Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Predator ❯ Predator ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Note: This is a little one-shot I wrote to get me back in the swing of things. I haven't written anything I a while. Life got in the way. For those of you who are fans of my story “Mind Games And Coffee”, don't worry I have already started working on it again. I wrote this to get reacquainted with the characters. This is actually loosely based on a dream I had. A very strange dream. No more Ramen before bed for me.

Enjoy everyone.

 

 

German Words:

 

Ja - Yes

Mein kleiner Liebhaber - My little lover

Mein Gott - My God

Scheiße - Shit

 

 

Predator

 

 

 

Crawford had left early in the morning before anyone else had woken up. Schuldig had been irritable without the American to annoy, and had spent the morning bothering Nagi to alleviate boredom. The youngest member of Schwarz retaliated by barricaded himself in his room and blaring Japanese techno music. The telepath quickly left Nagi alone to spare his remaining brain cells.

 

“Can't listen to any good music,” complained Schuldig as he went in search of other entertainment.

 

While Schuldig and Nagi spent the morning engaged in psychic commando, Farfarello had clamed ownership of the couch and TV remote. He only watched TV if he got to control the channel. As far as Farfarello was concerned no one else in the apartment watched anything interesting. Crawford only watched the news, if he watched the television at all; Nagi watched anime, and Schuldig, having a short attention span, tended to channel surf. Farfarello was currently engrossed in a nature program about great predators. Lots of lesser animals were being maimed. It wasn't the surgery program, but it wasn't bad. The Irishman sat at one end of the couch ignoring Schuldig, who proceeded to flop down on the rest of the couch, and cushion his head in Farfarello lap.

 

“I'm bored. What are you doing?” Schuldig said with a suffering sigh. Farfarello gestured to the TV with the hand holding the remote. A pack of hyenas were eating something Schuldig assumed had once been an identifiable living creature.

 

“You have crazy taste in entertainment.”

 

“I thought I was crazy.”

 

“Ja, ja,” laughed Schuldig, “I suppose so. Change the channel.”

 

“No.”

 

Schuldig knew better than to take the remote from Farfarello, so he left the subject alone and shifted into a more comfortable sprawl across the couch and Farfarello. The Irishman, like the rest of Schwarz, was used to Schuldig invading personal space, and wasn't bothered by it enough to move the lanky German. The contact annoyed the anti social boy, and distracted Crawford, though the uptight American would never admit it. Farfarello was a keen observer and could almost taste the tension between the clairvoyant and the telepath. Their interaction was entertaining when he wasn't allowed to carve things up. Sodomy hurt God. Farfarello chuckled to himself. Schuldig was useful for hurting God. It would almost be a shame when Crawford came out of denial and claimed the redhead. He was such a possessive bastard. It would be a waste of such a pretty little whore.

 

The hand not holding the remote ran through the mass of red hair. Schuldig purred at the attention. Farfarello liked Schuldig's hair. It wasn't the color of blood like the Weiss kitten's, but it was like fire. Fire burned and destroyed, just like Schuldig. It would be pretty covered in blood. Farfarello brushed the hair to one side exposing a long pale neck. Maybe he could make a few cuts and let the blood mix with the fire. It would be pretty and red like fire and damnation.

 

“Some us don't like scars,” Schuldig said.

 

“You heal quickly and don't scar easily,” replied Farfarello running his hand down the redhead's back. “And you like pain.”

 

“Do I?” chuckled Schuldig. “This coming from the resident masochist.”

 

Farfarello gripped Schuldig's hair tightly and twisted the telepath's head up to face him, forcing Schuldig to turn over on his back. He lowered down to whisper in the redhead's ear, while his amber colored eye bored into Schuldig's blue one.

 

“All good little whores like pain in the mix Guilty One,” he rasped and let his tongue follow the curve of the redhead's ear. He gave a husky laugh at the catch in Schuldig's breath.

 

“What if I said no Farfarello?”

 

“The question should be: would I care?” Farfarello hissed. “Besides you're not the type to wait around like a virgin for Crawford to decide fucking you won't screw up the future.”

 

“If he wouldn't see me coming, I would just make the decision for him. Who said I was waiting around for him anyway?”

 

“I still have one eye,” the Irishman said with a menacing laugh.

 

A pale scarred hand brushed across the rim of the telepath's pants rubbing the exposed skin above. Schuldig could feel the chaos of Farfarello's mind against his own threatening to engulf him. Playing with Farfarello was always interesting and entertaining, but dangerous to one's health. What made it even more hazardous though, was that the psychopath's keen mind knew how to use the telepath's talent against him. He knew too well how the thoughts of a strong mind could affect the redhead. In Crawford Schuldig found control and shields strong enough to keep out the world, but in Farfarello was a force of nature that could unbalance the telepath, and make him question his shaky sanity. Schuldig never did learn that playing with fire was bad. He really was a masochist.

 

“You said you were bored Schuldig, so lets play.”

 

“I thought you were watching television.” Schuldig let out a strangle moan as Farfarello's hand slipped inside his pants.

 

“I think I make a better predator than the ones on the show. Why don't you be the judge.”

 

The hand still buried in red hair pulled the telepath's head back forcing Schuldig to arch his neck and back. White teeth nipped along the column of skin from one ear to the color of a green button down shirt. The Irishman grazed Schuldig's adam's apple before sucking on the boney protrusion. One of the redhead's hands gripped Farfarello's knee and the other cupped the back of his head. Long legs spread wide as Farfarello's left hand wrapped around Schuldig's length.

 

“So,” Schuldig gasped, “you would rape me if I said no?”

 

“I don't hear you protesting.”

 

“Maybe I will.”

 

“But then you wouldn't be the good little whore I know you are.”

 

Schuldig's next sentence came out as a garbled moan as Farfarello tighten his grip inside leather pants. The German reached his own hand down to open his pants and free himself from the tight confines. As his hand fumbled with the button, Farfarello's teeth latched around his neck and the scarred man growled. Schuldig removed his hand and whimpered in discomfort.

 

“Un, Farfarello,” Schuldig whined.

 

“My game my rules, and you're the prey,” hissed the Irishman continuing to grip Schuldig by the neck.

 

“Have domination issues do we?”

 

“It's the straight jacket, makes you want to lash out.”

 

Farfarello released the telepath's hair trusting his teeth to be incentive for Schuldig not to move, and ran the free hand underneath his captive. He stroked down Schuldig's arched back, while his other hand stroked other parts. The redhead bucked up into the tortuous hand holding him captive in his pants, and Farfarello took advantage of the movement to slip his right hand into the back the garment. It was a tight fit, but there was just enough stretch in the German's pants for a man who couldn't feel the bite of a zipper wedged into the back of his hand.

 

Farfarello eased his hand around the curve letting his fingers part smooth flesh. He slipped his right middle finger through the ring of muscle, and smirked as Schuldig thrust away from the intrusion. The German thrashed against his captor, but stilled quickly at the increased pressure of teeth on his neck. Farfarello always meant his threats.

 

“Scheiße Farf!” Schuldig panted, “Couldn't you find some lotion or something.”

 

Releasing his bite momentarily, Farfarello nuzzled the redhead's ear, “Does it hurt little whore? Will you scream for me?”

 

“Sadistic bastard.”

 

Farfarello added a second finger, and matched the thrust with the hand on Schuldig's cock. He hummed in contentment at the German's yelp. Schuldig bit his lip drawing blood, in order to keep in a yell as the Irishman added a third finger. When those three fingers brushed a bundle of nerves, Schuldig's back arched violently.

 

“Mein Gott!”

 

“Yes, call to Him pretty whore. Let him see us Guilty One,” Farfarello murmured and moved to lick blood painted lips. “Let him bear witness to our sins.”

 

“Such a voyeuristic God you have,” Schuldig hissed.

 

“Hmm I want to fuck you on an altar drenched in blood. We can hang the priest on the cross, so that he can watch.”

 

“Why not just fuck the priest?” Schuldig ground out.

 

“God hates it more when both parties want it. Perhaps you could let the priest feel you come. Let God's sheep know what it feels like to have another man inside him. Maybe he'll spill his virgin seed on the cross,” Farfarello laughed. “God will weep at so much desecration. Come for me now Guilty One, and pray to God when you do.” Farfarello returned to biting Schuldig's neck.

 

“Gah! Can't you two do that somewhere else! Other people sit on that couch!” yelled Nagi from the doorway.

 

“Beat it boyo,” growled Farfarello around Schuldig's throat. The Irishman reminded Nagi of a picture he saw of a lion with the neck of a dead gazelle in its jaws. His one yellow eye gleaming from under the German's hair and his teeth clamped firmly on Schuldig's neck.

 

“Unless you want to join in mein kleiner liebhaber,” smirked Schuldig.

 

“And get some disease from you, I think not. I need to go to the store for an ink cartridge Schuldig,” said Nagi while glaring at the telepath.

 

“Didn't Brad get a box of them the other day,” Schuldig whined in reply still very much aware of the teeth on his neck and the hands in his pants.

 

“Black ink cartridges. I need a color cartridge. Crawford took the last color cartridge yesterday. He said he needed to print a graph or something for Takatori. He could have at least told me if I would need one, the selfish bastard. And before you even say it I'm not walking to the store, it's too far and,” Nagi's glare intensified, “I refuse to take public transportation.”

 

“What's so bad about taking the bus?”

 

“I don't like all the people. Now take me to the store Schuldig!”

 

“Fine,” sighed Schuldig. “Let go Farfarello, playtime is over. Whittle Nagi needs to go to the store.” Farfarello growled and tightened his grip on his prey. Schuldig squeaked as teeth sank into his neck.

 

“Hey, that's going to leave a mark!” complained Schuldig in indignation.

 

Farfarello felt pressure around his jaw and matched Nagi's glare. It may not physically hurt him, but having his jaw broken would be an inconvenience. He released the telepath with one last nip. Schuldig got up and stretched, not caring in the least about his obvious erection.

 

“Come on Nagi,” Schuldig said grabbing his keys from the hook by the door, “I should make you suck me off in the car.”

 

“Schuldig!” yelled a red faced Nagi as he followed the telepath out the door.

 

Farfarello picked the remote back up and changed the station. He settled in to watch a program about cosmetic surgery. Blood and vanity were such a wonderful God hurting combination.

 

 

 

End Chapter

 

 

HAHAHA I'm so evil to Schuldig. I couldn't help it. The evil plot bunny got into my brain and camped out. As always reviews are welcome and appreciated. I love hearing what people think.

 

Solaras