FIC: 071. Kink
Title: 071. Kink
Author: newtypeshadow
Beta: arcanelight
Pairing: Ran/Schuldig
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: light BDSM, language
Notes: Written for the slash_me_twice challenge (table here). X-posted to ayaxschuldig and wk_fiction.
He has killed five people in the past week. Hunted them down and shot them, or sliced them to pieces, or driven them to suicide-a different death for each, because he doesn’t want to have an M.O. for Estet to figure out and trace back to him. He has bought himself and Ran a year or so of freedom with this week away from home, and now he wants nothing more than to collapse into bed and feel Ran’s body beside him, a presence he can trust and a person he cares enough about to kill for. Someone he feels for that isn’t himself.
But trudging up the steps of the apartment building, he can hear the busy minds getting ready for bed, and he wants to scream. He hates cities some nights because he can’t block out the noise of so many minds, and tonight is one of those nights. He has been immersed in the minds of men he wants to kill for all of his waking hours for the past nine days. He is sick and fucking tired of other peoples’ loud thoughts. He wants silence, and barring that, he wants only Ran’s mind close to his, Ran’s familiar honey taste and Ran’s ability to mute his thoughts so that Schuldig can sleep easy. Well, easier.
But the apartment feels empty when Schuldig gets to the door, and he thinks if he were more prone to tantrums, he would start screaming. Ran knew he was coming home tonight-he called ahead from the fucking taxi. Schuldig twists the key viciously in the lock, thinking he should be happy that he’ll have the silence he thought he wanted, but realizing now he just wants Ran, noise and all. He slips into the apartment, out of the glare of the greasy hallway lights, and kicks the door closed.
The blinds are shut and the lights are off. Good riddance to the street lamps. Annoying, think-they-can-out-shine-the-sun little fucks. Make it easier to sleep, at least, if the shades are drawn in the bedroom, too. Schuldig drops his small duffel just inside the door and kicks it shut, digging out his phone as he searches for the light switch, and then speed dials Ran and wonders if he’s really too tired to even find a fucking light switch.
Ran’s phone rings in his ear, and then Schuldig hears the echo somewhere in the apartment.
The light switch is taped over. What the fuck is Ran planning this time? “I don’t want to fucking play games tonight,” Schuldig snarls, flipping his phone shut and dropping it onto his duffle. He rips off the tape and crumples it into a ball. But when he reaches for the light, a hand stops his.
“Do you trust me?” comes Ran’s voice from just over his shoulder. He sounds so sexy when he’s being serious, and Schuldig almost forgets for a moment that he is tired, and that he wants to shoot Ran in the kneecap for playing fucking games when he knew Schuldig would be tired when he got home.
Schuldig sighs. “Yes, I trust you, now-I’m tired. Turn on the light and quit playing games. I’m not in the mood.”
Ran pulls him back a step until Schuldig’s body is flush against his. “Trust me,” he whispers, nipping Schuldig’s neck, and Schuldig grumbles but acquiesces because Ran’s ideas are always good when it comes to Schuldig, and anyway, he can always tell Ran to fuck off and let him go to bed.
Ran’s hands disappear from Schuldig’s shoulders, and Schuldig turns his head in confusion. And then his bandanna is untied and pulled off, and something else is covering his eyes.
A blindfold.
Elastic straps snap gently around the back of his head, and Schuldig’s eyes are covered by something soft, silky, but with a layer of padding when he feels it with his fingers. It extends to his eyebrows and cheeks, and Schuldig thinks it’s probably a sleep mask. He’s glad the lights are off-sleep masks really aren’t sexy.
He chuckles at that thought. “Is this a-”
Ran clears his throat, and Schuldig shuts up and waits with a grin on his face.
Ran’s tone of voice wipes that grin right off. “If you speak or make noise without permission, you will be punished.” What? “If you ask questions, we stop. If you protest, we stop. If you don’t follow instructions, we stop.”
Schuldig’s mind is reeling, but when Ran says, “Do you understand,” he hears himself say “Yes” and thinks he might even have nodded.
He wants to ask how he can’t hear Ran’s thoughts, ask about how he has suddenly realized he can’t hear anyone’s thoughts in the building anymore, and how such silence is even possible, but he remembers the rules just as he’s about to ask his question, and stops his tongue.
Ran moves Schuldig a few steps into the room, and Schuldig hears the door locks turning and cracking into place. And then Ran is behind him, arms wrapped around Schuldig and deftly unbuttoning his overcoat, hair brushing Schuldig’s ear and chin resting just behind Schuldig’s shoulder. Schuldig moves to help, but Ran slaps his hands away. Schuldig smiles and lets him do the work then, because this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, this strange and bizarrely romantic form of care. The coat slides off and then comes the sound of Ran padding away on the linoleum by the door to the coat rack. Ran returns and Schuldig hears him crouch at his feet. His laces are tugged, his knees raised slightly, and his shoes and socks removed. Schuldig fancies he can smell his feet, and is momentarily self-conscious. But such embarrassment is silly in light of all the bloody wounds and sweaty messes he and Ran have seen each other through.
Ran stands and pads away and Schuldig feels vulnerable in the dark, alone with his mind for company and the thoughts he knows can only be his. He wants to know where Ran went-the bedroom? the bathroom?-and he wants Ran to come back and tell him what the game is. The rules sound like bondage, but that’s not Ran’s thing. So the blindfold will probably be taken off when he gets to the bedroom, and things’ll go on like usual. They’ll fuck and sleep, and Schuldig will wake up in the morning with the usual noise.
But part of him wants that not to happen. The idea of Ran taking control is enticing, though Schuldig will never tell him so.
That thought stops abruptly when a light comes on to his right-he thinks. He can’t see through the blindfold, but the space above and below are letting in a little bit of light, and Schuldig is sure that sound was the bedroom light coming on, or a lamp in that direction.
Ran returns, takes Schuldig’s hands and tugs. Schuldig is in the dark, and Ran expects him to walk. Schuldig wants to tell Ran this is fucking stupid-he can’t see. But then the game will be over, and Schuldig doesn’t want to ruin the surprise without knowing what it is first. But after a few hesitant steps, Schuldig realizes maybe he has trust issues, because every step he takes is shorter than the last, and he knows this place like the back of his hand, knows that Ran is trying to lead him to the bedroom, but Schuldig’s hands are getting sweaty even though Ran’s are reassuringly dry, and Schuldig’s afraid he’s going to hit the phantom shapes behind the eye mask. He opens his eyes wide through the mask, as though he’ll be able to see. The carpet, soft and grainy beneath his bare feet, taunts him. Ran’s sure hands and careful steps taunt him.
But he doesn’t ask questions. Because he can do this, he can fucking walk to the bedroom behind Ran, and Ran will damn well make it worth his while, he knows that as surely as he knows Ran’s hair is naturally the color of blood, and Ran’s eyes are the color of violets on a sunny day, and Ran is natural born Japanese but looks as much like a gaijin as Schuldig does.
Ran must realize at some point that Schuldig’s steps are too small to get them anywhere, because then the pressure stops, and lips meet Schuldig’s, slowly and softly. Schuldig kisses back, gripping Ran’s hands with his own, I don’t want to do this in the desperate press of his lips.
And Ran tugs again, but their lips are joined and Schuldig will follow Ran anywhere like this, fucking cheater, and before Schuldig knows it he’s walking, following the retreating lips, pressing them farther back as the steps take them toward the hall, turn them into the bedroom.
Ran stops them and his lips are gone, and a door closes behind Schuldig, the bedroom door. The light must be from here then. Schuldig makes himself close his eyes, because this is Ran’s game and Ran knows what he’s doing, even if Schuldig doesn’t.
Schuldig can be led.
…Besides, he can always stop them if he wants. Ran said so. And Ran doesn’t lie about important things.
Schuldig trusts him that far. He trusts Ran more than anyone.
Ran kisses him again, leads him forward a few steps, and then says, “Don’t move.”
Schuldig shivers. Blinks his eyes open, and then closes them. Ran steps away. Schuldig’s shirt is unbuttoned, peeled off his shoulders. It is not done sensually, and yet still the hair on the back of Schuldig’s neck rises. He is naked from the waist up, and his hair drags across his shoulder-blades, and the cool air whispers across his back like Ran’s kisses. Ran pulls down his pants and Schuldig steps carefully out of them and hopes this is ok, that he is moving to help. Ran doesn’t object to the lifting of his legs, and Schuldig hears the tossing of his clothing onto the floor. He wants to object; Ran doesn’t treat his clothes badly, so why should he throw Schuldig’s around, even if they’re dirty and Schuldig wants nothing more than to burn them?
Ran must sense his annoyance, for a hand brushes across Schuldig’s cheek, a tiny caress. Schuldig realizes now that he is naked and Ran’s hands are on him. He almost steps forward, into Ran, but remembers his instructions and stays still. Ran’s fingers slide down to his mouth, skimming his lower lip, and Schuldig’s mouth opens slightly, wanting that finger.
But Ran doesn’t slide it inside. Just taps his lip once, fucking tease. Schuldig can feel his cock waking up now, and goosebumps flood his arms when Ran steps away from him and he hears the telltale sign of a zipper. Fabric crushes against itself, is shucked off, and then a softer sound of fabric, and Schuldig is sure now that Ran is naked, just stripped in front of him. And he couldn’t fucking see it except in his mind’s eye, his own mind’s eye, and the anticipation is killing him now, stronger than fear, because Ran is completely in charge and Schuldig is ok with that-more than that, he wants it. He can imagine Ran’s arms as they stretched above his head-he takes off his shirts by pulling up the sides and whipping them over his head, so the shirts ends up inside-out when he’s not careful. But Ran is always careful, and Schuldig can just see him checking the shirt before he tosses it on the floor, picks up his pants and makes sure they land neatly on top of the shirt. He can see Ran as he steps toward him, and the touch on his wrist that pulls him forward and to the right, toward the bed, is electrifying.
This is the time he would whip off the mask and see, touch. This is the time he would throw off the mask and tackle Ran and make him scream as he fucked him raw. But he knows tonight he won’t get Ran unless Ran tells him it’s ok. Tonight he’ll need permission. Tonight he won’t even get to beg unless he’s told that it’s ok. In some ways that’s the hottest part: Ran taking charge, dominating him, and being unreadable and unreachable. Schuldig is subject to the whims of someone who he knows will take care of him.
It’s reassuring; it shakes his chest. It squeezes his heart.
Ran’s hand is hot on his wrist as he tugs, and then turns and pushes Schuldig to the bed. His knees hit the sheets-the blankets aren’t there. Schuldig climbs up onto the bed and when Ran says, “Lie on your back,” Schuldig does and his cock swings heavy between his legs as he gets in position. Schuldig hears the bedside drawer open and something heavy drops onto the bedside table. And then something else, and then more rifling through the drawer. A metallic clink, and the drawer closes.
The bed dips toward the table, Ran sitting, and Ran spreads Schuldig’s legs and light fingers stroke his thighs, a butterfly kiss that lasts a mile. Schuldig breathes out his pleasure through his nose because anything that comes out his mouth might be a noise, and he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to make noises, but now he can’t remember.
Warmth on his the head of his cock, Ran’s fucking mouth fucking God that feels good-and a cool touch at the base of his cock, running carefully up his balls, what feels like leather, and then snap-snap-snap is that a fucking cock ring? His balls are tugging down now, oddly snug, and his cock doesn’t hurt, just feels tighter somehow.
“Does this hurt?” Ran asks. It’s phrased as a question, but there’s no inflection in his voice.
Schuldig shakes his head against the pillow and breathes hard through his nose. “No.”
Ran’s touch, his shadow of weight, disappears, and the bed shifts, and shifts again. A cap opens and Schuldig wonders if Ran is going to fuck himself on Schuldig’s cock-God, that’s always hot. But the blindfold needs to come off for that.
The sound of liquid squeezed out of a bottle, the soft scent of vanilla. Slick hands touch Schuldig’s chest and rub in wide circles, up to his neck and then down his sides and slowly circle in. Schuldig moans in appreciation-involuntarily, totally not his fault-and the hands leave entirely. Schuldig winces. Dammit!
He breathes, counts his breaths and waits to hear what the sound of Ran’s punishment will be. He wonders if it’s anything worse than this terrible silence, this anticipation of the next touch and the wondering if it will come.
When it does, Schuldig has breathed out forty times, and his fingers are curled slightly on the sheets because he is tired and he wants Ran’s fucking hands on him but he can’t talk and so he tenses his hands because he can’t tense anything else. Warm hands touch his chest again, circling his nipples but primarily working his muscles. Ran moves to his arms, first the left then the right. Palms, fingers. Slide up to his neck and then his face.
When Ran starts on his thighs though, first with light pressure and then harder, Schuldig groans. He can’t help it-the sound just bursts out of him. He is so relaxed he doesn’t realize the sound came from him until Ran stops, and the weight on the bed shifts. Schuldig thinks, Not again, and then something hard slaps his thigh with a sound like a whip cracking.
He jumps. He is blind, he was relaxed, and he just got fucking paddled on his upper thigh and it’s perfectly natural that he yelped.
Crack!
This time he bites his lip to keep the sound in. After a waiting silence, the hands start up again on Schuldig’s thigh, slick and hard, and then start in on the other thigh. All the while, Schuldig feels the fading sting and wonders if it will leave a mark he can touch in the morning, see in the mirror. A mark that only he will know is there, and that Ran will accidentally press up against tomorrow, or press against on purpose to remind Schuldig that he belongs to someone, and that someone is Ran.
The weight on the bed shifts and suddenly Ran’s mouth closes over Schuldig’s own, and an oily fist closes around Schuldig’s cock. Schuldig positively screams into Ran’s mouth, can’t fucking help it that he’s almost crying because it feels so fucking good, and Ran, without missing a beat, picks up the strap and slaps Schuldig’s thigh with it, the oil making it slide and sting, and Schuldig hopes to God a welt will be there tomorrow, can almost see it in his mind’s eye, pink and raised and going to bruise, white against his pushing, remembering fingers.
And Schuldig wants to touch but can’t because Ran hasn’t let him, hasn’t said Touch Me, and he’s not allowed to touch unless Ran gives permission. His hands are fisting the bed sheets where Ran left them, spread out over the tortured fabric as he squeezes and claws for better purchase. Schuldig thinks he might come.
And then Ran’s lips slide away and Schuldig is left with nothing.
He feels skin, thighs, those are thighs and knees pressed against his ribcage. Ran is straddling him. Schuldig can feel the phantom weight, smell the musky scent of cock, of semen leaking, and his mouth waters. He licks his lips, and one of Ran’s dark chuckles, the kind that last a short breath, colors the air. “Open your mouth,” Schuldig hears, and he does because he knows what’s coming, he can do this, he can make Ran explode the way he wants to so bad-
Ran’s cock shoves into Schuldig’s mouth and Ran says “Suck it.” He growls it, and Schuldig is overjoyed to be doing something besides laying there and taking it, silently screaming and wanting to come all over Ran’s face. Ran is hard in his mouth and Schuldig wants to take control, but Ran won’t even give him that, just fucks his mouth raw, in and out, in and out, and Schuldig has to try to keep up, has to open wide and slide lips over teeth and not move because Ran is doing all the work, thrusting in, ripping out. Schuldig is glad his gag-reflex is non-existent because this kind of torture could bring tears to his eyes and teeth drawn down and just end badly. Schuldig feels used, and the thrill is impossibly huge.
He wonders if he could come from just this.
And Ran then stops, and Schuldig whimpers because he’s got nothing again, no cock, just the touch of calves against his sides.
A hand comes down hard on his thigh, and Schuldig wonders how Ran stretched back, and thinks it’s a hot image, like the handprint burning into his thigh, five fingers and a palm singing sweet pain into his blood.
And then Ran says “Lie on your stomach” and Schuldig wonders if the massage will continue. If Ran will notice him thrusting into the mattress. His balls are tight, and his cock is full and heavy, sliding against the sheets in leaking pre-cum and pressing hot against his stomach as he lies back down, head in his arms and half his face pressed into the pillow, waiting. Ran pulls his ass up into the air and Schuldig is practically on his knees, open and waiting, and hoping Ran will fuck him-not that Ran ever has. Not that they’ve ever discussed it. Not that Schuldig’s ever asked.
Slick tongue hot against his balls, sucking on one and then the other, explosions that start there and wind up behind Schuldig’s eyes by way of his electrified spine. And then the tongue slides back, back and up, and Ran is rimming him, fucking rimming his asshole and Schuldig wonders if he likes the taste, if when Ran spreads his cheeks he can tell by the way Schuldig is quivering that he is begging without words to be fucked by something, anything.
And tonight Ran is the telepath. His tongue thrusts into Schuldig’s ass and Schuldig screams into the pillow, he’s a pillow-biter and that’s funny, and his hands fist the pillow and he wants to die of happiness, of sheer full-body lust right now, but he can’t because there’s a cock ring, he can’t even control when he comes, and that’s fucking depressing and fucking amazing. He can’t hear anything in his head, he can’t hear anything but himself, and he can’t feel anything but what Ran lets him feel, and that makes him overwhelmingly happy, that he can let go and still be safe.
And then slick fingers slide in and he tenses because Ran’s never been on top before except with women, and because Schuldig’s not been on bottom for years no matter how much he secretly likes it. But Ran is stretching him and slicking him and pushing his cock into him like a pro, and Schuldig wonders crazily if he’s been practicing or if he’s just a natural born sex god. And then Ran’s fucking inside him, all the way to the root, and it’s a familiar burn but not one that is particularly unpleasant once he starts moving. And then Ran hits that spot that’s so good, the tripwire in a minefield of nerves, that Schuldig screams again and Ran smacks his ass hard, and Schuldig pushes back just as hard because he can’t help it, and because it all borders on pain and he’s higher than fucking God right now and Ran is taking him there.
At first Ran only hits that sweet spot sometimes. And then he fucking rams it every time, and Schuldig’s hissing his screams into the pillow, fingers curled around the sheets and face buried in the pillow. Ran’s stroking Schuldig’s cock and panting against his back, the first noises Schuldig hears from Ran that aren’t spoken orders, and Schuldig starts panting too, through his gritted teeth, and every grunt and moan he accidentally utters brings down a slap from the hand not gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise. Ran’s left hand is gripping him hard, pulling, pulling, and Schuldig wails into the pillow and wants to come, wants to beg to come, but he’s not allowed to speak, not allowed to talk even though he’s screaming bloody murder now. And then Ran starts thrusting frantically and reaches down to the base of Schuldig’s cock. A snap like a gunshot and Schuldig is fucking coming all over himself, all over Ran’s hand, splashing his chest and his sheets and his chin, and Ran’s hand is gone and Ran, oh God he can feel Ran coming inside him, the wet splash distantly felt through a haze of sensation.
Ran sighs and pants over him, sweaty forehead pressed against Schuldig’s sweaty back, and they breathe together, balanced precariously on a bed Schuldig half wishes would squeak to match the quaking of his heart.
Schuldig’s heart is still pounding harder than in recent or distant memory when Ran pulls out. His weight disappears from the bed, but Schuldig is panting and too overwhelmed to wonder why sinking into the bed is suddenly possible. Then he feels a warm cloth wiping the come from his body, and hands removing the cock ring with careful movements from his softening cock and balls. That’s when he realizes Ran isn’t in the bed. He understands this with a clarity he feels only when extremely drunk. He also understands that he is still blindfolded even though his eyes feel strained. He realizes he has been open-eyed and staring into black for a long time. He wonders why he can’t just close his eyes sometimes. Ran moves some things from the bed, turns a switch that must be the lamp, and climbs into bed beside Schuldig. He pulls up the covers around them and tucks Schuldig in up to the back of his neck. Then he carefully removes the blindfold and tugs Schuldig against him.
Something clicks in the dark, and Ran puts whatever it was on the nightstand. And then Schuldig can hear Ran’s thoughts again, quiet and content. Hopeful. Schuldig moans happily and snuggles against him, tangling a leg between Ran’s calves. He doesn’t say anything. Just touches Ran’s face gently, then presses up hard and kisses him for all he’s worth. Ran chuckles into the kiss and wraps his arms around Schuldig. He yawns a kitten sound, and is soon asleep.
Schuldig listens to his dreaming thoughts and the beating of his heart. He counts the beats because thinking is too difficult, and he loses count because he’s too tired to think straight. But drifting off, he can feel that more-than-affection in Ran’s thoughts that made him offer his hand on a New York City corner as Ran slumped against a mailbox, bleeding out. And once more, Schuldig knows that killing five men in nine days for a little bit of safety, a little bit more peace, is necessary.
This is what he’s protecting.
~*~
Notes2:
leather cock and ball harness with chrome snaps
leather strap paddle that leaves the word “SLUT” imprinted on the body
Author: newtypeshadow
Beta: arcanelight
Pairing: Ran/Schuldig
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: light BDSM, language
Notes: Written for the slash_me_twice challenge (table here). X-posted to ayaxschuldig and wk_fiction.
He has killed five people in the past week. Hunted them down and shot them, or sliced them to pieces, or driven them to suicide-a different death for each, because he doesn’t want to have an M.O. for Estet to figure out and trace back to him. He has bought himself and Ran a year or so of freedom with this week away from home, and now he wants nothing more than to collapse into bed and feel Ran’s body beside him, a presence he can trust and a person he cares enough about to kill for. Someone he feels for that isn’t himself.
But trudging up the steps of the apartment building, he can hear the busy minds getting ready for bed, and he wants to scream. He hates cities some nights because he can’t block out the noise of so many minds, and tonight is one of those nights. He has been immersed in the minds of men he wants to kill for all of his waking hours for the past nine days. He is sick and fucking tired of other peoples’ loud thoughts. He wants silence, and barring that, he wants only Ran’s mind close to his, Ran’s familiar honey taste and Ran’s ability to mute his thoughts so that Schuldig can sleep easy. Well, easier.
But the apartment feels empty when Schuldig gets to the door, and he thinks if he were more prone to tantrums, he would start screaming. Ran knew he was coming home tonight-he called ahead from the fucking taxi. Schuldig twists the key viciously in the lock, thinking he should be happy that he’ll have the silence he thought he wanted, but realizing now he just wants Ran, noise and all. He slips into the apartment, out of the glare of the greasy hallway lights, and kicks the door closed.
The blinds are shut and the lights are off. Good riddance to the street lamps. Annoying, think-they-can-out-shine-the-sun little fucks. Make it easier to sleep, at least, if the shades are drawn in the bedroom, too. Schuldig drops his small duffel just inside the door and kicks it shut, digging out his phone as he searches for the light switch, and then speed dials Ran and wonders if he’s really too tired to even find a fucking light switch.
Ran’s phone rings in his ear, and then Schuldig hears the echo somewhere in the apartment.
The light switch is taped over. What the fuck is Ran planning this time? “I don’t want to fucking play games tonight,” Schuldig snarls, flipping his phone shut and dropping it onto his duffle. He rips off the tape and crumples it into a ball. But when he reaches for the light, a hand stops his.
“Do you trust me?” comes Ran’s voice from just over his shoulder. He sounds so sexy when he’s being serious, and Schuldig almost forgets for a moment that he is tired, and that he wants to shoot Ran in the kneecap for playing fucking games when he knew Schuldig would be tired when he got home.
Schuldig sighs. “Yes, I trust you, now-I’m tired. Turn on the light and quit playing games. I’m not in the mood.”
Ran pulls him back a step until Schuldig’s body is flush against his. “Trust me,” he whispers, nipping Schuldig’s neck, and Schuldig grumbles but acquiesces because Ran’s ideas are always good when it comes to Schuldig, and anyway, he can always tell Ran to fuck off and let him go to bed.
Ran’s hands disappear from Schuldig’s shoulders, and Schuldig turns his head in confusion. And then his bandanna is untied and pulled off, and something else is covering his eyes.
A blindfold.
Elastic straps snap gently around the back of his head, and Schuldig’s eyes are covered by something soft, silky, but with a layer of padding when he feels it with his fingers. It extends to his eyebrows and cheeks, and Schuldig thinks it’s probably a sleep mask. He’s glad the lights are off-sleep masks really aren’t sexy.
He chuckles at that thought. “Is this a-”
Ran clears his throat, and Schuldig shuts up and waits with a grin on his face.
Ran’s tone of voice wipes that grin right off. “If you speak or make noise without permission, you will be punished.” What? “If you ask questions, we stop. If you protest, we stop. If you don’t follow instructions, we stop.”
Schuldig’s mind is reeling, but when Ran says, “Do you understand,” he hears himself say “Yes” and thinks he might even have nodded.
He wants to ask how he can’t hear Ran’s thoughts, ask about how he has suddenly realized he can’t hear anyone’s thoughts in the building anymore, and how such silence is even possible, but he remembers the rules just as he’s about to ask his question, and stops his tongue.
Ran moves Schuldig a few steps into the room, and Schuldig hears the door locks turning and cracking into place. And then Ran is behind him, arms wrapped around Schuldig and deftly unbuttoning his overcoat, hair brushing Schuldig’s ear and chin resting just behind Schuldig’s shoulder. Schuldig moves to help, but Ran slaps his hands away. Schuldig smiles and lets him do the work then, because this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, this strange and bizarrely romantic form of care. The coat slides off and then comes the sound of Ran padding away on the linoleum by the door to the coat rack. Ran returns and Schuldig hears him crouch at his feet. His laces are tugged, his knees raised slightly, and his shoes and socks removed. Schuldig fancies he can smell his feet, and is momentarily self-conscious. But such embarrassment is silly in light of all the bloody wounds and sweaty messes he and Ran have seen each other through.
Ran stands and pads away and Schuldig feels vulnerable in the dark, alone with his mind for company and the thoughts he knows can only be his. He wants to know where Ran went-the bedroom? the bathroom?-and he wants Ran to come back and tell him what the game is. The rules sound like bondage, but that’s not Ran’s thing. So the blindfold will probably be taken off when he gets to the bedroom, and things’ll go on like usual. They’ll fuck and sleep, and Schuldig will wake up in the morning with the usual noise.
But part of him wants that not to happen. The idea of Ran taking control is enticing, though Schuldig will never tell him so.
That thought stops abruptly when a light comes on to his right-he thinks. He can’t see through the blindfold, but the space above and below are letting in a little bit of light, and Schuldig is sure that sound was the bedroom light coming on, or a lamp in that direction.
Ran returns, takes Schuldig’s hands and tugs. Schuldig is in the dark, and Ran expects him to walk. Schuldig wants to tell Ran this is fucking stupid-he can’t see. But then the game will be over, and Schuldig doesn’t want to ruin the surprise without knowing what it is first. But after a few hesitant steps, Schuldig realizes maybe he has trust issues, because every step he takes is shorter than the last, and he knows this place like the back of his hand, knows that Ran is trying to lead him to the bedroom, but Schuldig’s hands are getting sweaty even though Ran’s are reassuringly dry, and Schuldig’s afraid he’s going to hit the phantom shapes behind the eye mask. He opens his eyes wide through the mask, as though he’ll be able to see. The carpet, soft and grainy beneath his bare feet, taunts him. Ran’s sure hands and careful steps taunt him.
But he doesn’t ask questions. Because he can do this, he can fucking walk to the bedroom behind Ran, and Ran will damn well make it worth his while, he knows that as surely as he knows Ran’s hair is naturally the color of blood, and Ran’s eyes are the color of violets on a sunny day, and Ran is natural born Japanese but looks as much like a gaijin as Schuldig does.
Ran must realize at some point that Schuldig’s steps are too small to get them anywhere, because then the pressure stops, and lips meet Schuldig’s, slowly and softly. Schuldig kisses back, gripping Ran’s hands with his own, I don’t want to do this in the desperate press of his lips.
And Ran tugs again, but their lips are joined and Schuldig will follow Ran anywhere like this, fucking cheater, and before Schuldig knows it he’s walking, following the retreating lips, pressing them farther back as the steps take them toward the hall, turn them into the bedroom.
Ran stops them and his lips are gone, and a door closes behind Schuldig, the bedroom door. The light must be from here then. Schuldig makes himself close his eyes, because this is Ran’s game and Ran knows what he’s doing, even if Schuldig doesn’t.
Schuldig can be led.
…Besides, he can always stop them if he wants. Ran said so. And Ran doesn’t lie about important things.
Schuldig trusts him that far. He trusts Ran more than anyone.
Ran kisses him again, leads him forward a few steps, and then says, “Don’t move.”
Schuldig shivers. Blinks his eyes open, and then closes them. Ran steps away. Schuldig’s shirt is unbuttoned, peeled off his shoulders. It is not done sensually, and yet still the hair on the back of Schuldig’s neck rises. He is naked from the waist up, and his hair drags across his shoulder-blades, and the cool air whispers across his back like Ran’s kisses. Ran pulls down his pants and Schuldig steps carefully out of them and hopes this is ok, that he is moving to help. Ran doesn’t object to the lifting of his legs, and Schuldig hears the tossing of his clothing onto the floor. He wants to object; Ran doesn’t treat his clothes badly, so why should he throw Schuldig’s around, even if they’re dirty and Schuldig wants nothing more than to burn them?
Ran must sense his annoyance, for a hand brushes across Schuldig’s cheek, a tiny caress. Schuldig realizes now that he is naked and Ran’s hands are on him. He almost steps forward, into Ran, but remembers his instructions and stays still. Ran’s fingers slide down to his mouth, skimming his lower lip, and Schuldig’s mouth opens slightly, wanting that finger.
But Ran doesn’t slide it inside. Just taps his lip once, fucking tease. Schuldig can feel his cock waking up now, and goosebumps flood his arms when Ran steps away from him and he hears the telltale sign of a zipper. Fabric crushes against itself, is shucked off, and then a softer sound of fabric, and Schuldig is sure now that Ran is naked, just stripped in front of him. And he couldn’t fucking see it except in his mind’s eye, his own mind’s eye, and the anticipation is killing him now, stronger than fear, because Ran is completely in charge and Schuldig is ok with that-more than that, he wants it. He can imagine Ran’s arms as they stretched above his head-he takes off his shirts by pulling up the sides and whipping them over his head, so the shirts ends up inside-out when he’s not careful. But Ran is always careful, and Schuldig can just see him checking the shirt before he tosses it on the floor, picks up his pants and makes sure they land neatly on top of the shirt. He can see Ran as he steps toward him, and the touch on his wrist that pulls him forward and to the right, toward the bed, is electrifying.
This is the time he would whip off the mask and see, touch. This is the time he would throw off the mask and tackle Ran and make him scream as he fucked him raw. But he knows tonight he won’t get Ran unless Ran tells him it’s ok. Tonight he’ll need permission. Tonight he won’t even get to beg unless he’s told that it’s ok. In some ways that’s the hottest part: Ran taking charge, dominating him, and being unreadable and unreachable. Schuldig is subject to the whims of someone who he knows will take care of him.
It’s reassuring; it shakes his chest. It squeezes his heart.
Ran’s hand is hot on his wrist as he tugs, and then turns and pushes Schuldig to the bed. His knees hit the sheets-the blankets aren’t there. Schuldig climbs up onto the bed and when Ran says, “Lie on your back,” Schuldig does and his cock swings heavy between his legs as he gets in position. Schuldig hears the bedside drawer open and something heavy drops onto the bedside table. And then something else, and then more rifling through the drawer. A metallic clink, and the drawer closes.
The bed dips toward the table, Ran sitting, and Ran spreads Schuldig’s legs and light fingers stroke his thighs, a butterfly kiss that lasts a mile. Schuldig breathes out his pleasure through his nose because anything that comes out his mouth might be a noise, and he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to make noises, but now he can’t remember.
Warmth on his the head of his cock, Ran’s fucking mouth fucking God that feels good-and a cool touch at the base of his cock, running carefully up his balls, what feels like leather, and then snap-snap-snap is that a fucking cock ring? His balls are tugging down now, oddly snug, and his cock doesn’t hurt, just feels tighter somehow.
“Does this hurt?” Ran asks. It’s phrased as a question, but there’s no inflection in his voice.
Schuldig shakes his head against the pillow and breathes hard through his nose. “No.”
Ran’s touch, his shadow of weight, disappears, and the bed shifts, and shifts again. A cap opens and Schuldig wonders if Ran is going to fuck himself on Schuldig’s cock-God, that’s always hot. But the blindfold needs to come off for that.
The sound of liquid squeezed out of a bottle, the soft scent of vanilla. Slick hands touch Schuldig’s chest and rub in wide circles, up to his neck and then down his sides and slowly circle in. Schuldig moans in appreciation-involuntarily, totally not his fault-and the hands leave entirely. Schuldig winces. Dammit!
He breathes, counts his breaths and waits to hear what the sound of Ran’s punishment will be. He wonders if it’s anything worse than this terrible silence, this anticipation of the next touch and the wondering if it will come.
When it does, Schuldig has breathed out forty times, and his fingers are curled slightly on the sheets because he is tired and he wants Ran’s fucking hands on him but he can’t talk and so he tenses his hands because he can’t tense anything else. Warm hands touch his chest again, circling his nipples but primarily working his muscles. Ran moves to his arms, first the left then the right. Palms, fingers. Slide up to his neck and then his face.
When Ran starts on his thighs though, first with light pressure and then harder, Schuldig groans. He can’t help it-the sound just bursts out of him. He is so relaxed he doesn’t realize the sound came from him until Ran stops, and the weight on the bed shifts. Schuldig thinks, Not again, and then something hard slaps his thigh with a sound like a whip cracking.
He jumps. He is blind, he was relaxed, and he just got fucking paddled on his upper thigh and it’s perfectly natural that he yelped.
Crack!
This time he bites his lip to keep the sound in. After a waiting silence, the hands start up again on Schuldig’s thigh, slick and hard, and then start in on the other thigh. All the while, Schuldig feels the fading sting and wonders if it will leave a mark he can touch in the morning, see in the mirror. A mark that only he will know is there, and that Ran will accidentally press up against tomorrow, or press against on purpose to remind Schuldig that he belongs to someone, and that someone is Ran.
The weight on the bed shifts and suddenly Ran’s mouth closes over Schuldig’s own, and an oily fist closes around Schuldig’s cock. Schuldig positively screams into Ran’s mouth, can’t fucking help it that he’s almost crying because it feels so fucking good, and Ran, without missing a beat, picks up the strap and slaps Schuldig’s thigh with it, the oil making it slide and sting, and Schuldig hopes to God a welt will be there tomorrow, can almost see it in his mind’s eye, pink and raised and going to bruise, white against his pushing, remembering fingers.
And Schuldig wants to touch but can’t because Ran hasn’t let him, hasn’t said Touch Me, and he’s not allowed to touch unless Ran gives permission. His hands are fisting the bed sheets where Ran left them, spread out over the tortured fabric as he squeezes and claws for better purchase. Schuldig thinks he might come.
And then Ran’s lips slide away and Schuldig is left with nothing.
He feels skin, thighs, those are thighs and knees pressed against his ribcage. Ran is straddling him. Schuldig can feel the phantom weight, smell the musky scent of cock, of semen leaking, and his mouth waters. He licks his lips, and one of Ran’s dark chuckles, the kind that last a short breath, colors the air. “Open your mouth,” Schuldig hears, and he does because he knows what’s coming, he can do this, he can make Ran explode the way he wants to so bad-
Ran’s cock shoves into Schuldig’s mouth and Ran says “Suck it.” He growls it, and Schuldig is overjoyed to be doing something besides laying there and taking it, silently screaming and wanting to come all over Ran’s face. Ran is hard in his mouth and Schuldig wants to take control, but Ran won’t even give him that, just fucks his mouth raw, in and out, in and out, and Schuldig has to try to keep up, has to open wide and slide lips over teeth and not move because Ran is doing all the work, thrusting in, ripping out. Schuldig is glad his gag-reflex is non-existent because this kind of torture could bring tears to his eyes and teeth drawn down and just end badly. Schuldig feels used, and the thrill is impossibly huge.
He wonders if he could come from just this.
And Ran then stops, and Schuldig whimpers because he’s got nothing again, no cock, just the touch of calves against his sides.
A hand comes down hard on his thigh, and Schuldig wonders how Ran stretched back, and thinks it’s a hot image, like the handprint burning into his thigh, five fingers and a palm singing sweet pain into his blood.
And then Ran says “Lie on your stomach” and Schuldig wonders if the massage will continue. If Ran will notice him thrusting into the mattress. His balls are tight, and his cock is full and heavy, sliding against the sheets in leaking pre-cum and pressing hot against his stomach as he lies back down, head in his arms and half his face pressed into the pillow, waiting. Ran pulls his ass up into the air and Schuldig is practically on his knees, open and waiting, and hoping Ran will fuck him-not that Ran ever has. Not that they’ve ever discussed it. Not that Schuldig’s ever asked.
Slick tongue hot against his balls, sucking on one and then the other, explosions that start there and wind up behind Schuldig’s eyes by way of his electrified spine. And then the tongue slides back, back and up, and Ran is rimming him, fucking rimming his asshole and Schuldig wonders if he likes the taste, if when Ran spreads his cheeks he can tell by the way Schuldig is quivering that he is begging without words to be fucked by something, anything.
And tonight Ran is the telepath. His tongue thrusts into Schuldig’s ass and Schuldig screams into the pillow, he’s a pillow-biter and that’s funny, and his hands fist the pillow and he wants to die of happiness, of sheer full-body lust right now, but he can’t because there’s a cock ring, he can’t even control when he comes, and that’s fucking depressing and fucking amazing. He can’t hear anything in his head, he can’t hear anything but himself, and he can’t feel anything but what Ran lets him feel, and that makes him overwhelmingly happy, that he can let go and still be safe.
And then slick fingers slide in and he tenses because Ran’s never been on top before except with women, and because Schuldig’s not been on bottom for years no matter how much he secretly likes it. But Ran is stretching him and slicking him and pushing his cock into him like a pro, and Schuldig wonders crazily if he’s been practicing or if he’s just a natural born sex god. And then Ran’s fucking inside him, all the way to the root, and it’s a familiar burn but not one that is particularly unpleasant once he starts moving. And then Ran hits that spot that’s so good, the tripwire in a minefield of nerves, that Schuldig screams again and Ran smacks his ass hard, and Schuldig pushes back just as hard because he can’t help it, and because it all borders on pain and he’s higher than fucking God right now and Ran is taking him there.
At first Ran only hits that sweet spot sometimes. And then he fucking rams it every time, and Schuldig’s hissing his screams into the pillow, fingers curled around the sheets and face buried in the pillow. Ran’s stroking Schuldig’s cock and panting against his back, the first noises Schuldig hears from Ran that aren’t spoken orders, and Schuldig starts panting too, through his gritted teeth, and every grunt and moan he accidentally utters brings down a slap from the hand not gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise. Ran’s left hand is gripping him hard, pulling, pulling, and Schuldig wails into the pillow and wants to come, wants to beg to come, but he’s not allowed to speak, not allowed to talk even though he’s screaming bloody murder now. And then Ran starts thrusting frantically and reaches down to the base of Schuldig’s cock. A snap like a gunshot and Schuldig is fucking coming all over himself, all over Ran’s hand, splashing his chest and his sheets and his chin, and Ran’s hand is gone and Ran, oh God he can feel Ran coming inside him, the wet splash distantly felt through a haze of sensation.
Ran sighs and pants over him, sweaty forehead pressed against Schuldig’s sweaty back, and they breathe together, balanced precariously on a bed Schuldig half wishes would squeak to match the quaking of his heart.
Schuldig’s heart is still pounding harder than in recent or distant memory when Ran pulls out. His weight disappears from the bed, but Schuldig is panting and too overwhelmed to wonder why sinking into the bed is suddenly possible. Then he feels a warm cloth wiping the come from his body, and hands removing the cock ring with careful movements from his softening cock and balls. That’s when he realizes Ran isn’t in the bed. He understands this with a clarity he feels only when extremely drunk. He also understands that he is still blindfolded even though his eyes feel strained. He realizes he has been open-eyed and staring into black for a long time. He wonders why he can’t just close his eyes sometimes. Ran moves some things from the bed, turns a switch that must be the lamp, and climbs into bed beside Schuldig. He pulls up the covers around them and tucks Schuldig in up to the back of his neck. Then he carefully removes the blindfold and tugs Schuldig against him.
Something clicks in the dark, and Ran puts whatever it was on the nightstand. And then Schuldig can hear Ran’s thoughts again, quiet and content. Hopeful. Schuldig moans happily and snuggles against him, tangling a leg between Ran’s calves. He doesn’t say anything. Just touches Ran’s face gently, then presses up hard and kisses him for all he’s worth. Ran chuckles into the kiss and wraps his arms around Schuldig. He yawns a kitten sound, and is soon asleep.
Schuldig listens to his dreaming thoughts and the beating of his heart. He counts the beats because thinking is too difficult, and he loses count because he’s too tired to think straight. But drifting off, he can feel that more-than-affection in Ran’s thoughts that made him offer his hand on a New York City corner as Ran slumped against a mailbox, bleeding out. And once more, Schuldig knows that killing five men in nine days for a little bit of safety, a little bit more peace, is necessary.
This is what he’s protecting.
~*~
Notes2:
leather cock and ball harness with chrome snaps
leather strap paddle that leaves the word “SLUT” imprinted on the body