Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
A fabulous P.L. Nunn accompanies this chapter.
Cye was wet.
He was wet and cold.
He was wet, cold, in a rotten mood and wanting to stomp through the puddles on the street even though it would look absurd. How hard can it be to find him, indeed, he grumbled to himself. Yes, he was looking for a rather specific person but there were a lot of damn florists to check. And it didn't help that he didn't know how careful he needed to be. Walking into a place and just asking if they had a red-headed assassin-florist working there was right out. If he was lucky they'd just think he was crazy.
He did wish he had a better idea of what questions were safe though. Would asking for Aya get the attention of the people he worked for? Would asking for a violet-eyed redhead do it? And if he did, what would happen? The last thing he wanted was for them to get irritated at his poking about and try to do something about it. That would just drag the guys in and it would all be a shambles. Super-secret shadowy organizations did not need to know about mystical armor, thank you. He was rather attached to his life as it was.
So, he was forced to be slow and patient. He'd pick a shop on the list, go in a few times on different shifts, ask questions about roses that someone needed to know their business to answer, that sort of thing. He'd started with the upscale shops first, thinking that the distant attitude Aya had might mesh well there. Then the second tier shops, hoping that maybe he'd be some where a little lower profile. And in all came up with a fat zero.
All that fruitless searching had lead him here, stomping through slush puddles on a nasty winter day, getting his boots soaked because the next place on the list was one, Kitten In the House. What sort of name was that? Probably bursting with adolescent, squealing, sparkly pink-bubbled, shoujo fangi...
He blinked, staring at the shop.
It was an utterly miserable day, grey skies, cold, slushy from the sleet and rain this morning... and clustered in front of the shop, umbrella’ed and warmly dressed were the previously imagined squealing fangirls. He walked forward, fascinated in a demented sort of fashion, as though approaching some sort of alien organism.
He couldn't really make out much, there were too many voices babbling but he did catch one enticing mournful squeak that "it had been soooo loooonng since they were all together. It's just not lucky without all four." Cye slogged through the slush with determination; there had been four in that alley. Yes, it was a pitiful sort of clue but better than the nothing he'd been dealing with so far.
Kitten... why was that nagging at him... A few of the girls noticed him as he approached and started whispering to each other. He caught something as he passed about "Who is he?" but this was not on his list of important things at the moment. He pushed through the crowd, as politely as possible, and turned to the register. And before he could say a word, felt his jaw drop as he stared at a pair of wide blue eyes and messy blond hair.
Kitten... Kitten in the House... cats... Bombay, Siberian, Balinese... Rather obvious when he thought about it now...
Where... He turned his head slowly, catching a thread of anger to the side and saw the brunnette who'd been wearing the clawed glove. Siberian... that's right, he'd had that awful orange sweatshirt tied around his waist. The heated glare he was wearing didn't suit him at all, Cye thought distantly, he was meant for more cheerful things...
The little blond had to be Bombay, he couldn't see the brunette or the taller blond wearing that silly pink snowcap. That left... Oh dear. A lean shape had draped itself in a back doorway, careless appearing until burning green eyes lanced into him over the rims of an expensive pair of sunglasses. For a brief moment, Cye nearly panicked. Yes, he was a Ronin and had his armor. He'd also just walked into the den of a set of very dangerous and apparently protective cats and hadn't the faintest idea what to do.
"Where's Aya?" He blurted out, looking back at the short blond. That was not what he'd been planning to say. And judging by the hard look he received from "Bombay", not the brightest thing he could have said either.
Behind him there suddenly chorused a sigh of "Aya-san..." from three or four of the clustering girls. "He's sick, and we haven't seen him for weeks!" one of them exclaimed mournfully.
At that, Bombay tensed up, glancing at the other two for backup. With the girls confirming the fact that Aya did indeed work here, the other three couldn't exactly disavow knowledge of him. Wild looks and wilder emotions were flying between the three young men. Cye caught snippets of fear and protectiveness, sharpened with an edge of desperation.
"You can't see him," declared Balinese, loping from the back of the store, shouldering a very surprised Bombay out of the way. He was easily half a head taller than Cye and managed to pull off a menacing demeanor without even taking his hands out of his pockets.
"Oooooh, Yohji-san's so scary!" tittered the teenagers all clustered around this little confrontation. Out of the corner of his eye, Cye saw Siberian drop his face into his hands, exasperated. These annoying girls were turning out to be Cye's allies after all! If he played this right, they could be very useful allies at that. Whatever the trio planned, they couldn't very well attack or harm him in front of bystanders. Plus, Ran had said they dispensed justice, he hoped that meant they wouldn't hurt someone without a really good reason.
Cye ordinarily detested emotional manipulation. Not only did it run counter to the soul of his armor but with the edge he had in dealing with emotion he was too damn good at it for comfort. Plus, weaseling things out of someone like that always made him feel... well, slimy. This was rather an emergency though and he was going to play it to the hilt if it got his Ran back.
He sighed, looking mildly tragic, and exaggerated his accent a bit when he spoke, "How dreadfully disappointing," he said sadly. "I was so looking forward to talking to him about his lovely roses. He has simply the highest recommendations for proper arranging, you know. To come all this way and not be able to see a single petal..."
The girls had set to murmuring at that, about how just awful it was that the nice (and cute) man had come allll that waaay only to be turned away. He turned then, giving the girls his most charming smile, "I'm sorry to have to part company with such a delightful group of ladies under the circumstances. Please do give Aya my most heartfelt regards when he's well again."
More muttered whispering and blushing suddenly erupted into full voice. "Pleeeeaaase, Yohji-san... can't he pleeeease see the greenhouse? He's come all this way! Aya-san's roses are soooo pretty! Please!"
He turned that smile on the trio, innocent and charming, at least to someone who didn't know him well. "I shan't put you to any trouble," he said. "I'm sure you have enough work in this fine shop that a tour would be a dreadful imposition." The squealing erupted again as the girls begged the three to take him on that very tour. Some of them hoping that it would lead to some sort of sweet, illicit something with the tragically ill Aya, he was sure. And he was very careful to mask any amusement at the sight of three big, strong, and presumably tough assassins being overwhelmed by a horde of teenaged girls.
Each one of them now had a pair of girls tugging on their arms, and all three were highly distracted trying to get them off. They couldn't very well fight off the teenagers, but at the same time they couldn't very well try to shove Cye out the door any more, either.
Nothing now stood in the way of that door that the tall blond had been guarding when he came in. That had to be the way to the greenhouse that the gang of girls had been squealing about. A door that was becoming terribly, temptingly close as the crowd shoved him farther away from the front of the store.
"Go," someone whispered close by. He turned to look at the pair of girls who were pushing him back, ostensibly being as fangirlish as the others. One gave him wink and the other, the one who'd spoken at first, whispered again, "Go. The greenhouse is out back."
"Thank you," he murmured, watching for a moment when all three were distracted.
"Just make Aya-san smile. He needs to be happy," she whispered back.
He flashed her a startled look then a wide grin. "Thanks." At an almost arranged signal, one of the girls holding Yohji uttered a piercing squeal and Cye took the chance to slip unseen through the doorway in a move as slick as any used to outrun Dynasty soldiers.
He found himself in a supply room piled high with bags and boxes, empty pots and gardening tools. At the other end was a glass door, beads of condensation flowing slowly down its surface and a glimpse of green on the other side. He walked over quickly and placed his hand on the handle. [Please. Please, if you're listening... let him be there...]
~*~*~*~
The greenhouse was nice and quiet, and had been so for a pleasantly long time. Aya was trimming and fertilizing the roses, taking special care with them as he always had. The others had decided that he didn't need a babysitter any more, it seemed, because Yohji had left him alone for several hours straight.
Among the roses, when the sun was filtering through the steam-drenched greenhouse glass and there were no sounds other than the snip of his shears and his own breathing, Aya liked to pretend that he was living in a dream he had once had. In the dream it was always sunny, and he had an entire garden to himself to tend just how he wanted. There would be a house not far away, with someone he very much wanted to spend time with living in it. He would think to himself often that soon he would be finished with the garden work, and then there would be lemonade and marzipan and a sweet sweet smile...
Though he knew it was only a dream, he often pretended that it was real. Only in the greenhouse, though. Only here did he dare to remember that dream, because if he thought of it anywhere else, he knew his heart would break.
Life went on, even if Aya had almost died. He had gone back to practicing with the sword and going on reconnaissance missions for Weiss. He was still not deemed fit for night missions, but in every other way his teammates had accepted him back into the group. Aya was part of Weiss, and he had never been anything else... not a lover, not a gardener, no one's rose. Never.
Aya had gone to great lengths to convince himself of this, but still, sometimes, he liked to pretend.
The door opened. Aya sighed, knowing he would have to leave the dream behind now that his babysitter had returned. He finished clipping a brown leaf from the rosebush, and looked up, intending to tell Yohji in no uncertain terms to go away and leave him in peace.
His heart almost stopped -- again -- at the sight of the wide-eyed, breathless boy who stood in the doorway. There was the soft auburn hair, the bright green eyes that haunted his waking and sleeping dreams. He was there, leaning against the closed greenhouse door and staring at him.
A joy so complete surged up in his heart as they stood there, motionless, looking at each other. Aya wanted to run to him, scoop him up in his arms, whisper all the love and hurt he'd been holding on to for all these weeks...
But fear spoke first, reminding him that the love he thought he felt was only a dream, and this boy had seen what he'd done and knew what he was. Fear told Aya that the other boy was here to confront him. He knew about Weiss, he knew about the murders, he was here for answers...
The boy had to go. Aya fought against naming him even in his mind, knowing that 'Cye' was just something he'd made up in his dream. He couldn't afford to let this boy stay here any longer. But, if he was as persistent as... no! No, that was just someone Aya had imagined. He started to move forward, intending to throw the young man out bodily if need be.
"Ran..."
No other word could have made him stop short in his tracks like that. There was nothing the boy could have said to convince him, except that. He knew Aya's name, the thing he hadn't told anyone since he'd told his teammates that his name was Aya. He hadn't told anyone, except...
Except...
"Cye?"
~*~*~*~
Staring, frozen in shock at the sight before him, Cye tried to remember to breathe. No matter what'd he'd said to the others, how much he made himself believe over and over, there'd still been the tiny seed of doubt inside. It had been weeks, months now, since that night. There was nothing to say that his Ran would remember, that he would even still be *his* Ran. Nothing until he saw the hope and recognition leap into flame in twilight eyes. Nothing until he saw the familiar heartbreaking denial in those eyes and knew that Ran had convinced himself that Cye wasn't real. He did the only thing he could.
"Ran..."
The name spilled out of it's own accord, he couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried. It occurred to him distantly that the name was supposed to be secret but he couldn't have cared less. He was here. Here and real and warm and so terribly beautiful in the thin sunlight...
"Cye?"
A hesitant question, sounding so afraid that he'd vanish, leaving his Ran alone again. Never... Never! Not ever, ever again... And in that moment of questioning, he'd thrown himself into the redhead's arms, wrapping his arms around his love tight and pulling him down for a searing, healing kiss.
~*~*~*~
Aya’s question was answered, and along with it, a million others. Yes, this was really his Cye kissing him breathless and squeezed into his arms. Yes, love was real, even for someone like him. Yes, that house and garden had been more than just a dream. Yes, hope held on to for long enough would be validated and answered. Yes, dreams sometimes did come true.
He was shaking with the intensity of everything he had realized just by holding Cye again and knowing without a doubt that it was the same boy he had fallen in love with in some other existence. Cye even tasted the same as he remembered: faintly sweet and freshly clean. There was nothing left to doubt.
“I thought I was dreaming,” Aya whispered, clutching Cye’s back when they both gasped for breath.
“This isn’t a dream,” Cye promised, pressing his warm body and heated center against him. “It’s real, we’re together again...” He kissed Aya again as if they hadn’t been kissing a moment ago and this was the first time all over again. This time he tasted of promises and assurances, words that Aya couldn’t hear but could feel. Those promises lived in the soul-deep brush of Cye’s tongue and the tender but insistent movement of his warm lips.
Slowly, Aya dragged pleasure-drowsed lids open, longing to see the heartfelt expression on Cye’s face when he kissed. He had always poured himself into any display of affection for Aya, making even the smallest touch meaningful and special. Nothing had changed. Even as Cye was sweetly plundering his mouth, Aya could see the slight furrow of concentration in his forehead, the fluttering of his lashes.
Something flashed in the corner of his eye, and beneath veiling lashes Aya shifted his gaze toward the half-seen door of the shop. He was certain something had moved there, and there was a rubbed-out clear circle in the condensation. But Cye’s hands were moving over his hips now and pulling him closer, and whoever had been spying on them quickly fled from Aya’s mind.
~*~*~*~
More, Cye needed more and Right Now. He'd barely paused the frantic kisses, breaking free only long enough to murmur reassurances that he was there and real and alive. He'd yanked the redhead's shirt up, running his hand over pale stomach before he registered the murmured "Not here..." Cye pulled back, blinking. That's right, they were home, not in an empty house, not able to ravage wherever they liked. He looked around frantically; any walk would be too long.
There. There was an alcove nearby with racking for pots and bags and things. He near dragged Aya over, pushing him into the narrow space until they were out of sight. "Mine," he whispered fiercely. "Want, right now. Stay quiet if you can." He gave one last bite to Aya's neck before sliding to his knees.
He rubbed his cheek against the warm bulge at the front of Aya's jeans. The rose-scent clung to the pale hands threading themselves into his hair, the voice he could drown in was sounding muffled moans from above. It was so quiet... the slide of the zipper so terribly loud. Jeans and underwear were yanked down together, stopping at his thighs, trapping Aya's legs. Cye ran a teasing lick over the curve of one white hip, the only teasing he could stand to give.
Warm and smooth, tart and sweet together, the soft skin slid into his mouth. He spent long moments doing nothing but relearning the shape, silky skin, the veins sliding under his tongue. Tiny stifled moans sounded from above him, long fingers threaded through his hair and he knew without looking that Aya was biting the heel of his hand. It was so warm, surrounded by the smell of green growing things and so quiet. They could almost be home...
The moans came faster, kittenish whimpers so at odds with the stoic redhead. He could taste the first drops and the hand in his hair tightened. One hand crept down from a pale hip, down the curve of a slender thigh, and teased between barely spread, trapped thighs. A teasing touch to the taut skinned sack and behind, wriggling just a fingertip against puckered skin.
The hand tightened almost painfully and Aya's back arched, the kitten moans transforming into something more explosive. Cye felt the low throb in his mouth for just a moment before the so familiar release bloomed over his tongue. He took it all, remembering so many times in the warm sun when it was the two of them alone in the world.
And it was over too soon. He slid up the length of Aya's body, catching him in an embrace and staring into passion-glazed eyes. Dreamy amethyst slowly focused and Cye knew the moment his Ran truly believed he was there. He felt the faintest trickle of a fire-bright thread touch him and all that mattered was getting more.
"Where can we go..." he purred, suckling at a shell pink ear. A stifled groan was his answer at first. He was still stroking Aya, feeling him start to stiffen again slowly. "Want you, going to have you, and your friends can go hang..."
"Up... upstairs..." Aya said softly, biting his lip to hold back soft cries. "Our apartments..."
"Wonderful, kitten," Cye purred, grazing his teeth down the pale column of neck. "Is there a back stair?" At Aya's shaky nod, Cye pulled up the redhead's jeans, setting him to right just in case. "Upstairs it is, love. And don't plan on working tomorrow...”
As an afterthought, he grabbed a handful of long, freshly-cut roses from one of the worktables, and pulled his newfound love to the door.
~*~*~*~
Aya's hand paused on the doorknob leading back to his bedroom from his private bath. He took a couple of slow breaths, almost afraid of what would greet him when he opened the door. Would he return and find it all had been a dream? Even though Cye had returned to him, still, somehow, it didn't quite feel real. If he stepped out and Cye wasn't there... what would he do? What could he do?
They had stumbled blindly up to his room, desperate for one another. Hardly a word was spoken that wasn’t a gasp or a breathless encouragement. They were making love almost before they’d fallen on the bed. The roses Cye had picked up had been forgotten in the frenzy to just get at one another. Afterward, Aya had crept off to have a shower, and in those few minutes under the spray had started to wonder if he wasn’t hallucinating all of it.
The room was dark, when he finally pushed the door open. Golden candlelight flickered from the single taper lit on the dresser, casting long shadows and highlighting everything in faint brilliance. His familiar bed had been remade with black silk sheets and he could smell the roses brought up earlier. They had been abandoned in the first rush of frenetic passion, but now... now the petals had been stripped and droplets of crimson rose petals were strewn all over the black silk. Aya's grip on the towel around his waist slipped a little as he looked over his bedroom reborn. In the darkness he heard a gasp, and realized it was his own. "Cye...?"
From near the bed came the quiet British voice he'd been longing forever to hear. "Right here, love..." And there he was, perched in the chair next to the bed, toying with one of the roses. "I went looking through things, is that alright?"
The attention to detail, the care in redecorating his room in darkness and flowers was all a bit overwhelming. Aya dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling rather shy, and smoothed his hand over the sheets. "These... are not mine." He dared a small glance up at the sweet-faced boy next to his bed. "They must belong to Yohji."
"Oh," murmured Cye carelessly, looking up to meet Aya's eyes. The smile on his lips caught an aquamarine blaze in his eyes. "You'll have to give him my apologies. I'll replace them the next time I'm by."
"Next time." So much hope flared up in Aya's chest, that he could do nothing but crawl across the bed, leaving the fluffy white towel behind. "There is going to be a next time."
They kissed truly then, touching one another's faces, whispering those impossible words that Aya had never believed he would hear.
"I'm here, I'm real... And I love you..."
Aya leaned back, sinking down onto the silken sheets and pillows, into the soft coating of rose petals. He drew Cye down with him, into the fantasy that Cye had created for him.
"And I hope your friends don't have anything for you to do tomorrow. Because if they do..." Aya's vision was filled with nothing but Cye's sweet face leaning over him, smiling. "I'm afraid they'll have to go elsewhere."
Fine tremors running over his skin, Aya could only gaze up at his long-lost love bending over him. Finally, finally... this dream had come true and was now warm flesh and blood in his bed. "We will shut the world out again and be only you and I, like it was before," Aya whispered fervently, wrapping his arms tight around the miracle in his bed.
Cye bent low over him, soft lips brushing his forehead. "Yes... Just us. Just us..." More kisses fell on his cheeks... "Warm." ... his chin... "Alone." ... his throat... "Mine and mine alone..." A quiet moan escaped Aya just before Cye's mouth covered his, arms wound tightly around Cye's back. Naked skin met naked skin as he arched up, pressing his body against Cye's.
No matter that they'd tangled not an hour earlier. The fire blazed up hot and needful again, aching to burn away the time spent apart. "Never... I never get enough..." Cye panted. "Please?"
Eager already for what he knew would be good and sweet, Aya tilted his hips up, his warm sex hardening quickly against Cye's thigh. "Yes... again. Please, slow... like the first time?"
"Ohhh... yes." Cye began trailing kisses down his neck, tasting at his skin. He well knew that the sensitive, tender place on his neck, knew the best place to nuzzle Aya to turn him into a weakened mess of trembles and moans. "I have my perfect rose again..."
Turning his cheek, crying out a sweet mewling moan, Aya went quite limp under Cye's knowing attentions. Limp except for the very hot, insistent flesh pressing against his thigh. "Cye, I... I..."
"What, love? Tell me?" He could hear Cye reaching for the nightstand and the bottle of oil they'd discarded there the first time they'd attacked each other tonight. Aya slid his hand into the soft auburn hair, touching and stroking.
"I did not say it soon enough nor often enough... but... I love you, Cye."
Cye murmured with a smile, "And every time is a treasure." Even as he was whispering he was sliding his hands between Aya's legs and dipping down for another kiss. With the tempo of his tongue, his fingers pressed into Aya's body, opening, joining with him.
Never before had the soft, pliant willingness that Cye inspired in Aya felt quite this good. Moaning into Cye's mouth, he spread his legs for the gentle touch of his lover's fingers. Every nerve in his body was trembling with anticipation, and he tried to rock himself a little with his fingers. Cye held him close, gracing him with slow kisses during the gentle preparation. Any discomfort from the rough session earlier had been soothed away, leaving only slick pleasure inside of him. Soon he was pressing the bottle into Aya's hand.
"Please? Touch me?"
His hands were shaking, making it difficult to pour the oil into his palm. Drips of it fell onto his belly and into crisp red curls, giving him shivers. Discarding the bottle carelessly on the floor, he reached down to wrap his hand around Cye's stiffness, sucking in a quiet breath. "So many nights, I wanted..."
Cye arched beautifully into that touch, signaling how ready they both were. "Ohh... So did I, love... I thought my heart would break... so alone, even with them all there..."
"Ahhh, Cye... " His lover's name was the most wonderful thing that had ever fallen from Aya's lips. He stroked Cye slowly, molding and feeling the strength, the hardness of him. "We belong to each other now, don't we?"
Gasping, Cye eked out, "Forever... Never again.... " Groaning, he demanded, "Stop, please... "
Aya managed to halt his hand with one final squeeze, sliding his slick palm up Cye's belly and chest to drape his arms around his shoulders again. "Now, please. Make me yours forever, again."
Claiming Aya's lips for one more kiss, Cye purred, "On your side, lovely..."
He didn't want to wait any longer, he wanted Cye *now* and without hesitation. Squirming, Aya shifted onto his side, bottom presented to Cye. With an arch to his back, he grasped at one of the pillows covered in silk, trembling in anticipation of the next moment.
Cye pressed close behind him, skin to slightly damp skin, lifting Aya's leg over his. He buried his face in bright, rose scented hair, pressing forward slowly. Wrapping his arms around Aya tight, holding close, Aya could just feel his lover whispering in his ear. "I need to feel you..." Cr
imson petals hugging his pale, damp skin, caught in his red red hair, caught between his fingers, decorating everywhere the skin that Cye's hands were caressing now. Between near incoherent moans they joined together, slowly pressing nearer until nothing but the rose petals came between them.
"My Ran..."
Aya was trembling like a virgin in Cye's arms, crying out quietly in desperation now that his love was completely buried inside him. "Missed you! Oh how I missed you!" He turned his head, longing, straining back with parted lips to feel Cye's kiss.
And he got it, a sweet and gentle kiss. Aya could feel the restraint in him, the urge to drive into his pretty redhead. "Never apart, love," he promised in a distracted whisper. "Won't lose you again..." Unable to stand waiting any longer, he began to pull back slowly, and push back in, the same slow loving pace from the first night they'd been together, that night Aya had remembered so well.
Inhibitions had flown away with the first touch of his lover's cock, and Aya was free to toss his head back and cry out as loud as he wanted to. One trembly hand sought Cye's arm around him, tangling their fingers tightly for stability. Cye met his hand and wound their fingers together, protective and steadying even in the midst of slow, maddening sex. He reached with the other hand, trailing his fingertips over Aya's sack. As ever that delicate touch drove Aya wild, craning his neck back in pleasure so Cye could always see his face. "Please... please touch..." Oh, he was aching, so hard and wanting... just the touch of his lover's palm would end him, he knew.
Whispering "Anything..." Cye closed his hand lightly around Aya's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. "Just let me see... I need to see you."
Aya had already thrown any shyness to the wind, and lifted his leg up at a sharp point so that everything was displayed to Cye's view without a care. Lashes fallen over his cheeks, lips parted for his steady moans, his body rocked back and forth between Cye's smooth hand and Cye's thick cock. Faster Cye's hand moved, harder he thrust inside, pleading, "Oh love... please... please tell me..."
Aya couldn't keep his head, neck, and shoulders from writhing in utter uncontained passion. It seemed so easy to moan the words now, no matter how difficult they had once been. It didn't matter now, not now that he knew the truth of them. "I love you, Cye... I love you, only you..."
It was all Cye needed, thrusting in hard before spilling in hot waves. "Oh god, Ran... Love you... love you..."
With a tiny cry, Aya felt his inner walls clamp down on Cye tightly. The warmth rushing into him brought the ache in his balls to a clench of pleasure, and he came in a rush over the hand surrounding him. He vaguely recognized his own voice screaming in pleasure. "Cye! Cye! Oh yes..."
"Ran..." Cye's face was buried in his hair, echoing the shudders of Aya's body in his own. The force of their shared orgasm was almost too much, quaking both to their very core.
"Yes... Cye. You know me... you know me."
"And you know me..." Cye's lips pressed against the back of his neck in a gentle whisper. "Mine..."
[ Epilogue ]