of his ear-tails swung itself gracefully across his neck.

"Come here Omi," he tempted. Omi paused for just a second, then he crossed the floor. If what had happened downstairs had been sudden and taken him aback, this felt all right -- The two of them had a understanding. He sat himself down on the bed, gazed into Aya's eyes before wetting his lips nervously, he paused for a moment. His heart raced, the electrical feel was back in his loins. Excitement, anticipation...Then he leaned down and placed his lips on Aya's. Let himself be grabbed by the waist and swung up in the bed to rest on top of the older man. On top of that creamy loveliness. The kiss was slow and wet this time. Exploring and soft. Aya moaned lowly in his throat, Omi found it unbelievably sexy, arousing beyond words...Aya's hands slipped under his t-shirt and began to stroke his back, tugged lightly at the fabric, urged Omi to take it off. He quickly pulled it over his head and dropped it to the floor. It landed with a soft sound on Aya's discarded magazine. It was bliss in that first contact. Their naked chests rubbing together. Warm skin that caressed.

"You sure you're ok with it?" Aya mumbled when the kiss ended.

Omi nodded silently, kissed the smooth perfection of Aya's neck, let his tongue trail his collarbone.

"Take them off," Aya whispered and played with the waistband of Omi's pants. The younger boy nodded and wriggled out of them, left them in a heap by the end of the bed. Crawled back on top of Aya, savoring the exquisite feel of naked skin sliding against his own, the body heat. The pulsing veins...

Aya embraced him and pulled him closer, kissed him again, curled his long legs around Omi's. Soft sounds escaped his lips in a steady stream while he licked and nibbled gently at Omi's throat, kissed the purple marks he'd left there earlier.

"Aya..." Omi sighed and let himself be overtaken by the other, let his movements and actions guide him, tell him what to do. Molding himself against the other's body with one of his hands tangled in silken red hair, the other one roaming his side. He could never get enough of touching him, he thought. The soft, smooth feel of his skin was addictive. The scent of him that of heavy red roses, not lemony at all - not anymore. He let his tongue flicker over Aya's puckered nipples, heard the other moan, felt him shiver in response. Aya's erection pounded steadily against his thigh. The short red curls at the base tickled his skin. Omi took it in his hand, Aya shot him a grateful smile and returned the gesture, flipping them both over on their sides and grabbing hold of Omi's eagerly twitching member. Aya's other hand drifted across Omi's lower back and gently caressed one of his buttocks.

"Want you!" he murmured and made Omi blush and tremble by the mere thought of the implications of his statement. Still he let himself be flipped over and straddled by the bigger man, - he was impressive like that, on his fours over Omi's body, purple eyes gleaming devilishly towards him. The sight of the erection pointing at him from Aya's crotch made him shiver, his teeth clattered in his mouth.

"Are you nervous?" Aya asked hoarsely.

"Don't...stop!" Omi replied.

"Do you want me," the red-head whispered, ear-tails brushing Omi's face.

"...Yeah!" Omi replied, heard the amazement in his own voice.

Aya reached one arm over to his bed stand, his hand reappeared with a bottle of clear gel.

"It's for sore muscles," he explained. "Completely neutral..."

Omi just nodded and bit his lip. Didn't really hear him. His body felt tense and stiff.

Aya lifted one of his legs over his shoulder, leaving Omi exposed and feeling somewhat vulnerable...but it wasn't like he hadn't agreed...He hissed lowly when the cool gel dribbled down the crack of his buttocks. It wasn't nearly as cold as the sorbet had been, but unpleasant enough. Aya's fingers followed the thick fluid, probed gently at the tiny entrance made Omi squirm with faint pain and delight.

He knew he had to relax and did his best, let his hands rest on the pillow above his head, holding his own wrists, both to keep them for interfering and as to have something to squeeze when it became uncomfortable. Aya was good to him though, didn't rush it but went slowly, made sure to pleasure him, stroke him while exploring his insides with his fingers. He pressed and rubbed gently at the prostate gland, made Omi jerk and toss his head, close his eyes and moan deeply with pleasure and the slight discomfort from the new and unfamiliar feeling. He kept his eyes open though, when Aya slowly entered his body. Pushed inside of him, forced his flesh to part with insistent determination. Purple gaze locked in Omi's.

Omi looked down his body, at the man resting between his legs. He felt Aya's pubic hair graze his sensitive flesh, and the rock hard , pounding column inside. It filled him up completely. Unfamiliar and strange, but not at all unpleasant. His own arousal twitched in Aya's hand again, as to urge him on. Aya redrew with a low hiss, lowered his lids as he did, before slowly re-entering him, filling him up with his smooth hardness. Omi sighed, - and moaned. It felt good...yes it did, especially when he touched that special spot, made him leak small cries and moans every time. And the fingers were still moving slowly up and down his shaft. Made it all feel so delicate...so pure.

Aya built up a rhythm, a little bit faster, harder...Omi found that he liked it. Liked the way Aya showed force when he thrust inside, he liked the feel of it as well. And the look on Aya's face while he fucked him. Unconsciously he began to rock his hips in time with Aya's thrusts. Wanting more of it, harder, deeper...

"Aya...!" he cried out, quickly climbing the peak. Aya grunted and strengthened his hold on Omi's member. Pumping it roughly while increasing the speed once again. And so the release was unavoidable: Thick strands of liquid pumped out of Omi's twitching cock while Aya suddenly gave a deep sigh and froze in motion on top of him. Flooded his insides with more of the same. A fine shine of sweat covered his torso and his eyes glimmered like dark amethysts.

"Aya..." Omi whispered while catching his breath. His fingers laced behind his neck and he pulled the other man down to a soft kiss. Aya complied, was soft and heavy in Omi's arms. He gave a slight sound of contentment while what remained of his erection slipped out of Omi's body, followed by a stream of hot liquid. Then he pulled Omi into his arms and rolled them both over, held him close to his body for a while.

"Nice?" he asked Omi in a slurry voice. His eyes were closed and his breath came slower now.

"Yes," Omi smiled and curled up beside him. He reached down and pulled up the covers...So this was it then, he thought while a feeling of contentment spread through his limbs and made his lips curl into a slight smile. Almost like lemon sorbet... A bit sweet, a bit sour, - but all in all; good.

The End



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