BY : MikoNoHoshi
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 4283
Disclaimer: I get no money from writing these fics, nor I don't own Weiss. In fact, I'm not even allowed to touch the pretty least not in any of their special places...

Notes: I’ve never written more than a fight scene with Schuldig before, but I’ve recently fallen in like with the unfortunate German (but not paired with Aya’s Yohji, that’s a no-no). Anyway, here’s to evil bishounen!

Chapter warnings: NCS (non-consensual sex, not graphic), violence (some might consider it graphic, I don’t really think so, but be warned)

Chapter Two: Break Me

//That’s enough,// Schuldig said, but the other man didn’t stop.

It forced him to repeat himself out loud, instantly disliking the grating aggravation in his voice. “Back off,” he growled.

And when there was still no response, “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!”

Farfarello looked up as if noticing his presence for the first time; his head tilted to the side in thought, the knife in his hand still moving. Then, with slow deliberation, he withdrew the thin blade from the jagged red path it was tracing between Ran’s shoulder blades as he watched fresh, bright blood run down the smeared skin.

“You’re going to scar him,” Schuldig warned. As he pushed himself off the wall, Farfarello retreated from the boy, tossing himself into one of the dark corners to lick at the flat of the blade, finding it pleasantly warm.

The boy was still conscious, Schuldig noted as he crouched beside the bruised form, slightly appalled by the way his shoes slipped in the dark puddle of blood and less delicate gore that had been forced from Ran’s body. The boy laid in the mess, naked save the collar, hands tied at a painful angle behind his back and his ankles bound with thick, black cord. His skin might have looked warmer in the dim light of the single incandescent bulb, but it was broken and dirty. Even his hair seemed to have lost its fire, unwashed and dried stiff with blood. But when Schuldig grabbed it and hefted him up into a sitting position, the strange eyes opened, and he felt not fear but rage.

//Das ist gut, kätzchen. I like that.//

When he dropped his hair, Ran fell to the floor like a fleshy sack of potatoes and didn’t move.

“You’re so messy,” Schuldig turned up his nose as he stood over the bleeding body. “Ah, well, I suppose I’ll have to clean you up before I return you.”


“Lie still, for her sake.”


“No, Ran,” Crawford shook his head as his fingers roughly probed the virgin body, “you must call me Master.”

He had thought the boy would scream, but he didn’t.


Schuldig peeled away the stiff sheets, unconsciously grimacing when he had to yank them loose in places where various dried fluids stuck them to the skin of the unconscious Ran. Really, he wasn’t a fucking maid. He did this only because Crawford promised him ample time later to play with the new toy as he saw fit. The German didn’t care to take him like this, to leave the yuck and the bruises; no, emotional contusions were much more satisfying.


“You’ve found a buyer?”


“Where is Ran?”

A little smile, “In your room, of course.”

“He hasn’t tried to leave this time?”


“Good. Dress him and take him to Joji’s. I will meet you there.”


Farfarello was lurking outside the door to Crawford’s private rooms. He paused in his idle carving of the plaster to stare at Schuldig.

“Is the kitty leaving?”


“Can I say goodbye?”

“Crawford wants him clean for the auction.”

“Pity,” he inhaled deeply as he rolled his golden eye towards the ceiling, “he bleeds so nicely.”

Ignoring the mix of memory and imagination rolling off the scarred man, Schuldig sauntered into the rooms to seek his prey. He half expected to find him somewhere new. They’d exhausted quite a few creative possibilities, and while he might cast about and read the other, it was too much fun finding Ran’s hiding spots. At first he’d made a few escape attempts, gained the hallway once by crouching behind the door and attempting to strangle Schuldig with the collar. That had been fun.

The last few weeks, though, it hadn’t been so challenging, but Schuldig had hopes for his pet who so often toyed with rebellious thoughts. It had been almost painful to see so many of these checked by Crawford’s increased conditioning. If not for the leverage against him, Schuldig had no doubts the boy would have been more virulent in his resistance. It would have made the victory more sweet, but Crawford had other ideas.

“Fucking visions,” the man complained as he leaned to peek under the table.

His fostered hopes of a last spirited tussle made it disappointing to find Ran huddled in the corner of the bedroom, wedged between the oak nightstand and the wall. He’d made some attempt to hide his privates with one of Crawford’s white, cotton sheets, dragging it ineffectually over his lap before drawing his knees to his chest.

The collar looked especially dark against skin that was too pale. While the mental pressures had multiplied, Crawford had been physically careful in the last three weeks, and even Farf had been forced to back off so that the bruises were beginning to clear and the shallow scrapes beginning to scab over. He probably wouldn’t have any noticeable scares in a few months, well, besides the ones.

Schuldig crouched in front of the boy, reaching out a hand. The eyes didn’t open in challenge; he flinched away instead.

//Bath time.//

He waited.

//No threat today? No warning to get out of your pretty head?//

Nothing but a faint trembling.

//Ah, so we have broken you? I suppose it was foolish of me to think our games would last, but these months have been so much fun,// he sighed as he idly stroked one naked thigh. //I suppose you will call me Master now?//

“No,” it was a weak whisper slipped between dry lips as his head fell back against the wall.


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