Strange Times
folder
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
50
Views:
4,179
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
50
Views:
4,179
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
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.
23
Aya’s mood tore through Schuldich’s mind like nails digging into his back in the middle of sex, aggressive and orgasmic all wrapped into one instant of atavistic violence. Murderous intent twined with an aroused interest confused and convoluted enough to make an awkward teen proud, and Schuldich entered the apartment whispering dares into Aya’s mind, encouraging, taunting, tainting…
He expected the sword thrust with deadly precision towards his heart, swaying out of the way as he slipped the door shut. What he didn’t expect were the lips that latched onto his with a muffled growl. Sucking up Aya’s need to be in control, to dominate in any and every way possible, like the heady drug it was, Schuldich melded himself against the assassin, pressing against a body that for once didn’t howl in outrage at the contact. His attention fixed on the present, each heartbeat pulling him from one second to the next, capturing him, pulling every telepathic spec back from half aware wandering. Aya hated him, wanted to protect him, hated Weiss, wanted to protect Weiss.
‘Poor kitten, can’t have everything.’
No, Aya couldn’t, but as Schuldich skimmed through that orderly mind spinning in such a delightful bit of disarray, he caught a bit of what Aya had pulled from one of his psychotic bursts. Aya couldn’t have it all, but he was going to set things straight, set the rules, in a way Schuldich would understand. In the way Crawford had been the first to fully employ. A rational decision fueled by a supernatural bit of temper. Such a delicious juxtaposition between calculating and volatile, the perfect leash and collar. The only restraints Schuldich would recognize were the fingers busy bruising his arms, the hips pressing him back against the apartment door.
After all, even chaos incarnate needed a controlling factor, a method to keep a name steady amidst the ecstatic confusion.
‘Knock, knock.’ Schuldich whispered against Aya’s mind, a little concession to common courtesy, and then let go.
It was a bad idea. Aya would freely admit that. It dissolved too many lines he had been trying to hold, drew up new ones he had been trying to ignore. It would further strain the tenuous ties holding Weiss together. But Schuldich’s mind surged in his, pulsing with acceptance, approval, and appreciation. Schuldich’s body slid and pressed against his with a hedonistic abandon. It was wrong, kissing the mouth of his sister’s abductor, biting the throat of the manipulative murderer that had confounded and confused them at every opportunity. But it was contact and a connection he had not felt in a long time.
It was the frantic insistence of two people who had very little to lose that stumbled with them across the kitchen, fumbled with buttons and zippers and hauled off every offending bit of cloth. It was an acceptance of that grey area between the good and the bad that Aya had been ignoring for as long as he could remember, an acceptance of the man beneath him who stared up with lidded, lusty eyes, who panted from a slight part in bruised bleeding lips.
It was a bad idea but Schuldich was not all there inside that skull of his, was too busy dragging himself through every inch of Aya’s mind like some sort of cat insistent on scent marking every bit of the furniture. It was frightening. It was intoxicating.
It was a bad idea, but Schuldich wrapped long, strong legs around Aya’s waist and hauled him close, rocking up and rubbing against Aya part in affirmation of shared arousal, part in invitation. It was a bad idea that felt perfectly acceptable. It was Schuldich.
And Schuldich shouted in a throaty, human voice as Aya thrust forward, making his decision.
‘Kill me or fuck me, but don’t send me away.’
He had had his chance to kill the telepath. Which only left one option.
It would work out. There would be blood, there would be shouting, but eventually someone had to see reason. It would be later, it would be someone else, as right then, Aya was too busy seeing red.
He expected the sword thrust with deadly precision towards his heart, swaying out of the way as he slipped the door shut. What he didn’t expect were the lips that latched onto his with a muffled growl. Sucking up Aya’s need to be in control, to dominate in any and every way possible, like the heady drug it was, Schuldich melded himself against the assassin, pressing against a body that for once didn’t howl in outrage at the contact. His attention fixed on the present, each heartbeat pulling him from one second to the next, capturing him, pulling every telepathic spec back from half aware wandering. Aya hated him, wanted to protect him, hated Weiss, wanted to protect Weiss.
‘Poor kitten, can’t have everything.’
No, Aya couldn’t, but as Schuldich skimmed through that orderly mind spinning in such a delightful bit of disarray, he caught a bit of what Aya had pulled from one of his psychotic bursts. Aya couldn’t have it all, but he was going to set things straight, set the rules, in a way Schuldich would understand. In the way Crawford had been the first to fully employ. A rational decision fueled by a supernatural bit of temper. Such a delicious juxtaposition between calculating and volatile, the perfect leash and collar. The only restraints Schuldich would recognize were the fingers busy bruising his arms, the hips pressing him back against the apartment door.
After all, even chaos incarnate needed a controlling factor, a method to keep a name steady amidst the ecstatic confusion.
‘Knock, knock.’ Schuldich whispered against Aya’s mind, a little concession to common courtesy, and then let go.
It was a bad idea. Aya would freely admit that. It dissolved too many lines he had been trying to hold, drew up new ones he had been trying to ignore. It would further strain the tenuous ties holding Weiss together. But Schuldich’s mind surged in his, pulsing with acceptance, approval, and appreciation. Schuldich’s body slid and pressed against his with a hedonistic abandon. It was wrong, kissing the mouth of his sister’s abductor, biting the throat of the manipulative murderer that had confounded and confused them at every opportunity. But it was contact and a connection he had not felt in a long time.
It was the frantic insistence of two people who had very little to lose that stumbled with them across the kitchen, fumbled with buttons and zippers and hauled off every offending bit of cloth. It was an acceptance of that grey area between the good and the bad that Aya had been ignoring for as long as he could remember, an acceptance of the man beneath him who stared up with lidded, lusty eyes, who panted from a slight part in bruised bleeding lips.
It was a bad idea but Schuldich was not all there inside that skull of his, was too busy dragging himself through every inch of Aya’s mind like some sort of cat insistent on scent marking every bit of the furniture. It was frightening. It was intoxicating.
It was a bad idea, but Schuldich wrapped long, strong legs around Aya’s waist and hauled him close, rocking up and rubbing against Aya part in affirmation of shared arousal, part in invitation. It was a bad idea that felt perfectly acceptable. It was Schuldich.
And Schuldich shouted in a throaty, human voice as Aya thrust forward, making his decision.
‘Kill me or fuck me, but don’t send me away.’
He had had his chance to kill the telepath. Which only left one option.
It would work out. There would be blood, there would be shouting, but eventually someone had to see reason. It would be later, it would be someone else, as right then, Aya was too busy seeing red.