Persistence

“Urgghh,” Yohji said articulately. It was the best he could do, he’d had a lot of scotch and he had an extra tongue in his mouth.

Aya drew back, just a breath. “Shut up, Yohji.”

“No–“ Yohji grabbed a fistful of red hair and pulled those lips from his. “Aya, you’re drunk, and–”

“And you’re beautiful.” Aya shoved, Yohji flailed, then tumbled backwards. Into the Seven’s back seat. Aya leaped after him, straddling his hips and catching his hands.

“God, you haven’t had a date in a while, have you?”

“Kudou…” Aya growled, “shut up!”

“Aya…ngggh!!” Yohji gasped as Aya rocked his hips, sending molten lust screaming through the blonde. God, he was sitting right there, and he wasn’t shy at all and even drunk this was not what Yohji had expected–

“That’s better,” Aya muttered. He shifted again, Yohji moaned. Aya looked smug. Then those gorgeous eyes trailed over Yohji, the field tactician plotting the best way to–

“Ay-ngghh,” Yohji gasped, as those lips clamped on his neck. Oh God, he felt good, Aya–

Get a grip! some small sober part scolded. Aya was drunk and they were in the parking lot and his damn legs were still hanging out of the car and Abyssinian would spend a week killing him if Yohji took advantage!

If anyone could interpret–unhhh–Yohji being held down and–ohhh–devoured in his own car as–ahhhh–Yohji taking advantage, it was– “A-YA!”

Aya gave him a breathless, breathtaking, naughty grin. “Didn’t think there was room in there for more, ne, Yohji?”

Oh. my. God. Aya’s hand was in his pants! While Yohji was reminding himself to struggle, Aya had pinned both wrists with one hand, freeing the other to–

“St–yurrr–stop, Ay–nggghh–stop it!” God, he was already rock-hard, Aya was going to make him–

“Mou, Yohji-kun,” Aya said, the first time Yohji had ever heard him use that word, “you don’t sound like you mean it.” He pouted, mischief sparkling in those incredible eyes. Then that naughty grin came back. “Do you have any idea,” he asked, with a squeeze to make Yohji moan again, “how long I’ve wanted to taste you?”

“T-t-taste m-me?” Yohji stuttered, entranced and seduced and Kami-sama how was he supposed to fight this?

Aya ran a fingernail up Yohji’s length, watching Yohji shiver. “Taste you,” he confirmed. And he bent that beautiful head, licked those luscious lips–

Yohji wailed and twisted and leaped, leaving Aya astonished and alone in the car. He had to resist, damn it, he had to. He’d gladly accept being tortured to death for just one night with this gorgeous redhead, but Aya had said he wanted him always, not just when he was drunk, and if Yohji let Aya have his way tonight, tomorrow Aya would hate him and Yohji couldn’t stand the thought of loving the man only once and he had to stay firm, and–

K’so, firm was not a problem! Yohji fastened his pants–how the hell had Aya undone them one-handed?–and lit a cigarette with trembling hands and tried to think calming thoughts. Cold water, getting up early, Aya glaring–don’t think of Aya!

The one he was trying not to think of had that naughty grin again. The redhead stepped slowly out of the car. Yohji kept it between them.

“Stop, Aya, please, I don’t want–“

”Liar.” Aya tried to rush him, Yohji vaulted over the hood.

“Aya–“

”Kawaii!” a woman squealed. “Yohji-chan is playing hard to get!”

Oh shit. Several people laughed, but Aya didn’t stop stalking. God, if he didn’t even care–Aya just grinned wider.

“They do know you here.” He lunged, Yohji yelped and barely twisted out of reach. If Aya weren’t drunk, this would have been over–if Aya weren’t drunk, this sure as hell wouldn’t be happening!

”Jiro, I’ll bet a thousand yen on the redhead!” a man called.

“No bet, Kudou wants caught!”

Oh, damn, damn, this was bad. From being on the other side, Yohji knew a hundred and one ways to ‘accidentally’ get caught, but not one single way to escape a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and who had come here in his car and lived with him besides…

Lived with him. Aya-chan. Aya-chan could reach him. Drunk, insane or dead, Aya’s universe revolved around his imouto.

“Aya! Let’s go home.”

“Of course, Yohji.” Aya’s smile was positively evil. “Just get in the car, Kudou-san.”

“Behave till we get home, Aya.” And please, Aya-chan, be home, don’t have taken advantage of an evening’s freedom to stay at Keiko’s… “Behave till we get home, or we’ll have an accident. You don’t want to leave Aya-chan to Ken to take care of, do you?”

Anger sparked those incredible eyes. Aya climbed over the door, buckled himself in and crossed his arms. Yohji sighed relief.

“Mou, Yohji-chan!” Shit, it was Mamiko, half of Tokyo would know the story by dawn. “Yohji-darling, call me tomorrow!”

Aya studied the girl as Yohji got in. “If he calls you,” he said, “I will kill you.”

Oh shit…

“Kowaii!” Mamiko squeaked.

Yohji lit a cigarette, realized he had one, stuck both in his mouth and drove. Had to get the crazed redhead to his sister, then get to a shrine and pray Aya still felt this way tomorrow…

From the moment he learned of her, Yohji had always known Aya-chan was a miracle worker. From what Aya had survived just to go on protecting her, from the changes she had wrought in icy Abyssinian simply by waking up, he had known there was something incredible about the girl. Now he wondered again at her influence. Aya sat still with his arms crossed, but the way he looked at Yohji–only Aya-chan could have kept him in that seat. Yohji knew what the redhead was thinking, could feel his eyes as well as he had the man’s hands a few minutes ago, could–

Don’t look at Aya, Yohji. Smoke your cigarettes and pay attention to traffic and don’t look at the drop-dead gorgeous redhead plotting how best to screw your brains out just as soon as–

Don’t think about Aya, Yohji.

Better, think about Aya. Think about him threatening–no. If Aya said he would kill someone, Aya killed them, that was not a threat. Oh, wow. Aya was possessive. Well, duh, but possessive of Yohji. And with Yohji watching his back, Aya had let down his guard, had been Ran for a little while tonight. Aya wanted him, had wanted him for a long time, Aya was possessive, Aya trusted him–

If those thoughts didn’t give Yohji the strength to resist temptation for the few hours it would take Aya to burn through the scotch, nothing would. Yohji focused on how to keep Aya’s virtue safe for one night, and tried not to think about everything he was going to do to the man tomorrow. Until a warm hand landed high on his thigh, and he jumped.

“Aya! We’ll get in an accident!”

“Mou, Yotan,” Aya had unsnapped his seatbelt, now he pressed up against Yohji to breathe in his ear. “I remembered,” he whispered. “You never wreck the Seven.”

“There’s a first time for everything!”

“Ayan,” Aya finished. And giggled. “You were right. I got drunk.”

“You sure did.” Drive, Yohji, just drive–he yelped as Aya slipped a knee across his lap, ducked under his arm to straddle him. Hell was a lap-ful of redhead and not being able to– “Ayan! We’ll get pulled over! Do you want to spend the night in jail?”

“If they leave the handcuffs on you,” Aya murmured, nuzzling his cheek. Yohji bit his lip and didn’t look at the redhead. Who would have guessed Fujimiya had such an dirty mind? He probably thought like that all the time, hiding evil thoughts behind that icy calm, pondering bondage kink while he did ikebana–

Fujimiya’s evil hands dove into Yohji’s pants. He squeaked, the car fishtailed.

“AYA! Aya-chan, remember Aya-chan!”

The redhead removed his tongue from Yohji’s neck. “She’s not here,” he muttered. And nibbled. Yohji squirmed, he couldn’t help it. Aya shifted, rubbing his hard and hot groin against Yohji’s. The blonde squeaked again. “I like that,” Aya muttered. “The great Kudou Yohji squeaks.”

Ooh, he was going to pay for that! Later– “Aya, I can’t drive like this. Get your ass over there and buckle up before Aya-chan has to bail us out of jail!” Or ID them in the damn morgue…

God, Abyssinian was adorable when he pouted.

God, Yohji couldn’t believe he’d just thought that.

Why the hell had he chosen a club so far from the Koneko?

It turned out to be a good thing. When Yohji finally turned the car off, Aya was slumped against the far door. Yohji smiled, lit another cigarette and brushed crimson hair back.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be turnabout, when Aya wasn’t full of liquid courage. Tomorrow would be Yohji’s turn. He chuckled and went to unlock the door. He’d carried a wounded Aya often enough to know the redhead wasn’t nearly as light as he looked.

A light was on inside, and–how cute, Aya-chan was asleep in the living room! Too bad Aya didn’t get to see her watching for him for once–instinct twanged, but Yohji had been drinking too. He whirled, when he should have just run.

“Gotcha,” Aya announced as they hit the floor. He had Yohji’s hands again. His eyes went to Yohji’s neck. “I think I was right about–“

”Aya-chan!” Yohji whispered frantically. “Aya, your sister is right there!”

Those incredible eyes narrowed, Aya looked up. Studied the situation for a long moment. Looked back to Yohji. With that naughty–no, the evil–grin.

“Don’t make a sound,” he ordered.

In the kitchen?!? With his sister three meters away? Aya was twisted! Yohji wished it didn’t turn him on so much, he needed his blood in his brain– “Aya, you know I’m loud!”

“Hn.” Aya cocked his head, Abyssinian thinking tactically. “And I know you’re sneaky. I’m not letting you go again, Kudou.”

“Aya–“

”So,” Aya went on, “I’ll keep you quiet.” He kissed Yohji, who suddenly forgot why he wanted to escape–

Tomorrow. For tomorrow. Mouth occupied, hands pinned, Yohji drummed his heels on the floor. Aya drew back with a hiss.

“Fine, Kudou.” He rolled to his feet. “Sleep alone if you can.”

Tomorrow, Yohji reminded himself, watching Aya’s graceful stalk away. For tomorrow. He sighed and lit a cigarette, sat there smoking on the floor. When it was done he went and lifted Aya-chan. Amazing Aya hadn’t done it. Well, he did realize he was drunk.

She murmured in her sleep, Yohji planted a kiss in her hair. “It’s just me, Princess. Just Yohji.” He tucked her in her bed–completely dressed including her house slippers, he wasn’t a fool, really–and stumbled to his own room. What a night. He yawned and kicked the door shut behind him. A roller coaster, that was how his mother would–

It was just too much. Instinct didn’t even bother to warn him, Yohji was on his back on the bed before he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Gotcha,” Aya gloated again. “You forgot I don’t give up, Kudou.”

This was getting ridiculous. Yohji was not made to keep his hands off gorgeous willing redheads. It hurt. A lot. In more than one place. “How much are you going to remember tomorrow, Ayan?”

“Who knows?” Aya wiggled on top of him, his mind on other things. “I’ve never been drunk before.”

“You sure do it well.”

“Mind over matter, Kudou. You should try it sometime. Right now, though–“ Aya put Yohji’s wrists under his knees, then peeled off his zipper and buckle shirt, “–just shut up.” Yohji forgot to struggle as Aya leaned to fumble through the bedstand drawer. Kami-sama, Aya was perfect, pale skin glowing in the faint light from the street–

Focus, Kudou you idiot. “You’ll never find anything that way,” he said. “Let me get it.”

Aya cocked his head, then released Yohji’s hands. “No tricks, Kudou. You know you want me.”

“We both know that,” Yohji admitted, since the man was straddling the hardest erection Yohji had ever had in his life. He reached into the drawer, pulled out a new tube of lube–don’t notice, Aya–and something else. Aya chuckled.

“That’s more like it,” he said, taking the handcuffs. “I’ve waited too long, Yohji. I’m going to have you.”

“I’m yours, Aya.” Yohji tried not to think about how right that seemed. Later, Kudou, later, right now deal with now… Aya took his wrist.

“Not yet,” he said. He reached for the headboard. Yohji grabbed, twisted, and handcuffed Aya to the bed. And rolled away, fast.

“I’m sorry!” he said, dodging Aya’s kick. “Aya, I’m sorry! But you’re drunk, and I couldn’t stand it if you hated me tomorrow, and–“

”Balinese,” Abyssinian said softly, “unlock me. Now.”

“No. And don’t try ripping the bed apart, I brought Aya-chan upstairs. You don’t want her coming in here, do you?”

“You’re dead, Kudou.” He went on, of course. Aya had imagination, an extensive experience with killing techniques, a personal knowledge of what upset Yohji the most, and a deep, expressive voice. Yohji threw a blanket over his friend, and curled up with the duvet and a pillow on the floor. And stuck his fingers in his ears.

Tomorrow. This had to get straightened out tomorrow. Didn’t it? Kami-sama, if Aya went back to his icy ignoring Yohji was sure he would cry, and self-respecting assassins weren’t supposed to do that. It was in the rulebook.

Aya changed tactics, telling Yohji in explicit detail what he had planned to do after the handcuffs. Yohji whimpered and debated a shower, decided it would be wasted effort if Aya was still talking when he came back, and besides there wasn’t enough cold water in Tokyo, and snagged another pillow, to clamp over his head.