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Survivor: Schwartz	By : sefiru Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1784 -:- 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
Survivor: Schwartz

By Sefiru

Warnings: NC-17, M/M, oral, anal, D/s (as usual), evil.

Pairings: C/S, N/F

Summary: four psychic assassins on a desert island. Hijinks ensue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz
or a bronze statue of Crawford.

Admiral ShadowWolf: teehee, you said mind-blowing ^^

NightWriter: more than one thing is up with Farf ^^

In this chapter: Farf is sane, Nagi is embarrassed, Crawford is sneaky and Schuldig is
horny.

***

Chapter 5: Magic Leaves

***

       “What the
bloody fuck?”

       Crawford merely
said, “Remarkable.” Bizarro-Farf dug through the
embers and turned up some palm-leaf packets. Crawford took one without
hesitation; Schuldig wasn’t so sure. He dipped cautiously into Farf’s mindscape; the last time he’d been in there, the
floor had been paved with oozing meat. Disgusting. Now
the floor was perfectly orderly flagstone. Looking around, the environment was
still a church interior, but it had lost the looming shadows and blood
splatters. Schuldig retreated into his own skull, more than a little creeped out. “Uh … so how are you today, Farf.”

       “Very well,
thank you.”

       Schuldig chose
not to dignify that with a response. Invisible giant cats, screeching
cockatrices, hidden bottles of rum, de-bastardized Crawford, and now de-psychoed Farf. It all made sense
now: this island had the power to alter personalities. Soon Nagi
would turn into a beer-swilling jock, and then Schuldig would become a boring,
complacent, prudish nerd!

       While Schuldig
contemplated his horrible fate, Crawford said, “Farf,
you seem remarkably, er,”

       “Rational?”

       “Indeed.”
Crawford plucked a clam from its shell and tossed the halves in the fire. Farf took another parcel and started doing the same.

       “I think it’s
the leaves,” he said. He pulled one off a branch next to him and chewed on it;
Schuldig recognized that morning’s mystery plant. “About half an hour after I
ate them, I was suddenly like this. They don’t taste half bad either.”

       And if they
could pull Farf out of the loony bin in only one
dose, they had to be some good shit. Schuldig thought about trying one, but
there was no telling what those would do to a normal person. He asked, “So what
does Nagi think?”

      Farf leered. “Oh, he thinks it’s fantastic.” He tossed a
clamshell into the flames and continued, “Guess I’ll have to take up gardening.
Now I’ve tried it, I kind of like sanity.”

      “If we ever get
out of this place, hire the kitties to do it for you,” Schuldig suggested. Farf flipped him off.

      Crawford put in,
“Are you going to turn atheist?”

      “Nah, I still
believe in God, I just hate his guts. Maybe I’ll become a Satanist.”

      “Helter skelter,” Schuldig muttered. He could get to like this new Farf. And those clams smelled good …

      Just then Nagi returned to camp with his foraging bucket. Farf blew him a kiss, and he blushed; as he unloaded his
finds he said, “You two didn’t manage to bring back anything, did you?”

      “We got
sidetracked,” Schuldig said. “I’m surprised you got anything. I hear you and Farf got frisky this morning.”

      Nagi just blushed
darker. Farf answered, “We had to stop because I was
sore.” Schuldig thought that Nagi would burst a blood
vessel from sheer embarrassment. Luckily, Crawford changed the subject away
from their respective love lives.

       “These are some
unusual eggs.” Which was an understatement; they were a little smaller than
chicken eggs, and they were striped pink and white exactly like mints at a
restaurant.

        “I’ll bet
they’re cockatrice eggs,” said Schuldig.

        “Probably.”

        “Cockatrice?”
asked Nagi. Crawford briefly explained about the
psychic bird he’d trapped, and added, “I have found what appears to be a mango
tree, and I have an idea of how to trap those antelopes. Farf,
if you would boil the eggs, please, and Schuldig, come with me.”

        He wasn’t
finished his clams, but hey, this was a chance to get laid again! Schuldig gave
his leftovers to Nagi and followed Crawford into the
woods. Of course Crawford was serious about building that trap; he directed
Schuldig to hang up pieces of fishing net to make a chute, while he dug a pit
using an old plank. Without his shirt on. Mm-mm.
Schuldig finished his task as quickly as he could – see, he could be diligent
with the right incentive – then wandered over to feast his eyes on Crawford’s
chiseled and sweat-streaked back. His pants tightened; if he ever got a chance
to sign a new contract, he’d have to insist on Crawford nudity as one of his
benefits. The American set down his makeshift shovel and ran a hand through his
hair; Schuldig’s cock twitched. He was so distracted
that when Crawford pounced on him and dragged him away through the trees, he
didn’t manage a reaction until he was already flat on his back in a patch of
moss.

      “Hey, why are
you so horny all of a sudden?”

      “I’ve been this
horny all along,” Crawford replied. His hands opened Schuldig’s
pants and pulled them to his knees. “I just have more patience than you.”

      “What the –”
Schuldig struggled to form a coherent answer while strong fingers massaged his
balls. “You mean you were leading me on the whole time?”

      “Mm-hm.” Crawford sucked on his
ear. “I had to make you think you wanted it more than I did.”

      “Fuckwit.”

      Crawford licked
up the side of his neck. “Why didn’t you try to read my mind?”

      I don’t know, because you’d never let me?
But a light probe revealed that Crawford’s mind was, indeed, open to him. This
time he stepped gracefully into the mindscape and appeared right beside the
central fountain. He took a moment to wiggle his toes in the grass – grass! He
still thought it was beyond bizarre. Meanwhile, Crawford was teasing his nipple
with a thumbnail. He looked at the fountain with its bronze statue and decided
it was time for some payback.

      He stepped right
into the water and climbed up on the plinth, which put his head on a level with
the statue’s crotch. Excellent. He licked at the bulge
in the metal; his physical ears told him that Crawford groaned. The bronze
bulge grew in reflection of reality. He flipped Crawford over on the moss and
matched his physical actions with his mental ones, rubbing his face on the
cloth of Crawford’s shorts. He pulled down the zipper with his teeth; at the
same time he opened the pants on the statue. Mindscapes were so much fun. Two
cocks presented themselves in his perceptions, one of gleaming bronze and one
of hot, musky flesh. He wasted no time engulfing both of them with his lips.

      Crawford briefly
retained enough presence of mind to slide a finger into Schuldig’s
body, but he quickly lost all control. Schuldig discovered that when he did
certain things with is tongue he could make that finger twitch inside him.
Bonus for him! He sank down on the bronze cock as he pulled back on the meaty
one, alternating strokes; Crawford was obviously getting off on the whole
mind-fuck side of it.

      So he stopped
moving in the physical world and focused all his attention on the jutting
bronze shaft. He lapped at the head. He stroked the vein. He deep throated and
swallowed around it. In the physical world, Crawford’s cock pumped Schuldig’s mouth of its own accord. A tremor shook the
mindscape, and the bronze cock shot into his lips a fluid of pure sensation,
sharing all that Crawford was feeling at that moment. At the same moment, his
material cock coated Schuldig’s mouth with seed.
Schuldig was so aroused he couldn’t control himself; he lunged up and pressed
his tip into Crawford’s mouth, and seized his wrist to jam his finger into his
sweet spot. He cried out and unloaded his balls onto Crawford’s tongue.

       After that he
could barely move. His material body lay sprawled beside Crawford on the moss;
in the mindscape he was draped over the fountain’s edge, trailing one hand in
the water. This way he could feel Crawford’s weird but pleasant sense of peace.
There was even more of it in his mind than before; you’d almost think he liked
being alone on an island with his teammates.

       The statue
still held an urn under its arm. Suddenly, as Schuldig watched, a huge vision
bubble popped out of it. He tried to catch it, but not being a precog,
he missed and dropped the link. He was catapulted back into his own mind. “What
did you see?”

       “Another message from the mysterious A.” Crawford stood and
hitched up his pants. “Come on, we should collect the others before digging it
up.”

***

There wasn’t supposed to be a Lemon in here … the boys went
and did one anyway.

Next chapter: buried plot devices from A … but they’ll have
to fight for them!
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Survivor: Schwartz