Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ By the Book ❯ It's only a dream ( Chapter 10 )

Schuldig awoke to a thin, wool-coated arm wrapped possessively around his chest and growled darkly. It was all he could do to ignore it, for fear of waking the brunet next to him and having even more to deal with at so early an hour on a Friday.

 

After the barbaric trial of playing bodyguard at a nauseatingly opulent dinner party full of two-faced double-dealers, all he had wanted was a comfortable, solitary place where he could let Brad's nasal whines of “Pay attention!” “Not there!” and “Don't talk to her!” melt away into dreams. Instead he found himself sharing his bed with a spindly, cloying Japanese boy who had grappled him the moment he lowered himself beneath the sheets and had only been removed to his own side of the bed after several minutes of aggravated prying and tugging.

 

Schuldig groaned when his morning erection made itself known as he shifted cautiously beneath the sheets. He had never understood the function of a hard-on at such an early hour: waking was supposed to be a slow and solitary process, a time of matted hair, stink and stubble, rumpled clothes and breath that could kill a cow at twenty paces. It was hardly a condition to make a man feel sexy; Schuldig knew for a fact he wouldn't touch his 10am self with a ten-foot pole, and he was irresistible to begin with.

 

Despite the horror he expected to see, Schuldig chanced a glance at his oblivious bedmate and was surprised to find the younger man didn't seem to suffer from the morning uglies. In fact, after two days of dreading the brunet's mooning eyes and shy smiles, sleep actually served to make him more bearable. In repose he lost the timorous manner, the awkward bearing, gone were the adoring stares and stammered questions. Asleep, Schuldig considered, Matze was rather attractive.

 

The glitter of sunlight declared it was not an hour to be abed, but Schuldig had no intention of leaving his room - not when he found himself presented with such an alluring opportunity. As a professional in the field of indulgence, he made it a personal practice never to let an opportunity pass him by unexplored.

 

Determined to get as far as he could before Matze awoke and became insufferable again, the German stealthily reached across the arm barring his chest and began peeling back the sheets. Almost immediately the brunet groaned in protest, and Schuldig smirked as the arm was removed from his chest to swat absently at his own blanket-thieving hand. The smirk swiftly melted into a grimace when he saw that Matze was completely clothed but, almost immediately, a pleasant idea entered his scheming head.

 

With an anxious hand, he gently reached for the zipper of Matze's pants, fingers dancing in the air greedily before landing, conscious of the delicacy his plan required. Killing - and consequentially being shot at - for a living was by no means conducive to restful sleep: relaxing for even a moment was a mistake seldom made twice. Whether he knew it or not, Schuldig's kitten was an assassin, and nothing was more certain to ruin his fun than receiving a reflexive punch between the eyes.

 

Shooting a warning glance at the sleeping boy as though he had been planning some violent gesture, Schuldig lightly fingered the zipper and pulled it so slowly he could hear each and every tooth reluctantly releasing its partner, the sound so promising he momentarily forgot to breathe. The spell was broken as Matze shifted in the bed, a moue of discontent marring his features as Schuldig watched, willing himself to stay completely still until his pet settled into sleep once more.

 

Slowly Schuldig raised himself onto his knees so he could work the button with both hands, but even the small disturbance had Matze stirring lethargically. He huffed inaudibly and spoke to the younger man's mind, even as his nimble hands began sliding Matze's pants off his hips.

 

It's only a dream.

 

Either the kitten was very tired or he hadn't been trained to resist mental suggestion, for he easily accepted the explanation and melted into stillness with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Schuldig took a moment to admire his own handiwork before returning to examine the band of bronzed skin he'd uncovered at Matze's waist. He was thin - too thin to be healthy, and certainly too thin for Schuldig's taste. He blamed it on the coma.

 

Curiously, he ran his thumb along the contour of the brunet's protruding hipbones - and almost jumped when his ministrations drew a small whimper from the sleeping boy. A wicked grin stretched across his face as he repeat the gesture, eliciting yet another quiet gasp. Without further deliberation, Schuldig decided he would treat his pet to a very exciting dream.

 

Turning so he was straddling Matze's legs, Schuldig began rolling the boy's sweater up, letting his fingertips lightly trail along the exposed skin as he went. Matze's lean body shivered with every touch, and Schuldig amused himself by drawing simple shapes with his fingernails across Matze's stomach and chest, eventually leaving his index finger to trace circles around a tan nipple.

 

Matze gasped loudly, his eyes pressed shut as though willing himself not to wake from such a pleasurable dream, and squirmed beneath Schuldig - enough that the German could feel the telltale bulge rising against the younger man's pants rubbing against his own half-hard erection.

 

With a devilish grin Schuldig lowered himself so he could attend one stiff nipple with his tongue, flicking wetly across the hardened nub. Almost immediately Matze began writhing wildly and Schuldig cursed as the brunet's chest slammed painfully into his teeth. He cupped his hand around his jaw, resisting the urge to bite his assailant while gifting him with a derisive sneer. No reaction.

 

Giving his jaw a last rueful massage, Schuldig briefly considered the situation. He had no intention of continuing his surreptitious molestation - it was dangerous, and he just wanted to get off. And while there was definite amusement in toying with his pet while he slept, humping an unconscious man was something Schuldig liked to consider far beneath him. It was time to end the game. The boy just needed a wake-up call.

 

No longer delicate, Schuldig tugged at Matze's pants to bunch around his knees and reached for the waistband of the younger man's boxers.

 

And hesitated.

 

A strange tingling made itself known at the back of Schuldig's mind, effectively freezing his hovering fingers and lustful gaze. The redhead leaned back for a moment, grinding his teeth in annoyance as he tried to destroy whatever it was that preventing him from simply `digging in.' Schuldig had, on rare occasion, felt the same strange twinge before (a twinge that most would refer to as `conscience'), but usually just put it down to hay fever; though, for once, the allergy seemed to have a distinct message.

 

Matze wasn't just another one-night stand. And Schuldig couldn't just send him packing after he'd had his fill. No matter how devoted the kid was, chances were he still wouldn't stand for waking up on the rough end of a pipe cleaning.

 

“It's not what you think. I tripped and just…fell in.”

 

Even Schuldig didn't find it amusing. He couldn't do it, he knew. He knew with a singular certainty that he would feel bad about it, whether from Matze's wide, watery eyes and contrite mannerisms, or the unavoidable knowledge that, under his care, Matze was a rather poor-spirited creature - nothing like the fiery Weiß assassin he'd once been.

 

He was undeniably angry at himself for holding back, but anger could be deferred, sensuous opportunities could not.

 

With an unaccustomed effort, Schuldig mentally changed tack, appraising the boy beneath him as a challenge, rather than a free lunch. Schuldig had no doubt about his superior talents in the bedroom. He was an impeccable lover - former partners had said as much, or at least thought as much. It was simply a matter of giving just enough so he didn't feel used, and taking as much as he could without getting caught.

 

With one hand, Schuldig methodically worked Matze's pants down to bunch at his feet, while his other firmly stroked Matze to hardness with almost businesslike efficiency. For a moment, Schuldig noticed how dark the younger man's skin was against his own, but only for a moment.

 

Then the redhead gathered his hair back, braced himself against the bed, and took Matze in his mouth. It had been a fair while since Schuldig had given a blowjob, but he refused to let the lack of practice diminish his ability. Breathing deeply through his nose, Schuldig hollowed his cheeks and sank rapidly down the shaft until his nose was nestled in coarse dark hair.

 

Reflexively his arm shot to Matze's abdomen, pinning him to the mattress as he bolted awake. Matze shook his head violently from side to side, perhaps trying to make sense of what he was seeing - and feeling. His thoughts oscillated between panicked flight and confused inaction; in the end, he simply sat, mouth agape, motionless except for the involuntary twitch of his muscles.

 

Truthfully, Schuldig had been hoping for a bit more noise: whimpers of submission or screams of downright ecstasy. As he continued to bob his head with experienced detachment, he made his decision and, cocking his head slightly, he shot the shocked Matze a look of pure devilment.

 

***

 

 

Lube's on the nightstand, kid. Schuldig told him, never ceasing his languorous suckling. For a dazed moment, Matze could only stare, the words foreign and unexpected. Then, by some miracle of the subconscious, he finally understood and reached, not without some trepidation, for the tube beneath the lamp.

 

Matze started when Schuldig swiftly snatched it from his hand, uncapping it with two deft fingers before dropping his hand below view. Matze turned his attention to Schuldig's mouth. The redhead was still holding his hair back with one hand, leaving Matze a perfect view of…

 

He felt his face glow red and flopped back onto the pillow, trying to take interest in the off-white ceiling, the cracks in the wall or the cobwebs in the corners.

 

Any attempts at distracting himself from the torment of his nether regions were forever lost when Schuldig removed his mouth and a slick finger was suddenly thrust inside him. He gasped sharply and attempted to wriggle away, but the prodding finger was insistent, and was soon joined by second. The feeling was strange to the point of frightening, and Matze was in the process of collecting himself to protest when a sudden flick of the questing fingers went straight to his groin and his vision exploded in stars.

 

***

 

 

Schuldig smiled to himself as Matze suddenly arched up on the bed, knowing he'd found what he'd been searching for. A few more strokes for good measure, and Schuldig withdrew his fingers, secretly gratified by the disappointed groan that escaped Matze's lips.

 

Wasting no time, Schuldig lined his thoroughly lubed erection with the puckered opening, almost sweating with anticipation, and, without further preamble, plunged straight in.

 

If there was any pain, Matze showed none of it, except to clutch tightly at the crimson sheets and throw his head back into the pillows. Everything about him screamed `virgin,' and Schuldig let the idea flutter aimlessly in his mind while he stopped to catch his breath. He shuddered as he drew out, hearing a tremulous groan from somewhere in the tousled sheets, but he didn't need any encouragement.

 

Schuldig began a deep, slow rhythm, an iron grip on Matze's hips changing the angle with each stroke. He couldn't see the other man through the cloud of hair surrounding him, didn't want to spare a thought for anything except the warm press of the narrow cavity enclosing him. A choked exclamation from the writhing brunet told him he'd aimed correctly and he held the brunet tightly to the spot, the repeated whimpers and shouts a sweeter than honey. He continued relentlessly, moving a hand to remove the hair that clung sweatily to his face, Matze's moans and his own harsh breathing a distant ambience compared to the thundering of his heart. Tension pooled rapidly in his groin and his thrusts became brief and rapid, even as he reached out to apply the same frantic pace to Matze's rigid member.

 

Schuldig only vaguely noticed the warm liquid running down his hand to mix with the cooling sweat, barely heard the strangled scream half-muffled by a pillow. A resonating roaring filled his ears and his locked arms shook as a shudder ran though his entire body. Breathing through his mouth with his eyes tightly closed, Schuldig rode out his climax in silence.

 

When the last tingles faded from his body, Schuldig opened his eyes hesitantly to the morning light and groaned. With a massive effort, he hauled himself up toward the headboard, only to be checked by a strange glance from his bedmate. Before Schuldig could decide through his clouded mind whether to say something or simply collapse, Matze made a decision of his own.

 

The brunet reached up, gently placing one hand on either side of Schuldig's flushed face, a distant and unfocused glaze in his eyes. More out of indecisive shock than any real curiosity, the redhead allowed his lips to be guided to Matze's, where he received a single kiss.

 

In retrospect, Schuldig couldn't be sure if it was a kiss at all: a soft press of warm lips to his own, scarcely enough to feel, moving slightly, as though he were speaking a great secret that could only be felt, not heard. He wasn't sure if it gave him goosebumps, or if he responded, or if it had truly happened at all. No, it couldn't have been a kiss. It might have been simpler if it was.

 

But Schuldig was not thinking of that when he abruptly pulled away, his expression shifting from amusement to annoyance to anger to confusion. Not that anyone noticed: following his last gesture Matze was again sound asleep, a small smile of contentment tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

Feeling strangely detached, Schuldig rose stiffly from his bed and went to the bathroom to wash up. When he emerged nearly an hour later, full of thoughts and feeling no less strange, Matze was still asleep, a tangle of tan skin, shaggy hair and crimson sheets. Mechanically, he replaced the boy's pants and pulled the blankets high about his neck.

 

And left.