Weiss Part 2

[cleflink]

Title: Rain Making (working title - any ideas anyone?)
Part: 2/3
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: KenxOC, maybe KenxYohji if you squint
Warnings: severely messed up bad guys, attempted NCS, blood and violence, angst (it's Weiss - do you expect anything less?)
Disclaimer: Not mine - I just perv  ;P

Not worksafe. PG-13 for sexual situations and blood-kink. Lime.

Onto the sex!

The Weiss boys are after a killer, and they're using one of their own as bait.

“…and then Toji shot from centre field and missed the net by barely two inches! Two inches! It was incredible!”

Seiichi grinned, the expression making him look much younger. “Sounds it. I’m sorry I missed that game. Did you see the one against Nagasaki on Friday?”

“Missed it,” Ken admitted regretfully as the limo pulled up in the driveway of a large house. They got out quickly and made a dash for the door in the downpour. “I taped it but I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet.”

“It was a good game.” A man in a black suit was waiting for them when they arrived at the house, he glanced dismissively at Ken before stretching the door wide to reveal a dimly lit hallway. “Don’t mind him,” Seiichi told him, leading the way inside. “He’s just my butler.”

“Your…” Whatever Ken had been about to say was lost as the lights clicked on and he took in the massive interior of the house. Though most of his awe was an act to keep in character, Ken admitted to himself that the grandeur of the front hall exceeded even his estimates of Yamagata’s wealth. Maybe this guy was into more shit than they thought.

“It’s not much,” Seiichi said depreciatingly, obviously enjoying Ken’s surprise. “But it suits me.” He looked over at the brunette, noting the goosebumps that ran up tanned arms and how he shivered in his soaked clothing. “It’s time for you to get out of those wet clothes and into something dry,” he declared. “Or you’ll catch your death of cold. Did you have a change of clothes with you?”

Ken shook his head, his fist tightening reflexively around the strap of his duffel bag. “Just a couple towels and another pair of socks. My soccer ball and water bottles take up most of the space and I didn’t expect to be caught in the rain.” He made a face. “Not to mention that everything is probably just as wet as I am now.”

“No matter.” Seiichi clapped his hands and the man from the door appeared at his side. “Take him to the guest room and find something else for him to wear,” he instructed. He glanced at Ken apologetically. “I’m not sure how well anything I have will fit, but it’s better than being wet, right?”

Ken nodded, water dripping off of the ends of his brown hair. “Absolutely. Thank you for going to all this trouble.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s my pleasure Ken. Go get changed and I’ll meet you in the den. I have a big screen TV in there that’s great for watching games on.”

Smiling as he was expected to, Ken nodded again and followed the ‘butler’ up the stairs to the dark upper level of the house. His duffel bag thumped quietly against his leg, the only sound in the unnaturally quiet building. Brown eyes darted covertly from side to side, but were unable to spot any security personnel or even any cameras. He knew from Kritiker’s intelligence report that there were at least 30 cameras in the house, but wherever they were they were well hidden. A determined expression flitted briefly across his face as he climbed resolutely up the stairs. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, after all.

*We’re coming up towards the house now* Omi’s voice crackled suddenly in his ear, sounding horribly loud in the silence. Ken glanced over at the butler – who was much larger than any normal butler would ever have a right to be – but the big man didn’t appear to notice the noise. Which was just as well or else this would be a painfully short mission.

*Verify Siberian* ordered Omi through the micro-transmitter in Ken’s left ear. About the size of a watch battery, it rested so deep in his ear canal that it could only be removed with a q-tip and was well suited to keeping him up to date on the status of the mission. Though not quite as powerful as the headsets they usually wore, the transmitter was strong enough to pick up a signal from almost an hour’s ride away. As long as no one stood close enough to pick up the faint buzzing of Omi’s voice, it was virtually undetectable. He hoped.

Shifting his bag to the other hand, Ken surreptitiously tapped three times on his wristwatch, the pressure sensor inside relaying the message back to the others. <Wait for signal.> A moment later a fuzzy, *Confirmed* acknowledged Omi’s reception of the message and the line went quiet. Feeling more confident now that he knew everything was progressing according to plan, Ken allowed his attention to drift to the hallway he was passing through.

He had to admit that it was a very nice house. Even in the dark, it looked to be tastefully decorated and gave off a decidedly homey feel. Family photographs and heirlooms lined the peach coloured walls and, try as he might, Ken couldn’t detect any sense of malice anywhere around him. It unnerved him quite a bit.

‘This guy appears to be the perfect family man,’ he mused to himself, looking at a picture of Yamagata and two young boys dressed to go fishing at the lake. ‘He totally doesn’t seem the type to go in for fraud and sadism.’

It wasn’t that he was questioning Kritiker or Persia, exactly. Ken had learned the hard way that appearances were often highly deceiving, but he just couldn’t reconcile this Yamagata with the one who’s dossier he had been studying for the last three days. He almost hoped that Yamagata would tip his hand soon, it was hard to justify killing someone who didn’t seem to deserve it.

“Here we are,” the butler said suddenly, shocking Ken out of his reverie. The tall man turned to look at Ken, his countenance calmly professional. “There are towels in the bathroom for you to dry off with, you are also welcome to use the shower if you so desire. I will leave some clothes on the bed for you to wear and, if you leave your own clothing, I will have it washed for you by the maid.”

“That’s quite alr…” Ken began, but the man opened the door and entered the room before he had a chance to get any further. His senses on alert for anything out of the ordinary, Ken followed him, careful not to let the door swing shut behind him.

The guest room was as comfortable as the rest of the house, lit by a bright lamp next to the bed and stylishly decorated in shades of blue and grey. The butler had his back to him as he looked through the closet, presumably for something for Ken to wear, and pointed wordlessly at another door to the left as Ken walked in. Suddenly acutely aware of how much water he was dripping on the floor, Ken hastily entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Setting down his bag, Ken looked around the small bathroom briefly. He wasn’t particularly surprised that he couldn’t see any cameras. Obviously he’d have to stay in character for this whole mission, since it was impossible to know whether he was being watched or not.

Deciding against a shower for several fairly obvious reasons, Ken instead grabbed a fluffy white towel off of the rack next to the door. Running it vigorously through his hair to get the most of the water off, Ken left it hanging around his neck as he went to work divesting himself of his soaked clothing. Everything was ridiculously wet, leaving his skin feeling cold and clammy even after it was all in a sodden pile on the floor. Feeling horribly self-conscious, he dried himself off quickly with another towel then wrapped it tightly around his waist.

Gathering his courage, one hand firmly holding onto his towel, Ken opened the bathroom door and looked out. The butler was gone and, true to his word, a set of neatly folded clothing was waiting on the quilted coverlet. Ken’s bare feet padded silently across the carpeted floor to the bed, where he set his bag down with a soft thump. Still holding his towel, Ken picked up the shirt off the bed with one hand to examine it. It was a dark royal blue in colour, and buttoned down the front like a dress shirt. Glancing at the matching pants, Ken presumed it was probably a pair of pyjamas.

Unbuttoning the shirt, Ken pulled it on. The fabric was soft and silky smooth, feeling glorious against his bare skin in a welcome change from his wet soccer jersey. The shirt was a bit too big for him, a rather odd occurrence since Yamagata wasn’t a very large man, the slithery material sliding off of one shoulder and the cuffs hanging down over his hands to the tips of his fingers. After buttoning every one of the buttons, Ken reluctantly let go of his towel and reached quickly for the pants.

The butler hadn’t left any underwear out for him and, now that he was dry, Ken couldn’t bring himself to put his own soaked pair back on. He supposed there wasn’t much point in being physically uncomfortable for the rest of the night, especially since, if Yamagata got that far, underwear wouldn’t matter much anyway. However, it was still with a fair degree of reluctance that Ken finally pulled on the pyjama bottoms straight on over his skin. Like the shirt they were rather too big, the waist hanging low on his hips below his bellybutton - the drawstring belt serving only to make the fabric bunch and gap around his stomach - and the bottoms dragging on the floor behind him. He rolled them several times to keep from tripping.

Leaving the towel on the bed, Ken crouched down to unzip his bag and pull out the other pair of socks. Thankfully they were still mostly dry, and he drew them on quickly, glad for the extra warmth for his cold feet.

Zipping the bag up again, Ken left it beside the bed and headed over to the door, sparing a moment to send a quick message to Omi. <Five minutes. Wait for signal.> When he opened the door, the butler was standing in the hallway waiting for him. The man nodded stiffly and turned to lead the way down the hall. Pulling the door shut behind him, Ken wordlessly followed along behind, one hand clenched around the extra fabric of the trousers.

In a matter of dreadfully short minutes, the butler halted in front of one of the doors in a hallway off of the main foyer. Feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline brought on by a mission slightly tinged with apprehension, Ken forced himself to remain calm as the butler knocked respectfully on the polished wooden surface. He held his breath as a muffled ‘enter’ came from the other side of the door and the butler obediently turned the shiny brass knob, the door swinging inward with a slight creak of rusty hinges. His heart beating in a rapid staccato, it mirrored the urgent message he tapped on his watch before letting his arms fall.

The butler turned, motioning him through the doorway with one black clad arm. As he stepped forward, Ken was heartened to hear Omi’s voice, low and businesslike, sound in his ear. *Weiss, mission start!* Taking a firm grip of his resolve, Ken marched determinedly into the room.

Seiichi was standing at a window on the far side of the room, a drink in his hand as he gazed out into the dark night. He turned as Ken walked in, smiling openly. “Much better,” he approved, his light gaze taking in Ken’s change of attire. “I wouldn’t be much of a host if I let you freeze to death, now would I?”

Internally wondering how freezing to death could possibly be worse than what his patron usually did to hitchhikers, Ken simply smiled and moved towards the man. The door closed behind him as, at a wave from Seiichi, the butler quietly removed himself. Trying to distract himself from the fact that he was now alone in a room with his somewhat dubious host, Ken glanced around at his new surroundings. He was, he realized, in a large den, tastefully done in dark green and redwood. A wet bar was on his right, while the other end of the room was taken up by an enormous big-screen television, almost the size of a pool table. A large coffee table stood in front of the TV, ringed by an expensive-looking furniture set made of rich black leather. He whistled lowly, impressed. If only the mission room at the Koneko was this nice, he might not mind spending time there so much.

Seiichi grinned, obviously pleased by his reception of the room. “Drink?” he offered, gesturing to the bar. Ken shook his head and the older man frowned slightly. “Not a drinker?”

“Not really,” Ken admitted. “I’m afraid I don’t hold my liquor very well.” He grinned weakly, attempting to turn it into a joke. “I’m not very good company when I’m blind drunk. Besides, I need to stay fit if I ever want to make it to the J-League.”

Seiichi’s expression was mild as he stepped up closer to Ken. “I guess we’ll just have to find something else to do then, ne Ken?” Ken could smell the whisky on the man’s breath as it washed over his face.

Suddenly speechless, Ken nodded wordlessly and was immensely relieved when Seiichi stepped back to a more comfortable distance. Taking another drink from the glass in his hand, the man turned to smile at him. “Shall we adjourn to the couch to enjoy the wonders of the World Cup in all it’s wide-screen splendour?”

Had he been asked that question in any situation other than this, Ken would have died of happiness right on the spot. As it was, he just hoped his “sounds great Seiichi-san,” sounded more enthusiastic than he felt.

Taking the younger man by the arm, Seiichi guided Ken over to the TV, the pressure light but insistent. Too far in to even think of pulling out at this point, Ken went with the flow, obligingly sinking down on the supple leather couch next to his host.  As Seiichi reached for a remote on the table, Ken used the opportunity to scoot as far away from the man as possible, trying not to make the movement seem too deliberate. Thankfully Seiichi didn’t seem to notice, but simply relaxed back on the couch and turned on the game.

Normally, the chance to watch a World Cup final match on a big-screen surround sound TV would have been a sufficiently fantastic event to make Ken forget his discomfort, and even the mission itself. That luxury was not allowed for him, however, as every shift Seiichi made reminded him of the man’s uncomfortably close presence. He found his mind straying away from the game and instead to Omi’s progress in searching for the data they needed. They had estimated that it would take at least ten minutes for him to bypass the security and get into the house, and the numerous guards would only hamper his progress once he finally started looking for the information. Hopefully, with Ken being ‘entertained’ in the den, they would be focusing more on the his presence than on the risk of possible intruders, especially when Yamagata made his move. Which, Ken noted to himself with an odd mix of relief and apprehension, didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. The man had been wrapped up in the game since it had started, speaking only occasionally to comment on a particularly good play or other. It was making Ken quite antsy to say the least.

“…Ken? Are you alright Ken?”

The voice, which Ken just realized had been talking to him for several moments, jolted him out of his reverie. He grinned apologetically and ran a hand through his hair. “Gomen, Seiichi-san. What were you saying?”

Seiichi smiled teasingly. “I asked if you wanted to watch another game,” he said. It was only then that Ken noticed the TV screen in front of him was blank. The game had obviously ended without him realizing.

The older man took in Ken’s chagrined expression with a laugh. “And here I thought you were a soccer fan, Ken,” he admonished, sliding his arms over the back of the couch as he leaned back. “Is my company really that poor?”

“No!” Ken denied hastily, turning to face him. “Your hospitality is too kind. I just… have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Hmm. That’s no good.” Seiichi leaned forward to look him in the eyes. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Ken blinked, feeling suddenly warm for some reason. “N-no. I’m fine thank you.” He could feel the heat radiating off of the other man’s body, despite there still being a good few inches of space between them.

“You sure you’re alright?” Seiichi frowned. He reached out with one hand to touch Ken’s cheek lightly. “You seem awfully flushed suddenly. I hope you didn’t catch a cold from standing in the rain so long.”

A tingle ran through Ken’s skin when Seiichi touched him, and he found himself unconsciously leaning into the contact, his eyes slipping half-closed in contentment. The hand cupped his chin gently and his eyes flew open in sudden shock at what he was doing. Seiichi had taken the opportunity presented by Ken’s distraction to draw even nearer, so close that their chests were almost touching. Ken felt his breathing begin to quicken.

“Maybe I could help you feel better,” Seiichi suggested, his tone as smooth as silk. His hand shifted up to grip the back of Ken’s head, his warm breath ghosting over Ken’s mouth. Trembling, Ken realized that his body was responding to the other man’s proximity and that he was unconsciously angling his face upwards to meet Seiichi’s lips.

He jerked back hastily, nearly falling off the couch in his desire to get away. The friction of the smooth leather against his legs sent another tingle of pleasure coursing through him, stronger this time. Gasping heavily, he felt Seiichi leaning over his half-prone form, a hand reaching out to help him upright.

“What’s gotten into you Ken?” demanded Seiichi, pulling him into a seating position. His hand lingered for a moment too long before withdrawing. “I wouldn’t have figured you for the clumsy type.”

Ken laughed noiselessly for a moment at that particular misconception, then his breath caught again as Seiichi’s hands settled on his shoulders, caressing them through the blue pyjamas. He heard a small whimper and it was with a shock that he realized that it had come from him.

“Am I hurting you?” Seiichi asked solicitously. He removed his hands and Ken leaned forwards, his body aching for the touch. Suddenly arms enfolded him and he found himself pressed against a firm chest, the contact making him gasp in pleasure. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the door to the room had opened, but the feelings coursing through his body overrode any intelligent reaction to that piece of information.

“Ken, you’re shaking.” Seiichi’s eyes were warm and soft, but Ken thought he could see a hint of something else deep in their brown depths. “Are you cold?” His voice deepened audibly. “Or is there something you want from me?”

Unable to come up with a coherent response, Ken wracked his brains to figure out what was wrong with him. There was no way this was a natural response, hell, he worked in a flower shop full of giddy school girls and lived with Kudoh Yohji – self-proclaimed sex god – neither of which had ever made Ken all hot and bothered before. It was some sort of aphrodisiac, surely. But how had they given it to him? He hadn’t used any soap or shampoo, nor had he eaten or drunk anything. So where were these feelings coming from?

“Don’t be afraid,” he heard Seiichi say, and suddenly became aware that the man was trailing kisses down his neck, his mouth soft and persuasive. Ken bit back a groan, mortified at his inability to control his reactions as Seiichi nuzzled under the collar of his shirt to suckle on his neck. The thin material slithered off his shoulder, the odd texture making his skin tingle from the contact.

“The pyjamas,” he realized with a gasp. He tried to draw back but Seiichi’s arms held him tightly. “There’s some sort of drug on the pyjamas! Let me go, you bastard!”

Seiichi raised his head from where he was feasting on Ken’s neck, a slight frown on his face. When Ken continued to struggle, the older man simply tightened his hold, eyes suddenly cold. “So you figured it out. What a shame, I was hoping to get a little more fun out of you before that.” He rubbed his palms against Ken’s back, smiling grimly when the brunette arched into the touch. “It’s too bad really. You would have had enjoyed this a lot more if you were as dense as I thought.”

Before Ken’s pleasure-fogged mind even had a chance to decipher that insult, Yamagata pulled him to his feet and threw him bodily onto the large coffee table. He vaguely heard a crash as Yamagata’s glass was knocked onto the floor, but was unable to get his thoughts together to form anything more coherent. The cold wood felt heavenly against his flushed skin and Ken was unable to block the spasm of pleasure that hit his body, leaving him gasping. He felt a presence behind him and tried to lash out with a fist, but his arm was grabbed in a firm grip at the same time as he felt the pin-prick of a needle jabbing into his neck. Kami-sama, but even that pain felt good! Whatever Yamagata had given him, it was way stronger than anything he’d ever heard of before, even as part of Weiss.

“Don’t bother trying to get up,” Yamagata told him, his voice cold as the hands left Ken’s body and the person behind him moved away. “My man’s just given you a muscle relaxant. It should keep you from trying to run off and making me have to kill you too soon.”

Ken cringed at the dark lust suddenly gleaming in the other man’s eyes. He tried to kick the bastard in the shin, the closest part of him to Ken from where he lay, but his legs refused to co-operate. His body felt slow and heavy, and he hadn’t got his leg up more than a couple inches off of the table before Yamagata grabbed him by the ankle and bent his legs back towards his body, leaning over him to stare smugly into Ken’s angry face.

“I’m impressed,” he told Ken, one hand sliding up his leg and pushing the too-large pyjama pants up to bunch around his knee. “Most people wouldn’t be able to move at all after that dose. Although,” he confided, “I’d rather hoped you would be able to handle it, it’s so much more fun if you can participate.” He traced the muscles in Ken’s leg with a feather light touch, his grin growing as the man under him tried to fight his own body’s reaction. “It’s such a shame,” he repeated, leaning forward until they were practically nose to nose. “I would’ve liked to experience that strength first hand, but you’ve gone and spoiled my fun.” He licked his lips. “I guess I’ll have to find other ways to entertain myself.”

The next thing Ken knew, Yamagata was kissing him passionately, hands coming down to cup his flushed face. Hating himself for his lack of control, Ken felt himself leaning into the kiss, arching his body into the form above him in a desperate need for contact. Yamagata’s mouth was firm and demanding on his, hands sliding back and fisting in his hair, hard enough to hurt, but that only made it feel better.

When Yamagata finally drew back, his face flushed, Ken managed to gasp out a question. “What… have you… done to me?”

“You want me to tell you?” Yamagata asked playfully, stroking Ken’s face. “If it makes you feel better, I guess I can do that much, as an advanced thank you.” His voice dropped to a sinful whisper as his tongue flicked out to trace the shell of Ken’s ear. “I get the feeling I’m going to get a lot of entertainment out of you tonight.”

Ken shuddered, half in revulsion and half in pleasure. Sucking at the juncture of Ken’s neck and shoulders, Yamagata began leisurely unbuttoning Ken’s shirt, spreading it open to expose his firm chest.

“Ooh, very nice,” Yamagata murmured, running his hands appreciatively over the toned muscles. “That’s why I like soccer players, they’re so well built.” He glanced up at Ken and laughed at the helpless rage on the younger man’s face. “Oh, you wanted an answer didn’t you? Alright then. As you guessed, there was a drug on the pyjamas that was absorbed into your skin on contact. It’s my own private invention,” he added proudly, his hands skimming across Ken’s stomach and causing the muscles to quiver in response. “A combination aphrodisiac and nerve stimulant. It increases the physical response to tactile contact, creating a strong response that translates any kind of touch into physical pleasure. As you can see…” he touched his fingers lightly to Ken’s cloth covered arousal, causing the brunette’s body to buck in pleasure, a light sweat breaking out across his forehead, “…it’s highly effective. It lasts for about 6 hours at a time.” He sighed again. “I normally don’t need to incapacitate my guests for at least an hour after the drug starts taking effect, but every now and then someone spoils my plans and I’m forced to move onto… other methods of taking my pleasure.”

Yamagata reached down for something on the floor next to the table, his body brushing against Ken’s intimately. Gasping for breath at the added stimulus, Ken stiffened when he saw Yamagata resurface, a shard of the broken whisky glass in his hand. “Do you know what one of the most impressive things about this drug is, Ken?” the older man asked, leaning up for another kiss. Ken broke away a moment later with a frantic hiss as he felt Yamagata draw the shard slowly and deliberately across his chest, blood blooming up immediately from the deep cut. Ken’s mind told him to draw away from the object, but, to his horror, he found himself arching into the pain, allowing Yamagata to cut him even deeper.

Chuckling darkly, Yamagata leaned back to look at Ken’s face. “This drug is so strong, that even pain produces its own sort of pleasure.” Bending down, he began to lap the pooling blood off of Ken’s chest, never breaking eye contact. “I could cut you to the bone you’d tell me to do it again. If I gouged out your eye you’d offer me the other one. If I gave you to my men to thank them for their hard work, you’d be begging them to fuck you. And deep inside, you’d know what you were letting me do and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop it.”

Ken felt his blood run cold, his mind replaying images of the mutilated bodies of this man’s former playthings. It was with a bitter sense of irony that he still found himself wondering how he could do such things when he seemed to lead such a normal life. Not even his worst nightmares could have prepared the brunette for this kind of depravity.

“Still so quiet?” Yamagata asked. He grinned cruelly. “Are you that eager to give me an excuse to make you scream?” He stabbed the piece of glass roughly into Ken’s shoulder, wringing a throttled cry from the brunette’s throat. “Much better,” he approved, leaving the glass where it was as his hands returned to their perusal of the younger man’s chest. “You’re so responsive. I like it. I think I might keep you all weekend, especially since there’s no one around to miss you. And don’t worry about the drug.” He smiled, a mockery of his former behaviour. “A person with a strong constitution can stand at least 7 subsequent doses before his heart fails and it would take an extreme overload of your senses to make you pass out.” He winked conspiratorially. “Although I’ve yet to push someone that far, and I don’t have any intention of wasting my time with you by being careless.”

Unable to find words to respond, Ken gazed up into that dark face, hoping his revulsion showed in his eyes.

Amused, Yamagata leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Ken’s lips. “You know,” he murmured. “I might consider putting off the painful part for a day or so if you’d be a little more receptive. I was so looking forward to some quality time with you Ken-chan. You are very pretty after all.”

His mind working furiously, Ken swallowed a couple of times in an attempt to calm his drug-enhanced hormones. “W-what do you want me to do?” he gasped out finally.

Yamagata smiled, pleased. He fell forward suddenly, his hands braced on the table on either side of Ken’s head so that their faces were nearly touching. “Touch me,” he ordered, and Ken laboriously brought his arms up to rest on Yamagata’s hips. “Spread your legs,” came the next command. Ken obediently willed his weak legs to part, feet braced on the table as he allowed the dark haired man to settle between his thighs, his hardness pressing against Ken’s own, causing the brunette to gasp in helpless pleasure for several moments. The legs of his pants bunched even higher above his knees, exposing a small patch of skin between them and the tops of his soccer socks.

Yamagata looked with amusement at the knee-high socks. “Cold feet Ken?” he asked, grinning at the double entendre in his words. He flexed against Ken experimentally, hissing in pleasure as their erections brushed. “You feel so good Ken,” he breathed, his eyes slightly glazed. “I’m so glad I brought you home with me tonight. Aren’t you?”

Closing his eyes in pain at the cruelty of that question, Ken noticed a faint buzzing in his ear, almost unnoticed thanks to the blood pounding in his head.

*…ata collection complete* Omi was saying. *Beginning phase two of mission. Confirm Siberian*

‘Fat chance of that’ Ken thought bitterly. ‘I can barely move as is, not to mention I’ve got a crazed psycho sitting between my legs.’ He hissed in pleasure as said crazed psycho took one hardened nipple between his lips, laving it with his tongue.

*Siberian!* Omi’s voice was sharp. *Confirm if possible* When no reply from Ken was forthcoming, Omi spoke once again. *Phase two beginning in five minutes. Attempt to complete your part of the mission, reinforcements will be sent as soon as possible*

Ken’s sigh of relief was masked by yet another gasp as Yamagata bit down hard on the nipple he was sucking. Seeming to enjoy the way that Ken’s hands tightened reflexively on his waist, Yamagata turned his attention the other nipple, his hands gripping Ken’s shoulders tightly enough to bruise.

Once Ken began squirming under his ministrations, Yamagata began to track lower, tracing the firm lines of Ken’s stomach down towards the waistband of his pants. Doing his best not to panic, Ken stared up at the ceiling above him, willing himself as far away from this as possible even as his body yearned towards the man above him.

Suddenly, a huge tremor rocked the building, jolting everyone in the room with the force. A high pitched warning signal started shrieking. Yamagata turned to look at the two men at the door. The klaxon-like sound was coming from the security pads attached to their belts. “What was that?” he demanded. “An earthquake?”

One of the men, his hand up to his ear as he listened to a headset, shook his head. “It was an explosion in the west wing, Yamagata-sama,” he answered, yelling slightly to be heard over the noise.

“Get Okudo in here!” Yamagata snarled, his hands squeezing Ken’s shoulders in anger.

A moment later the butler burst into the room, bowing at Yamagata. “Forgive me, Yamagata-sama,” he said.

“Hmmm.” Yamagata glanced at the boy pinned beneath him. “Was it him?” he demanded, his voice darkly angry.

Okudo shook his head. “We had him under constant surveillance and checked his belongings once he had left them, Yamagata-sama. It was as he told you; a soccer ball, two towels, a water bottle and a set of house keys. The extra pair of socks he put on before coming to meet you.”

“I noticed that,” Yamagata murmured, running a hand absently up Ken’s left leg. He glared at the suddenly nervous Okudo. “I suggest you go find out what the problem was then, before I become upset.” He glanced at the two men still standing at the door. “You go as well and lock the door behind you. I don’t want any more interruptions tonight.”

“Hai, Yamagata-sama!” they answered, filing out of the room and shutting the door behind them. The alarm faded as they left, Ken’s ears still ringing in the following silence.

“What a nuisance,” Yamagata grumbled. He turned back to Ken, the anger in his eyes becoming overpowered by quickly returning lust. “Now, where were we?” he purred, twining his fingers in Ken’s hair and leaning down for another kiss.

Agate hard brown eyes glared at him as he drew back for air. “I was about to send you to hell, you bastard,” Ken snarled.

“Wha…?” Before Yamagata could even untangle his hands, Ken dropped his hand away from the other man’s waist and, using all of his willpower, triggered the spring-loaded sheath hidden in his right sock. The handle of the knife sprang into his hand with a smack, the momentum carrying his strike in a wide arc that drove the weapon nearly to the hilt into Yamagata’s side.

Yamagata stared at him in shock, his hands closing over Ken’s in an attempt to pull out the blade. But Ken held fast, feeling the blood run down his arm as the man’s life drained away, although not nearly as slowly as he might have liked. He had struck between the fourth and fifth ribs, a fatal attack, and, judging from the blood beginning to run down Yamagata’s chin onto his chest, he had probably punctured a lung as well. Served the bastard right, anyway.

With an effort, Ken managed to force the half-dead body off of him, rolling it onto the floor next to the table. Shaking from the drug still running through his system and weakened from forcing his muscles to action, Ken didn’t have the strength to retrieve his knife. He futilely tried to pull out the piece of glass still embedded in his shoulder, but the stress was too great and the pain/pleasure caused by the friction drained his will even further. Outside the door he could hear the sounds of yelling and gunfire, a sure sign that the mission was progressing as planned. He could faintly hear Omi’s voice buzzing frantically in his ear, but couldn’t move to send him a message. Dropping his arms to his sides, Ken waited motionlessly for his fate.

***** To be continued…