In the Garden of Morpheus
by Rana Eros
Written for the Yaoi Challenge, in which Spren requested: "Aya has a secret admirer." I gave him two. Eliza, Rune, and Wilde all provided marvelous beta duty, and Eliza suggested the title.
Aya expects to dream of Takatori Reiji the night after their paths cross again. Instead, he dreams of the dark-haired man who deflected his vengeance, glasses flashing above a predatory smile. There's another man with him, hair brassy, eyes pale and intent. Aya does not know from where his mind conjured such a creature, but he suits the dark-haired man like an orange tiger lily paired with the darkest orchid.
"You would think in terms of flowers," the brassy one laughs, and a storm of rose petals falls between them, rich and red. "Does that suit your taste?"
Aya shrugs rose petals from his trenchcoat and asks, "Who are you?"
"What you really want to know is what we mean." Tiger Lily's smile is all teeth. "But surely you can guess."
"What is your quarrel with Takatori Reiji?" Orchid's voice is rich as black loam, curling in Aya's belly in ways even Yohji can't manage. Orchid takes a step toward him, bruising rose petals under his feet, and Aya draws his sword.
Tiger Lily tsks. "That won't do."
The sword turns to roses in his hand. He feels the bite of thorns through his gloves before they fall away to mingle with the petals on the ground. He frowns, looks up to see Orchid less than a hand's span away. He takes a step back, startled, and Tiger Lily embraces him from behind.
"What is your quarrel with Takatori Reiji?" Orchid asks again.
"Who are you?"
Orchid's smile is thin and no less threatening than Tiger Lily's. Behind his glasses, his eyes are very blue. "This is your dream, Ran. You tell us who we are."
Aya's heart picks up speed. They are in his dream, but they are no dream of his. And they know his name.
"How are you here?"
We could tell you, Tiger Lily says without speaking aloud, but you wouldn't believe us.
Aya gathers himself and rocks forward, hoping to knock the two of them together and so break loose. Orchid steps back, anticipating the move as he anticipated Aya's actions when they fought in the waking world, and Tiger Lily carries him to the rose-strewn ground.
"Hmm," Tiger Lily says against his ear, lips moving on the gold of his sister's earring, "right idea, but not quite my preferred setting. You don't mind if I make a few adjustments, do you?"
And the feel of the ground changes to something softer, cushiony. Aya thinks he sees velvet where the petals don't quite cover everything. Orchid kneels down beside him, touches his face. He jerks away, but he can only go so far before Tiger Lily's hold stops him, and Orchid touches him again.
"We can give you Takatori, if you want him that badly." Orchid's hand drifts down his face to his shoulder, brushes over his arm and Tiger Lily's fingers, rests on his own gloved, fisted hand. "But not yet."
Aya twists, kicks backward and feels his foot sink into something very soft. Tiger Lily laughs in his ear, still holding him, but it's certainly not him Aya kicked. When he tries to pull his foot back, it sticks, and he feels his boot start to dissolve.
"We're not interested in fighting you, Ran." Tiger Lily's voice is not as deep as Orchid's, but there's a huskiness to it that has its own effect on Aya. A smoker's voice, and again Aya thinks of Yohji. "Well, now, isn't that pretty?"
Aya doesn't understand at first, but then he sees Yohji in the darkness beyond Orchid. Yohji poses in one of his more revealing outfits, taking a long draw on a cigarette and watching Aya over his sunglasses with come-hither eyes.
"Is he your lover, Ran?"
Aya jerks his eyes back to Orchid, who has twisted to see what Aya is looking at. Orchid's thumb strokes back and forth across Aya's knuckles through the glove, and Aya wonders if it's destined to go the way of his lost boot. Tiger Lily laughs again.
Do you want it to? I think Brad's rather looking forward to taking it off the old-fashioned way.
Yohji's now right behind Orchid --Brad-- and looking down at Aya with a puzzled frown. "Aya, what are you doing?"
"Just what it looks like, lover-boy," Tiger Lily croons up at him. "Care to join in?"
It's Aya's own horror, he's certain, that causes dream-Yohji to recoil. Tiger Lily presses a kiss to the side of his throat, whispers, "Do you think the real thing would play with us? I can arrange that."
"Leave him alone."
"You're the one thinking about him. It's your dream, Ran."
Brad smiles to the increasingly familiar sound of Tiger Lily's laughter, and dream-Yohji vanishes.
"Well," Tiger Lily says slowly, "perhaps not entirely."
"The point is, it's not your teammates'." Brad's teeth are very white in this dark dreamscape. "At least not yet."
Adrenaline shocks through Aya's system, but Tiger Lily's twining around him like strangling ivy and he can't move. Brad's pulling off his glove now, Tiger Lily unbuckling his coat, and he wants his katana back so fiercely he can almost feel the handle hard in his palm. The feeling vanishes when Brad brushes his fingertips over the same spot.
Stop fighting, Tiger Lily says. You're going to lose.
Won't stop or won't lose?
Brad brings his hand up and kisses each finger, holding his eyes. He wants, quite adamantly, to wake up, not least because what Brad is doing feels very, very good.
Brad leans down, kisses his temple and murmurs, "See? You've lost already."
Tiger Lily pulls Brad in for his own kiss. "Why don't you stay down here and play with us?"
Brad's laugh is as dangerously seductive as Tiger Lily's, and Aya feels both of their hands on his coat, unbuckling and untying and undoing. He closes his eyes when the last fastening falls open.
But he is already dreaming.
They pull him to his knees and he twists against their hands, but even he can't say if it's to escape. Tiger Lily strips him of his coat while Brad kisses him, slow and deep and there's not enough air, not when Brad's breathing into him, stealing his breath, not when Tiger Lily slides fever-hot hands under his sweatshirt and onto his belly, stroking just above the waistband of his jeans. He's glad Brad's kissing him, he's certain he would be making noise otherwise, and arching into every touch is mortifying enough.
Of course, Brad pulls away at just that moment. Aya reaches out to stop him and realizes his hands are free. It's instinct to strike out, and Brad almost doesn't duck in time. Vines of climbing roses whip out of the darkness to coil around his wrists and pull them away from his body, drawing his back and arms taut. Tiger Lily's fingernails score his skin and Brad takes hold of the collar of his sweatshirt and pulls it tight, strangling him for a moment before tearing the fabric down the middle.
Tiger Lily forces his knees apart, moves between them and presses tight against his back, against his ass. It doesn't feel like Tiger Lily is wearing any clothes.
I told you to stop fighting.
I don't know how to stop.
Brad's hands are gentle at his fly, and Brad's eyes are terrifyingly understanding. "We know, Ran. We know."
It's not that we mind doing it this way, Ran, but you must understand the rules. If you fight, we will beat you. You will always lose.
You don't know that.
Brad moves in close again, slips the last button loose and breathes against his mouth, "I know."
Jeans and underwear both disappear under Brad's hands. Tiger Lily is indeed naked against him. So is Brad when he presses in closer, taking Aya's mouth the way Aya expects they'll take everything. Brad's cock is hot alongside his, Tiger Lily's against his ass, their hands and chests and thighs a hot, slick, moving prison.
Are we the prison or the shield, Ran?
He doesn't understand.
We'll give you this and you can say you don't want it. We'll give you this and you can say we made you.
They are making him. The vines hold him still between them, and he cannot fight free.
Brad kisses the base of his throat. Tiger Lily kisses the back of his neck. Yes, Ran. That's it exactly.
There's a finger at his ass, slick as it slips inside. The intrusion feels deeper than it should, and he doesn't know if that's the result of dreaming. He sucks in a breath as it shifts, then loses it to Brad's questing tongue. One of them curls a hand around his cock, almost too tight, and starts a slow jerking rhythm. Another finger moves in his ass, and another, and he begins to wonder if Tiger Lily plans to put his whole fist in there when the fingers spread, Tiger Lily moves against his back, and something larger pushes in. That intrusion feels like Tiger Lily's voice in his head, so intimate he flinches from it without thinking.
He does, but all he inhales is Brad, who tastes of the sea and dark flowers.
Poetic as I'd expect of a would-be samurai. What would you think of my taste?
Tiger Lily must be speaking to Brad the same way; Brad pulls away and Tiger Lily brings up a hand --slick, hot-- draws Aya's head back against his shoulder and kisses him. Aya tastes ginger, the sharp bite of alcohol, and yes, the spicy tang of tiger lilies. Tiger Lily laughs into his mouth, stabs him with tongue and cock both as Brad bites his right nipple, branding him.
I want to keep you, Tiger Lily says, then even his mental voice falls silent. Or perhaps it's just that Aya is beyond hearing him anymore; the dream has become all flesh.
Brad reclaims his mouth, yet he can still feel teeth on his nipple, a tongue sliding its way down to his belly, a mouth replacing the hand around his cock. The vines at his wrists have become hands, hands bruise his hips, brush up his thighs, thread through his hair and pull, curl around his neck and squeeze. Tiger Lily drives into him hard and the shape in his ass is echoed in his mouth. There is not a part of him they don't touch, and the heat of their bodies will surely burn him away in just another moment.
But even when he catches fire, he can still feel them, burning with him. They will all turn to ash together, and it will be one more way they've touched him.
That's actually rather sweet, and I promise we'd put you back together just right. Ginger and teeth. We quite like the way you fit.
"Especially between us," Brad says aloud, lying now beside him on the petal-strewn, velvet-covered ground. They are all still naked, but Brad is wearing his glasses, and they flash at Aya like a wink. "We'll try this again awake. Watch for us, Ran."
Aya opens his mouth, though he's not sure what he's going to say to that. Brad kisses him again, preventing him from saying anything. Then Tiger Lily turns Aya's head and gives his own kiss.
Someday, we will keep you. Lock you up in a room draped in velvet, take you on a bed of roses. You'd like that, wouldn't you, kitten?
He wants to say he wouldn't, wants to say, "Don't call me kitten," wants to say he'll watch for them to kill them. But he wakes before he can say anything, and just the memory of Tiger Lily's laughter, of Brad's eyes, tells him he'd be lying.
His bed is a mess, but his body is completely spent, and so he lies in it until morning.
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