Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
Quiet was a good word to describe the last few days, Cye thought as he started cleaning breakfast dishes. It had been four days... or was it five days since they found the library? It was getting harder to keep track the longer they were there. The days were golden afternoons and quiet nights with little to mark the passing of time. Curiously enough, he had a hard time thinking when he tried to keep track. The thought just slid away when his attention was distracted. Cye thought it best to not mention this little fact to Aya.
In the aftermath of that lovely afternoon there had been a flurry of activity. Aya had insisted on searching the house from top to bottom, leaving nothing, no matter how small, untouched. They'd even spent another day out of the house, scouring the country nearby for any clue on how to leave. Cye had taken another day to search the coast. Aya had lapsed into silence again when their search turned up empty, retreating to the garden and tending it almost obsessively.
Cye was reduced to fidgeting longing again.
There had been some contact, as they'd fallen into a routine of spending the evenings in the library. They would both sit quietly on the couch reading, sometimes sharing things of particular interest. Cye had been hesitant to push, knowing that falling asleep on Aya's shoulder had probably made the swordsman uncomfortable. Aya had been a little more open to casual touch, accepting the occasional brief hug or touch while they were reading as something Cye needed. But Cye had been firm in his resolve to be good. He'd already pushed harder and faster than he ordinarily would, and it wasn't fair to use Aya to curb his own loneliness. Even if the redhead did carbonate his hormones just by breathing.
As he finished tidying he looked over at Aya. The other boy was putting away the dishes he quietly insisted on drying. That had certainly been odd. After supper that night Aya had begun cleaning up with him, ignoring Cye's protests that while it was appreciated, he really didn't need to trouble himself. That statement was met by one of Aya's inscrutable looks and Cye decided to drop it. If it made Aya happy to help then Cye didn't mind, even if he did think the mess wasn't nearly enough to bother two people about it.
"Aya?" he asked as the last dish was put away. "Are you going out to the garden again today?"
"Yes," Aya said quietly. After a moment he spoke again, "Several beds are overgrown and those seedlings need transplanting. It will take some time."
"Well... I was wondering if you'd like some help. You can show me what to do. I just don't want to stay inside again, and I never thought I'd say this, but I don't feel like swimming."
"If you like," came the soft reply. Not terribly encouraging, but at least it wasn't silence or a flat no.
Twenty minutes later, after everything had been tidied and Cye had changed into clothes he didn't mind getting grubby, he met Aya outside.
And stared, baffled, at his assigned duty. A four by eight plot had been neatly marked out on an empty spot and a shovel and mattock lay next to it. He'd been told by that cool voice that the bed needed to be prepared before the plants could be moved. He was to dig it out to a depth of six inches so the plain dirt could be replaced by a topsoil and fertilizer mix. And to please keep the edges neat if he could. Aya would then begin the more delicate business of transplanting the seedlings.
"Aya," Cye said, staring at the shovel with barely concealed loathing. "You're kidding right? Isn't there something else I can do? Maybe water the plants or something?"
"You wanted to help."
"Well... yes."
"Then dig."
And that had been the end of that. Cye had squinted up at the sky as he picked up the shovel. Today, of all days, was going to be a scorcher.
~*~*~*~
The warm morning had promised a hot day, and in anticipation of this Aya had forgone his usual long-sleeved black shirts. Today was a day for an older white t-shirt and blue jeans. He did not let Cye see him rub sunscreen into his arms, neck, and face. He would not go shirtless, but neither did he want to burn.
It was with no small amount of smug satisfaction that Aya marked out the plot he intended Cye to work today. Even for someone used to garden work, the task would be tedious and unpleasant. Just the sort of thing to make someone else do. And the look on the boy's face had been entirely worth it. That moment of wide-eyed surprise and the resultant wheedling had definitely softened the annoyance inside.
That annoyance, he knew, was born of frustration. There was no way out of this place. The harder Aya searched, the further away a solution seemed. He was confined to this house and garden, with no way of knowing if his team was looking for him... and no way of knowing how his sister was faring.
Though these thoughts needled at him, each day they seemed a bit farther away. Despite it all, at least his company was tolerable. As he bent over the sprouting seedlings, Aya stole a glance at Cye. His companion had taken up the shovel as if it were going to bite him, and made the first small digs toward the completion of the much larger project. He did not look happy at all about it, but Aya recognized the determined set to his jaw. It was the same look he had worn when slowly seducing Aya.
Strangely, though, Cye had stopped pushing him after those first few encounters. Aya was unsure, now, exactly what was expected of him. Did Cye consider Aya his boyfriend? Or just a convenient release of tension? If this was a relationship, shouldn't they be... closer somehow?
Brooding over this, Aya was startled by Cye's soft grunt of discomfort a few minutes later. Looking up again, he noted the boy rubbing his hands together, the handle of the shovel leaning against his legs.
"I'm more used to dishpan hands," Cye explained ruefully, but not without his usual smile. "Water and calluses don't tend to mix."
Aya rose without a word, going to his tub of gardening supplies -- the evolution of the basket he had found a few days ago. A pair of gloves were produced and handed over to Cye, who took them gratefully. Their fingers briefly touched, and Aya heard himself sigh a little at the contact.
Cye looked up at him with that open, honest expression, and leaned up to peck a kiss to Aya's nose. "Thanks."
Something about him, the kind smile or the sparkling eyes, the small snub nose or the affectionate gesture itself, sparked a flash of memory in Aya's mind. Aya-chan would have done the same silly kind of thing to her reserved older brother, and laughed it off as easily as Cye was doing now. She had delighted in the playful and whimsical. For a moment, Cye seemed so much the same that it was painful to look at him.
But look he did, staring into those cheerful sea-green eyes, staring at that bright little smile. He could not stop the staring any more than he could help the tight expression of anxiety that slowly took over his face. Seconds passed, and Cye tipped his head, concern coloring his features. "Aya? What is it? Have I done something stupid?"
"No." Aya turned away quickly, striding back to the work he'd assigned himself. Maybe the boy had learned by now not to pry. It was a foolish hope, but Aya hung on to it anyway, willing Cye to stay quiet with all his might.
The sound of the shovel hitting the dirt began again, and Aya started to relax. Cye had learned a good deal about him in the days... week? Was it a week yet since they'd come to this place? Aya found he could no longer recall.. He tried to count backwards from today, but the afternoons spent in the garden or wandering the beach with Cye, and the evenings curled up on the library couch all ran together. Had he finished three books so far? Four? Was it two or three days since they'd scoured the attic? More than that? Numbers and time had ceased to have much meaning for him.
Behind him, Cye breathed a deep sigh. "Kento would be so much better at this. If he was here, he'd have this all cleared away in no time. But then he'd probably cheat, too." Though his tone was just as sunny as ever, Aya was naturally drawn to the faint twang of longing undercutting the boy's voice. 'If he was here...'
"You miss them a little more each day." Every time Aya said something like that, it seemed to surprise his companion, even though he'd been making such observations for days. He felt rather than saw Cye's unsuspecting start.
"Well," the boy said slowly, "don't you? I mean, aren't there people at home that you miss? Family, or--"
"No." Better to deny it, Aya decided swiftly. Better to keep the secret of his sister safe from Cye's prying mind. Yet the memory of Cye chatting away and revealing everything to him, that day in the bath, rose up along with a faint twinge of regret. Cye trusted him, and Aya was not returning that trust. He couldn't. It was too much to ask.
~*~*~*~
[Idiot,] Cye thought as he attacked the project again with renewed strength, ignoring the twinges in his hands. [How is it I seem to always ask him the entirely wrong things. Of course he doesn't have something back there. This place seems to be made of fond memories and home, and it's almost all mine. All I've seen of his are some random pictures, a trunk of clothes and that blasted candy tin that he hasn't touched since the first day.] He slowed his pace a little, cutting out the edges carefully, determined to do a good job. It wasn't much but he felt an odd need for Aya's approval.
A few minutes later he dropped the shovel again, shaking out his aching hands. He was hot, uncomfortable and starting to get surly. The frequent immersion in the water that was home to him had never allowed his hands to toughen. His armor had always protected them over the long days when he'd still gone armed. He could still feel the touch of Aya's wonderful hands, striped with the same lines and ridges that Ryo and Sage's had.
[Probably thinks this is pathetic,] Cye thought as he peeled one glove off and inspected his palm. Red but not blistered yet, good enough. He peeled his shirt off and wiped his face, scowling up at the sun. Of course it would be hot today, as if the sun itself was trying to rub in his discomfort a little more.
He tossed his shirt to the ground and picked up the shovel again. His project was barely a quarter of the way along. Now, if he could only concentrate on that and keep his mouth shut...
Something was niggling in the back of Cye's mind as he kept up the grumpy mental tirade against hot sun and menial labor. Something was not quite right. Aya was silent. Well, Aya was usually silent, that in itself was nothing new. But there was no sound in the garden other than the rhythmic shove and lift of Cye's digging. No shifting or clipping sounds from Aya's direction as there had been for most of the morning. Curiously, Cye looked up.
He met a pair of wide violet eyes staring back at him. Not at his face, however -- in fact, Aya didn't even seem to register Cye's glance. His gaze was locked on Cye's chest and shoulders, just *staring*. Momentarily confused, Cye almost said something, but that stare was so appreciative that he lingered under it a moment longer. It was nice, a little strange, but nice, to be the one stared at for once. Instead of, say, Sage.
It wasn't as if Aya hadn't seen him naked more than once, though. Granted, those times had been in the bath, or in the living room, in the dim memory of a few days ago. Aya had never seen him in the sun, a bit sweaty, and now lightly tanned from the days he'd spent outdoors since their last intimate time together.
Cye cleared his throat and gave the swordsman a puzzled look, "Umm, Aya? Do I have a big bug on me or something? You look a little odd."
Aya nearly jumped to his feet, dropping the small trowel he'd been clutching, and peeling off his gardening gloves. "Iced tea," was all he said as he strode past, back to the house. Cye shook his head with a soft, amused smile and went back to digging.
~*~*~*~
Once, a few months previous, Aya had the bad luck to be scheduled in the flower shop with Ken while the World Cup finals were on television. He had the sneaking suspicion that Omi and Yohji had conspired against him because neither of them could stand their teammate's enthusiasm for the game.
For three hours he had been subjected to a constant stream of chatter about the two teams, their statistics and tendencies, their histories and records, before the game had even begun. Once the match was on, the frequency and volume of Ken's exclamations had risen to an almost deafening level. No less than seven times did Ken send a chair clattering to the floor when jumping out of it, and no less than ten delicate flowers had fallen victim to his raucous enthusiasm. Three customers were nearly mauled. It had been the longest afternoon of Aya's life.
Until today.
A quick trip to get something to drink and cool himself off had become a longer excursion for lunch and snacks, when Aya simply could not shake the sun-golden image of shirtless Cye from his mind. The view was burned there, stuck in his mind to hang like a schoolgirl's pin-up behind his lids whenever he closed his eyes. He even tried to picture that excruciating afternoon with Ken, just to get the image out of his head. Even that did not work.
So he endured the afternoon, working with Cye, who did not complain about his task again the entire time. In fact, a pleasant surprise overtook the boy when Aya brought out some carefully-wrapped spring rolls and fruit for lunch, and seemed to linger on even after the food was gone. Cye was downright cheerful all afternoon, especially after the plot was dug out and Aya had him watering the seedlings he was transplanting.
The cheerfulness was only part of the reason that the afternoon had seemed to drag on forever. Aya was able to deal with Cye's chattering -- he had lived with Omi and Yohji after all, whom he was certain were the two most talkative beings on the planet. It was the overpowering scent whenever Cye drew near that kept time from passing normally. He smelled of salt and cool depths, of thunderstorms, of damp soil freshly turned up to be kissed by rainwater. The sight of him, the *scent* of him was so distracting that Aya barely heard a word he said all afternoon.
At last, the work was done and Aya was free. He had hurried to the shower to clean off and cool down, neatly avoiding Cye, who chose the other bathroom for his rinse. Now the sun was setting, Aya was clothed in long-sleeved black again, and he stood outside to survey the finished product of the afternoon. The plot *was* quite neatly done, he had to admit to himself. For a beginner. And it lined the path to the rose arbor symmetrically, orderly, almost perfectly.
Following that path, Aya stepped under the trellis to get a look at the seedling plot from the other side, noting uneven lines that had been caused by his distraction with Cye.
The crush of bare feet on the grass sounded just behind him. "It really does look lovely." A light touch brushed the small of his back, and that scent came back in a rush, freshened now by cool water, smelling of the night and promises. Twining with the scent of the roses, the scent of encroaching evening, it was enough to drain the sense from Aya's head, leaving him light and airy-feeling, and not entirely grounded.
Aya looked over his shoulder, keeping his expression carefully placid, only to see Cye pressing lightly up behind him. Heralding the sunset, a cool breeze finally blew through the garden, ruffling the younger boy's hair, making him smile in pleasure.
A moment later they were kissing, and Aya had the sinking feeling that he had initiated it. He was tasting Cye's lips, tracing the faint remnants of the grapes and strawberries from lunch, parting them insistently. Delving inside, he wanted to discover if he could taste that heady scent, drink down the life with which Cye seemed completely infused. Could he pull it into himself, swallow just a spark of it, and maybe... maybe...
Small, strong hands clutching his bottom and kneading firmly brought a rush of pleasure so strong that Aya jerked away, leaving Cye surprised and lightly panting. In the fainting light, those aquamarine eyes nearly glistened, and Aya did the only thing he knew how to do when caught off guard. He glared.
"I know what you want from me," he hissed at Cye, heated with something that was not quite anger. "I know what all of this is leading toward. If we are trapped here long enough, you think you will have it."
By now, Aya knew that the darkening, deepening of those eyes was a clear sign of danger for him. "And what is it, Aya? What is it you think I want? Can you even say it? Do you even want to say it?"
Could he? Did he even know the words? The words he had only read, heard, never spoken himself? Would they form out of his memory at his command?
"You want to have me," he stated, as clinically as he could with this slow boil simmering inside of him. "You want to have sex with me." The words sounded so lifeless coming from him. As if sex were nothing more than an appointment to keep, a duty to perform, another job to finish to while away the time.
The tone shocked Cye, and he set his jaw with a resolve that Aya knew for certain was dangerous. "Do I? Are you so certain that's what I want? Are you such an expert on the topic, or on me for that matter, to be so sure?"
Aya knew he was rising to the boy's bait, but the reaction came naturally despite the cool voice of logic of the back of his mind. "I am far from an expert on the subject, but I can recognize the end result of this process."
Changeable as the breeze, Cye's mood shifted from challenging pressure to genuinely surprised concern. "Aya? You... haven't before, have you? You said you'd done some things, but... you've never gone that far, have you?"
His instinctive glance away would answer the question for Cye. Aya didn't have to say no. Cye already knew.
To his surprise, a feather-light touch traced its way down Aya's cheek, ending with those gentle fingers cupping his chin. His face was turned just as gently, turned back to look at Cye's solemn eyes. "Aya," he said softly. "I don't ever want to do anything that you don't want to do. I didn't come out here and help because I wanted to share a bed with you. I like spending time with you whether there's anything physical involved or not."
Cye's hand traced back up over his cheek, brushing that red, red hair back. "Especially now, I'm not going to lie and say I don't want you. I most certainly do. But I'm not going to push you, and if you decide you want to share that with me it's not going to be a random fuck out on the ground. I just can't do things that way..."
"But you did," Aya interrupted sharply. It was unfair, he knew, to remind Cye of that first night, but the words came forth anyway. "That night you did not care what I wanted. You said as much."
"And I would go back and change it if I could. It's the one thing that's happened here that I regret." Cye didn't look away, meeting his eyes. "You have so much inside... so much untapped that I want to help you find. I feel this wellspring inside of you, this deep-buried thing that... it calls to me, somehow..." Softer and softer his voice became, as that grasp on Aya's chin became a slow caress, gliding from chin to cheekbone and back down again.
Hypnotic, that touch. Soothing, those words that struck Aya so deeply. Cye wanted to reach into him, somehow. He wanted that *thing* inside Aya that he had never been able to share with anyone he was not fighting, not trying to kill. The boy was a warrior. That much he knew from Cye's strength and his strange armor, from his fierce determination and his stories. Could he understand? If Aya tried, just a little bit, and stopped defending the path to his innermost self for just a few moments... could he understand?
"Yes," Aya said in a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper. "It has always been there. Anger, rage, conviction... " Swallowing hard, he found himself holding on tightly to Cye's waist. He could barely force out the last word. " ...passion."
Cye's breath caught, and Aya could feel the electric shiver pass through the both of them at the sound of that single word. Aya let his eyes fall closed, trying to drown out the vision of the young man before him. "Passion for revenge... passion for success... passion for the sword. Always there, a knot inside me, always there when I most needed it." The words no longer sounded like his voice; it was the voice inside his head, the voice with which he only spoke to himself. Here, now, in this place with no one but himself and this boy, could he find the strength to say these things? He may never have another chance. He may never get out of here.
"And now, in that same place, a desire for... I do not know."
Cye's own breathing was increasing in pace, and his voice was a little ragged when he spoke. "It's passion, love... and power, and... God.... longing..."
Aya's breath caught on the last word, surprised. "Yes!" His eyes flew open as he finally discovered a word, the *right* word to put onto that feeling. "Yes, that's... it."
"I... " They stared at each other for a long moment, arms around each other and near enough to kiss. They were breathing the same breath, sharing the same space and moment. That word, that feeling... longing. Did it ring as strongly through Cye as it did through him?
Aya looked away suddenly, struggling to regroup his feelings. Dimly, he heard Cye say his name, rough with something he couldn't truly define.
"Longing..." No other word could label the fire inside him so perfectly. Longing. What for, he did not know. To feel this feeling again, perhaps to never stop feeling it. To always have this pounding of his heart, to always feel this thrilling fear of what the next moment might bring. It was like killing, almost, this rush of adrenaline that stormed him from one moment to the next with purpose, with fire, with... passion.
Cye was stroking his chin again, and Aya was surprised and nearly terrified to feel that his hand was actually trembling. The boy drew in a long, shaky breath, voice rough and reckless. "Aya, I... Do you know what you *do* to me?"
His body's response was a sudden stirring between his legs, a rush of blood and desire. Forcing the movement, Aya lifted one hand and rested his fingertips on the back of Cye's hand, tracing and riding his motions. "I... have an idea."
Cye almost moaned outright then, and Aya could feel the muscled body tense in the light grasp of his arms. Raggedly, he breathed, "Do you... do you know... how badly I ache for you..."
A spike of near-pain flashed sympathetically between his legs. "I understand... ache."
In the silence after those soft words, Aya could almost hear Cye's resolve cracking. His voice broke and he leaned toward Aya, chin tipped up a little bit as if straining to kiss him. His eyes fluttered closed and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of harsh breathing. "Please Aya.... just... God, please, *anything*, I... I can't..."
Aya shifted a brief glance at Cye, studying that look, the flushed lips forming those words. He was so taut, tensed, and poised. Aya would have expected to be pounced by now, but Cye was so still he was shaking. Understanding struck him. "You have been waiting for me to act?"
As if it were the most difficult thing in the world to say, Cye gasped, "I said... I wouldn't... force..."
"As the other day then?" Aya roughed out. "On my knees?"
Cye trembled in his arms, clutching at him. "What... whatever you want..."
Frustration overrode passion for a moment, and Aya reached to tear at Cye's pants. "I told you I do not know what that is! I only know this." He pressed his hand inside Cye's trousers, and the boy lost his ability to stay upright. Together, they sank down to the soft grass, leaning back against the sturdy rose trellis.
Aya grasped the hot, hard flesh still hidden by darkness and fabric, coated by the tiptoeing night and by the denial of his own half-closed eyes. He felt the entire length of it, polishing the smooth skin with a twisting slide of fingers and palm. His fingers brushed crisp little curls against damp, hot skin; he felt the slight stick of Cye's underwear against the back of his hand. This was primal passion, beyond want... this was *need*. Need for him. Need for Aya, and his own need reflected back.
"Touch me, damn you," he hissed in Cye's ear, pulling more roughly on his cock.
Cye stiffened for just a moment against him, but then started scrambling to tear away the layers blocking him. He fumbled his way clear, every moment an agony until finally his hand found Aya's hard flesh and closed on it. A low, moaning shudder passed between them as they pressed closer, each stroking the other, each rocking against the other, giving and getting pleasure in a neverending spiral that could only lift both higher.
Holding him close, stroking him firmly, Cye let Aya rest his forehead on his shoulder. A soft flutter of words whispered past Aya's ear, along the curve of his sensitive neck. "Oh yes... just like that... God, Aya..." His voice rose and fell with the same rhythm they stroked one another, the same rhythm in which they both were breathing and sighing. Cye's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Do you know how badly I want to be in you... "
Aya's groan caught in his throat. The sound of it finally spoken was so good, shooting and spiking pleasure through his entire body. In him... Aya's imagination took over in a flash, conjuring up the feeling of Cye's body over him, those powerful hips between his legs, naked, hot, wet. Suddenly his skin ached for it, his muscles cried out for the pleasure of wrapping around Cye's body while he was taken.
Taken. The very word coursed through him like a blazing comet and trailed after it a new wealth of feelings. Longing to give in, give up, to finally reach the treasure that always seemed to dangle just out of his grasp.
His hand tightened around Cye's sex and he stroked it more quickly. "This... yes, I..." It made no sense, none at all, that something so simply whispered in his ear could cause this much want, for something he had never experienced. "Why... why do I want to give in to you?"
Cye panted against his ear, thrusting up into the tight grip of his hand with renewed vigor. "Be... because..." He moaned, thumbing the tip of Aya's cock, pressing down on the slit and spreading the leaking wet there. "Because you want tight... wet... heat. Because you want...to fill... to be filled. You... you want to see... the ecstasy you cause..."
"Yes!" It was perfect, it was exactly what he wanted, needed, *longed* for with all his might. Cye's fingers shifted once more, and Aya was lost. His hand clasped like a vise around Cye, his other arm clinging to the boy's shoulders... and he shuddered with a sudden and unexpected release. His voice was moaning, chanting without his control or permission, "Cye, Cye, Cye..."
Half a breath later he heard the answering song, accompanied by Cye's hard convulsion. Brought over the edge by Aya's cry, Aya's name is a groaning, guttural moan that poured out his throat as he spilled into Aya's grasp.
He watched that white-hot eruption even as he shook against Cye, gasping a soft little wondering sound. That? That loss of control and complete oblivion was his? He had caused it? Sagging on Cye's shoulder, Aya forgot himself for a few blissful moments as the passing of passion's inferno left him weakened.
Cye tightened his hold around Aya's shoulder, struggling to keep them both upright as they panted against each other. Once, twice more he stroked Aya's softening flesh, and then... Aya could only stare at what the boy did next. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue darted out toward one streaked finger and tasted what Aya had left there. Burning, satiated aquamarine eyes never left his as Cye sucked his fingers clean, one by one. Not only his own, but Aya's as well, lifting Aya's limp wrist while he looked dazedly on.
Cye was nearly purring in pleasure. "So sweet..."
That was the last of Aya's resolve. Any strength he thought he had, any firmness to pull away, was lost with those two quiet words. Weakly, he slumped against Cye's shoulder and closed his eyes. Moments later he was wrapped in strong arms, and gently lowered to the ground. In care of Cye's hands, the both of them were stripped of their shirts. Aya found his head on Cye's chest and his body pressed up along the shorter boy's, but he had no energy to fight it. He lay limply, awkwardly, until Cye arranged his limbs in a more comfortable position.
He was drifting off before he realized it, not quite into sleep but into a hazy after-pleasure that went beyond the release of unconsciousness.
"Rest with me," Aya heard Cye whisper, his voice full and rich. "Rest with me just once... and find peace."
[ on to chapter 9 ]