Weiss Kreuz, "Four, Three, Two, One," Youji/Aya, Brad/Schuldig, NC-17
No, you didn't read the post title wrong, this is, indeed, a Weiss Kreuz fic. Been awhile since I wrote one of these!
This is a double present, which I usually try not to do, but it's for both of you equally because I adore you. For the amazing writer, scribblemoose, who's had a helluva hard time lately, working on her thesis, and for the wonderful artist, Satrana, who spoils me by posting such lovely work as this. Thank you both for being so inspirational. ♥
The picture isn't worksafe, and neither is the story. Enjoy!
Note: If you can't see the drawing, it's because you're not signed in to y!gallery. Get an account and see the pretties. You know it's gotta be good if you've got to have a password to see it! ^_~
Four, Three, Two, One
by Mistr3ss Quickly
Schuldig lets Crawford fuck him, on nights like this.
Not that he minds, really; quite the contrary, he's always preferred the feel of penetration, during sex with a man. The stretch and burn and ache, the power he knows he can wield with just a nudge of his hips, a small sound in the back of his throat. And Crawford is marvelous, on top. Just as calculated and precise as he is when he fights, ruthless and brutal in all the right ways.
It's not so easy for the kittens playing in the room just down the hall. Both of them have such hang-ups, such silly little problems that would get in the way of the pleasure they can give and receive, one from the other, if only they were a little stronger, a little more stubborn.
"We're on a mission, Youji," Aya growls, when Youji comes up behind him and kisses him, probably on the shoulder. Probably standing in the bathroom, Schuldig muses, spreading his legs and rocking his hips up, just a bit, encouraging the fingertip that's just circling his ass, not slipping inside, even though it's wet enough with lube and he's horny enough to start making demands pretty soon. Aya is a bit of a waterfreak, after all. Can't stand how filthy he feels, after a mission. Even on missions where he's just collecting information or stealing data, like he and his beautiful Balinese were doing, just a few hours before.
"Mission completed, Aya," Youji murmurs, and from the internal monologue about Aya's hair, he's got to be making some headway with the hesitant man in his arms. "C'mon, it's been forever since we were alone together like this."
That whiny voice. Schuldig has no way of knowing if it's as whiny to Aya's ears as it is, projected in Aya's mind, but it sounds pretty whiny when it echoes through Youji's mind, as well-intentionally, Schuldig can taste the blonde's manipulative intent as clearly as if it were salt spilled all across Youji's thoughts-and it turns him on so hard it's nearly painful, soothed only by the press of Brad's finger into his body.
"Easy, Schuldig," the older man murmurs, working the finger in and out of Schuldig's body in a good rhythm, fast and even. Schuldig moans again and rubs his face in the pillow, moving his hips a little to ease the tickle of lust sparking up the length of his cock.
"C'mon, Aya, just a little ... just to help us sleep ..."
Honest concern, honest affection. It dampens the cheap buzz of lust, as does the thought that comes in stereo, both from Aya and from Youji, that Youji would just as happily rub Aya's shoulders as fuck him senseless, if it means Aya will sleep well. He'll jerk off afterwards, of course, to the tune of countless filthy fantasies, but still.
Schuldig pushes back onto Brad's hand and focuses on the carnal pleasure of being stretched and fingered, waits for the couple in the room three doors down the hall to stop being nauseating and go back to being delicious.
It doesn't take long.
He feels Brad's mouth on his backside, perfect white teeth sinking into the thick flesh, just as Youji's mind tells him that Aya is naked-beautifully, gorgeously naked-and climbing up onto their bed, sensual and strong. Feels Brad's fingers slide out of his body, all touch leaving him for the moment when the older man sits up and twists, grabbing a condom from his briefcase. Won't use condoms provided by the hotel-not that this is the type of hotel that provides such things, but still. Always insists on using his own.
Schuldig doesn't mind. It'd be kind of cute, really, were it anyone other than his neurotic teammate.
Youji's groan of pleasure isn't audible from three rooms away, but it's loud and clear in Schuldig's mind, the accompanying image of Aya kneeling and sucking, shallow-shallow-shallow then deep, all the way into his throat, as clear as if it were happening on the bed right before Schuldig's eyes. He groans in answer and sinks back, taking Brad's cock deep into his body, cool latex and slippery lube easing past the protests of his muscles.
Brad doesn't groan, but he exhales. Hot breath over Schuldig's shoulder, arms wrapping around Schuldig's chest tightly enough that Schuldig knows it must be good for him, too.
Then Brad's fucking him, and it's even better.
His mind fuzzes on him, just enough that the fantasy starts to taste like reality. Youji moaning steadily now, cock in Aya's mouth and hands in Aya's hair. Aya kneeling and blushing a little as he sucks, legs spread wide, exposing his tight, pink asshole, too sore for Youji to fuck him again so soon. His legs quiver just a bit-Youji's mind notices, sharp and observant even when he's getting a blowjob-and that's what Schuldig latches onto.
Quivering thighs, steadied as he grips them, as he pulls them towards himself as he sinks into Aya's body. Brad's cock sets the rhythm, keeps him from fucking the gorgeous redhead in front of him too hard and too fast. Allows Aya to suck Youji a little more slowly than the begging blonde would prefer, but it's so good, such perfect tension.
Such delicious torture.
"Scheiste," he says, when Brad takes him in hand and strokes him, faster and harder than he's fucking. Bumps the fantasy up a notch, makes him think of Aya's body, thrusting backwards, demanding more. More pain, more pleasure, more of the filthy sin Schuldig loves more than anything else in his own miserable existence.
He cries out loudly enough that Brad shushes him, when he comes. Splatters semen across the boring pattern on the grey bedcover, hot and wet and wild, Brad's fingers milking him from the root of his cock. Shudders and wallows in the feeling, in the mellow buzz that follows the sharp pleasure of orgasm, while Brad fucks him, hard and fast and desperate, as though he can't stand to be left behind. Distantly, he can feel Youji reach his own completion, but he's too tired to care if it's only in the blonde's mind that he comes in Aya's mouth, or if Aya has taken to swallowing him.
Doesn't matter. The thick cock inside his ass is what matters. The strong arms holding him close as Brad fucks him with a desperate sort of frenzy so unlike the normally aloof man is what matters.
He lets his head fall back onto Brad's shoulder when Brad comes. Goes limp enough that Brad can fuck into him, deep and dominant, for the last few heartbeats.
Aya lies on the bed, panting, while Youji strokes him. He likes to have his navel bitten. Likes having his thighs stroked. Schuldig smirks and helps Brad pull out, watches Brad pull the condom off and tie it.
"Not bad," he says, reaching for a cigarette.
Brad snorts and doesn't say anything.
"What time will they be up in the morning? Not early, I hope."
He watches Brad's pale body as the man moves across the hotel room, switching on the light in the bathroom and washing his hands.
"You'll be up before they are, Schuldig," he says when he returns. "This has done nothing to change our plans."
Of course it hasn't, Schuldig thinks, a thought private in his own mind, unlike the thoughts Aya has about Youji when Youji finally gets serious and brings him off, hands and lips and tongue and fingers, sinfully good and far more talented than Aya would prefer, were he thinking clearly. That's why you've allowed it, Brad. This time and all the others, before.
He smiles into the darkness when Brad turns out the lights and lies down in bed beside him, uncaring that Schuldig is still a mess of semen and lube, lying heavy on top of the covers he's so valiantly trying to lie beneath.
Such a little sin, but so, so worth it.
This is a double present, which I usually try not to do, but it's for both of you equally because I adore you. For the amazing writer, scribblemoose, who's had a helluva hard time lately, working on her thesis, and for the wonderful artist, Satrana, who spoils me by posting such lovely work as this. Thank you both for being so inspirational. ♥
The picture isn't worksafe, and neither is the story. Enjoy!
Note: If you can't see the drawing, it's because you're not signed in to y!gallery. Get an account and see the pretties. You know it's gotta be good if you've got to have a password to see it! ^_~
Four, Three, Two, One
by Mistr3ss Quickly
Schuldig lets Crawford fuck him, on nights like this.
Not that he minds, really; quite the contrary, he's always preferred the feel of penetration, during sex with a man. The stretch and burn and ache, the power he knows he can wield with just a nudge of his hips, a small sound in the back of his throat. And Crawford is marvelous, on top. Just as calculated and precise as he is when he fights, ruthless and brutal in all the right ways.
It's not so easy for the kittens playing in the room just down the hall. Both of them have such hang-ups, such silly little problems that would get in the way of the pleasure they can give and receive, one from the other, if only they were a little stronger, a little more stubborn.
"We're on a mission, Youji," Aya growls, when Youji comes up behind him and kisses him, probably on the shoulder. Probably standing in the bathroom, Schuldig muses, spreading his legs and rocking his hips up, just a bit, encouraging the fingertip that's just circling his ass, not slipping inside, even though it's wet enough with lube and he's horny enough to start making demands pretty soon. Aya is a bit of a waterfreak, after all. Can't stand how filthy he feels, after a mission. Even on missions where he's just collecting information or stealing data, like he and his beautiful Balinese were doing, just a few hours before.
"Mission completed, Aya," Youji murmurs, and from the internal monologue about Aya's hair, he's got to be making some headway with the hesitant man in his arms. "C'mon, it's been forever since we were alone together like this."
That whiny voice. Schuldig has no way of knowing if it's as whiny to Aya's ears as it is, projected in Aya's mind, but it sounds pretty whiny when it echoes through Youji's mind, as well-intentionally, Schuldig can taste the blonde's manipulative intent as clearly as if it were salt spilled all across Youji's thoughts-and it turns him on so hard it's nearly painful, soothed only by the press of Brad's finger into his body.
"Easy, Schuldig," the older man murmurs, working the finger in and out of Schuldig's body in a good rhythm, fast and even. Schuldig moans again and rubs his face in the pillow, moving his hips a little to ease the tickle of lust sparking up the length of his cock.
"C'mon, Aya, just a little ... just to help us sleep ..."
Honest concern, honest affection. It dampens the cheap buzz of lust, as does the thought that comes in stereo, both from Aya and from Youji, that Youji would just as happily rub Aya's shoulders as fuck him senseless, if it means Aya will sleep well. He'll jerk off afterwards, of course, to the tune of countless filthy fantasies, but still.
Schuldig pushes back onto Brad's hand and focuses on the carnal pleasure of being stretched and fingered, waits for the couple in the room three doors down the hall to stop being nauseating and go back to being delicious.
It doesn't take long.
He feels Brad's mouth on his backside, perfect white teeth sinking into the thick flesh, just as Youji's mind tells him that Aya is naked-beautifully, gorgeously naked-and climbing up onto their bed, sensual and strong. Feels Brad's fingers slide out of his body, all touch leaving him for the moment when the older man sits up and twists, grabbing a condom from his briefcase. Won't use condoms provided by the hotel-not that this is the type of hotel that provides such things, but still. Always insists on using his own.
Schuldig doesn't mind. It'd be kind of cute, really, were it anyone other than his neurotic teammate.
Youji's groan of pleasure isn't audible from three rooms away, but it's loud and clear in Schuldig's mind, the accompanying image of Aya kneeling and sucking, shallow-shallow-shallow then deep, all the way into his throat, as clear as if it were happening on the bed right before Schuldig's eyes. He groans in answer and sinks back, taking Brad's cock deep into his body, cool latex and slippery lube easing past the protests of his muscles.
Brad doesn't groan, but he exhales. Hot breath over Schuldig's shoulder, arms wrapping around Schuldig's chest tightly enough that Schuldig knows it must be good for him, too.
Then Brad's fucking him, and it's even better.
His mind fuzzes on him, just enough that the fantasy starts to taste like reality. Youji moaning steadily now, cock in Aya's mouth and hands in Aya's hair. Aya kneeling and blushing a little as he sucks, legs spread wide, exposing his tight, pink asshole, too sore for Youji to fuck him again so soon. His legs quiver just a bit-Youji's mind notices, sharp and observant even when he's getting a blowjob-and that's what Schuldig latches onto.
Quivering thighs, steadied as he grips them, as he pulls them towards himself as he sinks into Aya's body. Brad's cock sets the rhythm, keeps him from fucking the gorgeous redhead in front of him too hard and too fast. Allows Aya to suck Youji a little more slowly than the begging blonde would prefer, but it's so good, such perfect tension.
Such delicious torture.
"Scheiste," he says, when Brad takes him in hand and strokes him, faster and harder than he's fucking. Bumps the fantasy up a notch, makes him think of Aya's body, thrusting backwards, demanding more. More pain, more pleasure, more of the filthy sin Schuldig loves more than anything else in his own miserable existence.
He cries out loudly enough that Brad shushes him, when he comes. Splatters semen across the boring pattern on the grey bedcover, hot and wet and wild, Brad's fingers milking him from the root of his cock. Shudders and wallows in the feeling, in the mellow buzz that follows the sharp pleasure of orgasm, while Brad fucks him, hard and fast and desperate, as though he can't stand to be left behind. Distantly, he can feel Youji reach his own completion, but he's too tired to care if it's only in the blonde's mind that he comes in Aya's mouth, or if Aya has taken to swallowing him.
Doesn't matter. The thick cock inside his ass is what matters. The strong arms holding him close as Brad fucks him with a desperate sort of frenzy so unlike the normally aloof man is what matters.
He lets his head fall back onto Brad's shoulder when Brad comes. Goes limp enough that Brad can fuck into him, deep and dominant, for the last few heartbeats.
Aya lies on the bed, panting, while Youji strokes him. He likes to have his navel bitten. Likes having his thighs stroked. Schuldig smirks and helps Brad pull out, watches Brad pull the condom off and tie it.
"Not bad," he says, reaching for a cigarette.
Brad snorts and doesn't say anything.
"What time will they be up in the morning? Not early, I hope."
He watches Brad's pale body as the man moves across the hotel room, switching on the light in the bathroom and washing his hands.
"You'll be up before they are, Schuldig," he says when he returns. "This has done nothing to change our plans."
Of course it hasn't, Schuldig thinks, a thought private in his own mind, unlike the thoughts Aya has about Youji when Youji finally gets serious and brings him off, hands and lips and tongue and fingers, sinfully good and far more talented than Aya would prefer, were he thinking clearly. That's why you've allowed it, Brad. This time and all the others, before.
He smiles into the darkness when Brad turns out the lights and lies down in bed beside him, uncaring that Schuldig is still a mess of semen and lube, lying heavy on top of the covers he's so valiantly trying to lie beneath.
Such a little sin, but so, so worth it.