Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
Cye hummed contentedly as he busied himself with breakfast. The previous day (if their time here could actually be measured in days -- the jury was still out on that one) had been marvelous. Aya had been everything Cye had thought he'd be, and the memory of that pleasure-overloaded, blitzed expression made him mad to find out what other reactions he could draw out of the stoic redhead.
Not that he could figure out just why he was lusting after Aya as fiercely as he was. Oh, part of it was purely physical; the boy was absolutely stunning after all. Another part, Cye was forced to admit, was completely selfish. It had been a long, long time since he'd been forced to sleep alone, much less be without the casual affection that the Ronins all shared.
Aya wasn't much like the few short flings he'd had. Cye tended to prefer someone as outgoing as himself. He worried at the feeling absently as he filled the teakettle, because there was something else. Something in the boy had touched him before a word was even spoken. Something happened in that club to spark a connection, one that dipped deep into the well of his soul.
It wasn't just lust, he though, laying out place settings. Lust would not have prompted the sharing on the hilltop in that stand of trees, nor the overwhelming need he'd felt to be forgiven. Lust would not have kept him in the garden yesterday, after Aya had slid into a blissful sleep. Cye had no idea how long he'd watched the swordsman sleep, fascinated by how the tension had seeped from his face, leaving him even more breathtaking than he was awake. Cye had tentatively curled his little finger around one of those silly forelocks the other man wore, marveling at the soft, crimson silk. Lust would not have waited patiently for the swordsman to wake, knowing that for him to wake alone would have destroyed whatever connection was beginning to build.
He'd allowed Aya a certain amount of personal space on waking, only smiling gently and saying he'd slept the afternoon away. After being sure he was really awake, Cye had said that he was going inside to make dinner and had left with only a quick kiss on the cheek. Through dinner he'd been quiet, not the guilty quiet of the previous day but one that said he knew Aya sometimes appreciated the silence. After dinner they'd both cleaned up and Cye announced that he was going for a quick swim, leaving an invitation open for Aya to take or not as he wished. A smiling goodnight had been the cap to the evening. He'd tried to not push Aya or make him feel uncomfortable, the reaction to just that little bit of partnering in the garden told him that Aya was, at the least, unused to much intimacy.
Torrent sat, absently spooning marmalade on his toast, still thinking. There was just something about the image of that lovely hair, wrapped in a scarlet spool around his fingers, that fascinated him. The pleasant daydreaming was sadly interrupted, though, as Cye looked up and stared at the doorway in horror.
"Aya," he managed to croak, "What in God's name are you wearing?"
Aya stood in the kitchen entry, arms folded over his chest and a grim look on his face. True, his chosen turtleneck sweater was a *little* better than the head-to-toe black he'd elected to wear ever since they'd come here. It was a different color, at least. Unfortunately it was also huge and baggy, hiding that fine, muscular form. And with that bright red hair, did he have to choose something so... so...
So orange?!
At the redhead's blank look he tried again, "Aya, please tell me that somewhere, somehow, someone told you that orange is the absolute worst color that a person with red hair can wear? I'm sorry, but that is the single most hideous piece of clothing I have ever seen and Rowan has some of the most bizarre clubbing gear in existence." He was met with nothing but stoic, exasperating silence. Cye groaned, covering his face with one hand and waving towards the other chair with the other. "Fine, wear the horrid thing, burn my eyes out. I don't care..."
"Good morning, by the way," Aya answered in that low, smooth voice. Cye thought he'd seen the other man's mouth twitch a little bit as he came in and took the offered chair but couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light. Really, it was amazing the way Aya's expression never seemed to change. Except when flushed, excited, and passionate, Cye reminded himself smugly. Covertly he watched Aya spread his muffin with a little bit of butter and sip at his miso soup. Much like dinner the night before, breakfast was a quiet affair. Not uncomfortable, though. Aya either really was okay with what had happened in the garden, or he was pretending that it had never happened.
After a few minutes of eating Cye spoke up again, "I was thinking that we should look through the house today. We haven't found anything outside and this place is bigger than it looks. I think I saw an attic pulldown at the end of the upstairs hall, and I know there should be a few more rooms on this floor. Though if the attic is anything like Mia's, heaven knows what could be up there."
The very idea seemed to relieve Aya immediately. He even set down his half-finished bowl of soup and made to get up at that very moment. "Likely the answers will be in the house," he agreed as he rose. "We can begin at the top and work down."
Aya paused, looking down at Cye expectantly. He smiled back up at the redhead, offering out his half-eaten breakfast. "At least finish your muffin on the way upstairs."
A short time later saw them at the end of the upper hall, staring up at the inky entrance at the top of the pull-down ladder. "I don't suppose you want to go first?" Cye asked, only half joking.
A flat look was his only response. "Fine," he grumbled, stepping carefully onto the stairs, "But if something up there eats me it's going to be all your fault." A little fumbling against the dark walls found a familiar switch and he snapped the light on.
"Oh my..."
The room was huge, much larger than the attic at home, and stuffed to the rafters with boxes, trunks, containers of all shapes and sizes. There were lifetimes worth of material here, much more than they could hope to go through in a day.
Behind him, Aya appeared at the top of the fragile steps, blinking around in the soft light at the piles of boxes and trunks. His curious frown spoke volumes of questions, but he climbed up. "If the house is familiar to you, and that room is familiar to me, is this meant to be ours as well?" Amid all the packages and things, his soft voice was even further muffled. The attic was warm and musty-smelling as attics generally are, but had not a single window to give outside light. The hushing silence of the things surrounding them lent a very private air to the entire room.
Aya came up alongside him, hands in his jeans pockets as he suspiciously surveyed the items. "Well?" the swordsman prompted again, tersely. Looking around for anything familiar, Cye spied a small album, perched haphazardly on a pile of boxes.
"Oh my..." Cye repeated, as he sat crosslegged on the floor and reached reverently for the book. He settled it in his lap, flipping the pages slowly, awed. "How?"
Curious in spite of himself, Aya crouched down, looking over Cye's shoulder. Each page held photographs, most having a dark-haired man and a smiling auburn haired woman. Later pictures included a pretty, young girl and a laughing little boy with bright sea-green eyes and reddish hair.
"I haven't seen most of these in years," Cye breathed softly. "My mother got rid of most of the pictures and things after my father died. I was too little to understand why. My aunt saved a few, since she knew Mother would want them eventually, but there aren't very many." He flipped a few more pages then closed the book. He set it down carefully by the stairs and smiled. "Let's see what else there is."
Rather near him, looking into his eyes, it almost looked as if Aya was ready to smile back at him. He fixed Cye with the oddest little look, head slightly tilted so that the long teardrop earring he wore dangled free and threatened to tangle up with one of his long forelocks. One or two heartbeats passed in silence before Aya rose up again and began to paw through boxes and trunks.
~*~*~*~
Strange. That was the only word to describe this place. Everything here was neatly packed up and hidden away, yet still seemed oddly comfortable. The very containers felt familiar, though none had any identifying marks. The entire effect was disconcerting, Aya decided as he wandered through the aisles and corridors created by stacked packaging.
One small trunk perched on top of a few other boxes caught his eye. Curiously, he lifted the latch as quietly as he could, to avoid attracting the attention of Cye just a few feet away.
Raising the lid, he caught a whiff of a soft, feminine scent, and a brief glimpse of a violet fabric.
Quickly he snapped the lid shut again, closing his eyes and gulping a few deep breaths to calm his suddenly pounding heart. No, it could not have been Aya-chan's festival kimono. Not only was it impossible for the thing to be here, in this cursed house, but... but he had burned it himself! He'd destroyed the garment in a fit of self-pity not long after the accident. It was gone, ashes, cinders, burnt to nothing. It could not be here.
Yet Aya could not bring himself to open the small trunk again. Hastily he shoved it behind a few other boxes, covering it up completely. He never wanted to see it again, and the last thing he needed was for Cye to get curious about it.
Better that he distract the boy with something else. A larger steamer trunk caught his eye, and Aya bent to push it out into the cleared space in the center of the room. "Here," he lied cleanly to Cye, bumping his leg a bit. "This looks familiar."
They sat together on the floor, Aya hoping that his still pounding heart wasn't causing a flush in his cheeks. If he stayed tacit and calm, Cye would never discover that he'd found something important to him.
So far, the entire house seemed to be familiar and homey for Cye. Almost nothing, though, seemed designed to put Aya at ease. Even the eerie similarity of the room he slept in to his room above the flower shop made him nervous.
Cye insisted that there was nothing in the house that meant to hurt them, that it was all there to put them at ease. So why were the only things familiar to him things that hurt? The candy his sister had loved... the kimono she was wearing the night of the accident. Why was he being tormented?
Cye flipped open the lid of the trunk and pulled out a pair of soft black leather pants. He held them up, noting the length and low cut waist. "Ick, slut clothes," he said with a grin. "Let me guess, that lanky blond of yours? They're much to long for any of us."
"Hmf," Aya said, frowning out of his reverie. "They belong to Balinese."
Cye looked at him oddly, confused. Good. Aya was frustrated and there was no one else to take it out on. "The blond? His name is 'Balinese'?"
"Yes."
"Aya, it is not. That's not a name, that's a cat. It's not even a cat's name, it’s a breed of cat."
"I know that."
"His name is not really 'Balinese'," Cye insisted, digging a little deeper and pulling out a few choice items. "What is this obsession he has with crop tops? If these and that horrid sweater you're wearing are any indication, at least two of you need someone to dress you."
"He dresses like that to attract women."
"Pardon?" Cye certainly hadn't been expecting him to say that, and Aya felt a smug little sense of self-satisfaction growing in his breast. This boy had flustered him often enough in the past three days. Surely it was Aya's turn to do a bit of confusing.
Calmly, gesturing to the tight pants and tiny shirt, Aya explained, "He shows off his body because he feels his heart is inadequate. He feels he is only good for one thing, though he would not admit it. He feels that love is out of his reach forever, and tries to compensate with the act of love rather than the emotions."
Cye blinked, clearly as surprised at the volume of words as their content. "Aya, that's... " he paused, mulling over his words. "That's awful. Besides, it's not entirely up to him to decide that love is out of reach, the people around him would have a pretty big say it in." He frowned, digging a little deeper into the trunk. "If you've got a soul there's always hope, even if the person's been lost for a long time."
"And if the soul is black?" Aya asked softly. "Tainted beyond redemption?"
Cye snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "Aya, I know of a man that spent four hundred years in service to a demon so black it tried to destroy the world. In the end he found his heart and gave his life to save us all. There is no such thing as being unredeemable, not if you're willing."
Aya just looked at the boy. The more he let Cye talk, the more nearly delusional things he tended to say. The other day, when he'd told the story of his mystical armor and the soul-deep bond with his friends, at least he'd had proof to back it up. Aya had seen the armor, and witnessed the unearthly glow of the kanji mark on Cye's forehead. Those things he would not have believed without having seen them.
Still, it was not in Cye to lie. Guilt would eat at the young man if he were making up stories, of that much Aya was certain. Perhaps he only saw things differently. After all, Esstset could be described as a hundreds-years-old demon in the proper context. Musing, brooding over this, Aya had stayed silent too long, and Cye was chatting away again.
"Anyway," Torrent said brightly, as if to clear the gloom of the topic. "What about this one?" he inquired, pulling out an orange sweatshirt as bright as the one Aya was wearing. He pushed it at Aya, challenging him to claim it.
"Siberian," he answered smoothly.
"You have another friend named 'Siberian'?"
"Yes."
"Oh, fine. Siberian it is. What about this?" Cye yanked a small pink snow cap out of the trunk, shaking it so the pompon on top bobbed. "Calico's, I presume?"
"Bombay."
"You really are the strangest person." He grinned suddenly. "Do you have a cute little kitty name too?"
Aya narrowed his eyes at the boy, glaring. How dare he? How dare he pry like that, poking at the barrier around the dark parts of Aya's soul? Didn't he know, as a warrior and a fighter, that innocence should be protected -- even his own?
"I am not cute," Aya snapped at him. "Nor am I little. Nor am I anything like a kitten."
He could see that Cye was taken aback by his sudden frosty response, when the mood had been light and teasing just moments before. The young man frowned at Aya, and a tickle in his chest warned him to tread carefully. He'd known the boy long enough to recognize that thoughtful expression that always meant something difficult and trying was coming next.
"Codenames," Cye finally said, with that direct, disconcerting look. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You don't want me to know their real names, so you told me their codenames instead. But you won't tell me yours because..." Cye drifted off, coming back into focus and looking intently at Aya. "Why? I know it's a secret but why on earth wouldn't you trust me? Did you forget what I showed you already?"
A scowl was Aya's only defense against his companion's tendency toward pointed, stinging questions. "That is none of your concern." Abruptly he got up, slamming the lid of the trunk shut and moving to shove it back into the mass of other containers.
He knew too much already. He had known too much when he saw Weiss in that alley, when he saw the dead man and Aya's sword stained with blood. Now he knew too much about Aya. Personal things, private things, things that he'd shared with only a handful of people, things that no one had wanted in a very long time.
No one had ever been so persistent with him. No one had tried so hard to crack through the frosty exterior that he showed the world, nor spent so much time trying to get to know *Aya*, the person inside. Cye looked right through the collection of circumstance and habits, trying to see Aya himself. No one had wanted what was inside Aya in a long, long time.
Aya hadn't encouraged any potential seekers, either. Nothing of value lay at the end of Cye's quest. It was fruitless for him to seek something that wasn't there. Aya clenched his hands tightly, beating fists once against the trunk in his frustration. He couldn't express that to the other boy. He didn't have the words to tell Cye to give up on him.
The last thing Aya expected were the gentle arms that wrapped around his middle, and the warm cheek that pressed against his back. Cye's presence soaked the angry tension away, leaving him as weak as if he'd kissed the breath out of him.
~*~*~*~
"You're thinking too hard again," Cye purred as he came up behind Aya and wrapped his arms around the other boy. He ran his hands over the sweater covered chest and stood on his toes just a little to breath in his ear. "Come downstairs with me... I want to show you something." Those hands skimmed lightly over the strong chest and flat stomach. One hand stayed to stroke gentle fingertips over the smooth expanse of flesh, the other dipped lower to cup his groin softly.
Aya stood stiffly, surprised by Cye's sudden advance. He turned his face forward, gulping down a deep breath, but he was responding. The handful of denim was warm and growing firmer under Cye's touch. His fingertips were caressing the trembling skin of the redhead's chest, brushing the pounding pulse of his heartbeat.
Overwhelming the stoic boy like this seemed the surest way to excite him. All he needed was an adversary, as Cye was beginning to understand. Aya needed someone who could beat him and triumph over him. The moment he thought he could escape, he probably would and Cye was not about to let that happen. Oh no, if Aya needed someone to claim him, Cye most certainly would oblige.
"Now would be nice," Cye breathed. "The taste I got of you yesterday wasn't nearly enough and I'm not about to wreck my knees on a wood floor. Downstairs." The cupping hand increased its grip slightly, turning into a full deep grope. "Now."
He steered Aya down the stairs carefully, recapturing his hold on the redhead's heat as soon as they were safely off the ladder. He was pushed gently into the living room and down onto the couch. Cye sat on his lap, legs folded to kneel, trapping Aya's legs between his own. One arm snaked around to grab a handful of hair and tip Aya's head back. He rocked against Aya slowly and leaned forward, breathing in tickling whispers. "You're hard again, pretty one. I think I'll have to do something about that."
Aya gasped and pushed feebly at his chest, hardly using the full strength of those well-muscled arms. His struggle today was even less convincing than it had been the day before. Even now he was moving back against Cye, proving the truth of what Cye had just said with the hardness hidden under his jeans.
He sucked an earlobe gently, rubbing against the redhead, listening for the soft gasp. Cye worked around to his mouth slowly, stopping to kiss and lick at his jawline and chin. When he reached Aya's mouth he pressed forward, gently as the day before and felt the other's lips part hesitantly. He slid his tongue along the channel, barely tasting and entered smoothly, caressing the older boy's mouth with his, claiming him again.
Cye released the boy's hair and slipped his hands under the sweater, caressing and kneading the soft skin. For someone who looked so pale, Aya was so very warm. He soothed the slightly trembling muscle, moving his hands in time with his mouth. The sweater was worked off slowly, exposing sculpted alabaster to the warm summer sun filtering in through the nearby window.
"Beautiful," Cye murmured as he left Aya's mouth to work down his neck.
Breathless, he heard the soft voice begin, "That is no--"
The argument from above was quickly silenced by a hard bite to the redhead's neck. "Oh no," Cye purred, lapping at the reddening mark, "I told you, no protests. I want to hear nothing but panting and moans." He slid down a little farther, licking his way over collarbones, starting down the smooth chest.
Cye slid down off his lap to kneel between the legs he'd parted gently. He ran teasing kisses over Aya's pale stomach, tracing the hard muscle underneath. He kneaded the redhead's thighs, getting him used to the touch and slid one hand up to rub the hard length under black cotton. He dipped lower, swirling his tongue in the other boy's navel before taking the waist of Aya's pants in his teeth. He smiled, still stroking softly, at Aya's startled gasp as he pulled the top button open.
He lipped the zipper, catching it between his teeth and drew it down slowly. Cye nuzzled the loose flaps of cloth open, rubbing the tented briefs with his cheek, kittenish. The stifled panting from above was driving him wild and he needed sharp control to keep from just tearing the obstructing cloth away. He looked up then and smiled. Aya was sitting with head thrown back, eyes squeezed tightly shut and his hands were trembling, fisted tightly at his sides. If just this little bit had already gotten to him this much....
He eased his hands up, hooking them under Aya's pants and underthings, tugging a little. "Lift up your hips for me, luv," he breathed. A moment's hesitation and Aya obeyed, a faint scarlet spreading over his cheeks. Cye worked his pants and underwear off slowly, past his perfect little bare feet, dropping everything in a crumpled heap on the floor. He sucked in a startled gasp of his own, gazing at the long, pale, redheaded beauty stretched out before him. "Beautiful," he whispered, stroking his hands up the length of those long, perfect legs.
Aya was now as flaming red as his hair, head turned to the side, eyes still tightly shut. The fists at his sides stayed clenched, and the rest of his body was trembling. He was strung as tight as a bow, with just the slightest arch of his lovely back to complete the image. The full exposure had him tense, but the promise of pleasure kept him in place.
[Hmm... I'll have to get him over that embarrassment,] Cye thought, as he continued drinking in the sight. [I'm certainly not going to stop wanting to see all this lovely skin in the sun.] The thought of having Aya in the summer sun, on the beach or better, in the rose arbor made him shiver. [Time to get his attention back] Cye thought as he leaned forward. He lapped softly, just at the head of Aya's straining erection, and was rewarded by a deep throated moan and a pair of shocked violet eyes.
"What... what are you..." Aya's mouth worked for a moment and then shut, clearly too surprised by the idea to form a complete thought, let alone an entire sentence. Distressed, he began to shift his hips, trying to pull away. Too much pleasure, not enough pressure. He would need a little more pushing and struggling before he'd give in and let go as Cye wanted him to.
"Shhh," Cye murmured soothingly as he pinned Aya's legs firmly under his hands. He had a feeling the swordsman was going to be a squirmer. Torrent leaned forward again, this time for a broad lick up the underside from root to crown. Taking the startled gasp as encouragement he tongued the soft, alabaster skin teasingly, tasting, exploring, learning every curve of the pale, perfect length. One hand crept up to fondle the crinkled sac lightly, rewarding him with another soft moan.
Cye took his time, drawing on every skill he had to totally overwhelm the other boy. Aya was moaning steadily before long, quiet, soft little sounds that said he was too flushed and needing to even think about protests. When the redhead's hips started to twitch of their own accord it was time to step things up. Cye wet one finger and pressed it low, seeking delicately for the entrance. On finding it he pressed forward, sliding in just past the tight ring. He opened his mouth then, taking Aya down completely, sliding him easily into his throat.
His efforts were rewarded with a full-throated cry and a sharp arch of the swordsman's back. Cye had him now completely at his mercy. Aya knew he couldn't get away, and by now he didn't want to. That finger inside him was making him react strongly though, squirming and at least making a show of trying to escape. Cye felt long, slim fingers slipping almost shyly into his hair. Delicate fingertips brushed his scalp, sending delicious shivers down his back as he worked his captive. Sweeter even still were the soft panting sounds spilling from Aya's lips, so quiet that Cye could barely make out the sound under the deafening pulse of his own pounding heart.
"P... please... Cye..."
Breathless, tiny as a newborn kitten's voice, and choked into unwillingness, but there it was. A plea, just a few words that cracked Aya's icy exterior. Aya wanted.
Cye moaned softly at the plea, the low vibration in his throat prompting another ragged cry from Aya. He sucked in deeply, working him hard with pressure and tongue. He pressed in deeper, squirming his finger forward and rubbing hard once he found what he was looking for.
Aya fisted his hands tightly in Cye's hair for an instant, his only warning before the onslaught. With a deep, ragged moan, he buried his cock in Cye's mouth and went perfectly still. Tiny sobs of completion pulsed from his lips as the hard flesh throbbed, spilling sweet liquid heat in rushing waves. Around Cye's fingers the muscles were contracting in time, matching the steady rhythm of the swordsman's heartbeat.
Tasting and touching, Cye was able to share in those few blissful moments of perfect synchronicity. He swallowed greedily, surprised at how much he'd missed this after only a few days. He lapped softly for a few moments and withdrew gently. He laid his head on Aya's thigh and closed his eyes, absorbing the faint trembles and soft panting.
Those fingers were still in his hair, but looser now and resting quietly instead of pulling. Somewhere inside, those fingertips promised silently, somewhere in this tightly-controlled and distant man, there is gentleness. There could be tenderness, if he could only be reminded where it had been hidden.
Aya sat up, dislodging Cye from where he'd been laying. The first thing he reached for was his underwear, not even bothering to glance down.
Cye fell back, landing on his rear. He blinked up at Aya for a moment, then shook his head as the other boy shoved into his underwear quickly and grabbed for his pants. "You know," he said in a conversational tone, "Most people at least take a minute to enjoy the aftermath." He clambered to his feet and pushed Aya back down on the couch. "Don't be in such a hurry."
Aya looked about ready to snap out a sharp protest, but something in the younger boy's expression told him to not bother. Perhaps the cool and proper swordsman had finally decided that dashing off after such an experience could be considered rude. He settled back down, uncomfortable with his lack of a shirt and eyed the boy who'd curled up on the other end of the couch.
Cye, for his part, was having a hard time restraining himself. One half of him was whining that it had been days since he'd really been touched. The other was firmly slapping the first voice down, saying that he was taking advantage of Aya as it was. It didn't help either that last night and just now had given him a raging erection that he couldn't do anything about. Cye shifted a little uncomfortably. He'd sit here and be with Aya and make him less uneasy. He was not about to ask him for a return favor; he'd send the redhead screaming for sure.
Aya’s eyes were half closed, and he looked exhausted again. Intimacy seemed to take a great deal out of him -- probably mentally as well as physically. Cye watched him, staring at that expanse of creamy, muscular chest and longing to touch. He squirmed a little more, sighing at the unrelieved tightness in his jeans. Maybe if Aya just fell asleep again, he could touch himself while looking -- no! Aya would never forgive him for that!
Perhaps it was the look on his face or the extreme discomfort he was in, Cye wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, Aya chose that moment to slide a little closer, resting a tentative hand on his thigh, testing the unfamiliar feel of it.
Cye looked up at him, puzzled. "Aya?"
"You have been denied so far," Aya pointed out, still awkwardly resting a hand on Cye's thigh. His attempt at seduction was so minimal it was almost funny. Not that Cye needed a great deal of convincing right now. Without meeting his eyes, Aya admitted, "Pleasure should be reciprocated."
Much to Aya's surprise, Cye met his eyes and blushed. "You... don't have to," he said softly. "I didn't do that to make you feel obligated." He couldn't stop the gasp though as that hand crept up just a little farther, not quite touching him but so close...
"I am not questioning your intentions," Aya snapped back at him, then glanced away and frowned. The instant expression of regret and self-recrimination told Cye that the man hadn't meant to be so sharp with him. He stayed quiet, letting Aya try again.
"The experience is not completely new to me." Well, that was a relief. At least he'd had some intimate experience in his life. Cye looked on curiously as Aya struggled, trying to voice as simple a thing as an offer. "However, previous... that is, in other situations..."
Aya was having a terribly difficult time with this, and as before when he choked up on words, the swordsman got angry. He tried to push Cye back, eyes narrowed in frustration. Cye caught his hands and held him fast. "Tell me. Just take a deep breath and say it."
"I..." Well, there was the first problem -- Aya seemed to have a strong aversion to using first person unless he was denying something about himself. Now that the word was out of the way, he tumbled on, "I was told before that I do this incorrectly."
Sea green met violet with an expression of utter astonishment. "Doing it wrong?" Cye said slowly, as if he didn't believe the words. "Someone said you did it wrong, and gave no offer to help or teach you how or anything?" At Aya's mute, embarrassed nod his expression darkened. "What an absolute bloody barbarian!" he exclaimed. "How incredibly rude..." Cye looked back up at Aya and smiled. "Well, if you'd like I have no problem teaching you... Just let me move a little."
He got up off the couch and sat in the huge recliner across from it. He had no idea where Rowan had found the original and wasn't sure he'd wanted to ask. The softly worn blue upholstery was silk soft and it was big enough to fit two. It was an incredible pain to move and, incidentally, was the site of the pulse-pounding dream he'd had yesterday morning.
He draped himself into the chair and looked up. "Come here," he said softly. Aya slid over a little stiffly, starting to redden just a little. He knelt on the carpet in front of the chair, much as Cye had. "First lesson," Cye said, reaching down to take his hands, "Is clothes. You don't have to do anything fancy but undressing someone, if you take your time, always feels good." He pulled Aya's hands up to the hem of his shirt and let go.
Hesitantly, Aya started to push the t-shirt up. He nearly drew his hands back again, startled by the soft sigh that Cye couldn't help as he touched bare skin. He worked Cye's shirt off a little awkwardly and ran his hands curiously down the boy's bare chest. His frown of concentration was nothing short of adorable, and his small startle when Cye arched under his touch was absolutely priceless. Next, Aya reached for Cye's pants and opened them with that same soft hesitation, encouraged in each step by Cye's own natural reactions. Cye lifted his hips without being asked and Aya slid the pants off onto the floor. He glanced away then, clearly unnerved by the sight of bare boy in the living room, lit by midmorning sun.
Cye drew in a deep breath, fighting for control. Those soft, tentative touches were driving him insane. He took another steadying breath and closed his eyes. "Lesson two," he said, "Is touch. You've got an idea of the basics, having the bits in question yourself, but it's different from guy to guy. I think you'd be more comfortable if I don't watch but I will let you know what's good." He smiled, still with eyes closed. "Take as much time as you like."
He waited for a breathless moment, afraid that Aya was going to back out, and let out a breathless moan at the first feather-light touch. He dug his nails into the chair arms, trying not to buck up into the cupping hand. He couldn't stop the squirm as that hand closed around him and gave a tentative stroke.
"God, Aya..." he moaned. "That's... that's just right, nice and easy." The words trailed off into another moan as he was stroked a little harder and fingertips skimmed lightly over his sac. "L..lesson three," he said with a stutter, trying to talk instead of pant. "Mouth... Starting slow is good, like licking ice cream or soft kisses. D... don't suck to hard at first or take too much. That comes with pra...UNNHHHHH." This time he couldn't stop the jerk upwards as a warm tongue ran the length of him in one broad swipe.
He fell back, gasping, "Yes, oh yes, just like that, please." He squirmed again as that wonderful mouth worked, covering every inch in wet strokes. He wanted desperately to look but kept his eyes tightly shut. He wouldn't risk doing anything that might make Aya stop. A warm breath of air was all the warning he had before Aya's mouth descended over him, tongue dabbing slowly at the slit, tasting curiously.
"Oh... Oh Aya..." He moaned, twitching, trying not to thrust upwards. "Please...please more... god..." Whoever said he did it wrong lied.
Cye's world narrowed to Aya's mouth on him. He reached down, twining that red, red hair through his fingers as that mouth slowly descended. His legs trembled, strained with the effort of staying still, resisting the urge to drive up. He was harder than he could remember being, desperate to rip Aya's mouth away, rip those tight jeans off and flip him on his back. He groaned again, as much from the image as from the beautiful pressure as Aya started sucking harder.
"Yes..." He hissed, panting in earnest, barely able to draw breath. Dimly he felt a touch, a touch that crept forward to brush the sensitive skin right behind his balls. A hoarse, choked cry was to only warning Aya received as Cye's world when white and he spasmed, spilling hard into the boy's hot mouth.
A gasping, shuddering eternity later, he opened his eyes, dazed. Aya still sat on the floor, legs tucked neatly underneath him, watching the other boy uncertainly. Cye smiled and took hold of Aya's arms, pulling him up and half onto his lap. He kissed the redhead firmly, still able to taste a faint trace of himself. "Thank you," he said fervently. "That was absolutely wonderful."
~*~*~*~
Kisses. A warm mouth fasted to his, strong arms gathering him close. Cye wanted him close. Even though it was over now, and Cye was tucking his head under Aya’s chin, his presence was requested in the gentle embrace and the soft cheek nuzzling his shoulder.
And here was Aya, sitting in another man's lap with the taste of his orgasm still in his mouth, being held and petted and praised. Well done? Wonderful? Of all the strange and impossible things that had happened to him over the last few days, this moment suddenly took its place as the single oddest event to transpire. He didn't want to be here. He was stiff and uncomfortable and his knees were bent oddly and...
And Cye was so strangely warm and relaxing, unashamed of his nakedness as he cradled Aya in his arms. It struck him then that he was uncomfortable because his knees were bent oddly and he was stiff. Perhaps if he shifted just so... there. And tucked his feet under the cushion... so. And let his shoulders relax under the warmth of the sun outside... oh.
It was so nice. Like being warm and comfortable in bed, only mattresses and sheets didn't hold one in return and kiss one's collarbone. His bed didn't run the most distracting light touches up and down his spine. This was something so far out of Aya's experience that he had no response.
He watched the boy rest against him for a few more moments before the absurdly simple truth struck him. Cye was holding him here because Cye thought he would run away, and Cye wanted him to stay. Cye wanted... him. Cye wanted him! The thought sent a strange shiver through him as he realized, really realized, that he did have some measure of power over the talkative boy. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach, a peculiar feeling that he couldn't put a name to.
Aya sank a little deeper into Cye's embrace, closing his eyes. A triumphant kind of feeling filled him, as if he’d just completed a mission and conquered something important. Perhaps if he gained a little control over this... whatever this was that was developing with Cye, he might find a way to regain his control over the entire situation as well. With that reassurance in mind, Aya found the peace to relax, if even for just a few minutes, in Cye's arms.
[ on to chapter 7 ]