Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Surprised ❯ One-Shot

“Surprised”
By Viridian5
12/28/06

RATING: R; Crawford/Schuldig. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by.
SPOILERS: small ones for “Last Mission 12: Epitaph” and a tiny one for Side B.
SUMMARY: Surprises keep a partnership fresh.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Parts of this were originally going to be a post for my online roleplaying of Schuldig, but I decided to make it a fic instead, and it grew and changed from there.
Thanks to Rosaleendhu for the pre-read.

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“Surprised”
By Viridian5
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Brad walked in encircled by a slim layer of quiet lust, so quiet that I probably felt it only because I’ve known him and been linked to him for so long. You wouldn’t be able to see it on his body unless you knew to look for his slightly flared nostrils and the brightness in his eyes. The sign he couldn’t help remained hidden under his expensive trench coat. He thought he knew what he would find when he opened the door.

The only signs that Brad didn’t see what he’d expected came in the narrowing of his eyes and the way his lips thinned. Oh yeah, and the “Schuldig, what the hell are you doing?” Didn’t decrease his lust, though. As he took off and hung up his coat I could see that his dick still thought it would be getting some.

That was how English should sound. Not like the shit I’d been hearing for days now.

“Working on the solution for world peace,” I answered in English, letting sarcasm drip extra-thick from my words before I crammed the last bit of a strawberry jelly-topped cracker into my mouth. “Not quite the sexy picture you expected, is it? Although I think the black robe is classy as well as practical.” I also wore golden nail polish on my bare toes that would somewhat match my top and plain black pants. I believed in framing and setting a scene.

“Yes. It stops you from getting jelly on your top. I can see its Mandarin collar because the robe doesn’t reach up far enough.”

Yeah, my last splurge days before we’d left Tokyo like bats out of hell. Actually, it had kind of amazed us that we’d operated for so many years in Japan without drawing the attention and anger of the Yakuza. After all the recent warnings went unheeded and mostly laughed at, the Yakuza had finally firebombed our flat... apartment, and we’d retaliated by killing 100 of them. But before that we’d started packing essentials in our car, and some of those essentials for me had been clothing. In one case, a sleeveless brocade top with a Mandarin collar and golden knot closures in a vibrant green with embroidered gold phoenixes. It had laces that crisscrossed in back to adjust the fit, a bit like a corset. Brad had seen it online and knew I would love it, so he’d taken me to the Shinjuku shop that had it. It was lush and expensive and flashy and so me that I had to buy one. Brad had been insufferably happy and proud to see me react as expected and submit to fittings to get one custom made.

Now we were in fucking England, and none of the thoughts here felt right because I had been in Japan for so many years that I’d grown so accustomed to the language and customs and looking foreign that now that I was in London it was all wrong, and it wasn’t even the right English around me, not American English or Irish English, that I kept absorbing anyway even though I didn’t like it, and I’d been hanging around Abyssinian and Siberian’s heads for a taste of... home. Pathetic. What would I do now, lie on the bed in fetal position going crazy? No. It would take time to adjust, and I would do it.

Brad had always used me in various ways--that’s what Eszett gave its teams telepaths for--but I’d always used him back, used his relative mental quiet to get some peace, used him for sex to break a loop or distract myself. I’d put on this top knowing that it would heat Brad up and meant it as a surprise, because surprising a precog always gave me a thrill.

“I have no intention of hiding the top from you now. After all, you already foresaw it half an hour ago!” Foresaw it despite all of my efforts to put up some kind of psychic interference to prevent it, which sometimes worked but sure as hell hadn’t here. “I’m wearing a robe now because the surprise is ruined and it’s cold here. It’s fucking London in December.”

Brad pushed his silver hair back from his face in a gesture that suggested him trying to get a hold on his temper. He’d done that a lot over the years in front of me because of me, something I couldn’t help taking pride in. He answered, “I’m horny, you were horny, and you’re still wearing it. What the hell is the problem?”

“You saw a future in which I hadn’t felt you seeing the future. Thus, sex ensued. That future is gone because I saw you seeing it and now I don’t feel like sex anymore. You ruined it. Now I’m just hungry.” I slathered jelly on another cracker and ate it, then licked it off my lips in the least sexy way I could contrive.

“You can’t read me very well, but you felt me foreseeing.”

“Sometimes your visions are a bit like electric shocks. Hard for me to miss that.”

“Again I ask: What the hell is the problem? You’re constantly on the make.”

“Good. Keep talking like that and we’ll see how many years it’ll be before you get to touch me again. I don’t have to just bend over or go to my knees for you anymore, team leader, not with Eszett crushed.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that clear over the last few years.” Then Brad’s look changed to something... not angry or annoyed. Concerned? I couldn’t read anything that would let me know for sure. “Schuldig, how are you adapting to the move?”

“Fine.” Never wise to show weakness in front of Brad Crawford, same as it never had been in Eszett. “I can want sex or not want sex or just be pissed at you without it meaning anything else.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? There is no ‘hmm.’ You want some crackers?” I didn’t think I sounded as off-balance as I felt.

I had years of experience in dealing with an angry or annoyed Brad Crawford; you just put more steel in your spine and went for his throat with words or strategy until one of you won. Unfortunately, Brad had changed in the last few years, starting a little before but accelerating after we’d used Weiß to help us crush Epitaph and the remnants of Eszett. Brad had bled so damned much and been hurt so badly and weirdly in his fight that he hadn’t been good for much for about two weeks afterward. I’d taken care of him, caught between a gloating smugness at Brad needing my care and a horror that Brad needed so much care. Wondering if he’d be the same afterward hadn’t felt good either. Good thing Brad hadn’t been the telepath.

After recovering, Brad had been somehow mellower, less angry in general and more considerate of me in particular. Not much, not all the time, not enough for me to get used to it in the last few years, but often enough to leave me lost and clawing for an appropriate response. Jokes about lobotomies and Stockholm syndrome suggested themselves in my mind, but they didn’t seem so funny anymore and I never said them, not a one.

Then again, maybe he thought that without Eszett as a sword over my head and our goal to destroy the bastards to keep us together I might leave him if he didn’t treat me a little nicer. I couldn’t know for sure with him.

Now Brad crouched in front of me and set his hand on my shoulder, supportive, trying to draw me out, and said, “We don’t have to stay here. We can go anywhere. Anywhere we want.” He stroked my shoulder a little with a thumb, almost massaging.

“Yeah, ‘anywhere’ except Tokyo for a while. I’m fine, Brad. Anywhere is fine.” Anywhere Brad went.

We used each other and manipulated each other, but in the end I needed Brad as my anchor more than Brad needed me to be his flexibility. It would be horrible if Brad realized that. He hadn’t turned that soft.

I would melt to him if he continued touching me like this and talking and looking at me like I meant something important to him. I knew it was manipulation but it meant he cared, and I wanted to see how long he stayed with it. I would give in once I decided he’d done enough to placate me. I would make him bend....

“Anywhere you want,” he murmured as he nuzzled the side of my jaw and started unfastening the belt holding my robe closed then stroked my hair. I’d straightened and deflated my hair for a while but all the time, effort, ironing, and products involved had just been ridiculous. Besides, Brad loved to complain about how wild it was even though he loved to touch and play with it during sex. Maybe he actually hated other people aside from us seeing it.

Actually, a lot of my things he complained about--like my loud clothes and tendency to be mouthy with almost everyone--he seemed to find sexy under other circumstances. I knew he had a kink about getting me into a tailored suit the way some people fantasized about putting their lover into a nurse’s uniform. (He hated the boxy white suits the Elders put us in. He had seen me in a nurse’s uniform, including the high heels and short skirt.)

His body felt so warm against me that I decided I might as well let the robe slip off my shoulders and down my arms. With a happy growl he picked me up, and I cooperated by wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist. This kind of thing might be why he didn’t take my threats to cut him off seriously, but fuck it. He had his hands on my ass and I had a prime position to feel how hard he was.

That “anywhere you want” meant a lot, especially since Brad always researched the job markets of every place he considered taking us to and chose what he saw and sometime foresaw as the best opportunities. He’d brought us to London because London looked best. It said something that he’d give that up on my say-so.

When he put me down on my bed he took a while to look at me, drinking me in, light glinting off his glasses, before he started undoing the knot closures on my top, his hands shaking a little bit. It made me purr to have a powerful man who prided himself on his self-control so hot to have me that he had to fight his urge to rip into my clothing to take it off. For years he’d given the attitude that he only settled for sex with me for lack of anyone better around but that had changed too.

This time I made him work for it. If he wanted me, he’d have to undress and arouse me, convince me. His mouth quirked as he realized that, but it didn’t make him stop. Through experience he’d figured out what I liked, as I had done the same for him. In most cases telepathy let me know what my lover wanted and how it felt, and in most cases half of me coming was from feeling what my lover felt. I didn’t have that with Brad. He still surprised me....

I still surprised him. He’d expected my brocade top but not the butt plug. I didn’t have to read his mind to know how much it pleased him though, not when he smiled like that.

  **********************THE END***********************     More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room version 3.0 at http://viridian.shriftweb.org/   No-frames but no-frills access available at http://viridian.shriftweb.org/index2.htm