Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Twisted You ❯ The Game Begins ( Chapter 1 )

The Game Begins

Schuldig downed yet another shot, pressing a hand above his forehead to hold back otherwise unrestrained wild red hair.

Behind him, the slowly shifting mass of bodies pulsated in time to the music blasting from speakers set in every corner of the nightclub, loud enough to deafen, but not nearly loud enough to be clearly heard over a huge crowd of drunken homo sapiens.

Schuldig sighed.

Get totally drunk, get a partner, get laid. That was his plan for the night.

It wasn't going to happen, though; no one wanted to approach the dangerous, angry-looking redhead with a deep scowl etched into already sharp features.

Oh well. Can't be helped. Schuldig just couldn't manage to look pleasant when he was downright pissed. It was hard enough even if he did feel pleased.

Getting drunk, however, was accomplishable. The German lifted another mug to his lips, swallowing the liquid quickly, savoring the burning trail that led all the way from the back of his throat to the pit of his stomach. Feeling a little buzzed already, he knew it wouldn't be long before oblivion.

Then he would wait for Nagi to drag his unconscious ass home, on instructions from Crawford, of course.

The redhead frowned. Oh yeah, Crawford. That was the reason why he was trying to pass out. The American had once again effectively proven that he had a two-by-four wedged up his ass.

Or at least, Schuldig felt that was the only plausible theory.

Others included the 'Brad-is-actually-really-concerned-about-me' hypothesis, and the famous 'Brad-is-actually-an-eternally-PMSing-woman' one.

In any case, neither of them made a good excuse for anal behaviour, especially not when Schuldig's left cheekbone was bruised and hurt, courtesy of one Mr. Bradly Crawford and his hard, hard knuckles.

Schuldig scowled at his own distorted image in the glass mug. As bad as the lighting was, he could still see the bluish-black discolouration below his eye and spread a good area over his face.

Maybe that was why no one hit on him after all. Or maybe it was the bloodstain on the thigh of his white trousers that did it. Or maybe it was just the way he looked…

Realising that he was starting to get all tensed up, he forced himself to relax his rigid shoulders and calm down.

No way was he letting Crawford ruin his night.

And that was when Schuldig decided, the hell with it. He would just con someone into spending a night of cheap, hot sex with him in a dingy motel room.

He never considered himself to be a person of high morals anyway.

Letting his eyes slide shut, Schuldig carelessly scanned the area for a suitable candidate. The lucky person would have to be drunk enough to be simple to manipulate and must also be attractive.

Gender didn't matter much.

Let's see…one pretty brunette…she's with a partner, though. Don't wanna do 'em both…a redheaded uke-type guy…not too good-looking…this one's cute, but short and muscular, not my type…one Balinese kitten…ok, moving on…

Wait a minute…

Weiss!

Schuldig quickly restrained himself from spitting his beer all over the beefy bartender. Damn! So much for relaxation. He didn't doubt he could take on an armed kitty without a good weapon - Kudou brought his stupid watch everywhere he went and Schuldig's gun was on the backseat of his car - but Schuldig also happened to have a shot, bandaged leg and was half-drunk.

It seemed like the odds were against him.

Great. So what could he do? What could Kudou do, come to think of it? He couldn't attack the German, they were in a public place…

Schuldig decided to sit just right where he was. Cautiously, he probed Kudou's mind a little deeper. The blonde was slowly grinding his hips against a male partners' just fifteen feet or so away from Schuldig. The only reason why they hadn't spotted each other yet was the people packed into the space between them.

And the kitten was thinking about getting fucked senseless by this guy.

Schuldig was hardly surprised. He already knew, from prior 'visits' into Kudou's pretty little head, that he wasn't completely heterosexual, despite how he acted in front of his fellow flower pals. Having already established that he wasn't going to slink out of the back door like some poor, helpless prey, Schuldig, who wasn't getting any, thought he might as well watch the show.

After all, Kudou wasn't that ugly.

Slipping himself into the untrained mind of Kudou's current partner, he watched the show through his borrowed sight.

And it was quite a performance, too.

The blonde had detached himself from the man's groin in order to flaunt his other, humping-exclusive assets. Kudou did know oh so well how to best present his long, wiry body. He wasn't dancing as much as tossing his hair and making the muscles in his exposed abdomen ripple. He seemed even more beautiful than he already was in the dim light, which accentuated his wonderful sparkling green eyes and the light, alcohol-induced flush on his cheeks.

When he spun around and, with a teasing wiggle, pressed his behind against his partner and started to rock, Schuldig forgot to pull himself out. With mild horror, because this was the enemy, Schuldig felt the beginnings of his own hard-on as firm, rounded flesh ground against him…no, it was against the other man, but who really cared?

He groaned in dismay as Kudou pulled away…heard a question slip from soft, full lips…

"…my place, or a motel?"

And then they were leaving.

Schuldig slid off his barstool, giving in to another one of his crazy, irrational impulses. Using his telepathy to keep the crowd away and prevent Kudou from looking back, he was soon following the white convertible in his bright red sports car.

It took a little effort to suggest to Kudou's mind that the vehicle was not at all conspicuous.

The trip was thankfully short, and Schuldig stayed behind, waiting while Seven was being parked in front of a small flat, and the two of them stumbled out, groping and squeezing. Kudou owned one of the apartments, and he thought of it as a sort of safe house.

It was, in fact, just a place with a nice bed that he could bring people in to screw every night he didn't have a mission. He couldn't introduce strangers into the Koneko…too dangerous. And especially because, Kudou thought, the chibi could stumble in on them any time.

Schuldig snorted, climbing out of his car and walking into the darkness of the alley between the flat and a much taller building. He did have that problem too, and it arose from living with a cruel prick of a boss, a psychotic madman, and a kid whom he knew was hardly innocent, but looked too damn cute to corrupt. His solution was motels, but he supposed it was kind of nice to wake up in a familiar bed once in a while.

The German looked up at Kudou's curtains, once again entering his partner's mind, but focusing on the sensations this time. Damn, but they moved fast. The man was already slicking up Kudou. Fumbling at the top of his pants with fingers that felt as though they were encased in tight heat, Schuldig managed to push them down to his thighs, along with the briefs. Sighing, he pumped himself slowly with one hand.

Suddenly, it wasn't just his own rough palm on sensitive skin any more, but he was quickly inside Kudou, not too bothered with consideration, and it was hot and so tight and so good…

Perfect, Schuldig decided, biting his lower lip to keep himself from crying out. His other hand moved to stroke Kudou's shaft, and the man, not quite so experienced, paused in his own rhythm. Schuldig groaned, denied his pleasure.

After a pause, the man started moving again and with a particularly hard stroke, Kudou came, and this time, the redhead screamed as muscles clenched down upon him.

The blinding whiteness behind his eyelids slowly faded, and Schuldig realised that he was trembling slightly and leaning heavily on the dirty wall. With a small moan of protest, he forced his body to stand and zipped and fastened his pants with shaking hands. He didn't think that the pair upstairs, caught in their own orgasms, had heard him.

Straightening after another moment of recovery, he strolled deliberately to his car, reflecting that the next few months of his life were going to be fun.