Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Guilty Pleasures ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Guilty Pleasures (3/?)

Author: Phaedra

Email: pkabyssinian@yahoo.com

Rating: ?? Warning for language, but that's it for now.

Pairings: Schu x Aya. Maybe, eventually, Schu x Aya x Yohji?

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I own shoes, but not Schu…. does that count? If you sue me for misrepresenting the characters I'll give you my shoes. =)

Comments are loved and cherished and help me to write. OK, the last part is a lie, but I still greatly appreciate any and all feedback.

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[Schuldich, present]

I wake to an almost unbearable warmth behind me. It feels nice and I stretch both body and mind luxuriating in the feeling. I reach my telepathy out like a cupped hand to wrap the person behind me in a bubble that will let me know who they are. It's been a while since I've awoken with no memory of who I dragged to bed the night before. Crawford's gonna be pissed.

Nothing. There is absolutely no resonance with the person behind me and that baffles me. I lick my lips and decide that my ability to read my night visitor must be scrambled by the overwhelming pressure on my bladder. I need to piss and I need to do it now. I stopped wetting the bed when I was five and I see no reason to return to it. Well, under the right circumstances it might be hysterical but I don't think this is one of them.

With the painful need to urinate decided upon I open my eyes to face a blank white wall. Oh yeah. I've been a bad boy and mommy has sent me to my room with out any dinner. Fuck, I'm still tied up by those bastards from Kritiker. Well, no longer literally tied up, but still. I'm not noticing any bondage instruments of any type and decide to test my luck. There's gotta be a toilet in here somewhere. Right? Please??

I roll over and I think the pee in my bladder has turned to ice. At any rate I'm no longer worried about wetting the bed. I find myself face to face with Aya. What the fuck is he doing in my bed? Or am I in his bed? Does it matter? We really aren't supposed to be cuddling together.

I try to align the facts from the night before into place. What do I remember last? Oh, yeah, cross wiring that bitch guard's mind so she'd give me her keys and kill the lights. And then? Aya appearing out the darkness like I'd summoned a demon. I'm assuming that the charming boy dragged my sorry ass back here… but why is he in bed with me? I was out of it, I'm sure of that, but was I that out of it? I really don't think that the emotional icicle in my bed would fall for me fluttering my eyelashes at him and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes. Well, maybe he would. It's the quiet ones that always surprise you.

My talent is working well enough that I know the luscious body beside me is awake, but I'm still not getting any real readings. I pretend to not know and sit up in bed and immediately see the porcelain toilet and decide to make a dash for it. Waste not, want not! As carefully as I can I slide out of the bed and rush over to the white bowl, arrange myself correctly, and nothing.

Great. My bladder has decided that even though I'm ready to burst it wants to be shy with a guest in the room. I try closing my eyes to see if that will help. Still nothing. All seven-hundred little gods of humor must be in the room watching and laughing. The idea actually makes me crack a smile.

"Are you going to go or just stand there?" a deep voice rumbles from behind me. Directly behind me.

I admit it; I give a high, breathless, girly scream and then my bladder lets go. Wonderful fucking timing! Guess it gives credence to the phrase 'having the piss scared out of you', who knew I'd find potty humor so amusing? Now that I've managed to decorate the wall and floor a little I manage to aim the rest of the contents into the bowl. I am feeling decidedly sour towards Aya as he is still standing behind me. I hope he's getting a lovely view of my cock as I take a whiz, but I'm not quite sure why he would be interested. Is my dick being out some sort of security breach? I consider the possible comebacks to that and decide to leave it alone, no need to be overly foul in the morning.

"You're turn," I offer as I turn away from the toilet. I fall back onto the bed as Aya begins his business with amazing ease and accuracy. Bastard.

"So, as much as I like waking up next to a gorgeous red-head, may I ask why we shared sleeping quarters?" I ask as non-chalantly as I can. One amethyst eye peeks at me over his shoulder as he finishes his morning urination. With a graceful economy of motion little Aya is hidden from view and he turns to face me.

"Schuldich, you are a smart man. I will not insult you by trying to mangle your language and I would appreciate it if you would speak to me only in Japanese. You must know that my organization sees value in you and needs your co-operation. I am here to ask that you comply and try to work out an… equitable… bargain," Aya answers, his eyes holding me, trying to bore his sincerity into me. He does quite a good job of it; I'll give him that.

"Depends on how much you have to bargain with, Aya-kun. And what you ask of me," I tell him in my best Japanese. I give him a 'star pupil' smile and I think he's trying to suppress an answering grin.

"I have unlimited resources and the only person I have to answer to is Persia. As long as you are, and remain, helpful I can safely say that we will have free reign with our negotiations," he tells me. He has moved to sit at the small, square table near the door. I take a moment to view the room - the bed I woke on, the toilet across from it, the table, two chairs, and a small desk opposite the toilet. I nonchalantly stand and walk around the tiny room, taking in the surroundings.

"Well, I would have to say that I would need better accommodations. I'm used to the finer things in life, you know. Now, what would I have to give you for that?" I offer doing my best to mentally read him. Aya is a blank sheet to me and I'm starting to feel very nervous about that. I stop my prowl around the room when I reach the exit door and lean against it, like I'm a guest who can leave at any time.

"How much finer? We can, if given time, create an environment within this facility that will be very similar to a high-rise apartment. With all the amenities," he tells me, still in that dead pan voice.

"I suppose that would be sufficient, as long as I get some input on the floor plans?" I tell him easily. What I don't say is that he has me intrigued enough that I might actually stick around for a bit instead of bolting at the first opportunity. How sneaky of him.

"I would like to ask for you to submit yourself to batteries of tests, just ways for them to monitor you and see if they can come up with any physical reason for your abilities," Aya places his bargaining chip with skill and precision. I nod my agreement to his almost pitiful lack of any real content to what Kritiker wants.

"Later on, if you are amenable, I would also like for you to discuss your talent and answer any questions that the doctors need answered," Aya tells me his iris eyes fixed on me, waiting to see my reaction.

"I will agree under two conditions," I smile and his eyes become hooded and sharp. Ah, Aya knows that this will be our bone of contention.

"And what would they be," his voice is still carefully neutral but there is a faint undertone of disquiet and panic. I can almost see into his mind, enough to catch random emotions but not to read anything. I am on the verge of giving myself a headache by pushing too hard with my skills.

"One, that you will be my interrogator. I love the way you react," I tell him before blowing a kiss. His nostrils flare and I can tell he is holding himself back from commenting, I waggle a finger at him as a reminder that I am a 'guest' here.

"And the other?"

"That you submit yourself to a battery of tests so I can understand why I can't read you," I offer the information like it's a flower and he pulls back in shock. He can't fathom why I would offer such an important bit of intelligence into his keeping. Maybe I like to keep him off guard. I certainly like the shape his face takes trying to out guess me. Or maybe I did it because I really do think he's cute.

He lowers his head so I can no longer see his expression or the remarkable depths of his flower colored eyes. I'm sure that he's afraid to say yes, I can feel twinges of nervousness as well as a deep quiet within him. Ah, his mask is slipping! I 'heard' the word fate, as well as a feeling of inevitability. My own body feels heavy and languid, I know I will get my way and I am also surprised at the bright, ice-pick feeling that is hammering in my skull.

I concentrate myself fully on the man in front of me and his head raises. Our eyes clash and I imagine multi-colored sparks exploding from our fixed gaze. Slowly his head dips in agreement and he mouths a 'yes'. An image of Kudou bursts before my mind's eye and I wonder why Aya is thinking of him, and why are his emotions are now tainted with regret? There is certainly more going on in the Kitten's House than I am aware of!

I nod, more to myself than to him, before sitting down on the rumpled bed. I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger hoping vainly that it will stave off the mother of a headache that is building. I feel fuzzy and disconnected, I knew I shouldn't have been pushing as hard as I was.

I never hear Aya move, but suddenly his hand is warm and resting on my shoulder. I force my pain-spiked head to raise and look at him through a red haze.

"Are you all right? You don't look well…" he trails off, his lean face actually looks concerned. Concern. How long has it been since anyone has taken a genuine interest in me? I do my best to tamp down that thought before it leads to trouble.

"As well as can be expected. I get migraines sometimes. Can you shut off the lights?" I manage to force out between clenched teeth. The bright overhead lights have become swords that pierce my brain; the left side of my head feels like an over ripe fruit that has a rotten spot.

The lights click off and I fall gratefully onto the mattress. Even through the pain I notice the sharp, spicy scent that is Aya. I like it. I grin wolfishly before pulling a pillow over my abused head. It's too soon after waking for my body to let me sleep away my suffering, so I plan on laying here with a pillow over my head until the pain hits me so hard I can pass out. I feel Aya settle onto the bed next to me and I wonder what he's planning.

Surprise and gratitude war within me, I am almost overwhelmed by these feelings. Aya has started kneading the tight knots in my neck and shoulders in an attempt to lessen the pain. I have no idea if it will help or not, but it feels good. The pain is making me moody and I want to cry that someone is taking an interest in my welfare and is willing to try to help me.

OK, so I know that his motives aren't altruistic, hell, he's probably being paid to be nice to me. But right now I don't care, as long as he doesn't stop rubbing. I think that at this moment I would sell my soul if he asked for it.

With careful hands I feel him moving my hair out of the way so he can have better access to my neck. Part of me wishes that he would do this when I wasn't ready to scream from the pain in my head. Silly me, I'll only get myself in trouble if I keep up that line of thought! I am surprised by the fact that the massage is actually helping the throbbing, as I notice this the rest of my body begins to relax. When my body feels like it has liquified Aya rises off the bed and I want to whimper.

Overwhelming shock strikes again as his hands return, this time scented with lavender oil. The earthy scent is very light, not enough to mix with the pain and make me feel nauseous, but it helps to further relax me. I think I might be able to speak without making things worse.

"Thank you. Where'd y'learn to do this?" I whisper. For a moment I am afraid that my words are lost in the bedding since Aya doesn't answer.

"My sister gets headaches like this ever since she woke up," he answers simply and as lowly as he can. His voice rasps over my skin making me shiver.

I am surprised that he doesn't seem to harbor a grudge against us for spiriting her away. He seemed rather pissed about it at the time, I could feel his hatred battering at my psyche as we stole her from under Weiss' nose. Not something I thought he would forgive in a rational amount of time. I want to ask about that but I'm afraid to, I don't want to risk this quiet bubble that was somehow created around us.

"I don't hate you for it anymore. I think what you did might have helped her, she woke up as soon as she left that place," he offers as if he is the telepath. Once again I wonder if he doesn't have some latent ability that resides hidden deep within. I try to nod my head but I'm not sure if the abbreviated motion is translated properly to him.

Aya stretches out on the bed next to me, only one hand remains on the nape of my neck still rhythmically squeezing the muscles there. I don't even bother trying to use my talent, his body language says enough. For some odd reason he is feeling comfortable around me, which strikes me as totally wrong - aren't I supposed to be the bad guy here? Maybe his security stems from the fact that he is my jailer and because of the pain I am as weak as a newborn kitten.

"I wonder if she has abilities like you, not telepathy, but something else. She seems to have this sense about places; sometimes her knowledge is… uncanny. Somehow she just knows things and I have no idea how to understand her or her abilities," Aya tells me and his voice has a hitch of frustration in it. The pain has calmed to a dull roar and I feel like I might be able to make it through it.

"She had to have had something special about her if Estet wanted her," I tell him, hoping that he can both hear me and that my words will make sense to him. My chest feels tight, a reaction I am not willing to deal with now. I close my eyes and try to focus my attention on my breathing. Following my breath helps to further quiet both mind and body. I almost feel sleepy.

The soft rubbing has stopped but Aya has yet to remove his hand. My skin pricks deliciously as his hand slides down my back, directly over my spine. He stops when his hand reaches the small of my back. I wonder if he thinks I'm asleep? I don't dare reach out with my telepathy to try - it will most likely be pointless and I've already pushed as hard as I dare today. No need to relapse into the headache.

His touch is feather-light as his fingertips dust over the myriad of scars on my back. It's fairly obvious which ones I earned in my line of work and which ones I didn't. My back muscles twitch involuntarily as he prods one of the bruises left by Blondie.

"How do you see yourself? Do you think you are a dark beast? Or do you think you are doing some sort of good in the world?" he growls, his voice shaking with barely contained anger. I wonder if it's at me. I roll onto my side and he doesn't move his hand so it slides over my body as I turn.

"Personally, I'm an opportunist. I get to work with people who won't question me about anything, I can pick and choose jobs, and I have a measure of protection from certain groups who would either like to kill me or use me. I don't have to give a damn about anyone but myself," I tell him with a certain amount of disgust. Who the fuck is he to question my motives? Did I mention that I get moody when my head hurts?

"I was simply curious. We know nothing about you except for the fact that you are our enemies… and now I am contracted to keep you safe and ask for your cooperation. You have been very courteous so far, I just wondered how you see yourself," Aya answers, his voice has deepened from before, it almost sounds like a bedroom voice. I feel goose-flesh puckering along my arms from it. Damn, I wonder if the man is aware of just how sexy he is?

"Perhaps you should go and start making plans for better living arraignments?" I prod, in an effort to get the sinful thoughts that are forming to dissipate. I will not try to fuck my enemy. I will not.

"Hmph. I will have them draw up blue prints for your approval," he tells me, his voice sounding annoyed. I wonder if he trying to get to me in other ways? Is Kritiker paying him to seduce me? Irrationally, anger bubbles within me and I feel like prodding at him.

"Will you continue to be sleeping with me? If so, tell them to get a larger bed, I like to spread out in my sleep. I'm not into clingy bed-mates," I tell him in a sing-song voice. I certainly regret the door slamming; the noise reawakens my headache. But it's nice to know that I can get under his skin with my teasing.