Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Skeleton Jar ❯ You Lit the Spark ( Chapter 2 )

Skeleton Jar

Part 2: You Lit the Spark

By: Omni-sama

__________________

Dislcaimer, warnings, etc. found in first chapter.

 

Also: In another fic I did, I had set the Koneko in Shinjuku. The same goes for this fic. Just because…well…why not? It's right next to Tokyo's gay district, and WK is pretty gay.

_________________________________

 

With a frustrated growl, Yohji shot out a hand to grope around for the alarm clock on the nightstand. As soon as his fingers found it, they curled into a fist and he proceeded to pound along the top of the device until the shrill beeping ceased. Damn alarm. Damn Ken for buying him the alarm. Damn himself for actually using the thing.

 

He had been having such a nice dream, too. Well, he was fairly certain it hadn't started off nice, but he could barely remember any of the earlier details. Only the final moments remained in his mind while all the others bled away like smoke in a faint breeze. Even the clearer final moments were slippery in his mental grasp, though he did his best to cling to them.

 

That man towards the end… If only that guy existed in the real world. He was very much Yohji's type. Well, as far as male partners go, that is. Obvious confidence, hint of an edge to him, cultured but not in the stuffy sense, and of course incredibly fucking hot. Oh yeah, very much his type. The feel of the man's hair as Yohji ran his fingers through it had seemed almost real. Such long, wildly beautiful hair. Like fire. And then those eyes… God, those sharp blue eyes could make him hard with just a look. They reminded him somewhat of a frozen lake, not so much in color but in character. Lovely to behold, but hiding deep, dark things that are both frightening and amazing.

 

And why the fuck was he spending so much time waxing poetic about the physical characteristics of an imaginary person? Damn, he needed to get laid. Go on a date. Something! To resort to dreaming up dates was a bit of a low for him, he figured. Pity he'd probably not be able to find someone as good as that man to date in the real world.

 

Speaking of the real world, he supposed he ought to get up and get ready for work now. He added Kritiker to his list of “damns” for making him have to work two jobs. Was it not enough that he had to go out some nights and kill people, but did he really have to get up the next morning and pretend to be a fucking florist, too? Jesus Christ. He was exhausted, despite having finished up the assignment relatively early last night. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and fall back to sleep, hopefully dreaming of that redhead again.

 

After finishing his morning grooming rituals, Yohji strolled into the shop with a careless sway to his hips. There a different—though no less sexy—redhead waited for him with a perfectly practiced scowl. “I'm not late, so stop glaring,” drawled Yohji as he allowed his eyes to lazily rove over Aya. Absently he wondered if he was starting to develop a fetish for redheads.

 

“You're right in that the store doesn't open for another two minutes,” explained Aya, glare increasing, “but you're wrong in that you're late for the opening preparations. I've told you before that if you're scheduled for opening shift, you need to arrive one hour before the store actually opens.”

 

Letting out a sigh, Yohji rolled his eyes and walked to the register. “Give me a fucking break, Aya. The store's pretty much ready to open except for moving some plants outside. And that takes what—five minutes?” Glancing out of the windows, Yohji offered a smirk to the still-glaring redhead. “Seems you did that job just fine without me, so I fail to see the problem.”

 

Much to Yohji's amusement, he watched as one of Aya's eyes actually twitched in frustration. “The problem is that you were supposed to assist with that job.”

 

“So I owe you. Next time there's a chore around here you don't want to do, just make me do it.”

 

At that, Aya gave a snort. “As if you'd actually do it,” he grumbled while walking over to flip the sign to open. Yohji's smirk grew, but he did not retort. After all, why deny the obvious truth?

 

The day passed without incident, resembling every other day in that damn flower shop. For a few hours Yohji entertained himself with a game he usually played—estimating how long it would take before Aya would snap at a customer. If he guessed three in a row correctly, he'd buy himself a reward later. So far he'd only managed to get two in a row before Aya would disrupt his streak by either snapping too early or too late. By early afternoon he'd grown bored with the game, as he tended to do. He could try to play one of his other games, like trying to beat his old record of how many phone numbers he could get, trying to seduce the most extremely devoted house wives, or trying to hook up a date with a guy without any of his coworkers noticing. Yes, he supposed he could play any one of those games, but he didn't really feel like it. He chose instead to count down the minutes until Ken and Omi arrived to take over, while stealing surreptitious glances at Aya whenever the man bent down to pick up a potted plant.

 

Yeah, he'd hit that. Aya had a very, very nice ass.

 

“Have no fear, fair maidens, for your knight in shining armor has arrived to save you from the tedious work which has enslaved you!” Yohji turned his attention to the door, amused to see Ken standing in a heroic pose as if he truly were a knight sent to free them.

 

“Who the hell you callin' a maiden, Kenken? Last I checked, I'm not quite pure enough,” joked Yohji, a chuckle in his voice. “Or are you suggesting the maiden is Aya?” The last comment got him a glare from the man in question.

 

“And what makes you think I'm any more pure?” snapped Aya, raising one brow in exaggerated confusion. For a second Ken and Yohji just stared at him in disbelief, before both of them burst out laughing.

 

“What's so funny?” a fourth voice asked, coming from behind Ken and thus startling the young man. Ken took a few quick steps into the shop and spun around, revealing a very curious Omi standing just outside the door.

 

“We're just laughing at the idea that Aya could possibly be as much of a slut as Yohji,” explained Ken, which earned him a yen to the head compliments of the “slut”.

 

The four continued to joke and laugh—well, Aya did more along the lines of smirking and silently snickering than outright laughter—until Yohji and Aya finally hung up their aprons and left the shop in the care of the two younger teammates. While Aya headed up towards his room, Yohji detoured out to the alley in order to have himself a smoke. Lighting his cigarette, he leaned back against the building and stared longingly out towards the street.

 

Sometimes he just wanted to get away. Away from Kritiker, away from this flower shop, away from these people that he had to live and work with day after fucking day. Not that any of them knew that he couldn't stand them. He had the role of the big brother, and he played his role well. If any of them felt they needed to talk to someone, good ol' Yohji was there. He acted protective, caring, and sympathetic at all the right moments, but it was just an act. Oh sure, he could be like Aya and not attempt to put on any act at all—just let all of his distaste be apparent in his words and expressions. But no, that wasn't Yohji's style. He found it to be much easier to work together as a team if everyone on the team was acting friendly and civil towards one another. He was fairly sure that Omi and Ken's friendship was genuine, though, and not just a necessary act. Sometimes that thought made him feel a little guilty about his own apathy, but only sometimes. Oddly enough, he felt closest to Aya simply because he could relate more to him than to Ken or Omi. Yohji understood Aya's annoyance and dislike; he felt it, too. If it was one thing that the older half of Weiß had in common, it was that neither of them wanted to be there.

 

---

 

Across the street, Schuldig lowered his paper just enough to peek over the top, a smirk stretching one side of his mouth and his blue eyes gleaming with delight and mischief. From his outdoor table at the little café, he had a perfect view of Kudou in the alley. He had been watching the blond for the past half hour, reading every thought he could, his interest in Kudou growing by the minute. Eager and impatient, Schuldig decided it was time to do something in order to initiate their first meeting in the real world. So, he sent a tendril of thought to Kudou. It was more of a strong suggestion, really, intended to make the blond have a sudden craving for a sandwich from that particular café. Schuldig watched with satisfaction as Kudou tossed down his cigarette and started heading straight for the café, as instructed. Raising the newspaper back up to hide himself again, Schuldig feigned casual interest in the printed contents.

 

When Kudou asked for a table, Schuldig “suggested” the hostess lead him to the one directly beside Schuldig's own. Everything was going so smoothly that the telepath felt practically giddy, though he didn't let a bit of it show on his face. Kudou wasn't the only one good at acting, he thought to himself.

 

He waiting until after Kudou had received his drink and made his meal order before making his move. It wasn't an obvious move, though. He merely lowered his paper and reached for his coffee with a bored and distracted expression, making sure to stare blankly off in a direction nowhere near Kudou. The gasp from the table next to him was enough of an indicator that his plan had work, which meant he didn't even need to read the other man's mind to know he'd been recognized. Just because he didn't need to, however, does not mean that he didn't.

 

“Holy shit… That guy looks exactly like the one from my dream last night. Either this is one hell of a coincidence, or some power somewhere is trying to tell me something.”

 

Inside, Schuldig was smirking at Kudou's thoughts, but outside he stared absently at his coffee as if trying to work out some type of puzzle in his head. When a cup of latte was set down beside his sandwich plate, Schuldig pretended to be startled, and looked up at charming green eyes. “Excuse me,” the owner of those eyes offered with a voice that was lower than his usual tone. The sound was rich and sensual while still seeming mostly warm and friendly—almost as if the seductive aspects were subliminal. “I noticed that you were eating alone. I'm also alone, and it's never any fun to eat alone, is it? Mind if I join you?”

 

Schuldig smiled, and used Kudou's own methods against him. The smile was overtly warm and inviting, but held a hint of daring seduction. His blue eyes gleamed, seeming pleasantly surprised at first glance, but dangerous and licentious upon deeper inspection. Schuldig knew that his hidden messages were received, because he could hear Kudou thinking that the redhead looked like one hell of a challenge, but one that promised quite a bit of fun in the attempt. “I'd be delighted if you joined me,” Schuldig offered with a wave of his hand towards the chair in front of Kudou. “I was just feeling a bit lost, actually. Would you happen to know this area fairly well?”

 

Kudou's smile grew as he took his seat. “As a matter of fact, I do. I live right across the street, actually. Is there anywhere in particular that you're trying to go?”

 

Nodding a little, Schuldig delayed his response by taking a sip of his coffee. “Shinjuku ni-chome,” he finally answered. Much to his amusement, Kudou seemed momentarily thrown. The blond quickly recovered his wits, however, and his smile returned with even more of a suggestive air to it.

 

“You don't say. Any reason in particular you want to go to that district?”

 

“I heard there are some nice little dives, is all,” offered Schuldig with a shrug and a hint of a smirk.

 

“Well, that depends on your taste,” Kudou explained. “The bars in that district aren't exactly for everyone.”

 

At this, Schuldig feigned confused surprise. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah.” The suggestiveness in Kudou's smile faltered as doubt crept in. “It's usually men only. So, if you're looking to find a chick, you'd do better to go elsewhere.”

 

Schuldig nodded as he seemed to contemplate that explanation. Then, after taking another sip of his coffee, he smiled and said: “Sounds like my kind of place. I mean, girls are nice too, sure. I just don't feel in the mood for one right now, you know?”

 

Kudou's brows rose halfway up his forehead, then smoothed back down as his confidence and charm increased three-fold. “Yeah,” he murmured in his honeyed voice, “I know exactly what you mean. I was thinking of heading to one of the bars there myself, actually. Though the best time to go is later in the evening. You won't find much in the way of fun this early in the day.”

 

Frowning, Schuldig turned his attention back to his coffee cup. He knew that he'd be able to convince Kudou to go with him to a hotel for an hour or so to waste some time before the bars got jumping, but he didn't think it would be such a good idea. No, he wanted Kudou for more than a quick fuck. He wanted Kudou to be thoroughly wrapped around his little finger; wanted Kudou to be obsessed with him; wanted Kudou to want him. For that, he'd need a little more time to work his magic. Looking up from the coffee and back into those sly green eyes, Schuldig offered a little—though quite manly—pout. “Are there no places that would be open at this hour? I know it's only about three in the afternoon, but I could really use a drink.”

 

Those green eyes turned sympathetic, and Schuldig was delightedly shocked to sense that the sympathy was genuine. “Hard day, huh?”

 

“You have no idea,” Schuldig half-lied. No, it wasn't hard in the sense Kudou was implying, but he had been hard most of the day just thinking of the blond man and all the things he wanted to do with him.

 

Kudou's sandwich arrived and they both fell into pleasant conversation as they ate their respective meals. They finally properly introduced each other, Kudou presenting himself as a florist, and Schuldig presenting himself as a German businessman named Schuldig Schmidt. The name earned a strange look from Kudou, and Schuldig was thrilled to discover that Japanese wasn't the only language the other man was familiar with. Granted, it seemed he knew more English and Japanese than anything else, but Schuldig could sense a cursory knowledge of a few others as well.

 

By the time the sandwiches and drinks were done, the mutual interest between the two had grown and shifted into something beyond the base desire of lust. Schuldig couldn't suppress the smug smirk as they headed off down the street towards the gay district of Shinjuku, because his plan was going better than he could have hoped.

 

---

 

Yohji suggested a bar at which to start their hopping. It was a quiet place, and one of the few that opened so early. The owner and operator, who many had jokingly called Yohji's older brother, was tall with wavy dark blond hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. A pair of dark sunglasses hid his brown eyes, despite the low lighting. The resemblance between him and Yohji ended there, however. While Yohji's nose was long, the owner's nose was short and almost pug. The owner's face was also a little rounder, and his skin was paler.

 

“Ben!” Yohji exclaimed in greeting, walking right up to the bar to smack his hand into the owner's and give a casual shake.

 

“Yohji, you old dog! Haven't seen you here in months. Heard you'd abandoned this place for clubs that are a bit livelier.” Ben attempted to appear upset, but his grin ruined the effect.

 

“Now, Ben, I could never abandon you,” Yohji jokingly consoled. “I mean, we're brothers, aren't we?”

 

“True, true!” laughed Ben as he poured Yohji a glass of scotch without the man even having to order.

 

“You're brothers?” inquired Schuldig from where he stood just behind Kudou, his brows raised in surprise.

 

Yohji laughed and shook his head, waving Schuldig over to take a seat at the bar while he plopped himself down. “Not by blood, no. But Ben here is also a mixed-breed, like myself.”

 

“Except I'm only a third Japanese, while Yohji's like the coffee creamer,” Ben explained with a grin. “Anyway, what can I get for you?”

 

Schuldig slid onto the stool beside Kudou and studied the bottles lining the back of the bar with a contemplative hum. “I'll take a glass of the best scotch whisky you have.”

 

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Sure thing. Neat or on the rocks?” he asked, reaching under the bar for a bottle with a blue label.

 

“On the rocks. It's too hot to drink neat at the moment, I think.” As if in agreement to Schuldig's statement, Kudou raised his own glass and jiggled it so that the ice cubes would jingle.

 

Things in the bar were slow for a while, but eventually salarymen started to wander in, as well as a few with more trendy attire that were most likely in college or possibly even high school. When one of the newcomers would take a seat beside Yohji and attempt to express some interest, the blond gently and subtly blew them off. A quick scan of his mind revealed to Schuldig that he was keeping himself available in case a certain German turned out to be interested—which he was fairly certain said German was. Schuldig sipped at his drink, which was little more than scotch-flavored water by now, and allowed himself to formulate a new devious plan. When a handsome young salaryman with perfectly groomed, black hair sat himself beside Schuldig, the plan was set into motion.

 

“Looks like you're in need of a new drink,” the salaryman purred with a deep, velvety voice that Schuldig most certainly enjoyed listening to.

 

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Schuldig acknowledged, a hint of a purr in his own voice. In actuality, he had no desire to have another drink. Oh, the whisky was fine enough. He loved the taste, actually. But one was his limit. Any more than that was risky. Any more than that and the voices could get louder. Still, that wouldn't stop him from taking advantage of other people's generosity.

 

The salaryman smiled and waved Ben over, motioning for the owner to refill Schuldig's glass. Ben did so, but was obviously glancing at Yohji from beneath his dark glasses, a confused frown crinkling his brows together. With his eyes locked on the salaryman, Schuldig mentally reached out to Kudou, sensing the man's shock and inexplicable jealousy—which, of course, brought Kudou even more shock. “Thanks,” hummed Schuldig as he took a minute sip of his drink, knowing it would be best to at least make a show of consuming it.

 

“No need to thank me,” the salaryman assured, his eyes dropping half-closed in lust as he watched Schuldig's tongue lick at a drop of whisky on the rim of the glass.

 

“Oh, but I insist.” As Schuldig's hand found the salaryman's thigh and proceeded to caress it slowly through the expensive fabric of the suit, the German rejoiced in the desire pouring off the man as well as the increased jealousy oozing from Kudou. “My, this is quite a nice suit,” he commented almost casually, if not for the huskiness and lustful undertones to his voice. The hand wandered higher up the thigh, long fingers brushing lightly over the growing bulge they found there.

 

Suddenly a hand landed on Schuldig's shoulder, and he turned his head to see Yohji standing behind him with an obviously forced grin. “Hey man, we should head to the next place now. I know a great place nearby that should be opening at about this time.”

 

Immediately the hand left the man's lap and Schuldig turned on his stool, looking quite eager to explore another bar. “Sounds fun. I'll just pay for my drink.”

 

“Don't worry,” Yohji assured with a wave of his hand and a far more genuine smile, “I took care of it.”

 

Schuldig grinned, and it was all he could do to not let it come off as predatory. The salaryman beside him seemed to finally realize his piece of tail was about to get away, and he turned to face them both with a frown on his chiseled face. “Leaving so soon?”

 

“I'm afraid so,” sighed Schuldig as he directed his attention back to the man, leaning in close to run his fingers along that deliciously square jaw. “Thank you again for the drink.” With Kudou watching, Schuldig leaned in and captured the salaryman's lips for a deep kiss that left the target panting and rubbing himself through his slacks. Of course, it probably helped that Schuldig stimulated the pleasure centers in the salaryman's brain at the same time he was kissing him. Still, the effect was satisfying for the redhead, and he turned back to Kudou with a grin.

 

Kudou's emotions were delicious. He was incredibly jealous, envious of the salaryman, angry that Schuldig hadn't been like himself and turn his suitor down, but above all, Kudou wanted. He wanted that kiss, wanted Schuldig's hands on him, wanted to bend the redhead over and claim his as his and his alone. He wanted it all, no exceptions. The strength of his want surprised him a little, but the alarm was drowned out, nowhere near strong enough to compete as his main emotion for the moment.

 

Schuldig was a bit astounded as well, not having expected his plan to work quite so well. Hell, he was willing to bet that Kudou would fuck him right then and there if Schuldig let him. Hm. The idea sounded a little fun, actually. Glancing around, Schuldig calculated that it wouldn't be too difficult to fuzz everyone's mind so that they wouldn't notice. Then again, he'd rather be able to let himself go and enjoy, which would be hard to do and also maintain the concentration needed to alter everyone's mind.

 

No, it would be best to get a hotel. Now the only obstacle was getting Kudou to invite Schuldig to a room. After all, it would be a bit odd for Schuldig to turn around and ask Kudou to go with him somewhere to fuck after he had just had his tongue down the throat of another man. Then again, Schuldig mused, he could continue this game—take it even further. Eyes flashing with demented glee, Schuldig rose from the stool and snaked an arm around Kudou's shoulders. “Lead the way, Herr Kudou! The night is young, and the men are beautiful!”

 

---

 

Yohji glared at the spiky-haired blond that was currently straddling Schuldig's lap in a corner booth. That made the fourth one so far, not counting the salaryman at the first place. Each time they would start to get a little serious, Yohji would usually interrupt in order to drag Schuldig to the next bar. Unfortunately, he was running out of bars. Well, good bars, anyway. Especially the good bars that would allow him to bring in a foreigner. He supposed he could take him to the sleazier joints. On second thought, he grumbled mentally as he watched Schuldig slide his hands inside the back of the blond's jeans and squeeze his ass, sleazier was a bad idea. The man on Schuldig's lap moaned and tilted his head back, his eyebrow rings glinting in the dim light as he rocked his hips. Jesus, Yohji fumed, they might as well be fucking. And just how old was that guy, anyway? He looked like some punk out of high school, though he supposed he could be in his early twenties. And what the hell was with his outfit? Tattered shirt and pants that probably cost a small fortune each, piercings in his ears, brows, nose, and who the fuck knew where else, and hair with so much gel and bleach that he probably permanently smelled like a hair salon.

 

Suddenly Yohji was torn from his internal ranting, caught by intense blue eyes that were watching him steadily, hungrily. Even as Schuldig ran his tongue up the punk's arced neck, those eyes continued to bore straight into Yohji. As Schuldig slowly and gently bit at that neck, eyes never wavering, Yohji was struck with the image of a panther watching its prey even while it feasted on the body of another. A shiver traveled up his spine, only to turn around and slide back down. It was a pleasant shiver, though. One of anticipation. Suddenly Schuldig pulled his mouth away from the now bruised neck and he whispered something into a piercing-adorned ear, those blue eyes still focused on Yohji. The punk seemed about ready to protest, but he suddenly paused, blinked, and nodded before sliding off Schuldig's lap and walking unsteadily away.

 

Drawn by those eyes, Yohji felt himself walking over to Schuldig, and sliding into the booth on the same side as the German. As if working of their own accord, Yohji felt as his hands slid up Schuldig's thighs to his torso, moving up along his chest. A smirk was on Schuldig's lips, and Yohji wanted to wipe it off. The smug bastard. So he thought he could make-out with other guys in front of Yohji, and then expect Yohji to fall into his lap as well? Part of Yohji knew he should be pissed, should be fucking disgusted by such conceit. Unfortunately, that part of Yohji was greatly outnumbered by the rest of Yohji, and it just so happened that the rest of Yohji wanted nothing more than to fuck Schuldig.

 

“Took you long enough,” Schuldig murmured in amusement against Yohji's lips, startling the blond who hadn't even realized he'd leaned in that close. Then they were kissing, hard and wet and demanding. Yohji could taste the others on Schuldig's tongue and it drove his need higher. Schuldig tasted whisky in Yohji's mouth, and he wanted more. Teeth nipped at lips and tongues; throats vibrated with moans and harsh breaths, and hands explored bodies through the frustrating barrier of clothing.

 

Eventually Schuldig pulled away enough to talk and to breathe deep, hungry breaths. Yohji tried to follow his lips, to claim them again, but Schuldig held him at bay. “Let's get out of here,” he whispered, though Yohji was still able to hear it over the music and the talking. In a way, he mused dazedly, it was as if he could hear it within his head.

 

Somehow they managed to pull themselves away from each other long enough to leave and find a hotel. Yohji had started moving towards a love hotel he knew of in the area, but Schuldig pulled him onto a different path, explaining that he wanted to be able to take his time. Once Schuldig found a hotel to his liking—a nice five star establishment that promised luxurious beds—he booked them a room with a king sized bed for the night.

 

---

 

With a drunken laugh, Yohji sprawled himself out on the plush bed. Schuldig frowned a little at that, not liking the thought that Yohji might have to get drunk before sleeping with him. However, a little mental prodding revealed that he was mostly drunk on lust, the whisky barely having an affect. Chuckling, Schuldig proceeded to unbutton his white dress shirt and untuck it from his black slacks. Yohji's dark green eyes watched him, a smile playing on his lips that straddled the line between affectionate and rapacious. Schuldig watched as Yohji slowly slid his hand down his own abs before working his fly open with his fingers to reveal black briefs that were unable to conceal the erection beneath, as the head rose above the elastic waistband to rub moisture on Yohji's stomach. Those long, talented fingers slipped under the elastic, drawing it down to further free the member, before wrapping themselves around it to pump it slowly.

 

Schuldig growled and tossed his shirt aside. “Who said you could start without me?”

 

Yohji's eyes gave a false impression of laziness as his hand continued to work his cock. “You're taking too long.”

 

With a snort, Schuldig pulled his wallet out, retrieving a foil packet from one of its compartments before placing the folded leather on the dresser. Then he reached into one of his front pockets, drawing out a handful of something, which he tossed along with the condom at the bed. With his free hand, Yohji grabbed one of the things that landed next to him, and he smirked to find that it was a packet of lube no bigger than a packet of ketchup. There were a lot of them, though, so he was sure they'd have plenty to work with. “Came prepared, I see.” Not that he was complaining. He was actually starting to wonder what they'd use for lubrication and protection since Schuldig had opted not to go to the fully-equipped love hotel.

 

“Considering I was heading towards Tokyo's well-known gay district looking to score some ass, I'd be a fool not to come prepared,” Schuldig shot back with a laugh as he finally rid himself of his pants and briefs, kicking them aside. Now mostly naked save for his socks, he crawled onto the bed so that he was straddling Yohji on all fours, grin manic.

 

“You going to keep your socks on?”

 

“Why not? You're still fully clothed.”

 

Yohji grinned, moving his hand off of his cock and transferring it to Schuldig's, picking the pace of the stroking right back up again. “If you get off of me, I can fix that.”

 

Through a moan Schuldig asked, “Why would I want to move when you're doing that to me?” The stroking suddenly stopped, much to Schuldig's disappointment, and the hand left as well. Grumbling, he rolled off of Yohji and lay on his back beside him.

 

Standing, and with much more speed and efficiency than Schuldig had, Yohji stripped himself of all of his clothes—socks included. Meanwhile, Schuldig had opened one of the lube packets and coated his fingers. Yohji stood there for a moment, watching in rapt fascination as Schuldig slid two slick fingers into himself, legs spread wide and hips tilted up. The room fell silent save for the sticky sound of Schuldig fingering himself and their increasingly heavy breathing. Tearing his eyes away from where fingers met flesh, Yohji found himself yet again captured by those blue eyes. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and tried to steady his racing pulse as he knelt on the bed beside the redhead. Schuldig moaned as he brushed his fingers against his prostate, head falling back and eyes closing. Even with the loss of eye contact, Yohji didn't feel as if the spell had been broken.

 

“God, you're so…” Yohji felt at a loss for words as he watched Schuldig's body tremble in pleasure, and as the muscles in his right arm flexed with each thrust of his fingers.

 

“Fuck me,” urged Schuldig, cracking his eyes open enough to watch Yohji's own hungry green eyes staring back. He rocked his hips up, causing his body to undulate wantonly. “Fuck me,” he repeated, voice barely a whisper, though again Yohji could hear it as clearly as if he'd thought it.

 

Unable to tear his eyes away from the image in front of him, Yohji reached blindly along the bed for the condom, his fingers grabbing some lube packets as well. Finally finding it, he hastily tore it open and rolled the slickened latex onto his cock, followed by two packets of lube. Schuldig's chest rumbled with pleasure as he watched Yohji prepare, and he slid his fingers slowly out so as to clear the path. “Do it,” he encouraged the blond, spreading his legs even wider and lifting his heavy sack to provide an unobstructed view of his hole.

 

After wiping his hand off on the comforter, Yohji grabbed Schuldig and pulled the man farther up the bed so that his head rested on a pillow. This inspired a chuckle and teasing grin from Schuldig, who quickly regained his provocative pose. Moving in between Schuldig's spread legs, Yohji positioned his cock at the waiting entrance and slowly pressed until the head was securely inside. The feel of it entering Schuldig, the slight pop sensation when it breached the final resisting muscle, caused both Yohji and Schuldig to gasp appreciatively and crave even more. With one firm rock of his hips, Yohji buried himself deep, and reveled in the tight, slick heat that he could feel even through the condom. Schuldig's eyes were watching him again, and Yohji leaned down as if falling into them, only to be rescued by Schuldig's lips against his own. The kiss wasn't like their earlier ones. It wasn't as hungry and desperate, but instead was indulgent and sensual.

 

Though thoroughly enjoying the kiss, Schuldig grew impatient, as he was wont to do. He rocked his hips, urging Yohji to move and finally give him what he'd been craving since first sharing the man's dreams. Yohji broke from the kiss with a shaky exhalation of whisky-spiced air, his hips instinctively following Schuldig's example. With a deep, steadying breath, Yohji regained his control and sat up on his knees, hands moving to grip at Schuldig's hips as he thrust into the man. As he moaned and rocked, Schuldig lifted his arms to run fingers along every part of Yohji he could reach before finally grabbing the man's ass to encourage him to thrust harder and deeper. Acknowledging the non-verbal request, Yohji lifted Schuldig's hips and arched his own back in order to thrust in at a new angle. Schuldig cried out and dug dull nails into Yohji's skin as his prostate was hit continuously. Both men held fast to the other, using their grips to try to pull the other closer. At the same time, their backs both arced away from where they were joined, making them look like some bizarre, two-headed creature that was trying to pull itself apart from where it was joined at the pelvis.

 

Schuldig did what he could to contribute to the thrusting, but the angle and the pleasure made it so he could do little more than take it, head thrown back and mouth open to allow cries of encouragement. Sweat was beading on Yohji's forehead and trickling down his spine, sternum, and abs. His entire body was tense, arms supporting both his and Schuldig's weight, torso holding him up so he wouldn't fall over, thighs and ass working to maintain a steady, pounding rhythm. Eyes unable to leave the carnal body writhing on his cock, Yohji watched Schuldig with an obsessive focus that would likely scare most normal partners. For Schuldig, it filled him with even greater pleasure, and he did his best to keep his eyes open enough to witness that stare.

 

Such unrelenting pleasure cannot last long, however. All too soon Yohji felt his balls tighten, and his thrusts unconsciously pick up in speed and urgency. Schuldig sensed it, too, and he hastily threw open a one-way connection between Yohji's mind and his, wanting and needing to feel the other man's pleasure. The double sensation was all it took for Schuldig, as he released a husky scream and came, cum trailing from his upper abs to his neck. The sight, sound, and feel of Schuldig's climax pushed Yohji beyond his limits, and his hips slammed into the man one last time. Pressed into the hilt, Yohji rocked his hips gently as he came, Schuldig's still-quivering passage milking out the last of his cum into the reservoir tip of the condom.

 

A few seconds passed where both men barely moved, but the sweat on Yohji suddenly grew cold in the room's air conditioning, their muscles suddenly became sore from exertion, and the position suddenly felt very awkward and uncomfortable. Schuldig released Yohji's ass, giving it a parting spank, and he lowered his legs so that his feet touched the bed. Slowly, Yohji pulled out and set Schuldig's hips on the bed as well, before shifting over and turning to lie down beside the redhead. They were both still slightly out of breath, but they smiled at each other and kissed. This time it was a strangely sweet kiss that would have likely bothered either of them had their minds not been groggy on endorphins and exhaustion. Eventually the condom on Yohji's cock became a sticky and uncomfortable accessory, so he pulled himself away in order to go to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he handed Schuldig a damp washcloth, which the German used to clean the cooling cum off of himself. Clean-up complete for the both, they pulled the covers back and slid into bed for a much-needed nap.

 

Yohji knew it was out of character for him to sleep with his partners after fucking them, but for some reason he didn't feel like being anywhere else but right there. Smirking, Schuldig spooned against Yohji and stroked his side. It was much easier to join in Kudou's dream if the man was right beside him, and he had no intention of letting him leave. He waited until the blond's breath evened out into sleep before relaxing and allowing himself to follow.

 

-----

To be continued…