BY : MikoNoHoshi
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 4275
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...

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Scare Me

There was a momentary struggle, the small body shifting enticingly in his arms, but the moment he spoke Aya stilled. Schuldig pulled him tighter against his chest, burying his noise in red hair and breathing deeply.

//I missed you.//

As Aya tried to breathe against his hand, Schuldig began to work his way into the boy’s mind. He found more resistance than before, a consequence of his improved physical condition no doubt. When he’d first gotten his pet, it had been a trial to read him; it had confused him at the start, until he’d found out exactly why Mr. Takatori wanted Ran. He was more than a pretty thing.

Oh, but he was pretty.

Still, Schuldig didn’t want to deal with the difficulty all over, so he made quick work of forcing his way inside, feeling the jerk of the body in his arms as pain raced through Aya’s head.

//Sorry, but you know better.//

It took him only a few minutes to sift through Aya’s memories of the past week, and he found most of them to his liking. Yes, his kitten was being treated kindly for once, something Schuldig wanted despite Crawford’s insistence against it. The confusion of his mind was just too delicious. More than once Schuldig wished Brad would just back off and let him have Aya; the boy should be his to play with. A fine balance was required. If he was completely broken, the entire process ceased to be any fun at all.

Now this was fun.

There was a sweet disappointment in the boy’s mind.

Digging around in the day’s events, he found surprisingly developed trust in the new owner. He didn’t think that would happen so quickly, but it was still underlaid with insecurities. These were bolstered by Crawford’s training. It had worked well, he supposed, because buried fairly deeply in Aya’s mind were the ideas the precog had placed there: he was worthless, dirty, a dishonorable failure deserving only punishment. There was the constant dull throbbing of shame, a desperate wish to be rid of it, and the confusion of how to do so. And there, the hopelessness that undulated under everything, threatening to overtake him; it had a bitter feel that made Schuldig turn his nose up and move his mind away. That was always a strong presence, but now, other ideas flitted around it, those from Aya’s past life closer to the surface than before. Schuldig doubted they were conscious yet; still, this was probably the danger Crawford was sensing.

While it would be interesting to see the boy make a pleasant life as the blonde’s pampered pet, they really couldn’t afford for him to embrace the defiance that had been so hard to restrain.

The solution was simple, and Schuldig almost smiled as he probed the boy’s feelings towards his new Master. There, beneath the fading expectation of injury, was a tender insecurity of failure. That would do nicely.

//I’m going to uncover your mouth, but we must be quiet. Understand?//

There was a nod, and he released the boy all at once. Aya practically sprang from his arms.

That wouldn’t do at all.

//I didn’t say you could move!//

Using speed that would baffle the average man, he shot out a hand and snatched Aya’s wrist, yanking him back. There was resistance, and as they stood facing in the still room, his hand bruisingly tight around the bony wrist, he saw a delectable fear in the boy’s eyes. Another hard pull to the wrist brought Aya in close, sending him off balance, and Schuldig’s other hand, drawn into a tight fist, landed solidly against his stomach.

Aya gasped. Releasing the wrist, Schuldig stepped in to catch him as he doubled over, maneuvering the boy into a tight hug that mimicked the one he had shared with his Master. Aya’s arms were held at his sides by the German’s left arm, and when the boy tried to lift his head, Schuldig’s right hand fisted tightly in the back of his hair and forced it back onto his shoulder.

//I’m jealous, kätzchen. Don’t you want to hug me?//

There was a little, breathless groan.

//Aw. I know you love me. That’s why I’m here to help you.//

He didn’t have to search for the doubt that surged through the other’s mind, laced with copious amounts of dread and a few bright sparks of fear the boy was doing his best o suppress. Always a fighter, this one.

“Kneel,” he said out loud, and when Aya hesitated, Schuldig used the hold on his hair to force him down. Instead of releasing the red strands, he tugged the boy’s head back and leaned over to brush his lips against Aya’s. They were dry, slightly open with his labored breathing but didn’t move when they met his own; he didn’t stay long enough for Aya to snap at him, but was sure to run his wet tongue over the bottom lip before drawing away.

//You always taste so sweet.//

He dropped Aya’s head and it fell forward. Now that looked like the boy he knew, kneeling on the floor, head bowed in submission that never really reached his core.

//Pretty clothes. Your Master dress you in those?//

A nod.

//He spoils you. A pity you won’t be here long.//

Purple eyes snapped up at him, surprise going quick to anger when he laughed.

//Now, kätzchen –//

“Don’t call me that.”

So he was angry over not staying with the blonde. Interesting. They hadn’t had a good game in a while.

//I’ll call you whatever I want, kätzchen.//

“And stay out of my head.”

The threat was meager, slightly unsure. Even better, Aya’s voice was still quiet. He had no idea, no notion that he might call for help, that anyone would come and save him.

How fun to touch him with the others so close.

Smiling, Schuldig crouched down in front of him so they were eye level. Reaching out, he began unbuttoning the blue over shirt, pushing it apart to further reveal the leather collar still firmly in place around Aya’s pale neck. Unable to resist, he tugged the white undershirt out of the boy’s jeans and slipped his hand underneath.

Aya’s eyes closed, is lips pressed into a thin line. Schuldig leaned forward to kiss them again as he brushed his hand over the warm stomach, hover around the line of the pants.

“Don’t get cocky,” he warned.

Removing his had from beneath Aya’s shirt, he let it trail up the boy’s chest, tracing the collar with his finger before hooking it into the sliver ring and pulling so that Aya’s face was close to his own.

“Listen to me, Ran. How long do you think this will last? Your owner does all this for you, pampers you, while you do nothing, nothing for him. He fusses over you, and you don’t so much as call him Master. He doesn’t punish you when he could, believe me, and you know you deserve it. You don’t give him your body; you don’t give him anything.”

He used his hold to shake the boy, watching long fingers clench into fists that would never lash out.

“You’re useless. You make him angry. And soon Balinese will—”

“Balinese?” it was a whisper, not really directed at him, but Schuldig caught his mistake. Damn.

He didn’t have a choice. Wrapping his fist around the collar, he shoved Aya backwards, knocking the back of his head into the corner of the bed post. Only Schuldig’s hold kept him from falling to the floor, and he drug Aya back into his kneel.


He could feel the pain in Aya’s mind, sharp and throbbing; the name was forgotten.

“The minute your Master gets tired of you, when he ceases to be amused by this little game of ‘helping’ you, the second that happens, you come back home. And,” he leaned close to speak into the boy’s ear “you know how pleased Crawford will be to see you.

“Almost as pleased as I am,” he purred, feeling Aya shudder. Gently he kissed the boy’s cool cheek, his jaw, and was about to nip at the neck when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Fuck,” he growled. Remembering his instruction, he once again shoved Aya’s head into the bed post. It hit hard, making a loud thunk and leaving violet eyes slightly unfocused.

As the boy went to fall, Schuldig grabbed the collar and drug Aya close, half hugging half restraining as he hissed in his ear, “Don’t even think about telling him I was here, or I’ll take you with me next time.”

Then, as quickly as he had approached, he drew back to stand at the window, detached and unmoved, or at least appearing so to Aya. The steps were closer. He smiled.

“Hey, Aya,” Yohji’s voice called from the hall.

//Be good.//

Blowing a kiss, he slipped out the open window and jumped to the street.


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