Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Jealousy and Defilement ❯ Chapter 1, revision1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

-Tomorrow's Tears Arc - Chapter 1: Jealousy and Defilement -

Notes: A Weiß Kreuz fanfic; picks up after the show. The OAV's and Glühen do not happen. There is no end of people with evil actions and Weiß continues their missions. Schwarz has been quiet since the fall of Eszett's temple. Aya's sister never regained consciousness, actually her condition is worse due to all the occurrences of the last few episodes.

Warnings: Angst. May include: extreme violence, graphic sex, non-consensual sex, and foul language.
Pairings: ???/Omi, others

Summary: Celebrating Omi's 18th birthday. Everyone is in high spirits, especially Ken and Omi who look forward to a romantic evening. Even Yohji has been persuaded to be helpful. However, a mission is received, ruining the plans for a lighthearted day of fun.

Comments and suggestions are welcome.
acaciabloodshot@yahoo.com

---

Bright afternoon sunshine streamed through the Koneko shop window. Omi carefully set down two pots of daffodils onto the scarce space left on the wide windowsill, the blossoms bobbing from the motion on their study stems. The slim youth smiled cheerfully at the way the light sparkles in the drops clinging to the freshly watered plants.

From inside, the clear February day appeared mild, but a cold wind broke the illusion when a giggling group of schoolgirls jostled inside. "Can I help you?" Omi welcomed with a plastered on grin, dusting his hands on his apron and shivering from the chill on his bare legs. The chattering and squealing mob swallowed him whole.

Near the register, Aya kept an eye over the entire store like a vigilant doberman while he straightened a few lilies in a display. A memory of Ken awkwardly asking advice a few days ago about what he might get for Omi's birthday appeared in Aya's mind. ~Long pants, he remembered saying, I don't think he has any. ~

It had been Yohji, oddly enough, who had come up with the bright idea for Weiß to celebrate birthdays last year, about a month before Aya's birthday, and the other two assassins had latched onto the idea with enough enthusiasm that Aya had little choice but to go along with it. He frowned inwardly, as well intentioned as they all were, the day had made him think too much about the family he could no longer share such days with. They would never be allowed to have normal lives; why did the others insist on denying reality?

"Close the door," Aya barked at the irritating girls. The spring would pull the door closed, but it was too slow for the fiery one's impatience. The order only brought attention to himself, bringing some of the braver of the swarm in his direction.

Just when the door closed Ken comes rushing in, not bothering pushing it closed either. Aya sighed and picked up a watering can, no one was buying at the moment.

After athletically dodging his way through the girls, Ken reached Omi and handed over a plastic grocery bag, wrapping an arm around his friend. "Hey, Omi! Give this to Yohji. I'll take the rest of this shift." He didn't dare let it slip that it was Omi's birthday in front of the fangirls - sure it might inspire some to actually buy something, but it would cause a riot. Yohji had made that mistake before...the result had been comparable to the annual Valentine's Day ordeal.

"Thanks, Ken-kun!" Omi beamed at him sincerely then darted away quickly, relieved to get away from the busy shop.

---

At the sound of the door opening and shutting Yohji turned from leaning over the table, one palm resting on the rough-hewn surface, the other hand holding a spoon he had been using to finish smoothing creamy white frosting over a still warm chocolate cake. The scent of flowers swirled after the bright-eyed boy as he plunked a bag onto the table and pulled a chair, tucking one leg casually underneath him while the other bounced on the floor as he dug through the contents, placing them onto the table.

"Happy Birthday, bishounen. Whaaat..." A yawn overcame Yohji and he raised a hand to stifle it, dabbing frosting onto his forehead inadvertently. Only a little after 1:oo, too early in the morning to be up on a Saturday as far as the lanky playboy was concerned. "Try that game yet?"

"Not yet, I was going to..." Omi said, eyeing the cake.

"Go on then, my masterpiece isn't done yet, and if I catch you looking at porn instead...!"

"Yohji-KUN!"

"It's fine then, cause you're an adult now," Yohji said with a wink, unable to contain a laugh. Omi ran on downstairs, chuckling despite himself, mainly glad it was actually a game and not porn he'd been given like Yohji had been deviously hinting at for days.

---

Downstairs Omi was finishing off a wave of attacking mechs when all the guys came down, followed by the tell-tale clicking of Manx's heels. Omi hastily switched off the game and had a seat on the couch, Ken sinking down beside him heavily. Aya stood against a wall, arms folded. Yohji threw himself on a chair, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

The flickering light of the tape revealed that an organ stealing group is to be eliminated. "Blah blah, deny the dark beasts their tomorrows," Yohji finished with the tape in a false dramatic voice, earning a glare from Manx, tapping the manila folders in her arms irritatedly. "We've already got plans for tonight, honey," he continues. He was getting accustomed to the patented Fujimiya eye-of-death, Manx certainly couldn't faze him. Ken was simply glad of the lights still off, hiding a an ear-reddening blush.

"Oh, so you want to put it off a few days, party while more innocent children have their hearts and lungs stolen from their bodies? How about that, Bombay? I know what today is," she said, turning on him.

"A, ah no of course not, I'm in," Omi baulked briefly. Aya chimed in right after, and there was no longer much point in resisting.

Soon the details of the plan were settled, Aya and Yohji would infiltrate a party attended by high-ranking executives and politicians to take out the main target. Ken and Omi would head to the site of a warehouse left vulnerable to retrieve information and records.

Adjusting the hat and goggles over his head, Omi hopped into the chair by the computer to look over one last time the information he had spent most of the day digging up. He scraped a fork at the crumbs and smear of red lettering-icing remaining on the saucer from his third piece of cake. The others were similarly preparing themselves, checking gear, getting dressed. A sense of adrenaline gripped the house, like before every mission. Omi attached a new dagger that was from Aya to his shorts. "A backup, in case of close fighting," he had explained with short efficiency. No wrapping or bows, but it was thoughtful and Omi honestly liked it. Sharp pointy things were both fun and practical.

---

Downtown at the event, Aya and Yohji waited in a huge garage, where they could see the targets vehicle, for the end of ceremonies. They decided on staying away from the bustling spectacle and were disguised as valets. Yohji smoked while he complained about the cold, and the fit of the borrowed clothes. Aya glared in return.

---

Omi sat in front of the computer belonging to the bad ones with his own laptop placed next to it and set it up to download, knowing it will contain evidence that may bring down more of the dark beasts. Ken stood by idly fooling with a stapler laying on the desk, opening and closing it, poking inside. "Ken-kun, take a look in the filing cabinets."

"It'll all be the same anyway..." Ken looked slightly peevish but moved towards the files anyway.

"Never know." Omi answered, continuing to click at the mouse. Ken was just bored; there were no targets here, and no likely danger. There had only been one guard that Omi had darted before they were ever close. "They could've just sent a reconnaissance team to get this. We should be with Yohji and Aya..." Omi complained, not liking splitting up Weiß.

"Yeah," Ken agreed, nodding even with his back turned pawing through some files. "But you are the best at cracking into any system."

"This is easy stuff." Omi tapped his fingers, waiting on the download.

"Just because you're the great expert," Ken chuckled, suddenly behind Omi wrapping his arms around the back of the chair and its occupant.

Omi leaned back, unsurprised to find Ken leaning down to place a soft kiss on his lips. He reached up to twine his fingers in the fine dark hair. Ken stroked a warm hand over his chest, the box of the bugnuks mechanism felt a little awkward, but still he flushed and opened his mouth, tongue licking out at Ken's lips to encourage more.

~Maybe...ahhh...maybe today will be, it is a special day after all.~ Ken had been so...reluctant. Omi had to wonder if it was Kase that had wounded him so badly, but Ken would never talk about it. At least age wouldn't be a convenient excuse anymore.

Ken lifted Omi easily, a couple steps, and sat him onto a second desk, knocking small items out of the way. Omi quickly pulled him close, running his hands over Ken's back, murmuring his name. Ken's hands ran down his side, reaching under the hem of his shirt, their mouths met again. A breeze ruffled Ken's hair slightly. Omi moaned into Ken's mouth, tongues sliding over and under each other...

~...A...breeze?...~

Ken whirled around. Prodigy, the Schwarz telekinetic, stood in the doorway, giving off a menacing air despite his small stature. "Nagi-kun? What are you doing here?" Omi questioned, peering over Ken's shoulder. In response a potted artificial plant took a flying leap, bonking Omi's forehead soundly when he doesn't duck as quickly as Ken. "Ow!" Omi grabbed his head. ~Why?~

Snapping his claws out, Ken charged, thinking to get them out of the small enclosed space, prevent himself and Omi from being trapped in. Nagi let himself be chased into the larger room.

Ken stopped a few paces outside the room, looking back to Omi. Darts whizzed past him, but veered from their perfect line and were repelled to the side harmlessly. Ken rushed to attack again and was hit hard by what appeared to be empty air before he could touch the uniformed boy. Skidding across the floor, Ken heard Omi yelling his name and looked over as he picked himself up.

Omi raised his crossbow, when he suddenly flew backward, impacting a wall, the drywall crumpling around him. Nagi strode over to wrap his hands around Omi's neck, choking him viciously.

"You bastard!" Ken was ready to spring again, but before he could attack, he was picked up, his feet inches from the floor.

Nagi sneered at him. "Don't interfere."

Air rushed past when he was flung forwards, and for a dreadful moment he feared he was going to smash Omi, despite that Nagi was also in the way, but he swerved left, punched through the wall and crashed back into the office.

Omi's eyes bulged out and he tried to scream around the vice on his neck. ~KEN!!!~

Nagi continued to grip the slender throat, his telekinesis reinforcing his grip while the other hand rummaged through the loose jacket. Omi choked and jerked at the hand clamped like iron around his throat, but his struggling weakened gradually. The dim room grew dimmer, and his lungs burned. The crossbow dropped from hands gone limp. Nagi fished out all the darts and tossed them away one by one to clatter on the ground.

Omi was released to collapse swooning to the ground, panting breaths desperate for oxygen while Nagi worked with both hands now to push the jacket down and rip at the shirt, skimming over revealed flesh. Omi finally found breath to struggle, still somewhat incoherent, shoving at Nagi's shoulders. A sharp backhand bounced his head back into the wall, burning his cheek. A thin trail of blood dropped from his lip, eyes dazed. Nagi settled comfortably between carelessly sprawled legs, eyes shining with lust. Long fingers bit into shoulder and twisted in the loosely hanging ruined fabric. The firm pressure held the kitten's back to the wall and prevented him from tipping over. The other hand clutched a handful of the light hair, tilted his face upward. Immediately, Nagi's lips slammed into Omi's mouth, crushing and bruising further, a sweet metallic taste rushed into their mouths.

Omi's hand scrambled to the waist of his shorts shakily. Groaning, turned to whimpering at the tongue plunging far into his mouth and the fist twisting in his hair arching his head further back. Wrapping fingers tightly around the unfamiliar hilt, Omi shifted and lashed out. Nagi noticed the movement and jumped back quickly enough to avoid disembowelment, but the finely honed blade sliced a gaping line along the tailored gray uniform, a superficial gash dampened and darkened the cloth around the cut.

Using the wall for support, Omi pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, breathing hard and staring. Nagi stood, not looking at nor touching his wound, the hint of a frown darkened his features. His pretty prey required a bit more subduing.

It came so fast, the wind, and the sickening loud thud, Omi didn't have time or thought to so much as squeak when he collided into one of the metal columns that supported the lofty ceiling. The knife dropped away unnoticed in the collision. His jarred brain started to register the pain flowering through his body, and his weight slid downward when the motion stopped midair. Omi fuzzily wondered if another jolt might break his back when he felt the rushing vertigo of flight again.

He screamed, this time his left side slammed into another unyielding column. Something in his shoulder didn't withstand the impact; pain searing the length of his arm, along with the explosion of ribs snapping was overwhelming. His body crumpled to the ground a moment later, gravity allowed to reassert itself. Concrete ground broke the free fall ungently, causing burning lightning to arc again from his broken arm. Blood slid down the side of his face. His lungs refilled painfully and he cried out again as loudly as his damaged body can.

Time seemed to swirl hazy moments into minutes. Omi's small huffs and throbbing heartbeat sounded too loud, dampening light footsteps. His bleary gaze instinctively flickered upwards at a movement, his head rolling slightly to catch sight of Nagi stalking toward him. "KEN-KUN!," Omi yelled, voice cracking from the effort. A scowl twisted Nagi's features, though Omi didn't notice, not with his eyes squeezed shut. A hint of amusement glittered in Nagi's deep cobalt eyes - he imagined Ken-kun laying broken in the smaller room, his brains perhaps decorating smashed office furniture. The corner of Nagi's mouth twitched upward, just a bit.

The battered boy was lifted into the air on invisible hands, red and white sneakers dangling. Some coherent corner of his mind told him to die bravely, but he couldn't even look at Nagi. He was going to die, Ken-kun was probably going to die... ~and I'm about to get a rematch with the wall...~

Ripping and tearing sounds popped Omi's eyes open wide. His clothes shredded, falling away to the floor, most bits too small to even be called rags. The previously torn shirt and jacket were quick to fall away completely, the sturdy material of his shorts split and rend from the bottom up and splintered away with the boxers, the worn sneakers wrenched off in pieces. Omi hovered in the air, one half-torn sock the only scrap left clinging to his thin, bruised frame. Nagi was smirking, hungry eyes drinking in the sight. Then Omi was being set on the floor lightly, mouth agape and struggling to remain sitting up.

As soon as the telekinetic forces are faded away, Nagi was kneeling in front of him, easing him down the rest of the way onto his back. He moaned at the weight on his injuries, he tried to push back, but there was no strength to lift himself, not with the one arm that still worked at all. The floor felt cold on his bared skin, it felt good on his swollen cheek. His eyes were heavy. A shuffling sound, and the soft pwanf of clothes falling to the ground filled the still, cavernous room. Then bare skin against his, warm, someone straddling over him. He kept his eyes shut, attempted in vain to sink away from monstrous reality. Pain and sorrow overflowed damp eyelashes.

Long thin fingers brushed the side of Omi's face, fingertips sliding into blood-sticky clumps of hair, rolling his face to look upward again. "No..." Omi groaned, slowly focusing on the face inches from his own, felt the telekinetic's breath puffing slightly fast through parted lips. The face was blank again. He disentangled those bony fingers from Omi's hair and calmly regarded the blood, then licked at it, pink tongue flitting out to scrub the skin. Omi shivered.

Nagi pressed his damp fingertips to trembling flesh, fascinated by the fluttering pulse, and the little gasping breaths that moved the lean chest under his hands. A garish purple blotch caught his eye, standing out like a beacon on the pale skin...he ran his fingertips over the spot and lightly poked it. Nagi heard breath catch, and a low hiss. Another poke earned a whimper. He was rather thin, even though there are also strong muscles...he felt gingerly and found he could, in fact, feel a sharp edge of broken bone though the skin. "Ahhn...uhaa" His toy was beginning to whimper in earnest now. Such an adorable, erotic sound; it seemed to shoot directly from his ears to his hardening member. He rubbed a finger over the spot to hear it again.

Blinking momentarily in surprise, Nagi looked at the trembling hand that tugged ineffectually at his wrist. "S..stop.."

Nagi smiled."Who's going to stop me." The coldly spoken words made Omi lightheaded, his stomach churn. Nagi shifted, pinning Omi's annoying hand down with one hand, and let himself sit on top of the kitten. First Omi cried from the weight settling inconsiderately on his sore body, but it was the rigid heat pressing against his hip that made him freeze.

"Don't," Omi's voice picked up a frantic edge, coming faster. "H-how can you...! What, about our long night chats, r-remember?" He paused to stifle a sob, bittersweet memories filled his mind...exhausting nights of research made bearable by a pot of coffee and someone to talk to who understood the stress of a secret life...the loneliness of never knowing a real family...the laughter of griping about the quirks of their teammates...

"How can you betray our friendship like this!?" He choked out, just before Nagi roughly slapped him.

Omi turned red and shut his eyes again, shaking harder, damp cheeks shimmering in the dim light. "Somebody...save me...Ken" He only mumbled to himself, but Nagi's ears were keen to pick up the last bit, his eyes narrowed. "You are the one that betrayed me," Nagi snarled in a tone that made the blond visibly pale.

"You, are mine. What made you think you can choose him over me?" Omi didn't answer, the rationale behind this insane behavior had finally lodges itself firmly in his skull, and it was a big bite to chew.

As if to emphasize his ownership, Nagi looked smugly down at his kitten and ran his hand possessively over the smooth chest, this time pausing at a small pinkish knob, roughly kneading the soft mass hard, then pinching it crushingly tight. Fresh tears streamed down when he didn't let go.

"Ah! Nagi-kun, l-listen to me," battling to utter every syllable Omi tried negotiation desperately. Nagi leaned forward to taste a tear, catching one on the tip of his tongue. Salty, and a little bitter, he decided he enjoyed the taste of blood more. He leaned back for a better view, twisting the painful knob, and mindful to not let up the vise-like grip.

Omi writhed, groaning. "We're...kindred spirits, aren't we mmph!" Nagi held tighter to the wrist flinching in his other hand.

"We'll...work something out, right, Nagi-kun..." Nagi pulled upwards sharply, silently musing if it'd come off if he continued the abuse. Omi moaned sharply with gritted teeth, and managed to tug his hand free. He threw Nagi off-balance a moment when he reached unexpectedly towards his face. Shaking badly from the strain, he willed it to reach..."We..." his fingers tenderly cradled the smooth, pale cheek, "I know we can...understand each other, don't...have to be...enemies anymore."

Hesitatingly, Nagi released the mistreated flesh. Omi searched the mask like countenance for any sign of concurrence, taking a moment to catch his breath, and made a small gentle smile. "It'll be...alright," he finished, barely more than a whisper.

Popping one stained digit into his mouth, Nagi let the words roll around his mind. Memories rose up, of a sunny personality slowly rekindling feelings he didn't think had ever inhabited his stunted, forlorn heart, yet he had not suffered disappointment like this until he had been taught to hope. He shook his head, a sharp twinge and he heard a mental voice, ~He's lying. This is the only way you'll ever have him.~ Yes...surely that was correct, he considered, surveying the damage he'd already dealt the assassin, not to mention the unknown condition of the other, the one who had ruined everything by stealing what should be his. Omi would kill his own blood-kin for less; Nagi knew he has no chance.

This forgiving attitude could be nothing but a deception. Anger coiled tighter around his mind; Bombay had been taking advantage of him from the very beginning. ~Manipulative little slut~ "It's too late," Nagi hissed at Omi, who looked like he was ready to try to sink into the floor. Nagi's bangs billowed in raw energy for a few moments before emotions were reigned in.

Then both hands were exploring the boy's body again. Omi only cried, even when hands went over his legs and in between his thighs, or gripped the soft skin of his bruised ass. Seeing him so broken and helpless sent shockwaves of desire flooding through his body, increasing his impatience to take him. Omi's cries were quieting down and his eyes were distant.

~I couldn't even do anything when I was armed, what...can I do now...~

Nagi picked up Omi's legs, pulling one over the shoulder, Omi not wanting to face, turned his head to the side. Nagi drove a finger in, then more. Omi groaned and tried to pull away, making his wounds remind him of their presence again. Nagi worked cruelly, methodically until blood was flowing freely over his fingers and dripping off the back of his hand, ignoring Omi's screams.

"You're hurting me, stop!" Tearing, stabbing pain burned through his mind and made him thrash, horrified. "It hurts...please," he wailed despairingly.

Phantom hands held the arching body still. "Tsk tsk," Nagi chided, shaking his head and forcing a fourth finger in and out of the shuddering boy, "it wouldn't be any fun dry."

A squelching sound as fingers were removed from the blood slicked aching hole and both arms pushed quaking thighs to chest. Omi pleaded, hot tears of humiliation welling up and falling. "N-Nahhn..Nagi! ahhh, no! Pleassee...no..." Nagi let his eyes slip shut a moment, pleasure shuddering through his body at the muscles twitching under his hands, and the shameful begging. He leaned closer, the hot, dripping head of his cock brushing the side of the soft, small bottom, and pushed at the tightly cramped opening, "Nooo please, please..." The helpless despair in Omi's voice shot straight to the burning need jutting demandingly from between Nagi's legs. Another broken sob, small and defeated, brought unshed tears glistening in Nagi's eyes, even as another drop squeezed out of his twitching cock.

Nagi gulped and pushed forward jerkily. He heard himself groaning lowly, a tight, gripping wet heat surrounding and squeezing him hard. Nagi slumped forward, gasping and laying heavily on the body heaving under him.

Nagi leaned his head against the quivering leg beside his head, sucking in a deep breath to steady himself, and pushing the legs wider, drew back his hips and pushed back in firmly, sighing deeply as the little assassin cried piercingly. The lithe body strained and shook uselessly under him as he penetrated the clinging, blood soaked velvet again.

Omi's fingers clawed at the floor uselessly. "No, No!! Ah..hh, nooo" He panted and whimpered painfully through clenched teeth in between hiccuping sobs. Tight and tearing, searing shafts of agony stabbed from his ripped opening to his stomach with every thrust. His head lashed from one side to the other, pleading faded into agonized keening wails as the torture went on relentlessly. Nagi moaned throatily, rocking harder and harder, roughly jolting the injured kitten into the floor, paying him back for the stinging line cutting across his naval. The shrieking struggles made Nagi shiver, every nerve tingling, throbbing lustfully.

---

Schuldig snagged his lip and bit down to stifle a groan. Crawford had been right, as was his annoying habit, but no matter, Schuldig was actually glad the tight-ass prick had ordered him out on short notice to follow Nagi. He peered with slitted eyes from his seat in the jumbles of rafters and ducts overhead. Too dark to see well, but much of the sound echoed eerily in the large room, as if the still air itself was disturbed. He didn't bother to strain his ears; every intimate detail...panting gasps...wet itch of hot tears on flushed cheeks...hazy view of a sickly thin torso pale as moonlight...

The redheaded telepath ghosted a hand over his throbbing bulge. Everything was his to take, clearer than a big screen theater from the mind streaming it so loudly. Nagi's mental shielding was holding up patchily at least, but glimpses were slipping out more and more of a view that Schuldig much appreciated. Anytime his resolve threatened to waver, Schuldig ever so delicately found him more reason to continue, some motivation to goad him on with. He had to be careful not to alert him to his presence and risk flustering Nagi into stopping the display he was so enjoying.

Schuldig leaned back against a round pipe, squeezing the swollen ache straining under slacks too tight and swearing mentally. Unlike Nagi, he wasn't limited to only the mundane senses. He could sense directly the terror and hurt beating through the blond's mind, the humiliation searing his consciousness, flashes of worry for his teammate piercing through like arrows. Most would give up by now, but it would seem assassin kittens are a stronger breed. Maybe it was the training that forced him to keep trying against the hopeless. Even now Schuldig could feel Bombay's mind floundering for any defense, but his mind was tearing at the seams, breaking, something, everything, shattering and being pulled together again by nebulous threads to be smashed again, ground into dust. Sturdy little threads of strength, of hope were being stretched to the limits, twanging almost audibly in the telepath's mind when little pieces snapped, what was left screeching and twisting under increasing burden.

This wasn't honey Schuldig was tasting, sliding thick over his mind. Honey suddenly seemed as rich and sweet as tap water. This was ambrosia, and he was drowning in it.

---

~Failure, I've completely failed him!~ The thought circled round and round his mind as Ken drug himself forward, sharp spikes of panic striking though him, putting his teeth on edge.

~How long have I been out? Are the other Schwarz here? Should have, should have contacted the others right away.~ His phone was now smashed and useless from his fall, and no one would suspect anything wrong soon enough. With every movement blood dripped into his eyes from a gash on the forehead, hampering his vision, but the agonized howls of his teammate guided him, pushed him to continue even though he felt dizzy and hurt. Force of will wasn't enough to make his busted knee and twisted ankle support him, he had tried. His stomach protested his movements, but that wasn't important; whatever organ may be damaged wasn't as vital as getting his unreliable limbs under control. The only thing Ken needed was to help Omi, to reach him, and to tear the Schwarz to bloody pieces.

~I'm coming, hold on.~ He wanted to scream, to yell, but he knew sneaking was the only chance against the telekinetic. He pushed onward, crawling. Ken wouldn't let his mind think about what he heard, what he saw a minute later confirming what he didn't want to believe. Omi was crying and struggling under the cruel Prodigy, voice weak with despair and pain, growing increasingly hoarse. It made Ken's stomach lurch, feeling like it was trying to crawl under his liver to hide from the heart-wrenching sounds.

Nagi buried himself completely, cruelly stabbing again and again, holding the thin legs that kicked to no avail. Ken pulled himself within range, bloody tears stinging his eyes. Shaking with disgusted rage he launched into his one chance attack, bugnuks snapping into position, letting loose the growl that had been held back. "Grrraaahrr!"

Steel claws sunk deep into Nagi's sweat damp shoulder. A sensation like relief swept through Ken. Ready to wrench his claws in the downward arc that would turn the parallel stabs into long gashes that would let the Schwarz bleed out exponentially, a force slammed into his whole body, Nagi turned to frown at him. He was moved back, claws slipping out and lifted into the air. The telekinetic regarded him oddly, face flushed, thin damp locks cling to his face. Tears slipped down Ken's cheek. A gasp broke his silence, and he was suddenly hanging in the air suspended by one hand above his head still gripped by the telekinesis. "K-Kenn-kun..." Omi moaned out softly, eyes half-shut and glazed.

"Omi..." Ken mouthed. ~I'm sorry.~ He couldn't seem to find his voice past the lump in his throat. "Aaaaaah!" Ken's face twisted as he screamed, his hand being crushed. He jerked, feeling one bone after another snapping. His breath ran out, and he was thrown to the floor a distance away. He groaned, curling around his mangled hand for a moment before he was lifted again like a rag doll.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Nagi ignored Omi's mantra and threw the intruder at a stack of huge crates where he lay motionlessly.

"Hmph" ~Must be heavy.~ Nagi had expected the wooden mountain to topple showily. He directed his focus to the box at the top. It creaked and started to scrape forward an inch at a time.

"NOOOO!!!"

---

On the other side of town, a well-dressed man fell lifelessly to the ground, pouring blood into a spreading pool alongside two bodyguards. "I can't wait to take a shower; I tell you, the guy wearing this stinking uniform had no hygiene!" Yohji commented, lighting another cigarette. Aya merely grunted, sheathing his sword. It's just then that Aya's cell phone chose to go off, humming in his pocket.

Aya promptly answered, and apparently, someone on the other end was doing all the talking, with Aya listening in silence. Yohji edged closer trying to eavesdrop, noticing subtle but definite signs of tension appearing on Aya's face...A phone call that stresses a guy that just finished chopping down human beings like weeds and is perfectly normal, can not be a very good message at all.

Aya abruptly shut the call off, and rapidly punched in a familiar number. "Aya?" Yohji peeked over his sunglasses at the little led screen, recognizing the sequence Aya used. In seconds, the screen began to blink the resulting message at them, "NOT FOUND."

---

Crawford sat the phone down and swiveled in his plush chair to see out the huge window. A spectacular view of the night city greeted his eyes. He pushed his glasses up, pleased with his carefully laid plans. Weiß Kreuz was too amusing, and too potentially useful to get rid of just yet.

---

Omi bucked hard, bringing Nagi's focus back to the prey still impaled beneath him. Omi's wide blue eyes were glued on the other assassin. Nagi sighed, reached an arm down, and forced the sad gaze back to himself. "Here...here kitty..." Nagi purred at him. Slim fingers caressed the face too innocent and sweet to be a killer, brushed gently over the swollen blood-stained lips that trembled at the gentle touch, and a damp cheek. Omi blinked those beautiful eyes...even more beautiful full of tears like a sad ocean.

Eyes too fond of looking at someone else. Nagi's fingers twitched, tightening over the face, sweeping a finger over an eyelid. Omi stiffened apprehensively, holding a breath under the close scrutiny.

The fingertip jabbed inward without further warning, digging forcefully past clenched lids. Omi yelped and twisted frantically. "You are mine," cooed Nagi reassuringly. Blood surged around the invading digit and trickled down the side of his face.

"Uahhh!" Omi cried and a hand snapped up, clawing wildly at the arm over his face. Nagi's power harshly slammed Omi's hand back to the floor. He coldly regarded the set of red scratches welting upon his forearm. Omi whimpered continuously, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Feeling a tugging on his fingertips Omi tried to turn to see what was happening, but it was outside his range of vision. The tugging became painful, yanking at the fingernail of his index finger, and still the power held his hand flat to the floor. Omi moaned fearfully, conjuring up images of a fingerless hand. ~Myhandmyhandmyeye...HOW will I shoot with no fingers...~

The steady pull increased, and Omi struggled panicking. Nagi concentrated on gripping the small surface and holding down the squirming boy. The nail slowly bent upwards, pulled away bit by bit. The kitten's stifled groans made him ache to relieve his yet to be satisfied desire. The nail tore off with a little arc of blood when it skittered across the floor. He continued declawing the next finger as well, wrenching one corner first and tearing it completely off with a final decisive tug. Omi shuddered forcefully then was still and quiet.

Nagi slapped him, with no response. "Wake up." Another slap...Nagi's brows contracted closer together, and he hit again explosively. Omi snapped awake, looking up at him, an indrawn shaking breath, terrified...completely adorable. "We're not through yet," Nagi smiled at him, gripping his legs once more, spreading him wide and ignoring the pain in his damaged shoulder. Nagi groaned, he could feel the trembling even around his cock, the reddened opening tensing nervously around him, making some fluid seep from the tip buried deep inside.

Nagi pounded into him with the rush of desire held on edge too long. His kitten screamed prettily for him, throaty and raw, flailing wildly for any leverage, sobbing plaintively. Nagi panted erratically, hot blood flowing heavily, he rammed in again, and again, faster. He wanted more, more of that hot blood running down his legs, more helpless screams.

Omi arched up, crying pitifully. Nagi stabbed again into the vulnerable, raw hurt between Omi's legs, thrusting relentlessly while he collapses and writhes. "Ahwahh, pleeahhhaah!" Ragged sobs in between broken screams. Nagi rocked him into the floor harder, pushing the knees closer to the tear-streaked face, watched every detail of his features contorting when he plunged cruelly into that sweet defenseless hole.

Omi's thrashing weakened, but he couldn't stop crying. It ached miserably all over, his struggles only served to aggravate his wounds, but he couldn't lay still. The frightened sobs only make the sharp pain dance through his chest whether he tried to hold it in or let it out.

The heavy scent of blood was almost nauseating, but erotic. Another punishing thrust ripped carelessly the too-small body. Nagi trembled on the edge, thrust, clenching and bruising the tender flesh squirming under his hands. Thrusting again, shooting white hot liquid deep and moaning heatedly.

Withdrawing to sit tiredly next to him, Nagi toyed casually with the limp organ, irresistibly vulnerable. Omi timidly tried to pull his legs together, but Nagi laid a hand on his thigh, knocking them apart.

"Didn't you enjoy it, my kitten?" Nagi panted out, rubbing his thumb roughly over the tender slit at the end. The boy whimpered moaning with every shaky breath. The hand lowered, and he pressed three fingers into the loosened hole.

"Ahhmmm" Omi whined.

"Does it hurt?" Nagi quizzed mockingly, voice steadying. He tortured the ravished spot until Omi made another cute sob for him. Nagi removed his fingers, smeared the blood across the front of Omi's thigh, and leaned close to his face. There was something darkened about the eye that stared absently, the other shut and caked with blood. They had so much sparkle not so long ago. It made Nagi feel smug.

Nagi stood up, and was putting his clothes on. "We will meet again...so I can fuck you some more," Nagi laughed at him, straightened his clothes and left without looking back.

Omi laid for a moment, and unsteadily started to move. He crawled unthinkingly, almost falling flat several times over the small distance of a few yards. He didn't think he could get up, but his mind was numbing, and he started to drag along again. He dropped, shivering and sweaty next to where Ken still lay curled on his side.

"Ar-are...you ok?" Omi asked in a cracked voice, shaking Ken who merely fell over onto his back and refused to wake up. "Ken-kun...help me..." Still no response; Ken was unrousable and Omi already felt the ground was swaying under him.

Omi's bare skin felt so cold, and disgustingly wet and sticky. His gaze went to the ugly jacket around Ken's waist..."Ken..." he reached and laboriously untied the sleeves. His bloody raw fingertips slowed his progress, flinching back from touching anything, leaving red dots on the sleeves. Finally, with a small cry of triumph he tugged at the untied jacket, but it didn't budge, trapped under Ken's hips.

"...Ah..." Omi blinked slowly, he hadn't thought that far ahead. He curled up next to Ken's side to soak in whatever warmth he could. Unconsciousness caught up at last, as if only now realizing the young assassin was beyond his limits, wrapping darkness around his mind like a blanket, closing out the world of cold and pain.