Weiss Kreuz (Crawford/Schuldig)
Title: Watching Schuldig
Author: Jan toxictattoo
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 962
Summary: Only watching Schuldig mattered.
A/N: For the springkink July Spring Kink Fest, prompt: July 24 : #48. Weiss Kreuz, Schuldig & Crawford: Voyeurism - One picks up a stranger so the other can watch.
*~*~*
Nestled in the corner of the room, obscured by the drapes and light from the street as it filtered in through the open hotel window, Crawford loosened his tie and watched.
They could have done it the easy way, Crawford tucked away in another room to avoid detection, but for purely aesthetic reasons watching Schuldig fuck someone through his thoughts wasn’t near as erotic as being in the room with them. Perhaps, mostly, it was because it didn’t pass through the filter, as it were, of Schuldig’s mind.
It was there, live and real and in-his-face with sweat and groans and sex and in its purest form. His hands drifted to his lap to press against the throbbing evidence of just how fucking turned on he was.
Schuldig was grace and beauty with a masculine covering. His orange hair seemed alive, electric as it stuck to his sweaty back. Muscles moved, shifted and tensed beneath the sheen of slick skin, every thrust taking him one step closer, higher.
One hand rested on his groin, the pressure enough to keep him present while the other hand unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it away from his chest. He slipped beneath the t-shirt, hot palm pressing against the warmth of his stomach and pulling the cotton further up his body.
//Let me feel you, Schuldig,// he Prompted the telepath. With his hand resting on his hard dick, he squeezed, which almost brought a moan and destroyed the spell the two on the bed were under, oblivious to his presence. He quickly took himself out and wrapped his hand around the shaft. Slow strokes to keep up with the movements playing out on the bed in front of him, Schuldig moaned and Crawford inhaled sharply to keep a lid on his control.
He didn’t want to give it up so soon. Not yet. Not until Schuldig had come undone.
//Fucking pervert,// Schuldig Said, not unkindly, and then obliged Crawford’s request.
//Actually, I’ll be fucking the pervert, later.// Braced for the influx of sensation, Crawford sunk in the chair, his hand jacking over his cock. He arched from his seat when the first of the walls came down.
//Quiet or I’ll lose concentration and this will be over too soon.//
Before Crawford could respond, the sensation of his hand melted away to be replaced by the feel of a heated body, slicked and tight. Sweat, sex, Schuldig’s cologne mingled with cigarettes and stale alcohol assailed his senses. Moans filled his head; low lascivious sounds that reverberated within the space of his skull and vibrated down his body.
He could see, being outside the encounter, and watching hit every kink Crawford had.
The body on the bed wasn’t important. Names and faces meant nothing. It didn’t matter to Crawford.
Only watching Schuldig mattered.
Drifting now, floating on the sea of adrenaline and testosterone, the pace picked up. His breathing matched Schuldig’s which matched Schuldig’s thrusts which matched the pace of Crawford’s nothand and the coil of energy, low and tingling, wound like a serpent through their legs. It tickled and tingled, licking out to flick along neural pathways, and the urgency bled through like warm syrup until their movements were frenetic.
Crawford couldn’t distinguish what was his or what was Schuldig’s any longer and he felt as if he were shredding along his nerve endings, grasping and gasping at control long left behind. Crawford to Schuldig; Schuldig to Crawford. It was back and forth, ping-pong and each pass bolstered the next up until their need was driving the motion into orbit.
Then, a white hot flash unhinged him and it all unraveled, sending them plummeting back to ground.
“Fucking…fuck…FUCK!” Schuldig’s voice, tight and strained shouted from the bed. Throwing his head back and sending a spray of orange to slap against his skin, Crawford felt the tingle through his shoulders as the hair spread out and stuck again.
The violent shudder that shook Schuldig down through his toes took Crawford by surprise. Clenching his teeth, Crawford expressed, his orgasm stealing his breath when he felt Schuldig cut loose. Throbbing into his hand, into the body, through-with-around-in Schuldig, Crawford bit down and finally had to close his eyes, forcing Schuldig from his mind; else the feedback loop would take them both under.
Schuldig sagged against the body beneath him and he rested his forehead against the man’s shoulder, his breathing echoing harshly in the room. He lifted from the man and passed his fingers over his eyes. “Sleep and forget.”
As soon as his hand pulled away, the man relaxed completely, legs dropping off to the side and he was breathing deeply in slumber.
Pulling out, Schuldig rocked over and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed. “Well?”
“Well?” Crawford echoed the question back.
“Did that satisfy you?”
Crawford looked down at his come-streaked stomach. “You could say that.”
“I could but I want it to be right. God damn it, Crawford, don’t get cagey on me.”
“I take it, it wasn’t for you.”
Schuldig made a noise in the back of his throat. He leaned over and grabbed his cigarettes from the nightstand and lit up, inhaling deeply and then exhaling, his gaze following the smoke as it billowed up toward the ceiling. “It’s not about me.”
He stood and stretched, rising on his toes before letting his hands fall to his sides. Slowly, he approached Crawford, sinking to his knees between Crawford’s parted knees. All Crawford needed to do was lift an eyebrow and Schuldig leaned forward, his tongue snaking slowly up Crawford’s abs. He licked at the cooling come and smeared it over his lips before he lurched forward to kiss Crawford deep.
//At least, not yet. I think you owe me one, now.//
*~*~*~*~*
Author: Jan toxictattoo
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 962
Summary: Only watching Schuldig mattered.
A/N: For the springkink July Spring Kink Fest, prompt: July 24 : #48. Weiss Kreuz, Schuldig & Crawford: Voyeurism - One picks up a stranger so the other can watch.
*~*~*
Nestled in the corner of the room, obscured by the drapes and light from the street as it filtered in through the open hotel window, Crawford loosened his tie and watched.
They could have done it the easy way, Crawford tucked away in another room to avoid detection, but for purely aesthetic reasons watching Schuldig fuck someone through his thoughts wasn’t near as erotic as being in the room with them. Perhaps, mostly, it was because it didn’t pass through the filter, as it were, of Schuldig’s mind.
It was there, live and real and in-his-face with sweat and groans and sex and in its purest form. His hands drifted to his lap to press against the throbbing evidence of just how fucking turned on he was.
Schuldig was grace and beauty with a masculine covering. His orange hair seemed alive, electric as it stuck to his sweaty back. Muscles moved, shifted and tensed beneath the sheen of slick skin, every thrust taking him one step closer, higher.
One hand rested on his groin, the pressure enough to keep him present while the other hand unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it away from his chest. He slipped beneath the t-shirt, hot palm pressing against the warmth of his stomach and pulling the cotton further up his body.
//Let me feel you, Schuldig,// he Prompted the telepath. With his hand resting on his hard dick, he squeezed, which almost brought a moan and destroyed the spell the two on the bed were under, oblivious to his presence. He quickly took himself out and wrapped his hand around the shaft. Slow strokes to keep up with the movements playing out on the bed in front of him, Schuldig moaned and Crawford inhaled sharply to keep a lid on his control.
He didn’t want to give it up so soon. Not yet. Not until Schuldig had come undone.
//Fucking pervert,// Schuldig Said, not unkindly, and then obliged Crawford’s request.
//Actually, I’ll be fucking the pervert, later.// Braced for the influx of sensation, Crawford sunk in the chair, his hand jacking over his cock. He arched from his seat when the first of the walls came down.
//Quiet or I’ll lose concentration and this will be over too soon.//
Before Crawford could respond, the sensation of his hand melted away to be replaced by the feel of a heated body, slicked and tight. Sweat, sex, Schuldig’s cologne mingled with cigarettes and stale alcohol assailed his senses. Moans filled his head; low lascivious sounds that reverberated within the space of his skull and vibrated down his body.
He could see, being outside the encounter, and watching hit every kink Crawford had.
The body on the bed wasn’t important. Names and faces meant nothing. It didn’t matter to Crawford.
Only watching Schuldig mattered.
Drifting now, floating on the sea of adrenaline and testosterone, the pace picked up. His breathing matched Schuldig’s which matched Schuldig’s thrusts which matched the pace of Crawford’s nothand and the coil of energy, low and tingling, wound like a serpent through their legs. It tickled and tingled, licking out to flick along neural pathways, and the urgency bled through like warm syrup until their movements were frenetic.
Crawford couldn’t distinguish what was his or what was Schuldig’s any longer and he felt as if he were shredding along his nerve endings, grasping and gasping at control long left behind. Crawford to Schuldig; Schuldig to Crawford. It was back and forth, ping-pong and each pass bolstered the next up until their need was driving the motion into orbit.
Then, a white hot flash unhinged him and it all unraveled, sending them plummeting back to ground.
“Fucking…fuck…FUCK!” Schuldig’s voice, tight and strained shouted from the bed. Throwing his head back and sending a spray of orange to slap against his skin, Crawford felt the tingle through his shoulders as the hair spread out and stuck again.
The violent shudder that shook Schuldig down through his toes took Crawford by surprise. Clenching his teeth, Crawford expressed, his orgasm stealing his breath when he felt Schuldig cut loose. Throbbing into his hand, into the body, through-with-around-in Schuldig, Crawford bit down and finally had to close his eyes, forcing Schuldig from his mind; else the feedback loop would take them both under.
Schuldig sagged against the body beneath him and he rested his forehead against the man’s shoulder, his breathing echoing harshly in the room. He lifted from the man and passed his fingers over his eyes. “Sleep and forget.”
As soon as his hand pulled away, the man relaxed completely, legs dropping off to the side and he was breathing deeply in slumber.
Pulling out, Schuldig rocked over and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed. “Well?”
“Well?” Crawford echoed the question back.
“Did that satisfy you?”
Crawford looked down at his come-streaked stomach. “You could say that.”
“I could but I want it to be right. God damn it, Crawford, don’t get cagey on me.”
“I take it, it wasn’t for you.”
Schuldig made a noise in the back of his throat. He leaned over and grabbed his cigarettes from the nightstand and lit up, inhaling deeply and then exhaling, his gaze following the smoke as it billowed up toward the ceiling. “It’s not about me.”
He stood and stretched, rising on his toes before letting his hands fall to his sides. Slowly, he approached Crawford, sinking to his knees between Crawford’s parted knees. All Crawford needed to do was lift an eyebrow and Schuldig leaned forward, his tongue snaking slowly up Crawford’s abs. He licked at the cooling come and smeared it over his lips before he lurched forward to kiss Crawford deep.
//At least, not yet. I think you owe me one, now.//
*~*~*~*~*