Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Guilty ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: Neither Schu nor Kudoh belong to me, sadly.

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I'm not crazy.

Despite whom I associate with, I'm really not. Everyone just assumes that since I'm a part of Schwartz and that I just happen to get along with Farfarfello that I'm nuts.

Shit, the only thing that really sends me off the deep end is the voices. No, I don't have little `Hansels' or `Gretels' in my head telling me to burn things. I hear what everyone else is thinking.

And holy fuck if that isn't goddamn annoying.

I have shields but it's exhausting keeping them up all the time. But, it is either that or I'll know what every single person in my general vicinity is thinking. I do not need to know that so and so is cheating on her husband and that little Johnny-sunshine like to think about fucking little boys.

Disgusting.

So, I have a few choices. Keep my shields up and get a migraine. Antagonize Nagi until the little bastard puts me through a wall. Go nuts with everyone else's jumbled thoughts. Or, sit here and drink myself into oblivion.

Scotch is looking damn good right about now.

I haven't drank enough for there to be a pleasant buffer between my thoughts and the hum in the back of my head. I wish there was something more potent that wouldn't kill me if I drank too much.

Raucous laughter erupts down the bar and I'm tempted to liquefy their brains. I hate people. They think loud enough, why do they have to laugh that fucking loud too?

Antagonizing Nagi is looking good at this moment.

And even better now that he's walking in.

I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eyes. He just shimmers and glows.

And he's the enemy.

Why the hell is it that the best looking man in Tokyo is my enemy? What in the hell did I do to deserve this shitty life?

Yeah, I don't know either.

From my position, I can see him practically gliding through the crowd to the bar. The man is hot. He has his hair down, golden locks framing his handsome Eurasian features. His shirt. Well, he might as well not be wearing one considering the sheer black t-shirt he is wearing hides nothing. It just clings to him, trying to have some purpose. And his pants are a sin, low riding and as tight as humanly possible.

Balinese is hotter than anything in the room. City even.

I want him. Fuck drinking myself into oblivion. I'd rather have his as company, me inside him or even him inside me. It doesn't matter. There is just one problem. He's the enemy.

He's sitting at the bar down from me. I stand, throwing caution and Brad's orders to the wind, and make my way to him. The seat to his right is empty. A fake redhead is already trying her best to get into his pants from his left. I slide into the empty seat.

"I have some imported vodka back at my apartment. Care to join me?" She is practically drooling over him. He doesn't seem to give a fuck. Points for him.

"You aren't my type." Brandwunde.

I watch the woman get flustered and then finally leave. Balinese is now focusing his attention on his drink. I can't read his mind but then again, I never could.

Sounds strange, right? The first time we fought, I freaked out afterwards. Some of Esset could block me out but I always felt their wall. I could even have broken their walls down if I felt so inclined. From him, there isn't a wall. I get this trickle of emotion but nothing else. I know he isn't brain dead. You only get that kind of nothing from people with brain injuries. I don't think Kritkir would keep around a disabled assassin, and you can just see the intelligence in his eyes.

"But you are." He's turned those intelligent green eyes to me. I can see by the way he's sitting that he enjoys what he sees. Those beautiful eyes of his drift down my body; slow, savoring.

I don't blame him. I've dressed to get noticed, if even to the mildest degree. Shit, you get noticed more in bars and clubs if you dress shitty. I've got a bandana on to keep my hair out of my face. A woman once asked if I got the idea from Johnny Depp in that pirate movie. Tch, I did it before his rich ass did. Snug jeans and a white button down shirt too. I don't look nearly as delectable as he does.

I give him a slow, what I'm hoping is sexy, smile. He smiles back and puts a hand on my cheek.

Suddenly, there is nothing. Nothing at all. The noise is my head is completely gone. For once, all there is are my thoughts. Emotions. I can feel what he is feeling, faintly.

I jerk back from him, my eyes wide. "Fuck mich..." I stumble off my stool. "What are you?" The noise is back.

Balinese looks puzzled. "I wondered why you couldn't get into my head. Ken and Aya told me what it felt like. Like I was supposed to agree with them on the sensation." He shakes his head.

"Null feld," I whisper. It all makes sense. I was told about them when I was younger, shortly after I gained control of my gift. They are rare. More rare than a powerful precog. "Brad never sees anything about you..."

I suddenly feel like this situation is wrong. He's the enemy although I do feel his lust drifting to me. I'm unarmed. There's always my speed but if he tries something, I've no safety net.

It must have shown on my face because Balinese is looking like I've offended him.

"I'm not your enemy," he says like it's a fact.

"You are Kritkir. I'm Esset. Enemies."

He tries again. "I'm unarmed."

I look down at his wrist, half expecting him to be lying.

He isn't wearing his watch.

Shit. Now what do I do? Options again. I'm sick and fucking tired of making choices tonight. I'm starting to get a headache from everyone's thoughts and shouts. "I better go." I wonder if Nagi is still up. Maybe he can knock me out.

I'm almost across the room when Yohji stops me. He has my bare wrist. Silence floods my mind, save for my thoughts and the tickle of his emotions. I know without asking what he wants. Me.

"Balinese."

"Yohji."

"Yohji," I repeat.

He's leading me out of the bar. I don't protest. Why should I? It feels so good not to have other people's thoughts in my head.

We reach his car and he's pressing me against the side of it before I even realize it.

"What do I call you? Mastermind doesn't seem right." His lips are right next to my ear.

I swallow. "Schuldig." Thinking better, I whisper," Schu."

My palms flatten against his car as he leans forward. I can feel his lust for me. It's consuming. He wants me and I want him.

"Schu..."

My fingers tangle in his blond hair and I pull him close for a savage kiss. His hands are suddenly everywhere, moving over my chest and playing with my belt. "Yohji..."

I push his shirt up and smooth my hands over gloriously tan skin. Smooth, perfect.

Everything is happening so fast. He opens the car door, setting the seat back. I slide inside and settle myself into the seat. He climbs in after me, straddling my waist. The door clicks shut behind me.

There's a moment when he just watches me and I just watch him. Then we are together, pressing our bodies as close as we can. His hands are tugging the buttons of my shirt apart as quickly as he can.

My hands slide up his chest. His lips press against mine. It's all tongue and passion. My hands glide lower, opening his pants and diving inside.

Yohji's hard in my hand. Harder than hard. Everything seems to slow down then. My hand's gripping his cock. His hands are there, pushing my shirt off.

"I want to fuck you," I manage. I know my accent is heavier, thickened by lust.

He grins and lets go of my shirt. The glove compartment drops down and he rummages inside before producing lube and a condom.

For once, I can't hear what my lover wants. I have to read his actions and know. His emotions, movements, speak volumes. I can feel his emotions, vaguely. Lust. Longing. Need.

He pushes himself off my lap and begins the process of trying to get out of his pants. You can tell he's trying to hurry but his pants are tight. Sinfully tight.

I laugh and he stops to look at me. He's confused and I shake my head. I reach out and help him out of his pants. "No underwear?"

"Would've come off anyway." He presses the tube into my hand.

I didn't ask if he had been on the prowl tonight. I knew he had.

I open the tube and squeeze out enough so that when I reach between his legs, my fingers slide right in. I push my fingers inside, fast. Yohji squirms. I twist my fingers. His body arches and he moans. Damn he's beautiful like this.

He's panting and his head is tilted back. I run my other hand up his body, over his neck. My fingers curl around his beautiful neck.

There's a tense moment where neither of us move. He's still panting but he's watching me now. I don't want to hurt him. My light grip releases, my hand trailing back down his body. I pop the buttons on my jeans, tugging the worn fabric open. I twist my fingers inside him again.

"Schu," he moans. Yohji's hands move to help me out of my pants, pushing the fabric out of the way.

I'm so fucking hard it hurts.

He's staring at my cock like he's hungry. I swallow hard.

Moments later, he's got the condom and is rolling it over my erection. Fuck, I'm hard. His hands fall away and he's got the lube now. He spreads it over my cock with slow strokes.

"Fuck." I close my eyes and focus on anything but what he's doing to me. I touch his prostate with my fingers.

He freezes. "Fuck me, Schu." He sounds far away, strained.

I pull my fingers out and he's already sliding up my thighs. Yohji holds himself over me as I prepare to guide my cock inside of him.

He catches my eyes and grins brightly. Then sinks down. Fast.

"Fuck!"

Yohji gives a strained rumble that is probably supposed to be a laugh. I'm doing everything I can not to come.

Without warning, he sets a fast pace. Up. Down. Up. Down. In. Out. It's driving me insane. One second, my cock is clenched inside a velvety tight heat. The next, it is exposed to the temperate air. "Yohji," I hiss.

He moves faster. I can see the tension riding his body as I ride him. One of my hands clenches his hop. The other grips him, stroking in time to his movements.

I don't know whether to watch where my cock disappears inside of him or to watch his face. I tilt my head up and his lips find mine. We kiss, passionately, and it seems like forever before we gasp in air.

My hips lift off the seat as I thrust into him as he slams down. I can't help it. Yohji's so hot and he feels so good around me.

We become frantic, thrusting and fucking each other to the best of our abilities.

Yohji's body tightens painfully around my cock seconds before his warm seed splatters over my hand and chest. He shouts as he comes. I fight hard not to follow him.

It's inevitable. I grip his hips and slam home once or twice more. I gasp, my body arching up, pressing into and against Yohji as much as I can. His arms are around me as I come inside of him.

I can't speak, just wrap my arms around him in return and sink back against the seat.

I'm glad I made the choices I did tonight.

"Fuck, that was good," he murmurs after a few minutes. "I haven't been fucked like that in years."

I let go of him so that he can let my spent cock slide out. He takes care of the condom.

"Years," I agree.

Yohji chuckles for a moment then is serious. "We have to do this again."

I wish I could read his mind. "What? You want to be fuck buddies?"

He makes a face that tells me he wouldn't have put it that way. "We could `relieve' each other's `tension'."

I snort. "Fuck buddies, Yohji."

"Asshole." He leans forward for another agonizingly good kiss.

"Jackass," I reply when he pulls away.

Maybe this will work. I'd love to take advantage of his gift and lose myself in his silence when I can. And the sex is fan-fucking-tastic.

"Next Friday. I'll meet you at the bar."

I hear it but it doesn't register right away. I guess we are going to try this. "Alright. As long as our teammates don't find out."

He rolls his eyes. "I'll do whatever the hell I please."

At least he can.

I'm still sane. I just work for fucking lunatics but I've got to be losing it now. I've just agreed to be fuck buddies with the enemy.

I'm not crazy, yet.

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End.