Mohji Kudou

Omi stood in the kitchen, his eyes cast downward. Supposedly, the whole house was empty for the night - the various members of Weiß doing various celebratory things. Most likely, Ran was with his sister, and Ken was with his soccer boys on the field for late practice. Or maybe just gone for a walk. Youji was off with some unsuspecting girl, no doubt. Omi didn't particularly care - he was enjoying the silence.

And then it was dark. A large, warm hand covered the littlest Weiß's mouth just before he could let out a scream. And there was a large, warm body pulling him backwards. Blindfolded and gagged, for now. Omi would have been much more afraid if he hadn't smelled the familiar cologne that was trying so hard to overpower the smell of cigarette smoke.


Omi kept quiet, unsure as he was scooped into strong arms and carried down the hall. He didn't struggle. What was the point? It was just Youji. Youji who was supposed to be on a date, but you can't have everything. She probably wasn't 'in the mood' to deal with him just then.

The chocolate-haired playboy lay Omi down on his big, satin-sheeted bed and began to let his hands move slowly down the boy's chest. Can't make noise, he reminded himself. Can't let Omi know it's me, I'd never live it down. I've worked too hard to hide it so far.

Omi decided to give the man a break - he wasn't struggling as much as perhaps he should. "Who are you?" he whimpered the question, pleased with himself when his voice broke. He sounded so afraid. So distressed. Youji did not answer.

Lips closed over one of Omi's nipples (his shirt had been so conveniently pushed up to expose that smooth skin) and curved upwards into a smile. Omi gasped, but kept as many words as he could inside. All of them. Can't let him know that I know. He'll stop.

Youji bit down and made a trail of hot, wet kisses down to Omi's belly button. The younger boy was squirming, but being relatively well behaved. Just in case, Youji decided to tie his hands. Easy enough. And those heavy duty cuffs simply would not do for poor Omi's sensitive skin.

A red silk scarf was around Omi's wrists. A smile from the younger of the two, though he tried to keep it hidden. Omi could've sworn he was dreaming. Youji wanted him, apparently, and Youji was determined to get what he wanted anonymously. Nice try. Omi's train of thought was brought back to 'the task at hand' when the hand in question slid down from his hip to his groin. Arching up, Omi felt his heart rate begin to rise. His breath was becoming more labored - ragged almost.

Youji was good at what he did. A warm, wet tongue dared to dip into Omi's navel as his hips were lifted and shorts - along with plaid flannels - were pulled down and cast aside, thrown into the far corner of the room. Youji forced himself to slow down. This is Omi. Omi is young. Omi is inexperienced. A hand slid down between the boy's thighs (warm and quivering and lily-white) and lifted him gently, parting soft, smooth skin until one long index finger found it.

Point of entry. Or exit, depending. Youji smiled against the boy's skin and, dropping a tiny kiss on the curve of his hip, pushed himself up off of the boy and away, to retrieve the necessaries. Omi tensed when he felt the greasy cold of petroleum jelly on his skin, and then that finger pressing again, firm but patient. Youji? Patient? Omi would have laughed, had the situation been different.

Two fingers came and went, followed by three. Omi stretched and Youji lost patience. The urgency of the ripping foil, the repositioning of Omi's hips, the lips on his neck and the breath in his ear all proved this. He clenched his teeth as Youji pushed his way in, biting his lip to keep the noises from reaching Omi's ear.

A loud cry of complaint forced Youji to flinch, pulling back out completely, and the boy beneath him felt tears soaking the blindfold. And it hadn't even bled. Omi arched up and away from the intruding erection when Youji tried a second time, and again on his third. Youji's temper was growing short. Find a better angle. He shifted his weight and tried a fourth and final time, gently working his way inside of the creature he'd had his eye upon for so long.

Omi's moans were soft and as he relaxed into Youji's smooth, cautious rhythm his breathing slowed. It wasn't half bad, that stretching to accommodate. He began to tense up again when Youji decided that he'd waited long enough. The rhythm was changing and Omi felt the friction increase along with his adrenaline level. He trembled as Youji let his control fade, little by little.

The finale was frantic, with the blue-eyed boy clutching the headboard as the elder pounded into him, beyond all sense of reason. Youji's kisses burned Omi's already hot skin, and as soon as he was untied, the elder vanished and once again the house was empty.

Omi took a bath and then a nap. He woke up several hours later to the sound of dishes clanking downstairs. Ken was cleaning up another of his meals. Youji sat at the kitchen table, smoking as he sipped a cup of coffee, Ran was nowhere to be seen. Omi, by then fully dressed once more, leaned against the door frame, sparkling lapis-lazuli eyes narrowed on the green-eyed brunette. "So how was your date, Youji-kun?"

"Great," the playboy responded, casually. A smirk for his fans. "I think she was a virgin."