The Warmth



Based on the song The Warmth by Incubus.

I'd like to close my eyes and go numb

I close my eyes in a momentary feeling of peace as I inhale deeply, the crisp night air rushing into my lungs steadily with each breath. The cold air sweeping in through my window mixes with the faint stench of tobacco and brimstone that surrounds the small apartment; Yohji is probably trying to smoke his worries away again, and he is stinking up the entire house while he does it.

I can't blame him. If I had something like a cigarette that would make me feel calm once more, I would be in a much better shape than I am right now.

Our last battle with the assassin team Schwarz not only left our team leader Aya wounded, but it left our prides wounded as well. We, the justice-seeking assassins of Weiß Kreuz, once believed that no one could defeat us. We were the silent stalkers of the night, ones who could never be caught, and would efficiently and effectively dole out the ultimate punishment against those who deserved it most.

We were undefeatable. But then Schwarz came along, and soon, our night jobs became a whole different ball game. We underestimated the renegade bodyguards at first; trying to defeat enemies that know your thoughts and your every move before you make it, however, is almost impossible, and after only a few short encounters the four of us - Aya, Yohji, Omi, and myself - knew to try to stay out of their way when on our missions in the night.

But I knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up to us. And tonight was that time.

But there's a cold wind coming from
The top of the highest highrise today

We saw them approaching long before they attacked; though they were not as stealthy as us, their power more than made up for it. We had scaled the roof of an abandoned warehouse that was being used to fence illegal weapons when we saw them, skillfully traveling from one rooftop to another, slowly but surely coming closer for the kill.

We could do nothing but wait for the ambush. Lambs to the slaughter.

The same chilling wind that now blows through my room breezed past the four of us on that rooftop, its biting cold warning us of the bitter battle yet to come. I stood there, poised and ready for action, when something else on the wind drifted my way.


It was merely a whisper, but I could hear it perfectly.

"Tonight. If you survive."

It was a voice. A very familiar voice, too. A voice that held unmaskable fear. A voice that held unmaskable passion.

"Fuck me."

It was Omi's.

It's not a breeze 'cause it blows hard

His tone of voice...I knew that he wasn't kidding. Omi was looking for sex - as much as I didn't want to believe our innocent young fellow member of Weiß was interested in sex, it was what I had heard, with my own ears. And it wasn't a whisper of the wind, my imagination just playing tricks on me - I was a trained fighter, and I wouldn't have even let myself slip out of my fighting mentality right before a battle. Omi's invitation was definitely, so to speak, the genuine article.

Omi was dead serious about fucking me tonight.

And that's the sole reason why I am no longer thinking about our powerful enemies in my room, and instead standing in front of Omi's closed door, contemplating my next move.

And it wants me to discard the humanity I know

Could I really do this? It was just way too strange; all of it. First of all, I didn't even want to think that Omi was interested in anyone, of either sex, not to mention another man. And there was another thing; why did he choose me? I couldn't speak for Aya or Yohji, but I had been with other men in some circumstances, and had more male sex partners in my life than female. Was that why Omi singled me out for his gratification tonight?

The one thing that kept banging inside my mind were my own emotions for the young man. I had always seen Omi as a team partner, and as a friend; never more than that. And even with this new invitation from the boy, I don't think my feelings will change any. If I entered that door tonight, and bedded one of my closest friends, I don't think I could care for him any less or any more.

And still, the bulge in my pants was growing every second I was thinking about it.

Let the warmth blow away

Why is this happening to me? I think as I silently curse at my half-standing erection. There was no logical reason that Omi should be inviting me to sleep with him tonight, nor was there any logical reason why I would accept such an invitation. But still, with all this logical reasoning, my cock just wasn't listening to what my brain had to say...

Then, it comes to me. Yohji. Yohji and his cigarettes. The older Weiß member tends to chain-smoke when he's nervous, or there's a lot of tension in the air. He's been up to a pack a day since out first encounter with Schwarz. The cigarettes calm his nerves, make him feel better.

Sex is what calms Omi's nerves. And it's always made me feel better.

Don't let the world bring you down
Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold

I open the door slowly, and my eyes widen in surprise at the sight before me. There are no signs of any romantic gestures anywhere in the room; no candles, no roses, no soft playing jazz is unlike any other time I've had sex before. But then again, this wasn't about emotions or love - it was about the raw act of sex that I think we both needed tonight. The bright lightbulb is on, illuminating everything in the room - including Omi's large bed against the far wall of the small bedroom.

Omi himself is sitting in a chair quietly, his arms hugging his knees like a child, his eyes staring intently at the shadowless bed. He sits there in his pajamas, and I'm not sure if he's even aware of my presence at his doorstep.

He blinks; he is out of his trance. He looks towards the doorframe, and sees me standing there awkwardly, scratching my head. "Oh, it's you," he says in a small voice. Getting up off the chair, Omi lets the door open as far as it will go, and he stands before me, looking like a lost little boy. "I'm glad you came."

"So am I," I say.

It's now or never.

I step into Omi's bedroom, and shut the door behind me.

Remember why you came and while you're alive

Omi looks at me, into my eyes, and then looks away, his cheeks blushing violently. "I didn't think you'd be here," he says, though his patient waiting by the door tells me otherwise. "I just want you to know," he continues, walking over towards the bed to pull off the neatly folded blankets, "that this has nothing to do with you. I mean, I don't - well, you and I - "

"I understand," I interrupt, getting in my own words before the young blonde becomes flustered and embarrassed. "I...kinda figured that out already."

His gaze returns to me, a look of understanding in his eyes. He does only need the sexual release to tame his worries, like I had concluded earlier. I had hit it on the proverbial nose. "It's Schwarz," he explains while he sits at the foot of the bed, his legs crossed under him. "They're just so powerful, Ken...we've never faced enemies like them before." He adds in a tiny voice, "They almost killed Aya-kun tonight."

I merely grunt in response. They didn't nearly kill Aya tonight; they only wounded him. Still, Omi saw this marker of weakness, small as it was, as a genuine reason to fear our new nemeses. "I mean," he continues, his voice becoming shaky and unstable, "what if..." Omi looks up at me, his eyes misty with unshed tears. "What if this is our last night alive?"

Experience the warmth before you grow old

In an instant after looking into those deep pools of blue Omi has dubbed his eyes, I am right next to him on the bed, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. "Come now, Omi; don't be so dramatic," I say jokingly, trying to get the young man out of his dismal mood. "We're not going to die tomorrow, I can assure you of that." I was telling the truth, too; we weren't going on any missions until Aya's injuries healed. Unless Schwarz decided to attack us at the flower shop tomorrow morning, we were safe.

I feel Omi relax into my hug, and his legs drape over the edge of the bed limply. He rests his head on my shoulder and sighs contentedly, which only makes my neglected erection jump even more. "Ken-kun?" he whispers, the same windy whisper he gave to me earlier on the rooftop so seductively. I respond by brushing his dirty blond bangs out of his face and kissing his forehead lightly.

"Fuck me?"

He sounds so innocent saying such words, they almost sound like a question. I smile, and something deep inside of me cheers - I think it's my libido - as I pull him out of my embrace and begin to lay him down on the bed. "Thought you'd never ask," I reply.

Do you think I should adhere

In an instant our clothes are on the floor, and we are far from our innocent position at the foot of the bed. I had pushed Omi down onto the bed, shifting my weight over him until I was straddling his midsection, my hot erection pressing into his chest. I can feel his heart beating fast beneath me, the searing warmth of his anticipating body teasing me, daring me to go one step further every second with the Weiß assassin. For only a second, I do nothing, and sit motionless atop Omi, simply reveling in the soft feel of his skin on my thighs and his heartbeat against my groin.

The boy squirms below me and smirks. He takes control of the situation, reaching up with his hand to stroke my cock lightly, as waves of shivers pass through my body. "Oh God...Omi," I groan, thrusting my hips into my young partner's fist as he picks up speed, his loose fingers merely tickling my shaft, running up and down my length quickly, while his thumb kneads my flushed crown. Omi takes the dripping precum already forming from my slit with his thumb, rubbing it up and down my shaft, making his nimble fingers slick to the touch.

I bite down hard on my lower lip; tough enough to draw blood. God, if I didn't know better, I would swear Omi was a pro at this.

Just as I feel like I'm going to explode, Omi stops, removing his hand from my dick. I thrust up with a pitiful whimper, trying desperately to retain some of that wonderful friction we had before, but I connect with only the crisp night air. I look into Omi's eyes with confusion, as I feel the boy's hands on my hips, pushing me lower on his body.

"Enough with the foreplay," he says seriously, spreading his legs apart for me. "Time to get down to business."

To the pressing new frontier

I look at Omi, my brow creasing in confusion. "Omi-kun," I whisper, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek. "Are you sure - "

Omi pushes my hand away rudely, and looks up at me with pleading eyes. "You said you were going to fuck me," he says. He takes my erection in hand once again, but this time pulls it to where he wants it to go, nearly positioning it himself to slip straight into his ass. "So fuck me already."

I'm startled by Omi's straightforward approach to having sex. I know that this was supposed to be an emotionless night, one with an act that was only here to relieve fears and tension, but even still, I never had a sex partner so forceful as Omi before. He just wants to get it over with, have something to get Schwarz off his mind, but for some reason, I just don't feel comfortable with doing that. Omi seems too detached from how passionate sex was supposed to be - he won't even let me touch him. For me, it wasn't the normal way to have sex; it just wasn't right.

And leave in my wake a trail of fear

Then I remember something; Omi is a virgin, in nearly every sense of the word. If I did penetrate him, no matter how gentle I was, it wasn't going to be pleasant. I remember my first time with a man; my fellow Weiß assassins wondered why I couldn't sit down for days.

I swallow hard, trying to look through Omi's serious expression to remind myself that he was vulnerable, no matter how much he might protest to that fact. "It's gonna hurt," I say; a warning.

"If you're worrying about Yohji and Aya hearing me," he replies, "I'm a big boy. I won't cry."

"It's not them I'm worried about," I try to convince my young lover. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Omi smiles and takes my hand by the wrist, pulling it up to his face. His hot flesh touches mine, and now I know he isn't going to take my sensitivity towards his pain seriously. "If you want," he says coyly, "you can put your hand over my mouth - " He does this, momentarily, and I feel him giggle underneath my palm. " - so I won't scream."

I would rather kiss his small, red mouth instead - I just can't bear having sex without some small level of intimacy - but I take this advantage, and trace a line around his soft lips with my finger, feeling the warmth of his strained breath on my fingertips. My hand falls down to his vulnerable neck, my hand trembling with the heat of his skin. I brace the back of his head with my grasp as I push through his narrow opening, letting all former inhibitions and fears slip out of my hold.

Or should I hold my head up high

I throw my head back, my eyes closed into tiny slits, and let out a low moan as the euphoric blend of warmth and tightness that is Omi wraps itself around my throbbing cock. It threatens to choke the sheer life out of my penis, as the fleshy walls of his body invite me in for a night of unbridled, detached passion.

Omi himself was quiet when I entered him, shutting his eyes tight to try to block out the pain. Even with the slick pre-cum he rubbed onto my dick, the fit was a tight one, and without any stretching of his taut muscles beforehand the pain must be agonizing. His mouth forms a small 'o' without words, his body shifting back and forth between unimaginable pleasure and heartbreaking torture.

The God, the incredible feeling of his warmth all around me!

And throw a wrench in spokes by
Leaving the path behind me clear

I push myself into Omi's small frame until I am fully penetrated. I wait a few seconds, seconds that feel like lifetimes, as I calm myself against the searing warmth of his opening, and let him get comfortable with the feeling of me inside him.

Omi is panting beneath me, his hot breath a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the room, and he already looks like he's past his threshold of pain, but he presses me on. "Don't stop," he rasps, his hands reaching blindly to rest on my heaving chest. "For the love of God, Ken...don't stop..."

Wrapping his arms around my neck, Omi braces himself for all that's about to come. I pull out, myself feeling vulnerable and exposed to the frigid air around us, but then slam into Omi's backside, harder than before. His muscles contract against me, and Omi bites his trembling lower lip. He pulls my body down against him, and his hot skin feels like it's burning trough my chest, the warmth of his body nearly overpowering me.

Placing a steady hand on Omi's hip, I begin to grind into him, hearing his soft mews of pleasure as I hit the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled deep inside him over and over again. I feel the sweat running down my face as I make sure to hit that one spot every time, letting Omi have every inch of ecstasy that he deserves for setting up this little rendez-vous tonight.

So don't let the world bring you down

I feel Omi's soft walls tighten around me; he is close, and so am I. I visibly shake, not only from the ever-approaching climax of our night, but because of the sheer emotion that rages through me every time I know I am close to release. That feeling has always been my sexual vulnerability; it makes me want to hold my lover close, and whisper the soft words "I love you" into their ear forever, even though I know when I do it that I never will love them forever, or that I never actually loved them at all. It makes me want to feel this way forever, with this lover forever.

Orgasms make me gloriously weak.

Omi was right. As I thrust into the young man, with intense power and passion, I forget all about our troubles as Weiß Kreuz, and all the fears of upcoming battles with Schwarz seem to melt away with each pounding rhythm and each excited gasp from the boy beneath me. Just like Yohji and his cigarettes, sex with Omi was making me forget about our night job, and it was leaving me right here, aware only of this moment, this motion, this feeling welling up inside of me. Omi was my cigarette; he was the one who was causing all my worries to drift away with the cold breeze, leaving me in the highest state of hot euphoria I have ever experienced.

Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold

"Ken-kun..." Omi is clinging tightly to my body now, and his face is nuzzled into my neck. He bites every so often, and I know that he will leave marks come morning, but right now, I really don't care. His breathing is erratic, and it sounds like he's going to cum soon - or die, whichever comes first.

Suddenly, he arches his back up, and I feel him release all the sexual energy he has stored in him for the past seventeen years, his entire body shuddering from his spent sexual pleasure. His cock, which has been sandwiched between our bodies the whole time, jerks against my chest, and a hot spurt of Omi's liquid warmth is released, washing both our bodies in his milky white cum. I instinctively reach up with my hand, my other still steadying myself on Omi's waist, and beat his jumping dick furiously, milking out nearly four more loads of cum onto our bare chests. Omi says nothing this entire time, and instead only takes in short, shallow gasps of cold air when he can. His arms never release their tight hold on my neck.

Omi's climax sends his body into a tight convulsion, causing the fleshy walls around my own cock to become so taut that I can't hold it myself anymore. With one powerful thrust into him, I scream out my lover's name, sending load upon load of my own warmth deep into his virgin body. I shiver all over; I can't help it. I had never came so violently, so outstandingly before. Maybe there really was something to the "no strings attached" sex we had both needed so desperately.

I soon become limp inside Omi's body, and so I release myself from his grasp, pulling out as gently as I could. I look down at Omi's sweating frame, his eyes so large and innocent I can hardly believe this was the same boy who had asked me to fuck him only minutes before. Sweet, gasping breaths draw from his lungs, filled with the warmth of his body, and I want to kiss him, take that breath from his soft lips so badly. I lean in and close my eyes, curbing myself to not whisper "I love you" or else suffer the consequences of breaking our non-committal rendez-vous.

My lips are met with Omi's cold hand, pushing my face away.

"Don't," he whispers. "Just don't."

Remember why you came and while you're alive

I stare at him, first in shock, then in shame. I had almost forgotten about our arrangement. For me, it was always customary to share a loving kiss with my lover after having sex, no matter how I felt about that person. But now was a totally different story; I had promised Omi that nothing was to come from this passionate night, and for him, that obviously includes a kiss.

A little dazed, I get up off the bed and find my clothes; Omi does the same. He does not even look me in the eye when I go to say good night to him, to return to my own room for the duration of the night. I place a gentle hand on his shoulder and say, "I hope...I hope you feel better tomorrow." I wanted to say that I hoped to do this again, to touch my forbidden friend like that at least once more, but I didn't want to shatter our agreement more than I had already. One more screw-up - a comforting hug, an attempt to kiss him good-night - and I might lose Omi's trust for more time than I'd like.

Omi keeps his eyes on the ground. His hair is unkempt, and he smells of sex, but other than that, he looks no different than when I first entered his bedroom. "Please don't tell the others about what we did," he says in a small voice. The warmth that I had felt inside of him when we made love was no longer there, replaced with a creepy feeling of informality I had never associated with sex before tonight. "I want to keep this a secret, alright?"

I nod in response, though I can't say if Omi saw it or not. I open the door silently, without a kiss, without an "I love you," and back to the stark coldness of my own room.

A hand clamps around mine as I turn to leave. It is Omi's.

"Ken-kun...I just wanted to say..." Omi looks up at me, his bright blue eyes shining with tears; tears not of fear and pain, like before, but tears of thanks and, just maybe, tears of friendship. "...thank you. I really needed it."

I smile back at the boy who I had just made a man. "It was no problem," I say gently. A smirk glides across my face, remembering Omi's warmth beneath me, and my insides immediately yearn for it again, to protect against the cold nights waiting for Weiß's next move. "But if I ever need you to do me the same...favor," I add, "I hope that you'll be available."

Omi simply smiled back.

Experience the warmth before you grow old

On my way back to my own room, I come across Yohji in the hallway, a cup of extra-strength coffee in his hand and a cigarette set between his lips. He has an accusing look on his face, and there is no doubt in my mind that he heard me scream out Omi's name during sex.

"Have fun tonight?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow in suspicion.

I smile, and duck my head, because I know I'm blushing. "You have your ways of dealing with stress," I say, taking the lit cigarette from Yohji's lips, "and I have mine." Bringing the cigarette to my own lips, I take in a long drag, feeling the stinging nicotine enter my lungs.

I walk back to my room with the cigarette in tow, much to Yohji's protest. I decide to smoke it before I finally go to sleep tonight. After all, that's what you normally do after you have sex, right?

I smirk to myself. But this wasn't normal sex.

The warmth of the cigarette smoke can hardly compare to the searing heat of Omi's body around my own, and so I rub it out on my window frame before finishing it. It wasn't my idea of relieving tension, anyway.

Lying back down on my bed, I quickly fall into a deep, restful sleep, discarding the blankets boldly. The cold air of the night was no longer as biting, or as foreboding, as before.