Betrayed
Please Note- This fic has been rated Mature for a reason! It contains graphic sexual references/conversations, homosexual sex, drug use, violence and loads of swearing and generally grown up situations. Please adhere to the age of consent for your country. I take no responsibility for those who don't.
I do not own the copyright on these characters. I get no money for writing about them. It's purely an act of worship (and lust) so please don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway.
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It was a stupid mistake. I only looked away for a moment because I heard Aya shouting somewhere else in the building and, while I was distracted, my victim, who had seemed dead, took the opportunity to stick a knife into my side. I felt it sliding in and was more surprised than anything else. I proceeded to kill him efficiently (certainly more efficiently than last time) during that endless instant before the pain registers. As he slumped to the floor I looked down thoughtfully and watched my blood staining my clothes, seeping out like the treacherous bastard that it is. I was aware of the burning pain of it and that little, calm voice in the back of my head remarked,
‘Well, this is an interesting experience.’
‘Shut up,’ I told it.
I leaned against the wall for support. I felt like I had been kicked by an ice skater.
Elsewhere in the cult’s headquarters there was screaming. We had been sent to end the operation of a religious guru cum confidence trickster who had recently begun to believe his own spiritual crap. He had concluded that he was God incarnate.
This tends to unhinge people somewhat.
So he had inevitably started to preach the apocalypse and armed his crazy followers with guns, lots and lots of guns.
And knives, it seemed.
‘You are going to so embarrassed if you are killed by an insignificant cultist,’ the voice in my mind observed.
‘Shut up.’
I held my hand tight over the bleeding and staggered in the direction of the screaming. That is usually where the others are to be found and I needed to find them before I bled to death, otherwise I would never hear the end of it. The corridors seemed endless and the far distance kept blurring so that I had to stop and shake my head to clear it. It took an age to find my colleagues in the ‘chapel’ where they were surrounded with dead bodies. Aya was grim faced, even for him, and I noticed just how many of the bodies on the ground were women and teenagers.
They couldn’t have needed killing, surely?
Then I realised. These people were cultists. They believed, they desperately believed, with every ounce of their tainted souls. Weiss had threatened to remove their certainty. We had taken away their bastion in a world of unendurable chaos. They had probably all but thrown themselves on Aya’s sword. No wonder Omi looked so upset.
Ken saw me first, as I swayed slightly in the fitful light.
“Yohji!” he exclaimed, running to my side and putting an arm around me, holding me up.
“I think that hospital would be quite a good idea now,” I suggested, relief washing over me, but before Ken could reply he was yanked away from me and I found that a cold gun barrel was pressed against the side of my temple. The steel felt slimy on my skin. I glanced to one side with the tiniest movement.
Schuldig stood between us, his arms stretched out, holding two guns, one thrust into my head and the other digging into Ken’s. I swore inwardly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Aya, frozen, white knuckles on his Katana blade. The whole room was suddenly very quiet.
“You know, I woke up this morning and I was just in a really guns sort of place.”
Schuldig remarked, addressing himself to Aya as ever.
Aya raised his sword but Schuldig tutted, “You know I will have killed at least one of them before you can get to me. Don’t be an idiot, any more than you can help anyway.”
Aya’s jaw was so tight that I was surprised that his teeth weren’t being crushed to powder. Omi stood near him, eyes wide, mouth open in horror.
“I am having a really nasty day,” Schuldig said, “You just killed a friend of mine.”
Aya snorted.
“Oh I do have friends, “Schuldig insisted, “or people who amuse me and the cult leader, he was just hilarious, especially as he got madder and madder. Yes, he was excellent value. And you just killed him. So now I am going to kill one of your friends, choose.”
“What?” Aya twitched slightly. I wished that they would get on with it. My blood was dripping onto my shoes. I liked those shoes.
“Choose which one I kill, choose or I will kill both of them.”
Omi looked at Aya as if he was expecting him to have an instant plan. But I knew that Aya couldn’t reach us in time to save both of us. Ken had stupidly dropped his weapon to run to my aid, Omi was out of arrows, I was busy dying and Aya’s katana wasn’t exactly a distance weapon. Whereas all that Schuldig had to do was clench two fingers.
There was a long shuddering moment, like the silence just after someone says something unforgiveable to someone they care about, a no way back kind of quiet. I did have the decency to feel sorry for Ken though, through the haze of pain. Aya was going to choose him. He would hardly sacrifice me. Then Aya spoke and nothing was ever quite the same again.
“Alright then, if you insist, kill Yohji.”
I felt Schuldig jump with shock. I listened to the sound of my world collapsing about my ears as everything I believed in fell away. This must have been how the cultists had felt. Served me right, I supposed. Yet, there must have been some kind of mistake. This wasn’t happening, wasn’t happening. Aya was my lover, he would never...
Out of nowhere there was a blood curdling shriek and someone threw themselves onto Schuldig. I fell onto the floor, no longer able to keep myself upright, and watched the woman, out of her mind with rage, as she scratched and dug at Schuldig’s eyes. This gave Ken time to get a kick onto Schuldig’s wrist that audibly snapped the bone. He howled with pain and the woman laughed and thrust her fingernails deeper. He shook her angrily to the floor and stamped on her neck, crushing the bones and ending her laughter. Then he fled, hand hanging at an agonising angle and eyes awash with blood.
At this point I am fairly sure that I passed out.
I woke up in the hospital so doped up on painkillers that Omi seemed to be leaning over me from a hundred miles away.
“Welcome back!” he grinned. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” I heard myself say, “Nice drugs, good drugs.”
“Go back to sleep,” Omi ordered, “You have had ten stitches. But you were lucky, it was a superficial wound.”
“Superficial my arse!” I grumbled. “Will I have a manly scar?”
Everything felt unreal. I knew that the world had come to an end somehow but I couldn’t work out why.
I woke again the next day and things were horribly, relentlessly clear. Aya had told Schuldig to kill me. Life had fallen to pieces. I turned my head and saw Ken sitting by my bed. He caught my eye, a little guiltily.
“You alright?” he asked, awkwardly, “Do you want a drink of water?”
I nodded. My throat felt like it was full of empty crisp packets. Ken held out a plastic cup of water.
“I’m sorry!” he blurted, as I drank.
“What for?” I said, “It’s not like you told Schuldig to shoot me.”
Ken shrugged miserably, “I don’t know. I just...saw your face when Aya chose you and it almost made me wish that he had picked me instead.”
“Me too,” I grinned, trying to sound light hearted and failing utterly. Ken forced a smile and then coughed nervously.
“I know...about you two, Yohji.” Ken was blushing, “You must be feeling...I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK,” I told him, “I know why he did it. I was wounded. He was picking the one with the greater chance of survival. It was perfectly logical.”
And that, of course, was exactly why I was so fucking destroyed, that even in that nightmarish moment Aya hadn’t thought with his heart (missing, presumed dead) but with his usual cold, calm rationale. He had followed impeccable Weiss procedure, triage and decision making. The fact that we had been lovers for months hadn’t caused him to waver. Not even a little bit.
I stayed in the hospital longer than I needed to. I claimed to feel feverish and they pumped me full of antibiotics. I deliberately popped some stitches so that they had to sew me up again. I was prepared to do anything to avoid having to face Aya. He didn’t visit me of course. Omi seemed to come twice as often to make up for it. It made me smile to see his appalled little face. On the day that I was finally discharged he whispered,
“I keep thinking how Aya would let me die too, if he thought that it was logical.”
“I would save you Omi,” I swore, leaning on him as we headed down the corridor.
“Of course it’s just Aya,” Omi rattled on as we waited for the lift, “It’s what he’s like. It’s what he’s always been like. But it’s worse for you because you are in love with him.”
I froze, staring at the metal doors sightlessly. Omi ground to a horrified halt beside me. I could practically hear him kicking himself.
It was true. I was in love with Aya. I hadn’t really thought about it until now. I smiled to myself bleakly. Only a total masochist would fall in love with Aya. I started laughing but it made my stitches hurt.
When we arrived back home I went straight to my room determined to avoid Aya at all costs. Omi and Ken wisely kept their heads down. I sat on my bed and had a drink of brandy. The alcohol swirled pleasantly with all my pain killers.
‘Pain killers,’ I thought, ‘ha!’
The only pain I was currently bothered by was the one in my chest. The calm (remarkably Aya-like) voice in my head commented, ‘He’s not in love with you, you know. He would probably make that choice again tomorrow.’
I closed my eyes. I hadn’t had many illusions about Aya even before this. I had been certain that Aya felt only the vaguest of affection for me. He had never given the smallest hint that his emotions were anything like as intense as mine. In fact, he had never referred to his feelings at all. But I had secretly hoped that months of mind blowing sex would wear him down eventually. So it was my fault really, for hoping.
That was where I had made my mistake.
A sudden movement in my bedroom made me open my eyes abruptly. It was dark now, I must have fallen asleep for awhile.
Aya’s violet eyes were looking down at me from the side of the bed.
“Get out,” I said, wearily, “I understand why you did it but get out anyway.”
When he spoke he sounded nervous, “I have to make you forgive me Yohji.”
“Good luck with that.” I tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I was hoping that he would sod off and leave me alone. I was cold and I wanted to pull the blankets up and go back to sleep. Aya leaned over me.
“Touch me and I will kill you,” I hissed. Aya’s eyes darkened sadly. We both knew that it was an empty threat. I wasn’t strong enough to fight off anyone.
Aya lay down on the bed beside me, his body stretched out against mine. I closed my eyes defiantly. He wasn’t going to fuck me into forgiveness, no way. But it was inevitable that my body would respond to him as it always had. I had turned my head away from him but I could still feel his breath on my neck.
“Yohji,” he said, his lips just grazing my skin, “I can’t stand being without you. Please forgive me.”
I didn’t reply. I just stared at the wall. He was so sure of himself. So sure that I would put up with this emotional torture because I wanted him so badly. I prayed that, unlike Omi, he had been too dense to see that I was in love with him. I wanted to cling on to the last vestiges of my dignity.
But he had said that he couldn’t stand not being with me. He had never said anything like that before. My heart started pounding uncomfortably, stirring up dregs of brandy and drugs.
“Yohji,” he whispered, again, his hand taking mine in the dark. I started when his fingers twisted into mine. “I saw the girl.”
My head snapped around and I found myself looking straight into his eyes. Our noses were almost touching. He looked anxious, which was another first.
“I saw her creeping up behind Schuldig and I knew that I had to hold his attention or he would hear her thoughts. So I pummelled him with memories, with images of you and I together. I put my whole mind into showing him just what you mean to me so that when I chose you he would be thrown by it for a moment and she would have her chance.”
Crazy hope was rising in me.
“I was just bluffing,” he insisted, “I was just giving the cultist a free run at him.”
Aya kissed my lower lip, gently and slowly. It was so soft and hot, his mouth moved like a real lovers’ and not just like a man who liked to fuck me occasionally. I couldn’t help kissing him back. My pulse was threatening to come out the top of my head. Aya pulled away.
“If you,” I managed, mumbling like an idiot, “Why didn’t you visit me in the hospital?”
Aya ran our joined hands softly up my thigh. My skin burned.
“I was too ashamed to face you. I bluffed with your life. I don’t really expect you to forgive me.”
“So why are you trying to make me?”
“Oh, I don’t know, possibly because I am in love with you.”
Stunned, I did nothing and said nothing. I lay there and stared at him. Perhaps I had fallen asleep again. Who was this man who talked about his feelings and said that he loved me? No one I knew.
“How can you not have known that?” he marvelled in genuine surprise.
“When was I meant to figure it out?” I snapped, my nerves twanging like angry elastic bands. “Was it when you used me for a casual fuck? Was it that time I forgot and kissed you in the street and you punched me in the face?”
Aya’s eyes fell, “I thought it was obvious.”
I glared at him incredulously and then I started laughing painfully. Laughing at both of us. We were like an American teen soap opera full of gorgeous people and dreadful misunderstandings. I tangled my fingers in his red hair and tugged him towards me. I was smiling at last.
[censored content - adult access must be enabled to view it]
I collapsed back against the sheets, all thought gone. My stitches ached but it had been entirely worth it. Aya crept up my sweat damped body and lay beside me. He kissed my cheek lingeringly and asked,
“Did you break your stitches?”
“Don’t.Care.Too.Happy.” I panted. He chuckled low in the back of his throat like an animal purring.
“You tasted good,” he informed me as he burrowed under my arm. I found myself blushing which he seemed to find hilarious. I had never heard him laugh like that.
“Sleep now,” he said, “Get some sleep and heal.”
“How kind you are doctor,” I murmured.
“Heal soon. So that I can fuck your brains out.” he added.
I was silent for a moment, imagining, and then I drifted off, his hands making lazy patterns on my chest. I wondered if I would wake up with Aya or with Ran.
I didn’t care. I loved both of them.
I do not own the copyright on these characters. I get no money for writing about them. It's purely an act of worship (and lust) so please don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway.
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It was a stupid mistake. I only looked away for a moment because I heard Aya shouting somewhere else in the building and, while I was distracted, my victim, who had seemed dead, took the opportunity to stick a knife into my side. I felt it sliding in and was more surprised than anything else. I proceeded to kill him efficiently (certainly more efficiently than last time) during that endless instant before the pain registers. As he slumped to the floor I looked down thoughtfully and watched my blood staining my clothes, seeping out like the treacherous bastard that it is. I was aware of the burning pain of it and that little, calm voice in the back of my head remarked,
‘Well, this is an interesting experience.’
‘Shut up,’ I told it.
I leaned against the wall for support. I felt like I had been kicked by an ice skater.
Elsewhere in the cult’s headquarters there was screaming. We had been sent to end the operation of a religious guru cum confidence trickster who had recently begun to believe his own spiritual crap. He had concluded that he was God incarnate.
This tends to unhinge people somewhat.
So he had inevitably started to preach the apocalypse and armed his crazy followers with guns, lots and lots of guns.
And knives, it seemed.
‘You are going to so embarrassed if you are killed by an insignificant cultist,’ the voice in my mind observed.
‘Shut up.’
I held my hand tight over the bleeding and staggered in the direction of the screaming. That is usually where the others are to be found and I needed to find them before I bled to death, otherwise I would never hear the end of it. The corridors seemed endless and the far distance kept blurring so that I had to stop and shake my head to clear it. It took an age to find my colleagues in the ‘chapel’ where they were surrounded with dead bodies. Aya was grim faced, even for him, and I noticed just how many of the bodies on the ground were women and teenagers.
They couldn’t have needed killing, surely?
Then I realised. These people were cultists. They believed, they desperately believed, with every ounce of their tainted souls. Weiss had threatened to remove their certainty. We had taken away their bastion in a world of unendurable chaos. They had probably all but thrown themselves on Aya’s sword. No wonder Omi looked so upset.
Ken saw me first, as I swayed slightly in the fitful light.
“Yohji!” he exclaimed, running to my side and putting an arm around me, holding me up.
“I think that hospital would be quite a good idea now,” I suggested, relief washing over me, but before Ken could reply he was yanked away from me and I found that a cold gun barrel was pressed against the side of my temple. The steel felt slimy on my skin. I glanced to one side with the tiniest movement.
Schuldig stood between us, his arms stretched out, holding two guns, one thrust into my head and the other digging into Ken’s. I swore inwardly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Aya, frozen, white knuckles on his Katana blade. The whole room was suddenly very quiet.
“You know, I woke up this morning and I was just in a really guns sort of place.”
Schuldig remarked, addressing himself to Aya as ever.
Aya raised his sword but Schuldig tutted, “You know I will have killed at least one of them before you can get to me. Don’t be an idiot, any more than you can help anyway.”
Aya’s jaw was so tight that I was surprised that his teeth weren’t being crushed to powder. Omi stood near him, eyes wide, mouth open in horror.
“I am having a really nasty day,” Schuldig said, “You just killed a friend of mine.”
Aya snorted.
“Oh I do have friends, “Schuldig insisted, “or people who amuse me and the cult leader, he was just hilarious, especially as he got madder and madder. Yes, he was excellent value. And you just killed him. So now I am going to kill one of your friends, choose.”
“What?” Aya twitched slightly. I wished that they would get on with it. My blood was dripping onto my shoes. I liked those shoes.
“Choose which one I kill, choose or I will kill both of them.”
Omi looked at Aya as if he was expecting him to have an instant plan. But I knew that Aya couldn’t reach us in time to save both of us. Ken had stupidly dropped his weapon to run to my aid, Omi was out of arrows, I was busy dying and Aya’s katana wasn’t exactly a distance weapon. Whereas all that Schuldig had to do was clench two fingers.
There was a long shuddering moment, like the silence just after someone says something unforgiveable to someone they care about, a no way back kind of quiet. I did have the decency to feel sorry for Ken though, through the haze of pain. Aya was going to choose him. He would hardly sacrifice me. Then Aya spoke and nothing was ever quite the same again.
“Alright then, if you insist, kill Yohji.”
I felt Schuldig jump with shock. I listened to the sound of my world collapsing about my ears as everything I believed in fell away. This must have been how the cultists had felt. Served me right, I supposed. Yet, there must have been some kind of mistake. This wasn’t happening, wasn’t happening. Aya was my lover, he would never...
Out of nowhere there was a blood curdling shriek and someone threw themselves onto Schuldig. I fell onto the floor, no longer able to keep myself upright, and watched the woman, out of her mind with rage, as she scratched and dug at Schuldig’s eyes. This gave Ken time to get a kick onto Schuldig’s wrist that audibly snapped the bone. He howled with pain and the woman laughed and thrust her fingernails deeper. He shook her angrily to the floor and stamped on her neck, crushing the bones and ending her laughter. Then he fled, hand hanging at an agonising angle and eyes awash with blood.
At this point I am fairly sure that I passed out.
I woke up in the hospital so doped up on painkillers that Omi seemed to be leaning over me from a hundred miles away.
“Welcome back!” he grinned. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” I heard myself say, “Nice drugs, good drugs.”
“Go back to sleep,” Omi ordered, “You have had ten stitches. But you were lucky, it was a superficial wound.”
“Superficial my arse!” I grumbled. “Will I have a manly scar?”
Everything felt unreal. I knew that the world had come to an end somehow but I couldn’t work out why.
I woke again the next day and things were horribly, relentlessly clear. Aya had told Schuldig to kill me. Life had fallen to pieces. I turned my head and saw Ken sitting by my bed. He caught my eye, a little guiltily.
“You alright?” he asked, awkwardly, “Do you want a drink of water?”
I nodded. My throat felt like it was full of empty crisp packets. Ken held out a plastic cup of water.
“I’m sorry!” he blurted, as I drank.
“What for?” I said, “It’s not like you told Schuldig to shoot me.”
Ken shrugged miserably, “I don’t know. I just...saw your face when Aya chose you and it almost made me wish that he had picked me instead.”
“Me too,” I grinned, trying to sound light hearted and failing utterly. Ken forced a smile and then coughed nervously.
“I know...about you two, Yohji.” Ken was blushing, “You must be feeling...I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK,” I told him, “I know why he did it. I was wounded. He was picking the one with the greater chance of survival. It was perfectly logical.”
And that, of course, was exactly why I was so fucking destroyed, that even in that nightmarish moment Aya hadn’t thought with his heart (missing, presumed dead) but with his usual cold, calm rationale. He had followed impeccable Weiss procedure, triage and decision making. The fact that we had been lovers for months hadn’t caused him to waver. Not even a little bit.
I stayed in the hospital longer than I needed to. I claimed to feel feverish and they pumped me full of antibiotics. I deliberately popped some stitches so that they had to sew me up again. I was prepared to do anything to avoid having to face Aya. He didn’t visit me of course. Omi seemed to come twice as often to make up for it. It made me smile to see his appalled little face. On the day that I was finally discharged he whispered,
“I keep thinking how Aya would let me die too, if he thought that it was logical.”
“I would save you Omi,” I swore, leaning on him as we headed down the corridor.
“Of course it’s just Aya,” Omi rattled on as we waited for the lift, “It’s what he’s like. It’s what he’s always been like. But it’s worse for you because you are in love with him.”
I froze, staring at the metal doors sightlessly. Omi ground to a horrified halt beside me. I could practically hear him kicking himself.
It was true. I was in love with Aya. I hadn’t really thought about it until now. I smiled to myself bleakly. Only a total masochist would fall in love with Aya. I started laughing but it made my stitches hurt.
When we arrived back home I went straight to my room determined to avoid Aya at all costs. Omi and Ken wisely kept their heads down. I sat on my bed and had a drink of brandy. The alcohol swirled pleasantly with all my pain killers.
‘Pain killers,’ I thought, ‘ha!’
The only pain I was currently bothered by was the one in my chest. The calm (remarkably Aya-like) voice in my head commented, ‘He’s not in love with you, you know. He would probably make that choice again tomorrow.’
I closed my eyes. I hadn’t had many illusions about Aya even before this. I had been certain that Aya felt only the vaguest of affection for me. He had never given the smallest hint that his emotions were anything like as intense as mine. In fact, he had never referred to his feelings at all. But I had secretly hoped that months of mind blowing sex would wear him down eventually. So it was my fault really, for hoping.
That was where I had made my mistake.
A sudden movement in my bedroom made me open my eyes abruptly. It was dark now, I must have fallen asleep for awhile.
Aya’s violet eyes were looking down at me from the side of the bed.
“Get out,” I said, wearily, “I understand why you did it but get out anyway.”
When he spoke he sounded nervous, “I have to make you forgive me Yohji.”
“Good luck with that.” I tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I was hoping that he would sod off and leave me alone. I was cold and I wanted to pull the blankets up and go back to sleep. Aya leaned over me.
“Touch me and I will kill you,” I hissed. Aya’s eyes darkened sadly. We both knew that it was an empty threat. I wasn’t strong enough to fight off anyone.
Aya lay down on the bed beside me, his body stretched out against mine. I closed my eyes defiantly. He wasn’t going to fuck me into forgiveness, no way. But it was inevitable that my body would respond to him as it always had. I had turned my head away from him but I could still feel his breath on my neck.
“Yohji,” he said, his lips just grazing my skin, “I can’t stand being without you. Please forgive me.”
I didn’t reply. I just stared at the wall. He was so sure of himself. So sure that I would put up with this emotional torture because I wanted him so badly. I prayed that, unlike Omi, he had been too dense to see that I was in love with him. I wanted to cling on to the last vestiges of my dignity.
But he had said that he couldn’t stand not being with me. He had never said anything like that before. My heart started pounding uncomfortably, stirring up dregs of brandy and drugs.
“Yohji,” he whispered, again, his hand taking mine in the dark. I started when his fingers twisted into mine. “I saw the girl.”
My head snapped around and I found myself looking straight into his eyes. Our noses were almost touching. He looked anxious, which was another first.
“I saw her creeping up behind Schuldig and I knew that I had to hold his attention or he would hear her thoughts. So I pummelled him with memories, with images of you and I together. I put my whole mind into showing him just what you mean to me so that when I chose you he would be thrown by it for a moment and she would have her chance.”
Crazy hope was rising in me.
“I was just bluffing,” he insisted, “I was just giving the cultist a free run at him.”
Aya kissed my lower lip, gently and slowly. It was so soft and hot, his mouth moved like a real lovers’ and not just like a man who liked to fuck me occasionally. I couldn’t help kissing him back. My pulse was threatening to come out the top of my head. Aya pulled away.
“If you,” I managed, mumbling like an idiot, “Why didn’t you visit me in the hospital?”
Aya ran our joined hands softly up my thigh. My skin burned.
“I was too ashamed to face you. I bluffed with your life. I don’t really expect you to forgive me.”
“So why are you trying to make me?”
“Oh, I don’t know, possibly because I am in love with you.”
Stunned, I did nothing and said nothing. I lay there and stared at him. Perhaps I had fallen asleep again. Who was this man who talked about his feelings and said that he loved me? No one I knew.
“How can you not have known that?” he marvelled in genuine surprise.
“When was I meant to figure it out?” I snapped, my nerves twanging like angry elastic bands. “Was it when you used me for a casual fuck? Was it that time I forgot and kissed you in the street and you punched me in the face?”
Aya’s eyes fell, “I thought it was obvious.”
I glared at him incredulously and then I started laughing painfully. Laughing at both of us. We were like an American teen soap opera full of gorgeous people and dreadful misunderstandings. I tangled my fingers in his red hair and tugged him towards me. I was smiling at last.
[censored content - adult access must be enabled to view it]
I collapsed back against the sheets, all thought gone. My stitches ached but it had been entirely worth it. Aya crept up my sweat damped body and lay beside me. He kissed my cheek lingeringly and asked,
“Did you break your stitches?”
“Don’t.Care.Too.Happy.” I panted. He chuckled low in the back of his throat like an animal purring.
“You tasted good,” he informed me as he burrowed under my arm. I found myself blushing which he seemed to find hilarious. I had never heard him laugh like that.
“Sleep now,” he said, “Get some sleep and heal.”
“How kind you are doctor,” I murmured.
“Heal soon. So that I can fuck your brains out.” he added.
I was silent for a moment, imagining, and then I drifted off, his hands making lazy patterns on my chest. I wondered if I would wake up with Aya or with Ran.
I didn’t care. I loved both of them.
