Going Down

Paxnirvana

Yohji leaned against the brushed-silk covered side wall of the private elevator car as he tucked his sunglasses inside his long mission coat and looked around the interior with barely concealed amusement. There was a couch in the spacious car; one covered in crushed cobalt velvet and set against the back wall. There was even a tiny end table with a vase of fresh flowers in an elegant vase beside it. Orchids arched out of it. Expensive ones. Soft classical music played discreetly in the background. The elevator rose so smoothly it barely felt as if they were moving. Which meant it wasn't exactly high-speed, so the plush surroundings were apparently there to make the wait bearable.

"Must be nice to be so rich you get to sit your ass down to ride up eighty-seven floors," he said, glancing over at his silent companion, lips twitching in a wry smile that went completely unnoticed. "I bet the bastard's fucked someone on this couch a time or two. What do you think, Aya?" But Aya - in full Abyssinian mission-mode - didn't even grunt back at him, his narrowed gaze fixed on the numbers changing rapidly on the display above them. Yohji couldn't resist pushing a little more.

"So, what do you think it's like to screw on this couch, Aya? Riding up slow and steady like this to the penthouse... knowing the guards downstairs are watching you," he said, dropping his voice to a husky purr. "Pretty kinky, don't you think? I know it's giving me ideas..."

He saw the lean body stiffen slightly, but Aya's stony profile didn't shift for even a second. Cold bastard, Yohji thought in half-genuine irritation. He never could get Aya to react to him before a mission. Aya had no sense of humor or adventure when it came to missions. After... now lately that could be a different story. He knew he'd likely pay for this later, and wondered a little at his own perversity that made him push Aya like this. But, oh, it was usually more than worth it... because when Aya's ice melted away, there was heat enough to burn out even the aching emptiness inside him... a heat he craved more and more each time he managed to provoke it...

"Focus, Balinese," he heard suddenly over his headset in faintly strangled tones from Omi. "Remember, I have control of the elevator only as long as one of the target's bodyguards doesn't trip the override once you get there. Otherwise you and Abyssinian will have to walk down all eighty-seven floors to get out." Poor kid, Yohji thought, blanching a bit. Ouch. He'd forgotten to turn off his pickup before needling Aya. Omi might be understanding of his and Aya's little on-again, off-again... thing... but that didn't mean he needed to listen to Yohji work it.

"Unless we find Miyamoto's keycard, chibi. Then we can make this elevator dance and sing if we want," Yohji said, smiling and fluttering his fingers up toward where he knew the camera that Omi was watching them on was located in silent apology. Ken was guarding the control room where Omi lurked, making certain no one discovered their presence. They had a forty-five minute window until the next shift change and it was just after one in the morning, but one never knew if some over-zealous idiot sucking up for a promotion might show up early and screw things up.

"It's better to take the bodyguards out fast so you don't have to look for it," Omi said, his tone sharp. Yohji sighed and folded his arms over his chest.

"Yes, mother, I know," he said impatiently. "I was at the briefing too, you know."

"Yes, but you were pretty hung over," Omi replied tartly. "How much of it stuck?"

"Two in the hall, two in the living room, one roaming the apartment. Miyamoto sleeps in a guest room to throw off bad boys like us. Through the archway, second door on the left," Yohji recited in a bored tone, rolling his eyes. Really. You'd think they thought he had a death wish or something.

"Be quiet," Aya spat suddenly. "Two floors to go."

Yohji's casual demeanor dropped away and he moved up to stand on the opposite side of elevator opening from his partner, gloved hand already poised at his wrist. Aya had shifted his grip on his katana from the sheath to the hilt, eyes flickering between the numbers and the doors. Omi had disabled the floor lights and warning chimes so that their target's bodyguards would have no warning of the elevator's arrival.

The car came to a smooth stop, the doors slid open silently. Aya was through them in a blur of maroon leather, Yohji hard on his heels.

The katana flashed and the first man - stationed in front of the fire stairs to their right a few steps down the hall - went down in a spray of blood from a severed throat. Yohji was already tossing silver wire at the second man, who managed to get his gun out of his coat just as the loops settled around his neck. He yanked hard, pulling the man off his feet, and sprinted to get behind him. Yohji jumped on his back and jerked up hard on the wire before the man could do more than let out a croaking cry that was cut off by a sickening crack. The body went limp beneath him, and Yohji looked up, panting slightly.

Aya was leaning beside the entrance to the penthouse apartment, one gloved hand on the latch, narrow gaze fixed on Yohji, a disapproving scowl on his face for the noise. Yohji shook his wire loose then nodded that he was ready. Aya was to take out the bodyguards inside the apartment - while Yohji's mission was to find the target and eliminate him.

After one more raking glance at him, Aya nodded and shoved the door open. He was through it like lightning, rolling to the side to get clear as Yohji sprinted through behind him. The penthouse floor plans had been emblazoned in both their minds during the mission briefing. The entry hall for the elevator opened onto a large, half-sunken living room. Arch and hallway to the bedrooms were to the right. He saw the two dark-suited men in the living room surge to their feet even as he raced past, intent on reaching the target.

Aya could handle them, he knew. And find the unknown third. He heard the sound of a body hitting the ground behind him even as he found the proper room and slammed a booted foot into the door beside the door handle.

The door burst open, wood frame splintering, and he was inside the darkened bedroom where their target slept.

The curtains were open. Mixed city light and starlight shown dimly through the windows, enough to show him not one but two shapes as they started up on the bed, one immediately fumbling for the bedside light. He heard a shocked cry that sounded distinctly high-pitched and feminine. Damn it! Their intel hadn't indicated the target had someone in his bed tonight...

Yohji cursed again and let his wire fly at the moving shape, feeling the filament tangle around the upraised arm. He yanked hard, heard the shout of pain and outrage as the person fell out of bed and onto the floor. Male, definitely. The target. Moving in, he snapped off the first wires and ran out a second set, sending them flying toward the target's head. A slim shape let out a wail and darted forward, interposing itself between him and the target. The woman! Instinct - older and stronger than his training to kill - made him yank the wires back short of their goal as the woman fell over the top of the man on the floor, sobbing and wailing in terror.

"No! No...don't kill him..." The light beside the bed flashed on, sending Yohji hunching over to the side in reaction to avoid the glare.

It saved his life. The woman - maybe the last bodyguard - had somehow come up with a gun and had fired at where his head had been an instant ago. All hesitation fell away and he let wire fly again, tangling her nude form in gleaming silver and drawing on it ruthlessly. She screamed once, high and shrill, then fell in a shower of blood. Cursing steadily now, he stalked to the bedside, kicking aside the tumbled bedding to find the target crouched beneath it, holding his shredded arm and moaning in pain. Yohji shot a quick glance at the dying woman on the bed then realized suddenly, his stomach churning, that it wasn't a woman at all - but a young boy. Maybe fifteen... but not for long. His wire did terrible things to bare flesh. Teeth clenched in fury, Yohji snatched up the gun still held in the boy's twitching hand and pressed the barrel to the target's forehead.

Panic-wide eyes blinked up at him from a fear-pale face as he grabbed one of the tumbled pillows from the floor.

"Money! I'll give you money... don't kill me! Please!"

Yohji ground the pistol hard into the gibbering man's skin for an instant before pulling it back, self-loathing making his voice tight. A boy...

"You like to fuck kids, huh? Bad idea."

He shoved the pillow over the man's face and pulled the trigger, the pillow muffling the shot and containing the mess. The body went slack at his feet.

He turned back to the bed, staring hollowly at the dying boy lying in a rapidly growing puddle of his own blood. Wide, shocked eyes stared up at the ceiling, slowly going glassy and empty.

He felt a presence enter behind him. Whirled to face Aya ghosting into the room. The leather- clad man moved to the bed and stared down at it, red-smeared katana held bare in his hand.

"Hn. Made a mess of it."

"Fuck you," Yohji snarled. "He's just a kid!"

"No. This is the last bodyguard," Aya said, his voice like ice. "You read their profiles. They're all killers."

"I don't remember seeing a kid on the list!" He felt like puking.

"You would have if you hadn't been drunk!" Aya snarled back at him, a flash of fury in his eyes. "This 'boy' slaughtered his own parents at age 11. Broke out of jail, killing a guard to do it. Joined Miyamoto's operation from some yakuza gang - he's killed more than once, Balinese. He's no innocent!"

"Abyssinian's right, Balinese. That's Touga Mishima. He's got over twelve kills attributed to him in the last two years alone," Omi broke in over the comm, his voice tight with anxiety. "Take it easy, Balinese."

He suddenly became aware that he was hyperventilating. Breathing way, way too fast, the coppery smell of blood thickening the air, making it hard to breathe. He felt dizzy and out of sorts as he tried to force his breathing to calm. "Shit," Yohji said after a moment, running a shaky hand through his hair. He stared at Aya, desperation on his face. "I'm getting too old for this."

Aya just met his gaze impassively, no emotion visible at all. Not even disdain. Yohji shuddered.

Omi's voice broke the silence again after a moment. "Uh, Abyssinian, it looks like you'll have to find the keycard after all. One of them must have hit the override. I've blocked the alarms from getting beyond the floor and alerting the rest of Miyamoto's men, but the elevator's locked off now and we have only thirty five minutes until shift-change."

"Shit," Yohji said again. Aya calmly wiped his katana clean on the tumbled bedding before sheathing it with a quick snap. Then he moved to the dresser and started going through the items there.

"Check the nightstand," he threw over his shoulder at Yohji. Who started into motion. After a numb second he became aware he was still holding the gun in his hand. He stared at it for a moment before dropping it on top of the corpse of the target. Then he began to search the nightstand.

It took a few minutes, but Aya finally found the card in the inner pocket of the target's discarded suit jacket, hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

"Come on," Aya said, grabbing Yohji's arm and pulling him away from the room after making certain that the boy on the bed was dead. No loose ends.

"Twenty-five minutes left," Omi told them as Aya nearly dragged him into the elegant elevator car. The lights and music inside were off. Aya shoved him down on the couch at the back of the car, then turned to the control panel. He inserted the card into the slot and hn'd as the lights came back up and the doors slid silently closed.

He pushed the button for the lobby level and the car started to move. They felt only the initial movement when the car first dropped, then it seemed almost as if they weren't moving at all.

Aya turned to the camera in the corner immediately, glaring up at it.

"Bombay, cut the video feed on your end."

"What?"

"Do as I say. And you and Siberian are to leave in fifteen minutes regardless."

"A-Abyssinian," Omi gasped. Yohji jerked up his head and stared at the back of Aya's head.

"Don't argue with me, Bombay. Cut it. Now."

"Ah... hai, Aya-kun," Omi said, flustered enough by the request to break code name protocol. After a few seconds, Aya calmly flipped off the camera. Yohji let out a startled bark of laughter at the gesture, gaze widening on the other man as he turned around to face him after leaning his sheathed katana in the corner.

"What's so funny, Balinese?" Omi asked, surprised.

"Nothing, Bombay," Yohji said tightly, realizing that had been Aya's test to see if Omi had actually cut the video feed as he had ordered. A prickle of apprehension started along his nerves, dancing with the left-over adrenaline from the kill and his confusion from earlier to make him feel distinctly ill at ease.

Aya moved over to the control panel for the elevator and brought the car to a stop between floors forty-five and forty-six.

Yohji's heart began to pound harder in his chest.

"Abyssinian! The elevator's stopped! What's wrong?" Omi called over their headsets almost instantly, his voice almost shrill.

Aya's eyes gleamed in the soft lighting, deadly and cool like his voice. "Nothing. Keep to mission."

"But.. but... Aya-kun..."

"Bombay, don't call us again unless it's critical." To his astonishment, Yohji saw Aya flick off the pickup for his headset. Then Aya was across the car in two strides and reaching for his to turn his microphone off as well. Leather covered fingers brushed his ear and Yohji jerked back against the plush velvet of the couch, watching Aya warily. Pulse leaping even though he was not certain what, exactly, Aya intended to do.

"We're still on mission..." he began, but Aya dropped down over him, his hands thumping down hard on the couch back, braced just to either side of Yohji's shoulders. The move put Aya's face inches from his own, warm breath washing across his mouth, the violet gaze boring into his own, shuttered and unreadable.

"Your drinking is becoming a problem," Aya said, his voice low. "It is affecting your mission performance. You should have known about Mishima."

"Yeah. So," he said with a half shrug, struggling not to flinch at the ice in Aya's tone.

"Why do you drink so much now, Yohji?" Aya asked him, piercing him with that merciless stare. "Takatori is dead. Schwartz has disappeared and Estet is scattered. Is it guilt over that Schrient woman still?"

"No!" Yohji said, stung and wary, uncomfortable at the reminder of Neu but mostly telling the truth. It wasn't memories of Asuka and Neu alone that tormented him so badly now... but memories of Aya's body over his, red hair lying in sweat-damp clumps across his chest, Aya's deep, sure voice telling him what to do and when to do it to bring them both exquisite pleasure... He'd never been with a man before Aya. Never realized how much he would come to want it... to want him... and the way he made him forget all the mistakes of his past. Silence stretched between them for a breathless span of heartbeats, making Yohji ache. Aya was so close, but still so far away, his inner fire held firmly in the icy grasp of Abyssinian. And Yohji needed that fire... longed for it... drank to forget about it in those long spans between the times he got to feel it ...

Something in his eyes must have given him away. Or maybe it was the way he couldn't keep from licking dry lips, nervous and tense. But finally Aya's gaze flickered away from his eyes down to his mouth and Yohji could not suppress a soft sound of anticipation, lips parting, breath puffing out over them to stir the long red tail of hair by Aya's ear. A shudder moved through Aya slowly, something hot and deadly in his eyes as he leaned closer, lips only a hair's breadth away from touching his.

"It's this. You need me, don't you?" Aya asked, but it wasn't really a question. And so Yohji didn't bother to answer or even nod, his breath coming in short, quick pants now, his body seized by tremors. His expression was unreadable. It was entirely possible Aya would consider him too much trouble now and kill him. But did he really care? This half-life... this endless wondering... waiting...

After a long, tense moment Aya shifted back, lifting one hand off the couch to reach into one of his coat pockets. He pulled out a sealed tube of sexual lubricant and held it dangling between two fingers in front of Yohji's face. He must have taken it from the target's bathroom... Yohji couldn't suppress the eager groan that rolled up through his chest and out his mouth. His eyes fell closed and he tipped his head back against the wall behind the couch, hands clenching in and out of fists at his sides. He knew better than to reach for Aya without permission. Verbal goading was all he normally dared.

"We have ten minutes," Aya said firmly, straightening up and moving a half-step back to give him room. "Get out of your clothes."

He didn't even hesitate. He knew Aya was just standing there, watching him, but he didn't care. Leaping up, he had toed off his boots and unzipped his mission coat within seconds, letting it fall in a heap beside him, his ears catching the distinct crinkle of plastic as Aya broke the seal on the tube. His heart lurched in his chest sickly in anticipation. Knowing he wanted this... needed it... but it was the force of Aya's will he truly craved...

He looked up, gloved hands poised on his belt buckle, and found Aya's gaze waiting to snare his. He stared into half-lidded violet eyes, his heart leaping faster, his breathing coming short as heat spread through him like a wave. There it was... Aya's fire... the wanting...it wasn't just him, like he always feared, lost in the coldness between these moments...

"Just the pants...leave the rest."

Trembling with eagerness, he did as that deep voice bid. The tight half-shirt stayed, as did his gloves and his watch, heavy on his wrist. He stripped off his tight pants, and after only an instant's hesitation, the thong underwear below so that his hard cock jutted out unhindered from his body. There was no hiding his need.

Aya took a step toward him, wrapping an arm around him and drawing him tightly against his leather-covered body. With Aya in boots and him in socks, they were almost of a height. Aya took his mouth fiercely, lips hard and demanding, tongue probing ruthlessly deep. He groaned and finally slid his arms around Aya, aware that the damp places on the leather coat were most likely blood. He didn't care, grateful only that Aya wanted him again. He rolled his hips against the other man, trying to find Aya's hardness beneath the leather and whimpering in frustration when he couldn't.

Aya broke the kiss at last, gloved hand rising to grasp Yohji's chin and stare into his eyes. The tube of lubricant was hard and cold against his face, but he barely noticed.

"Get on the couch, on your back."

Yohji let a small anticipatory smile curl his lips; knew it had the desired effect when Aya growled and pulled him in for another kiss, short and brutal, sucking on his mouth as if he could devour him. But in the middle of it Aya put a hand in the center of his chest and shoved him, hard. Yohji stumbled back, falling down awkwardly on the couch; back braced against the lightly cushioned armrest, one arm draped across the back of the couch, his legs sprawled open wantonly. Need was like a fire in him, searing through his blood.

He tossed his head, flipping hair out of his face the better to look up at Aya, the heat ignited by Aya's actions glowing in his eyes. Aya was watching him, gaze running over him possessively, greedily as he snapped the cap open on the tube in his hand with one gloved thumb before reaching between the skirts of his coat to yank open the zipper of his pants and pull out his erect cock with the other. Efficient. No-nonsense. Exactly what he wanted. Yohji let his head tip back, gaze still locked on Aya as he swallowed hard against the eagerness that was threatening to choke him.

Aya moved toward him, lifting one knee to brace it on the couch between Yohji's spread thighs. He had squeezed out a measure of glistening lube onto his cock, was spreading it around with a steady hand. Yohji lifted his leg against the back of the couch, feeling the smooth glide of velvet against his skin like a caress, wanting Aya's hands on him instead no matter that they were covered in leather.

The tube vanished back into Aya's pocket and then Aya was leaning closer, one hand catching the knee against the back of the couch and pushing it ruthlessly higher; lifting him, stretching him, opening him. The rub of velvet on his bare skin not half as thrilling to him as the leather-clad fingers gripping him. He was panting, stomach jerking with each breath, his cock bouncing and dribbling clear fluid all over his own skin, balls drawn up tight and ready. Aya grabbed his cock and guided it down between Yohji's spread thighs to the pink hole below. No stretching, no preparation, just the lube that glistened on Aya's cock. It was going to hurt and he didn't care. He let his eyes slide closed in anticipation, breath coming in hard, short sobs.

Aya rubbed the head of his cock against his entrance, the delicate skin flinching and spasaming closed instinctively against the external pressure. But Yohji wanted it badly... knew it had to be this fast or not at all... and he wanted Aya inside him again more than anything. He managed to relax a bit just before Aya surged forward, the round head slipping inside the ring of muscle, the hard length following in one raw, stinging press. He let out a deep, guttural moan, back arching up as Aya finished invading him in a few short, stinging thrusts, filling him with heat and hardness.

It hurt, stretching his body like that so fast, but in a way he needed the pain. Wanted it. Because it gave him Aya inside of him like this...

"Deeper," he groaned, gloved hands clenched like claws on the velvet couch. "Go deeper."

To hit his prostate and bring him pleasure, Aya would think, but in his own head he was inviting all of Aya inside of him to fill up the aching emptiness what was all that was left of his battered soul. Aya's focus, his determination, his strength. He needed it all... Aya's hips surged, the lube on his cock providing some relief at last, making the motion smooth, the press easier. Over and over again... until he was whimpering with his need... wanting so much... His hand shifted toward his own cock, awareness of their need for urgency warring with his desire to make it last as long as possible. Trembling fingers closed around it and he stroked it once, gasping at the electric intensity of it, his knuckles brushing against Aya's leather coat.

"No," Aya said, pausing in his thrusts to glare at him from beneath ragged red bangs before knocking Yohji's hand away with his free hand. "I haven't decided if you get to come yet."

An almost relieved shudder ran through him. Aya would decide for him. It wasn't his burden any longer. Oddly, instead of embarrassing him it made him feel possessed... wanted... cherished... Yohji rolled his hips back, cupping the slapped hand beneath his outside knee instead and lifting it up to raise himself for Aya's penetration. A grunt left Aya at the motion as he slid deeper inside of him, his body clenching tighter around the invader. He held there for a moment, suspended, while Yohji wondered if he had done something wrong.

"Have you finally realized you were made for me to fuck?" Aya demanded, his voice deeper and rougher than usual as he began to thrust again at last, pressing harder this time, moving faster, the skirts of his coat slapping against Yohji's bare flesh rhythmically. Yohji cried out and twisted beneath him in helpless abandon, the words sinking into him even as he spread his own legs wider as if to take Aya himself even further inside of him. He was nearly mindless with the feel of it, pleasure surging through him. Wanting only this, only Aya... taking him... shaping him...

"Answer me - I don't have time to play with you!" Aya bared his teeth and thrust in almost brutally hard, grinding his hips against him, rolling them up with each stroke and making Yohji gasp and writhe in pain-pleasure as he struck his prostate full on over and over again with ruthless precision.

"Y-yes, I was made for you to fuck," Yohji cried, voice shaking along with his body.

"Always remember that," Aya hissed as he surged in one more time before giving a quick jerk, his body freezing and shuddering above Yohji as he came, eyes clenched closed, head bowing.

Yohji arched up to meet him, breath stopping in his throat for one timeless instant of panic, feeling the pulsing of Aya's release against his prostate deep inside him, the sensation sending him teetering wildly on the edge of his own release; he fought it back, desperately aware that Aya had not given him permission to come yet. He sobbed and thrashed beneath Aya's suddenly crushing weight as he tried to control himself, Aya's body pressing him down into the velvet couch and trapping his cock ruthlessly between their bodies. He was lost in the feel of Aya filling him... squeezing him... using him... deciding for him...

Then Aya's arms were shifting around him, holding him close, mouth warm against his throat, the deep voice speaking gently to him.

"Come now, Yohji."

And he did, in a great sobbing burst, hips jerking helplessly, semen surging out of him in thick, endless waves to stain the front of Aya's coat and his own belly, mind whiting out from the overwhelming relief and pleasure.

When he could think again, Aya was still inside him, still laying atop him, but had drawn back enough so that he could see the faint, considering frown on his uncharacteristically flushed face.

"Will you have a problem with this later?" Aya asked him, still speaking softly. There was a possessive gleam in the heavy-lidded eyes.

"No," Yohji answered solemnly, lifting a mostly-limp hand to thread it through the thick hair over Aya's ear. Wishing he didn't have his gloves on so he could feel the texture of it himself. To his surprise, Aya turned into his touch, mouth twitching into the barest hint of a satisfied smile.

"Nine minutes," Aya said, glancing at the watch visible on Yohji's wrist.

"Omi's probably losing his mind right about now," Yohji said weakly, trying to bring his mind back to the mission. It was hard to do, with Aya still inside him. Aya shifted, pulling away from him to sit up, sliding out of him slowly. Yohji hissed faintly at the sting of it, but more for the sudden sense of emptiness it left him with. Before more than an echo of it could reach him, Aya stripped one hand free impatiently of a glove before he reached down to trail his bare fingers through the fluid smeared on his coat, then he lifted them to his mouth and licked them clean with fastidious precision. Yohji could only watch him, wide-eyed and nearly breathless, and the empty feeling began to fade, replaced with a tiny glow of something he dared not acknowledge yet.

"Gods, Aya..." he breathed, entranced. The hooded gaze flickered and caught his own, searing him with heat briefly before Aya slid off the couch and stood up, tucking himself back inside his pants, zipping them up - tidying himself with smooth precision. In only seconds, one would never guess what had just happened if not for the whitish smear across the front of his maroon leather coat. His hair wasn't even mussed.

Bemused, Yohji sat up gingerly, moving slowly and wincing a bit at the soreness in his ass. He lowered his head into his hands for a moment, trying to catch his mental balance and return to the mind-set necessary to deal with the real world of danger waiting for them outside this elevator car. He couldn't drag Aya down. He'd have to be sharp. Or Aya would leave him behind... or punish him...

"Use these to clean up," Aya said shortly, and Yohji flinched when a black-gloved hand shoved his own damp underwear into his range of vision. Aya had already used them to wipe his own coat clean. "Get dressed." The clear implication was he needed to hurry. He took them and wiped himself off as best he could, startled again when Aya silently handed him his pants. He dragged them on as quickly as he could, bending down to stuff his feet into his half boots before standing with a groan to do up his pants and belt. When he looked, his mission coat was lying on the couch behind him. He snatched it up and stuffed his arms into it, zipping it closed. The soiled underwear went into a coat pocket. He glanced around the floor to make certain nothing of theirs remained to tie them to this place, and then reached up to run both hands through his unruly hair with a deep sigh.

He wanted a cigarette badly. Wondered, idly, if Aya would let him smoke anymore. Then wondered why that thought didn't fill him with stark terror.

Yohji looked across the car to see Aya standing beside the control panel, sheathed katana held in one hand, narrowed eyes watching his every move carefully.

"Ready?"

"I'm ready," Yohji said, staring into Aya's eyes. "Let's go."

- - fin - -