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30 lemons challenge	By : aionwatha Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2202 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
Pairing/Fandom: Schuldig x Ken
(Weiß
Kreuz)

Theme: #2 – The
Audience

Title: Hell to pay

Author/Artist: Aionwatha

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz and
its characters do not belong to me. I’m borrowing them for a bit of fun.

Note: I liked the
other fic much better than this one, but there are
some things in this one that I like better than in “Confusion Leads the Dance”.
The number was chosen at random even though I happen to have written the
challenge #1 first and #2 second. O.o;

Two months ago, Ken had known it was
a mistake. Yet, impulsive as he was, he had gone with it, and now… Now he was
paying the price. If there’s a hell, this
is it, he thought. And of course, the asshole had to smile at this.

“Oh, but you’re not in hell just
yet, kitten.” Schuldig stood just about three feet in front of him, leaning a
hip carelessly against a very heavy looking wooden table, but Ken could not
reach him. A pity really. He’d love to strangle the bastard. “It could be much,
much worse, you see.”

Ken glared at him as he got closer.
Closer. Too close. Schuldig put a finger to the boy’s cheek and let it slide
slowly down to his jaw. Ken growled softly in warning, but the telepath only
smirked. He heard someone moan in pain. Turning to his right, he saw Omi was
coming to. Over Omi’s head, he could see Aya glaring at the German, and he
could only guess Youji was shackled to the wall on the other side of Aya.

Man, what a fix.

Suddenly, his face was forcefully
turned back towards Schuldig. The telepath hated being ignored, as Ken should
well know. The young assassin tried to fight back the fingers holding his chin
painfully in place, but Schuldig wouldn’t let him go. He barely saw the
dangerous glint in the man’s eyes before his lips descended on Ken’s.

Those sweet, hungry lips. If Ken
wasn’t careful, he’d let his eyes close. He’d let himself be brought back to
that first night, two months ago – no, 57 days to be precise; when out on a
cold lonely night he had found himself swept off his feet by the profane
telepath. He couldn’t exactly remember how or why. He could remember drinking
some, but not quite that much.

All he knew was that night, his
heart had sunk when he had left the quiet bar. It had ached for something
special; arms around him, lips against his, someone somewhere to know that he
existed if only for one night. Maybe it was the way the lone moon had hung into
the black empty sky, the city lights drowning out any stars that may have been
out there; or maybe it was just the way the cold wind whined between the tall
buildings lining the streets like silent guardians, sleeping in the cold rainy
night.

Whatever it was, when he had found
himself shivering there, under the icy rain, the warmth of another body right
next to him at the red light had felt good. The large umbrella over his head
had protected him from the ice cold tears from the sky; cold like the eyes that
met his as he turned to look at the taller man. He might have gasped, he didn’t
remember too well. But he hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t run away. He had stood
there until the light had turned to green and by then, some sort of silent
communication had passed between them. It had no words; it wasn’t like he had
heard the telepath talk in his head. He had simply known he should follow him
and that he would. And so he had.

He had followed his deadly enemy to
a night of lust, of passion, of soft groans and sharp cries. To a pit of red
velvet luxuriant hell, stretched out under a taller, stronger body. Feeling long
fingers hold his hips possessively, tilting his head as teeth grazed the side
of his neck, letting himself become pliant under another’s command, his body
carefully playing the tune set for him, reverberating each of the rough caresses
like sweet shivers running through him, eliciting soft mewls and gasps from
kiss swollen lips.

How many times since had he returned
to those arms, devoid of all comfort but the one given through the flesh? How
many times had he gone to sink against the cold glaciers of those hard blue
eyes? He had lost count. He had lost control. He was drowning.

He heard a moan and was mortified to
realize it came from him. The shame made him react: he turned his head away,
trying to push Schuldig off weakly, but the movement was cut short in a clatter
of chains. He heard the man snort. He couldn’t raise his eyes, couldn’t turn
his head. He knew that if he did, he would turn to his teammates and see the
disgust and betrayal in their eyes.

“Ken.” His skin crawled even as his
breath hitched, just hearing Schuldig say his name. Not his family name, not
his codename. His given name. “Ken,
come to me.”

He shook his head, the chain
clinking together a little at the movement. He kept his eyes fixed on the
floor, refusing to look up. If he looked into those eyes, he was lost.

“Ken.”

Schuldig’s hand came forward again
and tilted his chin up so that he had to look up. He closed his eyes. There was
a soft mocking chuckle.

“Tsk tsk. Bad kitty.”

The slap echoed in the dimly lit
basement as Ken’s face snapped to the right sharply. He screwed his eyes shut.
He refused to see Omi’s look of shock and horror, or Aya’s glare, or even Youji’s accusing frown. So he didn’t look.

He couldn’t help the soft gasp of
surprise that escaped his lips as Schuldig’s familiar weight settled against
his body, pressing him against the wall even as his lips found his sensitive
spot on Ken’s now exposed jaw, just a little below his left ear. “You try to
resist, kitten, but you never could!”

Ken hated the mockery in Schuldig’s
voice, but he hated his own weakness even more. The German was right; he had
never been able to resist any of Schuldig’s mental calls since that first rainy
night two months ago, and he probably would never be able to resist him. He was
addicted, and already his body was starting to react to the familiar caresses.
One of Schuldig’s hands was on his left hip; the other was splayed against the
right side of his chest, running roughly down over Ken’s shirt, under his
jacket. He arched his back slightly, hoping his teammates hadn’t noticed,
praying they couldn’t see how well Schuldig knew his body already. Inside out.

He heard the chuckle, right in his
ear. There was a sharp tug to his earlobe as Schuldig nipped at it. “You can’t
resist, you’re mine.” Nibbles trailed down the side of his neck and Ken groaned. He clamped his mouth shut, teeth clicking
together sharply. He heard chains rattle somewhere to his right – one of his
teammates trying to free himself he guessed.

“Let him go,” he heard a voice growl
and was surprised to recognize it as Aya’s.

Schuldig stepped away from him and
laughed. Funny how he could breathe better when the man wasn’t flush against
him. Eyes still firmly closed, Ken breathed deeply in a few times, like a man
who knows the next wave might drag him under, like a man who doesn’t know when
his next breath will be.

“No, I won’t let him go,” Schuldig
was saying, laughter still tainting every word with mockery. “He is mine. And
I’ll show you just how mine he really is!”

Ken felt himself shaking his head
before it actually registered that he wanted to protest. But already he felt
the shackles loosening their hold and he slumped forward, promptly caught by
familiar hands.

Schuldig’s scent. The soft red locks
caressing over his cheek.

He opened his eyes.

Schuldig pushed him away just enough
to look at him in the face, perking an eyebrow mockingly at him and etching a
wide, crooked grin. Oh yeah, that cat got the cream alright. And the canary.
And the fish. And just whatever else it was that cats liked in the first place.
Ken felt his cheeks heat up and he looked away. And not where his teammates were either. He pointedly looked right over
Schuldig’s shoulder.

But the German wouldn’t be ignored
or denied any longer. With a very distinct smirk thrown right at Aya, or so Ken
guessed for the sheer drop in temperature the room seemed to get from what he
supposed was Aya’s icy glare, Schuldig leaned forward and kissed him again.

At first, Ken made sure he didn’t
twitch a muscle. He wouldn’t react at all. Maybe if he was totally detached and
refusing to cooperate, Schuldig would get tired of him. Maybe. Hopefully. But
then… why were his hands gripping the telepath’s shoulders so tightly? Why was
his body leaning forward minutely, asking for just a little more, just a little
longer, just a little harsher? With a smirk Ken could feel against his lips, Schuldig
gave him exactly what he needed and then some. His tongue pushed forward, and
what could Ken do but surrender to him, what could he do but part his lips and
let the redhead take utter possession of his mouth?

Vaguely, he felt his jacket being
pushed off of his shoulders and arms to the cold ground. Some small pocket of
rationality still left within his feverish mind was screaming at him to stop,
stop this madness; his friends, his teammates were watching! He never wanted any
of them to see him like this! But the voice was fading away under the heat, the
caresses, the kiss.

Schuldig could play him like a
finely tuned instrument. It was embarrassing, it was frustrating, it was…
heaven. His arms wrapped around the telepath’s neck and his body melted against
the taller man. His head tilted up as
Schuldig devoured his mouth and he closed his eyes, not in refusal. He
surrendered.

Schuldig broke the kiss and Ken
didn’t need to open his eyes to know the other looked smug and pleased with
himself. He was spun around and shoved rather harshly against something hard.
He groaned as it dug in the back of his thighs, just under his ass. He put his
hands back to support himself and realized it had to be the rough wooden table
he had seen but hardly noticed when he had first come to.

Schuldig’s hands ran roughly down
his sides, and Ken let out a deep moan just as the telepath grabbed his ass,
heaving him up to sit on the table, shoving his mouth on the young assassin for
another searing kiss. Ken tore his head away, panting. “S… Stop it…”

Please… Not in front of them…

But Schuldig grinned. “I don’t want
to stop,” he said, and he rubbed his hand on Ken’s hardening erection. “And I
don’t think you want to stop either.”

Ken groaned, feeling his cheeks heat
up. He felt his orange sweater coming undone and then Schuldig was unbuttoning
and unzipping his jeans, shoving a hand inside. He heard a gasp of surprise, a
growl and some chains clanking loudly. But Schuldig was kissing him again,
jerking him off at the same time, and Ken could barely remember his name, much
less why the sounds were supposed to get his attention.

Schuldig hooked his fingers on the
waistband of both his jeans and boxers together and tugged lightly. Ken raised
his hips, leaning on his hands and soon the clothes were on the floor, soon
joined by his T-shirt. Another kiss and Ken’s hands went to undo his lover’s
jacket – “lover”, although there was nothing remotely like love between them.
There was lust, desire, and an undeniable attraction, but that’s where the
feelings ended. They were enemies. They knew it, and they didn’t care. ‘Lovers’
they were, although the word only meant they found completion in each other
through the dark cold empty nights. Like tonight.

“Ken!” He heard the incredulous
shout, but when he went to turn to the voice, Schuldig’s hand stopped his head
and drew it forward for one of his mind-blowing kisses. Ken forgot all about it
and pushed the jacket off of the redhead’s shoulders.

His hands went to the pants next, undoing
them with practiced ease. There was a gasp of surprise and he paused, but
Schuldig ran a hand through his hair. “Good boy,” he purred in Ken’s ear. Pleased,
the younger man finished what he was doing and took Schuldig out of his pants,
stroking him gently and getting a soft hiss from the German.

He worked him into hardness, leaning
forward and kissing him hungrily. Schuldig grinned and fenced their tongues
together before nipping at his lower lip. Ken moaned deeply in his throat. He
heard noise: chains, yells, threats; but it was all muted and distant. He
ignored it.

Schuldig was growling possessively
in his ear. Ken knew the signs. He widened his legs on either side of the
telepath, leaning his pelvis forward. “Do it,” he whispered urgently. Schuldig
dug into his back pocket and retrieved a small sample-type packet of lube, making
Ken wonder if he just went around carrying that with him or if he had planned
this. Some small unease made its way to his conscious mind, but quickly
disappeared. He was supposed to be worried or upset about something… but he couldn’t remember what.

He moaned softly as Schuldig’s
finger probed around his entrance. Arching his back, he looked up blearily
through half-lidded eyes, wondering why the ceiling looked so dark and gloomy.
Where were they anyway? He felt so confused, so lost… but it was Schuldig, and
their usual game of passion and desire. Everything was fine.

He felt one finger go in and he made
a soft whimpering sound. Someone called out his name again. It wasn’t Schuldig.
Schuldig purred his name out softly, or said it with a sneer. He never called
out to him like this. He turned towards the call, but Schuldig stopped him,
smirking. “Look at me, kitten. I don’t want you looking away from me.”

His ice blue eyes burned into him
icier than the cold moonlight. The finger in him started moving in and out
slowly and Ken moaned, keeping his eyes fixed on Schuldig’s. The redhead
grinned at him and Ken found himself smiling back, only to gasp and arch his
back a little more as the finger left him to return with a second.

“Do you want it, Ken? Do you want
more?” Schuldig was positively smirking now, perking an eyebrow tauntingly at
him. And what could Ken do but nod wordlessly? But it wasn’t enough. “Say it!”

“I want you in me, Schuldig. I need
it please…”

“Louder! I can’t hear you!” Schuldig
twisted his fingers in him and started rubbing against his prostate. Ken moaned
and fell back to lay completely on the table.

“Oh gods!” he cried, “Do it!
Schuldig, do it, damnit! I can’t wait anymore, I’m gonna burst you bastard!
Just fuck me already!!”

There was a gasp, a cry of
disbelief, and the wild clanking of chains, but Ken was lost in his own little
world of pleasure. And Schuldig was smirking; smirking and caressing him inside
and out and suddenly he was gone, he was readying himself and finally! Finally,
he was pushing in. Ken moaned, writhing onto the heavy looking slab of wood
that was the tabletop. His senses seemed strangely heightened, and he felt like
his mind was being pulled in all directions all at once.

Schuldig gave a rough jab of his
pelvis that rocked him, and Ken moaned. Another and Ken cried out softly.
Another came, and then another and another, and Ken was moaning and groaning,
moving his hips, meeting each and every thrust forward. One of the legs on the
table was a little unstable and he could hear it hit the ground every time
Schuldig’s hips snapped forward, giving him more of that screaming pleasure
spiraling up in him like madness.

Schuldig lifted Ken’s right leg over
his shoulder and the young assassin twisted a little to adjust. He felt so open
and vulnerable like this… he loved it. That’s how their games always ended.
Schuldig would take him, utterly possess him, and Ken would love every minute
of it. He relinquished the control and let himself feel. The new position got
Schuldig a different angle and he started thrusting hard into the boy again,
eliciting groans and cries that demanded more, more, harder, deeper, don’t
stop, more please. And Schuldig indulged him, snapping his hips forward,
holding Ken’s legs apart, on the German’s shoulder, the other on the table,
bent at the knee. He fucked him harder than he ever had, as if he wanted Ken to
feel him inside for a whole week.

Ken couldn’t take it much longer. He
wrapped his hand around his cock and started jerking off, moaning and crying
out Schuldig’s name in a crescendo of want and need that filled his entire
being. In and out Schuldig went, up and down his hand went; the rhythm
matching, speeding up, getting erratic as Ken neared his climax. His cries grew
louder, more feverish as finally he came, the clear white fluid shooting in
spasm as he reached his completion.

Schuldig’s hands let go of his legs
to settle on Ken’s sides, where his fingers dug wells in the boy’s hips. He
thrust hard as Ken tightened around him, making it nice and hot around
Schuldig, wanting him to come inside him, to mark Ken as his. The telepath
growled softly, and Ken felt his sperm coat him insides, hot and slick. He
moaned softly, but it turned into a soft pleading whimper a second later when
Schuldig pulled out.

The telepath grinned at him, patting
his head lightly. “Good boy,” he said, and Ken sat up to kiss him. Schuldig met
him with a grin, before leaning one hand on the table, kissing him lustily, his
tongue dancing with Ken’s, fucking his mouth like pure sin. He stood up again
with a smirk and fixed his pants, smoothing out the folds in his shirt. He
flipped his hair back over his shoulder and laughed.

“Now, Kenken,
I think you have a lot of explaining
to do.”

And suddenly, he remembered where he
was, why he was there, and worse! He remembered that his teammates had been
watching this whole time. How could he have forgotten?! How could he have let
himself get so caught up in their sensual game that he actually forgot Aya,
Youji and Omi in the room with them?! He never would have! Had Schuldig played
with his mind somehow?

“Sure did!” came the easy response
and he glared at the man. Schuldig only grinned that psycho grin he could have
sometimes – especially when he had done something naughty. Ken flopped back
onto the table with a groan. “Now it was fun playing with you and all but… as
much as you enjoy my company, I must leave.” Dramatic sigh. “Stay alive, Weiss
kittens!” And with a kiss on Ken’s cheek, he was gone.

Ken could only imagine his
teammates’ glaring faces. He didn’t want to see them. Twisting to his side, he
curled into a tight ball and screwed his eyes shut.

Maybe, when he opened them, the
world would be right again.

~Owari~
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30 lemons challenge