Warnings will include yaoi, violence, non-con, and Brad being the bastard that he is.

*text* = thought
/text/ = telepathy

Disclaimer: I do not own Aya, Yohji, Omi, Ken, Brad or Schuldig. *sniffs* They belong to Project W. I do not make any money from writing or posting this story.

Aya tapped one slender finger on the arm of his chair as he waited for Hirumato to arrive, it was the only outward sign of his agitation. He'd known he was going to despise this mission the moment it began. Not so much because he had to pose as a buyer, but because Ken had to pose as a 'doll'. Still, it was better for it to one of them to be taken than some poor person off the street. So, Aya had done everything short of hand over a picture of his teammate to ensure Ken would be the one 'kidnapped' and taken into the lower levels of the club. Normally another team would be chosen for the information gathering aspect of the establishment, but the death of those twin girls had required a stepping up in plans so to speak. Hirumato was to die just as soon as Ken got a sample of the new drug they were pumping into their more unwilling subjects.

After what seemed like ages, the door opened and a short, pudgy man with graying hair that made him look amazingly like a stuffed badger entered. The broad smile on his face faded a little as he spied Aya sitting there. “Ah, pardon me 'sir, but this room has been reserved for a meeting with--”

“Myself, Aya Nakamura.” Aya interrupted. “I had to travel quite some time to get here, Hirumato. I trust you have my doll ready?”

Hirumato's smile faltered slightly. “Oh! I'm so sorry. When I saw the name on the application I assumed...” the badger shook his head, before he could dig himself any deeper by saying he'd assumed Aya would be female. He was already going to have enough to deal with explaining the doll's absence. “I'm afraid something has gone wrong with the delivery of your doll. He's not ready just yet.”

Aya's voice went from frosty to downright arctic as he sat up. “I don't care if you feel he is ready or not. You said you had him and I am ready to collect.”

Now Hirumato was looking quite pale. “I'm so sorry, but he was accidentally sold to another buyer. I'll be more than happy to refund the finder's fee, or to continue the search for a new doll at no expense, but we no longer have the one we obtained.”

Aya's eyes flashed dangerously as he heard this news. “I don't want another doll. I want the one whose picture you sent me. He's precisely what I was after and I won't settle for anything else.”

“I'm afraid nothing can be done.” Hirumato explained, trying to sound confident lest he simply wither under the redhead's gaze. “The other client has already taken possession of him.”

“I don't care.” Aya murmured as he got to his feet and casually made his way over to a window and tucked a piece of his crimson hair behind one ear to signal his other teammates that they needed to start moving into position. “If that is the case, then will simply have to buy him back. Who purchased him?”

“I'm sure you know I can't tell you that.” Hirumato said, relaxing now that those eyes were off of him. For just a moment he'd been certain the red head was going to try and attack him. Of course, that's what his guards were for, but he'd still rather not rough up a client. Especially not one who was able to pay the finder's fee up front in cash. “Client confidentiality is of the utmost priority here.”

“I see.” Aya replied before he lowered his arm, the blade that had been concealed in his sleeve sliding into his palm even as he he turned and lunged at Hirumato.

The knife was buried in Hirumato's gut and with an arm across his throat before the badger could even think to call for help. Aya's eyes glittered dangerously, one might even say maniacally, as he pressed his forearm against Hirumato's windpipe. “Now then, I'll ask one more time. Who bought the doll?”

Hirumato coughed and shook his head, fingers inching towards the panic button in his pocket. He never got a chance to press it. The blade was twisted then dragged downward, splitting the man like a fish. Aya was walking away before the bastard drew his final rattling breath. The crimson haired assassin opened the door carefully, but as expected, Yohji was waiting for him outside, having permanently silenced Hirumato's bodyguards.

“Where's Ken?” the blonde asked, looking into the room behind Aya.

“Sold.” Aya replied, his voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “We need those surveillance videos from Omi. I need to know who stole him from me.”

Yohji would have joked over the fact Aya suddenly seemed to consider Ken 'his', but the look on the his leader's face stilled his tongue. The sword wielder's wrath was a palatable force and while Kudoh Yohji was daring, he was most certainly not stupid.

~ * ~

*Where the hell is the blackness? Drugs are supposed to deliver blackness, damnit!* Ken thought to himself as the last vestiges of sleep abandoned him, leaving him with some uncomfortably clear images of the night before. As if it weren't already bad enough that he was tied to the bed, his ass still sore from being fucked several times, he had to deal with the memory of said fucks, and with the memory the fact he'd actually 'asked' for it all past that first blow job.

“Finally awake I see.”

Ken gritted his teeth and turned towards that voice, wrists protesting slightly at the movement. The object of his current ire was sitting at a small table opposite the bed, a small breakfast for two spread in front of him. Ken's stomach gave a little grumble at the delectable scents wafting over to him, but that was secondary to his complete and suddenly all consuming wrath. “Bastard!”

“Good morning to you too, Ken.” Brad murmured, taking a sip from his cup of coffee. “Do you prefer coffee or tea? I wasn't certain so I made both.”

“I'd prefer your head on a platter.” Ken hissed.

“Such a violent thought.” Brad replied, pouring the tea. “Farfarello would adore it, though he would prefer a different victim. Sugar or honey in your tea?”

“I don't want any fucking tea!” Ken shouted. “I want out of here!”

“Ah, but then I wouldn't be able to keep my promise.” Brad purred. “You do remember the promise right? The one you begged me for after riding my cock like a wanton slut?”

Ken's cheeks turned a brilliant shade of read as the words caused that little scene to replay in his head. It hurt more because not only could he not deny it, he also couldn't cry rape. The drugs had been on their way out of his system by then, he'd just been so worked up he couldn't stop and somehow, some way, he could tell the American knew it. Frustration at himself was quickly vented on the most convenient target. “I wasn't myself and you know it! You took advantage of me!”

Brad sighed and set down his cup. “Really, kitten. You would do so much better to just admit you liked it and save us both some grief. You want me, and I want you. As long as our goals continue to merge there is no reason we cannot indulge those desires.”

“I don't want you! I can't even stand looking at you!” Ken hissed. Of course, that wasn't entirely true. Even before last night Ken wouldn't have been able to deny he found the American attractive in a purely physical sense. He was only human after all, and Brad was a gorgeous specimen even inside that damned infuriating suit. Silky black hair, whiskey colored eyes, strong hands, and a voice that flowed like liquid sin. *He kept me hard without taking off a single stitch of clothing. What the hell would happen if I actually saw him naked?* His imagination happily provided a pretty graphic scenario that nearly made the young man moan.

The American shook his head and picked up a piece of toast, smearing it with whipped honey before he began eating. “You know, that argument isn't very convincing when you're lying there getting hard right before my eyes.”

“That has nothing to do with you! Last night only happened because I had those damned drugs in my system!” Ken shouted, yanking on his bonds again. There was no way he was about to admit thoughts of finally seeing Brad naked had been the real cause of his swelling need.

Brad finished off his toast and pulled out a small vial containing a few small, colorful pills embossed with a variety of designs. “You mean this? Sorry to disappoint you kitten, but Euphoria only lasts for a few hours. By the time we got home the effects would have been gone. Everything beyond that was entirely your own doing.”

Ken stopped struggling and eyed the pills warily. “I'm not taking them again. You can't make me.”

Brad made a derisive sound. “I don't need a drug to make you scream kitten. In fact, I think I'll give you some indisputable proof now that we can both agree you're sober and able to make your decisions with a clear head.”

Ken was about to ask what the hell that meant when Brad stood and began to remove his clothes. Ken blushed a bit at first but couldn't tear his eyes away when Brad stood and began to unbutton his shirt. There were no cries of denial, no token struggling, just a single, almost overpowering, thought. *Finally.*

Brad knew he had a captive audience, so he kept the opening of his shirt tortuously slow as he walked back to the bed and knelt down beside Ken. The assassin's eyes ran over the small line of bronzed skin being revealed to him, before flicking to Brad's groin. The American almost moaned when the pink tip of Ken's tongue flicked across his lips. He would have loved to take advantage of that hot mouth once more, but he already knew time was short. He would have just enough time to fulfill Ken's request to feel him skin to skin before he had to depart.

Ken let out a small sound of protest when he was suddenly flipped onto his side and denied the show he'd been hoping for. “What the hell?!”

Brad opened his shirt more and yanked Ken backwards so the younger man's back was pressed against his chest. “You asked to feel me skin on skin. You never requested to see.”

Ken was about to shout that Brad knew that wasn't what he meant, when he realized that would be as good as admitting he actually wanted him. His mind ran a few merry little circles around that bit of logic, giving Brad just enough time to lube his cock and shove into Ken with one hard thrust. The brunette let out a scream at the sudden invasion, pain racing up his spine and all along his body. Brad gave him precious little time to adjust, only waiting for the worst of the spasms to die down before he began to move. At first Ken was sure he was going to feel nothing but agony without the drugs to help him, but Brad had definitely learned his body in their short time together and a few well aimed jabs against his prostate had him whimpering from the mix of pleasure and pain.

Brad nipped Ken's earlobe before breathing into his ear. “That's it, Ken. Whimper for me. I know you like it rough. You want me to fuck you so hard you can't tell which you feel more, pain or pleasure.”

Ken shook his head, wanting to deny it, or at the very least to tell Brad to stop, but the American was right. He did like it. He liked the feel of being stretched to the limit on Brad's cock. He liked the mix of slow body shaking slams and fast thrusts aimed at his prostate. He liked the feeling of being kept off kilter, not knowing what he'd get next. And he especially liked feeling Brad's bared chest rubbing against his naked back. *Fuck! It's not supposed to feel this way. I'm supposed to hate this without the drugs! Why does it still feel good?* Ken moaned as his thoughts began to fragment. There was no more denying it, he loved the sensation of being fucked. His body was rocking back to meet Brad thrust for thrust even as tears of shame flicked at the corners of his eyes for wanting it all and more.

The American let out a sinister chuckle. “For someone who trying to deny he wants this, you certainly are eager, Ken. You're practically fucking yourself on me, no drugs involved.”

A small sob broke from Ken at that, it felt like something was breaking inside, but he still couldn't drum up the desire to ask Brad to stop, not with release so tantalizingly close. Brad sensed the end was near and reached down to wrap his hand around Ken's need, giving the firm shaft a few firm strokes before the younger man let out a hoarse scream, inner muscles clamping down on him with delicious tightness as liquid heat spilled over his hand. It only took a couple more thrusts before he was coming as well, emptying his seed deep inside Ken's body, marking what was now his.

They lay like that for a long time, labored breathing slowly returning to normal. Ken wondered for a moment if he'd finally get to see Brad naked now that the precog had gotten what he wanted. Some twisted part of him insisted this was only fair, seeing as Brad had not only seen him naked, but had touched, kissed, or suckled every inch of his body. It didn't seem like that was going to happen though. Ken felt the bed dip and shift before the rustle of clothes made it clear Brad was getting dressed. Ken's eyes narrowed as he turned and watched Brad get to his feet to gather his things. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!”

“Giving you time to cool off.” Brad replied simply. “Don't worry. Your friends will be along soon enough. Dream of me in the meantime, eh?”

Ken blinked, then began shouting all over again as the American had the gall to actually walk out on him, leaving him tied to the bed, smelling of sex and debauchery. The young man was practically blind with fury as his voice rattled the windows. “The fuck?! Get back here and untie me you bastard! Are you listening to me? If you don't get back here I swear I'm going to gut you! You hear me, Oracle?! I'll kill you!”

Schuldig twisted his pinky finger in one ear as Crawford exited their little safe house and approached his car. “Oi...noisy thing. What is it you see in him?”

“Quite a bit.” The American replied as he slid into the driver's seat and waited for Schuldig to sit down beside him. “If you behave I might even show you one day.”

A/N: *sigh* Brad is so evil sometimes.