Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ It's All Relative ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: LilyMoonsAlias 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.02.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 856 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Psychological / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.02.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 856 | Status: Work In Progress
"I'm not wearing that."
"Picky, Picky. Beggars can't be choosers, you know. What about this?"
"Where's the rest of it?"
"You have a nice body. You should show some skin."
"Some? That outfit leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. No."
"I think you are being purposefully bitchy. Here. One of my favorites."
"No, and hell no! That shirt just screams 'whore!'"
"That's not what it says."
"I am not wearing a shirt that has 'Bought and Paid For' printed on it in glitter."
"The redhead who wore the world's tackiest, clashing orange sweater on a regular basis is questioning my taste in fashion."
"No, I'm not."
"Oh, really?"
"I'm saying you have no taste at all."
"How can you say that when you haven't sampled?"
Aya threw the gaudy shirt he was holding at Schuldig's head. "Is there anything in that closet even remotely respectable?"
"Respectable is boring, and you're supposed to be attracting attention."
"I'm the wrong person for this job." Aya pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You like to attract attention. You should be the distraction."
Schuldig arched an elegant eyebrow at him. "Are you the telepath then? Can you fish the information from a lust addled mind? No. So, you and Crawford make a splash and I do my thing. We leave. We might even get in some drinks and dancing first."
"I don't do either."
"Kitten, you have been so abused and deprived."
Gods, was that real sympathy and pity in Schuldig's voice? Aya couldn't stand that.
"Can we please just get on with this?" Aya pulled a pale lavender silk shirt and low riding leather pants from the closet.
To Schuldig's amusement, he dressed in the privacy of his own room, finishing off the outfit with low heeled black boots and a simple gold chain. The telepath invited himself into the room and played with Aya's hair, much to his aggravation. The end result was tousled and sexy, veiling his orchid eyes and giving the impression he was keeping a secret. Aya slapped at his hands, but Schuldig managed to undo all but the middle two buttons of the shirt, leaving bare a toned chest and abdomen covered with soft pale skin. A light lining of kohl made Aya's exotic eyes look deeper and more mysterious. Schuldig finally released him after a spritzing of a very pleasant cologne.
"Outwardly you look like a hot, tasty morsel, but your mind says you're going to a funeral. Lighten up, Abyssinian, or you're going to blow it. I know you've been undercover before. You and Yohji even staked out an S & M club for a couple of nights."
"It was uncomfortable and demeaning. I hated every minute of it."
"Sooo, some people copped a few feels and you didn't even get the satisfaction of killing them. Poor baby." Schuldig stroked his cheeks with cool fingers. "Be glad you can't hear what really goes on in people's heads. I'm sure your body count would be much higher." Schuldig trailed his hand down Aya's bare chest and traced the waistband of the leather pants. "Suck it up and be a professional. Damn, I'm good. You look luscious."
"Yes, he looks good." Crawford lounged against the doorway. His dark charcoal suit with pale purple shirt and darker purple tie complemented Aya's attire perfectly. "I 'saw' what you would be wearing and dressed accordingly."
"You could have said something and saved me a few hours of aggravation." Aya sounded aggrieved.
"What and ruin all the fun?" Crawford's warm, honey eyes twinkled and he presented a blood red rose to Aya.
Aya hesitated to take it. "This isn't a real date, Crawford. It's a cover for a job."
"The smallest details can be important, and I leave nothing to chance, Abyssinian." Crawford caught Aya's free hand and curled it into the crook of his elbow. "We'll give them a good show, Schuldig will find out what we need to know and eliminate the target."
They got into the back seat of the car, Schuldig bitching about being designated driver. Crawford kept an arm around Aya to keep them touching.
"No one is watching, yet!" Aya protested.
"So, get used to it." Crawford countered. "Schuldig's right. You're going to blow it if you don't relax. If you don't want anyone else touching you, I can take care of that. It will just make me look possessive, but you can't be jumping every time I touch you."
Aya made a determined effort to relax. He leaned some of his weight against Crawford's body and pensively laced their fingers together on Crawford's knee. The ride was long enough for Aya to become accustomed to Crawford idly playing with his fingers and turning his head to whisper comments in his ear. That deep, smooth voice he clung to worked wonders on his tension. By the time they arrived at the club Aya was willing to take Crawford's hand for an assist from the car and remained pliant when his body was molded to Crawford's side.
However, he wasn't prepared for his effect on the crowd of people. Every pair of eyes they passed fixed themselves on the exotic looking man being escorted by the sexy, silver haired one. Aya's shoulders tightened painfully and he wished desperately for his katana. He felt more naked and exposed without his weapon than he did in the tight and revealing clothes. The difference was in the weight of the gaze, Aya decided. He had been stared at before, by the shop fangirls that swooped down in uniformed flocks, by the students that had watched him wistfully behind textbooks, but those looks had been mostly innocent. The eyes watching him here were rude and blatant, smoldering in intensity. Aya was trembling with tension again by the time they had traversed the club and were seated in a booth with the wall to their backs. Schuldig had shadowed them inside and was casing the crowd. No one paid any attention to the German so he had to be clouding their minds. He scanned the entire club and sent a message to Crawford.
/Not here, yet, and for God's sake, get the man a drink. He looks like he's going to pass out./
/You just keep your eyes open. I'll handle things here./
A waiter stopped at the table and openly admired Aya.
"What can I get for you gentlemen?"
"I'll have a Grey Goose martini," Crawford ordered. "And for my friend, I think, a 'Screaming Orgasm' to start."
/Oh God, look at his face! You are a devil, Brad./
/Shut up, Schuldig./ To Aya, "It's a drink, Aya. I don't think they serve rice wine here. Just try it."
"Hn."
Aya remained suspicious until the drinks arrived. His was a red concoction with a frilly little umbrella and cherries speared on a sword floating in it. He picked it up like it was poisonous and only sipped when Crawford smiled at him in challenge. The drink wasn't half bad, but the name puzzled him. Aya was no virgin, but the idea of a screaming orgasm eluded him, let alone naming a drink for one. He finished off the drink and sucked on one of the cherries, oblivious to the heated glances thrown his way.
/Fuck, that's hot! You better do something, Crawford, before someone tries to step in./
/No one would dare!/ Crawford spared a lazy look for his telepath. /You better increase your shielding before someone notices the redhead stroking himself at the bar. Get it together, Schuldig. Reinhardt will be arriving soon. He can't see you./
Crawford plucked the cherry stem from Aya's lips.
"Another drink, love?"
Aya flushed with surprised pleasure until he remembered his role. Right, not a real date. He couldn't forget that. Crawford watched him try to withdraw into himself. He cupped the back of Aya's crimson head and brushed their cheeks together, whispering a tickling breath into his ear.
"You're doing fine, Aya. Have another drink. You need to trust me. We'll have to dance to keep Reinhardt's attention when he arrives."
Aya kept his wide, purple eyes trained on Crawford's face. Shit, Crawford was going to make him dance. It would be a horrendous spectacle, he was sure.
"Fine, then. What other strange American drink do you want to pour down my throat?" Aya murmured, his lips ghosting over Crawford's.
The Oracle blinked a few times. The Abyssinian was having quite an effect on him. He could hear Schuldig snickering in his mind as he reined in the impulse to devour the moist, red lips that surely tasted of cherries now. The snickering turned into a loud, braying laugh when he waved the waiter over and ordered their next drinks.
"Bring us two rounds of 'Fuck me Hard'."
Aya blushed hotly. "You Americans are so weird."
The new drinks arrived and Aya could swear it contained more alcohol than he had ever consumed before in one sitting. He gamely sipped half of it until he started to feel lightheaded. He felt loose enough to flirt with Crawford when Schuldig's voice rang in both their heads.
/Target's here. He's already homed in on you and Abby Cat./ Schuldig paused to concentrate and his next words dripped with disdain. /Pathetic. He doesn't recognize you without your glasses and with the silver hair. This will be too easy. Get on the dance floor and keep him distracted so I can pick his brain clean. Fucking idiot. He's too buzzed with lust to even bother shielding./
Crawford led Aya onto the dance floor. Schuldig must have been using his power because the crowd parted around them and left them in a more open space and the DJ obliged with a slow, sultry song that had a throbbing bass line.
"Crawford, I don't know how.."
"Trust me." Crawford placed Aya's arms around his neck, making it look like a show of control, and pulled their bodies tightly together. He parted Aya's legs easily and kept one thigh between them. "Just follow my body."
So close together, Aya could feel every inch of Crawford's hard body. The heat seared him through the thin silk of his shirt. He locked his hands behind Crawford's head and allowed the older man to steer his body, rubbing them together in time to the music. Aya gave himself up to the music and focused solely on the warm honey eyes that watched his every move with burning intensity. He threw his head back and bared the pale column of his throat as he moved against Crawford's thigh. His lips parted in open invitation as the music and the drinks combined to dissolve his last inhibitions and he ground himself against the other man's body. It had been so long, too long, since anyone had made him feel desired, since he had felt any desire for another person. Aya was drowning in sensation and hungry for more.
Damning the consequences, Aya pulled Crawford's head down and covered his lips. The kiss was hot and demanding. Ever dominating, Crawford molded their hips together and took control of the kiss, gripping Aya's hair and plundering the depths of his mouth. Still moving with the music, they waged war with tongues and teeth, no obvious victor. Aya moaned into Crawford's mouth and tried to press himself closer, irritated with the clothes and wanting skin to skin contact. Crawford nipped his tongue and slid a hand up the back of the silk shirt to trace soothing patterns on sweat dewed skin. He could have this, Crawford thought. He could have this so easily and right here and now. Aya was right in his arms, wanton and willing...and at least partially drunk on some seriously hard liquor. Because he knew it would be over too soon Crawford drank again the sweetness of Aya's mouth, drawing moans of need from the usually cold man. They almost stopped dancing altogether to just rock in mimicry of a more intimate dance. All eyes were on them, including the eyes of their target.
/Break it up, kids. Job's done. I have the information and Reinhardt is a sack of meat in the dumpster out back./
Schuldig's voice dumped Aya back into harsh reality. He became aware of his panting breathing and painful arousal, the leather pants constricting him. He instinctively tried to follow Crawford's lips when the other man stepped back. His confusion shone from his purple eyes from beneath his mussed hair. Crawford winked at him, cool and composed as usual. Now, no one could look at him and tell he had been practically having sex on the dance floor a few minutes earlier. Aya felt frustrated and unfinished.
"Time to go." Crawford lead him by the hand off the dance floor and out the main entrance where Schuldig waited with the car. The telepath was buzzing with desire and had a wild and dangerous air about him.
Confused, aroused, and feeling unreasonably hurt, Aya climbed into the back seat and sat as far from Crawford as possible. The ride back to the house was spent discussing the information Schuldig had culled from the other talent. Aya only listened and remained silent. His head was starting to ache and his stomach was upset from the strong drinks. Schuldig let them out at the house and announced he was going back out to have some fun on his own. The telepath's blue eyes glowed with both his own and borrowed lust. He needed to find someone. Although he could taste Aya's unfulfilled desire, Schuldig didn't doubt Crawford would castrate him if he tried to 'soothe' the Abyssinian.
Aya turned to head for his room when Crawford stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Good job tonight, Aya."
Aya should have felt complimented or accomplished, instead he just felt a hollowness in his chest. It was just a job. Suddenly, he really wanted a shower and his bed. Crawford let him go and watched with thoughtful speculation as the redhead hurried up the stairs.
"Picky, Picky. Beggars can't be choosers, you know. What about this?"
"Where's the rest of it?"
"You have a nice body. You should show some skin."
"Some? That outfit leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. No."
"I think you are being purposefully bitchy. Here. One of my favorites."
"No, and hell no! That shirt just screams 'whore!'"
"That's not what it says."
"I am not wearing a shirt that has 'Bought and Paid For' printed on it in glitter."
"The redhead who wore the world's tackiest, clashing orange sweater on a regular basis is questioning my taste in fashion."
"No, I'm not."
"Oh, really?"
"I'm saying you have no taste at all."
"How can you say that when you haven't sampled?"
Aya threw the gaudy shirt he was holding at Schuldig's head. "Is there anything in that closet even remotely respectable?"
"Respectable is boring, and you're supposed to be attracting attention."
"I'm the wrong person for this job." Aya pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You like to attract attention. You should be the distraction."
Schuldig arched an elegant eyebrow at him. "Are you the telepath then? Can you fish the information from a lust addled mind? No. So, you and Crawford make a splash and I do my thing. We leave. We might even get in some drinks and dancing first."
"I don't do either."
"Kitten, you have been so abused and deprived."
Gods, was that real sympathy and pity in Schuldig's voice? Aya couldn't stand that.
"Can we please just get on with this?" Aya pulled a pale lavender silk shirt and low riding leather pants from the closet.
To Schuldig's amusement, he dressed in the privacy of his own room, finishing off the outfit with low heeled black boots and a simple gold chain. The telepath invited himself into the room and played with Aya's hair, much to his aggravation. The end result was tousled and sexy, veiling his orchid eyes and giving the impression he was keeping a secret. Aya slapped at his hands, but Schuldig managed to undo all but the middle two buttons of the shirt, leaving bare a toned chest and abdomen covered with soft pale skin. A light lining of kohl made Aya's exotic eyes look deeper and more mysterious. Schuldig finally released him after a spritzing of a very pleasant cologne.
"Outwardly you look like a hot, tasty morsel, but your mind says you're going to a funeral. Lighten up, Abyssinian, or you're going to blow it. I know you've been undercover before. You and Yohji even staked out an S & M club for a couple of nights."
"It was uncomfortable and demeaning. I hated every minute of it."
"Sooo, some people copped a few feels and you didn't even get the satisfaction of killing them. Poor baby." Schuldig stroked his cheeks with cool fingers. "Be glad you can't hear what really goes on in people's heads. I'm sure your body count would be much higher." Schuldig trailed his hand down Aya's bare chest and traced the waistband of the leather pants. "Suck it up and be a professional. Damn, I'm good. You look luscious."
"Yes, he looks good." Crawford lounged against the doorway. His dark charcoal suit with pale purple shirt and darker purple tie complemented Aya's attire perfectly. "I 'saw' what you would be wearing and dressed accordingly."
"You could have said something and saved me a few hours of aggravation." Aya sounded aggrieved.
"What and ruin all the fun?" Crawford's warm, honey eyes twinkled and he presented a blood red rose to Aya.
Aya hesitated to take it. "This isn't a real date, Crawford. It's a cover for a job."
"The smallest details can be important, and I leave nothing to chance, Abyssinian." Crawford caught Aya's free hand and curled it into the crook of his elbow. "We'll give them a good show, Schuldig will find out what we need to know and eliminate the target."
They got into the back seat of the car, Schuldig bitching about being designated driver. Crawford kept an arm around Aya to keep them touching.
"No one is watching, yet!" Aya protested.
"So, get used to it." Crawford countered. "Schuldig's right. You're going to blow it if you don't relax. If you don't want anyone else touching you, I can take care of that. It will just make me look possessive, but you can't be jumping every time I touch you."
Aya made a determined effort to relax. He leaned some of his weight against Crawford's body and pensively laced their fingers together on Crawford's knee. The ride was long enough for Aya to become accustomed to Crawford idly playing with his fingers and turning his head to whisper comments in his ear. That deep, smooth voice he clung to worked wonders on his tension. By the time they arrived at the club Aya was willing to take Crawford's hand for an assist from the car and remained pliant when his body was molded to Crawford's side.
However, he wasn't prepared for his effect on the crowd of people. Every pair of eyes they passed fixed themselves on the exotic looking man being escorted by the sexy, silver haired one. Aya's shoulders tightened painfully and he wished desperately for his katana. He felt more naked and exposed without his weapon than he did in the tight and revealing clothes. The difference was in the weight of the gaze, Aya decided. He had been stared at before, by the shop fangirls that swooped down in uniformed flocks, by the students that had watched him wistfully behind textbooks, but those looks had been mostly innocent. The eyes watching him here were rude and blatant, smoldering in intensity. Aya was trembling with tension again by the time they had traversed the club and were seated in a booth with the wall to their backs. Schuldig had shadowed them inside and was casing the crowd. No one paid any attention to the German so he had to be clouding their minds. He scanned the entire club and sent a message to Crawford.
/Not here, yet, and for God's sake, get the man a drink. He looks like he's going to pass out./
/You just keep your eyes open. I'll handle things here./
A waiter stopped at the table and openly admired Aya.
"What can I get for you gentlemen?"
"I'll have a Grey Goose martini," Crawford ordered. "And for my friend, I think, a 'Screaming Orgasm' to start."
/Oh God, look at his face! You are a devil, Brad./
/Shut up, Schuldig./ To Aya, "It's a drink, Aya. I don't think they serve rice wine here. Just try it."
"Hn."
Aya remained suspicious until the drinks arrived. His was a red concoction with a frilly little umbrella and cherries speared on a sword floating in it. He picked it up like it was poisonous and only sipped when Crawford smiled at him in challenge. The drink wasn't half bad, but the name puzzled him. Aya was no virgin, but the idea of a screaming orgasm eluded him, let alone naming a drink for one. He finished off the drink and sucked on one of the cherries, oblivious to the heated glances thrown his way.
/Fuck, that's hot! You better do something, Crawford, before someone tries to step in./
/No one would dare!/ Crawford spared a lazy look for his telepath. /You better increase your shielding before someone notices the redhead stroking himself at the bar. Get it together, Schuldig. Reinhardt will be arriving soon. He can't see you./
Crawford plucked the cherry stem from Aya's lips.
"Another drink, love?"
Aya flushed with surprised pleasure until he remembered his role. Right, not a real date. He couldn't forget that. Crawford watched him try to withdraw into himself. He cupped the back of Aya's crimson head and brushed their cheeks together, whispering a tickling breath into his ear.
"You're doing fine, Aya. Have another drink. You need to trust me. We'll have to dance to keep Reinhardt's attention when he arrives."
Aya kept his wide, purple eyes trained on Crawford's face. Shit, Crawford was going to make him dance. It would be a horrendous spectacle, he was sure.
"Fine, then. What other strange American drink do you want to pour down my throat?" Aya murmured, his lips ghosting over Crawford's.
The Oracle blinked a few times. The Abyssinian was having quite an effect on him. He could hear Schuldig snickering in his mind as he reined in the impulse to devour the moist, red lips that surely tasted of cherries now. The snickering turned into a loud, braying laugh when he waved the waiter over and ordered their next drinks.
"Bring us two rounds of 'Fuck me Hard'."
Aya blushed hotly. "You Americans are so weird."
The new drinks arrived and Aya could swear it contained more alcohol than he had ever consumed before in one sitting. He gamely sipped half of it until he started to feel lightheaded. He felt loose enough to flirt with Crawford when Schuldig's voice rang in both their heads.
/Target's here. He's already homed in on you and Abby Cat./ Schuldig paused to concentrate and his next words dripped with disdain. /Pathetic. He doesn't recognize you without your glasses and with the silver hair. This will be too easy. Get on the dance floor and keep him distracted so I can pick his brain clean. Fucking idiot. He's too buzzed with lust to even bother shielding./
Crawford led Aya onto the dance floor. Schuldig must have been using his power because the crowd parted around them and left them in a more open space and the DJ obliged with a slow, sultry song that had a throbbing bass line.
"Crawford, I don't know how.."
"Trust me." Crawford placed Aya's arms around his neck, making it look like a show of control, and pulled their bodies tightly together. He parted Aya's legs easily and kept one thigh between them. "Just follow my body."
So close together, Aya could feel every inch of Crawford's hard body. The heat seared him through the thin silk of his shirt. He locked his hands behind Crawford's head and allowed the older man to steer his body, rubbing them together in time to the music. Aya gave himself up to the music and focused solely on the warm honey eyes that watched his every move with burning intensity. He threw his head back and bared the pale column of his throat as he moved against Crawford's thigh. His lips parted in open invitation as the music and the drinks combined to dissolve his last inhibitions and he ground himself against the other man's body. It had been so long, too long, since anyone had made him feel desired, since he had felt any desire for another person. Aya was drowning in sensation and hungry for more.
Damning the consequences, Aya pulled Crawford's head down and covered his lips. The kiss was hot and demanding. Ever dominating, Crawford molded their hips together and took control of the kiss, gripping Aya's hair and plundering the depths of his mouth. Still moving with the music, they waged war with tongues and teeth, no obvious victor. Aya moaned into Crawford's mouth and tried to press himself closer, irritated with the clothes and wanting skin to skin contact. Crawford nipped his tongue and slid a hand up the back of the silk shirt to trace soothing patterns on sweat dewed skin. He could have this, Crawford thought. He could have this so easily and right here and now. Aya was right in his arms, wanton and willing...and at least partially drunk on some seriously hard liquor. Because he knew it would be over too soon Crawford drank again the sweetness of Aya's mouth, drawing moans of need from the usually cold man. They almost stopped dancing altogether to just rock in mimicry of a more intimate dance. All eyes were on them, including the eyes of their target.
/Break it up, kids. Job's done. I have the information and Reinhardt is a sack of meat in the dumpster out back./
Schuldig's voice dumped Aya back into harsh reality. He became aware of his panting breathing and painful arousal, the leather pants constricting him. He instinctively tried to follow Crawford's lips when the other man stepped back. His confusion shone from his purple eyes from beneath his mussed hair. Crawford winked at him, cool and composed as usual. Now, no one could look at him and tell he had been practically having sex on the dance floor a few minutes earlier. Aya felt frustrated and unfinished.
"Time to go." Crawford lead him by the hand off the dance floor and out the main entrance where Schuldig waited with the car. The telepath was buzzing with desire and had a wild and dangerous air about him.
Confused, aroused, and feeling unreasonably hurt, Aya climbed into the back seat and sat as far from Crawford as possible. The ride back to the house was spent discussing the information Schuldig had culled from the other talent. Aya only listened and remained silent. His head was starting to ache and his stomach was upset from the strong drinks. Schuldig let them out at the house and announced he was going back out to have some fun on his own. The telepath's blue eyes glowed with both his own and borrowed lust. He needed to find someone. Although he could taste Aya's unfulfilled desire, Schuldig didn't doubt Crawford would castrate him if he tried to 'soothe' the Abyssinian.
Aya turned to head for his room when Crawford stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Good job tonight, Aya."
Aya should have felt complimented or accomplished, instead he just felt a hollowness in his chest. It was just a job. Suddenly, he really wanted a shower and his bed. Crawford let him go and watched with thoughtful speculation as the redhead hurried up the stairs.