Oh, _shit_.

Voices mock me with the terrible clarity of hindsight. Manx's voice.

//Their orders are to distribute the drugs and report on the effects...//

Omi's voice. //It's to Dekakeru's advantage if they can pass the drugs to a fall guy...//

Biji ordering us all some unknown mixed drink. Aya gulping it and the look in his eyes.

I sipped mine...Biji knocked his into Aya. _What was it?_ Memory promptly supplies several images from the briefing, and I want to retch.

Must not panic. Yamada has seen bad drug reactions before. Thinks they're normal. Has no reason to suspect his date is now a lab rat. Help Aya now, kill Biji later.

I put a hand on Aya's forehead; it's cold and sweating at the same time. "You don't look so good, there." Does he even see me? The violet eyes are wide and blank.

So that's why he was touching me, leaning on me. He must have felt ill the whole time, the idiot. I swear he could be dying and not ask for help.

"Come on, beautiful. Let's get you to the bathroom." "Beautiful" seems like the right thing to call him, somehow; not "biseinen", but the English word. I put hands on his shoulders and pull him upright. He tries to cooperate, fumblingly, all his normal grace gone.

Aya needs to rest several times on the way to the bathroom, but I won't let him. Finally we reach the porcelain god; he slumps down, shivering.

I sigh. "Sorry, beautiful." And punch him in the gut hard.

Of course he's going to resent the kindness, not the blows, tomorrow. I keep Aya's hair away from his face and whisper soothing nonsense and pet his shoulders until he's done, then hit him in the stomach again.

And again, until he has nothing left inside and only my arms are holding him up. God, I hope that was all of it... Wishful thinking, Youji.

Aya is barely conscious now. It takes far too long to drag him to the bedroom, arrange the pillows, clean his face and neck with a warm wet cloth. It must look damn odd to the watchers that Yamada-san takes care of his whore like this.

Maybe I'll ask them what they thought before I kill them. Nah, why bother?

Bathroom cleaned up, towels and bucket by the bed, lights dimmed, check. I tug Aya's boots off while trying to decide what to do next. How long do scary experimental drug effects last? What do I do if he starts convulsing? Could a hospital do any good at all? Can I safely leave Aya long enough to call Omi?

//Some of the effects are permanent,// says Manx's memory in my head. Shut up, Manx. He's had the drug in his system for four hours. Either it's a dud or one of the slow-release kinds, in which case I had better _not_ leave him alone. I kick my shoes off, crawl onto the bed next to Aya, and settle down to observe.

The man looks almost peaceful right now, almost but not quite asleep. I can see his closed eyelids twitching. The only real sign of something wrong is his breathing, shallow and fast and irregular.

Slowly, so as not to disturb him, I put my head down on the pillow next to his. My left hand creeps up to find the pulse at his throat and rests there. If anything happens with Aya I'll feel and hear it at once.

It's safe to close my eyes.

* * *

Was I asleep?

Something woke me just now. Not an intruder-noise, or my senses would be screaming on full alert. Must be Aya.

His breathing is a little slower, deeper now, but somehow that's not a good thing. His pulse thrums steadily under my fingers. His hands are moving somewhere down at - his waist?

I snatch my hands off him and am halfway across the huge bed, sprawling foolishly. Aya isn't really -

Like an idiot, I peek over to make sure. He really is.

Those pants must be seriously uncomfortable in his state. No wonder he's trying to undo them. And there never was room for briefs under them, even for me.

Stop _looking_, Youji! It takes him forever to fumble the button loose and pull the zipper; when his cock is freed I hear a tiny whimper. Aya pushes the pants down off his hips and begins to, _why_ am I watching this?

I've never seen another man's erection before, not really. Aya's sex is like some exotic flower. Like an orchid. Pale and hard and nestled in fine curling red hairs, just a few of them. He's circumcised. I bite down on my lip, hard.

Kudou Youji is not a pervert. I am not watching my teammate jerk off. Any second now I'll look away. Lock myself in the bathroom or something.

His fingers stroke softly, teasing the underside of his head, rubbing across the slit at the top and picking up the wetness there. The other hand moves down to cup his balls. Aya is far more gentle with himself than I am. He must be really sensitive; maybe the drug?

Wherever Aya's mind is right now, he thinks he's alone and horny. If this is all the drug does to him we are the luckiest bastards in Japan, and Biji will pout as he watches his surveillance tapes.

Gripping his shaft a little now, Aya is breathing deeply. He wants to make this last, I can tell, to draw out every nuance of pleasure. I do it that way, sometimes... With excruciating slowness, his hand moves up, pauses too long, moves down.

My mind is pointing out that this whole damned evening ought to be worth infinite points on Fujimiya Aya. I made him go to a club for probably the first time in his life, made him dance with me and like it - well, unless that was the drug too - and now he's showing me all the secrets of his body.

Aya is pushing his pants down further, past his knees.

He's had to depend on me time and again today. He let me touch him more times tonight than in the last two years put together. He looked and looked at me and it wasn't with dismissal or disgust or even hate. What did he see, I wonder.

But this - if he remembers it tomorrow he'll kill me. If he doesn't I will never tell him. I'll never make fun of Omi again. I'll go join a monastery; no, a nunnery.

Tears prickle at the corner of my eyes. Aya is moving now, giving in to sensation, his hips arching up into a stroking hand. Quick sharp jerks near the head, yes, like that Aya... His other hand reaches down between his legs as he spreads them, bringing his knees up.

That's. Sick. I've never put a finger there and never let any woman do it and - two fingers now - and what does it feel like? My erection jerks hungrily in my pants as Aya probes deeply inside himself. I won't touch it.

Within seconds he cries out in pleasure, a low passionate cry sweet as any woman's as he comes all over his chest and clothes. Gasping, he holds very still for a moment. I seem to be grinding myself against the bed in desperate circles.

And then Aya relaxes, all the tension gone at once. One hand still inside himself and knees still drawn up, still showing me everything. He's out like a light.

Now I can cry, and I do, even while my own hands are tugging at my pants. No subtlety tonight. I jerk off roughly in front of Aya's splayed form and I have never come so hard, not ever.

Pervert.

You win, Aya. Game, set and match.

* * *
On to Part Nine
Back to Part Seven

Tell Marith there isn't enough smut