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The Dance	By : jeisvenka Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3654 -:- 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
Free Dance
A/n: Beware, this chapter contains massive smut and OOC-ness.
--
Farfarello climbed out the escape hatch with painstaking precision, his burden making it difficult to react to careless slips and falls as he usually would.
The night air curled across his face, cooling off the beads of sweat that had begun to gather underneath his mask. He pushed the hatch back into place, locking it behind him, and finally sat back to relax, safely hidden behind a thick layer of scrub and trees. The sounds of the party seemed to come from miles away.
The orange and white bundle moved slightly, and he was called once again to the task at hand. Using a small penknife, he cut a neat slit into the stretchy fabric, which separated like butter to allow him better access to the bullet wound, and slowly got to work.
While he was working , he took a moment to mull over the events of the night.
After Crawford had coaxed him from his room, Schwarz had made a bee-line to a costume shop. The shop attendant seemed to already know exactly what style of costume they had in mind, and lead them into a back room, where rows upon rows of stretchy animal costumes and expensive porcelain masks stood out from the wall.
Crawford chose the least revealing (but still attractive) costume. Schuldig chose the most revealing (and also extremely attractive) costume. Nagi chose a cat costume, at which Schuldig chuckled slightly. Nagi had glared, of course, but his fetishes were no secret. And Farfarello... he chose the only one that didn't make him slightly nauseous. A white wolf costume, complete with a bushy white tail. The mask was what really drew him in, its eyes giving only a hint of an amused expression, unlike the other jeering or scowling masks scattered around the room.
They'd paid and headed off to the job site. Crawford, Nagi, and Schuldig would go protect their employer from his room. Farfarello would stay in the car. Everyone had frowned slightly behind their mask at this piece of news, but otherwise said nothing.
And so, Farfarello had sat. And sat. And sat. It became dark, and still he sat, fidgeting only slightly with the controls on the car, his tail, his knives… anything to keep his mind off the passage of time.
Until, finally, he could sit no longer. He decided to go for a walk, heading for the tall, unmanicured trees on the far side of the house. It was strange that this piece of land was unkempt, as the rest of the mansion's lot was in ridiculously good shape, but he soon figured out its purpose. In the very center of the trees, a small circular hatch was placed. An escape hatch. But from where?
His curiosity got the better of him, and besides, if Crawford needed to get in touch with him, he could use telepathy.
Farfarello broke the lock and made his way down the hatch, deep into the bowels of the earth, until he could smell the old familiar stench of blood. It made the insects gnaw cheerfully against his chest, and his grin grew wide behind his passive mask.
The room he finally broke into was amazingly large, for how deep underground it sat. The weight of the soil itself should've destroyed the place, but Farf didn't have time to speculate for long. A gunshot pierced the air from across the room. In his bright white costume, he couldn't really hide, although he didn't care much for hiding in the first place. Instead, he headed off to check where the shot came from, and from behind some sort of torture mechanism, he saw a short panda tying up a bleeding fox.
Farfarello cocked his head to the side, watching.
The fox's hands were tied with leather straps to a huge bloody cross. He remembered the cross from somewhere, possibly one of Schuldig's magazines, and found it delightfully appropriate. Then, the panda started to remove his own clothes, which the white wolf ignored, keeping his eyes trained on the dying fox. The creature was completely silent and still. Resigned to its death.
It made the wolf's heart race, and apparently the panda's, as well, for he seemed unable to keep his paws off the meat set in front of him, dragging his claws up along the poor creature's side.
The fox jerked slightly, and Farfarello's heart stopped inside his chest. That was… one of Yohji's tender spots… Was that a common place for people to be sensitive…?
And then, as if they'd never left, the wings slammed against his ribs, crushing the insects with their intensity, and Farfarello was moving, faster than he'd ever moved in his life. His knife twisted into the panda's spine so hard that it lifted the creature clear off its feet, killing the thing instantly. The fox looked up, and Farfarello could feel him behind the mask. Could smell the hint of smoke on his blood. Knew him to be Yohji.
The wings beat loudly as he freed the fox. His fox. Yes. His.
"Mine," he growled gutturally, his heart pulsing in rhythm to the wings as he buried his face against his lover. "Mine."
And then, his fox, his Yohji, had lost consciousness.
Farfarello cut another strip out of his own costume, winding it around Yohji's bullet wound. He'd pulled out the bullet and licked the wound clean a moment ago, his mask sitting innocently enough beside them, watching him work, the corners of its eyes twisted upwards in amusement.
Farf flicked the knife, and it disappeared into some hidden place in his skin-tight costume. Then, donning his mask and climbing to his feet, he carried the unconscious fox to the nearest car, hot-wired it, and drove off.
--
Ken scowled, darting around yet another corner in search of Schuldig. Or the target. Or anyone. Where the hell had everyone gone?!
The party was going on full-swing downstairs, the guests blissfully unaware of the battle raging above. Or the battle that had been raging above. After Schuldig had disappeared into darkness, Ken had searched the corners and found no possible way out, other than the door they'd entered from. There had to be escape hatches… hidden doors… but none of them were forthcoming of their locations.
Finally, giving up, Ken had shot off in the direction Omi and Nagi had disappeared in earlier. No luck there, either. And Yohji? Yohji had disappeared into the darkness behind Crawford a long time ago.
And why the fuck was nobody answering his earpiece?! He retracted his claws and cursed loudly, causing a couple hidden in a nearby corner to squeak loudly with surprise.
He made two rounds around the entire mansion, angering numerous couples and interrupting a few acts he wished he could forget, before he finally wandered out to the car.
…Only to find that the car was missing.
Shit.
Had they left without him?! He swore up and down, marching back into the party to find a phone. Maybe he could get in touch with Aya…
--
"Ignore it," a low voice purred, his hand closing around the other man's before the phone even began to vibrate.
The redhead squirmed, trying to get to his phone on the bedside table, but gave up shortly afterward as his partner's mouth closed over the sensitive spot on his collarbone.
"It's probably-"
"Ken. He'll manage," Crawford murmured, enjoying the man wriggling underneath him.
Aya made a low "tch" noise, but mentally agreed. If Brad said it, it was probably true. Unless he was lying. Which was also probable.
Something hard jabbed into Aya's back, and he fought one hand loose from Brad's iron grip to pull it out. One of those damned stuffed animals. It was creepy, how they were all watching him.
"Can't we go somewhere else?" Aya ground out in disgust, his voice surprisingly even, tossing the creature across the room, where it bounced off the TV monitor.
"We'll be seen," Crawford said, grinning, as though nothing would please him more. He and his lover had spent the last twenty minutes locked in a small closet, Aya trying not to make noise as Ken ran to and from the room, Crawford doing the most frustrating things from where he was pressed against him from behind.
"Un," Aya grunted, pulling Brad's face up, away from his sensitive spot, and holding their faces only inches apart. "You aren't lying to me, are you?"
Crawford's grin widened, "Would it matter if I were?"
No, Aya soon found out. It didn't.
Brad soon had him whining softly, boring him down into the mattress like a true pro.
"What about- Ah! Omi…" Aya asked, breathing heavily as the man's fingers crawled around like spiders inside of him.
"Would you like to see?" Brad asked, purring again, his face seeming to hang silhouetted in the air, haloed by the screens. Aya paused in his answer, considering it, but the older man had already gotten the remote from its perch and was changing the channel.
--
Omi jerked sideways, his voice tearing from him as though it'd been slashed free with a knife. Something was crawling across his skin, underneath his clothes, and… oh gods…
The boy writhed on the ground in the middle of the room. Low red lights were spattered randomly across the walls of the hidden room, pointed at the ceiling, only illuminating certain parts of the otherwise barren space.
Omi, of course, was completely illuminated, his white cat costume glowing red, the glitter causing beads of red light to flicker across the walls like a disco ball.
And, ever so often, a bead of light would bounce back, reflecting from something glittering softly in the darkness. Something which, other than the glitter and the sparkling eyes, was otherwise black. Even the grinning cat mask was painted black.
Two black gloved hands were faced toward the writhing mass, twitching softly ever so often, which caused the mass to jump and squirm in front of them.
"Wh- why-" he tried, but interrupted himself as he cried out again, something splintering across his skin.
"Why?" a soft voice asked evenly from the darkness. The black cat rotated his thumb, and Omi felt himself being dragged into his side, then fully onto his stomach.
"W… wait…" Omi pleaded from behind his smiling mask, scratching the ground with his claws in an effort to get away, but his body was betraying him, and as Nagi slowly lifted his lower half off the ground, the tight white costume hid nothing from the other boy's dark, unblinking eyes.
The black cat walked forward, spots of red light sparkling against his outfit as moved, until he was on his knees behind the younger boy.
Omi bit his lip as he felt something warm through the fabric, pressing against his sack. The boy's telekinesis was bad enough, but this…
He mewled slightly as the white fabric was pulled off, and the warm flesh of Nagi's gloves crawled across his sides and down, down, the younger boy's chest pressed against him as he rubbed him from behind.
"It's not personal," Nagi said thickly, pulling off one of his black gloves, "I just have a thing for kitty boys…"
--
Schuldig chuckled, kicking one of "Master's" vintage cars into gear. He figured the man wouldn't miss it, and since Crawford had specifically said to leave the car in which they'd arrived, what other choice did he have?
Grinning to himself, he sped toward the city. Everyone else was having such a good time, why should he be left out? And he couldn't exactly go home just yet...
--
The orange and white figure stirred slightly, its full lips parting in a sort of sigh. Farfarello watched it from his perch across the room. Yohji lay sprawled ungracefully on the couch, which was the only place Farf could think to put him. His dark room, with its thick bars and automatically-locking door, didn't feel like the kind of place he should put this bright creature. At least, not this time.
Finally, those long lashes wavered, and two green orbs slowly made their way around the room, taking in the details, elegant brows knitting in confusion. A confusion which didn't soften as those eyes settled on Farfarello.
He loved it. Everything about it. Everything about him. The way he struggled to sit up, even though he was obviously lightheaded. The way he tried to act natural, even though he was sitting in uncharted territory, wearing nothing but a fox suit. The way he was injured. The way he hurt. He loved it.
The fox mask sat on the coffee table in the middle of the room, staring into oblivion, its eternally sly expression wasted on the room's other occupants. Farfarello still hid behind his mask, his single golden eye glaring out across the room. The wolf's other eye was a dark jewel, which winked in pleasure as Yohji crawled to his feet, looking lost amidst the clean organization of the Schwarz living room.
"Farf…?" he breathed so softly, it was only barely audible. The sound bore into Farfarello's chest, where the wings had finally started to take on a more natural feeling. Like they belonged.
Without a sound, as if he were afraid of frightening the wings away, Farfarello climbed off where he'd been sitting on the TV and stepped soundlessly toward his prey.
Yohji's brows knitted further, his muscles tightening in expectance of a fight, but his blood loss made his reactions slow and uncoordinated, and Farfarello found it all to easy to climb across the coffee table and push him back onto the couch, straddling the fox's narrow hips.
Spine curling, he brought their faces close, and Yohji's expression relaxed a bit into recognition as he caught sight of Farfarello's eye, although his muscles remained tense and his eyebrows were still knit tightly with confusion.
"Farfarello… what's going on? Where are we?" he said breathily, turning his face to the side to gaze around the room. Farfarello took the opportunity to run the mask's muzzle down the side of Yohji's face and bury it into the crook of his neck.
Yohji stiffened at the motion, eyes darting to the other man as recognition spread across his face. "The panda… shot me. I almost..." his voice caught briefly, "almost… but you…" At that last line, the confusion returned to the blond's pale face. Farfarello pushed the mask back gently, bringing his lips forward to rest a few millimeters from the fox's, enjoying the feel of the other man's warm breath twisting with his own. The wings fluttered inside his chest, across his stomach, and underneath his skin.
"Killed him," Farfarello murmured, although surprisingly enough, the words only caused a brief twitch from the insects before they were beaten back by the numerous feathers fluttering across his nervous system.
"Killed him," Yohji repeated quietly, breathing heavily against Farfarello's lips. The blond's hands slid across his partner's thighs, around the man's hips, and pulled them forward gently. Farfarello smiled, obligingly sliding their thinly-covered pelvises together, which drew a gasp from them both, although their lips remained untouching. "Killed him," he repeated again, and after a moment, almost soundlessly, "…for me?"
Farfarello grinned, grinding himself forward roughly, and felt Yohji's breath become ragged against his skin. He dragged his hands up across Yohji's chest, across the pale skin of his neck, up to frame the man's expectant face, running his clawed gloves gently along the twin cheekbones. Yohji lowered his head suddenly, chuckling to himself in embarrassment, but Farfarello forced his face back up again, running his tongue across the man's bottom lip. "Killed him," Farfarello murmured so softly, Yohji's breathing stopped as he strained to listen, "because you're mine." The last word came out in a hiss, and the blond's body trembled underneath him.
And then, like a shattered floodgate, Farfarello was on him, biting and sucking at his too-pale lips, violently kissing color back into them. Yohji breathed and moaned underneath him, his claws digging into the other man's hips as he ground them together, wrenching unearthly noises from their throats. When they broke apart, Yohji pulled off his own gloves with his teeth, letting them fall harmlessly to the ground. The stretchy fabric too soon became a nuisance, following their movements instead of creating friction, and Farfarello made short work of them, the colorful shreds floating in every direction.
It struck him suddenly that he'd only gotten a small taste of his lover during their last encounter, and Farfarello slipped gracefully backwards and down between his partner's knees, pressing a clawed hand against Yohji's abdomen to keep him flat against the couch cushion. The taller blond hissed slightly, his fingers scraping along Farf's skin as the other man slipped away, his skin feeling chilled at the unexpected lack of contact.
"Farf-"
"Hush," Farfarello hissed, bringing his leather-coated fingers up to splay lightly against the man's member. A single bead of pearl budded at the top and slipped down, and Farf leaned forward to catch it with his tongue, then followed it back up to its source. He dipped his tongue into the tip, which elicited a sharp intake of breath from the object's owner. Yohji barely managed to muffle a cry as Farfarello's lips descended quickly around his flesh. The descent paused only momentarily as the tip pressed against the back of his throat, and then it slid down easily, Farfarello burying his face deep in Yohji's blond pelvic hair.
Farfarello's fingers were clenched around Yohji's hips, keeping him pressed securely against the couch, and Yohji's nails scratched and dug at the cushions, making deep lines in the expensive fabric. After a while, Yohji began tossing and squirming mindlessly, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the Irishman milked him.
"I don't think I can-" Farfarello made a noise deep in his throat to hush him, but the vibrations only caused the blond to try more desperately to push his hips forward. Those words brought Farfarello back to the present, though, and made him acutely aware of his own need, bobbing distraughtly as he suckled his partner. With a wet noise, the Irishman detached himself, giving the tip one final lick before he moved up to straddle the other man's hips again, rubbing himself against Yohji with a low whining noise.
Yohji smiled, his cheeks flushed red and his lids heavy with desire. The sight caused the wings in Farfarello's chest to take on new life, and his ribs felt like a cage from which they were trying to burst free. The white-haired man ran his fingers through Yohji's hair, kissing him frantically, as though the thin form underneath him might disappear at any moment.
"Wait," Yohji moaned, fingers pressing backwards against Farfarello's chest, "let me go get some lotion or something."
Farfarello snarled, his mask falling backwards and rolling onto the floor, claws dragging across the pale bared flesh. Yohji yelped, taken aback by the pain and Farfarello's sudden wild expression. The blond softened slightly after a moment, and pulled the other man forward into a deep kiss. The Irishman clung to him desperately, rubbing their bodies together as if he could steal all of Yohji's warmth.
"I'm not going anywhere," Yohji purred softly into Farfarello's lips as they pulled apart to breathe, and Farfarello's breath hitched, dragging across his vocal chords in a soundless cry.
And Yohji figured, just this once, since he couldn't find a way to leave the couch without causing another reaction in his partner, they could forgo lubrication. Besides, the almost painful pleasure seemed very fitting. Farfarello moaned softly, his face now buried in the crook of Yohji's neck, as the blond's finger pressed into him. He made his body completely lax, wanting to feel his partner as soon as possible, and Yohji soon had three fingers twisting and curling inside him. Farfarello nipped and suckled at Yohji's neck, drawing red welts to the surface, even as he whimpered and pushed back against those warm appendages.
"Uhhn… Yohji," Farfarello purred, dragging his claws lightly down Yohji's chest, which left angry red lines in their wake. Yohji removed his fingers, which pulled a strangled growl from his partner's throat, and Farfarello soon found his leather gloves being pulled off. "Declawing me already?" he asked coyly, dragging one exposed finger down Yohji's abdomen as the other glove was removed.
"Self-preservation," Yohji chuckled lowly, roughly pushing Farfarello down onto his stomach, the cushions bubbling up in response. Yohji positioned himself at the other man's entrance, and pushed forward, biting back a low cry even as Farfarello's voice tore shamelessly across the room.
"Oh Gods, Yohji," he moaned, pressing back as much as possible against the blond's restraining hands, trying to drive it in further, further… Until, at last, Yohji was buried in to the hilt, body warmth spread across his back, both men breathing heavily as they shook against each other. It was a long moment before they started moving, Farfarello's fingers digging deep into the couch cushions as Yohji pulled back, and then slowly started digging into him again, and then again, and soon they were both gasping for air, the couch shaking as Yohji pounded down, Farfarello raising his hips to try and meet the thrusts.
"Yohji, yohji…" Farfarello mewled repeatedly, eye half-closed, barely conscious of his own noises, although each word sent a burning new wave straight to Yohji's groin. Farfarello cried out suddenly, Yohji brushing up against that incredible spot inside him. The white-haired man was making constant noises now, shaking under the power of the other man's lunges, Yohji aiming carefully at his lover's prostate.
Farfarello's eye closed fully as the pressure began to build behind his muscles, and he could feel Yohji's speed increase, boring down into him deeper, the blond's ragged breath laced with low moans as he plunged forward.
The darkness burst into white as Farfarello hit his climax, his muscles shaking as they tightened, and a strangled cry ripped from Yohji's throat as he thrust into the unbelievably taut ring of muscle. Warmth spread out inside the Irishman, and Yohji made several more wild thrusts until he finally lowered himself down, stars dancing across his vision as he tried to make his head stop spinning.
They lay for a while, Yohji's eyes closed and his cheek pressed against the other man's shoulder, each trying to catch their breath as Farfarello's body slowly pushed Yohji out. When he opened his eyes, Yohji realized with a jolt that Farfarello was staring at him. Or rather, glaring at him. He slowly pulled back enough to allow Farfarello to flip onto his back, and then lowered himself down again, pressing their lips together, although his partner seemed distracted.
"What is it?" the blond finally asked after several failed attempts at getting his lover interested again.
Farfarello's brows knitted, looking away, as if he had to consider it, before he finally softly admitted, "You didn't say it."
Now it was Yohji's turn to be confused again, but he didn't dare ask, instead mulling over this tidbit in silence. Say it. Something he usually said? Something he'd been asked to say? …Asked. His eyes widened in recognition, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Lazily, he crawled up, running his tongue along the ridge of his partner's ear, and whispered lowly, "I'm sorry… Jei." The body underneath him both tightened and loosened somehow, Farfarello's breath quickening, and Yohji murmured breathily, "My Jei…"
And this time, when he moved back, pressing their lips together, the difference was electric, Farfarello suckling at his tongue, fingers raking soothingly through Yohji's hair. Instantly, Yohji felt himself responding again, and could feel a similar reaction from he warm body below him.
Growling low in his throat, Farfarello hooked his knee around the blond's side and twisted them both onto the floor, his fingers once again going to work to please his beautifully sensitive lover.
--
Yohji was plopped in a surprisingly comfortable kitchen chair, horrifyingly aware of the eyes boring into the back of his skull. A low voice was still chuckling in his head, which he couldn't seem to block out.
Earlier that morning, he'd awoken to rug burn, a sore ass, and… eyes. Eyes set below flaming orange hair, which were both set above that wide, jeering mouth. Schuldig had been sitting on the living room couch that morning, the television blaring in the background, as if nothing were amiss. As if there weren't two naked male bodies entangled only inches from his feet. As if one of those weren't one of his worst enemies.
Yohji had been a little… shocked.
So shocked, in fact, that he'd abruptly locked himself up in the nearest room for the next half-hour. This room happened to be Crawford's office, and Schuldig had spent that entire half-hour mentally telling him what would happen if Brad came home to find a naked Weiss in his office. Some of those things were quite realistic, but others just caused Yohji to want to stay locked up a while longer for… obvious reasons.
Finally, it was a drowsy Farfarello who had coaxed him out. "Coaxed him out" meaning skillfully picked the lock and drug him bodily to his own room, where he proceeded to screw him into the wall yet another time.
Yohji never even considered the possibility of being bottom before the other night, but he found the experience… exhilarating. Especially when he'd finally managed to slow the process down enough to become enjoyable.
When he'd come out of Farfarello's room, wearing a loose pair of jeans and a tight black tank top, Schuldig still had that wide grin plastered on his face, although he thankfully stayed far away from Yohji's bruised mind.
He was planning on leaving immediately, but Farfarello insisted he stay, murmuring warm promises in his ear until he finally agreed. Schuldig chuckled softly in the background, but by this point it was obvious that the man was more than a little drunk, and probably wouldn't remember the experience anyway.
Don't be so sure about that, kitten. I have a habit of keeping the really juicy bits…
"Stay out of his head, Schuldig," Farfarello murmured dangerously. Farfarello was making breakfast, Schuldig was swaying slightly on top of a barstool, and a nice, warm mug of coffee had found its way into Yohji's hands. And now, sipping on high-quality coffee, the entire experience seemed… surreal.
A while later, after Schuldig had dropped off to sleep beside his plate of eggs, Farfarello drove him back to the Koneko in one of the company's pitch black cars, locking him in for only a brief, wild lip-lock before letting him free to stand on the curb in a daze, feeling as though he'd just been thrust back into reality from some sort of fairy tale.
He walked into the store to find a very pissed-off Ken, an extremely frazzled-looking, but pleased Omi , and a very exhausted-looking Aya. It appeared as though everyone had had a long night after the mission. Ah, home, sweet home.
--
End
A/n: Hope this was satisfying! Please leave comments, even if it's just a "cool" or "I hate -such and such- character." It's nice knowing people exist out there :3 Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
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The Dance