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Setting 2	By : CardDragonBall Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1311 -:- 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-Setting 2
- 1
Title: Setting 2

Author: Card with Laila providing all the Ken-isms

Fandom: Weiss Kreuz

Characters: Schuldig/Ken

Rating: Nc-17

Warnings: "Just pretend that its canon and no one will ask
questions..." (also SMUT! Boy on boy smut! Going at it like two donkeys drugged up on Levitra--for a longer more lasting experience, yo)

Where o'where in the Weiss Timeline is this set? Prior to episode 10. Where Ken doesn't know who Schuldig is and Schuldig doesn't know who Ken is.

~~~~~~~~~~***

Perfectly normal. Disturbingly normal. Easily lost in a crowd of other brown haired, brown eyed boys. Typical mostly short Japanese boy. (So typical you have now stopped to look him over.) Yes, well, something not so completely plain and average about him.

Cute. (Been a long time since you've done cute, really.) Moved pretty well too, seemed to have perfect balance and the inability to get a shopping basket. There was a pile of things in his arms; looked like enough to feed more than just himself, but then again, he wasn't exactly a skinny boy either.

(And now you are considering it.) Yes, well, admittedly, picking up random average strangers in a grocery store (when he was supposed to be picking up food, or something droll and very 'isn't that Nagi's job?' like that) wasn't the most ideal situation to find a willing sexual partner. Nothing terribly seductive about noodles and fruit milk. The lighting was usually all wrong too. (Not that you doubt for one second that you can get him to follow you out of this store and down the street that hotel so you can fuck his perfectly average ass until he's writhing and shouting your name.) That part shouldn't be that difficult--though, second glance at his ass proved that it was not so terribly average. Perhaps the boy worked out.

Worst that could happen was the boy turned out to be a bad lay. (Oh, the horror of that.) Schuldig smirked. (And won't Crawford have something to say about this?) Probably would, and the day that Schuldig would really care about the American’s opinion would be the same day he'd have to quit Schwarz and go home crying to his momma.

In the meantime, though, he grabbed a shopping basket and stepped up next to the boy (Ken, his name apparently, going across his mind in nice bright letters) smiled at him and held out the basket. "This might be helpful," he said. Nodding at the pile of groceries that had reached a precarious state of balance.

Ken looked at him an almost offended look of confusion. (Florist, huh? Something about soccer--and that thought led to something about--ah. Yes. That would work.) "Uh--thanks." Looking at him, taking into quick account the very obviousness of his lack of being Japanese. The accent and the hair first. Skin far too pale. "...not necessary." Might have been more to that sentence, but between the thoughts and his mumbling, Schuldig didn't catch the first half.

"Girlfriend?" he said, nodding at the rather impressive stack of groceries he was now plucking out of Ken's arms to drop into the basket for him. "Or boyfriend?"

"What?" Almost shouted, bit of a blush spreading across his face, and his mind was reacting with a stuttering string of objections but what made it out of his mouth was: "No!" And he moved to take the basket from him, but Schuldig kept his hand on the handle instead of letting it go.

"You're cuter when you blush," he said with a smile. "Sorry if I seem like I'm prying--just trying to figure out my chances here." Dropped his eyes to give the kid another look over, just briefly but long enough that an observant soul should have noticed. Looked back up at him and that blush across his face.

"Wait..." Almost a pause there, must have noticed the eyes dropping and looking. "Your chances? What are you talking about?" (Why am I even having this insane conversation?) Still with a bit of a tug on the basket, as if getting it away would bring the end to this.

Schuldig breathed out a bit of a laugh. "What am I talking about?" Looked at him for a second, as if he were contemplating what to say. Maybe he was, trying to figure out how to say the next bit, and work this nice little offended thing to his advantage. "I want to know my chances of getting you to leave this basket of food and following me to the nearest hotel for a nice afternoon fuck."

(No, couldn't have heard that right--) Ken looking at him, eyes narrowing down, and that blush a bit deeper with the instantaneous realization that he had heard right. Heard it exactly as it was said, and following that moment, he glanced around, at the people contentedly shopping, wondering if they heard and if they heard how much they heard and if they heard it all how much they--(no, nobody heard) and seemed to be content with that assumption. Tugged on the basket again. "Does being offered a shopping basket really turn people on where you come from?"

A second passed between him realizing what he said and Schuldig's grin, a bit of a chuckle for that comment. Ken realized what he said. (Can't believe I just--should I kill myself here or wait until I get back home?)

"Actually," Schuldig said, with all the false smoothness of sarcasm, "Yes. Its customary for young gay men to exchange baskets as a means of flirting. So much cheaper than flowers, you know." Then let that drop from his voice and said: "So?"

"So?" And his mind seemed to have stalled there for a minute. Somewhere about that word 'gay.' (Thinking of his soccer days and his not-quite-a-boyfriend and their not-quite-sex. Which, despite the lovely veil of denial it had been painted with--had in fact, been full out sex.) And then going forward again, covering that up. Embarrassed a little bit, blush still on his face and anger. Some half thought objection as to being asked to leave the story for public lewdness. "I am not a gay man!"

Schuldig cocked an eyebrow at that, and looked at him with great doubt. "If that were the truth you would have said that, somewhere about the time when I asked if you had a boyfriend and if not then when I propositioned you with gay sex. Strange that you wait until now to object." He let go of the basket. "But if you want to live in your little bubble--” A fake sigh. "I guess there's nothing that I can do about your naivety."

"Who are you calling naive?" More of that same tone, but look at how he was standing there now that he and his basket of groceries were free. Staying to argue it.

"That would be you. Here I am quite honestly asking you if you would like to take part in some recreational sex and you seem to be stuck on the fact that I came on to you in a grocery store. Which is not my fault; you were the one walking around with a cute ass."

"Yeah, but... what was wrong with just picking up someone at a bar or someplace normal like that? And quit saying that, people are staring." Another quick glance around to make sure that all the people that weren't really listening to them at all weren't looking.

"Nothing really. Except I saw you here and--” Stopped there. Ken still looking around, trying to look like he wasn't being proposition with anonymous mid-afternoon gay sex. Drew in a breath--as if asking for great patience. "I can see this is a big deal for you." Reached down, took the basket away from him (and in Ken's moment of great distraction that was no challenge) curled his fingers around the boy's wrist and pulled him. Through the aisle, past the registers and out the front doors. "Now we are no longer in the store and I can say sex as much as I want."

Ken tugged at his hand, but didn't get it free and then looked at him (with none of that offended school boy look) and said shortly: "That's not the point and you know it. Let me go."

Schuldig considered it. Considered that this was taking far more time than he wanted it to, and then considered if it would be worth it to put in further effort. (Sure it is, he's hot, he's got a nice ass and he's cute when he blushes.) This vein of arguing though did not seem to be making it past the kid's objection to impropriety. (Strange, since you haven't even done anything really improper yet.) So he pulled him again, away from the doors, away from the store front, around the corner where it was far less noticeable and pushed him back against the wall, saw that look of shock just before he bent and kissed him. Hands against his shoulders but not pinning him down anymore, just there.

There, with great predictability, (wait, what the fuck am I doing?) and hands against him, his chest, pushing him back. Just enough force to get Schuldig to move, not nearly enough to be considered putting up a fight. And Ken seemed to realize this, looked at him, and watched him lick his lips, the close space.

Schuldig let one of his hands slip off Ken's shoulder to press against the wall, elbow bent and supporting him, just enough space to give Ken room to breath through that internal confusion regarding his own lack of objection. Still close enough to keep the memory of the kiss and the words he'd been repeating right there in the front of Ken's mind. Let it linger there, just like that, and then moved forward again, caught his mouth in time with that hand still on his shoulder slipping down, rubbing against his chest, dragging his T-shirt up a bit, and Schuldig leaned closer, his leg brushing against Ken's.

(What--) No, didn't want to listen to any more of those thoughts, and little half-assed objections. Felt Ken move back into the kiss, his hands still on his chest, fingers curling in a bit now, not much more than that. Still unsure and wavering back to the safety of 'lets not do this' in his head. Schuldig dropped his hand lower, fingers against bare skin sliding around his side so his palm was against warm belly flesh. Closed the space between them more now, leg brushing with more insistence, trying to get between Ken's. Tipped his head and deepened the kiss, resting on his elbow against the wall and curling his fingers against the back of Ken's head. Met with no resistance (still a few whimpering thoughts of objection in his head) and slipped his hand up a little higher on Ken's belly, felt the hands on his chest flattening out, moving a bit, a little up, and a little down--still fighting against the impulse to let it go, but when pushed here like this--

Schuldig pressed his leg between Ken's, rubbed against him and broke the kiss, still right there, panting for breath in the same space. Pulled his hand around Ken's neck, tracing his skin with his fingers and down over his shoulder, looked up at his eyes. Half closed still. Rubbed his palm back up over his shoulder, and down his arm. Another brief kiss as he wrapped his fingers back around Ken's wrist, killing time until--

Murmured something in his throat, and felt those hips move back against his leg, just a little, just enough--Finally.

(Picked the most virginally offended non-virgin in the whole grocery store, did you?)

Pulled back from the kiss, lust and want evident, licked his lips and made another noise as he shifted against Ken, just a bit--not so much to set him off again--and then stepped back. "Come on." Tugged on his arm again and pulled Ken after him. Would have put his arm around him, but then people would see and that would be bad, or something stupid. Let go of his hand when Ken fell in step beside him. Stayed close enough to keep most of the flurry of those objections quiet. Some made it through, half-lame and nearly pointless, not much more than empty words.

"But I've got to do the shopping..." Ken said.

Schuldig ignored it, didn't really think that it even deserved a reply as half-assed a protest as it was. Something said more for the sake of saying it than the actual words. Kept them walking, noticed Ken matching the pace of his footsteps with nothing more hesitant than that reoccurring (what the fuck?) in his mind. Found the nearest hotel that didn't have a staff--(Didn't think Ken would survive the checking in process needed with a real person.) Pulled Ken toward the door and it was there that he balked, with Schuldig pulling the door open and holding it for him.

"Wait. Wait a minute!" Angry loud, blushing embarrassed. "Can you at least tell me what your name is?!" And then in his mind, the instant brightening burst of (what the fuck?) and the very near amazement at the loudness of his demand.

Schuldig reached out, grabbed him by the wrist--same half-grip as before, not pulling too hard--and tugged him forward. "Schuldig."

Anger and objection died under the weight of embarrassment--people must be looking, after all. They were standing in the doorway of a cheap love motel, Ken looking like an offended virgin and Schuldig standing there--all--like *that.* They had to be staring and assuming. (Should have stayed at the store--should have gone to a different store.)

Schuldig kept his hand on Ken, pulling him across the lobby to the display screens for the room, picked whichever one was closest and free and charged it to that expense account Schwarz had from Takatori (would really love to see what color Crawford would turn when that showed up on the billing.) Got the keycard and tugged Ken after him.

Listened the beat of his thoughts, each little objection voice itself and getting ignored in turn. (Shopping, need to do the shopping--don't do stuff like this. *never* do stuff like this. Have no idea why) That wasn't the truth, he had a few ideas why he was doing them, but they seemed to embarrass him so he ignored them. (Get out, Ken--get out of here while the going's good.) Not that going was good now, they were at the door to their room and there was very little room for escape.

Schuldig opened the door, catching the last objecting thought of Ken's as the door opened.

(Because really, you don't want to do this, you're not that kind of boy, I AM NOT GAY DAMMIT--Yeah, but...)

Not that grand inside, certainly made up to be exactly what it was--a cheap place to fuck, really. Schuldig closed the door after Ken and dropped the card on the little tray next to the door. Taking the time to kick his shoes off and push them in their place. Waited patiently while Ken did the proper Japanese thing and took his shoes off too.

Patient, patient--there. And moved, pushing him up against the wall next to the door (not the door, because if he hit the door it would make a louder sound and it would be audible in the hallway and he'd have to deal with those thoughts about how everyone could hear them and knew what they were doing and--) Kissed Ken, hands on his shoulders, fingers gripping and then slipping down to his arms. Waiting for the shock and the last dying objections to fade out of Ken's mind.

Still too hesitant, the kiss back, the hands against his chest again, half ready to push him back when that objecting voice in Ken's head finally got listened to and all of this nonsense about a mid-afternoon casual fuck was disposed of--Ken Hidaka had some shopping to do, after all. This thing right here, with his back against the wall was *most* definitely not shopping. Shopping didn't usually include that hand that was working its way under Ken's shirt.

Schuldig ran his hand over the warm skin of his belly, felt the muscles right there, wondered what exactly this guy did and didn't even really care. Pressed his leg between Ken's again, and put more urgency into the kiss. Enough of the slower and sweeter and nicer stuff. Both of his hands under Ken's shirt now, dragging it up, touching and petting and *feeling* every part of his chest. Up to Ken's shoulders, so the shirt was bunched up under his arms and then tugged it up more, breaking the kiss but Ken didn't raise his arms. (Wants his shirt on--strange that.)

Listened to the pitter-patter rain fall in Ken's head about the fact that he wasn't really gay (never mind that stuff with Kase, that was just--and that was different. He *loved* Kase.)

Kissed Ken again, dampening the thoughts just a little bit, rubbing his leg between Ken's, felt the hitch in his breath.

(Feels good.)

Yes, that was more the thought. Not the surge of confusion that came with it, but the thought and the sensation that shot through Ken. Felt the hands on his chest start to move a little. Dragged his hands down Ken's chest, over ribs and then over his belly, pressing a thumb against his navel and then lower. Fingertips against the waist of his pants, a little lower, under the fabric. Tugged the button loose and pushed his hand in, rubbing his palm against Ken and breaking the kiss to watch his face.

Something like shock--embarrassment a little maybe--and the almost secondary enjoyment. Liked that, liked being touched--liked the way it felt, not who was doing it or the very situation, still didn't understand how he'd gotten here but he was here and--

Got tired of that just about the time that Ken bit his lip, his hands sliding off Schuldig's chest to press against the wall. Had put enough damn work into this that he ought to be getting something out of it, so he pulled his hand free, grabbed Ken by the neck and kissed him again, tugging him backward. Felt the stumbling, the strangeness of having to bend and kiss and walk and Ken's still mumbling objections.

Got them to the bed, turned them around and pushed Ken onto it. Kiss broken, watched the instant reaction there, the look on his face, with his shirt still half under his arm and his pants undone--blushing again now that he was on the bed and--

(Oh God, this is real.) Maybe tried to push himself up with some half-assed objection because (this is *real*.)

Schuldig smiled, followed him down on the bed, his legs on either side of Ken's (not getting away, not even a little,) and urged him to pull himself further on the bed, felt him move to do it and kissed him again. Killing the objections with sensation. Fingers on that warm skin wherever it was bare, stomach, arms, neck, waist, navel--and all that lovely stretch of skin left bare by the open zipper of his pants.

(No, no, can't do this--can't do this--)

Schuldig moved away from his mouth, down to his neck, licked at the taste of his skin, and let his hands slide down inside of Ken's pants again, pushing his jeans lower--mouth still moving down, over his shirt now, trailing down his ribs--nipping a bit--and his stomach.

(Should go--really, what the fuck are you doing here? You should go--)

No. None of that, but he felt Ken rising up on his elbows again, and dragged his tongue down that line of hair from navel to--and tugged his pants down further again. They were bunched somewhere around his knees now.

Ken fell back against the bed in time with Schuldig running his tongue over him, slow and deliberate--while his hands rubbed his thighs, high up where they met his hip. Let his right hand curl around Ken and climbed back up to lay against him, weight to the side, watching his face while he moved his hand.

Breath coming faster now, hands curling in the blanket and something that might have been a curse word bitten off and held back. Shifting of those hips under his hand, rising to meet the rhythm as he moved with more speed, and his eyes going closed. Drowning those objections under the sheer weight of sensation--confident hand stroking him and all that weight against his side.

Schuldig stopped--sudden, listened to the protesting pant of breath, saw Ken's eyes open and look over at him, something like confusion there again, and something like disappointment.

(Uh--I was enjoying that.)

Schuldig smiled at him. "As wonderful a show as you are--there are other things I want to do."

Utter guilelessness on Ken's face. "Uh--*show*?" And then his brain caught up and his face blossomed out in that blush. The stumbled again on those (other things? What other things?) Imagining Schuldig up and leaving.

Not hardly.

Schuldig rolled away from Ken (is he leaving?) and fumbled with the bedside drawer, pulling it out and looking in, seeing if the nice people left them some--ah, yes. Better than hotel soap--hotel lube. In single use packets. So nice and convenient.

Rolled onto his back and dropped the packet onto Ken's chest with a triumphant grin, then tugged at his own pants to get the loose and pushed them down, pulling his legs up to free them and then tossing the pants off the bed. Looked back and found Ken trying to pull his legs free from his pants, somewhat without success. Watched him work at it for a minute, noting the muscles in his thighs and spending half a second to wonder what he did for a living. (Don't really care, though do you, just want the sex.) So he pulled them off for Ken, and leaned over him, between his legs now--felt his knees and his thighs, and the flex of those muscles around him--his hair falling down against Ken's chest.

Kissed him again, grinding his hips down, hot skin against his, hardness sliding back against him. Heard another muted sound rising out of Ken, felt him pushing back and the strange impatience in his head now. Different from the stumbling denial and pointless objections. (But the boy worked hard enough to get through his denial, probably deserves a little impatience after that.) Kissed him harder, let his fingers dig into skin and cloth.

Damn impatient now, with the flavor of that full-give in Ken's mind. Pulled out of the kiss, grabbed the lube and tugged the boy by the shoulder--pushing him over, almost getting kicked by the movement. But Ken rolled--very little objections now that he'd gotten past that wall of denial (strange, that--pretty fucking strange.) Schuldig wasn't about to question it. Ripped open the packet of lube with his teeth (got a bit of an unpleasant oily taste) and squeezed it out on his fingers.

Watched Ken pull his shirt down over his back (burn scars, there, really--what does this guy do?) and settle on his hands and knees. Nice and obedient boy. Schuldig ran his hand down Ken's back, over the shirt, stopping just at the base of his spine and pressed his fingers in, sliding on the slickness--but slowly because of the instant clench of muscle.

Another sound. Exhaled breath, hard over teeth with the edge of a half-spoken curse word. Ken's head tipping into his right shoulder, hiding his face behind the fall of his hair. Relaxing the rigidity of his muscles with some thought about the length of time since he was last in this position--

(Don't care so shut up.)

Schuldig pushed in deeper, gave a little rub and felt the shock of it run up Ken's spine, shuddering its way through his belly and down his arms, to his fists that were clenching the blanket tight now. Shift on his knees to change the angle of his hips and Ken made another tight noise--mouth open against the fabric of his shirt now.

Enough for him--spread the rest on himself, hissing at the coolness of it (shouldn't have been that cold pressed between them like it had been--damn shit always got cold fast) and tossed the empty packet off the bed, moving up behind Ken. Hand slipping off his back to curl around his hips and hold him there (unnecessary at this point, apparently the boy only had two settings: denial and fuck me now) as he pressed in.

Breathless, wet breaths through his teeth--Ken's body hot around his, and his mind caught up somewhere between the dull pain and the welcome sensation. Arms trembling with the effort to hold him up, and Schuldig stayed there--still--inside of him as deep as he could go, with one hand on his hip and the other sliding up the back of his shirt--toward his shoulder.

He licked his lips and waited, feeling the shifting and the flex of muscles around him, the pant of Ken's breath from his lungs and the very beat of his heart--felt it all, and stayed still. Sweat tracking down his forehead, down his hair, down his back--making his shirt stick (and why are you still half-dressed again?) Stayed there, immobile until Ken pushed back, a grunt of impatience there, but no words--not yet, and not really ever if they weren't necessary.

Actions speak louder, and that same bullshit.

It was enough for him; curled his hand around Ken's shoulder--stained his shirt for sure--and the other around his hip, rocked against him, drawing out and then pressing back in. Adjusted his knees on the bed a bit, and moved again--heard the catch of breath and felt the shiver run through Ken's body--found the right angle.

Smirked.

Moved now, no more slowness, no more deep consideration, just the movement. Bared his teeth and tasted his own sweat, hips bumping into Ken's--watched the sway of his hair with the movements and listened to the breaths in time with the thrusts. Heard the angry little thought in his head, something vicious and simple, thought mostly in terms of heat and need--(touch me)--but he didn't put a voice to it. Just there in Ken's mind, burning hotter with each thrust.

Pressed in and ground against him, leaning over his back--pressed his face against the back of Ken's neck, licked at the sweat. Shivering muscle under him--and Ken's arms gave way, he caught himself on his elbows, and ground out a "...Jesus...." Schuldig kept moving, bit more awkward now, slower, breathing against the back of his neck, panting in off-beat to his pants, and rubbing against him until Ken's head was nearly spinning with it.

That thought, soaked through with stink of sex--(Touch me)--repeating in his head.

Schuldig dug his fingers into Ken's hip harder, and fisted his shirt up in his other hand, pulling it tighter across his chest, so the fabric dragged against his chest and heard another tight groan. Pushed himself back, where he could push in harder, faster now. His own belly tightening up and his mind fuzzing out around the edges--mouth hanging open and the loud sound of his breath. More, now--thanks.

Pushed Ken to the edge of his patience, until he moved his arm, settling his weight on his left side and went to touch himself--then Schuldig smirked and let his hand slip around, dragging over that clenched belly and down between his thighs, rubbing his hand against Ken and earned another broken--"...Jesus..." Felt those hips pumping against his hand--the franticness of it, and the eager panting sounds that Ken was making. A little more effort and a little more need--

Muscles tightening and shifting and flexing, his whole body moving, pushing back against the thrusts and forward against Schuldig's hand. Buried his face in the crook of his arm, pulling the shirt tighter around his neck and his chest--sweat soaked like it was, and Schuldig smirked. Bent down and ran his tongue across Ken's skin, somewhere around his hip, up his side, far away from those scars-- Ah, there--one sudden sound--and then strangled silence, white noise between Ken's ears and nothing but heat and bliss and--there for a moment, Ken had forgotten everything. All the details, it was nothing but sensation. Skin, sweat, heat, hardness, that tingling ticklish, hot sunburst of raw endorphins--

Schuldig rubbed his hand on the bedspread, and then wrapped it back around Ken's hip, his movements erratic now, tightening, tightening--and shocks of it up and down his spine, in his belly and low in his hips, hot and heavy and--so close, there, somewhere--pressing deeper and deeper into Ken, body tight and hot and still slick. Smell stronger and the taste of his skin and sweat on Schuldig's tongue.

Stuttered out something, pressing in deep and digging his fingernails into skin, felt it rush through him and nearly drown in it--

Came down off the high faster than he wanted to--but that was the downfall of purely physical fucks. Maintained the presence of mind to fall onto the bed next to Ken rather than to collapse on top of him. Landed on his back--panting still, pushed the hair out of his face and then just lay there, hand still in his hair and one on his belly and his eyes half closed.

Ken, settling on the bed now, eyes closed, mind shifting back to that whimpering puppy (oh God, what have I done.) Proving that he really did only have two settings.

Schuldig looked over at him; saw him trying to look like he wasn't even really there, some sort of denial whereby he assumed that if he made no sudden movements Schuldig would forget he was around. Or just get up and leave. Seemed like a good idea. He sat up and let his legs drop off the side of the bed, leaned down and grabbed his pants he'd tossed aside earlier. Hated having to put them on with the sweat still drying on his skin--sticky that--and the general stink around him. Stood up and buttoned them around his waist, straightened his shirt and looked down at Ken.

"Well--" He said, and shook his head to get his hair over his shoulders. Heavy with sweat and disgusting as it was. "Bye," and rand his fingers through his hair to settle it. Headed toward the door. "Thanks--” Stopped to get his shoes, looked back over at Ken still on the bed. "What was your name, I never asked?" Nice little twist of pain in his head, that word floating around in Ken's skull (cheap slut) or something worse maybe. Shrugged his shoulders at the lack of an answer and turned to pull the door open. "Have fun shopping." Closed the door silently as he left, grinning all the way down the hall.
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Setting 2