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Mind Games and Coffee	By : Solaras Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 5491 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is not mine. All its characters and affiliates are also
not mine. Nothing involving Weiss Kreuz
is mine. Sadly this is true.

Author’s Notes: Sorry
about the delay. I had wanted to get
this chapter out before I went on vacation, but time got away from me. My classes started this week, so I have been
running around like a maniac for that too.
I’m in college and I also work, so my schedule is going to be hectic
from now till winter break, but I am going to try and still update as soon as
possible. I have started the next
chapter, and I hope that I can get that out before my work load piles up. I’ve only been in class three days and have
been assigned two papers and a poem (creative writing class). Thankfully the papers are short. One is due Monday, but if I get it done then
I will work on the next chapter and update soon…I hope.

Review Responses:

Schuldig – Those
two are hard to keep in character. I’ve
only seen the anime and there isn’t much to work with in regards to their
personal life. Feel free to tell me if I
do slaughter the German language at any point, and thanks for the offer of
help; I may take you up on that sometime. ^_^

Pandora – Thanks
a bunch. Glad you liked Farfarello’s
scene. I like him too, so he has to get
so play time.

Nozomi
– I know Takatori and Schuldig is GROSS, but the stupid plot bunny wouldn’t
leave me alone ^_^

~telepathy~ aka communicating

/thoughts/ aka
Schuldig reading someone’s mind

German words:

Verdammt – Damnit

Geh zum Teufel – Go to hell

Chapter five:

It was late
when Brad emerged from his study. He had
finally finished typing and submitting the necessary files to Estet, thus he
deserved a midnight snack, or in his
case a two in the morning snack. He sat
at the kitchen table, staring listlessly at the toaster, waiting for his bagel
to pop up. Toasters always seemed to
take forever. The timer could be set on
light or very dark and still seem to take the same amount of time. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Brad
had his bagel smothered with a generous amount of cream cheese.

Having
intended to retire for the evening after his snack, Brad only bothered to cut
on the light over the sink, hence the kitchen was cast in a soft half
light. The rest of the apartment was
quiet. The noise of the street had died
down long ago with the proper businessmen tucked in their beds and the drunks
passed out in alleyways. Farfarello was
locked in his room, though he could extract himself if he truly wished, but it
was a comforting farce of security.
Around midnight Brad, on route
to the coffee pot, had found the T.V. on with Nagi asleep in front of it. Through protest the boy had been sent to
bed. Nagi had been waiting for Schuldig
to come home. He, not having Brad’s safety
in knowing the future, worried about the flighty redhead.

After
returning home from seeing to Takatori, Schuldig had promptly gone back
out. Brad didn’t need his clairvoyance
to know that Schuldig would be at a club.
The telepath would drown in the drunken thoughts of others, and for a
moment, he would forget about Takatori and Estet. If Schuldig came home tonight it would
probably be soon. Brad could feel the
visions running through his subconscious creeping around his conscious mind, a
numb fuzzy feeling, like one two many drinks.
Flashes of orange hair and blue eyes, Schuldig, filtered into his
view. He clamped down on the feeling,
not wanting to see anything. His head already hurt from staring to long at
a computer screen. Visions where someone
died where always tainted a strange sort of reddish purple color, thus he knew
the German would be alright, and he didn’t need to check his visions. Subconsciously he saw them all, and in sleep
he did not dream, but saw random visions.
If it was something important about tomorrow, Brad would see it again.

Half way
into the bagel, Schuldig came staggering through the front door, smelling of
cheap liquor, smoke, and even cheaper perfume.
The German was more than a little drunk.
He made his way to the kitchen, and found the clairvoyant where the
buffer of mental shields marked his presence.
Brad couldn’t help his wandering eyes, as Schuldig leaned against the
counter next to him. The telepaths black
leather pants hung low on the hips, and left nothing to the imagination. The tight emerald green shirt stopped at the
midriff exposing a section of smooth pale skin.
The redhead was all sex and sin, and his blue eyes glinted mischievously
in the partial light.

“I take it
you enjoyed yourself,” Brad said blandly returning his attention to his snack.

“More than
you,” replied a smirking Schuldig. His
own eyes raked over the man before him.

“Who did
you whore yourself to this time?”

“Jealous
Brad,” Schuldig whispered in the American’s ear.

Crawford
turned his head, surprised, he hadn’t noticed the other man moving. Schuldig liked to use his unnatural speed to
gain the upper hand and startle the precog as often as possible. Crawford was now face to face with the
smirking German. Schuldig’s deep ocean
eyes stared relentlessly into Brad’s honey brown ones. The redhead’s warm breath coasted over the
precog’s face, fogging his glasses.

“Jealous of
what, a German slut, not likely,” Brad said turning away from the mischievous
smirk.

He took off his steamed glasses and
reached for a napkin, intent on wiping them off. A brief rush of air was all the warning he
got of Schuldig’s, faster than the human eye, movements. He dropped both items on the table as leather
clad legs wrapped around his waist. The
redhead had swiftly planted himself firmly in Crawford’s lap, and then
proceeded in pressing down in just the right places. Long pale arms wrapped around his neck and
brought the telepath’s face close enough for Crawford to make out clearly. Schuldig’s smirk widened at the wide brown
eyes in front of him; he would not be ignored.

“Oh, I think you are,” Schuldig
said huskily.

“What do you think you are doing,”
snapped a flustered Crawford.

“I’m chipping away at the ice,” the
telepath snickered.

“Get off me. You’re drunk.”

“True,” breathed Schuldig against
the pale skin of Crawford’s throat, “but if I was sober I wouldn’t be so crass
or mmm horny.”

“You are always ‘crass’ and you
think of nothing but sex,” snapped Crawford as he tried to shift away from the
clingy redhead. Schuldig only held on
tighter and dipped his head to run his tongue along the column of Brad’s neck.

“Not with you,” stated the
inebriated German as he continued to assault the expanse of skin before
him.

“What?!” yelped Brad as Schuldig
nipped his earlobe.

“You are always so cold to me, so I
don’t waste my time.”

“Why stop now, I’m sure you could
have found entertainment a plenty at whatever brothel you went to.”

“So harsh, but I don’t think that’s
what you really want Brad.” The name was
more a moan than a word.

“I said get off…” Crawford choked
and had to bite back his own moan as Schuldig rocked his hips.

Brad gripped the edge of the table,
while Schuldig continued to move against him.
How could he have not foreseen this?!
Damn unpredictable German. The
redhead pressed his weight knowingly down on the American’s groin. The layers of fabric between them only added
to the delicious friction. Schuldig
brought his hands up to burry them in silky black hair, and he rested his
forehead against the pinned man’s.

“You can’t tell me you don’t want
me,” breathed Schuldig, “I can feel
the proof that you do.”

Brad couldn’t control his
traitorous body’s reaction, and his mind wouldn’t think rationally with a lap
full of writhing German. Schuldig thrust
hard against him causing the chair scrape back against the floor. Brad lost his grip on the table and
instinctively latched on to Schuldig’s hips.
His hands glided across the smooth leather to cup a firm ass. The redhead moaned and Crawford pulled him
down hard. While Schuldig gasped, Brad
grabbed a fistful of red hair and crushed their lips together. His tongue immediately invaded the surprised
German’s mouth. Schuldig wasn’t sure
when he had lost control of the game, but didn’t complain as he fought for
dominance.

Schuldig
was just as skilled as Crawford thought he would be. The redhead’s tongue rubbed provokingly
against his own, as Brad continued to rape the warm sweet mouth. The German tasted of vodka and limes, but
beyond that was something spicy the precog didn’t care at the time to identify. Hands were running down his back and into his
pants pulling his dress shirt loose. His
own hand caressed up the redhead’s back, which instantly arched, and back down
to rest on the front of tight leather pants.
Schuldig moaned into the heated kiss as he was massaged through the
restrictive material. Crawford wanted to
rip those damned pants off, so that he could mimic with other parts, the
rapture his tongue was already in.
Schuldig was warm, soft, and oh so inviting.

So
enraptured was he in the present, Crawford’s mind relaxed its hold on visions
of the future. Takatori, Estet,
Weiss…swimming, falling…swirling in sickly purple. Somebody was dieing, somebody was screaming…
Takatori reaching for red hair; he’s dead, he’s alive. A girl… Aya… Ran… the floor will break. And the image taints the horrible color of
bruised flesh. In an instant Crawford
had foreseen visions from a hundred possible futures. In an instant Crawford remembered what he had
to do.

Schuldig was in heaven. Crawford was hard against him and blessedly
silent. Being this close to the
clairvoyant and his impenetrable shields dampened the voices. He was free to focus on the blissful feel of
strong hands on him. Just as the
telepath surrendered to the fierce exploration of his mouth, he found himself
falling hard to the floor! Crawford had
stood quickly, dislodging the dazed redhead.
He stood straightening his clothes and retrieving his glasses, while Schuldig
rubbed his abused behind and glared from the floor.

“Verdammt! What did you do that for!” yelled Schuldig.

“I told you to get off me, didn’t
I,” said Crawford calmly, appearing once again in control. “Go whore yourself elsewhere Schuldig, I have
work to do.” With that the clairvoyant
turned his back on the sputtering German and left the room.

“Geh zum Teufel!” Schuldig screamed
after Crawford. “Bastard.”

The redhead picked himself off the
floor and brushed off his pants, which were now uncomfortably tight. He glared viciously at the spot his denied
conquest had stood. He couldn’t quite
grasp what had happened. Never before
had he wished so hard for a glimpse into the American’s mind. Brad had clearly been enthusiastic one
moment, and then he went back to being a cold bastard. Schuldig sighed and seated himself in
Crawford’s abandoned chair. He looked at
the forgotten bagel and smirked.

“You never said you didn’t want
me,” Schuldig laughed to himself.

He finished off the bagel and went
to his room. He smelled like a keg party,
but a shower could wait till tomorrow.
He was tired, unsatisfied, but tired.
A good night’s sleep would help in his planning to make Crawford
crumble. Perhaps a different approach
was necessary. Leaving his bedroom door
open, Schuldig changed into a pair of boxers and fell into bed.

Across the hall Brad was occupied
with a very cold shower. He spent the
time cursing his own lack of sight, redheaded Germans, and the urge to finish
himself what Schuldig started. He didn’t
need this. He was planning the downfall
of Estet, who would kill them if he screwed up.
He had to stay focused. All that
mattered was his freedom from Estet. But
then why couldn’t he stop thinking of the redhead. Even under the freezing spray of the shower,
his cock twitched at the thought of Schuldig writhing in his lap. The memory of those leather incased thighs
pressed against his sides, while the telepath’s cock rubbed against his own,
was driving him mad. For the first time
since he was sixteen, Crawford considered jerking off in the shower.

Slamming his fist against the tiled
wall, Brad turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He put on a pair of pajama pants and roughly
toweled his hair. He sent burning glares
towards his closed door, across from which was the object of his anger and
frustration. He paced in front of his
bed, glaring at the door. From beyond
the obstruction of wood, he could hear the creak of bed springs and broken
sentences in some guttural language he didn’t recognize.

Brad Crawford stopped his pacing
and glaring with a sigh. He walked over
and leaned his head against the doorframe.
He still couldn’t name the language, but he knew that Schuldig was
having a restless sleep. He opened the
door quietly. Almost immediately, the
sleeping telepath across the hall stopped thrashing about and settled into a
deeper sleep. Without his glasses Brad
couldn’t make out the telepath clearly, but he could tell that the other man
now slept peacefully, as he always did with Brad across the hall.

End Chapter five

Thanks for stopping by and I hope you will return. As always reviews are welcome and
appreciated.

Solaras
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Mind Games and Coffee