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Dragon Cycle	By : RubyRoh Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6228 -:- 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
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Dragon Cycle - 1)

Disclaimer: Of course the WK and Schwarz boys don't belong to me, we just have fun together. I write this stuff for pleasure not profit.

Author's Notes: This is the first chapter in a story that will be god-knows how long.

Many thanks go to my beta, Iron Dog, for the polishing job and added spice.

The Study Session

Crawford looked at the large sheet of paper lying on the desk in front of him. Deciding he'd studied it long enough, he sent a mental summons. Within minutes, Schuldig sauntered into the room. He closed the door and his questioning gaze moved to the man who was his leader.

"Business or pleasure?" he purred with a smirk bordering on sensual.

"Come and look at this," Crawford said, ignoring the taunt.

"Pleasure it is," Schuldig grinned wolfishly as he glided in Crawford's direction.

He ignored the visitor's chair, opting for Crawford's side of the desk. He turned, resting his ass on the edge of the expensive piece of furniture. Crossing his arms he leaned into Crawford's space. The faint scent of expensive cologne wafted into the air between them.

"What do you want me to look at?" his tone teased as his gaze travelled over as much of the American as he could see.

Crawford really hated it when Schuldig was in the mood to be annoying. He gestured at the paper before him.

Schuldig turned his head and glanced down at the large sheet for barely a second before grinning at his leader.

"Oh, Brad, you bought us a house," he simpered.

Crawford didn't smile. "Study it," he instructed.

Schuldig pouted. "Why?"

"Always 'why' with you, Schuldig. Just do it," Crawford said shortly.

Schuldig muttered something that was too low for Crawford to hear. He guessed it wasn't flattering. The telepath unfolded his arms and reached for the plan.

"What are you doing?" Crawford enquired.

"You told me to study it. I'm taking it to my room."

"It doesn't leave this room," Crawford explained.

Schuldig eyed him silently for a moment before mirth made its way into his gaze. "Shall I sit on your lap then?" the German leered.

Crawford hastily disposed of the sudden erotic image that formed in his mind as he let Schuldig take the floor plan. Moving to the chair on the other side of the desk, the telepath sat down and laid the paper out before him. He drew a deep breath through his nose and let it out noisily as he dropped his gaze. Crawford watched him as he perused the plan.

That flippant question of less than a minute ago had sparked a part of the American's brain that too many people thought didn't even exist; but it did. Crawford had a sex-drive - one he usually kept firmly under control, and one the damnable German could send into overdrive with a mere look. This annoyed Crawford. He needed to be in control of any and all situations. He disliked it intensely when something slipped that control - especially should that something be his own wants and desires. He had tried to look upon it as a challenge. He was very good at meeting challenges. But this was one challenge that seemed to keep besting him.

"This..." Schuldig stopped as he raised his head and found Crawford's intense, heated gaze resting on him. He gave a small laugh; amused. Endlessly amused - that was Schuldig. "You want to forget the floor plan for a while? Something else catches your interest?" he enquired as he returned the desire filled look with one of his own.

In answer, Crawford merely stood up. He moved around the desk and Schuldig stood to meet him. Their arms wrapped around each other and the kiss they shared spoke only of heated need. Neither man would let himself believe things were otherwise.

Crawford could feel Schuldig creeping around the edges of his mind. Hoping - as he always did - that need would overcome caution, and Crawford would lower his shields enough for him to squeeze through. What was he hoping to find? A hidden declaration of love? Probably not. Schuldig was not the romantic type. Nor was he unrealistic. He understood how he fitted into Crawford's scheme of things. Maybe it was just the curiosity of not being allowed in to see what went on in Crawford's brain.

Multi-tasking, Schuldig? Crawford taunted silently.

Habit, came the reply as hands began to slide Crawford's suit jacket from his shoulders.

There was a large couch beneath the one window in the room. In front of it was a heavy coffee table that contained four drawers. By the time they reached the couch, Crawford's suit had been removed - and carefully folded - and Schuldig's clothes lay scattered where they had fallen.

Crawford broke their kiss, and bent to the bottom drawer in the coffee table. Schuldig's hand caressed his bare ass as words of appreciation were murmured in his head. The soft touch and intimate words sent a shiver of arousal down his spine. He opened the drawer and took out a throw rug, a foil and a tube. He knew his fastidiousness during sex annoyed the German, who'd have happily fucked naked on the floor; or anywhere else for that matter, without a second thought. But Crawford had his quirks, and while Schuldig thought the rug was merely to protect the leather of the couch, Crawford was much more practical than that. The rug was easily washed and it saved the trouble of any cleaning-up later.

With the rug in place, Schuldig lowered himself onto the couch, drawing Crawford with him. Before allowing another kiss, the American removed his glasses, placing them carefully on the coffee table. He looked down at Schuldig with slightly fuzzy vision. With the customary bandana gone, the red hair fell where it would; its outrageous colour bright against the deep brown of the couch. He liked Schuldig's hair and, right now, he liked Schuldig. He'd like him even more once he had him panting and moaning under him. Lowering his head, he kissed the telepath again, hearing the small groan as he allowed his full weight to rest on the wiry body beneath him.

This was also part of the ritual they both accepted. Crawford's retribution because the German had managed to evoke desire with so little effort. Crawford remained like that for as long as the kiss lasted, his hands buried in the warmth of the thick, red hair; his skin flushing from the feel of another's body pressed so close in desire. Schuldig's hands moved over his back like a whisper, barely brushing the skin - a delightful sensation that fired his arousal. All the same, his erection, trapped as it was between their bodies, wasn't getting the heat and friction he wanted; needed; craved. Crawford suddenly rocked his hips, catching Schuldig off-guard, and causing him to groan sharply as his hands clutched at his leader's back. Ending the kiss, Crawford raised himself slightly, taking his weight on one arm. Using his right leg he nudged Schuldig's legs apart. The German was watching him through eyes half-closed with arousal, all thoughts of sneaking around Crawford's mind forgotten as desire washed through his brain.

Schuldig's hands continued their slow caresses, moving from back to chest, teasing at the dark nipples and earning a low moan from Crawford before sliding slowly along his sides and around to his back once more. Schuldig raised his head, using his teeth and tongue to continue the teasing his fingers had begun. Crawford drew a sharp breath between his teeth. He and Schuldig had been having sex for over a year now, and the telepath well knew what moved him.

Crawford let himself be indulged a little longer, before reaching between their bodies and wrapping a hand around Schuldig's erection. The German's head snapped back and he hissed in satisfaction even as his fingers dug into Crawford's flesh and his back arched, pressing him closer to Crawford. As Schuldig knew what brought him pleasure, Crawford knew what buttons to press with the German. Schuldig gasped something that Crawford didn't understand, but the reaction made the American smile. He continued to stroke Schuldig, eliciting husky moans and breathless words of encouragement from him. When he gauged the time was right, Crawford released his hold, reaching towards the table.

One-handed, he flipped open the top on the tube and squeezed some of the clear, non-scented lube onto the fingers of his other hand. Moving enough to give himself room to watch, Crawford worked quickly but not hurriedly. He slicked Schuldig's tight ring of muscle with one hand while the other returned to stroking him. He pressed first one then another finger inside the German, enjoying the naked hunger this produced on his face. The telepath's hands were gripping the throw rug; bunching and twisting it in his fists. His eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged. Crawford watched him, thinking that one of the reasons he liked having sex with Schuldig was that it shut him up for a while.

Satisfied that the German was ready for him, Crawford reached once more to the table, picking up the foil. Tearing it open required two hands. Of course, he could use his teeth, but he still needed two hands to put it on. He was watching Schuldig, knowing that the lack of attention would be noticed about...now. The blue eyes half opened and the German gave him a sardonic smile.

"I'm not diseased, you know. You can take my word on that," he said, desire making his voice lower than normal.

"We have this discussion every time," Crawford pointed out as he continued applying the condom.

Schuldig sighed and closed his eyes, electing to say nothing more - out loud, at least. It hardly mattered to Crawford. He knew Schuldig's complaint wasn't with the use of a condom so much as with the interruption to activities while it was applied. The telepath had once offered to help Crawford with the task, but that effort had seen the sex conclude with the condom lying on the floor unused. And while it had felt unbelievably good to experience the heat of Schuldig without a barrier, it wasn't how Crawford wanted their encounters to go. Control was everything, even in so small a matter as whether or not a condom was used. He'd learned not to trust the German when he offered to be helpful. Schuldig seemed to delight in making Crawford loose his precious control whenever possible.

He leaned along the length of Schuldig's body, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth. Straightening again, he closed his hand around the German's cock once more as he positioned himself. Despite his craving for release he was careful with his entry, allowing Schuldig time to adjust with each push. While it was true the telepath was no virgin, Crawford had learned that care was required unless he wanted to put up with endless bitching about abused nether regions. So he took his time, distracting Schuldig with gentle strokes until he was fully encased in the heat of the German's body. He stopped a moment, allowing himself to adjust to the bliss of that feeling. Schuldig's hands roamed restlessly over his shoulders and back.

"Don't stop now. Move," Schuldig urged, circling his hips restlessly, even as Crawford became aware of sensations that weren't his.

This was one of the mind-blowing benefits - and pitfalls - of fucking the telepath. Sensory feedback.

Soon after they'd come together as a team, Schuldig had established mental links with each of his three colleagues. Through the telepath two, three or all four of them could communicate without speaking a word. This had proved invaluable on missions. Apart from Schuldig, Crawford was the only one who knew when the links were active. This fact annoyed the German endlessly and he spent otherwise idle hours trying to overcome this perceived defect.

During sex, the benefit of the feedback came from being aware of all the sensations Schuldig was experiencing, but this was also the pitfall. Experiencing the sensations of both partners heightened the pleasure, but resulted in sensory overload, meaning the act was over far too soon. It also interfered with Crawford's control of the situation.

Crawford was a man who knew his limits so he only allowed the link between them to remain open during the initial, slow thrusting. Schuldig muttered lowly, urging him to speed things up. Crawford didn't oblige him. He was the one in control now and he was setting the pace.

The German's arms wrapped around his neck, one hand going behind his head and drawing him down for another kiss. Crawford went easily. He liked kissing Schuldig and exploring that hot and eager mouth. He liked the play of tongues and teeth nipping at lips, just this side of pleasurable pain...

...his vision whited out and he realized he'd allowed the German to distract him with the sensual kiss. He'd thrust deeper than he'd intended and hit the prostate.

Beneath him the telepath shuddered out a groan; back arching; fingers digging into the American's shoulders and scalp; heels pressing into the leather couch. Schuldig's intense pleasure looped back onto Crawford.

"The...Schuldig...shields," Crawford gasped, teetering on the fine edge of his control.

The link snapped shut and Crawford thrust forward again. He was too aroused to take things slowly now. He continued to stroke Schuldig firmly in time with his own increasing desire. The German had released his hold on Crawford, his hands reaching back to brace against the armrest of the couch in an attempt to stop his head from being driven into it by the American's escalating pace and force. Despite his ragged breathing, Schuldig was still managing to speak, albeit in short, guttural sentences. A deep kiss silenced him for a brief time.

During the kiss, Crawford closed his eyes. He kept them closed as he raised his head, shutting out the intoxicating sight of the redhead writhing with desire under him. He focused on his own heightening pleasure, knowing that release was close. He could no longer hear Schuldig over his own harsh breathing. For long minutes Crawford rode the feelings building inexorably within him until an extended moan from Schuldig broke through his focus. He felt the German tense and knew one harder stroke would send him over the edge. Crawford delivered that stroke and felt his own orgasm begin to crest as Schuldig's muscles clenched him tightly. Hot, slippery seed coated his fingers as he continued to jerk Schuldig's cock, prolonging the pleasure-induced shudders of the German under him.

He managed to maintain control until he felt Schuldig begin to relax. Then he let go of his hold on the German's cock, moving his hand to a bony shoulder and gripping hard as he gave one final thrust. Sensations rolled over him, swamping him completely. He lost himself to the pleasure, soaring with it and - slowly - coming down from its high.

When he felt able, he opened his eyes, and loosened his bruising grip on Schuldig's shoulder. His heartbeat was returning to normal, his breathing had eased and he felt drained of all strength. He let himself slump down on the telepath, who still lay with his eyes closed, breathing harshly. Schuldig made a small sound as Crawford's weight came down on him, but made no move to shift him.

For a short time, Crawford allowed himself to rest. His thoughts were collecting themselves again after the rush of orgasm. Sometimes sex with Schuldig was satisfying; sometimes it was sheer ecstasy. Sometimes it was office sex; sometimes it was bedroom sex. The location always dictated the type of sex. In the office, it was fast, no-frills sex. In the bedroom it was much less hurried and much more sensual. In the office it was always instigated out of need. In the bedroom - that was need too, but of a different type.

Crawford had needs, as did any man his age. In his position, he was limited in choices when it came to a partner. Casual encounters were one option, but Crawford wasn't one for clubbing, which was where people usually found a stranger with whom to share a bed and a night. That was Schuldig's modus operandi, not his. There were, of course, classier bars where a successful young salaryman could connect with like-minded individuals, and he wasn't a complete stranger to that type of place. But one needed the time and motivation, and Crawford too often found those lacking. In regards to friends, he had none. His work was not conductive to forming friendships. That left him with his colleagues.

Setting aside the Takatori's - God that thought alone could make a man shudder! - there was Schreient. But they all seemed to be completely under Masafumi's spell. A shame, really, because the three older members were good-looking women. He disregarded Tot, who was too young for his tastes. That same logic applied to Nagi. Too young; too much like a son for a sexual relationship to ever be considered. And Farfarello? Again, the mere thought made him want to shudder. So Schuldig won by process of elimination. Probably not the best way to choose a partner, but not the worst, either. Schuldig was handsome as the Devil and he was always ready and willing. That was enough for now.

Of course, Crawford thought, there was one group he'd completely overlooked; Weiss. He almost laughed. Even should he develop a devouring lust for one of the 'kittens', he wouldn't stand a chance in Hell of winning their affection. But Crawford was in the mood to muse in his relaxed state. If I could, he thought to himself, which one? Which one would provide him with the most pleasure and still allow him to retain the control he needed?

Kudou. The name jumped into his mind without a second thought. Kudou Yohji; tall, attractive, and a reputed ladies man although, from what Schuldig had divulged about Weiss's Balinese, he was a pendulum that swung more than one way. Strangely enough, when he'd given himself to such musings in the past, Crawford had always thought that Schuldig and Kudou would make a perfect match. In another universe, in another time, maybe they could've made that match but, as things stood, they were rivals with no fondness for each other.

Enough of musing, he thought. He was feeling very contented and lying there against the warmth of Schuldig was too comfortable. He had to move or fall asleep.

Schuldig groaned as Crawford began to push up off him. He opened his eyes and looked at the American. He gave a little groan of disappointment at the feel of Crawford slipping from his body.

"Had enough of post-coital bliss already?" he pouted, banked desire smouldering in his blue eyes.

Crawford had learned long ago to ignore Schuldig's goading. Responding only encouraged him. Instead he sat on the edge of the couch and reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Within ten minutes, both men were cleaned up, dressed and the couch tidied. All evidence of the charged sexual encounter gone. Now that his desire had been fed, Crawford was once again in control of himself around the German.

They moved back to the waiting floor plan, taking up seats on opposite sides of the desk. Schuldig directed his attention at the plan. Crawford watched him, noticing the yellow bandana had not been replaced, allowing the orange hair to fall over the German's forehead, hiding his eyes. It made the German look softer, more relaxed.

Crawford felt that slight light-headedness that heralded a vision. He relaxed and closed his eyes. He Saw - and what he Saw did not please him in the least. The vision lasted only seconds. He opened his eyes slowly, his gaze coming to focus on the wild orange hair opposite him. Almost at the same time, Schuldig sat back in his chair and looked across at his leader.

"Okay, I've studied it," he said dismissively.

"Don't be flippant," Crawford ordered. "This is business."

Schuldig met his gaze evenly. "I've studied it. Since I don't know if there's something specific I'm meant to be looking at or for," he gave a shrug, "mission accomplished."

Crawford realized he was tensing up. He made himself relax. "I want this committed to memory, Schuldig," he ordered.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Crawford was in the mood to be contrary. "Because I've told you to."

He saw the deep breath the German took; a sure sign his small store of patience was being tested. But Schuldig did nothing more to express his annoyance. Instead, he said, "It's done," and began to stand up.

"This," Crawford said, "is the floor plan of Takatori's guest house in the mountains."

Schuldig turned wary eyes on the American as he lowered himself back onto the seat of his chair. "And why do I need to know the layout of his guest house?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because he's going to be spending some time there in a couple of weeks. We'll be going with him," Crawford explained.

"All of us?" Schuldig sounded appalled.

Crawford kept his smile to himself. God, he loved doing this to the German. It was such a power rush to confuse and irritate Schuldig for a change. He gave a nod - and decided to disclose the full horror of the situation.

"Mr. Takatori has, as you probably know, a new lady-friend..." He stopped as Schuldig groaned loudly.

"Tell me you're joking!"

"Schuldig, when have you known me to joke where it concerns business?"

"Babysitting! That's what this amounts to," Schuldig protested heatedly. "Why do we need to go? The old buzzard has other bodyguards; he doesn't need us to guard his fat ass while he's..."

"Schuldig," Crawford broke in before the German could go into full-rant mode. "As invaluable as your opinion is, Mr. Takatori's orders over-ride everything."

Schuldig expelled a loud, exasperated breath. He knew he couldn't win in this, but still he had to protest. "All of us?" he repeated. "For how long?"

"A week," Crawford said.

"A week. A fucking week stuck up in the mountains with Takatori and his bitch..."

"Miss Yamamoto," Crawford supplied calmly.

"I don't care what..." Schuldig stopped. He leaned forward, giving Crawford an earnest look. "You know how crazy this is," he hissed. "This is a complete waste of our talents. We'll be up there two days and I'll be climbing the walls with boredom. So how do you suppose Farfarello will cope with this 'mission'?"

"You can keep tabs on him," Crawford replied. "Maybe that will forestall any boredom."

Schuldig scowled, let out an exasperated sigh and slumped back in the chair. From the look on his face, it was clear he was sulking. He'd get over it. Eventually.

"Meanwhile, there's tonight," Crawford continued, drawing that sullen, blue gaze back to him.

"Tonight's not the problem," Schuldig said pointedly.

"Good," Crawford replied. He reached for his laptop, drawing it to him. "I have work waiting," he said, lifting the screen, dismissing Schuldig without words. He directed his attention to the screen. After long seconds, he heard Schuldig get up from the chair.

"About tonight," he said, looking up. Schuldig turned his head to meet his gaze. "Two things I want you to remember," Crawford instructed. "Follow my orders, and mind your step."

"Yeah, whatever you say," Schuldig muttered and made towards the door.

When he was gone, Crawford took off his glasses and set them on the desk. Sitting back in his chair he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He comforted himself with the thought that, sometimes, seeing the future was enough to change it. If that proved not to be the case in this instance...

...the light-headedness was back, stronger this time. He dropped his hand to his lap and relaxed into the vision.

Sometime during the vision, while his mind was in another dimension, the phone on his desk rang.
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Dragon Cycle