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Dragon Cycle	By : RubyRoh Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6229 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own WeiÃŸ Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 24
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- 26
Dragon Cycle – Chapter 25 – Come Out And Play
Author's Notes: It’s been *mumble* years since I tackled this fic, but it nagged at me through all those years that I hadn’t finished it. So I got to work recently, and now it’s complete. This is the next chapter in the story.
No beta was used for this chapter so any grammar, punctuation, spelling, translation, characterization, etc. mistakes are purely my own work.

********************
Listening to the string quartet specially hired for the night fight a valiant but losing battle against the loud chatter of the invited guests, Crawford resisted the urge to sigh heavily. He much preferred the delicate music to the overwhelming buzz of talk but he couldn’t ask the guests to shut up and show some appreciation for the effort being put in by the musicians. This wasn’t his party. He was simply the hired help; his presence tolerated only because he was doing his job.
He swept his gaze around the brightly decorated room. There was nothing to see that he hadn’t seen before: a whole lot of Takatori’s friends, associates and colleagues, all standing around stroking each other’s dicks – metaphorically speaking, of course. Their wives had to be commended on managing to look interested through it all. Of course, not all of them were putting on a show. Some of them were as ambitious for their husbands as their husbands were for themselves.
Not that Crawford cared. The only thing that interested him about this whole gathering was that he’d foreseen no trouble tonight. Given the state of his Talent, that was no guarantee nothing would happen but he was confident the party would be trouble-free. However, speaking of trouble…
He directed his attention across the room to where Schuldig stood looking far less bored than he no doubt felt. The telepath was attracting the attention of some of the guests, but that was half the reason behind them being there. Takatori loved showing off his gaijin bodyguards. Despite his height, Crawford sometimes slipped under the radar of the locals because of his coloring. Schuldig, however, stood out like a beacon. Normally the telepath loved attention, but he detested being put on show by Takatori. Crawford was certain he could feel the German’s irritation, even at this distance.
Sensing that Schuldig was about to look his way, Crawford turned his attention to Takatori, who was talking with a couple of his supporters.
Don’t ignore me, Schuldig scolded.
Is such a thing even possible? Crawford mocked.
Can’t you tell the old bastard you’ve foreseen an attack by supporters of a political rival and bring this so-called party to an end?
No, Crawford replied simply.
If you don’t let me go out after this…
You’re not going anywhere, Schuldig. And, Crawford added quickly, as I recall we’ve already had this conversation, so there’s no more to be said.
You might as well put your shields all the way up again, Schuldig advised. You’re no fucking fun and you seem hell-bent on not letting me have any fucking fun.
Ignoring the peeved German’s advice, Crawford also refrained from answering him. Baiting Schuldig when he was in this mood was a recipe for disaster, and Crawford wasn’t in the mood to tempt fate. Besides, he was certain that Schuldig was using his Talent to keep Farfarello, stationed outside, fully apprised of just how pissed off he was.
No doubt Farfarello was being suitably sympathetic - enough that he’d garner Schuldig’s compliance later tonight.
Crawford had already Foreseen the romp in the hot spring. When it came to the carnal, it seemed his Talent was functioning perfectly. He could only rue the fact it wasn’t so precise when it came to more useful matters.
Setting aside his personal distaste for the vision, Crawford chose to take satisfaction from the fact that he’d allow things to progress as he’d Seen. Later, he’d be more than happy to remind Schuldig of his accusations regarding fun, and he’d take considerable – and perverse – pleasure in spoon-feeding the German as he was forced to eat his words.
Feeling a gaze settle heavily on him, Crawford looked in that direction, meeting Schuldig’s gaze briefly before looking away. Somehow, he resisted the urge to give the telepath a smug smile.

************************

Hidden by darker shadows in the dark night, he rested back against a tree and watched as the last of the party guests took their leave. About fucking time, too. He supposed he should give thanks that he, at least, hadn’t been required to be inside the house to carry out his duties. That truly would have been Hell on earth.
He smiled meanly as he recalled his telepathic discussions with Schuldig during the party. Even without that connection he’d been easily able to sense the irritation and boredom radiating from his team mate. The German had to be thoroughly pissed to be throwing off emotion like that. They had a word for it, too, the Germans, a word for the mean enjoyment of someone else’s misfortune, but he couldn’t…
Schadenfreude.
He chuckled lowly to himself. I love it when you speak German to me, he sent back.
Fuck you, Irish, Schuldig returned.
Come out here and say that, Farfarello challenged, his tone full of malicious amusement.
Getting no response, he figured Schuldig had grown bored with the exchange and turned his attention elsewhere. He and Schuldig had been intermittently chit-chatting throughout the evening – well, to be more precise, Schuldig had bitched a lot and Farfarello had acted as his sounding board, allowing the German to share his disgust with this duty and the people he was forced to associate with in his role as bodyguard to a criminally inclined Japanese politician. Farfarello contented himself with the thought that, although not enamored of this duty, at least he wasn’t inside the house. It was one of the many benefits of looking like the psychopath he was.
Reaching a hand down to mid-thigh level, he closed his fingers around the micarta handle of the knife he’d implanted in the tree trunk, and pulled. The blade separated from the wood with a creak that sounded loud in the quiet night. Now, with his gaze firmly fixed on the brightly-lit house several meters away, he began plunging the blade back into the trunk. He amused himself by seeing how close he could get the razor-sharp blade to his thigh without spilling blood and, as he stabbed relentlessly at the tree, he called to his trapped team mate.
Come out, Schuldig; come out and play.
After a couple of minutes, Crawford’s voice crackled to life in his earpiece advising that their duty was completed. Farfarello didn’t bother holding back on his snort of derision at the word ‘duty’ before acknowledging the message. He remained where he was, stabbing the tree trunk as he waited.
It was almost twenty minutes more before he heard footsteps crunching on the gravel of the pathway leading from the back of the house. Then he heard Crawford say “That’s enough, Schuldig,” in low, annoyed tones and the German’s short, mean laugh.
Farfarello’s hand stilled and, a minute or so later, Crawford and Schuldig passed him.
“We’re done here, come back to the house.” Crawford raised his voice to address the Irishman, invisible in the darkness and shadows.
Farfarello ignored him. Crawford probably knew what he had planned and was trying to thwart him. It wouldn’t work, not tonight. Tonight there was only one man who could thwart Farfarello’s plans and, should he do so, he’d have answered a question that had been on Farfarello’s mind for days now: was Schuldig really through with him? All that would remain would be the reasons why and he’d have those from the mouthy German. Schuldig was overly fond of the sound of his own voice, so he should have no problem with offering up an explanation as to why he’d decided to end this liaison.
You want answers? Wait for me by the hot spring.
Farfarello gave a feral smile at the sound of the smooth-as-silk voice in his head. The sensuality of that tone had to be deliberate. Usually, hearing the telepath speaking in his head didn’t send a shiver of delicious anticipation up his spine.
I do it especially for you because I know how much it turns you on, Schuldig explained. There was no denying the lecherous tone to his mental voice.
Maybe I should be worried then, Farfarello responded, since you rarely do anything nice for anyone unless there’s a sting in the tail.
You don’t have to be at the hot spring, of course, Schuldig purred lowly, but I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.
Farfarello offered the darkness another malicious smile and pushed away from the tree.
Making his way to the onsen, he spoke the telepath’s name mentally, trying to attract his attention. He got no response. He couldn’t feel Schuldig in his head, either. All of which was good – because he was entertaining thoughts he didn’t want to share with the German, mostly thoughts centering on how he’d waited too long and would not be put off this time.
Schuldig may like to think he always held the upper hand in their dealings, but Farfarello was ready, willing and, more importantly, able to disavow him of that belief. After all, beliefs of any color were fair game to Farfarello.
Being left to his own devices for what he considered too long a time had allowed Farfarello to devote significant thought to the problem of getting what he wanted when he fucked the telepath.
He knew that starting down a track Schuldig didn’t like was a dead end street. The German would simply delve into his head and change his mind about the level of enjoyment to be had from the activity. Yeah, do something Schuldig didn’t like, and Schuldig would make sure you didn’t like it, either.
Then there was the other end of the scale; where Farfarello was too far gone into blood lust and psychosis for Schuldig to reach. In that instance, the telepath would deliver a mind smack hard enough to stun the Irishman then bolt.
So, he guessed that left him with middle ground, which was unfamiliar territory for Farfarello; territory he didn’t do well in.
Glimpses of lights through the trees ahead caught his attention and he strolled in that direction, hoping Schuldig wasn’t far behind him. He was eager to get down to business.

**************************

Stepping out from amongst the trees, Farfarello gave the onsen the once over. Submerged lights illuminated the milky water and the steam rising into the cool night air, and cast shadows and light on the surrounding rocks. He hadn’t noticed the smell during his last visit, but it was obvious tonight. However, it didn’t detract from the allure of the spring and all that might be accomplished there.
He took up a place under a nearby tree, not willing to go to the change room and get naked in anticipation of events to come; not willing to deprive himself of the sensation of having Schuldig undress him.
The wait seemed inordinately long, and Farfarello was certain it wasn’t just his eagerness that made it seem that way. He began to think that maybe Crawford had coaxed the German into staying with him.
You always think the worst of me. Schuldig’s amused complaint sounded sensual in Farfarello’s mind.
He suppressed a shudder of pleasure. And I’m rarely wrong to do so, he sent back as he straightened and turned.
Schuldig appeared out of the night, still dressed in his mission suit. Farfarello approved the way white always looked so blasphemous on the German.
“You’re one to talk,” Schuldig mocked as he approached. “As for Crawford…”
Farfarello suddenly found himself sandwiched between a tree and a bodyguard, soft lips pressing roughly against his own in a hard kiss. As unexpectedly as it had started, the kiss stopped and Schuldig drew back slightly, looking into the Irishman’s eye.
“…I don’t always bend over and grab my ankles for him,” he whispered before bringing their lips together again.
Farfarello wound his arms around the telepath, pressing him closer and enjoying the feel of that hard body against his own.
‘Too long, too long’ was the only thought circulating in his mind. His previous resolve to do things his way had dissipated immediately they’d come together. Forget calling the shots. If it meant keeping Schuldig’s hands and mouth on him, he could be willingly submissive.
Once again the German broke the kiss then bit and licked his way along Farfarello’s jaw line. “Have you missed me?” he breathed into the Irishman’s ear.
Farfarello clutched harder at Schuldig and, in a lightning-fast move, spun them around so that the telepath was now pressed against the tree. “Missed being with someone who didn’t want to be with me?” he goaded, grasping hold of Schuldig’s wrists and inserting a knee between his legs.
“Oh,” Schuldig pouted, not showing the least desire to fight against the holds on him, “who said I didn’t want to be with you?”
Farfarello answered by pressing himself along the length of the other man’s body and kissing him hard. Schuldig had some dues to pay for putting him off for so long and Farfarello was intent on collecting those dues – for as long as the telepath allowed it.
Right now it seemed Schuldig had no objections to his treatment, so Farfarello pressed a little harder and kissed a little deeper. After long moments, he moved his lips and teeth to the telepath’s throat. Schuldig’s low sound of approval and the way he tipped his head back to allow better access only encouraged Farfarello.
He kissed and nipped and tried not to think too hard about his good fortune. For now, the telepath seemed lost in the moment and Farfarello didn’t want to jolt him back to reality with an errant thought or two. He just wanted to enjoy what was being offered and take full advantage for as long as it lasted.
His last nip drew blood and caused Schuldig to jerk in surprise. But the sensual moan that followed offered nothing but encouragement.
Oh, yeah, I could get used to this, Farfarello thought as he ran his tongue over the bite. Blood from a stranger never tasted as sweet as this blood, given freely and without fear. He pressed his thigh harder against the junction of Schuldig’s legs and rubbed a little, drawing another moan from the German.
This time Farfarello couldn’t prevent his own moan. He was already hard just from this contact with his still-clothed team mate. He wanted – very badly – to be naked. He wanted – even more badly – for Schuldig to be naked. But to achieve either of those goals, he had to relinquish his holds on the German’s wrists and, right now, he was disinclined to do that. He liked the soft warmth of Schuldig’s flesh and the contrasting hardness of his bones just beneath the skin. To Farfarello that feeling was a major turn-on. Then there was the feel of chest pressing against chest, the taste of blood as he nipped just a little too hard once more, the sounds of Schuldig’s moans and harsh breathing.
Farfarello decided this was worth the wait. Now, if only he had four hands…
…because he didn’t want to let go his holds on the German, but he wanted desperately to wrap his arms around him. With only two hands, he couldn’t do both and he had to decide which desire to give in to.
Before long his lips, still busy at Schuldig’s throat, encountered cloth and his decision was made. He let go his holds on the German’s wrists and made short work of jacket buttons, tie and shirt buttons. He slid his hands under the opened shirt and onto warm flesh, stretched taut over hard ribs. His erection throbbed and his balls ached with need.
Pulling Schuldig away from the tree, Farfarello wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight and kissing him hard. He felt hands on his ass, urging him closer and putting unbearable pressure on his aching cock. He was going to come in his pants if they didn’t undress and get into the spring in the next couple of minutes.
He moved his hands up to Schuldig’s shoulders and began to slide the telepath’s jacket and shirt off all in one fluid movement. As he did so, the bastard German slipped a hand between their bodies and rubbed his cock. For a second, Farfarello thought his legs were going to give out on him, but they held up. He cursed his team mate, causing Schuldig to laugh lowly and lean in closer to catch him up in another bruising kiss.
Farfarello almost jumped out of his skin when he felt fingers wrap around his cock. Flesh on flesh. How the fuck had Schuldig done that without him noticing?
I’m a man of many Talents. Schuldig’s mental voice cooed through the Irishman’s mind while his hand worked him closer to climax.
Distraction tactics. Farfarello had worked in the field long enough to recognize what was happening. He pushed against Schuldig, forcing the telepath back against the tree.
“You can jerk me off, but I’ll still fuck you,” he promised, his voice low and husky.
“Oh?” Schuldig smirked. “Is that your plan?”
Farfarello hissed air through his teeth as Schuldig firmed his grip slightly. He leaned against the German, clinging to him in an effort to remain standing as the other man pushed him towards release.
Bastard, Schuldig. You’re such a bastard, Farfarello thought at his team mate.
A gut punch would end this, but right now it was all he could do to stay on his feet. Besides, gut punching Schuldig would end the whole rendezvous and that wasn’t what Farfarello wanted.
What’s this? Name-calling and threats of physical violence when all I’m trying to do is make you feel good, Schuldig taunted.
The sound of his mental voice – so sensual, so intimate – made Farfarello moan and jerk his hips. He would let this happen but he’d keep his word, too… His thoughts stammered to a halt as Schuldig stopped stroking him and withdrew his hand.
Fafarello growled loudly, all annoyance, and pressed himself back against the telepath. “Don’t test me,” he warned.
“I thought you wanted to get naked and fuck me in the spring,” Schuldig returned, smiling lightly as he caught the Irishman’s head gently between his hands. He looked into Farfarello’s eye. “Let’s do it.” His tone was as lustful as his gaze.
He released Farfarello and immediately began to undress him. The Irishman had no objections. This was what he’d wanted, after all… Was that it? Had Schuldig read his mind, seen what he’d wanted and was now going about giving it to him? Was Schuldig making up for having put him off for so long?
Farfarello drew himself up sharply. He must be sleep-deprived or suffering some kind of weird backlash from the drugs Crawford loved to pump into him. Schuldig did things because he wanted to do them, not because someone else wanted him to do them. Schuldig didn’t “make up” for anything he did, or didn’t do. To try and pretend otherwise was ridiculous, and totally delusional on his part, so Farfarello simply accepted his good fortune and stopped trying to rationalize it.
Schuldig had already unbuttoned the Irishman’s vest and was pushing it down his arms. Farfarello shook it free before turning his attention to Schuldig’s clothing. It took less than a minute for them to get each other naked and another couple of minutes to remove Farfarello’s bandaging before they slid into the spring.
The water was about waist deep and, now they were in the onsen, the smell was stronger. But Farfarello wasn’t going to allow himself to be distracted by trivialities. He heard Schuldig suck in breath loudly.
“Ow! Hot, hot!” the German hissed.
While Schuldig was momentarily distracted, Farfarello tackled him from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around him and pressing up against him.
“Feels perfect to me,” he said into the German’s ear before lowering his head and biting him on the shoulder.
He hadn’t failed to notice that the bite mark he’d put on Schuldig’s throat the first time they’d fucked was fading to nothingness. He would have liked to mark the German more permanently. A bit of creative knifework on that pale skin would work wonders, and he was skilled enough to ensure the scars would be permanent. But he suspected Schuldig preferred to remain unmarked and would veto any move to scarify his precious, Teutonic flesh. Such a shame, really.
Although Farfarello seriously doubted he’d be able to talk Schuldig around to his point of view he decided it was a topic worthy of further discussion. Perhaps on a slow and lazy afternoon when there was nothing else to occupy his mind or time. Who knew? Maybe he’d be surprised and Schuldig would be agreeable. Just thinking about the possibility of being able to touch a blade to the German’s flesh almost made Farfarello come there and then.
He turned his head slightly so he could press kisses to the junction of Schuldig’s neck and shoulder. At the same time, he tried to ease his aching cock by pressing up hard along the telepath’s back.
Schuldig made a low sound in his throat and arched his back a little, pushing his ass back against Farfarello. The Irishman growled and slid his hands down skin made slippery by the water. He grasped Schuldig by the hips and held him still as he rubbed his cock between the cheeks of the telepath’s ass.
Again, Schuldig made little sounds of approval then suddenly slipped out of Farfarello’s grasp. He turned and backed away slowly, arms outstretched for balance, lowering himself until the water was up over his chin. His hair floated around him like a living entity. Still moving away from Farfarello, he taunted him with a seductive smile.
“Well spirit,” Farfarello whispered before he’d even realized what he was thinking.
His words seemed to catch Schuldig off-guard, because the telepath stopped moving and gave him a querulous look.
“Well spirit?” he echoed.
“You could be,” Farfarello replied, then after a moment or two, he added, “except you’re German.”
Schuldig gave a laugh and began to move away again, still taunting Farfarello with his slow movements and his smile.
“And this isn’t a well,” he pointed out.
“It’s a hot spring – they count,” Farfarello replied before going after Schuldig.
The German made cursory attempts to evade him, managing to slip his grasp a couple of times but ultimately proving easy to catch. That suited Farfarello. He was still hard; still aching for the relief only Schuldig could provide. He just wished he was sure how to go about claiming what the telepath was clearly offering him.
Right now, they were holding each other close and tight, bruising each other with fingers and lips. This was solid ground for Farfarello but he was already trying to figure out the next moves in this game. Last time, Schuldig had been the one in control, but this time Farfarello wanted that role for himself. He just wasn’t completely sure how to go about it. He felt himself being urged backwards and resisted. He was in charge here, and Schuldig wasn’t allowed to change his mind.
Relax. The word flowed sensuously through his head. A hot tongue ran along the edge of his ear followed by warm breath as Schuldig whispered. “I’m just helping you out.”
Farfarello was sure that melting feeling spreading out from his gut had nothing to do with the heat of the water. He allowed himself to be moved.
The backs of his legs came up against rock and he was urged downwards until he was sitting on an underwater ledge. He grasped hold of Schuldig’s waist, looking up at the German who was smiling lazily at him. Farfarello had no doubt at all that those humans who allowed themselves to be embraced by well spirits saw something very akin to this before being taken.
Stop thinking about fairy tales and think about me. Schuldig’s tone scolded but he was still smiling that lazy, sensual smile Farfarello felt all the way down to his toes.
He reached up and grabbed hold of red hair, using it to pull Schuldig into another hard kiss. As their lips met, he felt a hand close firmly around his erection. He gave a surprised moan, and Schuldig laughed without breaking the kiss. Then he began to slide his hand up and down the Irishman’s hardened length. Farfarello’s heartbeat quickened and his breathing deepened. He wanted Schuldig sitting in his lap, impaled on his cock, head back, panting hard and begging for more.
Oh, Schuldig drawled slowly, I’d like that, too. But I’m not an actor. You want those reactions from me, you have to earn them.
The words sliding through his mind were accompanied by vivid images of Schuldig in the exact position Farfarello wanted him, and the feel of a firm, sure hand sliding up and down his cock. Farfarello was torn between hurrying his release and clamping down on it.
And here I am, barely stirring, Schuldig mourned theatrically.
Farfarello slipped one hand from the German’s hair, sliding it down the lithe body until it disappeared beneath the water. Curling his fingers around Schuldig’s cock, he discovered the telepath hadn’t been entirely truthful. He was at least partly aroused. All the better, Farfarello thought, as he set about bringing his companion to full hardness.
Within minutes, Schuldig had lowered himself onto Farfarello’s knees. Whether he was no longer able to stand under his own volition, or whether he was simply tired of his stance, who cared? He was closer to where Farfarello wanted him and that was all to the good.
Also good was Schuldig’s outstretched arm, resting on Farfarello’s shoulder, supporting the hard-breathing German as he stroked and was stroked. Farfarello reached up with his free hand and drew Schuldig’s head to him so they could share another kiss, this one gentler than those previously shared, but no less lustful.
Taking up his precarious perch on Farfarello’s knees had lowered Schuldig enough that the ends of his hair were once more floating on the water. Now and again, movement brought the hair into contact with Farfarello. The touch was nothing more than a tantalizingly brief and feather light brush over his naked skin, but it was driving the Irishman closer to the edge of sensory overload.
He was already holding off being steamrolled by the effects of their kissing and stroking, the feel of the German’s heated flesh where their bodies were in contact and by his own increasing tension and desire. He didn’t want anything else adding to his pleasure because he didn’t want this to be over so soon. He’d waited too damned long for that.
Personally, he blamed the heat of the water. It had over-sensitized his skin, making him susceptible to even the barest of touches. He was beginning to think the hot spring hadn’t been such a hot idea.
Right then was when Schuldig caught Farfarello’s earlobe between his teeth and teased at it around the earrings. The feel of teeth on his skin caused Farfarello to arch up into Schuldig’s hand, pushing himself beyond his own restraint. The thought that this was happening too soon was swept away by blinding bliss
“Bastard,” he panted moments later as he regained his breath.
“Bastard?” the German echoed, managing to sound incredulous. “And here I’d always thought the whole point of jerking someone off was to, you know,” he leaned closer, whispering loudly into Farfarello’s ear, “jerk them off.”
Loosening the vice-like grip he’d taken on Schuldig’s shoulders sometime during orgasm, Farfarello straightened and looked up at him. “I’m still going to fuck you,” he promised.
Schuldig grinned wickedly. “I’m counting on it,” he replied, giving the Irishman’s sensitive cock a firm stroke.
Farfarello’s grip on the German’s bony shoulders tightened again as his head went back a little and he closed his eye, drawing in a hissing breath. Before he’d had a chance to recover, there were fingers on his chest, toying with a nipple, and teeth catching and nipping his bottom lip. Schuldig continued this delicious teasing for a few moments more before releasing Farfarello’s lip.
“Rise, Lazarus,” he cooed, continuing to stroke his team mate’s cock and fondle his chest.
The Irishman gave a small, hard laugh. “You do push your fucking luck, Kraut,” he muttered.
“Did I mention your arch enemy?” the telepath asked innocently.
Before Farfarello had time to say anything, Schuldig slid fully into his lap, his arms going around the Irishman’s neck. He brought their lips together in a hard kiss. Farfarello moved his arms to embrace Schuldig. He was aware of the German’s erection pressing against his stomach, and he was equally aware of the effect that being trapped between two bodies was having on his own cock.
He began to move his hands slowly, teasingly over the telepath’s back, causing the other man to arch and press harder against him. Schuldig’s muffled moan brought a responding smile from Farfarello. His hands slid down lazily to caress Schuldig’s upper thighs and the cheeks of his ass before stroking his entrance. Schuldig reflexively clenched against the intrusion when he inserted a finger. Farfarello stopped and waited the second or so it took for the German to relax before pressing in further.
All the while, he was focused on Schuldig’s reactions; gauging if he needed to slow down or speed things up. It seemed that so far he was doing this the right way. Schuldig was making the kinds of noises that indicated he was enjoying what was happening, and when he wasn’t kissing or biting Farfarello, he was panting for breath.
Farfarello withdrew his finger and inserted two. Schuldig sucked in breath and moved a little, creating some space between their bodies. Reaching a hand between them, he wrapped his long fingers around both their cocks and started to pump.
A soft, low “oh” escaped from Farfarello at the sensation. Who’d have ever thought that gentleness could be as pleasurable as brutality? He hadn’t; not until Schuldig had opened up this world to him. Now he wanted it on a frequent and ongoing basis – but only from Schuldig. Even if he could get this voluntarily from someone else, he wouldn’t want it.
Schuldig brought their lips together again, engaging him in a long, passionate kiss. When it ended, the German nipped along Farfarello’s jaw line before licking and biting his ears, all the while continuing his firm and steady stroking of their cocks.
His cock wasn’t the only thing that was firm. So was the Irishman’s resolve to fuck Schuldig. Soon he would make his move. But right now he was more than content to remain like this, letting Schuldig touch and kiss and bite, and feeling his pleasure intensify.
A few minutes later, Schuldig stopped his kissing and biting to speak into the Irishman’s ear.
“You know, it just occurred to me that if we invited Nagi along, he could float you while I sucked you off,” he murmured with quiet amusement.
“While that scenario appeals to me, I doubt it would appeal to the kid,” Farfarello replied. “Besides, I’m already sharing you more than I want to, let’s leave it at that, huh?”
He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but didn’t give a damn that he had. What the fuck did it matter if he said it aloud or not? Schuldig could find it in his head any time he wanted to look. And now the smug German was looking at him with mirth clearly evident in his blue eyes. Farfarello met that gaze unblinkingly.
“You sound jealous,” Schuldig taunted, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.
Farfarello knew that unless he backed down, made light of this, things could end here much more quickly than he wanted. But he’d be damned if he’d back down on this and pretend it was just light-hearted banter with no truth to it. If Schuldig got bitchy and brought their fuck session to an abrupt halt…
“Is that it?” Schuldig prodded, moving his face closer to Farfarello’s. “Are you jealous?”
In less time than it takes to blink, Farfarello caught Schuldig’s face between his hands, his intense, gold gaze boring into the other man. “You’re the fucking mind-reader here. So read my mind, telepath,” he challenged.
Schuldig met his gaze unflinchingly. Farfarello watched him closely and was certain he saw that blue gaze waver – if only for a fraction of a second – when Schuldig met the truth inside his head. All humor died in the telepath’s eyes and Farfarello couldn’t tell what expression replaced it.
Schuldig pulled his head free of Farfarello’s hands and let go his hold on their cocks. By the time their gazes met again, the German had pulled his smug expression back into place.
“You’ll get over it,” he said flippantly.
Farfarello could tell that, despite his glib reply, the telepath was less than comfortable with what he’d encountered in the Irishman’s head.
“Supposing I don’t?” Farfarello pressed.
“You will.”
“With some help from you, eh?”
“My help won’t be needed. It’s the natural progression of such things,” Schuldig replied acerbically.
“You’re a cynical bastard,” Farfarello declared, emotion strengthening his native accent.
“And your head’s full of whimsical follies tonight,” Schuldig shot back. “Besides, you’re wrong. I’m a realist. What you’re thinking about is another fairy tale, like your well spirits. I don’t believe in either. What I believe in is this.” Suddenly his lips were on Farfarello’s delivering a hard, punishing kiss. At the same time, he reached beneath the water, delivering a firm stroke that reawakened the interest of the Irishman’s softening cock.
Deciding conversation was over-rated, Farfarello slipped his arms around the German and drew him even closer. Then, taking his cue from Schuldig’s previous actions, he kissed his way along the telepath’s jawline, earning himself silent encouragement.
Schuldig’s talented hands and mouth were busy as well, heightening Farfarello’s pleasure and edging him towards another climax. The kissing and biting from both of them was becoming more heated and hurried and Farfarello was having a hard time remembering he’d actually had plans for how this would all play out. Now the German wrapped his long fingers around Farfarello’s cock. This touch alone was enough to make the Irishman rock hard, and when he began to slide his hand along that length in controlled strokes, Farfarello felt pure pleasure sear his nerves.
He couldn’t wait any longer but his brain was incapable of forming a rational thought in order to get Schuldig in the position he wanted. Instead, he pushed to his feet, bringing Schuldig with him. As the German got his balance, Farfarello held him close, kissing him hard and rubbing up against him, desperate for the friction of the other man’s body.
Even as he ended the kiss, he was turning Schuldig away from him and up against the wall of the spring. The German made a small sound as he came in contact with the rocky surface, but he didn’t pull away. Farfarello was right behind him, grasping his cock in his hand and guiding it to Schuldig’s entrance. He barely allowed the German time to know he was there before he was pushing into him.
The sound Schuldig made and the way he shuddered let Farfarello know that a gentler approach may have been a better option, but it was done now. And it felt better than anything had in too long a time. Farfarello let out a slow, stuttering breath. With his chest against Schuldig’s back, he could feel the rapid way the German was breathing and guessed maybe he wasn’t enjoying this quite as much just yet.
Farfarello slipped his arms around the other man, and for a long moment they were still. Then Schuldig pressed back against Farfarello.
“Move…Oh. Move,” he ordered on a breathless moan as he rocked his hips rhythmically back and forwards.
The Irishman growled low in his throat and tightened his hold. This was pure bliss and he wanted time to be able to indulge in it. The sensations flooding him were set to overpower him if he didn’t just take a moment or two to slow down. But with Schuldig forcing himself back on Farfarello’s cock in his attempt to heighten his own pleasure, it was a losing battle.
So Farfarello did the only thing he could – he pressed forward pinning Schuldig between himself and the wall and preventing him from moving. The German made a pained sound and tensed up.
“Fuck! Ease up,” he ordered. “Maybe having your dick rubbed on sandpaper is a turn-on for you, but it’s not for me.”
“It’s not sandpaper,” Farfarello pointed out.
“The way it feels it might as well be,” Schuldig shot back.
Farfarello grasped the other man’s bony hips in his hands and drew back carefully to give the whiny German’s super-sensitive cock some room.
“Better, princess?” he enquired, feigning sympathy.
“Saying ‘fuck you’ seems rather redundant at the moment,” Schuldig sniped back.
“Not to mention technically incorrect,” Farfarello advised. He tightened his grip on the German’s hips and made the first, slow thrusts.
Schuldig tossed his head back, almost colliding with Farfarello’s, but the Irishman managed to dodge in time. He turned his head and sought out the German’s mouth, exchanging another passionate kiss.
You’re a fast learner. The compliment slid through Farfarello’s mind like mercury, seeming to stroke every pleasure sensor on the way. The Irishman’s knees wanted to fold, but he didn’t want to give up Schuldig’s lips, so somehow he managed to remain standing.
Heaven, he decided, did exist and the man who reigned there had flaming red hair, talented hands and a wicked mouth.
When the kiss ended, Farfarello let one hand slide away from the German’s hip to his cock. Schuldig’s back arched and he made another wordless sound as the Irishman’s calloused fingers closed around him. Farfarello pressed kisses along the telepath’s shoulder and up his throat, ignoring the wet hair plastered in places to the pale skin. He didn’t care about anything except how his lips felt on the heated flesh of his team mate and how his cock felt inside that heat.
Farfarello was so caught up in the sensations boiling through him he hardly noticed when his thrusting became so hard and fast that Schuldig had to brace himself against the wall. So caught up in marveling at how well his body and the German’s fit together, Farfarello failed to realize that he again had both hands on Schuldig’s hips.
All his focus was on the fire in his blood, the electricity sparking along his nerves and the uncoiling tension deep within him. Release was closing in on him fast and as much as he wanted to stall it so he could continue to enjoy the pleasure of Schuldig’s body, it felt too good to…
“Stop.”
He was certain that couldn’t be what Schuldig just said. He’d misheard. He must have. After all, the German was panting so hard he was difficult to understand. Farfarello stole a glance and saw the telepath’s eyes were open. Then Schuldig frowned, his eyes closed again and he was moving his hips and breathing hard; whatever had distracted him forgotten.
Farfarello needed no further prompting to pick up the slackening pace. He firmed his grip on Schuldig’s hips and began to thrust hard and fast until Schuldig was, again, making the wordless sounds the Irishman had come to associate with pleasurable sex.
After a few minutes, Farfarello reached around and took hold of Schuldig’s cock, surprised that he didn’t have to move the German’s hand out of the way…
“Farf…”
The Irishman flicked a quick look at Schuldig and saw he had his eyes open again. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know these interruptions were coming from somewhere else, and they were distracting the German. Fuck this, he thought, nothing is so important that it can’t wait until we’re done here. Determined to return Schuldig’s focus to what was important, he began to move his hand in a way designed to make the other man forget everything except what was happening in the hot spring.
Schuldig groaned lowly and his eyes fluttered shut. Good, Farfarello thought, his whole attention now on fucking and nothing else. He was determined that if Schuldig said anything else, he would ignore him – at least until they was done.
For a while, it seemed he’d won out over whatever distractions were trying to woo Schuldig’s attentions from him. For a while, he forgot any such distractions existed. For a while, there was nothing but each other and lips and tongues and teeth, biting and kissing and touching, skin and stroking and escalating sensations.
Farfarello reveled in the feelings rolling through him. He was close to release now and he knew that Schuldig was in a similar state. He wondered if he could pace things so they’d come together.
I can make you come first, Schuldig taunted, wicked amusement in the silky voice sliding through Farfarello’s mind. The telepath clenched the muscles surrounding Farfarello’s cock to emphasize his point.
Farfarello gave a low groan before finding his voice. “Together,” he insisted breathlessly.
Schuldig’s laugh cut off abruptly. Farfarello didn’t want to look, but couldn’t stop himself. Schuldig’s eyes were open again, and his gaze moved in a way that suggested he was trying to focus on something that kept eluding him.
“Stop.” It was spoken clearly enough this time, despite the German’s breathlessness. “Wait. Stop.”
As he spoke, his hand curled loosely around Farfarello’s wrist. There was nothing forceful in the hold and though Farfarello expected that grip to tighten in order to enforce the command to stop, that didn’t happen. The grip remained little more than a touch.
Farfarello ignored the words and the ineffectual grip on his wrist. He pressed his mouth to Schuldig’s throat, nipping and kissing as he continued to edge them to the brink of release. He wasn’t going to stop now. It was too late; he was too close. Besides, Schuldig was a fucking telepath. If he wanted this to stop, he could make it stop.
But it seemed that forcing anything right now was beyond the telepath. He was silent, except for his harsh breathing, but a peek told Farfarello he still had his eyes open and his gaze was still moving in a way to suggest he was listening to something only he could hear.
Farfarello forged ahead, thrusting and stroking in a bid to reach completion before Schuldig came to his senses enough to actually stop all activities. He could hear the telepath muttering in German, the only words of which he understood being ‘Wo sind Sie?’ Where are you? Whoever he was talking to would have to wait, Farfarello thought as release built almost to breaking point within him.
Schuldig froze, groaning through gritted teeth as Farfarello delivered the final, firm strokes required to bring him to climax. His release triggered the Irishman’s. Farfarello pressed his open mouth against Schuldig’s shoulder, biting down as release rolled through him. He felt the telepath’s body buck in a brief spasm then knew nothing but the blinding bliss of orgasm.
When he was finally able to focus on something other than the glorious sensations that had assailed his body, he became aware of Schuldig’s warm, lithe body still resting against his, and the German’s low, insistent muttering.
“Wo sind Sie?”
That question again.
After long moments, Farfarello took a slow, deep breath and withdrew from the other man’s body, still savoring the contentment suffusing him. He felt Schuldig raise his head, felt the sensuous slide of flame-colored hair across his skin, felt the German’s heavy sigh.
“Fick!”
Farfarello guessed from the angry way the word was spoken that Schuldig wasn’t commenting on how good the sex had been. The fact the telepath had lapsed into his native tongue meant he was distracted and extremely angry. Exactly why, Farfarello had no idea. He was, however, offended by the German’s demeanor.
In his book, it had been a great fuck, and Schuldig ought to be turning to him and expressing his thanks by way of words, kisses and caresses, not standing there with his back still to Farfarello, muttering angrily in his guttural native language.
Deciding to take the lead, Farfarello slid his arms around the German, hugging him tightly while he deposited kisses along the other man’s shoulder and up his throat. Schuldig seemed hardly mollified. Instead he frowned, still muttering under his breath. He, in fact, seemed completely unaware of Farfarello.
“Who are you talking to?” the Irishman asked after a moment or two.
“Was?” Schuldig turned an irritated frown on his companion.
“Who are you talking to?” Farfarello repeated.
Schuldig said nothing. He just gave his head a shake and reached for Farfarello’s hands, removing them from around his chest. He turned at last, but not to kiss or hold the Irishman.
“Where are you going?” Farfarello asked, also turning and watching as the telepath moved past him, heading for the other side of the spring.
If Schuldig heard him, he didn’t bother to answer. Farfarello growled lowly and headed after him. This was no way to end such a good time, he thought as he sloshed after his infuriating team mate.
By the time he reached the other side of the spring, Schuldig was already out, wiping himself down quickly with his shirt. Farfarello pushed himself up and out of the water and onto the grass verge. He stalked over to the German.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded.
Schuldig stopped drying himself and straightened, looking the Irishman in the eye. “For future reference,” he began in a low, dangerous tone, “I don’t give a flying fuck how close you are to coming. When I say stop, I mean stop.”
Farfarello’s world tilted then went black.
By the time he came to, Schuldig was well and truly gone.
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Dragon Cycle