fic: Wicked ways for Lilymoon
For lilymoonwho requested Dark Crawford x Aya - Enjoy
I had to be careful with the warnings- not work safe, very not work safe.
This was meant to be a ficlet and it just grew, it's not quite a fic (it's a bit short really) but far more than a drabble so it's a fickle.
Title: Wicked Ways
Author: Seraphim Grace
Rating: NC17
Series: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: CrawfordxAya
Notes: SideB timeline
Warnings: Adult scenes adult situations
There was something incredibly sexy about the way Aya held himself at the corner of the club. His eyes were a predator’s watching the way people moved. “It’s a shame,” Chloe thought to himself, “but Fujimiya Aya doesn’t dance.” He laughed to himself. “He’s the most beautiful person here by a long shot but,” he shook his head and then emptied his glass and stood up, to attract Aya’s attention. Aya nodded once and then went on an intersect course. Chloe laughed to himself again, “only you, Aya, would treat a night on the tiles as a mission.”
He turned his attention back to the very pretty boy that was buying him drinks and he turned away from Aya, unaware that he was being diverted by the slender boy with the shattered glass eyes and the broken smile. His hair looked as soft as baby down. Chloe wondered if his skin would be as soft.
Aya saw Chloe talking to the boy, but couldn’t see him because of the crowd and Chloe’s broad back and he ignored the press of bodies around him because there were people in the club. Ken was dancing with some girl with ringlets and piercings. Free stood like a totem beside the DJ booth with a bevy of drunken women around him pawing him and exclaiming “you’re so tall.”
So Aya ignored the broad chest pressed against him, everyone was pressed together, it was normal, had he reacted it might have turned out differently. A white cloth was pressed into his face and for a few moments the world went fuzzy and then black.
He awoke in a hotel room tied to the bed face down. Naked. The sheets were clean at least but he couldn’t see anything because of the blindfold over his eyes. His mouth tasted like cotton suggesting that they had used chloroform on him. He remembered it from his training even as he wanted to kick himself for being so clumsy.
“If this isn’t the best sight in London,” An American voice said in comfortable Japanese. “Abyssinian tied and naked, just waiting.”
There was a crack of something striking flesh and Aya inadvertently flinched although it hadn’t struck him, so it was to be torture, he thought to himself, and braced himself. “Did you think I’d forget about you, Ran,” he said the name deliberately, elongating the post vocalic n, “just because you left Japan, you and I have scores to settle, don’t we, Ran?”
Crawford. It couldn’t be anyone but Crawford.
Crawford looked at the milky expanse of flesh before him, there were a few light scars but the years had faded them, to faint lines, even the terrible scar where Shion had almost disembowelled Abyssinian was now almost gone into the white skin. He had cut his hair into a shaggy red mop that framed his face and he had finally grown into those shoulders, oh yes, Crawford thought to himself bringing the bamboo cane down unto his hand a second time, he would enjoy this.
“My team,” Ran managed, still snarling like an animal, “they’ll find me.”
“No,” Crawford said, “they won’t, the blonde is entranced with our little Nagi and the other two well Schuldig made sure they saw you leave with someone, you’ll have to ask him who. No one saw a thing.” He elongated the words, watching their effect on his captive. Anyone else might have missed the shiver that passed through him. “And you’ll do exactly as I say or they’ll never get you back.” Crawford leered into the words almost like Schuldig. “and you’ll behave for me or I will hurt you.”
“Go to hell,” Ran snarled.
Crawford cuffed him hard about the back of the head. “You know what I’m capable of, Ran, we can settle this peacefully, like men, or we can leave you in a ditch.” There it was again, Crawford noticed, that frisson that shuddered through his captive. He moved the cane so it was under Ran’s neck and pulled his head back, “bound, naked, in that ditch, with my come dripping out of your ass for any one to find.”
Crawford smiled as he took off his glasses and then loosened his tie. “You owe me, Ran,” he said the name carefully, “for all that I did for you, and you’re going to pay up.”
“Go to hell,” Aya snarled again.
Crawford brought the cane down hard across his shoulders. It was like a line of ice then fire and Aya couldn’t help but cry out. “You like that, don’t you?” Crawford crooned into his ear, his breath hot and spicy, Aya could feel the weight of his body heat just above his back, “I’m not going to stop,” he whispered, “even if you ask, but you won’t, will you?”
“Fuck you.” Aya shouted.
Crawford laughed against his ear, “believe me, Ran, I will.” There was a long pause, “eventually.” He brought the cane down over the back of his thighs, “when you beg me to.”
He brought the cane down again and again, until with a loud crack it snapped over the small of Aya’s back. “Whoops,” Crawford said and threw it away. It landed with a clatter in the corner. “I’ll just have to find something else to play with.” Aya heard him take a few steps across the room and then he returned with small bottle. As he opened it the room smelt of mint and something antiseptic.
“It was Mamoru of all people who introduced me to this wonderful product.” His hands were like ice on his skin, no colder, distant, then they touched the welts on his back and they stung. “It has a myriad of uses, really, but this is one of my favourites.”
Aya’s skin wanted to slither away from his touch, it was too much, it was not enough, it was like menthol, but it was not menthol. He couldn’t help but cry out, not because it stung, but because it didn’t sting enough. Crawford’s hands felt cold and strong and Aya couldn’t help but want more. It wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t beg for this. He wouldn’t ask for more pain. He pushed himself away from Crawford’s hands, inadvertently pushing the erection he didn’t want to admit into the sheet. “uh-uh,” Crawford said and pulled his head back by his hair, “we don’t want this to be over too soon.” Then he back handed him, hard enough that Aya tasted blood. “Do we, Ran?” He used the name like a weapon.
“Not Ran,” Aya spat it out with a mouthful of blood on the clean sheet, “Aya.”
Crawford just laughed and used a piece of cloth to wipe Aya’s face clean. “We’re just going to have to find a better use for that mouth of yours aren’t we, or do you want to be gagged?” Aya went to spit again but Crawford just pulled on his hair more. “I wouldn’t if I were you, I have another cane, and this one’s aluminium.” Aya stopped.
Crawford’s finger traced his lips, rubbing the blood on like lipstick. “So very beautiful,” he murmured, “but,” he leant in again to whisper in Aya’s ear, “utterly wasted.” He pushed his thumb into the corner of Aya’s mouth and pulled his face up to the side and kissed him hard enough to bruise. His tongue almost forcing it’s way down Aya’s throat, noting how he tasted of blood and something other, the Black Russians he had been drinking perhaps.
When he pulled back he licked his lips, Aya could hear him even if he couldn’t see him as his fingers, slick with the cold oil traced along the contours of his ear, it made Aya want to buck but he couldn’t, because Crawford wouldn’t let him.
“Do you know, Ran,” Crawford said, “the secret to a good blow job,” he waited for an answer he didn’t expect, “is surrender, to give yourself over to it, to let that person fuck your throat raw. I’m going to fuck your mouth, Ran, and you’re going to let me, or I will take that cattle prod I have,” Aya could hear the smirk, “and I will insert it here,” the slick cold fingers traced the ring of his anus which was weird and not entirely unpleasant, “and set it to full.” He waited a few moments, watching Aya’s involuntary shiver, “now open your mouth.”
Aya resisted, clamping his jaw shut. Crawford let go of his hair and undid his fly, pulling out his own rather impressive erection. Aya heard the zipper lower with a steady brrr noise. “Open your mouth.” Crawford said, “you don’t know what I have to play with, and I thoroughly believe you don’t want to find out.”
Aya opened his mouth.
Crawford’s cock tasted of salt and copper and soap and Aya fought not to gag, Crawford had his hair twisted around his hand and was slowly pushing in, not because it was less painful or more protracted for the mouth he was fucking, but because he liked it better that way.
Aya was lifted so that his back arched, so that he had to scrabble unto his knees to take his weight and Crawford just slowly rocked into him, far enough that the coarse pubic hair scratched his nose and lips and he could smell laundry detergent and soap and feel Crawford’s zip.
After an unspecified amount of time, which could have been seconds or hours, Aya couldn’t tell Crawford let him go. He spat blood out of his mouth unto the sheet again because he wouldn’t have given Crawford the satisfaction of swallowing.
“Passable,” Crawford said pushing Aya’s hair up out of his eyes as he let it go. Then he stood up, Aya felt the weight and warmth leave the bed and them he heard the clink of a glass bottle against wood and then Crawford’s hands found him, they traced his muscle and then two fingers dipped inside. It was like liquid fire. It was like liquid nitrogen. It was odd but not unpleasant, it numbed and it intensified.
Then before it was pleasure but it was no longer quite pain Crawford thrust in slowly and surely and Aya cried out.
He fucked him the way he had fucked his mouth, slowly and surely without care whether he hurt him but Aya was on his knees and he had leverage, he could push back, he could force more of this thing wasn’t quite pleasure and wasn’t quite pain but could drive him mad. Crawford had the oil on his hand when he found Aya’s balls, rolling them in his palm and with a scream blacked out.
He woke up as Crawford was washing his back, making sure the welts were treated with an incredibly stinging antiseptic. “The oil’s good but this is more sure.” Crawford said and as he washed them down with cotton wool he kissed each one.
“Next time,” Aya said feeling the way he ached, “I’m kidnapping you.”
Crawford laughed against his back, “or we could just go out to dinner like a normal couple.”
Face down against the pillow Aya smiled “but where’s the fun in that?”
I had to be careful with the warnings- not work safe, very not work safe.
This was meant to be a ficlet and it just grew, it's not quite a fic (it's a bit short really) but far more than a drabble so it's a fickle.
Title: Wicked Ways
Author: Seraphim Grace
Rating: NC17
Series: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: CrawfordxAya
Notes: SideB timeline
Warnings: Adult scenes adult situations
There was something incredibly sexy about the way Aya held himself at the corner of the club. His eyes were a predator’s watching the way people moved. “It’s a shame,” Chloe thought to himself, “but Fujimiya Aya doesn’t dance.” He laughed to himself. “He’s the most beautiful person here by a long shot but,” he shook his head and then emptied his glass and stood up, to attract Aya’s attention. Aya nodded once and then went on an intersect course. Chloe laughed to himself again, “only you, Aya, would treat a night on the tiles as a mission.”
He turned his attention back to the very pretty boy that was buying him drinks and he turned away from Aya, unaware that he was being diverted by the slender boy with the shattered glass eyes and the broken smile. His hair looked as soft as baby down. Chloe wondered if his skin would be as soft.
Aya saw Chloe talking to the boy, but couldn’t see him because of the crowd and Chloe’s broad back and he ignored the press of bodies around him because there were people in the club. Ken was dancing with some girl with ringlets and piercings. Free stood like a totem beside the DJ booth with a bevy of drunken women around him pawing him and exclaiming “you’re so tall.”
So Aya ignored the broad chest pressed against him, everyone was pressed together, it was normal, had he reacted it might have turned out differently. A white cloth was pressed into his face and for a few moments the world went fuzzy and then black.
He awoke in a hotel room tied to the bed face down. Naked. The sheets were clean at least but he couldn’t see anything because of the blindfold over his eyes. His mouth tasted like cotton suggesting that they had used chloroform on him. He remembered it from his training even as he wanted to kick himself for being so clumsy.
“If this isn’t the best sight in London,” An American voice said in comfortable Japanese. “Abyssinian tied and naked, just waiting.”
There was a crack of something striking flesh and Aya inadvertently flinched although it hadn’t struck him, so it was to be torture, he thought to himself, and braced himself. “Did you think I’d forget about you, Ran,” he said the name deliberately, elongating the post vocalic n, “just because you left Japan, you and I have scores to settle, don’t we, Ran?”
Crawford. It couldn’t be anyone but Crawford.
Crawford looked at the milky expanse of flesh before him, there were a few light scars but the years had faded them, to faint lines, even the terrible scar where Shion had almost disembowelled Abyssinian was now almost gone into the white skin. He had cut his hair into a shaggy red mop that framed his face and he had finally grown into those shoulders, oh yes, Crawford thought to himself bringing the bamboo cane down unto his hand a second time, he would enjoy this.
“My team,” Ran managed, still snarling like an animal, “they’ll find me.”
“No,” Crawford said, “they won’t, the blonde is entranced with our little Nagi and the other two well Schuldig made sure they saw you leave with someone, you’ll have to ask him who. No one saw a thing.” He elongated the words, watching their effect on his captive. Anyone else might have missed the shiver that passed through him. “And you’ll do exactly as I say or they’ll never get you back.” Crawford leered into the words almost like Schuldig. “and you’ll behave for me or I will hurt you.”
“Go to hell,” Ran snarled.
Crawford cuffed him hard about the back of the head. “You know what I’m capable of, Ran, we can settle this peacefully, like men, or we can leave you in a ditch.” There it was again, Crawford noticed, that frisson that shuddered through his captive. He moved the cane so it was under Ran’s neck and pulled his head back, “bound, naked, in that ditch, with my come dripping out of your ass for any one to find.”
Crawford smiled as he took off his glasses and then loosened his tie. “You owe me, Ran,” he said the name carefully, “for all that I did for you, and you’re going to pay up.”
“Go to hell,” Aya snarled again.
Crawford brought the cane down hard across his shoulders. It was like a line of ice then fire and Aya couldn’t help but cry out. “You like that, don’t you?” Crawford crooned into his ear, his breath hot and spicy, Aya could feel the weight of his body heat just above his back, “I’m not going to stop,” he whispered, “even if you ask, but you won’t, will you?”
“Fuck you.” Aya shouted.
Crawford laughed against his ear, “believe me, Ran, I will.” There was a long pause, “eventually.” He brought the cane down over the back of his thighs, “when you beg me to.”
He brought the cane down again and again, until with a loud crack it snapped over the small of Aya’s back. “Whoops,” Crawford said and threw it away. It landed with a clatter in the corner. “I’ll just have to find something else to play with.” Aya heard him take a few steps across the room and then he returned with small bottle. As he opened it the room smelt of mint and something antiseptic.
“It was Mamoru of all people who introduced me to this wonderful product.” His hands were like ice on his skin, no colder, distant, then they touched the welts on his back and they stung. “It has a myriad of uses, really, but this is one of my favourites.”
Aya’s skin wanted to slither away from his touch, it was too much, it was not enough, it was like menthol, but it was not menthol. He couldn’t help but cry out, not because it stung, but because it didn’t sting enough. Crawford’s hands felt cold and strong and Aya couldn’t help but want more. It wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t beg for this. He wouldn’t ask for more pain. He pushed himself away from Crawford’s hands, inadvertently pushing the erection he didn’t want to admit into the sheet. “uh-uh,” Crawford said and pulled his head back by his hair, “we don’t want this to be over too soon.” Then he back handed him, hard enough that Aya tasted blood. “Do we, Ran?” He used the name like a weapon.
“Not Ran,” Aya spat it out with a mouthful of blood on the clean sheet, “Aya.”
Crawford just laughed and used a piece of cloth to wipe Aya’s face clean. “We’re just going to have to find a better use for that mouth of yours aren’t we, or do you want to be gagged?” Aya went to spit again but Crawford just pulled on his hair more. “I wouldn’t if I were you, I have another cane, and this one’s aluminium.” Aya stopped.
Crawford’s finger traced his lips, rubbing the blood on like lipstick. “So very beautiful,” he murmured, “but,” he leant in again to whisper in Aya’s ear, “utterly wasted.” He pushed his thumb into the corner of Aya’s mouth and pulled his face up to the side and kissed him hard enough to bruise. His tongue almost forcing it’s way down Aya’s throat, noting how he tasted of blood and something other, the Black Russians he had been drinking perhaps.
When he pulled back he licked his lips, Aya could hear him even if he couldn’t see him as his fingers, slick with the cold oil traced along the contours of his ear, it made Aya want to buck but he couldn’t, because Crawford wouldn’t let him.
“Do you know, Ran,” Crawford said, “the secret to a good blow job,” he waited for an answer he didn’t expect, “is surrender, to give yourself over to it, to let that person fuck your throat raw. I’m going to fuck your mouth, Ran, and you’re going to let me, or I will take that cattle prod I have,” Aya could hear the smirk, “and I will insert it here,” the slick cold fingers traced the ring of his anus which was weird and not entirely unpleasant, “and set it to full.” He waited a few moments, watching Aya’s involuntary shiver, “now open your mouth.”
Aya resisted, clamping his jaw shut. Crawford let go of his hair and undid his fly, pulling out his own rather impressive erection. Aya heard the zipper lower with a steady brrr noise. “Open your mouth.” Crawford said, “you don’t know what I have to play with, and I thoroughly believe you don’t want to find out.”
Aya opened his mouth.
Crawford’s cock tasted of salt and copper and soap and Aya fought not to gag, Crawford had his hair twisted around his hand and was slowly pushing in, not because it was less painful or more protracted for the mouth he was fucking, but because he liked it better that way.
Aya was lifted so that his back arched, so that he had to scrabble unto his knees to take his weight and Crawford just slowly rocked into him, far enough that the coarse pubic hair scratched his nose and lips and he could smell laundry detergent and soap and feel Crawford’s zip.
After an unspecified amount of time, which could have been seconds or hours, Aya couldn’t tell Crawford let him go. He spat blood out of his mouth unto the sheet again because he wouldn’t have given Crawford the satisfaction of swallowing.
“Passable,” Crawford said pushing Aya’s hair up out of his eyes as he let it go. Then he stood up, Aya felt the weight and warmth leave the bed and them he heard the clink of a glass bottle against wood and then Crawford’s hands found him, they traced his muscle and then two fingers dipped inside. It was like liquid fire. It was like liquid nitrogen. It was odd but not unpleasant, it numbed and it intensified.
Then before it was pleasure but it was no longer quite pain Crawford thrust in slowly and surely and Aya cried out.
He fucked him the way he had fucked his mouth, slowly and surely without care whether he hurt him but Aya was on his knees and he had leverage, he could push back, he could force more of this thing wasn’t quite pleasure and wasn’t quite pain but could drive him mad. Crawford had the oil on his hand when he found Aya’s balls, rolling them in his palm and with a scream blacked out.
He woke up as Crawford was washing his back, making sure the welts were treated with an incredibly stinging antiseptic. “The oil’s good but this is more sure.” Crawford said and as he washed them down with cotton wool he kissed each one.
“Next time,” Aya said feeling the way he ached, “I’m kidnapping you.”
Crawford laughed against his back, “or we could just go out to dinner like a normal couple.”
Face down against the pillow Aya smiled “but where’s the fun in that?”