© 2006 Jet Mykles for the story. The characters however are not mine. Click here for more info on these beautiful kitties. Or check out the Bishonenworks WK gallery, which is where my obsession began.
Authors note: This is a continuation of a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.
Please note that this fic falls AFTER my Night Out fic.
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– SUSPICIOUS DATA –
Ken was warm and happy. Happier than he’d been for a long time. Content. He snuggled down closer into the body he was wrapped around. Smaller, but firmly packed in all the right places.
Ken smiled. Omi.
He nuzzled the younger man’s neck, letting Omi’s sweet, vanilla smell lull him back to sleep. Omi wiggled back into the bend of Ken’s body, pressing that sweet little ass against…
Now Ken was awake. His eyes snapped open, immediately full of the blurry vision of hair streaked three different shades of blond and soft neck. Wondering if Omi was fully awake, he let one of his hands trail down a smoothly muscled chest. He’d just check to see if Omi had morning wood.
Omi hummed and wiggled again when Ken’s exploration found a semi-hard cock.
Ken smiled and set to wake the blond up further. Perhaps this morning they could try what they’d never gotten to the previous night. Just the thought of being inside Omi had Ken hard as a rock. He pressed the length of his erection against the crack of Omi’s ass, mind whirling with possibilities.
“Oh shit!”
Instinct drove Ken to his knees when Omi shot up. Even without the bugnuks, Ken’s fists were ready for the danger that Omi had sensed.
Except there wasn’t any. Omi scrambled out of bed, grabbed the jeans that had been discarded on the floor the night before and practically jumped into them.
“Uh, Omi…” Ken’s heart clenched. Was Omi upset about what had happened last night? “What’s wrong?”
Jeans on but unbuttoned, Omi dropped to his knees before Ken on the mattress. Quickly, he framed the brunet’s face with his hands an planted a firm kiss on his lips. He pulled back and grinned. “I forgot to send the mission report last night.” With that, he was up and off the bed, fastening his jeans as he raced out the door.
Oh. That was okay then. Relieved, Ken sank back onto the bed—Omi’s bed—and stared up at the ceiling. A quick glance told him that it was 5 AM. The start of a new day. A day after sleeping with Omi. Well, mostly.
–*–
Yohji woke halfway at the sound of Omi rushing from his room. Both he and Aya tensed. No call of alarm was sounded and no Omi slid into the room to warn them of intruders.
Aya relaxed first, sinking back into the pillows and shutting his eyes.
A split second later, Yohji followed his example and lay his head back down on the back of Aya’s shoulder. The redhead was warm, his skin was amazingly soft, the bed was inviting and the sex from the previous night had completely worn Yohji out. Plus
it was to fucking early. He was more than content to go back to sleep.
–*–
Ken woke from a doze at 8 AM. He was still alone in Omi’s room. What the hell?
He got out of bed and put his shorts on. The t-shirt he pulled on as he quietly exited the room. He paused, glancing across the hall at Yohji’s closed door then down the hall at Aya’s cracked door. They must be together.
A small pang of jealousy propelled Ken down the stairs to find his own company.
Predictably, Omi perched before laptop he had setup on the desk in the corner of the main room downstairs. He sent a guilty look Ken’s way when Ken rounded through the door. “Sorry, Ken. I got distracted.”
Ken ran a hand through his hair. “That’s okay. Something wrong?”
Omi frowned. “I don’t think so but…”
“’But’?”
“That data we took last night is kind of weird.”
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. It’s encoded and really vague. But something about it…”
Ken had to smile. Omi looked so damn cute, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared at the computer screen. The blue cast of the screen in a partially lit room made his skin look like porcelain, except for the lip, red where he’d been chewing. Those long,
slim fingers flew over the keyboard.
Ken crossed the room and stood behind Omi’s chair. Quite deliberately, he leaned in to kiss Omi’s bare shoulder.
The fingers on the keyboard stalled.
“Did you send the data to Krittiker?” he murmured over smooth skin.
“Yes.”
He smiled at Omi’s breathless tone. “That’s all you were supposed to do.” He slid a hand into Omi’s hair and used it to tilt his head to the side, exposing more neck to nuzzle. “Let Krittiker take care of the rest.”
“But…”
Ken tasted the soft skin just behind Omi’s ear. He traced the fragile curve of that ear with his tongue. “Turn off the laptop, Omi.”
“Huh?”
He laughed and took it upon himself to lean in and reach forward toward the mouse.
Omi figured out what he was doing and snatched it away before he could close anything. “Wait! Hold on.”
Ken grinned. If Omi was doing research for a mission, Ken was sure he wouldn’t be doing this. But since the mission was over, all was fair. He straightened, grabbed the back of the chair and pulled.
Omi yelped, clutching the seat of the straight-backed chair as Ken turned it a quarter circle. “Ken, what are you…?”
Ken dropped to his knees, hands on Omi’s knees to spread them so he could wedge closer. Willing his smile to be seductive, he slid his arms around Omi’s waist and pulled him forward.
Omi’s surprise melded into a warm, smile that made Ken’s heart ache. Slim arms lifted to surround Ken’s neck, clever fingers spearing through his hair.
Their lips met in a kiss full of promise. A certainty that the previous night hadn’t been a one-off thing. Ken knew, from this kiss, that Omi did really want him. He moaned, sucking Omi’s tongue into his mouth, swallowing the taste of him as he slid his hands over Omi’s smooth, bare back. How had he missed doing this for years? Well, okay, the last year that Omi was legal.
Impatient with desire, Ken pulled his hands between them and tugged at the button holding Omi’s jeans closed. He wanted to taste more of Omi, a particular part of Omi. As he recalled, that part tasted really good. A taste he could grow addicted to.
Omi’s slim hand landed on his, squeezing his fingers before he could properly get them inside of the fly. “Wait, Ken,” he gasped against Ken’s lips, “we shouldn’t do this.”
Ken dropped his mouth to kiss the flesh over Omi’s rapidly beating heart, trying to shake Omi’s hold on his hands. “Why not?”
“Yohji and Aya…”
Ken froze. “Oh yeah.” He sat down on his heels, grimacing. “Right.”
Omi laughed softly. He bent down to catch Ken’s face with both hands, turning it up toward him. His blue eyes shone with affection. Love? “I don’t care if they know, Kenken, but I don’t think they need to see.”
Ken matched his grin, rising up closer to that beautiful face. “We could go back to your room.”
Omi rubbed the tip of his nose on Ken’s. “Good idea. Just let me…”
Ken tilted his head and pushed in, having to taste those lips again. Omi sighed into the kiss, eagerly playing tongue-tag with Ken. His slim, strong legs wrapped loosely around Ken, ankles hooking around his knees.
“How utterly sweet.”
They froze, both pairs of eyes going wide and staring at each other at the sound of the third voice. A terribly familiar voice.
“I told you, Yohji,” said a fourth voice, also quite familiar.
Slowly, Ken and Omi turned to see Yohji and Aya lounging in the doorway, each leaning a shoulder against a side of the doorjamb. Loose drawstring pants nearly fell from Yohji’s slim hips and a green robe—Yohji’s robe—embraced Aya’s lean frame,
a gaping V in front exposing his pale chest.
Yohji’s grin was wide enough to split his face. “I’m so proud of you, Ken.”
Ken felt the blush flame his face. He pulled away from Omi, sitting back on his heels. “Fuck you, Yohji,” he grumbled.
The tall assassin laughed. “How rude. To say such thing in the arms of your lover. Pay him no mind, Omi.”
“Stop it, Yohji,” Omi muttered.
Ken glanced up to see Omi wearing a matching blush as he turned back to the laptop.
Ken grimaced, hopping to his feet. “Yeah, knock it off, Yohji.”
Yohji opened his mouth but stopped when Aya hooked a hand around his elbow and tugged. “Come, Yotan. Let’s eat.”
“But I’d rather…”
“Oh shit!”
All levity died at the tone in Omi’s voice. Ken spun toward the youngest assassin. The two in the doorway sped toward them.
“What is it?” Aya demanded.
Omi’s hands flew over the keyboard as his three teammates leaned over his shoulder. “It’s us! This data is all about us.” He pointed at the screen. Most of what was there was encoded gibberish, but when he pointed it out they could see the bits and pieces. “It’s mostly medical and psychological reports, I think, but I finally saw names.” His finger indicated Fujimiya, Hidaka and Kudoh in different places across the screen. The only reference he could find to himself was a Takatori. quot;Why is this about us?”
Ken looked at Aya. “Who were the targets last night?”
Aya shook his head, red hair brushing the shoulders of the robe. “No target. It was a normal office building. An assessor’s office.”
“A cover,” Yohji declared, eyes still on the laptop. “Is there any information about our location?”
“No,” Omi confirmed. “Well, not that I see. But there’s a lot that I haven’t decoded. So far there’s nothing to even indicate that we’re still alive. Just a lot of data.” He shook his head. “What does it mean?”
Yohji’s head snapped up and he met Aya’s gaze. Ken watched them as they seemed to share a thought.
Aya finally nodded. “We need to get out of here.”