Disclaimer: All the characters featured here that you recognise are not my own. I'm just taking wild liberties with them. This is a work of fiction written for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made out of this.

Warning: Yaoi. Men loving men. NC-17.

Breathe No More

By Alexis C.
Completed 19th May 2003

He was made to be loved.

I could never be sure who made the first move. Just that someone asked, someone said yes and we ended up where we were. In all honesty, it didn't matter who had asked the question first, because eventually one of us would have done it. We were too caught up with each other in our web of lust and mutual angst  for things not to progress to this level. Deep down, I think we both knew what would happen the first time our eyes met across the crowded smoky club. We were hot for each other. Our fate was sealed the moment we hit the dance floor. The music was loud, fast and we were both trying to out do each other, touching, teasing, flat out grinding. If nothing else, we generated enough chemistry that everyone was staring soon after we picked up the beat. He smiled, seeming to lap up the attention, but I knew he had eyes only for me. He danced for me and me alone.

He was perfection.

I wanted to break that perfection.

We didn't have sex that first night. Or the many nights after that. He was too wary of me, too distrustful of the bad reputation I no doubt held among his team mates and the organisation backing them. Not that I blamed him. After all, I had been responsible for the kidnap and torture of his team mate and the death of the said team mate's girlfriend/sister. Not to mention the many times we'd gone up against each other during missions. He would have been a fool if he'd trusted me so easily.

Kudoh Yohji is anything but a fool.

I could have had him that first night. But I wanted him willing, I wanted him to give himself to me freely, not under my telepathic influence.

We started hanging out at the bars and the clubs together. We never arranged to meet, but our paths crossed so frequently in our night life that one would have thought we had a standing arrangement. After missions, before missions, on off-days. One of us would slide onto the stool beside the other and order a drink from the bartender. We'd sit quietly sipping our respective drinks for awhile before one of us would break the silence. We never spoke of the work we did, the blood on our hands, the stains on our conscience, anything but that. We left the night spots alone, with others, never with each other, but as the day went by and darkness fell upon the city, we'd scour the clubs just to find each other again. We were dangerously drawn to each other like moths to a flame. He was searching for something in me that I didn't think I had to give. I was biding my time, baiting him slowly.

I wanted to use him and break that enchantment he'd cast over me once and for all.

The times we met during missions, we fought each other so furiously, no one would guess we were anything but sworn enemies. No one could ever accuse us of mixing business with pleasure.

I think Brad knew about us. But he never raised any objection to our relationship.

It was on a night just like any other that someone made the proposition. We were both sober, we hadn't had the time to get well and truly smashed yet, having arrived only shortly after a mission which both our teams had blown, no thanks to interference on the parts of both teams.  The moment we'd caught sight of each other, we had been at each other's throats instantly, Weiss incorrectly assuming that we were there to protect their target and us just striking back in self-defence. By the time we were done with trying to kill each other, our target had escaped. Eight highly trained professional assassins out for his blood and the lucky bastard had lived. The man ought to be thanking the deity watching over him right now.

We found our way to the nearest motel, a seedy little place situated just so people like us could conduct their illicit little affairs. The man handing out the keys leered at us as he dropped the keys into Yohji's outstretched palm. Yohji took no notice of him. I gave him a cold hard look and an accompanying headache.

As soon as the door was closed, we were all over each other.  I was working his tight leather pants off even as he clawed my own top off between hungry kisses. He tasted of beer and cigarettes. I couldn't care less, as my tongue delved into his wanting mouth, and I took of him as much as I could. He pulled away and swore sharply, as my fingers pressed into the flesh wound Farfellow had earlier inflicted upon his flawless expanse of skin. I made no apologies, instead sliding to my knees to kiss and suck alternately at the slash on the side of his torso. He gasped, both in pain and pleasure as my tongue darted out across the wound that was now bleeding slightly. I  savoured the taste of his blood in my mouth, the rich liquid making me a little heady. I pulled him down roughly and when he fell into my waiting arms, I pressed my bloodied lips to his, letting him taste himself, the rich crimson liquid keeping him alive. His arms came around me then, caressing my hair gently before falling to my shoulders. I ripped that watch of his off his wrist in one violent wrench. It clattered away beneath the bed. He made as if to retrieve it, but I jerked him back and he obliged after a little frown. Swiftly, I divested him of the rest of his clothing. I had waited far too long for anything to get in my way. The rising heat between us was almost too much to bear now. I held him down against me, our aching needs rubbing insistently against each other and he ground his hips hard against mine. I almost came then, I was so hard already, but I brought myself back from the edge of oblivion. I didn't want to come until I was buried deep within him, until he pleaded with me for more, until he was screaming my name over and over again.

"To bed," I whispered in his ear, and once again he complied, amazingly agreeable.

Crawling towards him across the pristine white sheets, I thought of how beautiful he looked, lying flushed upon the bed, a light sheen of sweat glistening off his lean body. I dipped into his mind, dispensing with all the usual care I took when I wanted to hide my intruding presence from the victim. The passion and lust he was emitting nearly blinded me for an instant, as it crashed down over me. His green eyes widened as he felt my mental invasion, but he didn't say a word. He merely drew me closer and playfully, almost wonderingly threaded his fingers through the flaming mass of my hair. I moaned then, from the gentle touch as well as his intense want, no need for me. Shaking his head, he reached for the lube hidden in the fabric of his pants I'd so carelessly discarded just now, and began to slick my length up, making sure to keep his touch light and fleeting.

The job done, he leaned back against the headboard, gazing at me through lust-filled eyes that were half-closed. Without a second thought, I nudged his legs further apart and dove in mercilessly. The scream that ripped from his throat was almost like music to my ears. I adjusted our position slightly, allowing myself to drive impossibly deeper into him. He was clawing wildly at my back, leaving long angry red welts, but I continued pushing into him. He cried out, his eyes squeezed shut, as tears streaked down his face, but he didn't call for me to stop, settling instead for digging his fingers into my arms. He was tight, almost like a virgin and a mental sweep of his mind told me that he had been with few male lovers.

So much the better. I would make him remember me.

I conquered him then, and his cries of pain soon gave way to those of pleasure. I drank his pain, his pleasure deeply, feeding off the emotions like a drug addict. I tensed and came, deep within him. He came screaming my name soon after. I moved off him, withdrawing my presence from his mind.

We lay there for a long while in the dark, side by side, our bodies barely touching. I had used him, as I had promised myself I would, but now there was nothing. No sense of smug satisfaction at having had my way. No contempt for the man beside me who had been weak enough to yield so willingly to me. Instead, all I was left with was a feeling of utter and complete loneliness. A soft rustle from my side and I turned, just in time to see him lighting a cigarette. The flare of the flame illuminated his face, casting a soft glow along the lines of his face just briefly.

He was so damn beautiful.

He took a drag on the cigarette then exhaled, letting the smoke curl slowly to the ceiling. Wordlessly, he offered me the cigarette, his gaze locking onto mine.

There was nothing in his eyes.

I took the cigarette offered. We sat in silence for a while just sharing that single cigarette.

When it had finally burnt itself out, I rose and dressed. At the door, I paused. Whipping around, I crossed the room in a few quick strides and stood before him, looking down at him, taking in his beauty. He blinked at me, surprised, and I bent down and tenderly pressed my lips down to his, my hands on either side of his cheek. Whereas our love making had been fast, furious and almost brutal, this kiss was gentle, deepening as he responded in kind, tentatively at first..

I didn't realise it at that point in time, but I think I loved him then.

When we finally broke away, I traced the line of his jaw slowly with my finger before pressing my forehead to his.

"Goodbye," I murmured to his lips.

 I left him with a sweet dream, the nicest I knew he'd had in ages.

We met many more times after that,  with each of our meetings ending in the same way. I was becoming more and more obsessed with him with each passing day, with each secret tryst. I had gone after him initially, with the intention of taking him, of exposing his every weakness and fear and then leaving him broken. I had done all that, but instead of boring of him and leaving him after that first time, I stayed on, haunting the night spots like a ghost until I saw him. He showed no indication of actively seeking me out, of being at all affected by my presence, but night after night, I stole him from his dance partners and drew him to the dark, dirty little room where I used him, over and over again, where I made love to him, night after night. He never showed any sign of wanting me, of needing me after that first night and I hadn't probed, afraid the mental connection would reveal to me thoughts I wanted no knowledge of. I could have crushed Weiss with all the information I could have drawn from his mind, but I never did.

It would mean crushing him too.

I don't think he loved me then, but I knew he liked it when I held him in the dark, long into the hours before the crack of dawn, after our bout of lovemaking.

I left him for good in winter, in the bitter cold of the night. By that time, the conflict between Kritiker and Estet had escalated to such proportions that any communication discovered between the agents of the organisation would lead to immediate execution. Japan and the whole world had been swept up in the fury. Estet wanted to rule the world. Kritiker wanted to stop them at any cost. Schwarz and Weiss were the puppets caught in between. When I left the apartment that night to look for him, Brad had stopped me dead in my tracks with a simple command.

"Break up with him."

It hadn't been a warning, it had been a command, given because Brad had seen no other way out for us in his visions. The great Oracle spoke and I listened. It was all I could do.

It had to end that night or we would both die.

We met in a dark alley, out of view of any prying eyes that would betray us. By then, we were both agents known to the public. Our raging battles had been broadcasted on TV channels all over the world. We were so widely recognised that it was a wonder that no one had ever put two and two together, that no one had ever remembered the pair of us, hanging out ever so often in the bars and night clubs, entering the seedy motels together.

When I saw him that night, I knew at once that he too had realised that we could not go on. He had been smoking his favourite brand of cigarettes, the way he had been when I'd met him in the club for the first time. I settled back against the wall beside him, just enjoying the way his presence washed over the me, the way he placed his head on my shoulder. I placed an arm around his shoulders drawing him close for warmth.

It was a while before he spoke around the cigarette.

"It's getting dangerous."

I said nothing, merely surveyed the surroundings and drew him deeper into the concealing shadows.

He flicked the cigarette away, grinding it out in the cold white blanket of snow underfoot. I watched, memorising the way he looked in the play of shadows on his face.

"I  won't be meeting you again."

He turned to leave, but I dragged him back by the elbow and maneuvered him against the cold concrete graffiti covered wall. His face was a blank expression mask, but I could feel the emotions bubbling below the surface. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want me to let go of him, he didn't ever want to have to end up killing me.
I pressed my lips to his, expressing all my passion, all my regret, all my feelings for him with that one simple act. His eyes slid shut, and he clutched, almost desperately at the folds of my coat, as he opened his mouth to me. The kiss was achingly sweet. We held on to each other, clinging to the last shred of time we had together.

I was the one to break the hold first, to turn away and walk away from him. I couldn't bear to be the one to have to watch him leave in the swirling mists of the night. I had to be the one to step back first, because I knew I would break if I had to watch him go.

In the end, it was Estet who had the last laugh. It triumphed over the forces of Kritiker, driving them underground and wiping out almost all of its forces. It was hardly a surprise I suppose, with all the supernatural skills Estet's agents had. The world was left in the grasp of  madmen who wielded power like a deadly weapon. I stood among the victors, overseeing the mass operations that slowly but surely wiped out the agents of Kritiker, the one organisation that had had the resources and power to stand against Estet in the final struggle for freedom. I'd heard that he and his other three team mates had lived, that they had managed to escape from the clutches of death time and again. That was fine with me. I never wanted to see him again, never wanted to behold the beauty of his face, for I knew that would only lead to tragedy.

They brought him in one day, a hissing spitting wildcat, fighting furiously to free himself from the many that held him down. The four of them had walked right into a trap and he'd thrown himself into the fight, just so his friends could get away safely. I was angry, furious that his friends had left him behind, desperate to get him out before they killed him. The Oracle told me that it was useless, that there was no way he would walk away alive. I listened, grinding my teeth together, clenching my fist so hard I drew blood.

I was there, when they pressed the gun to his head. He stilled almost immediately, his body taut with tension. He glanced up once, only briefly at me. The emptiness he found in my eyes was enough to tell him that there would be no salvation from me. I watched with an aching heart as he bowed his head in resignation, his blonde locks obscuring those deep green eyes that I had grown to love so much.

I couldn't bear to see the light in his eyes fade out, couldn't bear to see his lifeless body on the ground. So I took the coward's way out, shoving  through the crowd to get away from the scene of his  death. I heard his voice in my head then, a voice soft but clear, ringing through my head.

Schuldig.

I whirled around, my eyes wide. He was looking right at me now, oblivious to the crowd of onlookers who had come to witness the execution of one of the infamous members of Weiss. There was no fear in his eyes.

I love you.

The gun went off.

He crumbled instantly, dead before his body even hit the ground. If it were not for Brad holding on to me tightly, I think I would have collapsed as well. It was only when the crowd had dispersed, casting strange looks at me that Brad finally let me go. I sank to the ground, staring numbly at his lifeless body. I knew the other agents found me suspicious, puzzled over the ashen look on my face, wondered why I had turned to him so suddenly, why I was so shaken. I couldn't give a damn what they thought now. I was useful enough to Estet that they wouldn't touch me so long as I continued working for them.

Slowly, painfully, I got to my feet and moved towards him, without thinking, before sinking to my knees beside him. He was as beautiful in death as he was in life. I smoothed the tendrils of hair away from his face, before burying my face in his hair, clutching his lifeless body to myself as I  slowly began to shake with silent despair.

If I ever had any doubts about my feelings towards him, they were gone now.

Schuldig.

I love you.

I loved him too.

The End.