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Conundrum	By : CardDragonBall Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Conundrum
- 1
Title: Conundrum

Author: Card AND Casey (who did Omi's dialogue and gave me the reactions in almost all circumstances.)

Fandom: Weiss Kreuz

Rating: Nc-17

Pairing/Characters: Schuldig/Omi (yes you read that right, and its even *consensual* le gasp!)

Warnings: SMUT! Yay! Lots of smut. Slash-smut. (Two boys humping like yaks on Cialas--because the moment was right yaknow.)

*I give you this warning: Omi is 15 and Schuldig is 20, now, in Japan, consensual sex between these two ages is completely legal. However, I acknowledge that some people won't like it, so I'm warning you. Be warned.

Schuldig liked to keep his options open--made sense really, in his profession with his particular specialty to leave open multiple venues to getting him what he wanted. Takatori had given him the job five years ago, to wipe the mind of his kid. (His oh-so-very wonderful employer thought that Schuldig was capable of just removing the memories like deleting files from a computer--human minds were more complicated. All he could do was disconnect the channels that tied Mamoru's consciousness to his memories. Took nearly ten hours to get it all done. And he slept for a full thirteen hours after.) After the job was done he could have just walked away. Was supposed to, according to Takatori. If he had done his job right than Mamoru would never remember those nasty little secrets he knew about his supposed Daddy. Therefore Mamoru was a neutralized threat, therefore--no further contact needed to be had. Takatori moved on with his life, assuming Mamoru--without a memory or a home or an identity--would be lost or killed or whatever other fate befell such children.

Takatori, however, was proving to be a short-sighted idiot with a grandeur issue. So he kept the option open, in case he ever needed the kid for some purpose the future would reveal.

Found the boy wandering around, smiled at him and talked to him and wormed his way into the kid's good graces. (Didn't ask him to remember the past that had been wiped out of his mind's reach, maybe that was why the kid relaxed around him.)

Caught up with the kid every five to eight months, somewhere random where little Omi--that was his name now, Tsukiyono Omi--wouldn't really question the coincidental nature of their meeting. Always went somewhere for a drink or something to eat and talked for a while like they were such great friends. Omi telling him some nonsense or another about his life and Schuldig asking questions and offering lies about his own.

Nice pattern they had fallen into. It broke somewhere before the fourth year, he lost track of him, caught up in another one of the brilliant moron's wonderful plans. (Babysitting his nearly spineless son, for example, or keeping an eye on the other son--the sadistic fuck that had far too much fun with his chemistry set.) Remembered Omi because of the five year rule. (Which Takatori in all his supposed brilliance and wonderful potential knew absolutely nothing about. The five year rule was a law of averages applied to victims that were mind-wiped. Mind wiping was never permanent; the mind eventually worked its way around the scars and reconnected with the memories. Sometimes it happened at three years, some at four, some at seven. Very few after that--but it averaged out to five years. Thus any victim that hadn't already received a refresh to the mindwipe was done again as a matter of precaution.)

Found Omi--fifteen now--working at a flower shop: Koneko no Sumu Ie. (Still going to school too, and living on his own. Industrious little boy.) But it made the nature of this coincidental meeting simple to arrange. All he needed was a reason to buy flowers--something that wouldn't garner sympathy. No deaths. No girlfriends (thought that somewhere in their conversations he might have mentioned something offhand about having had a boyfriend.) Congratulations on something--

Schuldig stepped into the flower shop with all the pretense of choosing it at random. Left his hair down but didn't wear the bandana--sunglasses perched on his head. Looked around the shop with interest, glancing at the different arrangements--looked as indecisive and clueless as he could without making a show of it. Had to step around a few girls whose primary function seemed to be to stare at the boys that worked here.

Gave up on the search that he'd been pretending to be engaged in and went over to find the closest employee--cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me--" Waited until the kid looked up at him--(he did grow up, didn't he?)--"Omi?" Enough genuine surprise that he didn't have to fake it in his voice. Knew, in theory at least, that Omi was fifteen. That meant puberty and he figured that the kid might have gotten taller or some such nonsense. Didn't figure he'd lose as much of the too-cute childishness of his face. Nice look though--eyes still bright and wide and blue. But the rest of it--kid had changed.

Felt Omi's mind working, shifting from mid-shift focus (flowers, displays, why are those girls staring at me?) with a nearly dumbfounded look on his face. Going back through his memories to figure out why this guy here knew his name--and he was familiar and--"...It's you!" Found him. The whole spectrum of memories there. From their last meeting and lunch at the ramen hut to their first meeting outside on the street when he'd asked Omi if he was alright.

Schuldig smiled. "Yes, me. I had a name once but now everyone just calls me: you!"

That look on his face, like he'd had ever since he was ten, something like annoyed affection. A very near roll of his eyes and a smile, then "...Your jokes are still horrible, Schuldig."

"Some things are so perfect they don't need to change--" Crack his grin, and then gave Omi a rather obvious look over, pausing along various points--shoulders, chest, waist--and just shook his head like he could not believe it. "You have--grown." Seconds long pause there. "You look good." (Better than anyone spawned of the same gene pool as that ugly moron ought to look, that is for sure. But then, his Mom had been pretty. Had more of her than his father or uncle.)

Omi dropped his eyes momentarily, thoughts stumbling over the fact that he was looking at him with so much intent--kind of like those girls whispering back and forth in the corner--*leering* at him. A bit of a blush rising on his cheeks. (Hm, because he doesn't want you looking or because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do if he *likes* it?)

"Damn, I'm sorry," Schuldig said. "I'm just--” Pause here, like he was looking for the right word to say, leaving time for Omi to look back at him and then: "Surprised. You have really changed Omi." Stood there like he was embarrassed himself, some attempt at self-reproach for his obvious leers. Brushed his hair out of his face, drawing the silence out a little bit longer, to make it just a bit more awkward.

Omi broke it, looked back at him but didn't know what to say now or do. Those memories of their meetings in the past twisting in his mind a bit now. "So... um... Why are you here?"

Schuldig chuckled. "Flowers, actually." Brushed his hair back away from his face again, felt it fall back into place and used his hands to tug it out of his face and pull it back, slipping the hair band off his wrist over the length of it. (Should have worn the bandana, no reason not to--) "One of my friend's sister’s just--did--something. I don't even remember. It’s a congratulations thing. I was told it’s nice to bring flowers."

"She just... did something? And you don't remember." Couldn't quite figure out if the look on Omi's face was because he didn't remember and he should have or meant to be a question as to why he would buy flowers if he didn't even remember why he was getting them.

"I know. Bad me. I'll get my sh--*act* back together when I'm not living out of hotel room anymore." (Interesting lie to have made up randomly. Why exactly are you living out of a hotel?) He followed Omi over to the display of flowers, keeping a distance more reminiscent of their long past of random meetings than the more recent leering. (More important than why you are living in a hotel room--why exactly would you claim to have one?) ---Keeping his options open.

Watched Omi pick the flower he wanted--something purple and pink with fringes around the edges. The name floating around in Omi's head ( Centaurea moschata.) Looked back at him, half over his shoulder. "Did you sneeze?" Bit of a grin there. Walked over to the work table. "Why are you living in a hotel?" he asked. His mind deciding almost instantaneously, which ribbon and paper and what decorative bits to put in the bouquet. Hands moving to make it so and the very edge of some thought in his head (would think I'm a real florist--)

"My apartment isn't ready. Was supposed to be almost a month ago but I keep getting excuses. I'm trying to get out of the deal but they keep throwing lease clauses in my face." Watched Omi working with a lazy sort of focus. Something to look at while he shifted around in his head, searching down the source of that thought.

And what he found--oh, what he found--Almost didn't catch the grin that broke across his face (knew Takatori was a fucking moron--figures the only kid of his that's gonna be good at what he does is the one he sold to the lowest bidder.) He'd known the kid has been put through some interesting classes by his dear old caretakers, but hadn't really bothered to dig deeper or wonder why. Considered that to be a mistake now, with this new discovery. Interesting little future this boy was building, interesting skill to have--and his choice in accessories. Shuriken. Wondered if he had them with him now. Might not be quite that paranoid yet. But more than that--the knowledge of how to kill and the experience--was there in his mind. Sly monster in his head.

Omi's surface thoughts growing louder, dragging his attention back--found that he was staring at the kid's hands working--and looked up at his face. Nothing there in his expression, but curiosity in his mind, trying to figure out why he was staring (and if had anything to do with the previous leering.) "That sucks. Are you living around here, then?"

Schuldig nodded. "Not too far. That hotel," and pointed to the west, "That way a bit. I walked here so it can't be that far--hey," he said, since the flowers were almost ready and his excuse to talk was running out. Playing the 'we always get something to eat' memory up. "Want to get something to eat when you're done here? Tell me how you found the time to become so good at that--you're still going to school right? I'll buy."

Omi finished the arrangement, with a few final adjustments while his mind ran down his schedule for that evening. (No mission, a little homework--should do it, since he had the time, but--) "Yeah, sure. We close at 6, I'll get my coworker to clean up." And he nodded toward the back of the store, at the boy being gawked at by his own little fan club of girls.

"Good. I'll be back at six then." Followed him back to the register and paid for the flowers.

~*~

(Hotel room?) It kept his options open, really. (Which options, exactly?) The options that dealt with the fact that little big-eyed overly-cute Takatori Mamoru had gone from pathetic crybaby with a daddy complex to this other thing. Tsukiyono Omi, who smiled like the world was made of sunshine and killed people in the dark. Who blushed when you looked at him too long and had grown up to have his own kind of appeal. (Assuming you like painfully short Japanese boys.) Maybe it was just because he killed things--or because he hid it so well. (So it’s just the lying that impresses you?)

Schuldig got the hotel room, brought stuff from his apartment and tossed it around to look random and lived in--earned a slightly curious raised eyebrow from Nagi when he went back to get things but otherwise no real reaction.

Got back to the Koneko no Sumu Ie just a few minutes after six, strolling up and smiling when he saw Omi there. (Added that gray shirt, didn't he?) Yes, same pants and same black T-shirt though--(Aren't you staring again?) Didn't matter, Omi was staring back, watching the way he was moving. Concentrated little look on his face that--(Made this idea of a hotel room more appealing?)

"Ready?" Schuldig said.

Omi nodded, smiled a little bit and stepped away from the closed shutter and stepped up next to him, ready to follow him wherever they were going to eat.

Used the walk to get the basics out of the way. School (yes still school. That was going fine.) Job (Momoe tutored him. It was a really nice job--some more insincere sincerity on the subject.) Finished on that second topic (Schuldig asked various and random things about flowers that he didn't really care about, which Omi was starting to notice) about the time they stepped inside the ramen hut. Instant shock of noise there, people talking and dishes and chopsticks and--noise. Their minds swelling up in his, breaking his concentration for a moment until he pushed them down and out.

Looked around and then back at Omi. "It’s busy," he said unnecessarily and pushed his hands into his pants pockets, leaning closer to be heard.

Omi turned to look at him--little frown on his face for all the people and noise and--"Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"At dinner time--everywhere close by and in my price range is going to be busy. We can wait it out--unless you want to go somewhere else."

Raised eyebrows, Omi looking at him, "I asked you first."

Schuldig mocked a pout, completely for show and then looked back over at the crowd. "Then we stay--or maybe we should just get something to go and eat somewhere else."

Omi shrugged, not much of a yes to that short lift and drop of shoulders, but it was something like an affirmative. "Okay, where?"

(That hotel room that you created, perhaps?) "Your place?" he said. Paused a moment to feel out Omi's mind--smiled when it all boiled down to a 'no' and then ventured a: "My place?"

The most sweet and benign smile--the world was made of sunshine, really, and it shone the brightest in that smile (yeah, right)--and a bit of a tease: "Schuldig-san are you trying to get me alone?" But Omi's mind knew the answer, and gave a brief catalog of all the weapons he was carrying and the absolute belief that should things go strange, Omi could definitely get out.

"Oh no, you have seen through my wickedly immoral plan." A huff of disappointment, and one of his silly-stupid smiles that never felt quite right on his face really. (Made his smirk cringe in pain.)

"Pervert. Go order some food." But playful, those words. (And playfulness was its own reward, right?)

Schuldig laughed at the words and obediently went to order them food to go. Searched through Omi's thoughts to find whatever he liked second best (because picking someone's favorite out of the blue always seemed either predestined or not-quite-right to the person you were picking for. Schuldig was fairly certain Omi wasn't the predestined sort.) Paid the kid that took the order and told him it would be ready in a minute and walked back over to Omi. "Be ready soon," he said.

Watching him again, Omi. Frown on his face and his mind running over the way he walked. A bit of a head tilt about the time he got over to him and said: "Your walk is different. Even for a gaijin. I've watched gaijin before, and everyone else, and I only know one other person who walks like that."

Schuldig raised an eyebrow to that comment, resisted the urge to pick this other person's identity out of Omi's head and said with a bit of grin: "And how do I walk?"

Omi just smiled back at him. Smart and sly. "I wasn't sure until just now--the only difference is, you're not carrying anything. So there must be something else. Right?"

Schuldig slipped his hands back down into his pants pockets, licked his lips as he rolled over this new statement. Worked out whether or not he wanted to dig through Omi's mind to confirm what they were talking about, and said: "I guess, though I might have a better opinion if you could be more specific."

Omi's eyes sliding around the room, picking at each of the people, assessing their interest in this conversation--and if they would really care even if they were listening. "You're like me. Let's leave it at that for now." Smiled then and pointed toward the counter. "I think our food is ready."

"Yes it is," Schuldig said. Gave him one last look, half questioning, like he wanted to know what that meant but didn't. Smirked when he turned his back. Really? Picked up the food, said the polite little thank you's and carried it back over to him. "Let’s go." Made it half a question, maybe, but was walking toward the door anyway. And Omi followed him, some self-pleased look on his face. Followed him the first few steps and then the look changed, the mind changed back too.

Guarded. Thinking again.

Walked for a bit in silence, food getting a bit colder, until they came to the hotel. Schuldig pulled the door open and held it. "Here we are."

And Omi stood there, some objection in his mind, some thought or another about how this didn't feel quite right. Something was happening here--didn't know what, but something. Stepping through that door, his whole stance changed--not where anyone that didn't know how to look for it would notice. Ready to bolt or fight or whatever it took to get away if something bad happened here. His mind reviewing the locations of his shuriken as he stood in the lobby and waited for Schuldig to step up beside him.

"Elevators over here," he said and walked toward it. Omi following, his gait measured by the pulse of his mind cataloging the exits. Even looked for cameras in the elevator.

"You're making me nervous," Schuldig said with some attempt at amusement, looking over at Omi. "If you don't want to go up to my room we can go somewhere else."

"Food's getting cold." Faking the nervousness now, forcing himself to appear to relax. "I'm not entirely sure what to expect from you anymore."

Drew his eyebrows down like he didn't know what to make of that, something that was almost offended by that. Let it slide though and went for teasing. "My intentions are to eat and talk. If they change I'll be sure to let you know."

Omi smiled and thanked him and went with it for the moment, still trying to figure it out. Why this felt not quite right and what the intention here was.

"You're welcome," Schuldig said back with another silly-stupid grin and the elevator door opened. He stepped out, motioned down the hall toward his door and handed Omi the food while he pulled out the key-card to open the door. "And here it is. Just ignore the dirty clothes." Held the door open and looked back at Omi.

And Omi walked in, pausing to toe off his shoes, took in the room, (memorizing the layout and the possible escape routes, wonder if you should be offended) found the table and went over to it. Set the food down and sat down, looking back over him. Waiting for him to come sit down too. "It's not that bad."

Well, isn't that nice of you to lie about. Schuldig shrugged. "If you say so." Then sat down opposite Omi, and pulled the bag open. "I got you pot stickers. Hope you like them because if not I'm still not giving up my ramen."

Omi leaned forward and took the box. "Lucky for you I like pot stickers." Then he dug the chopsticks out of the bag, cracked them into two sticks and started to eat. Watching him again. (Can't figure out if you like that, hm?) Trying to figure out how much of this playful goofy thing was an act and how to make him drop it--trying to figure out what it was that made Schuldig like him. (Quite a bit, really.)

"Alright," Schuldig said, between bites, like he'd been holding the question in. "What makes me like you?"

Omi finished chewing--didn't want to be rude, wanted the silence to stretch a bit for the sake of the effect it had. "You're a dangerous man."

(Hm, that obvious. Wanted him to see it or did he notice that all on his own?) Stupid fucking Takatori--or maybe it was getting away from that megalomaniac that made this boy here what he was. Schuldig brought his eyebrows down, letting a bit of that stupid smile slip but not so much that it was threatening--thoughtful. (What kind of lie is this going to bring about?) "You think this because of the way I walk?"

"The way you walk--" Omi tilted his head to the side a bit, watching him again. "And the way you lie." Another bite, and another silence to chew it in. "A few years ago we were at that teriyaki place in Ginza, remember? The busboy dropped a glass and you caught it---reached out and snatched it out of the air like it was the most natural thing in the world. I started thinking, then, that you might not be a normal person."

Schuldig shrugged, not committed to a yes or a no in reference to that. (Impressed by how fast he's got a case for this belief in his mind, maybe?) "Normal is a relative term, I think. And I think any ability I have to lie has been called into question just now." Eyebrows tightening down, looking at him with a bit more interest. "Not carrying anything, huh?" As if this made perfect sense now--more like he was allowing it to make sense now. "Does this mean that you are?"

"I don't need to tell you that," and that sweet smile made of pure sunshine.

Schuldig sighed, put the food back on the table and leaned back in the chair, leaning to one side so he could put his elbow over the chair. Gave Omi a stray glance and then said: "This does call into question the wisdom of acting on my ulterior motives."

Something real in that look on his face this time. Trying to figure out what he was hinting at, playing it like he did. "I would imagine so."

Schuldig looked back at him, leaning forward--slowly--giving the kid plenty of time to move or tell him to stop. "You're bluffing," he said. And reached out his fingers, and rubbed his fingertip against the warm earring. "You have no idea what my motives are."

Omi tensed the second he started to lean forward, mind spiraling around what he was doing, trying to figure it out, and coming up with a list of things--none of them pretty or even close. Realized too late he'd let his cover slip and his whole face shifted back to that defense.

"Hm," Schuldig said and leaned back, letting his fingers brush against Omi's jaw as he did. Arm hooking over the back of the chair again. "Or if you do, you have no idea how to respond to them. Interesting conundrum this presents."

Right there, so slight a person could have missed it, but he didn't--Omi's little catch of breath. Couldn't quite get his head wrapped around this new thing. "You're--being intentionally vague."

He let a slow and lazy smile cross his face, nothing mocking in it. Appraising him, maybe. "Not really, you're the exceptionally observant type." And he said it in acknowledgement of the skill, "I think I've shown my ulterior motives quite openly. Thus enter the conundrum. You are definitely old enough to have some frame of reference. This means either you are playing an angle and pretending not to know or you really have no experience dealing with this particular motive that I have."

(This is the option you chose to keep open?)

Omi picked at his food again, something to do while he was thinking, maybe. (---What does age have to do with it? Looking at me like that again, like the girls in the flower shop---the girls in the flower shop---alone in a hotel room---that touch---old enough now and that look) ---And he dropped the chopsticks, mind seizing on the obvious, on that thing Omi had no experience dealing with and looked at him. "Wh---" And then nothing.

Schuldig smiled. "It’s not quite that far-fetched of an idea really." But then set aside the ramen he'd been chewing on while he watched Omi work through it and licked his fingers to get the taste off.

Omi blinked, face almost entirely blank--a bit offended maybe, reeling a bit. Mind on that idea and Schuldig and how exactly Schuldig planned to implement this plan and what he was supposed to do and if Schuldig had the intention of-- "That's not--you've got the wrong idea." And an almost unnoticeable nod to those words, as if they, alone, would clear the matter up.

"Hm," Schuldig said. "Do I?"

"Yes." Breathed out with urgency and full of that nervous set of his shoulders. Face lost all that careful schooling of disinterest and control. Omi picked up the chopsticks he'd dropped, held them in his hand and looked at the food and then back at him and then set the chopsticks down, pushed the container of pot stickers away and stood up. "I think I should go now. Thank you for dinner."

(Your option seems to be walking out.) No. Running away maybe, but there was that other thing in the back of his head that was shouting with all its might--maybe this idea wasn't so repulsive after all. The touch had been nice--liked the touch. Didn't get touched very much at all, Omi didn't. Not like that.

Schuldig got to his feet, faster than Omi, and was up next to him, fingers curling around his wrist--loosely. No fight, no intent to hurt or stop or anything but touch, and dragged his fingers up his arm when Omi went still. "Give me a little credit, Omi. I wouldn't push myself on you--" And dropped his hand back down, from Omi's elbow to his wrist again. (Dangerous that, if he thinks you're messing with him.) Hm, maybe, but as close as he was--close enough that the tips of his hair were against his back and on his shoulder and his hand and the proximity. The tone of his voice.

This idea pulsing in the air between them.

"You can leave if you want to go, but don't leave just because I find you attractive." Close to his ear now, close enough he should have felt the breath against his skin. Stepped forward a bit, so Schuldig could see his eyes. "Do you want to go?"

(Yes--no--touching, like that, feels good--no. I want to--wait. No.) Spiral of thoughts all spinning around the ghost of Schuldig's fingers on his wrist. And that adorable voice in his head was wheedling and whispering, wondering what it would feel like if Schuldig was just a bit closer and touching a bit more.

"I..."

(Keeping those options open are we? Gonna go for the kill, touch him more, keep him there?)

Schuldig licked his lips, slipped his fingers under Omi's chin and tilted his face up so he was looking at him. Wasn't playing fair here. Not even a little bit. Bent down and kissed him--Omi trembling there, tried to hide it but couldn't. Chaste little thing, fleeting, and then pulled back. "I want you to stay." Brushed his fingers against Omi's neck and stepped back just enough to give Omi back his personal space. "But more than that--I want you to want to stay."

Omi's mind, caught up in that kiss and the feel of it and (--what if he pressed a little harder or pulled you against him or oooh, what if he used his tongue---) Blush rising to his cheeks, eyes still looking at him. "I want to--" But there was no end to it, couldn't decide.

(And now, how to take advantage of this open option?)

One last touch, Schuldig's hand slipping up his arm, to his elbow again, lingering there and then Schuldig broke the eye contact, crossed the room to the bed and sat on it, hands curled around the edge of the bed. (Subtle.)

Chaos in Omi's mind: Ok, time to go. Turn around and just walk out the door, right now, forget this ever happened (and regret it. Is it really such a big deal? I bet it'd feel good---look at him, bet he knows what he's doing, bet it'd feel really good. That touch felt good, right? Just a little touch but never like that before, never been kissed before, didn't know it'd feel that soft---nice, like to feel it again? Maybe a little harder, little closer, maybe if he pushes you onto the bed and kisses you there, all that warm weight pressing you down---maybe with his hands under your clothes, definitely never been touched like that before...) No, and don't need to be. Need to leave, now. (You sure you can walk away? Sure you don't want to find out?) ....but (you totally sure?) ....maybe.

Omi looked over at him, stood still for a minute, with that voice cajoling in his head until he moved, all but literally dragging his feet. But he came over, and stood there in front of him. Breath forced to near silent and his heartbeat racing.

Schuldig reached out and curled his fingers around Omi's hand, pulled it toward him, to close the last few steps between them, Omi standing between his spread knees, looking down at him. Just like that for a near eternity, and then he stood up, felt Omi move back, but held his hand and slipped his hand around his neck, used his thumb against Omi's jaw to guide the tip of his head. Bent down and kissed him.

Slow. Soft still, lips first and stroked his thumb against Omi's jaw.

(Remember that you decided not to do virgins anymore, didn't you?)

Waited for Omi to relax again and kiss back, hand awkward in the air next to his arm. Schuldig reached for it and pulled it closer, pressed it against his chest and bent a little farther to deepen the kiss. Short, just a bit of tongue to satisfy that thought in Omi's head. Just a bit because no matter how curious, it always felt a little strange at first.

Slid his hand back around Omi's neck, thumb back against his jaw and broke the kiss. Breathed out in the space between them, his breath and Omi's breath brushing together. Hot, and looked at him--hard to see clearly this close, saw the blue of his eyes and felt the heavy race of his heartbeat under his palm.

"More?"

A nod there, an indrawn breath and the quickest swipe of Omi's tongue across his lips. Eyes looking back at him, and that hand on his chest curling tighter in his T-shirt. Schuldig kissed him again, that hand on his wrist moving, sliding up, under his shoulder and against his back, not pulling him but holding him. Deepened the kiss and heard the murmur at that, felt the shudder run down Omi's spine. Hand in a fist around his shirt now, a bit of his hair caught too and pulling.

Didn't mind it, not this close, body heat and the warmth of Omi's mouth. Shy and hesitant tongue pressing back against his. Schuldig let his hand drag down his back, pulling at the fabric of his shirt just slightly, those fingers around his neck pulling him a little closer. Not too much, still slow and soft and still plenty of escaping room if Omi thought he needed it.

Felt that other hand of his come up and press against his chest, not a fist, just there--warm palm.

Schuldig broke the kiss again, felt the ragged drag of Omi's breath. "Come on," he said. Quietly, and sat back down, tugging Omi after him, felt him hesitate and reached up for his neck again. Felt him move with that, and kissed him again, just the same, felt the reaction changing, still unsure, still so new to it, but--Omi learned everything fast. Schuldig moved back, wriggling further onto the bed, guiding Omi after him, felt his knee on the bed first, and then his hand as Schuldig leaned back, the other knee and the kiss broke.

Smiled at Omi and pulled himself further onto the bed. Watched Omi shift and fidget and finally crawl on the bed, laying near him, not sure about this--wanting to know about it--and Schuldig ran his hand down his chest. "Easier this way--more even kisses." Bent his head down and kissed him again, weight against his side but not pinning him down (not yet) hand stroking up and down Omi's chest, pulling his shirt up with the movements.

(Ah, yes. This being why you don't like virgins; they take too long to prep and finish too fast to enjoy.)

His fingertips bumping over the edge of the shirts on the next stroke, and against Omi's skin. Warm there, indrawn breath dragging his belly down and Schuldig's hand followed it, pressed his palm full against it. Moved it up, over the smoothness of Omi's skin, shirts bunching up against his wrist. Not too high, though, to the bottom of his ribs, and back down again until his wrist was hitting the waistband of his pants. And then around, slipping down his side, gripping there to pull him closer.

Put more urgency into the kiss, quickened the pulse of it until he felt Omi stall and held it there. Shifted so he was pressed against Omi, leg moving so his knee was across Omi's thigh, high up. Broke the kiss again, needing to breathe, and let Omi catch his breath too, watched his face and felt his mind assimilating it all, storing it away, justifying its own assumptions regarding Schuldig's prowess and the way it thought it would feel to be touched this way.

When he kissed him again, he moved, leg sliding between Omi's, hand sliding off his skin to press against the bed and the other taking its place on his other side, on skin, dragging up to his ribs and back down again. Heard the noise in Omi's throat--surprise maybe or want or something that the boy probably couldn't even name himself. Drank it down.

Settled all his weight on his knees--bit awkward that--and pulled Omi's shirt up, felt his mind giving a bit of a spark at this and then being muted away, Omi broke the kiss this time, lifting his arms and arching when necessary to be stripped of the shirts. Breathing heavy, slight flutter to his muscles when Schuldig's hand pressed against his bare skin--starting at his shoulder again. Like petting a cat, smooth and firm strokes, down over his skin.

Bent and kissed him--briefly--and then moved his mouth down. On his neck and his shoulder, down to his collarbone, felt the twist of his mind as he worked this out, but pressed close like that, with Schuldig's hands dipping down lower, over his waist and down the outside of his thigh--

(He's not going to last long and here you are wasting your time.)

Felt hands on his back, and his hair, grasping. Unsure of what they ought to be doing, but working on instinct, wanting to touch or hold--felt that fist tighten in his shirt again and tug. Schuldig looked back up at him, flashed a bit of a smile and pulled his own shirt off to toss behind him. Would have moved back down, but those hands were on his skin, shy exploration.

Down, across his chest and his ribs and then back up, Omi licking his lips and flicking his eyes up from the skin he was staring at to Schuldig's face. Kissed him again, pressing more of his weight against him, just barely pushing him down into the mattress, that leg between Omi's pressing and rubbing with the movement--and oh, that shudder. Fingers curling around his shoulders and digging in, catching hair and pulling and the kiss broke. Eyes wide and something like blush there.

(Definitely not going to last very long--this won't even be fun.)

Schuldig move down again, hand first, and then his mouth, short kisses and licks and nips down Omi's skin, tongue across the length an old scar on his chest, felt those hands slipping off his shoulders and catching in his hair. Pulled at Omi's pants with one hand, pausing over his belly. Following the rise and fall of that skin, until the button on the pants popped loose, slipped the zipper down and pulled back a bit--as far as those hands in his hair would let him. Rearranged the way they were laying, moving between Omi's legs and tugged his pants down and off--another garbled noise there, wide eyes and a deep blush.

Laid his hand against Omi's belly, steadying, and the other against his hip, holding him still. Looked back up at him, felt his mind, and the racing in there, trying to get a complete thought but it was all revolving around this position he found himself in and the way that Schuldig was licking his lips, that grin that was crossing his face and--

Tight fists--hurt really--in his hair as soon as he dipped his head down. Took Omi in, heard that noise, felt the whiplash of a shudder running all through his body, precious control warring with this other thing and as Schuldig pressed his tongue against him and the full strength of that sensation--of the act itself, of the weight laying against Omi and all of this--

Precious control lost and Omi gasped out something that might have been a word, back arching, muscles taut, (fingers pulling his hair harder,) and the taste in Schuldig's mouth.

Pulled back, looked for whatever was closest--found an old shirt (that was actually Farf's once upon a time)--and spit into it, wiped his mouth and crawled back up to lay next to Omi. Letting his fingers wander on his still shivering skin while he caught his breath.

Felt the boy looking over at him, and looked away from the skin he was petting to catch his eyes, but Omi avoided them. "...Sorry," he mumbled.

Schuldig rolled his eyes, dismissed it with a scoff. "You're fifteen." Used his hand to turn Omi's face back toward him, leaning in close so he would look at him. "The benefit of that age is the amazingly short refractory period." Watched Omi's eyes widen in time with his mind's realization that there would be more (the nature of that more, however, was lost somewhere in the fuzz of the afterglow of Omi's mind) and the boy nodded a little to the words and the more. Schuldig grinned and kissed him briefly, and then pushed himself up and half crawled over him.

Laying with his belly across Omi's ribs and pulled open the side table drawer, grabbing the lube and condoms and then shutting it. Wiggled his way backward and laid next to Omi again, dropping his retrieved necessities on the bed in that bare space between them--felt Omi's eyes look at them. The dip of his eyebrows as he worked past the dying fuzz of the afterglow and tried to figure out what they were for.

(Smart kid, won't take him long.)

Some half-remembered thought of something he'd heard or read about when two men--the one guy puts-- Paused on that. Figured that was what the lube was for and--OH. The instant little rise of his eyebrows and that creeping bit of blush. That question in his mind, if he'd found the right use and if that meant--right there in his mind, but he didn't open his mouth to put voice to it.

Schuldig propped himself up on his elbow, resting his face against his hand. "Do you know what this sort of sex is?"

Oh, that blush, deepening across his cheeks and his forehead. The words he managed to say were quiet and almost mumbled. "Well... yeah. Basically."

Schuldig gave that answer a questioning raise of his eyebrows but didn't contradict it. Rolled onto his back and tugged at the button to his own pants. Caught Omi looking, something strange between anxiety and curiosity on his face there. "These are getting uncomfortable," he said by way of explanation. And leaned his weight back on his shoulders to raise his hips and push the pants down, then sat up and tugged them off his legs, dropping them off the side of the bed. Turned back to look at Omi and shifted closer again.

Watched Omi looking at him, eyes flicking up and down and then settling and staring.

"If you're done with that," Schuldig said with a grin. Loved the fresh blossom of blush on Omi's face, ran his hand over it to feel the warmth of it.

(Strange how nice you're being--seems odd.) Ah, but nice was in the way you looked at it.

Kissed Omi again, hand on his neck and shoulder, feeling the rising tenseness of his muscles, and rubbed at them lazily. Concentrated on the kissing, relatively benign as it was, and Omi concentrated on it with him.

Used his other hand to find the lube between them again, held it in his fist as he moved, slipping one knee between Omi's again, shifting his weight and bringing his other leg over too, leaning down against him, a bit of a press, but plenty of room to put that tube to use. Used his free hand to guide Omi's leg up, pressing it against his side, felt it hang there for a minute and then press closer. The kiss getting a bit more urgent with the passing seconds, Omi's hands traveling from his hair to his back--mind spinning with this new depth of sensation. Being pushed down into the bed, being touched this closely, everywhere that they were touching, and the feel of their tongues, the taste of Schuldig's mouth.

(Hm, that, of course, the benefit. Everything is so new to them.)

Schuldig pulled back to breath again, heard the pant of Omi's breath and felt him shifting under him, almost wiggling. Closed his eyes and choked back a moan--all that skin and muscle and the slick slide of Omi under him.

(Ah, now the patience starts to break?)

Caught him in a kiss again, more urgency--more control than the previous ones. A bit of a stall there, but Omi followed his lead, kissed back, hands gripping at his skin a bit tighter, leg hooking around his back now as he shifted his hips back against him. Another murmured groan for that, and Schuldig used his thumb to flip the top of the lube open, and squeezed it out on his fingers and dropped it back in its place next to them. Pulled Omi's leg up a bit higher, another shiver for that and the change of the rubbing it caused, broke the kiss in time with his fingers pressing against him--a pant of breath and he pushed his finger in.

Something between a whine and cry, stuttered, Omi's face twisting down into that look of--look of something that couldn't be described, the look of the difference between being touched and being invaded. Of the shock of having something *inside* and (cold. Uncomfortable, maybe--awkward.)

(Gonna be nice and say something sweet now?)

"Breathe," Schuldig whispered, against his ear, turning his face in and licking the sweat on Omi's neck, finger sinking in deeper, body pressed against the taut and hard muscles of Omi's body under him. Felt him take in a breath, fingers digging into the skin of Schuldig's shoulders, breaking the skin as they curled tighter. He hissed against the curve of Omi's neck, figured really it was fair (remembered pulling out a fair amount of hair his first time) and continued to lick and suck at his skin.

Pulled his finger out a bit and pressed in deeper, fighting through the tenseness of the muscle until his fingertip brushed against what he was looking for--

Sharp and almost strangled exhale of a moan, those hands digging into his shoulders again, Omi's mind seizing onto that sensation, craving it. Schuldig gave him another short rub, smirking into the skin of his neck, biting back another moan at the push back against his hand and the whole body shiver that ran through the boy.

(Hm. Responsive boy, isn't he?)

Pulled his finger back--felt the protest in Omi's mind that didn't quite make it to his lips and pressed two fingers back in before he had time to tense again-- But all his muscles tightened back down again, another objecting noise rising from his chest.

Schuldig leaned up and kissed him again, felt his distraction, the tilt of his hips and the thought in his mind about returning to that other feeling and getting rid of this unpleasant stretch--tight now, cold again with that new finger. Schuldig pressed in and rubbed against that place again, firm enough that it made Omi shiver but not nearly as strongly as he could have. Wanted him to want more of it. Teased him with it, until he was wriggling back against it and whining into the kiss.

"More?" Schuldig asked, breaking that kiss again. Voice tight with the want, panting with it.

(You are being nice.)

Little nod of Omi's head, one of his own hands reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes. "...yeah."

Another brief kiss, and Schuldig pulled back, found the condom working its way under the rumpled sheets and raised it to his mouth to rip it open. Tossed the wrapper on the floor and rolled it on with a grimace--picked up the lube again and leaned back down over Omi. His eyes closed, teeth against his lip, mind trying to cool down maybe, trying to get back to some place where it had control--

(No, lets not have that happen.)

Pulled Omi's legs up again, watched his eyes open, watching him and the sway of his hair--soaked through with sweat now.

"Keep them up here if you can," he mumbled. Popped the top of the lube again and squeezed it out on his hand, coated himself with it as he shifted into the right position, and stared down into Omi's eyes--drew in a breath and pushed forward.

Omi's hands on the bed, sheets fisted up and twisting in his hands as he gasped out a cry of pain, eyes closing against it, shuddering from it.

"Breathe," Schuldig said--breathless. Grit his teeth against the feel of Omi around him, and stayed still, waited for the shivering to stop, and then pressed in deeper. Felt his eyes closing, head tipping in toward his own shoulder, listened to Omi's rapid panting, pain in the undertone of his breath. Ran his hand down Omi's skin, over the rise and fall of his chest, down to his shivering belly and then back up, over his ribs and shoulder, curling around his neck. Rubbed his thumb against his jaw. "Breathe," he said again, almost like a plea.

Felt Omi relaxing--slowly--and opened his eyes to look down at him. Kissed him again, shifting his weight on his knees and dropping the hand from Omi's neck to the bed. Urgency in his mouth on Omi's, dragging his attention back up here, until he was kissing back and the tautness of his muscles loosened to something more bearable.

Then he moved, slowly, more rubbing in against him than movement, finding the angle--and knew when he found it by Omi's sharp inhale. Hands on him again, in his hair now, clutching at it. Still kissing, getting hard to breathe--moving more, slow at first. Sliding back into Omi with a half-swallowed murmur and felt his legs tightening around him, hips pushing back against the sensation as the pain died.

Moaned and broke the kiss, baring his teeth and curling his hand around Omi's hip, digging his fingers into the skin hard, pressing in faster. Wanted more, waited for this for too long and he wanted more--and--

The wriggling, Omi's little movements, back against him and the endlessness of his little moves, his breathing, the smell of him and the taste of his mouth and his sweat in Schuldig's mouth. Dropped his weight down on one elbow, hand slipping under Omi's back, fingers around his shoulder, chest all but pressing together now, slick and sliding with their sweat.

Thrusting harder now, hard and noisy exhales in time with his movements, panted right there next to Omi's ear. Felt him wriggling and shivering under him, legs around him to get the leverage to push back--

(Damn responsive.)

Felt it spiraling out of his control, somewhere between the scatter of his own thoughts and the feeling of Omi around him--the pulse of his body or the writhing or the hands in his hair and on his back. The sound of that voice--

Movements faster--harder now, pressed tighter to Omi, rubbing everywhere. Everything getting hotter and his voice loosing sound, only the harsh pants--Omi's harsh pants, and then the arch of his back, and his head tipping back again, all the length of his throat exposed as his mouth came open in a strangled sound--

Schuldig pressed his mouth against Omi's neck, down at the base, teeth pressed to skin and tongue--sucked on it with the last thrusts, pressing in and grinding against the tightening of Omi's muscles.

Lost it there, teeth digging into that soft skin, hips tight against Omi's and shivering. Floated in the high of the moment, clinging to it and the whiteness behind his closed eyes.

Schuldig summoned up enough coherency to free himself from Omi's legs, dispose of the condom by tossing it in the general direction of a trash can and collapse on the bed next to him, on his belly, face turned toward Omi, watching him catch his breath--eyes still closed--and listening to his mind working through fading afterglow.

(Such a nice boy.) No--not really. None of this had been nice. There was nothing nice (barring the actual physical act of it) to fucking someone you had already fucked over. Took this boy's memories, took his trust, and then took his body. Nothing nice in that, smiling at his face all the while having stabbed him through the back, and when the memories came back (and they would, Schuldig would let them, watch what little Omi Tsukiyono did when he found out what his ignorant papa had done) Omi would figure it out.

This hadn't been nice. Felt nice, sounded nice, tasted nice--but it wasn't nice. Lies were never nice, even when they felt good.

Omi blinked, mind almost back in place, turned his head and looked at him, contented look on his face, satisfaction for having been right about it feeling good--and said in some attempt to be playful (but he wasn't, and they both knew it.) "You know...someday I might have to kill you." Smile there, almost like premature regret.

No, if it came to that, this kid wouldn't regret it.

"Don't take it personally," Omi murmured, rolling toward him, curling up against his chest, fingers idly brushing against his hair again. Snuggled down into the pillow--(cute how he trusts you)--and was sleeping.

Schuldig stayed there, sweat cooling on his skin until he was cold, and rubbed Omi's back until his light sleep deepened--perhaps helped a bit by the soothing blanket Schuldig laid over his mind--and then he pulled himself free. Pressed one last kiss to the kid's mouth.

"Kill your stupid fucking Daddy, not me," he murmured to him.

Stood up, stretched, rubbed his neck a bit and found his pants on the floor. Stepped into them, felt the fabric dragging against his sticky skin and hated the feeling of it. Buttoned his pants anyway--couldn't take a shower and risk the kid waking up and having to do a whole scene--went into the bathroom to find a towel--wet it enough to wipe his stomach clean and rinsed his face. Pulled his hair tie out of his pants pockets and yanked his messy hair back up into it.

(Still got that 'recently had a good fuck' look about you.)

Nothing that could be done about that--not without a hairbrush and some conditioner and new clothes. Left the bathroom, grabbed a T-shirt out of the bag of them he'd left open as a prop and pulled it on over his head. Looked back at Omi one more time, still curled up on the bed--and pulled his shoes back on, opened the door and was gone
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Conundrum