Title: Recovery Service
Author: scribblemoose
Email: fanfic @scribblemoose.co.uk
Archive: please ask first
Status: Complete
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: just the smut. well, you expect that from me, right?


Disclaimer: Weiß boys belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß.
The rest belongs to me...

OK, sorry I'm being ridiculously prolific at the moment. I'm tired now. Need a lie down. But Gwen's piccies are just so *inspiring*! Love the lovely Gwen :)

This is a little one-shot smutlet that today's pics put in my head. Thank you so much, my dear ^_^


********************************************************
Recovery Service
Scribblemoose
******************
Yohji looked sadly at the ripped shreds of rubber that had once been a high performance sports tyre, and lit a cigarette.

Not again.

He'd have to call Aya. Again. Crap. He wouldn't be pleased. Well, he never was, to be honest, but he'd warned him just last night that his tyres were getting bald. Damn. Fuck. Shit.

Yohji slumped down to sit on the grass, leaning back against the car that, despite its betrayal, was still his favourite thing in the whole world. After a certain redhead. Actually, considering how pissy that redhead had been lately, the car might find itself promoted.

He took a long drag on his cigarette, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

PleaseletOmianswer, pleaseletOmianswer, pleaselet…

"Kudoh?"

Fuck.

"Aya. Um…"

"What is it? We have a shop full of girls here, you know. Where the fuck are you?"

"Ah. The thing about that is…"

There was a long sigh at the other end of the line.

"You broke down? Again?"

"Tyre blew. I'm sorry, Aya, I…"

"For fuck's sake, Kudoh, I told you…"

"Yeah, I know, stupid, blah blah, irresponsible, blah, reckless…"

"You'll have to wait. Or get a bus. I can't leave the shop now."

"But Aya…"

"I don't know why you don't just buy a decent car, Kudoh. It would save us having to rescue your sorry ass all the time."

Yohji snorted outrage. "You take that back, Fujimiya! There's nothing wrong with my car! It's worth a hundred of your…"

"Right, fine, so you don't want me to come fetch you. You'd better be here before Manx arrives at closing, that's all I'm saying. As if you'd miss the chance to ogle her legs anyway."

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? You're still mad at me because you thought I was groping her that time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I was changing gear. My hand slipped. I don't know how many times I have to tell you."

"You were changing gear, and your hand slipped? Do you have any idea how lame that sounds, Kudoh?"

"Lame or otherwise, it's true."

"She said your hand 'slipped' all the way under her skirt."

"That's a downright lie," whined Yohji. "Not that she was wearing much skirt anyway, to speak of. I don't want Manx, Aya. I only want you. I promise."

There was a deep sigh at the other end of the phone. Yohji waited, sucking on his cigarette, eyes big and pleading even though there was no-one there to see them.

"Why should I trust you, Yohji? Just give me one good reason why I should trust you."

"Because I'm cute and good in bed and you love me?"

Another sigh. "I'm sorry, Yohji. Looks like you're stuck there for a few hours. Got your tracer on?"

"Yeah, it's the mountain road we were on that day when…"

"Omi'll track it. Someone'll come and fetch you once the rush is over. Try not to get into too much trouble, Kudoh?"

"Hn." Yohji snorted. Chance would be a fine thing.

There was a beep as Aya hung up on him.

Crap.

Yohji stubbed out his cigarette on a patch of dry earth, and lit another.

He looked out over the mountainside, the tiny road winding down to Tokyo.

If he squinted and used considerable imagination, he could probably see the Koneko from here. With binoculars. Or maybe a telescope.

The view got boring very quickly. He got up and fished around in the car for something to do; the radio wasn't working right now, hadn't really done so since the last time he wrapped the front of his beloved round a lamppost. Fucking car chases. Aya never had to do car chases in his stupid Porsche. Oh no. His targets just hung around and waited for him to come after them with his stupid sword.

His stupid, gleaming, incredibly sexy sword.

Yohji humphed, and reached a hand cautiously under the passenger seat.

Hmm…. Something sticky that had probably once lived in Omi's pocket… ooh, jingly, money… huh, 35 yen wasn't any good to man nor beast… oily rag… eewwww, condom. Condom? He hadn't used one of those since he and Aya… except… oh. Hmmm… Hang on… something papery….

Yohji pulled out a tattered manga, which showed evidence of being far too close to the condom and probably the sticky whatever-it-was. But still, it was reading matter, which was something. Yohji brushed off the worst of the debris, and settled back on the grass. He nestled his back affectionately against the reassuring bodywork of his car, lit yet another cigarette, and started to read.

It wasn't bad, actually. Vaguely implausible, but then Yohji had become used to implausibility. After some of the things he'd seen and done, wolves taking on human form seemed perfectly credible. Hmm. Cute wolves, too… especially the antisocial one with all that dark, messy hair…

The only thing about manga was that they didn't take long to read, however much he lingered to appreciate the detail of the artwork. And it ended on a cliff-hanger, which was somewhat irritating. Maybe Ken or Omi or whoever had left it in his car would have the rest of the set somewhere.

He checked his watch. The rush wouldn't be over for another hour, yet. In fact it would only just have started.

Fuck.

Aya had lied to him. All the fangirls would have been safely locked up in school until ten minutes ago. There's no way he could have been busy when Yohji called.

Yohji added hurt to the list of adjectives that currently described his mood. They sidled up to pissed off, neglected, remorseful, stupid and unhappy to leave him completely miserable.

And, as always, incredibly horny. His head was full of wolf- bishounen and obstinate redheads, and he was all alone out here, and he hadn't been allowed anywhere near Aya for nearly a month.

He looked around him. He really was alone. Chances of anyone coming up this road were zero, plus his Seven neatly shielded him from the highway. He would be able to see anyone coming his way up the mountain from a mile off, long before they could work out what he might be doing.

He had a hard-on that wouldn't go away, and he felt sad and lonely.

Only one thing for it, then.

He unzipped his jeans, and slipped a hand inside to release his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. He hissed at the subtle caress of the warm summer air on his tender skin, and shucked his pants down off his legs. He knew he could get dressed in a hurry if he needed to; fuck, he'd had to do it once or twice in his time, to keep a secret or save himself from an argument with an irate boyfriend, and he hadn't been caught yet. It was worth the risk to feel the open air around him, his skin deliciously exposed.

Yohji liked to take risks.

He pulled his vest over his head, and lay back against his car once again, this time jumping at the shock of the cold metal against his warm back.

He took his cock in his right hand, and started to stroke, concentrating to keep his eyes open in case anyone did happen by. Somehow the acute awareness of his surroundings made him even hornier. He ran his other hand across the tight muscles of his chest, grazing sensitive nipples, and down to his flat belly.

God, but it felt good to be touched, to feel his body come to life under his fingers. He paused in his stroking to rub one finger softly over the tip of his cock, easing his snug foreskin down over the flaring head, teasing the sensitive spot where the silky sheath joined the top of the shaft, just like Aya did…

Yohji let out a little whining noise. He missed Aya. He missed Aya so much…

Aya had always touched his sex as if it were something precious, delicate, a delight to be nurtured and humoured. His fingers never got rougher than firm; he was always careful to keep his teeth under control when he took Yohji in his mouth. Oh, God, his mouth... Yohji started to stroke again, his eyes refusing to focus, wanting to slide shut and give free rein to his imagination. To remember the sight of Aya's crimson hair falling across his belly as he devoured him, tormenting him with his tongue, his fingers stretching and invading…

Aya had liked Yohji's body. He used to approach it possessively, often with a little smile, satisfied, pleased that it was his to play with, and his alone.

Kudoh Yohji, you've got to be the stupidest man that ever lived.

Yohji ran his knuckles down one side of his cock, clasping the root with eager fingers. It felt nothing like Aya, he reflected sadly. Nothing could feel as good as Aya's touch, Aya's mouth, the slick heat of Aya's ass.

You threw away the one good thing that ever happened to you, for a quick grope.

Well, maybe not just for a grope, but still…

He fixed his eyes on a patch of grass in the distance in an attempt to keep them from closing.

Oh, fuck, what he'd give to have Aya here now, naked and willing, straddling his lap and lowering himself over his slick cock. Or bending him over the hood of the Seven and taking him ruthlessly, filling him, pounding in to him, punishing him…

If anyone came along now, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He didn't deserve to have Aya inside him again. He didn't deserve to touch that pale ivory skin, to stuff his mouth with Aya's hard cock and make him groan with pleasure, to sink inside him and feel complete.

He'd had the best, and he'd thrown it away.

He'd never have that silky touch again, never feel Aya beating him off in time with his thrusts in his rhythm, this rhythm, like this, fast and smooth and firm and…

"Aya…"

Yohji's eyes hooded, he threw his head back and came, spurting long ropes of white across his naked, golden skin. He jerked with every spasm of his balls, banging his head loudly on the car behind him. His pulse throbbed at his throat, his blood sang in his ears, and he held his whole body stiff for one last moment before he slumped, spent and exhausted and strangely unsatisfied.

He dragged air into his lungs, and cradled his softening cock sadly in his inadequate fingers.

Not like with Aya. Not as good as Aya. Nothing was as good as Aya.

He felt the afternoon sun warm on his skin, and remembered he was naked.

Still panting a little, he slid his eyes open, blinking in the sudden, outdoors brightness, and met Aya's violet gaze.

He squinted.

Aya?

"Aya?!"

Aya gave him an amused smile, the like of which Yohji hadn't seen for three weeks and five days.

"I see you managed to find something to keep yourself occupied."

Yohji felt an unfamiliar, hot, tingly sensation around his cheeks, and realised he was blushing.

"Here," Aya passed him a handful of tissues. "Get yourself cleaned up and I'll take you home."

"Yeah. Thanks. Um. I…"

Yohji fumbled with his embarrassment and his barely-there brain, and somehow managed to struggle into his clothes. He pulled himself to his feet, tossing the sticky tissues into the Seven, and lit a cigarette with shaking hands.

"You're not smoking that thing in my car."

"No. Um… just give me a few minutes, eh, Aya? I..er.. you caught me by surprise."

Aya sighed impatiently, then nodded. "Alright."

They leaned against Yohji's car, side by side, while Yohji smoked and felt his world ending.

"Thanks for coming out for me," he said, eventually.

"It's okay," said Aya. "I figured you'd suffered enough."

Yohji shot him a sidelong glance, fighting down an irrational hope that he might mean that in a broader sense than just Yohji's car breaking down.

"Really?" he said, turning the full force of his most adorable expression onto Aya.

Aya looked steadily at him. "Yes," he said.

He reached out, and brushed Yohji's hair back from his face.

Yohji stared at him, slack jawed, his cigarette dangling from his lower lip for a moment before he thought to remove it.

"Yes as in…"

"Yes as in I think you're worth a second chance."

Yohji dropped his eyes to the ground, thinking fast. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve Aya. He couldn't believe that Aya was offering him…

"Aya, I can't…"

"Look at me." Aya tilted his chin up so their eyes met. Yohji looked into his trusting amethyst gaze and wanted to cry.

"My hand didn't slip on the gear shift," he confessed.

Aya continued to look steadily into his eyes.

"I know," he said.

Yohji swallowed hard. He couldn't let Aya do this. He couldn't live with himself. Every time he looked into his eyes, every time he kissed him, he'd remember this moment, and…

"I didn't just grope her. I pulled over and kissed her and we fucked in the car."

Aya's expression barely changed.

"I know," he said. If there was anything new in his eyes, it was relief.

"But…"

"I'm not stupid, Yohji. I'm really, really not."

"So… what? You don't ... care?"

"Of course I fucking care. It hurts like hell. I trusted you, you bastard."

"I'm sorry," Yohji whimpered, and he meant it. He meant it from the depths of his sorry, blackened soul.

"I know what you're like, Yohji." Aya brushed his hair back again, threading his fingers through it slowly, gently. "I always knew. It was only a matter of time."

"I shouldn't… I wish… I tried. I really tried."

"If you're going to be with me, Kudoh, you'll have to try a fuck of a sight harder than that."

"I will! Oh, God, Aya, if you'll let me …"

"This is your last chance, Yohji. I mean it. If you cheat on me again, and believe me, I'll know if you so much as think*of anyone else, I won't just dump you. I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish Schwartz had got to you first."

Yohji nodded mutely.

Aya cradled his head in his long, gentle fingers, and kissed him.

Yohji melted under his touch, a faint whimper coming from his throat, sliding his arms slowly around Aya's waist, almost frightened to touch him in case it burst the bubble.

"Yours…" whispered Yohji, when Aya finally took his lips away. "All yours. Promise. Always."

"Hn. We'll see," said Aya, gruffly. "Come on, let's go home."

Yohji nodded, and set about making the Seven as secure as possible before he abandoned it to the roadside. "Can we go to the garage on the way?" he asked. "I don't like to leave her out here all night."

"Okay," said Aya. "Hurry up, though, we still have to get back in time for Manx's little visit, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Yohji followed Aya to his car in a daze, wondering if he was dreaming. "Aya…"

"What?"

Yohji paused, one hand on the door handle of the Porsche.

"Why did you change your mind? If you knew what I did? You were so mad, even just this morning when you nearly shut my hand in the door, and when I called earlier…"

Aya looked at him over the roof of the car, and gave Yohji a little smile.

"Seeing you out here, just now," he said. "You look so beautiful when you come."

Yohji blinked, and blushed all over again.

"Get in the car, baka," said Aya, opening the driver's side door and sliding behind the wheel.

Yohji got in beside him, clicked his seat belt in a daze. Aya started the car and headed back on the narrow road that snaked to and from Mount Fuji.

Yohji gazed out at the mountains for a long while, thinking that he had no right to feel this happy. No right at all. Not that he was going to let it stop him. Gradually, a smile crept onto his lips, and he let it stay there, trying it out for size. It felt good. Aya didn't hate him. Aya wanted him. Aya thought he was beautiful. Aya had given him another chance.

Yohji felt a hand on his knee.

"Aya?"

"Sorry." Aya teased Yohji's thigh with his fingertips, glancing him a wicked slantwise smirk. "Must've slipped."

Yohji just grinned.

* * * * * * *

Back