Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Thrill Kill ❯ One-Shot

"Thrill Kill"
By Viridian5
4/8/03

RATING: NC-17; Schuldig/Farfarello. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by.
SPOILERS: None, really.
SUMMARY: Schuldig and Farfarello make their work a pleasure.
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. These entities are far more disturbed than I am....
NOTES: This is one of my Schuldig/Farfarello stories. Guess what kind of fun they’ll be up to. Consider this a warning.
The initial idea came to me while waiting for My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult to finish setting up and play. Talking with Kasha helped too.
The lyrics Schuldig does aren’t mine. Maya nailed their origins within seconds, but that comes from shared musical tastes.

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"Thrill Kill"
By Viridian5
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As the door opened and we entered the club, the sound hit us like a fist. Even I felt its rhythmic thrum in my flesh, pounding, pounding, pounding. Everyone around us danced as if they were receiving electroshock. Schuldig had his head back and eyes closed and a look of utter exaltation on his face while he held his arms outspread, as if he wanted to embrace the whole crowd.

I pulled on a lock of his bright, light-struck hair to get his attention and shouted into his ear, "And yet I’m the one who wears the leash."

Schuldig grinned lazily, looking stoned, and stroked the end of my leash. "You’re prettier in it than I am."

We both wore all black and dog collars, though only mine had a leash and tag attached. My tag, like the leash, came from Schuldig. He’d gotten it engraved--he said you could find a vending machine for everything in Japan--with "Jei, answers to Farfarello" and the address of my childhood home. It was his idea of a joke and a reminder that he could read my deepest thoughts if he tried hard enough. In my idea of a joke, I wore it sometimes, like tonight. The "silver" showed well against all of my black. I’d used black electrical tape as bindings around my arms and to fasten my bandages, and I liked the effect. Wait. The bandages are white. Well, we are all liars. But our gloves were black. We would leave no tell-tales.

I couldn’t wait to kill.

"Pay attention," I said, punctuating my words with another tug of his hair.

His whole body moved to the music. "It’s like being in a candy store where the candy can call your name. ‘Eat me,’ they’re all saying."

I understood his distraction, with the crushing, writhing crowd and all the noise and lights and acrid smells and darkness and sweat and moving targets. So much flesh to rip and break. Some people might consider this to be an apt representation of hell, though I enjoyed the stimulation and chaos. How much harder it must be for Schuldig, who could feel their emotions too, to remain focused. He bled a little of it to me, giving me wild exultation and a hot curl of sensation in my belly. Feral lust. It made me hungry.

"I want our target, Schuldig. Fetch."

He shot me a sour look. "Yet you have no sense of humor."

"None."

"No sense of poetic justice or irony."

"None."

Schuldig had once claimed that sarcasm hurt God. Since I agreed, I let myself be more sarcastic.

"I’m not your dog."

"You are mine; I am yours."

He snorted but smiled, far too high on the crowd to mind. When he closed his eyes, I could almost feel him reaching out with his power, sorting though the minds here. He whimpered and bit his lip. Once it started to bleed, I had to lick at it a little and purr at its taste of metal and life. When he opened his eyes, he pulled at my hair and shouted, "Found him." Then he dropped my leash, and it hit a girl close by. From the angry look on her face, it must have stung. Once she took a good look at us, she quickly turned away.

As Schuldig moved, the black-clad crowd parted before him. He was Moses on a murder mission, and I kept a hand on his shoulder to better follow in his wake. He touched the people around him with light brushes of his hands, and they whimpered, sighed, or shuddered in response. Some of them pounced their companions or anyone nearby with a devouring lust. Not quite faith healing. He walked with a slink and sway, under the spell of the pounding, demanding music.

I felt a tug holding me back as I tried to move. Someone had picked up the end of my leash. I looked back at the boy and smiled. He abruptly dropped it and backed off. Nobody wanted to play.

"They realize that you like to play rough, Farfarello," Schuldig shouted back to me.

"They like to play too," I answered as I watched children fling themselves at each other in front of the stage, seemingly too high on adrenaline to feel the pain they inflicted on one another.

"No moshing. We’re only allowed one fatality here."

"What about a maiming?"

"You know."

"Crawford is no fun."

"That’s for sure."

Schuldig took me to the front, near the metal barriers that kept the audience away from the stage. Onstage, a small Japanese girl sang and screamed as if her torment had to come out now or she would bleed to death. The band thundered behind her in a roar of snapping drums, thrumming bass, and crunching electric guitars. "I don’t believe I could be so stupid and naïve," Schuldig sang along with her as we walked and the writhing children stepped out of our way, not knowing why they did so.

"You couldn’t carry a tune with two hands," I shouted into his ear.

"Fuck you."

Through his bleed-off, I could feel his excitement grow as we approached our quarry. Good hunting hound. ~Lay off the hound shit,~ he said into my head. His hair brushed my lips.

Finally Schuldig stopped when he stood next to a boy. Our target’s friends already began to back away, to give us room to work. They probably couldn’t see him anymore and didn’t notice his absence. I walked around him to stand on his other side and await my moment.

Schuldig rubbed against him like the friendliest of cats. ~Yuki.~ The boy looked up at him, and I wondered what he thought of the tall gaijin stranger so infringing on him. From his sudden smile, it seemed that he didn’t consider it an infringement at all. ~I came here just for you,~ Schuldig purred, and his mental voice had texture. Even I, who felt almost nothing, recognized its sensuality. The boy fell to him, taken in by truth twisted and used as a silken strangling cord and Schuldig’s gloved hands running along his body.

Crawford hadn’t specified a murder method. I thrummed with wondering what Schuldig would do and how long he’d make me wait.

They writhed together in time to the music. It blatantly frustrated the boy that Schuldig wouldn’t let him touch his face, but the frustration only seemed to make him hotter, as he scrabbled at Schuldig for more. As I wondered if he felt the bleed-off, I toyed with my switchblade, extending and retracting the blade. Sexual. Everything was sexual.

Maybe I felt too much of Schuldig’s bleed-off.

They did a kind of hard bounce up and down, like the rest of the crowd, and I bounced too so I wouldn’t miss my moment when it came. "You’re dancing, Farfie," Schuldig mouthed to me. I bared my teeth at him.

He ran his hand through the boy’s shiny black hair and then pulled it to bare his neck to me. My breath quickened, and I struck, but what should have been a clean, surgical stab turned into a zigzag as the boy kept moving to the music. Lust exploded within me as the red blossomed and pulsed. I wanted to drink straight from the source, the very fount of life. I wanted, but all I could do was accept the far less heady option of licking the blood off my knife. I hated the gloves that insulated my hands from my surroundings, because I loved to feel the deaths I caused through my fingers.

The boy made sounds that could have been pain or pleasure, but the movement of his hips and his sudden change in scent told me that I’d made him come. It made me harder.

"Your arms look so powerful as they hold me down," Schuldig sang along to himself as he kept stroking our dying victim, who seemed to still be enjoying it. Schuldig wanted to kiss and nuzzle and bite, I could tell. While he was so cool most of the time, I’ve seen him claw at victims in some effort to get inside or get more. Sometimes it struck him as a deep hunger for flesh to flesh contact. But right now he could no more do that than I could set my mouth to the hot red spilling from the boy’s neck with such abandon. We couldn’t leave anything the authorities might track. No DNA, no fingerprints, no saliva.

Schuldig’s eyes, wild and frustrated, met mine over the top of the boy’s head. I tossed him the end of my leash. He grabbed it and yanked me close, then pressed his lips down hard on mine, reopening the tiny wounds in his lip. He tasted of blood, cigarettes, and candy. Schuldig slid one finger under my collar and hooked it in to keep me in place, as if I had anywhere else to go. The collar tightening around the back of my neck and the feel of his finger pressing hard against my carotid artery made me sigh.

The boy, caught between us, fisted one hand in my leather vest and gasped. The music pounded through me, him, and Schuldig, making a chain. Schuldig flowed into me, letting me feel his high and lust and the boy humping him as he died and the boy’s lust and high, fading as his life faded. Such beautiful torment. I groaned and pressed in closer, harder.

The boy eclipsed, sliding away into the darkness, sagging against Schuldig, who waited until the last moment to leave his mind and cut off my link to him. Toying with the experience of death was a sport to him.

~How do you want to leave him?~

"I want to crucify him. He’d be so pretty with spikes though his hands and feet," I murmured against his upper lip.

~Put him up for the night? That would take more effort than I want to bother with.~ Schuldig pulled away from me, giving my lips one last flick with his tongue, then propped our victim on the metal barrier, positioning the arms in a way that nearly resembled the crucifixion pose. Maybe it appealed to his sense of humor.

It wasn’t enough. For either of us.

I pulled off my gloves and ran a few fingers down the pale, hot column of Schuldig’s neck, making him shudder. So sensitive, my opposite, so easy. As he turned to face me, he must have stopped doing the telepathic trick that had kept the crowd away from us because they surged forward, smearing me up against him. His hips moved to the beat, grinding our hard cocks together.

"You’d have sex with anyone in the room who’d take you," I shouted at him so he’d hear me. I preferred talking to thinking at him.

"You say that like it’s a problem."

"It’s not a problem. God hates what you are, but I enjoy it at times."

"At times?"

"Times like now more than others."

He smirked. "Complete me."

I gyrated with him by default as I crushed him to me. The crowd surged forward again, and an elbow hit me in the back of the head. My own elbow flew back in response and hit hard enough to elicit a grunt of pain I could hear even over the roaring music. Another surge threw us against the metal barrier, forcing me to lash back again. It felt like I broke someone’s arm. Good.

"Fucking kids have no sense of romance," Schuldig growled as he rubbed his back, which had hit the barrier.

"Fucking kids have no sense of fucking."

"What are they coming to today? You know, there are booths against the wall. We wouldn’t get crushed if I get distracted." He undulated against me. "I hope to get distracted."

He had no shame. ~ Shame is a sucker’s game. ~ True.

My leash in hand, Schuldig pulled away from me and walked through the spaces that cleared before him. Undistracted, he could do that easily. I followed. The first time or two, I’d thought to toy with him by putting him off. He just found someone else to satisfy his urges.

I could play once I had him writhing under and around my fingers, unable to leave.

~ I’m listening, you know. ~

"But I can make it hurt so good," I said into his ear.

~ Bringing out the clichés already? ~

But the people in the booth Schuldig wanted suddenly felt the urge to leave, so he must not have minded clichés. He turned to face me and let his long coat slide down off his arms once he’d emptied the booth. I opened the fly of his leather pants, cupping the hard heat there for a moment, then pushed him down onto the long seat and felt the tug at my collar from the leash. Sitting with his legs spread, he looked up at me with challenge and expectancy in his face, his mouth stretched into a smug, waiting smile. The strobe lights hid and revealed him by turns. I crouched in front of him and then moved forward onto him, forcing him to lie down. Still smiling, he wiggled under me and wound the leash tighter around his hand.

Some of his smugness faded as I ground down hard against him and rubbed my teeth along his neck before meeting his mouth with mine, hard. The bare fingers of his free hand plucked at my clothing and skin, demanding more. I might give it, if I felt like it.

~ ‘If you feel like it’? Like hell. ~

Exactly like.

I felt him smile.

We balanced precariously on the cushioned bench, only one wrong move away from hitting the floor. Schuldig humped me, and I knew that with all the stimulation for him in this club he could come like this. Too soon. I wanted to fuck him, needing to release some of the frustration screaming through my body at being deprived of the full experience of my kill.

~ You’d get actual sex more often if you didn’t confuse your knife with your cock all the time. ~

"Shhh," I answered as I pulled up off him enough to slide my hand under his underwear and over his cock. The leash didn’t let me go very far. I idly ran my thumb down his length and smiled as he pushed himself up for more.

"Is that supposed to shut me up? It’s nowhere near enough," he said.

"If you give me some slack in the leash, I can stand and pull your pants off."

"But I like having you like this."

"Then I’ll have to be content with tormenting you." I slowed the drag of my thumb along his cock. "Since I can’t reach anything else...."

He growled and unwound the leash a little. Given the ability to move, I yanked his pants and underwear down to his ankles. There they would hobble him if necessary. He didn’t need to go anywhere. Then I grabbed his tight shirt, making it pull up to reveal his belly, and yanked him up to stand with me.

Knowing my intentions, he said into my ear, "Yeah, nobody’s gonna interfere, Farfie."

I realized that most of the crowd seemed far too interested in the people around them to worry about us, though the band kept playing, channeling their lust into their music. Schuldig had kickstarted an orgy. "A bit flashy," I said back.

"I gotta be me."

I turned him around and bent him over the table, moving carefully myself at the end of my leash. His pale skin glowed under the shifting lights, and I licked the sweat off the small of his back to add to its shine. He looked vulnerable like this, and even though I knew better, the sight affected me. "More slack, Schuldig," I said against the hard knobs of his spine just to make him quiver. If he couldn’t hear me, he could read it off my surface.

He unwound the leash a little more and sank me deeper into the pool of sex and sensation he drowned in. Even with the distance my cracked body and mind had built in, I felt the influence and wanting pound within me, almost in time to the music, so I undid my pants to release some of the pressure. I wondered if he could still think at all.

Growing more impatient, I rummaged through his coat lying on the seat until I found the slick and condoms. He didn’t consider himself dressed without them. While I would have been more than happy to just plunge in without them, he would dole out extreme punishment if I tried, and not any kind of punishment I would enjoy. I couldn’t count on him being too distracted by the crowd to notice me taking liberties. Besides, I’d learned that I could torture him with pleasure and anticipation, so I contented myself with those.

Though I might forego his torment tonight in favor of getting myself off quickly. Not that he’d mind.

His long body twisted and twisted as I thrust two slicked fingers in and immediately added a third, then a fourth. Knowing his insides by experience and feel, I worked his prostate hard and ruthlessly, smiling as he panted, pushed back at me, and rubbed his cock against the edge of the table. Through Schuldig, I felt something rising in the crowd, rising in him. Climax approaching like a bullet train. I fought it--I would not be controlled by something outside of myself, never again--but still felt its pull on my body.

"I hate this," I snarled as I pulled my fingers out, unwilling to be part of this at all. Suddenly a heavy, muffling psychic curtain seemed to drop between me and the rest of the room. Relief. Only my own lust and a bit of Schuldig’s remained. I ran one hand down his back in thanks. His look back at me over his shoulder seemed weighted.

I could repay his kindness.

I put the condom on and thrust in on one, long stroke, sheathing myself. Good. This was good, tight and right. Schuldig gasped out a long, breathy "ahhhh." I could tell that he couldn’t turn off the crowd for himself as well as he could for me, because I could feel his muscles clenching to come in time with the winding down crowd and music. I made a fist around the base of his cock to stop him, and he made a deep, grumbling sound of angry frustration and clawed the already scarred tabletop. I thrust harder, deeper, faster, feeling my own orgasm arriving in its own time. Feel me, Schuldig.

The band and crowd loudly hit their own completion, but I kept going. Schuldig cursed me out, whimpered, and yanked on my leash as he bucked under me. Finally I came, seeing red and white sparks, and jerked his cock hard. Actually, I knew I only had to let go of it, but I felt that it would be a nice gesture to give a push too. He shouted and spasmed as orgasm hit him and jerked on the leash hard enough to almost bring me down onto him and the table.

I took long, deep breaths, purged of the restlessness, and heard the room breathe with me. Schuldig lay limply under me, smiling, looking younger, softer, innocent. It amused me that fucking gave him the appearance of a state of grace. Then his eyes opened, and he looked hard, smug, and sardonic again.

He’d clutched the leash so tightly that it had left red marks on his hand.

"Let’s blow this joint," he said.

"Didn’t you do that already?"

He looked around at the sweaty, barely dressed, confused crowd and the shell-shocked band. "And I can’t even charge them."

The next morning, Crawford sat the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and looking far too casual. Walking in behind me, Schuldig already had a smirk on his face. We each waited for it in our own way: I by leaning against the counter, toying idly with a knife, and Schuldig by ignoring him completely and taking a long drink directly out of the milk container. I couldn’t help smirking as Crawford twitched over Schuldig’s actions.

He should count himself lucky that we’d showered, slept, and changed, gained some distance from last night wildness. Schuldig would have been flaunting himself and ignoring Crawford at the same time otherwise.

"The authorities are still trying to piece together what happened at the club last night. Aside from the orgy. It’s quite the sensation on the news," Crawford said. "The current thinking on Ieyasu Yuki’s death is that it was a kinky sex act gone wrong. That wasn’t in your orders."

I said nothing. Schuldig said nothing as he took out a large sausage to cook for breakfast and trusted Crawford to get his point.

When we continued to say nothing, Crawford continued, "It’s a good thing that our client likes what this does to the boy’s family’s reputation and all the publicity, because otherwise there would have been punishment."

"Is that supposed to discourage me?" Schuldig asked. I smiled and licked my lips.

Of course, we both knew that Crawford had to have had some idea of how the night would go. You couldn’t send Schuldig into a place like that without getting side effects. He might have even foreseen some of it....

~ With all the body fluids around and the trampling of the corpse, the investigators don’t have a hope in hell of finding the truth. Yeah, he foresaw it. Brad’s actually happy. He was just playing with us. ~

Crawford likes his games. I don’t.

But I tolerated them as long as I got something out of them.

  ***********************THE END**********************