My pillow smells like Aya.

The mind does peculiar things under stress. I just gave my teammate an open invitation to take out his aggressions on me, I'm lying here waiting for quasi-rape and humiliation and pain, and what I'm thinking is: this is a nice scent. Hints of bergamot - shampoo, maybe? Aya wouldn't wear cologne - transmuted by the alchemy of skin and sweat to something dizzying.

I wouldn't mind falling asleep with this fragrance, holding Aya close and stroking his hair. I wish we were doing that now instead.

As the moments pass in silence the lump of fear in my stomach starts creeping upward. Aya hasn't made a sound; is he meditating on the best way to break me? Is he sitting there in shock because I admitted he was right? What if I can't manage to hold still for it - him?

Of course right on the heels of that thought come the little whispering voices again. /You're disgusting. You'll never be able to look a woman in the eye again without remembering tonight. / I can almost see the image of my favorite porn star, pouting sadly and touching her lips before she vanishes from my TV in a burst of static. Funny, I think at her sourly, my subconscious never minded a murderer jerking off for you.

Warm fingers brush my neck, startling in the cool air, then move away. There's the sound of a drawer opening. Oh, shit, did I leave anything really embarrassing in the nightstand? Those stupid nipple clips that whatshername, Yuuko I think, gave me are probably still shoved in the back. But if Aya notices them he doesn't comment.

The drawer closes while I'm still trying to figure out what he wants in there. I could turn my head to see, but then I'd have to look at him undressing. And after another moment he's in bed next to me.

"Up on your knees."

It's awkward without letting go of the headboard; I lean too far forward and close my eyes, waiting for the unwanted touch. Instead Aya's legs slide underneath me and his hands guide me down to lay flat again.

I don't need to open my eyes to see how this looks. Stretched across his lap like a child about to be spanked; it's humiliating and that's obviously the point. Even worse, he reaches underneath to take hold of my softening penis and move it between his thighs.

And I could stop this at any moment. Aya's an even match for me but it's not that easy to subdue someone for rape if they're determined to fight. Besides, he doesn't have it in him to truly force someone. I'm almost sure.

This has to be a gift, a bizarre sort of gift from me to him. A choice to balance the one he won't get to have later.

Shivering, I hold still as he strokes my ass. The world narrows to nothing but sensation, those hands moving in slow circular caresses for an endless time. When they begin to dip into the cleft it seems almost natural; still my whole body tenses the first time fingers brush puckered skin.

The soft touching goes on and on, until I wish he'd just get it over with. It's almost a relief when it stops and I hear the faint sounds of a bottle opening. What the? ...Oh. Right.

It's _cold_. Sudden cold and wet, trickling into the cleft of my ass as fingers push it open a little wider. The tiny part of my brain that's still capable of rational thought observes: scent of almonds = the massage oil = try this on a date sometime, while the rest of me gasps and shudders. Aya trails his fingers through the liquid and begins gently rubbing it into my anus, coaxing the tight muscle to relax.

This can't possibly feel good, I think dazedly, yet my cock is stirring in the clasp of Aya's thighs. A drop of cool oil slides down _inside_ me, then another, and I can feel every millimeter of their passage. A finger presses slowly in after them.

I'd always heard this hurt like a sonofabitch, but it just feels weird. More intimate than even lovers should be. Is this how a woman feels as she's impaled, this visceral invasion? Now the finger's moving in and out, exploring a little; I'm concentrating so hard on the sensation, trying not to clench up, that when something solid and warm presses up against my lower belly it takes a moment to understand. Ah. You really do like doing this to me, don't you, Aya. Did you want me at your mercy before? When he slides a second finger in I start doing calculations. Remembering that blind hungry worm in my hand, how this feels now...when it burrows into me it's going to hurt. Nothing I can't handle. Aya's being slow and gentle, a kindness Schuldich isn't likely to grant him. Taking a deep breath, I try to slow the frantic thumping in my chest as the fingers twist deeper.

"Relax."

It takes a minute to stop giggling into the pillow. "Aya," I manage finally, "your fingers are in my butt. Relaxation is not an option here." Okay, that sounded a little hysterical. Get a grip. Breathe.

"Mm." He shifts his thighs carefully, dragging my attention there with a stiffening rush. The whole of my groin's turned hot and tight, skin tingling; my cock is demanding attention and it doesn't care at all who the legs around it belong to. Meanwhile Aya seems determined to touch every place inside me. This is...

That feels...

A moan slips out before I can stifle it. Something deep inside my ass feels incredibly good as Aya strokes it over and over. It's impossible to keep still; my hips move whether I want them to or not, up onto his fingers like a cat mewing for more touch and then down to rub my penis against his soft skin. I feel utterly filthy and I'm going to come in Aya's lap in another minute and I'll never live this down and right now I don't _care_.

He stops.

Just stops, withdrawing his hand and moving his legs apart so I have nothing to thrust against. With a sort of distant horror I hear myself whisper, "Don't...more, Aya..."

Aya grabs my hips in both hands to hold them still. "You have something to say to me, Youji?"

Besides begging like a girl? Fuck. Just..._fuck_.

"You were right," I inform the pillow.

"What was that?"

Bastard. Deep breath. "You're right. What he did to you must've felt good no matter how much you hated it. And you haven't been able to fight him because he threatens - people you care about. It was stupid of me to doubt you and I'm sorry." Oh god, am I sorry.

Aya slides a hand through my hair, petting as though I were a nervous kitten. "And?"

I knew he was going to make me say it. And I can't deny it even to myself, with me still in Aya's lap and my body aching for more. "And...what you were doing felt good, and if you kept going..." That sentence doesn't need an ending.

And that's not even the worst of it. I didn't know the wanting, the weakness, was inside me. Neu saw it and mocked me; who else knew? Do the guys have a running bet on when Youji will come out of the closet?

The rest is only embarrassing. Meya said once that screwing men is easy because they're like vending machines; you put in yen and you get out orgasms. When I told Asuka this hoping she'd deny it, she just looked thoughtful for a moment and then started laughing. At that point I resolved never to introduce the two of them.

So maybe most guys can't resist touch. Aya certainly can't. But the new little voice in the back of my mind that wonders what it would be like if Aya - put more than fingers in me, that almost hopes he will...I didn't want to hear that. Am I tainted now? Can I drown out the memory, find absolution between a woman's legs? Meya will know.

Suddenly I'm just seriously tired of this whole night. Everything I said's been proven wrong, my masculine pride is in little shreds, who knows what the hell Aya really needs. Maybe if I just lie here and pretend to be asleep he'll go away and so will my erection. It's never worked before, but there's always a first time.

Aya has been lightly stroking my back and neck while I brood. Suddenly he pokes me between the shoulderblades. "Get up."

"'Wha?"

"Sit up." After watching me struggle out of his lap for a few seconds, he adds, "You can let go of the bed now," in that extra-deadpan voice he uses to hide amusement.

Sheepishly, I pull my hands away from the headboard, and discover they're red and sore. Hadn't realized I was clutching quite so fiercely. Then again, a few minutes ago you wouldn't have noticed a brass band in the bedroom, would you, Youji? I take refuge under the blankets on the other side of the bed and pay great attention to uncurling each cramped finger in turn.

After five minutes the silence gets to me. "So now what do you want?"

As if I'd just asked whether the sky is blue, he says patiently, "I thought you were going to fuck me."

...

I count slowly backwards from ten. In English. "Aya," god that sounds plaintive, "would you please not reverse the situation any more tonight? You're giving me whiplash."

"All of it was your doing." He seems perfectly calm, stretching out on his stomach and turning his head to look at me.

...This is the most relaxed Aya's been all night. Even the lines around his eyes that massage couldn't smooth have eased a bit. Obviously getting a chance to do unto others has improved his mood. What would he have done to Meya, if - I did not just think that.

"Fine. But we've had...three hours of foreplay by that clock and I am not giving you another backrub." The tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes is another good sign.

All I want right now is to come, I don't care how, and then sleep for a day or three. Awkwardly I nudge Aya's legs apart and kneel between them. He starts to lift his hips, but I push him back down. "You don't have to do that, you know. Just lie still." He may get off on the sight of me being submissive, but the idea of proud Aya offering himself up - I think of that tongue probing obscenely, and shudder.

Right. The quickest way to get this over with is not to think about it much. Don't think about what just happened or how gross this is or what other nasty little traps might be waiting. Just -- do it.

It's about time we had a bit of luck. No visions hit me with the first caress, only a tired sense of having come full circle tonight. At least now I have a much better idea of what to do. A few slow soft circles on his hips, and then I grit my teeth and run fingers through the crevice between.

Exploring Aya's bottom is so intimate. I've reached between the legs of a woman to open her like a flower; it's a sweet and trusting act and the look in her eyes as she feels me touch her clitoris for the first time is like nothing else. But women are meant to be touched and kissed there. As I hold his cleft open with both thumbs, I'm looking into a part of Aya's body that should have stayed private. Both of us shiver when I rest a finger lightly on his anus.

At the same time I know he finds it highly erotic. So I keep him exposed as my other hand reaches for the bottle, open to the air and the tiny breezes from the window. For good measure I blow gently on the little puckered circle; that starts Aya whimpering.

It's barely audible at first, but the first drops of oil poured directly on him bring a satisfying increase in volume. Smirking, I copy Aya's earlier teasing and rub in circles until the pink flesh is wet with almond slickness.

Next I should...push my fingers inside. Not an appealing thought. So why should Aya have it easy either? "You want more?", I ask, still rubbing.

A distinct whine and a twitch of his hips. "What does that mean? I'm tired, you'll have to tell me very specifically." Okay, Aya is fun to tease. The indignant noise he makes is almost worth having my hands where they are.

"Damn it, Youji, stretch me," he mumbles finally.

"Hmmm? You want what where?"

Aya pushes himself up on his elbows and glares back over his shoulder at me. The usual effect is somewhat spoiled by the way he's moving against the bed; I raise an eyebrow and he stops, flushing.

"I thought you wanted to get this over with."

"Yeah, but it's much more fun to make you say it." Revenge is sweet and so is the smile I give him.

Amused, I watch the struggle reflected in his eyes. Finally he takes a deep breath and spits out, "Put your fingers in my ass." I open my mouth only to be cut off. "Please."

Even expected, the blunt words send a chill down my spine. Aya's eyes are promising some dreadful fate for me tomorrow. But hey, I've always lived dangerously. Whatever he has in mind can't be as disturbing as the damp passage my finger presses into.

Oh, things weren't meant to go in here. Tight as a vise near the entrance, smooth and strangely hot and wet with what I hope is oil. Nothing like the inviting slick warmth I'm used to; at the same time I can see why some men like to take a woman this way. Even the tensest virgin can't compare to the grip on my finger. Hastily I thrust it in a couple of times and pull free. This is not going to be a leisurely affair.

The small of Aya's back holds a pool of massage oil long enough for me to coat more fingers. I wasn't sure two would really fit, but they do; Aya doesn't even complain, just sighs in something like contentment as I try to stretch him inside.

Somehow I don't think he'll want to go back to women when this is all over.

"...Is this enough? Do you need more?"

"It's fine."

"You're really ready?"

"_Youji_."

I swear, the next time he says my name like that at work I'm going to crack up. Great, you're ready Aya, what about me? I run my hands down his back to pick up the rest of the oil, suppressing the pointless urge to wash them first, and start to stroke myself. Think about women. Think about how tight this is going to feel. Think about cold bastard Aya, who's criticized you for having a sex life more than once, begging you to fuck him harder... It doesn't take long at all for my erection from before to return.

So. Stare into his eyes and kiss like lovers as we fuck, or leave him face down and just do it? Once again it's the thought of Schuldich that decides me. I move aside to free his legs. "Turn over, love."

The endearment slips out before I know what I'm saying; oh hell. I did _not_ just call Aya a pet name. Or anything worse.

He's eyeing me with puzzled impatience. "What for?"

"Because this isn't like rape," I tell him gently. "This is something we're doing together." After a moment's indecision I reach out to touch his hair. Aya takes my hand as he rolls over and squeezes briefly before letting go.

Another confused look when I tell him to raise his legs; it's nice to be the one who knows what we're doing for once, I reflect, and just smile back as he hesitantly rests them on my shoulders.

No more dithering. I find the strangely low entrance, set myself against it, and push in.

Oh god, _tight_, so tight it must be hurting him, and I almost pull back, but Aya holds my arms hard enough to bruise. Of course he wants it all at once. I would too; but I won't do that to a lover. Ignoring his growl of frustration, slow and deliberate, I sink into the warmth until skin meets skin. It's...there are no words for how good this feels. And Aya?

Sheened in sweat and biting his lip, he's obviously in some pain. But the look in his eyes is of something else entirely. I'm not quite sure what. Something that moves me to kiss him and start a slow careful rhythm.

I thought it would be hard to keep my eyes open and see Aya below me; instead the challenge is to not come too soon. Every stroke makes him gasp, arching up to meet me, and I want nothing more than to thrust _hard_ and put my seed so deep inside him it'll never come out. When was the last time this felt so territorial? I wonder dazedly. Is it because there's no rubber sheath between us, no need for dead men walking to care about consequences? Is it savage glee in taking Schuldich's prey first and in a way he never will? Or just -

"Youji, yes, ah," Aya's nails dig into my back and the husky velvet of his voice is like heroin and I cry out, shuddering over the edge, a spike driving in to split him in two, flooding everywhere and oh, god, Aya.

Dimly I'm aware that he hasn't come yet and so I try to keep moving, against the blissful slump of every muscle that pleasure always leaves in its wake. Aya reaches down between us to touch himself; I should have been doing that, shouldn't I. His shaft feels hot and a little sticky when I take hold of it above his own grasp. We pump him together, hard and fast, until his whole body shudders around me and warm liquid covers my fingers.

And there's just peace. Sweeter than- anything.

After a long time I notice I'm listening to the little sounds of the house. The big cooler downstairs. A creak now and then from pipes. The slow beat of a pulse under my ear, the rise and fall of each breath. Aya is asleep. How long has it been since he had real sleep? I'm afraid to move. Wiping off the gluey mess on both of us can wait; tucking my head into the crook of his arm, I drift off again.

Suddenly Aya convulses under me. Instinctively I roll off him as my eyes snap open, letting frantic hands shove me away. "Ngh?" Even though I'm no longer touching him he continues to flail. "Aya?"

Shit. I'd almost begun to hope the bastard had found some other poor sod to torture tonight.

"Aya, wake up." Careful to keep our bodies apart, I wrap my arms around him and nearly get an elbow in the gut. "Wake _up_!"

He doesn't hear. Cold water, maybe? Wait, no, it's supposed to be dangerous to wake a sleepwalker. Would it damage Aya to force him awake while his head's being messed with? I wish I'd had the sense to ask that earlier. Maybe the risk is worth it to get him out of there - but... Helplessly, I watch a kaleidescope of emotions tumble across his face in jerks and twitches; after a moment he slumps against me like a puppet with cut strings, but the struggle inside goes on.

What can I _do_?

Only hold him, and watch the bright red numbers of the clock count towards dawn, and stroke his hair and whisper that I'm right here, Aya, right here. I don't know what else to say.

It's less than fifteen minutes later when he opens his eyes. We stare at each other wearily; I open my mouth and then shut it again with a snap. "Are you all right?" seems a supremely dumb question to ask. "What happened?" is even worse.

The faintest twitch at the corner of Aya's mouth acknowledges what I'm not asking. "It's better when you're here," he answers simply.

And I blink muzzily while he turns in my arms, resettling himself against me for sleep. If he even notices the damp mess on his skin he's too tired to care. Well, so am I.

Better when I'm here.

...I'm not going to be staying out late tonight, am I. Or the next night or the next.

He clings to me like a child, already asleep. Fine crimson hair tickles my chin.

If that's what it takes, Aya.