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Aya had never been to a club like this before. Funny how Yohji had always tried dragging him along, yet here he was at last... alone. It had seemed a good enough idea at first—a place to lose himself, to be someone else. Somewhere no one would expect to see him. Somewhere to be rash and impulsive.
The reality was somewhat daunting. Flashing lights blinded him and hundreds of bodies rubbed and gyrated together in a crude imitation of dancing. Smoke filled the hot air and the liquor and drugs flowed freely. Even in his skintight leather pants and sleeveless, shimmering black shirt, Aya felt hopelessly out of place.
Making his way to the bar, he ordered something strong—something to knock out his inhibitions. What he got was tinged with glowing green liquor, something made to resemble the bar's comic book namesake. He winced at the taste but downed it all in one swallow.
It hit him fast, a little like cold medicine did, leaving him lightheaded and mellow, but still aware of himself and surroundings. Even so, it took another half of a drink before he could think of joining the crowd of dancers.
He tried not to pay attention to the bright green of the Chartreuse. It reminded him too much of other things that were drowning, vivid green...
Without realizing it, Aya pushed away from the bar and stalked out onto the dance floor, emboldened by the memories perhaps more than the drink.
He let the crowd carry him towards the center, relaxing into the press of bodies, moving with the music. Alcohol always made him touchy-feely when, sober, he would have cut off hands for touching him so intimately. He closed his amethyst eyes and didn't even protest when a taller, sensuous form pressed against his back.
He wasn't sure how he could tell the difference, since he'd never danced with anyone else, but it wasn't like dancing with Yohji. Yohji had always seemed to hold back, always careful to give Aya room, not pushing, afraid Aya would take back the little he'd given. This man, however, was not tentative or cautious. He pressed close and held Aya even closer, his hands bold and his lips hot against Aya's neck.
It was almost... refreshing.
He reached back, sliding a hand into long, thick hair. He didn't care to look back to see the face of his partner. It didn't matter. He doubted he could have made out any features in the dark club, with its flashing strobes and pulsing, colored spotlights.
All that mattered was the heat, the strong body grinding against his own, the pale hands playing over his chest and hip, the teeth nipping at his ear and neck. He arched against that unseen form, wanting everything that was offered, implied and promised. He couldn't ask, wouldn't submit, but he didn't think his partner cared. To be overpowered, overwhelmed, consumed without fear... that was an intoxicating thought.
Biting his lip, Aya let his eyes fall shut again and his head loll back against the other man's shoulder. He slid sinuously against him, moaning softly at the leather-clad erection grinding into his ass. Firm lips teased his slack mouth with feather-light kisses as a possessive hand slipped down his stomach to squeeze the bulge in Aya's own leather.
"So hot..." he whispered breathlessly.
"Mm," was all his partner murmured in reply. A tongue snaked into Aya's mouth for nothing more than a taste. He opened his eyes and caught the briefest glimpse of vivid green.
Why did it always come down to green eyes?
The music changed slightly, something bass heavy and sensual. Aya's eyes rolled back as their dancing deteriorated into a parody of sex, hands groping and hips no longer rolling but thrusting.
Aya gasped as he felt the other man slide down his body into a crouch. Strong hands kneaded his ass and thigh while that teasing tongue lapped at the skin peeking out between his shirt and pants, those firm lips kissed at the small of his back...
He twisted around and could only make out the long hair cascading down the other man's back, obscuring the face pressed against his hip. He grabbed Aya's wrist and stood, turning at the same time so that Aya never saw the face of the man who pulled him through the crowd. Because of the lights, he couldn't even make out the color of his hair. It looked alternately brown, green, red...
He allowed himself to be led into the man's room, finding himself both dismayed and thrilled when they entered a dark room. Aya fumbled for the lights, but nothing happened. The broken exit sign didn't even provide enough glow for Aya to see his own hand. As his eyes adjusted, he could only make out dark shapes.
With the muffled music, however, he could hear very well, and they were not the only couple in the rest room.
Heat rushed to his cheeks and a moment of logic seized him. What the hell was he doing?
He tried to pull free, intent on leaving the rest room, the club, the city, if that's what it took to clear his head, but the hand holding him didn't let go. His protests and threats were smothered by a hard, demanding kiss that tasted of cigarettes, liquor and pure, decadent sin.
Logic fled. Lust took its place.
Kissing back, Aya growled softly as a hand fisted his hair and he was pressed against a wall. He couldn't just submit, yet he wanted more.
The long-haired man seemed to understand. He wrenched Aya's head back and bit at his neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave marks. Sliding his leg between Aya's, he pressed his knee into the assassin's groin. Hard.
Aya groaned and writhed, only succeeding in having his wrists pinned when he tried to shove the man away.
"Shh..." the man purred, licking his ear. "Easy..."
He continued to struggle, even as he was kissed deeply and the knee slowly eased off of his still-hard arousal. His hands remained pinned, but his struggles lessened. Aya kissed back, frustrated and hungry, crying out in loss as they parted abruptly.
Without words, he was pushed in the direction of the stalls and he went willingly, wanting that small illusion of privacy, as if the lights might miraculously flicker to life. He wanted to keep the mystery, the anonymity. It was as if the light would call back the icy, hard Aya who would never be caught dead at any club, much less in the bathroom with a perfect stranger.
The Aya whom Yohji could no longer tolerate.
Those strong hands wrapped around his wrists again and Aya didn't have time to protest before he was bent over the toilet with his hands against the cold tile wall. Hips locked against his own and he felt the pressure of his partner's leather-clad erection nestled against his ass. He bit his lip to keep quiet as they rocked together, slow... hard... tantalizing. It took a moment for Aya to realize that they were thrusting in time to the muffled bass pounding from the club's speakers. He could feel the vibration travel through the wall to his palms and up his arms, through his feet and legs to center low in his stomach. Even his cock seemed to throb in time to the bass.
Aya groaned, the sound lost to the bass as the other man draped himself over his back and ran talented hands down his bare arms, sliding around to caress his chest. Nipples were circled, rolled, teased, twisted through the sheer black fabric and Aya tossed his head, gasping when teeth sank into his bared neck.
"N-No marks..." he shivered, feeling the beginnings of a hickey as the bite turned into slow sucking. In response, his nipples were viciously pinched, sending a rush of sensation through his body straight to his cock. Aya's protest died on his tongue, the pleasant pain making him moan instead.
Lips trailed teasingly along the back of his neck, a soothing counterpoint to the fading pain. It was strangely tender, coming from a stranger about to fuck him. Aya shuddered and shoved his hips back—he didn't want gentle. The man grasped his hair and yanked hard, asserting his dominance. Aya didn't accept; it wasn't in his nature to simply submit. He fought against the embrace again and he suddenly was jerked upright.
"Give in or say no," a low voice growled into his ear, the words somehow spoiling the moment. "Do you want it?"
Aya held his breath, considering. Wasn't this what he wanted? To do something impulsive? Something unexpected of Fujimiya Ran? To give up control and lose himself in a moment of unthinking hedonism?
The strong arms held him tight, warm breath ghosting against his ear and the other man's cock pressed firmly against his ass. It was a situation Aya hadn't imagined getting himself into, yet now that he was in it, he wanted it. That was the pure and simple truth and if it was on someone else's terms, well... he was an assassin. He could handle it.
He swallowed hard and nodded. "I want it."
"Good."
No more time was wasted and Aya grunted as his pants were ripped open and a hand was shoved down the front of them, grasping his cock hard. His partner's hand stroked him roughly, thumb smoothing over the weeping tip. Aya shuddered and felt his legs grow weak—how could one man have such power over him?
That tormenting hand slipped around to push his leather pants down his milky thighs while the other remained twisted in his crimson hair. He was pushed down again and he put his hands out to brace himself on the wall. His legs were kicked slightly further apart and his hair pulled until his head was back, his body arched almost painfully.
He heard the rustling of leather and fabric, followed by the pop of a flip-top cap, then a moment later, the hand in his hair turned into a forearm across his lower back and fingers were prodding his asshole.
Aya jerked and gasped; he had rarely been bottom and a stab of fear went through him at his vulnerable position. Then a long finger slipped inside and he moaned, doubts fading as pleasure sparked through him. He'd forgotten how good it could feel to give in and let someone else take care of him. He didn't trust his partner, couldn't forget that they were in a public bathroom, yet that all added to the excitement. He would never admit it, but danger turned him on.
A second finger pressed inside and Aya began to rock his hips back and forth. He felt more lube dribbled along his crack and a third finger slide in while he was still tight. He groaned sharply and jerked his hips, back bowing into a nearly impossible arch.
The fingers abruptly withdrew and Aya cried out softly in loss, unaware that he had even uttered a sound. His senses were hyperaware now, but the bass was throbbing loud. He couldn't think. He thought he heard a zipper and the creaking of leather, followed by the familiar crinkling of foil. He had a brief desire to say no, that he wanted to feel his lover come inside him, hot and thick, but he stopped himself. He was feeling reckless, not stupid.
The lube was dropped to the floor and Aya was given no further warning. The other man pushed his thick cock steadily inside, groaning softly at his tight heat. For a moment, Aya thought that voice sounded familiar, but thought fled as his prostate was nudged and that heavy length settled inside of him. All that mattered then was the unbelievable pleasure of being filled.
"Fuck me," he moaned, pushing back. He shuddered as he felt the other man's balls press against his ass and thighs. No one had ever filled him so full or so deep and he wanted more.
The man took him at his word, pounding into him at once, the lack of adjustment stealing Aya's breath. His hands gripped the assassin's hips tightly, leaving bruises on the pale skin as he slammed into his tight ass. Aya's world narrowed down to the feel of being fucked, skin against skin, hot friction inside and out, the sound of their bodies slapping together, thrusting punctuated by grunts and moans. He felt his lover lean over him, licking and biting his shoulder, one hand leaving his hip to stroke his throbbing cock.
"Fuck..." He shuddered—so close! He didn't want to end it yet...
His lover fucked him harder, free hand sliding up onto his stomach, making him stand up straighter and tilt his hips. Aya lost his leverage and could only loll his head back as he was shoved into. He slid his own hands under his shirt to play with his nipples, eyes fluttering shut as he felt the tension building in his lower stomach. His thighs trembled.
He came first, biting down on his lower lip to avoid screaming while his come jetted out over the toilet and onto the wall. His lover followed, jerking sharply, then relaxing against Aya's back. They both shivered with aftershocks and when Aya's legs gave out, they both slid down to the floor, pants around their knees, bodies sticky with sweat.
The other man kissed Aya's neck and raised his come-slicked hand for the redhead to lick clean. Aya didn't hesitate, suckling the long fingers without a word. His lover moaned softly, nuzzling Aya's neck in appreciation.
Sighing, Aya turned to kiss the other man on the mouth. "Thanks."
No answer, just another kiss, then the man was pulling out, stripping off the condom and fixing his clothes. He kissed the back of Aya's neck, then left without a word.
Aya heard his retreating footsteps and the sound of the door opening and closing—the music outside suddenly loud, then muffled just as quickly.
That's when the nausea set in. What had he done?
Now that it was over, he felt like a slut. Wasn't this the same thing he condemned Yohji for? How could he have ever thought it would make him feel better It certainly wouldn't...
It wouldn't make Yohji love him again.
He threw up.
Outside, a tall figure in leather leaned against the bar and drank something the same color as his eyes. He smirked and set the glass down, running a hand through his long, fiery hair before slinking back into the crowd.