Tarnished Rhapsody - Scherzo
FINALLY! >< Sorry for the long wait!!! Thanks to Azuki, I'm out of my writing slump and hopefully I can update much more frequently now~~~!!! >< Thank you to all of you who is still tracking this fic! ♥
Disclaimer: The settings and characters of Weiss
Kreuz belongs to Koyasu-san and Project Weiss © I do not know these fine
gents from Japan, nor do I claim these characters are mine at all. There will
be no need for international lawsuits, since I am a flat broke otaku that just
likes to torture these characters.
Tarnished Rhapsody
Scherzo
February 2007
[Schuldich]
I stand in the back of the makeshift reception hall, gazing at the almost exaggerated,
overly-extravagant traditional Japanese funeral ceremony in front of me. Really,
with this setting, one would think that some powerful political idiot had died
instead of a show. The hall is decorated with white sashes draping off from
the beams of the ceiling, large flower displays of chrysanthemums lined side
by side, covering three walls and out the reception hall, and at the end of
the reception hall was a large casket, opened for viewing.
And my beloved sleeps in there, soundly like the dead. White roses, trimmed
of thorns, make his bed as he wears a white robe, making his blood-red hair
stand out even more so. Only those not affected by my powers, namely the Schwartz
that scattered around helping the 'funeral', could see his slow, steady breathing.
And I curse Crawford once more, vehemently in my mind.
The scene unnerves me greatly. What should be a punishment for Weiss --- showing
them that their stupidity and sick sense of 'justice' and 'vengeance' has led
to their ex-teammate's death, was decorated too close to the real deal that
it makes me shiver and pale without any acting neccesary. The casket reminds
me how close I came to losing my love, and it burns me greatly. The dread that
is associated with the crying, the sobbing, and the whispered comment of how
good people die young around the small hall only make me even more upset and
jumpy. No, this is not only a punishment for Weiss. This was also a torture
for me. Why did I agree to this?
Oh, right, because despite what public perception of me is, I'm still an idiot.
::You all right, Schu?:: a soft voice that tries his best not to sound overtly
concerned asks, and I glance over at Nagi, who is thanking yet another visitor
for coming to the funeral without looking up at me. ::Stop sending depressing
thoughts all over the world. We do have a job to do without you trying to fuck
it up.::
::Gee, I'm touched, Nagi-chan,:: I retort, and sigh mentally before I try to
avert my anxiousness by taking a peek at Aya's dream, when the service is rudely
disturbed by someone running into the hall and pushing others in front of him
away. A crazed Balinese runs in, and the room becomes dead silent as he nearly
stomps on the soft tatami-covered floor towards the casket. Blocking in front
of Aya in a protective gesture, I suddenly feel as if my suffering of seeing
Aya lying in that goddamned box was all worth the look on Youji's face. His
pupils are dilated, he has whiskers all over his face, and his hair and clothes
are messy, to put it mildly. One can easily mistake him as some homeless person
with mental problems, and that would be a very accurate description of him.
His eyes are fixed on the sleeping redhead, and one poke at his thoughts and
I retreat almost immediately.
Farfarello has met his match, I'd say.
"Not one step further," I say softly, almost a whisper, when Youji
got too close and bumped into me. The pressure to his stomach clearly informs
him of the barrel that threatens his life, and he finally looks into my eyes
as his reddened, blood-shot eyes enlarged even further. Hands on my collars,
he grips me with frightening strength as he screams, his voice hoarse and deep
and mad.
"How did he die, Mastermind?! HOW?!"
"You killed him," I say coolly, my glare equally murderous.
"You lie!"
"Don't care for the truth, Balinese?" I smirk coldly, mildly alarmed
yet amused that my feet aren't touching the floor.
"You LIE!"
A force yanks him off of me, so sudden that I almost don't catch my footing,
as a folder slaps Youji hard enough to leave a reddened imprint when Nagi looks
absolutely disdainful at Youji as he shoves the man away with his hand for show,
"See for yourself, Balinese. You killed him."
Glaring at the boy who acts so protective in front of me, the blonde opens
the file hesitantly as he reads the altered medical report that pretty much
shows everything the doctor diagnosed about Aya except for the end, which shows
him to be dead rather than alive, as I look up at the entrance where a very
shocked Ken and a frighteningly-cold Bombay watch the display quietly. Omi walks
forward to Youji slowly and takes the report from slackened hands, and reads
it carefully for any mistake or forgery. Unfortunately, the report is only too
authentic, since the best lies are part-truth, and we have imparted many truths
in that fake report.
Closing the folder with deliberate calm, Omi looks up to me with a very deadly
glare, one that even I want to flinch from, "This is a fake."
"Believe what you want," Nagi says coldly before I can speak, "but
your selfishness and self-absorbance and your twisted sense of justice killed
your own beloved Aya."
"We did what was best for him."
"Road to Hell was paved with good intentions."
Omi crumbles the folder in his hand, his words drip of poison. "No, you
were the one that killed him. Had he not been with you, Schwartz, he
would've been alive."
I scoff, amazed at Bombay's logic. And this is supposed to be the one that
carries out justice for the weak? That others are always wrong if they disagree
with his self-righteousness? And here Aya frowns everytime I mock the justice
he so dearly upheld in the past. If this is justice, then we must be angels.
At least we are not afraid of the truth. "Really? You mean living like
a corpse with no hope in life except that he might be accidentally killed in
a mission? Some nice life you provided him, Weiss. Stop pretending that you
are the only hope for him, and maybe you will see the truth for once, Omi, that
he was in pain when he stayed with you. Now, because of your foolish belief,
he ended up dead. Are you happy now?"
The young Takatori glares at me viciously as he spits, "We were his only
family! We only did what was best for him."
"For him, or for yourselves?" Crawford asks coldly as he walks in
with Farfarello, and I realize with a mild surprise that everyone has been cleared
out of the reception hall and sent home. The man has somehow convinced them
it will be better for them to leave as these strangers that popped in are past
friends of Aya's who have betrayed him and stuff. Such good storyteller, that
Crawford is. "Are you so jealous and blind that you cannot accept the fact
that Aya had found happiness outside of your little 'family'?"
Omi looks about to say something else, but Youji beats him to it as he roars
like a wild beast, and takes a swing at Crawford, who, living up to his code
name, merely steps aside and lets the brunette fall to the ground gracelessly.
The enraged Weiss jumps up from the ground, and rushes forward as he swings
out his piano wire, wrapping it around Crawford's neck tightly before Nagi easily
cuts the tough steel strings off.
::Somebody forgot to tell us about this...:: Farfarello sing-songs in our minds,
::Can I kill them?:: he asks, his voice filled with glee. I cannot help but
concur with his desire, which in and of itself is scary already.
::No, it will be more fun to watch them suffer in life,:: Crawford smirks mentally
as he watches Nagi proceed to toss both Youji and Omi out of the reception hall
effortlessly, the boy making sure the two Weiss land on top of each other painfully
on the gravel, perhaps with a bone or two broken for spite. Ken, who has been
standing near the entrance the entire time, frowns disapprovingly at us before
rushing to his teammates, calming them down and somehow convincing them to leave.
::You didn't have to do that,:: Hidaka projects his thought to me, a little
bit too loud for my liking, but I can tolerate him. ::They are just upset....::
::And we're not?:: I ask coldly, sending a wave of pain, hatred, and sadness
towards him, which Hidaka probably physically hissed at as well as mentally.
He makes a quick promise of trying to keep the Weiss kitties away, before shutting
down his mind, trying to sever the mental connection. I let him go without giving
him further grief, since he had tried to be helpful and is the least harmful
of them all.
Now that we are left to our lonesome, I sigh, exhaustion suddenly overwhelms
me as I sit down on the tatami floor next to the casket, letting the others
do the finishing work while I recuperate from the mental outburst. It isn't
common for me to be so absorbed in strong emotions. Amusement, maybe; resentment,
definitely. Love, only after I met Aya and got to know him, and the affection
blossomed from a trickling stream into tidal waves only the past year. Even
though I have been in love with him for the past three, four years, that love
wasn't as passionate and breath-taking as the moments I spend with him in our
little world. It was almost suffocating, the love for him, with each thought
a painful sweetness, and I am addicted to it.
And fuck anybody that tries to take that away from me.
A hand lays on my shoulder firmly, and I look up at Crawford when I notice
that the van is ready outside and we are ready for transport. Standing up with
the older man's aid embarrassingly, I shake my legs slightly to work out the
kinks and cast one last look at my sleeping lover before closing the casket
with a painful thud, and walk out the back with Crawford as Nagi carries the
white wooden bed with his powers as if it's nothing. We make a believable gesture
in loading the casket onto the back of the black van before getting into the
car, and Crawford takes his seat behind the wheels as we drive out of the town
that Aya and I have called home for the past year. We will miss them, surely,
but it's for the best if we leave. If Weiss is insane enough to use poison,
I doubt it would be beneath them to start using those around us to threaten
us.
They say it's easy to taint white with black, but it's hard to purify black
to white. How very true of that.
[Aya]
When I open my eyes and feel awake enough to keep them open, I nearly have
a panic attack from the completely different surroundings than what I last viewed
in the world. I vaguely remember being in and out of feverish and chaotic sleep
for a while, yet I wasn't that worried as I felt Schuldich's presence close
by, and if I ever had doubt, his large hand would wipe away the sweat and feed
me some water before sleep once again took hold of me. If it wasn't for the
familiar feel of calmness inside my mind to stablise me, I think I would've
leapt out of the bed and taken a hostile look at my surroundings. As such, I
sit up slowly, looking around the expansive bedroom curiously while marveling
that whomever decorated the room had elegant and expensive taste. The room is
probably at least three times larger than my little apartment, furnished with
eccentric, modern minimalist taste, with chrome and glass and smooth, silver
lines throughout. It has several large windows and a French glass door opens
up to the balcony I can barely see behind the curtains. The linen, upholsteries,
and even the bedding all scream money at me, and while it is not as bad as many
of the dark beasts we have slain in terms of taste, the elegance is enough to
make someone like me slightly dizzy as a mental calculator starts to punch in
numbers in a horrifying thought.
A chuckle drives my mind out of the swirling numbers, and I turn in time to
see Schuldich walk in with a tray of steaming food in one hand and balancing
a pitcher of cold water in another. Smiling at his awkward position in setting
everything down, I look up at him when he sits down on the chair next to the
bed and take the glass of water he hands me with a mute thanks. Checking my
mental health first while I sip the water, he moves onto the basic physical
check-up when he is satisfied that I am adjusting fine with the medicine kicking
in successfully. While I am not particularly happy about taking a cocktail of
drugs three times a day, and the constant fog clouding my senses is still a
bit difficult for me to get used to, I am simply happy at being alive for the
first time since my parents' deaths. And when he gets up to fetch the food he
just brought in, I think I can tolerate this discomfort if it means I am to
spend another living moment with him.
The porridge and soup gone, I wrestle the napkin from his hold to wipe the
corner of my lips while waiting patiently for him to explain our current situation.
Much to my chagrin, he takes his sweet time in getting the small dessert before
clearing his throat overdramatically. "Well, we're in the U.S. of A. now."
I glare at him for stating the obvious, and bite his feeding finger lightly
to hurry him up. Grinning, he picks up another whipped-cream covered strawberry.
"We're on the mountains, in a gated neighborhood. Brad installed several
security cameras around that no one knows about. Nagi worked his magic with
the computers and so this place is safer than a citadel. Then we have the Irish
dog guarding the door--- We're good." I chuckle at the sudden image he
pops into my mind of a large bulldog with Farfarello's head, barking loudly.
"And Aya-chan is down the hall, the other room on this floor with a view
to the ocean and large, open windows. You can see her later when you're feeling
better." Pausing, he smiles proudly at me, "And the medical team Brad
put together guarantees a ninety-percent recovery rate for her. They say that
her waking up is just a matter of time."
My eyes widen at the thought of my sister waking up, opening those large, deep
blue eyes of hers and smiling at me. It was overwhelming. My vision blurs when
the questions of 'How do I answer her when she asks about mom and dad?' and
'What do I explain to her about what happened in the past six years?' plague
my mind immediately, and it isn't until a large, warm hand cups my cheek and
wipes away the moisture on my face that I snap back to reality, looking up into
the eyes that I have learned to trust this past year.
"You're not alone, Love," he whispers as he leans in for a lingering
kiss, "and she'll understand. She loves you too much not to."
And they wonder why I love him so.
It took about a year before everything was settled. I realized the first day
I stepped out of the house how little and useless my language skills that I
picked up in our little apartment were and how much more I needed to learn.
It was exciting, not to mention frightening, to walk into a restaurant and not
understand almost all of the items and descriptions on the menu. Schuldich had
to explain everything to me and order for me. For a good three months I felt
like I was illiterate in this country, and I was, but slowly I was able to grasp
the language, and it becomes easier as time goes on. Schuldich is a great teacher,
surprisingly. Perhaps because he had so many experiences of cramming a language
to fluency in under a month, that he knows the best way to teach someone quickly
and efficiently. Depending on my health, which isn't as good as in the past,
we either go for a walk and Schuldich has me practice speaking with people we
meet, or we stay home and watch the television and he has me translate what
is going on while we watch. It's interesting to see the controlled patience
of the waiters when we are ordering, because it takes me four times longer than
normal people to understand the menu and to place the order.
I can't say I have completely forgiven what Omi and Youji tried to do, I just
try not to think about it. But everyday, on the dot, when Schuldich comes to
me with a large glass of lukewarm water and a handful of pills, I cannot help
but feel a bit of anger and hatred towards my ex-teammates. Farfarello has laughed
at me more than once about how I am now taking more pills than he is, and therefore
must be more insane than him. It's annoying, so I keep telling myself that seeing
Schuldich grab his gun to shoot at Farfarello is enough compensation. The insane
Irish is still fixated on Aya-chan, something that I find it horrific that I
am used to. With Nagi's research, Schuldich got the best Neurologist to actually
make house calls weekly, and Dr. Sander said that even though her treatment
was delayed, Aya-chan is looking at a full recovery. She will need physical
therapy for at least six months before she can walk without the need of support,
and Schuldich and I have been talking about converting one of the guest rooms
into a physical therapy room for her.
He spoils me too much, and I can't find it in me to complain. The happiness
and contentment that I once thought was impossible was given to me freely by
him, and I have done nothing to deserve it. After mother and father's death,
and Aya-chan.... I've only pictured myself exacting my revenge on Takatori,
the stretch of my imagination only reaches to the various ways of killing and
torturing Takatori... to make him feel the pain I feel. I know I'm not the only
person whose life Takatori ruined, but I felt... lost, after he was dead. I
didn't know what to do, how to feel, when my then-life long dream was accomplished.
It's like playing one of those role-playing video games... After the final boss,
the beautiful ending, and the screen turns black with the words 'The End' on
it. Nothing more can be offered, and nothing more was expected.
Then I realized, nothing, is a terrifying thing.
Then he forced his way into my life, gave me no choice but to accept his love,
and the bastard fucking made me love him back. The way he smiles, his lips curve
upwards at the right angle, his eyes that usually look at the world with cynicism
brighten with pure delight. How I had hated the fact that he was taller and
broader-built than me in the past, but now I cannot think of anything more perfect
than being in his arms and falling asleep with him being my protector. Suddenly,
death became the most horrifying thing instead of nothingness, simply
because I didn't want to leave him. Not now. Not yet.
Not ever.
I will kill anyone who dares come between us. Weiss, Schwartz, anyone.... If
they dare to even suggest Schuldich be away from me for more than a couple hours
at the most....
No, that's not right.... Crawford, Nagi, and I believe part of Farfarello,
would never do that.... If anything, they care for Schuldich, otherwise they
wouldn't accept me as a part of their family, right? Wait... Can I even be so
presumptuous as to think that way? Maybe they are just pretending, and when
Schuldich finds someone better than me, they will be more than happy to get
rid of me.... And why wouldn't they? There are so many people that deserve Schuldich,
he was probably out of his mind when he chose me. But... I don't want to leave
him, even when he finds someone better than me. What can I do? I---
::Aya,:: I jolt when his voice interrupts my dark thoughts suddenly, and I
look up to find him standing by the French door to the garden. He had deposited
me on the reclining bench by the water fountain earlier, after I begged and
made him take me in the kitchen. I couldn't help myself, a side effect of the
drug that I'm taking, and Schuldich is doing his best to control my occassional
sudden rage or depression while satisfying my unending lust. Not that he minds
the last part, I think. ::You awake?::
"Was I asleep?" I ask tiredly, shifting under the thin blanket that
covers my nudity. Extending a hand, I take the glass of water and the pills
from him and swallow with practiced buck of my head. Dark thoughts evaporated,
I nuzzle the hand that soothes and plays with my hair lovingly.
"For an hour," he says softly, his fingers lacing with the long strands
and brushing out the tangles without pulling or hurting me. Perching on the
arm rest of the chair, he pulls me into a half-embrace and I can feel his powers
wiping away the lingering bitter taste of depression.
Resting my head on his thigh, I sigh, "You must be tired of taking care
of me."
He chuckles, "Not really. I'm enjoying the perks."
"Perks?"
He hums, reaching into his pocket to get a ribbon and some hairpins before
starting to braid and wrap my hair into some kind of shape and attach it to
my head, making me shiver as cool air touches bared skin. "The privilege
of seeing you come to me with 'a problem'? Be the one trusted by you enough
to let me see your vulnerability... Not to mention fucking you wild with no
abandon? I'm having a blast."
I glare up at him, knowing he is pretending but can't find any argument to
diffuse his ridiculous claim. We stay like that for some time, waiting for the
drugs to kick in so I can have some energy and enjoy the afternoon sun in our
private sanctuary. Though Schuldich blocks off the nausea and mental fog that
psychotic drugs often give me, whenever the drug wears off I start to have fluctuating
moods. Sometimes I may even see things that shouldn't be there. My parents showing
up suddenly in the living room, screaming at me for not protecting Aya-chan
like I'm supposed to was the most vivid one a couple months ago. Schuldich had
to put me to sleep with his powers because I was screaming and crying uncontrollably.
But they looked so real, and their condescending voices nearly broke me. I was
later told I had knelt in the middle of the room, hitting my head on the carpeted
floor repeatedly.
Even Farfarello was shocked. I should consider that my life achievement.
Suddenly, the lust hits me again, the urge so strong it envelops me, almost
suffocating. I know Schuldich feels it too, his arm tightens while fingers stop
their stroking and travel downwards. He's permanently in my head now, helping
me cope with the mania and side effects of the pills and monitor my progress
for Nagi to keep track. It's only natural for him to feel my needs the moment
I have them.
Stretching to meet his touch, I pout and inevitably whine softly when he eludes
the most sensitive part of my body, only trailing circles and outlining my chest
teasingly. I look up at him with annoyance. He smirks, the evil kind that says
he knows what I want him to do, but he won't do it until I meet his terms willingly.
Bastard.
"What do you need, Love?" he asks oh-so-innocently, his finger tracing
closer to my right nipple, but not touching it, making my body shiver in anticipation
and need.
I growl, lacking the intensity I desire because of the damn need I feel. "You
know what."
"Yes, but I want to hear it from your lips."
I struggle against him, finding it a disappointing fact that I can no longer
just throw him onto the ground and demand my way, but rather must succumb to
his greater strength. It has its advantage sometimes, but at times like this
I just want to strangle him. He grins, and flips from where he sits to trap
me in between the chair and him, his knee just close to my shaft. "Come
on, indulge me, Lover. Say it."
Glaring up at him, who returns with an undaunted, teasing wink, I give in after
knowing he isn't likely to back down, and sigh as I look at his chest. Feeling
the insufferable heat on my cheeks, I whisper softly, hoping he can't hear it
except from the mental connection we share. "... Just fuck me already."
"As you wish, my Love." With that, he attacks the sensitive joining
between my neck and shoulder. Fingers finally take a nub on my chest in between
fingers, providing a temporary relief. The other hand slides downwards, brushing
off the blanket to grab hold of my forming erection none-too-gently. I whimper
when he twists my nipple and tugs hard on my shaft, which earns me another chuckle
before he kisses me deeply. Moaning into the kiss, I didn't realize until too
late when the cuffs clicked and I couldn't move my hands anymore. I glare up
at his grinning face, but otherwise don't make a move as he gracefully gets
off of me and reaches to the back to cuff the other end of the three-way cuff
to the chair, stretching and arching me completely. Strolling back forward,
his hands behind his back, he examines me as if a great piece of sculpture.
Licking his lips like a cat, he murmurs a quick "itadakimasu"* before
spreading my legs wide to rest on the arm rests. Sitting on the lounge himself,
he positions my hips for easy access, like a meal presented to him, and nuzzles
my healthy erection with his face. Mewling despite myself, I watch him as if
in a trance while he licks my reddened tip like a cat, savoring each lick and
enjoying my shudders. Looking up at me, he smiles before taking my entire length
into his mouth. I try to move my hand to my mouth instinctively to cover my
hitched cry, only to be rewarded with a sharp pain to my wrist. He chuckles
lowly before using his teeth to caress and tease the vein on my cock, making
me jolt and push deeper into his welcoming mouth. Damn German... why can't he
just fuck me instead of forcing me to lose control?
Large hands cup my buttocks. He soon sets a rhythm, moving my body up and down
and in and outof his skillful mouth, pushing me closer to the orgasm that is
just inches away from reach. And at the point of reaching that height, he stops
and releases me, making me whine and glare exhaustedly at him. Standing up from
the lounge, he pulls my body so I stretch long before him, my legs shamelessly
still wide open and my opening clearly presented to him. With a soft whisper
of "I love you," he pushes his length into me. Still lubed from earlier,
he fills me completely, making me sigh out in content. Kissing away the dew
on my forehead, he doesn't move until I kick him as best as I can from this
position. He laughs softly before starting a comfortable rhythm, forcing me
to let go of all inhibitions and control and submit completely to him. I think
he enjoys that fact a little bit too much.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I gasp and moan to his thrusts, feeling
him with every cell of my being. It feels right, for some insane reason, to
be joined like this, where he buries deep inside me, sharing his passion and
warmth with me. Each thrust tells me just how thankful he is that I am still
here with him, and each sound I make echoes my need and love for him, something
I still have trouble telling him verbally. Occasionally he teases me by pulling
out and rubbing the tip against my entrance, a test of will between us, and
only when I whimper in need does he push back in to satisfy me. Of course, he
is so going to pay for that later.
Eventually, his pace quickens, and I get lost in the sensation he builds in
my body. The heat becomes unbearable, the pleasure too much, and soon, blinding
light fills my vision as I cry out his name, the bite of the metal cuffs on
my wrists only pushes me over the edge and into a blissful darkness.
[Schuldich]
Unlocking the metal cuffs, I smile at the beginnings of the bruises that I
find most erotic and should be illegal to be on such fair skin. Some renegade
tears escape from his closed eyes, and I can't help but feel a wave of possessiveness
when I recall his beautiful eyes of amethyst glistening and shining with lust
and pleasure. Only I can do that.
Mine. All mine.
"Had a good show?" I ask while rubbing the mark with my thumb, kissing
his wrist and sucking on the flesh, feeling the pulse underneath. Healthy and
alive.
"Not too bad. Not rough enough," Farfarello comments while sipping
his juice, leaning against the opened French door leading to the kitchen. I
wonder mildly whether Aya had sensed him looking at us from almost the beginning.
Then again, I shouldn't be surprised if he did and kept on going.... He did
pull me into a dark alley last time we were out taking a walk and demanded to
have my cock shoved into him. Those are such sweet memories.
I laugh. "Shut up and go get me the thicker blanket in the living room."
Grabbing the thin quilt that covered Aya earlier, I toss it at Farfarello before
walking into the kitchen to moisten a cloth. He follows behind me after taking
an appreciative glance at the naked, sprawled out redhead. I don't mind as long
as he only watches. Besides, he's more into girls and currently only interested
in soiling the angel upstairs when she wakes up. I wonder how Aya-chan will
react when he pounces her?
"I don't work for you," he complains half-heartedly, dropping the
blanket on the back of one of the dining room chairs before walking to the front
section of the mansion. This place is too big for the three of us, not counting
the sleeping beauty, but it's comfortable and spacious. Not to mention completely
safe. Nagi sure went overboard when he designed the security system for this
place. Not only is it theft and natural disaster proof, but it detects all living
things within fifty-meters, identifies all suspicious people and records them
into the database. If the same figure, based on some kind of parameter that
Nagi set, appears more than once, we will get alerted and are able to take 'proper
action' when needed.
It's only happened once and the thief was never seen again. I just hope Farfarello
didn't bury him in our back yard.
Finished cleaning Aya up, I take the blanket from Farfarello and wrap my beauty
carefully. Ignoring the mocking snicker from behind me, I carry Aya and let
him take a rest on the day bed in the sun room. He has gotten pale over the
past several weeks, the new medicines making him weak and tired almost all the
time. Hopefully with some sun he can be healthier, as much as possible, and
more energetic.
Tucking Aya so he won't catch cold, I straighten and turn to the smirking Irish,
who hands me a stack of mail. I frown at the package on top, and open it quickly.
Upon seeing the contents inside, I hiss and glare up at the laughing Farfarello.
Throwing the packet of Viagra samples in his face, I wish I could have Nagi's
power so I can slam the shit harder. Even if he doesn't feel pain, the sound
would give me a satisfactory thrill after the joke he tried to pull.
"I heard on the news the other day that too much sex will render a guy
impotent," he says with amusement while tossing the packet onto the desk.
I scoff, sorting the mail to put advertisements apart from bills and other
important things. "You don't watch news!"
"So I pretend," he shrugs. "By the way, Crawford called while
you two were fucking like rabbits in heat."
"I heard. You didn't have to use the phone on the kitchen counter, you
bastard."
"The view's better there."
I slap him mentally, hard, from which he winces slightly. Even though it has
been at least three years since Farfarello started to take his medications regularly,
I'm still having trouble getting used to this calmer, saner side of him. I suppose
his obsession over Aya-chan is also a reason he hasn't left us to have his 'fun'
among the lesser populated states the past several months. Usually, Farfarello
would wait until Crawford and Nagi came to visit us, then sneak away to do his
killing. I imagine he will make one of those trips soon, his agitation at being
domestic and docile easily felt and definitely disturbing. Aya doesn't need
any more aggravations around him. Leaning over the marble counter, he plays
with the knives from the knife block and occasionally cuts himself in boredom.
I slap him again, "Go play elsewhere. Don't dirty the mail."
"There's no important mail."
"Bills are important," I say without conviction, then wave an envelope
in front of his face, "and so is an admission letter."
"Hm, Crawford says to tell Aya 'Congratulations'," he says off-handedly,
licking one particularly deep wound and sucking the blood happily. His mind
shifts towards Aya, wondering mildly how good he tastes, before I hiss and slap
him again, reminding him just whom the kitten belongs to. Grinning, he licks
the knife he cuts himself with before speaking again. "He says that Weiss
broke up. Ken's dead," he makes a quote-unquote gesture in the air, at
which I smirk, and continues, "Omi's gone to be the next Persia, and Youji's
disappeared."
I arch an eyebrow at the last bit, pondering to myself how wrong that had sounded.
The bastard is probably in hiding with Kritiker's help, no doubt. But if Crawford
bothered to mention this, that means Nagi hasn't been able to find the brunette
yet. While it seems ridiculous that we are paying attention to a group of make-believe
assassins, that only because Japan has such a low crime rate and their bodyguards
are a joke can Weiss accomplish anything at all, Crawford and I made the decision
to keep each of those kittens in check so they won't pull a stunt like they
did to Aya again. Crawford is also upset at how he never foresaw the drugging
attempt. Nobody gets past the Oracle, so he claims.
"When are the two lovebirds coming?" I ask, reading the admission
letter mumbo-jumbo with obvious boredom, quite proud of my kitten getting in
without the need of taking remedial courses for his English. I had taught him
well.
Farfarello shrugs again, adding a couple drops of his blood into the orange
juice he is drinking, making me blanch from the idea of how horrid that crap
will taste. "Didn't say. Sometime next month. I think he finally begged
Nagi to take a break from the research."
I chuckle. Crawford should be worshipping Aya. Nagi has been my kitten's physician
for a while, even though Aya also sees the Neurologist that his sister is using
just to make sure, but the little boy has been treating him for the past year.
That means they are taking more vacations to fly here to check up on Aya, which
Crawford certainly has no objections to spending 'quality time' with his lover.
It's hilarious to see Crawford leading a life of abstinence when not here with
us, since his lover practically lives in his laboratory six days a week. I almost
feel bad for him. Almost.
--- To Be Continued
Author's Mewlings: I am in awe at how long it has been since
I last wrote a chapter to this fic. A YEAR and a half?! Somehow
I was stuck with the biggest writer's block one can possibly imagine, and these
kids just refuse to work with me. T_T 2006 has been the most unproductive year
ever, and I am grateful to all of you who wrote to me and commented on my writing
LJ inquiring about this fic. I thank you wholeheartedly. *hearts*
There should be, probably, at least two more chapters with a short epilogue
before this demon will end. I have another Weiss fic planned, and I'm becoming
more active in terms of writing nowadays. I started joining fic-challenges and
whatnots since December 06, and wrote a FF8 fic and have a short Weiss fic planned
for Weiss Day challenge. Please do look forward to my writing LJ at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/pika_scribbles
for updates. ^^ Also, if you wish, please do email me at hieru.pikachu@gmail.com
or visit me on my personal LJ at http://www.livejournal.com/users/hieru ^_^
New website alert! I changed my website and my new one is called Illuminatia!
The URL is: http://www.illuminatia.net/en. I really like the layout I have right
now, but I'm not particularly sure if the table will work for me or my browser.
Somehow it's been a bit funky when I try to use it. >< I'll try to fix
it soon after this fic is posted.
Special Thanks to the wonderful Espaa for beta-ing all my
fics and asking about them, and Azuki for being my in-house lemon scene expert.
XD Azuki is also the one that helps me overcome writer's block and does research
with me in regards to the insane drugs in this narcotic-filled fanfiction. ^^;;
Love you both!
Disclaimer: The settings and characters of Weiss
Kreuz belongs to Koyasu-san and Project Weiss © I do not know these fine
gents from Japan, nor do I claim these characters are mine at all. There will
be no need for international lawsuits, since I am a flat broke otaku that just
likes to torture these characters.
Tarnished Rhapsody
Scherzo
February 2007
[Schuldich]
I stand in the back of the makeshift reception hall, gazing at the almost exaggerated,
overly-extravagant traditional Japanese funeral ceremony in front of me. Really,
with this setting, one would think that some powerful political idiot had died
instead of a show. The hall is decorated with white sashes draping off from
the beams of the ceiling, large flower displays of chrysanthemums lined side
by side, covering three walls and out the reception hall, and at the end of
the reception hall was a large casket, opened for viewing.
And my beloved sleeps in there, soundly like the dead. White roses, trimmed
of thorns, make his bed as he wears a white robe, making his blood-red hair
stand out even more so. Only those not affected by my powers, namely the Schwartz
that scattered around helping the 'funeral', could see his slow, steady breathing.
And I curse Crawford once more, vehemently in my mind.
The scene unnerves me greatly. What should be a punishment for Weiss --- showing
them that their stupidity and sick sense of 'justice' and 'vengeance' has led
to their ex-teammate's death, was decorated too close to the real deal that
it makes me shiver and pale without any acting neccesary. The casket reminds
me how close I came to losing my love, and it burns me greatly. The dread that
is associated with the crying, the sobbing, and the whispered comment of how
good people die young around the small hall only make me even more upset and
jumpy. No, this is not only a punishment for Weiss. This was also a torture
for me. Why did I agree to this?
Oh, right, because despite what public perception of me is, I'm still an idiot.
::You all right, Schu?:: a soft voice that tries his best not to sound overtly
concerned asks, and I glance over at Nagi, who is thanking yet another visitor
for coming to the funeral without looking up at me. ::Stop sending depressing
thoughts all over the world. We do have a job to do without you trying to fuck
it up.::
::Gee, I'm touched, Nagi-chan,:: I retort, and sigh mentally before I try to
avert my anxiousness by taking a peek at Aya's dream, when the service is rudely
disturbed by someone running into the hall and pushing others in front of him
away. A crazed Balinese runs in, and the room becomes dead silent as he nearly
stomps on the soft tatami-covered floor towards the casket. Blocking in front
of Aya in a protective gesture, I suddenly feel as if my suffering of seeing
Aya lying in that goddamned box was all worth the look on Youji's face. His
pupils are dilated, he has whiskers all over his face, and his hair and clothes
are messy, to put it mildly. One can easily mistake him as some homeless person
with mental problems, and that would be a very accurate description of him.
His eyes are fixed on the sleeping redhead, and one poke at his thoughts and
I retreat almost immediately.
Farfarello has met his match, I'd say.
"Not one step further," I say softly, almost a whisper, when Youji
got too close and bumped into me. The pressure to his stomach clearly informs
him of the barrel that threatens his life, and he finally looks into my eyes
as his reddened, blood-shot eyes enlarged even further. Hands on my collars,
he grips me with frightening strength as he screams, his voice hoarse and deep
and mad.
"How did he die, Mastermind?! HOW?!"
"You killed him," I say coolly, my glare equally murderous.
"You lie!"
"Don't care for the truth, Balinese?" I smirk coldly, mildly alarmed
yet amused that my feet aren't touching the floor.
"You LIE!"
A force yanks him off of me, so sudden that I almost don't catch my footing,
as a folder slaps Youji hard enough to leave a reddened imprint when Nagi looks
absolutely disdainful at Youji as he shoves the man away with his hand for show,
"See for yourself, Balinese. You killed him."
Glaring at the boy who acts so protective in front of me, the blonde opens
the file hesitantly as he reads the altered medical report that pretty much
shows everything the doctor diagnosed about Aya except for the end, which shows
him to be dead rather than alive, as I look up at the entrance where a very
shocked Ken and a frighteningly-cold Bombay watch the display quietly. Omi walks
forward to Youji slowly and takes the report from slackened hands, and reads
it carefully for any mistake or forgery. Unfortunately, the report is only too
authentic, since the best lies are part-truth, and we have imparted many truths
in that fake report.
Closing the folder with deliberate calm, Omi looks up to me with a very deadly
glare, one that even I want to flinch from, "This is a fake."
"Believe what you want," Nagi says coldly before I can speak, "but
your selfishness and self-absorbance and your twisted sense of justice killed
your own beloved Aya."
"We did what was best for him."
"Road to Hell was paved with good intentions."
Omi crumbles the folder in his hand, his words drip of poison. "No, you
were the one that killed him. Had he not been with you, Schwartz, he
would've been alive."
I scoff, amazed at Bombay's logic. And this is supposed to be the one that
carries out justice for the weak? That others are always wrong if they disagree
with his self-righteousness? And here Aya frowns everytime I mock the justice
he so dearly upheld in the past. If this is justice, then we must be angels.
At least we are not afraid of the truth. "Really? You mean living like
a corpse with no hope in life except that he might be accidentally killed in
a mission? Some nice life you provided him, Weiss. Stop pretending that you
are the only hope for him, and maybe you will see the truth for once, Omi, that
he was in pain when he stayed with you. Now, because of your foolish belief,
he ended up dead. Are you happy now?"
The young Takatori glares at me viciously as he spits, "We were his only
family! We only did what was best for him."
"For him, or for yourselves?" Crawford asks coldly as he walks in
with Farfarello, and I realize with a mild surprise that everyone has been cleared
out of the reception hall and sent home. The man has somehow convinced them
it will be better for them to leave as these strangers that popped in are past
friends of Aya's who have betrayed him and stuff. Such good storyteller, that
Crawford is. "Are you so jealous and blind that you cannot accept the fact
that Aya had found happiness outside of your little 'family'?"
Omi looks about to say something else, but Youji beats him to it as he roars
like a wild beast, and takes a swing at Crawford, who, living up to his code
name, merely steps aside and lets the brunette fall to the ground gracelessly.
The enraged Weiss jumps up from the ground, and rushes forward as he swings
out his piano wire, wrapping it around Crawford's neck tightly before Nagi easily
cuts the tough steel strings off.
::Somebody forgot to tell us about this...:: Farfarello sing-songs in our minds,
::Can I kill them?:: he asks, his voice filled with glee. I cannot help but
concur with his desire, which in and of itself is scary already.
::No, it will be more fun to watch them suffer in life,:: Crawford smirks mentally
as he watches Nagi proceed to toss both Youji and Omi out of the reception hall
effortlessly, the boy making sure the two Weiss land on top of each other painfully
on the gravel, perhaps with a bone or two broken for spite. Ken, who has been
standing near the entrance the entire time, frowns disapprovingly at us before
rushing to his teammates, calming them down and somehow convincing them to leave.
::You didn't have to do that,:: Hidaka projects his thought to me, a little
bit too loud for my liking, but I can tolerate him. ::They are just upset....::
::And we're not?:: I ask coldly, sending a wave of pain, hatred, and sadness
towards him, which Hidaka probably physically hissed at as well as mentally.
He makes a quick promise of trying to keep the Weiss kitties away, before shutting
down his mind, trying to sever the mental connection. I let him go without giving
him further grief, since he had tried to be helpful and is the least harmful
of them all.
Now that we are left to our lonesome, I sigh, exhaustion suddenly overwhelms
me as I sit down on the tatami floor next to the casket, letting the others
do the finishing work while I recuperate from the mental outburst. It isn't
common for me to be so absorbed in strong emotions. Amusement, maybe; resentment,
definitely. Love, only after I met Aya and got to know him, and the affection
blossomed from a trickling stream into tidal waves only the past year. Even
though I have been in love with him for the past three, four years, that love
wasn't as passionate and breath-taking as the moments I spend with him in our
little world. It was almost suffocating, the love for him, with each thought
a painful sweetness, and I am addicted to it.
And fuck anybody that tries to take that away from me.
A hand lays on my shoulder firmly, and I look up at Crawford when I notice
that the van is ready outside and we are ready for transport. Standing up with
the older man's aid embarrassingly, I shake my legs slightly to work out the
kinks and cast one last look at my sleeping lover before closing the casket
with a painful thud, and walk out the back with Crawford as Nagi carries the
white wooden bed with his powers as if it's nothing. We make a believable gesture
in loading the casket onto the back of the black van before getting into the
car, and Crawford takes his seat behind the wheels as we drive out of the town
that Aya and I have called home for the past year. We will miss them, surely,
but it's for the best if we leave. If Weiss is insane enough to use poison,
I doubt it would be beneath them to start using those around us to threaten
us.
They say it's easy to taint white with black, but it's hard to purify black
to white. How very true of that.
[Aya]
When I open my eyes and feel awake enough to keep them open, I nearly have
a panic attack from the completely different surroundings than what I last viewed
in the world. I vaguely remember being in and out of feverish and chaotic sleep
for a while, yet I wasn't that worried as I felt Schuldich's presence close
by, and if I ever had doubt, his large hand would wipe away the sweat and feed
me some water before sleep once again took hold of me. If it wasn't for the
familiar feel of calmness inside my mind to stablise me, I think I would've
leapt out of the bed and taken a hostile look at my surroundings. As such, I
sit up slowly, looking around the expansive bedroom curiously while marveling
that whomever decorated the room had elegant and expensive taste. The room is
probably at least three times larger than my little apartment, furnished with
eccentric, modern minimalist taste, with chrome and glass and smooth, silver
lines throughout. It has several large windows and a French glass door opens
up to the balcony I can barely see behind the curtains. The linen, upholsteries,
and even the bedding all scream money at me, and while it is not as bad as many
of the dark beasts we have slain in terms of taste, the elegance is enough to
make someone like me slightly dizzy as a mental calculator starts to punch in
numbers in a horrifying thought.
A chuckle drives my mind out of the swirling numbers, and I turn in time to
see Schuldich walk in with a tray of steaming food in one hand and balancing
a pitcher of cold water in another. Smiling at his awkward position in setting
everything down, I look up at him when he sits down on the chair next to the
bed and take the glass of water he hands me with a mute thanks. Checking my
mental health first while I sip the water, he moves onto the basic physical
check-up when he is satisfied that I am adjusting fine with the medicine kicking
in successfully. While I am not particularly happy about taking a cocktail of
drugs three times a day, and the constant fog clouding my senses is still a
bit difficult for me to get used to, I am simply happy at being alive for the
first time since my parents' deaths. And when he gets up to fetch the food he
just brought in, I think I can tolerate this discomfort if it means I am to
spend another living moment with him.
The porridge and soup gone, I wrestle the napkin from his hold to wipe the
corner of my lips while waiting patiently for him to explain our current situation.
Much to my chagrin, he takes his sweet time in getting the small dessert before
clearing his throat overdramatically. "Well, we're in the U.S. of A. now."
I glare at him for stating the obvious, and bite his feeding finger lightly
to hurry him up. Grinning, he picks up another whipped-cream covered strawberry.
"We're on the mountains, in a gated neighborhood. Brad installed several
security cameras around that no one knows about. Nagi worked his magic with
the computers and so this place is safer than a citadel. Then we have the Irish
dog guarding the door--- We're good." I chuckle at the sudden image he
pops into my mind of a large bulldog with Farfarello's head, barking loudly.
"And Aya-chan is down the hall, the other room on this floor with a view
to the ocean and large, open windows. You can see her later when you're feeling
better." Pausing, he smiles proudly at me, "And the medical team Brad
put together guarantees a ninety-percent recovery rate for her. They say that
her waking up is just a matter of time."
My eyes widen at the thought of my sister waking up, opening those large, deep
blue eyes of hers and smiling at me. It was overwhelming. My vision blurs when
the questions of 'How do I answer her when she asks about mom and dad?' and
'What do I explain to her about what happened in the past six years?' plague
my mind immediately, and it isn't until a large, warm hand cups my cheek and
wipes away the moisture on my face that I snap back to reality, looking up into
the eyes that I have learned to trust this past year.
"You're not alone, Love," he whispers as he leans in for a lingering
kiss, "and she'll understand. She loves you too much not to."
And they wonder why I love him so.
It took about a year before everything was settled. I realized the first day
I stepped out of the house how little and useless my language skills that I
picked up in our little apartment were and how much more I needed to learn.
It was exciting, not to mention frightening, to walk into a restaurant and not
understand almost all of the items and descriptions on the menu. Schuldich had
to explain everything to me and order for me. For a good three months I felt
like I was illiterate in this country, and I was, but slowly I was able to grasp
the language, and it becomes easier as time goes on. Schuldich is a great teacher,
surprisingly. Perhaps because he had so many experiences of cramming a language
to fluency in under a month, that he knows the best way to teach someone quickly
and efficiently. Depending on my health, which isn't as good as in the past,
we either go for a walk and Schuldich has me practice speaking with people we
meet, or we stay home and watch the television and he has me translate what
is going on while we watch. It's interesting to see the controlled patience
of the waiters when we are ordering, because it takes me four times longer than
normal people to understand the menu and to place the order.
I can't say I have completely forgiven what Omi and Youji tried to do, I just
try not to think about it. But everyday, on the dot, when Schuldich comes to
me with a large glass of lukewarm water and a handful of pills, I cannot help
but feel a bit of anger and hatred towards my ex-teammates. Farfarello has laughed
at me more than once about how I am now taking more pills than he is, and therefore
must be more insane than him. It's annoying, so I keep telling myself that seeing
Schuldich grab his gun to shoot at Farfarello is enough compensation. The insane
Irish is still fixated on Aya-chan, something that I find it horrific that I
am used to. With Nagi's research, Schuldich got the best Neurologist to actually
make house calls weekly, and Dr. Sander said that even though her treatment
was delayed, Aya-chan is looking at a full recovery. She will need physical
therapy for at least six months before she can walk without the need of support,
and Schuldich and I have been talking about converting one of the guest rooms
into a physical therapy room for her.
He spoils me too much, and I can't find it in me to complain. The happiness
and contentment that I once thought was impossible was given to me freely by
him, and I have done nothing to deserve it. After mother and father's death,
and Aya-chan.... I've only pictured myself exacting my revenge on Takatori,
the stretch of my imagination only reaches to the various ways of killing and
torturing Takatori... to make him feel the pain I feel. I know I'm not the only
person whose life Takatori ruined, but I felt... lost, after he was dead. I
didn't know what to do, how to feel, when my then-life long dream was accomplished.
It's like playing one of those role-playing video games... After the final boss,
the beautiful ending, and the screen turns black with the words 'The End' on
it. Nothing more can be offered, and nothing more was expected.
Then I realized, nothing, is a terrifying thing.
Then he forced his way into my life, gave me no choice but to accept his love,
and the bastard fucking made me love him back. The way he smiles, his lips curve
upwards at the right angle, his eyes that usually look at the world with cynicism
brighten with pure delight. How I had hated the fact that he was taller and
broader-built than me in the past, but now I cannot think of anything more perfect
than being in his arms and falling asleep with him being my protector. Suddenly,
death became the most horrifying thing instead of nothingness, simply
because I didn't want to leave him. Not now. Not yet.
Not ever.
I will kill anyone who dares come between us. Weiss, Schwartz, anyone.... If
they dare to even suggest Schuldich be away from me for more than a couple hours
at the most....
No, that's not right.... Crawford, Nagi, and I believe part of Farfarello,
would never do that.... If anything, they care for Schuldich, otherwise they
wouldn't accept me as a part of their family, right? Wait... Can I even be so
presumptuous as to think that way? Maybe they are just pretending, and when
Schuldich finds someone better than me, they will be more than happy to get
rid of me.... And why wouldn't they? There are so many people that deserve Schuldich,
he was probably out of his mind when he chose me. But... I don't want to leave
him, even when he finds someone better than me. What can I do? I---
::Aya,:: I jolt when his voice interrupts my dark thoughts suddenly, and I
look up to find him standing by the French door to the garden. He had deposited
me on the reclining bench by the water fountain earlier, after I begged and
made him take me in the kitchen. I couldn't help myself, a side effect of the
drug that I'm taking, and Schuldich is doing his best to control my occassional
sudden rage or depression while satisfying my unending lust. Not that he minds
the last part, I think. ::You awake?::
"Was I asleep?" I ask tiredly, shifting under the thin blanket that
covers my nudity. Extending a hand, I take the glass of water and the pills
from him and swallow with practiced buck of my head. Dark thoughts evaporated,
I nuzzle the hand that soothes and plays with my hair lovingly.
"For an hour," he says softly, his fingers lacing with the long strands
and brushing out the tangles without pulling or hurting me. Perching on the
arm rest of the chair, he pulls me into a half-embrace and I can feel his powers
wiping away the lingering bitter taste of depression.
Resting my head on his thigh, I sigh, "You must be tired of taking care
of me."
He chuckles, "Not really. I'm enjoying the perks."
"Perks?"
He hums, reaching into his pocket to get a ribbon and some hairpins before
starting to braid and wrap my hair into some kind of shape and attach it to
my head, making me shiver as cool air touches bared skin. "The privilege
of seeing you come to me with 'a problem'? Be the one trusted by you enough
to let me see your vulnerability... Not to mention fucking you wild with no
abandon? I'm having a blast."
I glare up at him, knowing he is pretending but can't find any argument to
diffuse his ridiculous claim. We stay like that for some time, waiting for the
drugs to kick in so I can have some energy and enjoy the afternoon sun in our
private sanctuary. Though Schuldich blocks off the nausea and mental fog that
psychotic drugs often give me, whenever the drug wears off I start to have fluctuating
moods. Sometimes I may even see things that shouldn't be there. My parents showing
up suddenly in the living room, screaming at me for not protecting Aya-chan
like I'm supposed to was the most vivid one a couple months ago. Schuldich had
to put me to sleep with his powers because I was screaming and crying uncontrollably.
But they looked so real, and their condescending voices nearly broke me. I was
later told I had knelt in the middle of the room, hitting my head on the carpeted
floor repeatedly.
Even Farfarello was shocked. I should consider that my life achievement.
Suddenly, the lust hits me again, the urge so strong it envelops me, almost
suffocating. I know Schuldich feels it too, his arm tightens while fingers stop
their stroking and travel downwards. He's permanently in my head now, helping
me cope with the mania and side effects of the pills and monitor my progress
for Nagi to keep track. It's only natural for him to feel my needs the moment
I have them.
Stretching to meet his touch, I pout and inevitably whine softly when he eludes
the most sensitive part of my body, only trailing circles and outlining my chest
teasingly. I look up at him with annoyance. He smirks, the evil kind that says
he knows what I want him to do, but he won't do it until I meet his terms willingly.
Bastard.
"What do you need, Love?" he asks oh-so-innocently, his finger tracing
closer to my right nipple, but not touching it, making my body shiver in anticipation
and need.
I growl, lacking the intensity I desire because of the damn need I feel. "You
know what."
"Yes, but I want to hear it from your lips."
I struggle against him, finding it a disappointing fact that I can no longer
just throw him onto the ground and demand my way, but rather must succumb to
his greater strength. It has its advantage sometimes, but at times like this
I just want to strangle him. He grins, and flips from where he sits to trap
me in between the chair and him, his knee just close to my shaft. "Come
on, indulge me, Lover. Say it."
Glaring up at him, who returns with an undaunted, teasing wink, I give in after
knowing he isn't likely to back down, and sigh as I look at his chest. Feeling
the insufferable heat on my cheeks, I whisper softly, hoping he can't hear it
except from the mental connection we share. "... Just fuck me already."
"As you wish, my Love." With that, he attacks the sensitive joining
between my neck and shoulder. Fingers finally take a nub on my chest in between
fingers, providing a temporary relief. The other hand slides downwards, brushing
off the blanket to grab hold of my forming erection none-too-gently. I whimper
when he twists my nipple and tugs hard on my shaft, which earns me another chuckle
before he kisses me deeply. Moaning into the kiss, I didn't realize until too
late when the cuffs clicked and I couldn't move my hands anymore. I glare up
at his grinning face, but otherwise don't make a move as he gracefully gets
off of me and reaches to the back to cuff the other end of the three-way cuff
to the chair, stretching and arching me completely. Strolling back forward,
his hands behind his back, he examines me as if a great piece of sculpture.
Licking his lips like a cat, he murmurs a quick "itadakimasu"* before
spreading my legs wide to rest on the arm rests. Sitting on the lounge himself,
he positions my hips for easy access, like a meal presented to him, and nuzzles
my healthy erection with his face. Mewling despite myself, I watch him as if
in a trance while he licks my reddened tip like a cat, savoring each lick and
enjoying my shudders. Looking up at me, he smiles before taking my entire length
into his mouth. I try to move my hand to my mouth instinctively to cover my
hitched cry, only to be rewarded with a sharp pain to my wrist. He chuckles
lowly before using his teeth to caress and tease the vein on my cock, making
me jolt and push deeper into his welcoming mouth. Damn German... why can't he
just fuck me instead of forcing me to lose control?
Large hands cup my buttocks. He soon sets a rhythm, moving my body up and down
and in and outof his skillful mouth, pushing me closer to the orgasm that is
just inches away from reach. And at the point of reaching that height, he stops
and releases me, making me whine and glare exhaustedly at him. Standing up from
the lounge, he pulls my body so I stretch long before him, my legs shamelessly
still wide open and my opening clearly presented to him. With a soft whisper
of "I love you," he pushes his length into me. Still lubed from earlier,
he fills me completely, making me sigh out in content. Kissing away the dew
on my forehead, he doesn't move until I kick him as best as I can from this
position. He laughs softly before starting a comfortable rhythm, forcing me
to let go of all inhibitions and control and submit completely to him. I think
he enjoys that fact a little bit too much.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I gasp and moan to his thrusts, feeling
him with every cell of my being. It feels right, for some insane reason, to
be joined like this, where he buries deep inside me, sharing his passion and
warmth with me. Each thrust tells me just how thankful he is that I am still
here with him, and each sound I make echoes my need and love for him, something
I still have trouble telling him verbally. Occasionally he teases me by pulling
out and rubbing the tip against my entrance, a test of will between us, and
only when I whimper in need does he push back in to satisfy me. Of course, he
is so going to pay for that later.
Eventually, his pace quickens, and I get lost in the sensation he builds in
my body. The heat becomes unbearable, the pleasure too much, and soon, blinding
light fills my vision as I cry out his name, the bite of the metal cuffs on
my wrists only pushes me over the edge and into a blissful darkness.
[Schuldich]
Unlocking the metal cuffs, I smile at the beginnings of the bruises that I
find most erotic and should be illegal to be on such fair skin. Some renegade
tears escape from his closed eyes, and I can't help but feel a wave of possessiveness
when I recall his beautiful eyes of amethyst glistening and shining with lust
and pleasure. Only I can do that.
Mine. All mine.
"Had a good show?" I ask while rubbing the mark with my thumb, kissing
his wrist and sucking on the flesh, feeling the pulse underneath. Healthy and
alive.
"Not too bad. Not rough enough," Farfarello comments while sipping
his juice, leaning against the opened French door leading to the kitchen. I
wonder mildly whether Aya had sensed him looking at us from almost the beginning.
Then again, I shouldn't be surprised if he did and kept on going.... He did
pull me into a dark alley last time we were out taking a walk and demanded to
have my cock shoved into him. Those are such sweet memories.
I laugh. "Shut up and go get me the thicker blanket in the living room."
Grabbing the thin quilt that covered Aya earlier, I toss it at Farfarello before
walking into the kitchen to moisten a cloth. He follows behind me after taking
an appreciative glance at the naked, sprawled out redhead. I don't mind as long
as he only watches. Besides, he's more into girls and currently only interested
in soiling the angel upstairs when she wakes up. I wonder how Aya-chan will
react when he pounces her?
"I don't work for you," he complains half-heartedly, dropping the
blanket on the back of one of the dining room chairs before walking to the front
section of the mansion. This place is too big for the three of us, not counting
the sleeping beauty, but it's comfortable and spacious. Not to mention completely
safe. Nagi sure went overboard when he designed the security system for this
place. Not only is it theft and natural disaster proof, but it detects all living
things within fifty-meters, identifies all suspicious people and records them
into the database. If the same figure, based on some kind of parameter that
Nagi set, appears more than once, we will get alerted and are able to take 'proper
action' when needed.
It's only happened once and the thief was never seen again. I just hope Farfarello
didn't bury him in our back yard.
Finished cleaning Aya up, I take the blanket from Farfarello and wrap my beauty
carefully. Ignoring the mocking snicker from behind me, I carry Aya and let
him take a rest on the day bed in the sun room. He has gotten pale over the
past several weeks, the new medicines making him weak and tired almost all the
time. Hopefully with some sun he can be healthier, as much as possible, and
more energetic.
Tucking Aya so he won't catch cold, I straighten and turn to the smirking Irish,
who hands me a stack of mail. I frown at the package on top, and open it quickly.
Upon seeing the contents inside, I hiss and glare up at the laughing Farfarello.
Throwing the packet of Viagra samples in his face, I wish I could have Nagi's
power so I can slam the shit harder. Even if he doesn't feel pain, the sound
would give me a satisfactory thrill after the joke he tried to pull.
"I heard on the news the other day that too much sex will render a guy
impotent," he says with amusement while tossing the packet onto the desk.
I scoff, sorting the mail to put advertisements apart from bills and other
important things. "You don't watch news!"
"So I pretend," he shrugs. "By the way, Crawford called while
you two were fucking like rabbits in heat."
"I heard. You didn't have to use the phone on the kitchen counter, you
bastard."
"The view's better there."
I slap him mentally, hard, from which he winces slightly. Even though it has
been at least three years since Farfarello started to take his medications regularly,
I'm still having trouble getting used to this calmer, saner side of him. I suppose
his obsession over Aya-chan is also a reason he hasn't left us to have his 'fun'
among the lesser populated states the past several months. Usually, Farfarello
would wait until Crawford and Nagi came to visit us, then sneak away to do his
killing. I imagine he will make one of those trips soon, his agitation at being
domestic and docile easily felt and definitely disturbing. Aya doesn't need
any more aggravations around him. Leaning over the marble counter, he plays
with the knives from the knife block and occasionally cuts himself in boredom.
I slap him again, "Go play elsewhere. Don't dirty the mail."
"There's no important mail."
"Bills are important," I say without conviction, then wave an envelope
in front of his face, "and so is an admission letter."
"Hm, Crawford says to tell Aya 'Congratulations'," he says off-handedly,
licking one particularly deep wound and sucking the blood happily. His mind
shifts towards Aya, wondering mildly how good he tastes, before I hiss and slap
him again, reminding him just whom the kitten belongs to. Grinning, he licks
the knife he cuts himself with before speaking again. "He says that Weiss
broke up. Ken's dead," he makes a quote-unquote gesture in the air, at
which I smirk, and continues, "Omi's gone to be the next Persia, and Youji's
disappeared."
I arch an eyebrow at the last bit, pondering to myself how wrong that had sounded.
The bastard is probably in hiding with Kritiker's help, no doubt. But if Crawford
bothered to mention this, that means Nagi hasn't been able to find the brunette
yet. While it seems ridiculous that we are paying attention to a group of make-believe
assassins, that only because Japan has such a low crime rate and their bodyguards
are a joke can Weiss accomplish anything at all, Crawford and I made the decision
to keep each of those kittens in check so they won't pull a stunt like they
did to Aya again. Crawford is also upset at how he never foresaw the drugging
attempt. Nobody gets past the Oracle, so he claims.
"When are the two lovebirds coming?" I ask, reading the admission
letter mumbo-jumbo with obvious boredom, quite proud of my kitten getting in
without the need of taking remedial courses for his English. I had taught him
well.
Farfarello shrugs again, adding a couple drops of his blood into the orange
juice he is drinking, making me blanch from the idea of how horrid that crap
will taste. "Didn't say. Sometime next month. I think he finally begged
Nagi to take a break from the research."
I chuckle. Crawford should be worshipping Aya. Nagi has been my kitten's physician
for a while, even though Aya also sees the Neurologist that his sister is using
just to make sure, but the little boy has been treating him for the past year.
That means they are taking more vacations to fly here to check up on Aya, which
Crawford certainly has no objections to spending 'quality time' with his lover.
It's hilarious to see Crawford leading a life of abstinence when not here with
us, since his lover practically lives in his laboratory six days a week. I almost
feel bad for him. Almost.
--- To Be Continued
Author's Mewlings: I am in awe at how long it has been since
I last wrote a chapter to this fic. A YEAR and a half?! Somehow
I was stuck with the biggest writer's block one can possibly imagine, and these
kids just refuse to work with me. T_T 2006 has been the most unproductive year
ever, and I am grateful to all of you who wrote to me and commented on my writing
LJ inquiring about this fic. I thank you wholeheartedly. *hearts*
There should be, probably, at least two more chapters with a short epilogue
before this demon will end. I have another Weiss fic planned, and I'm becoming
more active in terms of writing nowadays. I started joining fic-challenges and
whatnots since December 06, and wrote a FF8 fic and have a short Weiss fic planned
for Weiss Day challenge. Please do look forward to my writing LJ at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/pika_scribbles
for updates. ^^ Also, if you wish, please do email me at hieru.pikachu@gmail.com
or visit me on my personal LJ at http://www.livejournal.com/users/hieru ^_^
New website alert! I changed my website and my new one is called Illuminatia!
The URL is: http://www.illuminatia.net/en. I really like the layout I have right
now, but I'm not particularly sure if the table will work for me or my browser.
Somehow it's been a bit funky when I try to use it. >< I'll try to fix
it soon after this fic is posted.
Special Thanks to the wonderful Espaa for beta-ing all my
fics and asking about them, and Azuki for being my in-house lemon scene expert.
XD Azuki is also the one that helps me overcome writer's block and does research
with me in regards to the insane drugs in this narcotic-filled fanfiction. ^^;;
Love you both!