SWITCHBLADE SERENADE

The sound you hear is the knife cut,
Switchblade serenade

The sound you hear is the knife cut,

Switchblade serenade….CUT!

Yohji stumbled into the safety of the Koneko right behind the others. It was well after midnight and their latest mission had finally come to the usual end. The target died, gasping out his last breath while begging the tall blonde for mercy, neatly garroted by the wire that lay hidden in his watch. The original plan called for Aya to skewer the underworld filth with his katana, but Crawford and the rest of Schwartz showed up and made faking it inevitable. So, while the fierce redhead and the dark-haired American traded sharp retorts and even sharper blows from their weapons, Yohji slipped past Mastermind, Prodigy and Berserker and made their presence superfluous by exterminating their employer.

The building had gone up in a spectacular fountain of flames, smoke and flying debris (just like always) and the exhausted team returned to the protection of their everyday lives in the Koneko. Upon returning to their home, Yohji had waited patiently for someone to say those two small, but rather important words and when they weren't forth coming, he decided that the stress of the night had caused everyone to forget the date. Besides, it was only two in the morning and none of them were truly thinking clearly. He'd wait until later and then the others would remember what today meant and insist that he sleep in and not take his turn in the shop.

Wishful thinking.

I got a wicked woman,
Woman got a vicious tongue.
Every night I come home a little drunk,

And we go one on one.

Yohji's day started off with a bang, or more precisely with Aya banging on his door. Slowly the thick waters of sleep parted and he swam into consciousness. He wrapped one of the many throws he had on the bed around his waist and stumbled to the rattling door. Bleary emerald eyes peered around the heavy oak and into cool, angry amethyst ones. The redhead didn't seem to be carrying any gifts or breakfast.

"Get up," Aya growled. "It's almost time to open the shop."

"But–"

"And before you ask, Omi's got cram school and Ken's out coaching his kids. So, don't bother asking either of them to switch with you." The surly redhead turned on his heels and stalked down the stairs. "I expect to see you on time for once, Kuduo."

"But…" he managed to gasp out before Aya disappeared into the lower part of the building. "Good morning to you too, asshole." He sighed and turned back to the crumpled mess that he had been sleeping in. The first week after a kill tended to be really rough on his bedding; he had a tendency to toss and turn and get caught up in nightmares. The mere thought of climbing back into the sweat soaked, wrinkled linens made him shudder with disgust and was enough to get him moving. He quickly stripped and remade the bed. He took his time picking out what to wear; looking his best always made his day a little brighter. And besides, he needed to look great to greet his fan club. After that task, he meandered into the bathroom and started the shower. Stepping into the steaming stream of water, he sighed his relief as his neck and back muscles started to relax.

His peaceful, easy feeling lasted as long as the hot water. Just as he started soaping up his body, the water ran icy. With a yelp he quickly rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and finished washing his long limbs, cursing Ken the entire time. The muscle-bound idiot always seemed to forget that there were three other people that needed to use the hot water in the Koneko. Granted that Ken's approach to life tended to be very physical and that led to a lot of sore muscles and strained joints, but he had to be a little more considerate of the others living in the household. Or at least, that's what Yohji thought.

He stepped out of the now freezing shower and quickly toweled himself off, hoping that the friction from rubbing his body would draw some heat back into his frozen limbs. With practiced ease, he massaged the water out of his golden locks, drew them back into a loose tail (leaving the front free so that he could flirt from under the wild tresses) and sauntered down the stairs with a cool demeanor that would aggravate the hell out of Aya and drive his fans crazy with want. Not that he would ever consider dating any of the fan girls that congregated around the shop, but he also wouldn't go through life with one hand tied behind his back either.

"Everyone cheer, Kuduo is here!" he announced, stepping through the door into the flower-laden warmth of the store. In his haste, he'd forgotten one small but ever so important detail…if Omi had cram school, so did most of the high school girls that fluttered about the flower shop like so many brightly colored butterflies. The only other people looking at flowers were a couple of middle-aged housefraus and an older man who looked like he had just spent the night on the sofa.

He smiled and focused on the few customers that straggled in over the course of the morning. As soon as Omi and Ken made their appearances and the two magic words weren't used, Yohji decided to go shopping. That would give his friends time to get things ready for his return.

Yohji was more than ready to leave the Koneko. Aya's brooding silence had all of his nerves on edge and as soon as Omi's bright face came into view the tall Eurasian bolted for the door.

"Yohji?" came the youngest member's voice.

"I'm going out for a while," he shouted back up the stairs that lead to the underground garage where Seven sat waiting for him. "I'll be back before you know it." Besides escaping the ominous silence, his absence would give the others time to prepare the surprise party he just knew that they had cooked up.

Sittin' in the kitchen, listenin' to you bitchin',

Every night of my life.
You make this house a combat zone,

You cut me like a knife.

Woman you're tougher than leather,

You make it hard on me.

We've got problems baby that's okay,

'Cause I'm still lovin' you anyway.

If we put down our weapons for just one night,

Maybe we can make it right,

But we just fight about it.

Yohji entered the Koneko, tripping over his own feet in the darkness. A sly grin drifted lazily across his features at the thought of the surprise that he knew would be waiting. Upstairs in the living area of the building his three colleagues would be hiding in the dark, waiting for him to creep up the stairs and then they would give him the start of his life. He was too clever for that; he knew they were up there, lurking in the shadows with presents, cake and ice cream. Or at least that's what he hoped they were doing.

He listened, ears straining for the slightest hint of breathing, moving or life period. His assassin-trained senses didn't detect anything. Not the slightest bit of noise to indicate that his comrades and friends were lurking in the darkness of the shared common rooms. He flipped on the light and the only thing that met his ears or eyes was a simple piece of white paper, lying in contrast to the dark wood of the kitchen table.

Omi's neat handwriting graced the upper side of the note. Yohji, it read, Aya has gone to visit his sister. Ken's over at a friend's watching the World Cup of Soccer and I'm going laser bowling with some of my friends from school. We left you some take-out Chinese in the fridge and none of us should be too late. See ya soon, Omi.

Depression hit him like a two-ton anvil. The overpowering urge to fall to his knees and weep nearly forced him off his feet. He pulled himself up, crumpled the ever so politely worded note into a ball and pitched it into the nearest wastebasket. He stalked up the stairs, with every intention on sulking - until he remembered that there was no one to mope for. The rustle of his packages caught his attention and he smiled a smile that would have done a certain literary cat proud. Yohji Kuduo wouldn't be found pouting on his birthday. There was a whole town full of clubs to visit, beautiful women to charm and possibly bed and a whole bevy of charming, beddable young men to lounge at his feet. If his so-called friends wouldn't remember his one special day of the year, there would be a flock of admirers waiting for him.

He strode into his room, set his bags down and began to strip, flinging his clothes every which way in his haste. He needed a shower to start his power preparations then watch out Tokyo…Yotan was on the prowl.

Tell me I'm wastin' my money,

Tell me I'm wastin' my time,

Hangin' with trash, spendin' my cash,

On cheap talk, whiskey and wine.

You just ain't the same girl,

Same girl I used to know,

Love and hate seem to be our fate,

And it cuts me to the bone.

The stairs wouldn't hold still when he staggered home just before dawn. He held his hand out in front of his face, trying to bring the wildly weaving staircase in focus. It had been an outrageously wonderful night that ended in the best sex he'd had in years. Hopefully, his partner wouldn't let the others know about the two of them. A dim light shone down the steps, lighting his way. He reached the landing and tried to tiptoe past the opening that led to the shared rooms.

"Kuduo," Aya's voice grated against his eardrums. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Ayan," he slurred, "I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

"Get your scrawny ass in here," came the irritated command.

"Look," he snapped, sobering up a bit. "I'm in no mood to listen to you bitch right now. I've had a wonderful night, gotten the best piece of ass I've had in a long time and am totally smashed. I would like things to stay that way for a little longer." Aya's mouth opened to start voicing one of his endless orders or complaints. "Look Fujimiya, there's no mission, the shop's not open today because it's Sunday and I can do what I want with my own time."

"And what if there had been a mission?" Aya countered. "What if your negligence had put us in danger? It's about time that you started thinking of the group instead of just yourself. The rest of us are tired of cleaning up after you and we won't from now on."

The breathtaking afterglow from his night out vanished along with his drunkenness. Listening to the redhead's complaints was a slap in the face to him. Never once had he expected the others to clean up after him. And never had he ever forgotten one of their birthdays. Although there were times that Aya probably wanted him to, knowing Yohji's sense of humor.

"Think and do what you want, Aya," he snarled, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. "But before you judge me, take a look at the calendar and tell me if you've forgotten anything." With that he walked up the stairs to the sanctuary of his own room, slammed the door shut and locked it. And after considering it, he pulled a heavy, antique steamer trunk in front of the door to keep Omi and Ken out of his space. They all could pick the locks on the doors with disgusting ease.

He stripped off his clothes for the second time in less than twelve hours, smiled at the poignant memories the glittering garments brought to mind and began to jack off at the tidal wave of lust that washed over him . . . . . . . .

He had showered, using some specially scented bath products. The rich, musky fragrance produced an arousal in everyone that smelled it and he wasn't immune to the influences of it. After he finished his bath, he had dried his hair upside-down to give it body and bounce, and then streaked gold hair mascara through his tresses. The glitter caused his hair and skin to take on a more golden tone. He lined his eyes with a gold-dusted emerald color, making them even greener. A light coat of gold-sprinkled rose sharpened his cheekbones and a deeper pink glistened on his lips. He strode back to his room; wearing nothing but his birthday suit and shut the door.

He carefully smoothed on gold body-glitter lotion to polish his frame. Over that went the new, emerald green, silk g-string he had bought that afternoon and the metallic, low riding leather pants he had purchased to go with it. A bright green and gold fishnet crop top joined the ensemble and a gold and emerald, ankle-length, silk duster. He slipped on a pair of tan, ankle-high, cuffed leather boots. A gold hoop with a half-carat emerald drop in the center adorned his ear. And to finish the whole look, he put his green and gold sunglasses on and pushed them up on his head. He glowed from head to toe like some pagan god of lust.

After some serious deliberation, Yohji decided to leave Seven home. He didn't know what state he'd end up in and there was no way he would risk his or some poor innocent's life. Besides, Seven cost him a mint to buy and maintain and there was no way in hell he wanted to damage her. So, he called a cab. While waiting, he rejected the thought of leaving a note for the others. They didn't deserve any consideration from him. The gaping wound of their neglect threatened to darken what little joy he could find on this day and he squelched it brutally. There was no way he'd wreak a wonderful night with hurt feelings or bad karma. He stuffed another pack of cigarettes and his keys into the deep pockets of the duster and slid a good-sized wad of cash and his ID into the pockets of the skin-tight pants

When the cab arrived, he ghosted out of the shadows almost causing the driver to keel over from a heart attack. The trip went fast and they reached the club section of town in record time. The cabbie spent part of his trip drooling over his fare and the silent attention bolstered Yohji's flagging confidence. It amazed him how much his teammates' abandonment dragged on his soul and how a little interest strengthened it.

The low, pulsing beat of the music thrummed through the soles of his boots, straight up his legs and to his groin. Who was he kidding? Almost everything hit him below the belt. He paid the staring cabdriver and sauntered toward his favorite club, the Tropicana.

The line for the discotheque snaked around the block. Pretty girls and even prettier boys vied for the right to join the select few allowed into the rarefied air of the place. As he approached, one of the bouncers came back around the corner, zipping up his pants, with a very sweet-looking kid next to him. When the pair reached the red, velvet rope; the boy was passed through along with his friends.

"Still playing games I see, Joey," Yohji smirked.

"Kuduo," Joey said, giving him a big smile. "Long time no see, bro."

"Been kinda busy. So, what's it gonna cost to get me in?"

"Nothing, man. You know you've got a standing invitation."

"So, am I going to grow old waiting or are you going to let me in?"

Joey laughed and unhooked the rope, letting the gold and emerald man pass. "Have fun," he shouted at Yohji's back, "there's some exceptionally hot ones tonight!"

"I intend to," he shouted back as he vanished into the murky, smoke-filled depths of the club. Ahead of him writhing, nubile bodies gyrated to the pounding beat of the pseudo techno/metal music. The heavy bass settled into his blood, the beat of his heart kept tempo with the unrelenting rhythm.

He strode over to the bar and ordered a bottle of Jack Daniel's Black Label No. 7. The amber liquid glowed in the flashing, multi-colored lights from the dance floor. He could see couples dancing, their movements echoing a more primal activity. Depression landed on his shoulders with all four claws. Part of him still couldn't believe that the people he cared for the most forgot about his day.

With a heavy sigh he wolfed down half his bottle, the fire from the whiskey spread from his stomach into his extremities, leaving tingling warmth in their wake. The room spun with familiarity, the liquor doing its damage to his brain and inhibitions. After he found the bottom of his redeemer, his feet sought out the dance floor.

The dancing bodies were packed together so tightly that it was almost impossible to move about the lit, glass squares without bumping against another person. Yohji found himself dancing with a beautiful Asian boy, whose jaw-length hair had been dyed the most improbable color of plum. Hair aside, the bishounen wasn't hard on the senses with his high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes and lithe body. Their groins brushed together as they danced, arousing the taller man to a fever pitch. Someone pressed his hard member against Yohji's ass, the unyielding lump rubbing where the seam in his leather pants split his globes. A deep moan escaped the Eurasian's lips as a long fingered hand reached around him to cup his package

He could tell the man was a foreigner: his height made it obvious. Most of the writhing bodies on the dance floor only came up to his shoulder, all except the mysterious man rubbing his person against the tall assassin. Yohji leaned his head on the other man's shoulder and his lips were quickly devoured.

Silk over steel lips, flavored with the alcohol, overwhelmed his senses and flame-colored hair tickled his cheek. The fiery color was at the furthest end of the spectrum from Aya's cherry ice-pop locks. Maybe the broody redhead's hair matched his freezing personality. He ground against the steely rod of flesh pressing tightly along the seam of his leathers, moaning with every thrust of their bodies. The arousal grew larger with their grinding motion, threatening to split the other man's tight, body hugging jeans, the denim growing tighter with every movement.

The tall Eurasian found himself being dragged off the dance floor by one arm. Racing past the table where he left his duster, Yohji stopped long enough to grab the expensive coat and all its hidden treasures. The flame-tressed man, leading the way through the crowd, seemed vaguely familiar to the assassin, like he should know him.

Tight, black denim jeans followed the curves of a very well formed ass and a short, black toreador-style jacket hugged broad shoulders and accentuated the narrow waist. The abbreviated coat rode a tiny bit to show the nearly transparent, white silk shirt underneath. Flame-colored hair was held back from the man's face by a white bandana. The hair ornament gave the identity of his partner away.

"Schuldich," he murmured, knowing that the sadistic telepath from Schwarz would be able to hear any and all of his thoughts.

: Very good, Katzen: the man's voice echoed in the vaults of his head. : I didn't expect you to recognize me quite so quickly. I am impressed. You're not as dumb as we've been led to believe.:

"What's the old saying? Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see?" Yohji said, not bothering to shout over the pulsing music.

: Ah yes. Some American author said that, I believe.: The man looked at him with lust-filled eyes. : Now, are we going to end this little party here and now? Or do we go find somewhere more private and start taking each other apart?:

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am more than willing to call it a truce and then we can get back to more important things."

: Such as?:

"Finishing what you started on the dance floor." Yohji ground himself against the other man's leg, letting him revel in the reaction he had caused. "Right now the only thing I've got on my mind is a great lay. So, you interested?" He leaned into the wall, raised one long leg and wrapped it around the other man's waist; pulling him close enough that their groins rubbed together.

The redhead groaned and stroked his hand up and down the lean body cradling him. Quicker than a thought he snatched Yohji's wrist and dragged him from the building toward the convertible red sports car he owned. They paused, the taller man pinned the thin assassin against the cool metal of the vehicle and stripped his pants down. The golden leather peeled back, exposing molten gold skin and the emerald silk that protected his groin. With a wicked grin, Schuldich reached out and cupped the younger man's arousal through the fragile protection. The scent of patchouli, sandalwood and male musk perfumed the air.

"I can see that you're more than ready for me, Katzen," Schuldich smirked, continuing his demanding caress.

"Gods, Schu, please," he begged, grinding into the skilled touch. Precum darkened the front of his g-string and his legs threatened not to hold him. With supernatural speed and strength the Schwarz redhead picked him up and placed him on the hood of the car. The smooth, chilled paint cooled his overheated skin and played counterpoint to the searing, brutal fingers that split his ass. One long, dry finger forced its way inside his hidden pucker. The pain felt intense, but deep in his soul Yohji knew that this is the way he had always wanted his partners to be. Forceful, taking without asking and to hell with the pain and humiliation that he would feel. His hips bucked up to meet the thrusting intrusion. "Ah, yeah. Like that," he moaned.

"Like that do we, kitten?"

"Oh god! Yes. Please more," he groaned, relaxing against the probing digit.

"You're a slut, Kuduo," the German smirked. "A worthless little tramp, who'll do anything to get laid." The redhead shook his wild mane. "Whatever would your friends think if they knew about your tastes and desires?"

"The only one who'd care is Aya and he'd just glare at me and say, 'SHI NE!' and come after me with that damned katana of his."

"Are you so sure about that?" Schuldich asked. "I mean, these are the men that forgot your birthday, how well do you really know them? They don't seem to care all that much about you. You who have never forgotten a birthday or an important date or occasion, but enough about them, lets get back to the main event." He introduced another dry finger into Yohji's slightly blood-slicked passage.

The golden-haired beauty threw back his head and cried out in pain. Waves of pain and pleasure mingled, blurring the line between the two. Pain became pleasure and the pleasure was so intense that it hurt, the perfect blending of agony and paradise. So extreme were the sensations that the young assassin nearly shot his load right there.

Schuldich gave him a sadistic smile, reefed his fingers out of Yohji's ass and pulled a thick rubber ring from one of the pockets of his jacket. The grin became bigger as he slipped the cockring around the base of Yohji's cock and pulled up his pants, being careful of his oversensitive organ. "Can't have you shooting off before it's time, now can we?"

"Bastard!"

"That could well be," the redhead sneered, "Now get in the car." He pushed the younger man toward the passenger's side of the sports car. Yohji climbed in and fastened the seatbelt around his slim waist. The vehicle listed to one side as the other man climbed in and settled himself against the white leather seat. With a turn of the key, the powerful engine rumbled to life and the tires squealed as they tore out of the parking lot, barely pausing long enough to see if the traffic would allow them to leave.

Instead of heading toward the tired, battered row of love motels that lined one of the streets near the clubs, the car headed into the downtown area and the high-priced hotels that stood proudly watching over the busiest part of the city. Yohji smiled at the unconscious fastidiousness of his partner. The choice of spots for their bedroom games said a lot about the man sitting silently beside him.

He reached over and cupped the steely rod tenting Schuldich's jeans. With experienced fingers, he carefully unzipped them and felt inside the denim. Just as he thought, the mouthy German was going commando tonight: no room in those pants for anything as mundane as underwear or even a g-string. Yohji carefully eased Schuldich's cock from its cloth shelter and began to stroke his hand over the ever-hardening length. Drops of pre-cum oozed out of the tip, making his self-appointed task just a little bit easier.

With a sly grin, he undid the restrictive belt, leaned over and began licking the tip of Schuldich's cock. The redhead inhaled sharply and the car swerved. The next swipe of his tongue was greeted with a low, guttural growl and fingers in his hair, holding his head in place. With that sign of approval, Yohji wrapped his mouth around the throbbing appendage and began sucking, taking it deeper and deeper until it slid down his throat. The salty/sweet flavor leaking out of the tip tasted like ambrosia and spurred him to greater heights of oral gratification.

"Gods, Kuduo! You keep this up and we won't make it to the hotel," Schuldich growled. "As a matter of fact if you don't stop now, we won't be getting anywhere in one piece." He pulled back on the golden brown locks in his hand. "Did you hear me? I said stop!"

Yohji pulled back, tucked the swollen cock back into its denim cradle and smiled up at the owner. "Paybacks are a bitch, aren't they?"

"Goddamn, Yohji! What the fuck are you trying to do? Get us killed?"

"I take it you liked it," he smirked. "Now we're even."

The flame-tressed man chuckled at his latest lover. "Remind me not to really piss you off," he commented, risking a quick glance into ancient emerald eyes. "You and I are more alike than I thought. Neither of us can stand to lose and we're not afraid to use sex as a weapon. I think I'm going to like being with you."

"Let's not start talking about the future," the younger man sadly said. "We're from two different worlds and it'll be hard to overcome that. So, let's just enjoy what we've got tonight and let tomorrow come in its own time. Now is the time for wild sex. Let's see if we can get kicked out of the fancy hotel room you're going to rent."

"Agreed. I don't think there's much we can do to get tossed out of the place I'm taking you," he leered. "They charge a mint, but don't care what you do as long as it doesn't spill into the hallway."

"Good, that'll give me something to strive for." Bright white teeth glinted in the passing gleam from the streetlights.

The car pulled up in front of the Tokyo Hilton and a red-coated valet stepped out and opened the door for Yohji to get out. He smiled in appreciation at the sight of the young assassin's rumpled clothing and smeared makeup. Yohji gave him a wicked half-grin while looking at him over the top of his sunglasses, smoky green eyes peering up through thick lashes.

"See something you like?" he asked the drooling employee.

"I … ah–"

"Katzen, cummin Sie heir," Schuldich's voice whipped out as he snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot on the pavement right next to him.

"Yes, sir," he answered, stepping over to the indicated spot. "What would my master like?"

"Behave Yohji and no more tormenting the staff, understood?"

"Of course, Master." He took one of the telepath's fingers and began to gently suck and nibble on it. "You're the boss."

The groaning redhead wrapped an arm around the slender waist of the man beside him and walked the two of them into the vaulted opulence of the hotel lobby. He fumbled with his back pocket, looking for the card key he had placed there before leaving for his night of hunting. Why the kitten had drawn him, he couldn't tell. Maybe it was the notion of danger either from Yohji himself or from the homicidal maniac who was considered the leader of Weiss. The mere thought of Aya Fujimiya raised gooseflesh on his back. Crawford, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy fantasizing about crushing the ice prince's cool façade under his feet and totally demoralizing the aloof man.

The pair reached the elevators and Schuldich slipped his room key into the slot in order to reach the top floors of the building. The mirrored doors slid quietly closed, leaving the two of them in their own world. Yohji gave the taller redhead a wicked smile and then began to lick and kiss his lips. The older man pulled the lithe figure against him and commenced to devour his sweet mouth. The smooth, upwards motion of the car went unnoticed by the pair, until the cabin came to a halt and an elderly man and his wife started to step through the open doors.

"Sorry, this car is full," Schuldich snapped at the amazed pair and none too gently pushed them out. The shocked looks on their wrinkled faces started Yohji giggling and the mere thought of their expressions if he and his partner had been more involved forced a true bout of laughter.

Schuldich cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

The laughing man tried to explain, but his mirth slurred his words so that they were totally unintelligible. His giggling came to an abrupt halt as the German reclaimed his mouth, the kisses becoming rougher and more demanding. Pale, long, strong fingers worked their way into the tight waistband of Yohji's pants, pinching and stroking the golden skin found there. The button of the white assassin's pants popped off with a resounding clank as it ricocheted off the walls of the elevator. The loud ding of the car reaching its destination broke the two lust-filled men apart. With minimal straightening of clothing they stepped from the cabin and into the penthouse hallway. Only two rooms occupied this floor, one was empty and the other the dark assassin had rented for his liaisons this night.

"Well, Katzen, are you brave enough to bell the dog in his own lair?" he asked the emerald and gold man standing beside him. Yohji answered with a deep, shameless kiss. "Very good. Now let's go in and make the best of the time we have, nein?" He claimed the beauty's lips and the two of them fell through the door that he opened.

The opulence of the room went unnoticed as the two partners struggled for dominance in the age-old dance of power. Tongues wrestled and swirled, fighting for control of the kisses. Their mouths broke apart long enough for constricting clothing to be removed and panting breaths to be taken. Soon, all restrictions were eliminated. Hands, tongues, lips and teeth slid over bare skin, tasting, nipping, licking and exploring.

Yohji found his legs against the barn-sized bed that took up most of the space in the bedroom. The generic hotel bedspread and snowy-white sheets had been pulled back and neatly folded at the foot of the bed and two pieces of 'designer' chocolate had been placed on each of the pillows. A complimentary bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice on one of the bedside tables with two crystal champagne flutes. The glasses caught the light and shone a prism on the wallpaper and the white of the sheets.

Schuldich pushed the younger man down on the bed, then stood there admiring his chosen fare for the night. The stark white of the sheets accented the leggy blonde's natural color, making him look like a statue of gold. His warmly colored hair spilled out behind him and the darker blonde of the curls surrounding his manhood worked to compliment the beauty of his body. Long, lean, lithely muscled legs seemed to stretch on forever and wide, mischievous, emerald, lust-filled eyes looked up at him, challenging him to do his worst.

Yohji placed his feet flat on the bed, spreading his legs so that the German could see all that he was getting. He drew his knees up toward his chest, exposing his hidden pucker. He could hear the low growl of passion from Schuldich and the sound rumbled down Yohji spine, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. He gently grasped his own turgid, blushing flesh, using the pre-cum to lubricate the motions of his hand as he stroked his fist up and down. His hand was brutally removed from where it pleasured him. A silk scarf tied the offending appendage to the bed frame. His other hand soon joined the first one, leaving him defenseless in the presence of his enemy. The only thing the flame-haired man didn't remove from his possession was his watch, the one containing his wire. Somehow it made him feel better to know that if worst came to worst, he would have some protection and an escape route from the binding scarves.

The German gave him an evil grin, reaching into one of the drawers in the bedside stand and removing something that the white assassin couldn't see. The low hum of a vibrator filled in the empty spaces between panted breaths. He carefully lubed up the toy and pressed it against the fragile skin between Yohji's balls and ass, hitting his sweet spot from the outside. The blonde's hips rocketed off the bed as the stimulation sent his sex drive into overdrive. Holding the toy in place, the devious redhead slipped one well-lubed finger into his hidden opening.

Yohji moaned, riding the intruding finger for all he was worth, pleading the whole time for more. A second finger joined the first and then a third. With each additional finger, the golden man's groans became louder and his hips worked harder, trying to draw the digits deeper into his body. A fourth finger joined its brothers in his body and he cried out in pain and pleasure. Then all of them were removed, leaving him feeling devoid and abandoned. And the external stimulation ended, just as he reached the pinnacle of completion. His body hummed with need, the gates of paradise were so close, and he could almost touch them. And the damned cockring still rested at the base of his organ.

"Not yet, Katzen," came the nasally, slightly accented voice. "You don't get to go all the way until I do." The German positioned himself between Yohji's golden thighs and thrust his cock in all the way to the hilt. The Eurasian's hips moved to accommodate the latest intrusion. Then his legs crept up his body and wrapped loosely around the German's neck, allowing him greater access to the beautiful form beneath him.

Yohji could feel every breath expelled from Schuldich's mouth as it caressed his weeping cock. The cool air stimulated his overly sensitive organ to the point of pain and he shuddered in reaction.

Gods, Yohji screamed in his head. This is beyond orgasmic. A low chuckle rumbled through the older man, vibrating both conjoined bodies. Yohji looked up at him and gave him a wicked, ravenous grin showing Schuldich his freed hands; the scarves were nothing to a man of his talents.

Slowly he pulled his body off the bed, just using the muscles in his belly and chest. When he reached the pinnacle of his arc, he threw his arms around the flame-tressed man and took control of their mating. With the darkened room and his eyes being partially closed, he could almost pretend that Aya held him.

Where the hell did that one come from? he wondered, his wits more than a little shaken at that random thought.

: No imaginary lovers allowed here, Katzen.: Schuldich's voice slapped him back to reality. : Fujimiya's not here. And I highly doubt that he would be truly able to enjoy your glorious body. Now get ready for the grand finale…:

Yohji quivered with emotion as he felt Schuldich's climax starting to roar through the telepath's mind. The tsunami of feelings swept over him and pulled him into the bright sea of completion. The world went blank, turning into a glorious, empty, white sphere of nothingness. There were no assassins, no Weiss, no Schwarz, nothing: just the feelings of connected bodies, synchronized breaths and the scent of sex. Then, his body realized that it still hadn't been allowed to reach its own release.

"Gods, Schu!" he groaned, bringing his hands around to free his swollen member. They were grabbed before they could finish their work.

"Uh ah, Katzen. We're not finished with you yet." Schuldich said, his voice slightly breathy but recovering. "Let's see how we can torture the poor kitten more, eh?"

"Don't be a bastard, Schu!" he pleaded. "Please just let me finish. If you don't, it's going to explode and then I won't be any good to the team."

"That might not be such a bad idea, Kuduo. You know that your little trick really put Crawford's nose out of joint. Although, it's probably a good thing to keep the damned American on his toes, either that or he becomes an unbearably smug prick." He grinned down at his captive audience. "I love it when Fujimiya gets the better of him, it's just lovely to see him trying to decide if he's going to be pissed or pounce on the object of his desire."

"Schuldich, PLEASE!" he cried, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. "Gods it hurts!"

"Are we feeling a little pain, Katzen?"

"Bastard! You know I am! PLEASE let me CUM!" he begged.

"Well, since you remembered to use the magic word," the flame-tressed torturer said, removing the ring and devouring Yohji's cock. The Eurasian thrust a couple of times and then came with a window-rattling scream. When he regained consciousness he sat up and gently kissed his partner.

"The sun's coming up," Yohji said, looking out at the soft light of the false dawn. "I'd better go before Aya has a shitfit or Omi begins to worry."

"And I need to get some sleep before it's time to check out." Schuldich gave him a secret grin. "We'll have to do this again, eh Katzen?"

"Definitely," he murmured, returning the grin. "Maybe next time we can do it at my place." Yohji's eyes glimmered with mischief. "Of course, in order to do that you'd have to have a death wish. For some reason, Aya just wouldn't appreciate your more esoteric talents and might react in a generally inappropriate manner. I can just see it now, you and I in the most compromising of positions and him racing into my room, katana drawn, screaming Shi Ne at the top of his lungs. Wouldn't that be just a sight?"

Schuldich chuckled at the image Yohji drew for him. For some reason, being with the golden man felt, if not right, then like something he could very easily get used to. Under that intense, White Knight attitude, a real person resided. A real, charming, sexual person who felt just as lonely in his little group as the telepath felt in his. Watching Yohji dress, Schuldich couldn't help but hope. Maybe the time would come when the two groups were no longer at odds and then that would be the time for them. Yeah, and one day pigs will fly without airplanes, he thought, cynically.

"Katzen, here," he said, holding out a wad of bills. "This should pay your cab fare back to where you and the other kittens are hiding." He drew the golden man down for a passionate kiss. "I'll see you when I see you, Kuduo. Be good and I hope that I helped to brighten your birthday." He got up off the bed and walked the other man to the door of the room, arm wrapped loosely around his narrow waist. At the entryway, they shared their final kiss for the night . . . . . . .

Yohji came, hot semen spattering over his hand and belly. He relaxed into the softness of his mattress, knowing that he would regret the excesses of tonight but reveling in them for the time being.

He had had the cabbie stop at a liquor store near the hotel; he bought another fifth of Jack and guzzled it down on his way back to the Koneko. Somehow he knew that he'd need the alcoholic buffer in order to deal with whoever might be awake when he returned. He had really hoped that it would be Omi waiting in the early morning darkness for him, but somehow he knew that Aya would be the one waiting up. The man just couldn't wait to ream Yohji a new one. As a matter of fact, he seemed to spend a lot of time watching what he did and where he went. That could make getting together with Schuldich a major pain in the ass. Well, cross that one when it comes up, he thought, drifting off to sleep.

Woman you're tougher than leather,

You make it hard on me.

We got problems, baby that's okay,

'Cause I'm still lovin' you anyway.

If we put down our weapons for just one night,

Maybe we can make it right,

But we just fight.

I've tried to hold steady,
Tried to give it one more chance,
It's the same old song playing on and on,
And I don't wanna dance!

Omi came downstairs to find Aya staring intently at the calendar that usually hung near the phone in the living area. The man's serious expression and wrinkled brow were almost funny in their intensity.

"Aya?" he chirped, coming over to where the red-haired man sat. "What's bothering you?"

"Omi," he said, quietly. "Do you know why yesterday's date is circled in green ink? Is this something that Yohji did or did you do it?"

The youngest member of Weiss grabbed the chart from him. "Oh shit!" he cursed. "Please tell me that we didn't!" He gave Aya a very severe look. "How did Yohji seem when he got home this morning?"

"Drunk, but what's new about that?"

"Did he seem depressed or down?"

"Not that I could see." He glared at the younger man. "Would you be so kind as to tell me why the hell you're getting so bent about a date?"

"Aya, you're so dense," Omi sighed. "Yesterday was Yohji's birthday and we all forgot it. No wonder he seemed so out of it when I got back from school. Looks like we're going to have to find a way to make it up to him, eh?"

"He seemed just fine. Came in smelling like booze and sex," he scoffed. "Don't see that our missing his birthday did him any harm. Just gave him another excuse to go out and party. Besides, he didn't mention it to anyone. I bet he just wanted a reason to go out drinking and carousing." The jealousy in Aya's voice nearly made Omi giggle. For someone so intent on his own undertaking, he appeared to be giving a lot of attention to Yohji. There might be hope for the cold redhead after all.

"You could be right, Aya, but I have no intention of allowing a rift to form in this group over something like a missed birthday. Besides, he never misses our birthdays. Why just last year he hired a prostitute for yours, remember?"

Aya blushed. "How could I forget?" he grumbled. "I don't see why he felt like he needed to embarrass me like that. It's not like I have time to carry on like he does." He caught Omi's skeptical look. "What? It's not like I'm jealous of him or anything. He needs to learn to be more responsible to the group and not spend nights carousing and carrying on!"

Not jealous? Omi thought. Yeah right and I'm the pope. If you get any more envious of our Yohji you'll start looking like a leprechaun. "Whatever Aya. Now go wake Ken-ken and we'll start planning Yotan's belated birthday."

Nature screaming in his ear woke Yohji. He stumbled to the bathroom and took care of the urgent need and then just sat on the toilet. The room spun and his stomach started to do gymnastics and threatened to jump out of his throat. He pressed his face against the cool tile that coated the wall, the chilled ceramic soothing his pounding head. He started to doze off as the pain receded and caught himself just as he started sliding off the porcelain throne. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he staggered to the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go.

I'll probably run out of hot before too long, he grumbled to himself. But it'll feel good for as long as it lasts. Ken no doubtedly used ever bit of hot water that we have. Him and his four showers a day.

When the water stayed at the proper temperature he sighed with gratitude and wonder. He wrapped a towel around his narrow hips and wandered from the bathroom into the cool, dark cavern that he called a bedroom and began to carefully dress. Properly dressed and feeling brave enough to possibly face food, he meandered down the stairs to the shared rooms, making sure his sunglasses were well placed on his face. The scent of cinnamon drifted up and tickled his nose. His stomach growled in response to the wonderful aromas permeating the air.

"Good afternoon, Yohji," Omi said, looking up from one of his ever-present schoolbooks.

"Hey, Chibi! How's tricks?" He smiled at youngest member of the team. Afternoon? What they let me oversleep for a change?

"Things are going really good." Omi looked at him very seriously. "Yohji, I'm sorry that we forgot your birthday. Why didn't you say anything? You didn't even try to remind us." The little blonde stuck his bottom lip out at the taller man. "And then you disappeared for an entire night. I mean, you've gone out clubbing before, but never until dawn and definitely not without one of us knowing where you were." His pout transformed into a glare. "Now, I'm going to sound a bit like Aya, but next time please leave us a note. We don't want anything to happen to you. You're an important part of this team and we couldn't do what we needed to if you weren't here. There, now I'm done with the lecture and we can get on to bigger and better things."

Yohji threw his head back and laughed. The boy's chirping cheerful reprimand nudged his conscience. What he did in a moment of pique could have put them all in a lot of danger and his bed partner would in all probability betray him and use the information that he managed to steal from the Eurasian's mind against the rest of the team. "I promise I won't do it again, Omittchi. Thanks for not being Aya."

"It's all good, Yotan. Now why don't you come over here and eat some of the food that we all chipped in for? We got all your favorites and managed to talk Ken-ken out of cooking. Aya and I decided that you really wouldn't appreciate being woken up by the fire department . . . . . again."

"Thanks Chibi." He drifted over to the food. Octopus sushi rested on ice, keeping it fresh. Coffee cake steamed, the pastry redolent with the odor of cinnamon, nutmeg and mace; its crumb topping begged to be tasted. A pot of his much loved Italian blend coffee called his name from the maker and a healthy helping of stir-fry released its ginger and lemon perfume into the air. His stomach growled, loudly, eliciting a giggle from the boy. "Looks like you guys really did go overboard here. I hope that this stuff hasn't been sitting here all day."

"Nope, the sushi and stir-fry were in the fridge, the coffee I had ready to brew and the coffee cake went into the oven when I heard you moving around upstairs. There are a few uses for thin walls and floors. Aya and Ken should be back in a few. They've already eaten, so dig in. The party will begin as soon as all of Weiss are together."

Without a second thought, Yohji attacked the food. For some reason, his hangover wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe the fact that he had been able to sleep the effects of the alcohol off had something to do with it. Or just the knowledge that his family had gone out of their way to make up for the fact that they forgot his birthday helped with the illness. Or it could be a night of sexual promiscuity could cure a hangover. He didn't have too much time to ruminate on the reasons for his lack of headache and other symptoms - Ken and Aya strode into the room; their arms filled with wrapped packages.

"Happy belated birthday, Yohji," Ken sang, dropping his load into the surprised man's lap. "Hope there are many more!"

"Happy birthday," Aya growled at him. "Next time just tell us what's eating you. Unlike Mastermind, none of us has telepathy."

The tall man jerked at the mention of Schwarz's sexpot, hoping that the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks would be put down as embarrassment for the gifts and not guilt. "Thanks, guys," he said, setting his chopsticks down and starting in on the gifts.

The sound you hear is the knife cut,

Switchblade serenade.

The sound you hear is the knife cut,

Switchblade serenade.