Work Text:
Yohji has this scar. Well, okay, Yohji has a lot of scars, so does Ken, so do they all, it kind of comes with the job - but the point is, this one scar of his starts thin and fine, high on his hip where it shows when he wears those low pants, then curves in a slow, lazy arc, back up and around, widening slowly, then disappears under the back of his pants, and Ken can't stop looking at it. It's like art, he thinks, like it was put there on purpose, even though he knows it's nothing of the sort, remembers the mission when Yohji had gotten up close and personal with a bodyguard with a switchblade. He still thinks it works better than the tattoo on his shoulder.
So he looks, because Yohji is the kind of guy who likes being watched, even if it's just Ken looking instead of a pretty girl.
Yohji notices, of course, and grins at him. When Ken doesn't knock it off after a while, he jokes (loudly) to Omi that Ken's always staring at his ass these days, and maybe Omi ought to quit hogging the computer in the basement all the time. This, of course, annoys Omi and makes Ken kind of blush and come up with some sort of half-hearted denial for his and Aya's benefit.
But he doesn't stop.
A while later, they're coming back from a mission, sweaty, tired, Ken splashed with blood, both his and the target's, a rent torn in Yohji's coat, and Yohji says maybe he'll help Ken patch himself up if Ken fixes his coat.
Ken says Yohji ought to be able to sew his own damn coat, but he follows Yohji to his apartment anyway, both because he has a cut on the back of his thigh that'll be a pain to take care of on his own and because he knows what Yohji wears under his coat half the time.
He ends up stripping down first, jacket, vest, and sweater off but keeping his t-shirt on, then kicking off his boots and peeling his jeans down, rolling them up so that the bloodstains on them don't smear on Yohji's floor.
When he looks up, though, he sees that Yohji's been watching him, and not with a hurry-up-and-don't-throw-your-crap-all-over-my-room-you-fuck look, either, and he doesn't quite know what to do because Yohji is, has always been, the straightest guy ever. In the end he just leans over, lets Yohji look at his leg, groans when he says he thinks it needs sewed up.
It fucking hurts as always, especially with the adrenaline from the mission gone, but Yohji is good at it, does quick, neat work. Ken looks over his shoulder at the neat suture and pulls a face because that's even more evidence that Yohji should be taking care of his own gear.
Yohji punches him in the ass for his trouble, then smears antibiotic gel over another scrape.
Ken's checking himself over mentally, taking inventory: some bruises, nothing to worry about, the cut, taken care of, everything else, fine, when he hears the long zip of Yohji's coat opening and turns around, his leg feeling a little stiff, just in time to catch the armful of navy-and white fabric as Yohji tosses it at him. Belly shirt and pants low around his narrow hips as usual, and Ken is thankful that Yohji's coat is so long, because holding it like this hides the fact that his cock jerked hard in his boxers just from looking at him, his eyes immediately drawn to his hip, that long, tempting line.
Yohji lets him look for a second, then shifts, his hands going to the buttons of his pants. Ken's eyes jerk up fast, meeting Yohji's, and Yohji says you know I'm into girls, right. Ken says he knows (and besides there are any number of reasons why it's not a good idea to sleep with Yohji) and Yohji undoes his pants anyway, sliding them down, baring tight black briefs and pale skin and an inch or so more of silvery red scar.
Ken's mouth dries up and the world seems to slow down so it looks like Yohji's doing a little strip tease just for him, and he is so hard right now. Yohji kicks his pants off and Ken thinks, fuck, maybe he's a little horny too.
Yohji snaps his fingers and says hey, up here, and Ken really does blush this time, fast and hot, and Yohji laughs at him a little, but then he asks if Ken really wants it, really wants him, and Ken forgets to be embarrassed and forgets all those dozens of good reasons in his hurry to say yes, God yes.
Grinning at him, Yohji reaches out and grabs the coat out of Ken's nerveless fingers, tossing it aside, and whistles under his breath as he looks at his cock, so hard it's almost poking out the top of his boxers, and he asks if Ken wants to suck him off.
He tries to answer that but his voice isn't working for some reason, so he just drops to his knees instead, feeling the stitches pull but hold. The pain doesn't bother him at all because Yohji hooks his thumbs into his briefs and pulls them down, just like that. He takes hold of his half-hard cock, holding it for Ken, wiping it gently across his lips, and Ken whispers Jesus and opens his mouth and lets Yohji feed it to him, salt and bitter and slick already.
Ken raises his hands, sliding them up Yohji's thighs, the fingers of his left hand following the scar from his hip backwards, finally, finally mapping out the point where it ends on his ass with a wide, diagonal tip. He wants to lick it, trace it over with his tongue, find all of Yohji's scars and do the same, but instead he sucks harder, forcing as much of Yohji's dick into his mouth, down his throat, as he can. It's been a long time since he's done this and he knows Yohji probably gets better every week, but he doesn't think any of the girls want it as much as he does, is pretty damn sure that none of them have wanted it for so long, and that must count for something.
Yohji's hand runs through his hair, sweaty and spiked from the mission, and feathers it back, gently, touching Ken like he's a woman, like Yohji might accidentally hurt him. Ken wants to tell him to be rough, but he doesn't; he just looks up and sees Yohji watching him suck his cock, watching it slide in and out of his mouth, and he drops his other hand down and squeezes himself, just the once. He's so fucking worked up that that's all it takes to get him off in long, desperate pulses that have him moaning around Yohji's dick, jerking his hips forwards against nothing, filling his boxers with come, his fingers so tight on Yohji's hip, just below the scar, that his close-cut ragged fingernails leave deep red scratches.
Their eyes locked together, Yohji watches him do it, and he says fuck a little too loudly for the thin walls when Ken's throat clenches around him, and then Ken's name. And Ken thinks, through a thick, relaxed haze, maybe it's Yohji who's been watching too much porno, not Omi, because he pulls his cock out of Ken's mouth and jerks it, slick and wet from Ken's spit, and comes like that, splashing it across Ken's face in thick spurts, his eyes narrowing but never closing. When he's done he sets his dick to Ken's lips again and squeezes out the last few drops and, obligingly, Ken licks them up, tickling the underside of Yohji's cock with his tongue just to hear him hiss.
Yohji leans over him to the table Ken had been braced against earlier and grabs the towel out of his first aid kit, and Ken tilts his head so that Yohji's hip brushes his cheek, so he can get just a little 'accidental' lick of his skin there even though his mouth is full of the taste of Yohji's come. His cock twitches, but then Yohji is moving away again, wiping Ken's face clean, throwing the towel over onto the big pile of their dirty clothes.
He heads for the bathroom; Ken hears the water in the shower go on and he's more than a little surprised when Yohji's head sticks back out the door and he tells Ken to hurry his ass up because they both need a shower yesterday and Ken shouldn't be getting his stitches wet.
Ken nods, climbing to his feet and following. Okay, he says, mostly to himself, and yeah, it's okay. He's not sure what it is, but it's okay.