Another Schu/Yohji drabble offering
"Question"
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Schuldig/Yohji
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: yaoi
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: as usual, don't own Weiss Kreuz, make nothing.
A/N: follows along the meandering trail of my other Schu/Yohji drabbles
"Have you ever loved someone?"
The lithe body sprawled on its stomach beside Yohji jerked a little in surprise then a muffled snort of derision was heard from the long, elegant nose. Schuldig didn't bother to turn over. He scrunched his pillow tighter in his arms and kept his eyes closed against the faint glow of garish neon.
"What are you smoking, Kudou?"
Yohji frowned at the glowing tip of his burning cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke.
"Mild 100's, same thing I always smoke."
"Hmm. Thought you might have got into some kid's stash of pot," Schuldig mumbled sleepily.
Yohji poked the telepath lightly in the ribs. Schuldig growled and swatted at the offending hand.
"I think you are just avoiding my question," Yohji said and smiled wickedly.
Schuldig turned over so Yohji could get the benefit of the full force of his glare. Orange hair spilled over his shoulders and gleamed in the low light. His eyes seemed to glow with some inner fire. Yohji reached out a single finger to glide over the hard cheekbone and brush against the small bump left over from a past broken nose. At the simple touch the hard edge to Schuldig's glare softened, but when Yohji's finger traced over his bottom lip he caught it and nipped it hard. Something was up with Kudou but Schuldig was too damned tired to dig it from his head. He wanted to sleep, not lay in bed trading endearments like some woman after sex.
Yohji pulled his injured finger back with a hiss, turning it into the light to inspect it for blood. The sharp sting echoed the pain from the long scratches gouged in his back. Sex was always rough and tumble between the two of them, just barely ghosting over the line between kink and sado-masochism. Yohji shoved Schuldig on his back and lay down himself, putting his cigarette between his lips and curling his arm under his head.
"You still didn't answer the question."
They both stared at the cracked and stained ceiling of the hotel room. Schuldig was silent for so long that Yohji was sure that he had either fallen asleep or had just chosen to not answer. He was surprised when he turned his head and saw the telepath frowning with a far away look in his eyes. It suddenly struck Yohji that for all the time their paths had crossed and the more recent development of their unhealthy relationship, Yohji knew next to nothing about Schuldig. His face took on a soft, inquisitive look and his body curled intimately closer.
Schuldig must have either read him or guessed his intent, because before he could ask the next question on his mind, Yohji found himself rolled onto his face with his hips high in the air. After the minimum of preparation, Schuldig was thrusting into him with hard, deep, almost cruel and tooth rattling speed. All questions were driven from Yohji's brain and all he could do was hang on for the ride. His body burned with pain tinged pleasure. So close, he was so close.
Schuldig finished with a last hard thrust and a feral growl. He pushed Yohji flat and climbed off the bed, leaving Yohji still hard and unfulfilled. Schuldig wiped himself off and looked down at Yohji's red face and panting body with a cruel twist to his smirk. With his unnatural speed he was dressed and standing in the open doorway of the room.
"Love is for the weak, Kudou, and I'm anything but weak," Schuldig taunted and disappeared into the night.
Yohji limped to the bathroom and finished himself off with his own hand under the piss poor pressure of the shower. He came with the image of a head of orange hair in his mind, one tossed back with passionate abandon and throat bared in trust. He turned off the water and smoothed his wet hair back with a sigh, stepping from the mildewy tiles. Yohji padded from the shower to gather his scattered clothes. His pack of cigarettes lay on the bedside table alongside a bright yellow bandanna. One of the smokes was lit and stuck between his lips before he even finished drying.
Yohji pocketed the bandanna and smiled at the empty room, the air still pungent with the smell of sex, liquor and expensive cologne. His back stung and he would probably walk with a limp for a day or two, but Yohji smiled anyway.
He had the feeling that Schuldig was lying.
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Schuldig/Yohji
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: yaoi
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: as usual, don't own Weiss Kreuz, make nothing.
A/N: follows along the meandering trail of my other Schu/Yohji drabbles
"Have you ever loved someone?"
The lithe body sprawled on its stomach beside Yohji jerked a little in surprise then a muffled snort of derision was heard from the long, elegant nose. Schuldig didn't bother to turn over. He scrunched his pillow tighter in his arms and kept his eyes closed against the faint glow of garish neon.
"What are you smoking, Kudou?"
Yohji frowned at the glowing tip of his burning cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke.
"Mild 100's, same thing I always smoke."
"Hmm. Thought you might have got into some kid's stash of pot," Schuldig mumbled sleepily.
Yohji poked the telepath lightly in the ribs. Schuldig growled and swatted at the offending hand.
"I think you are just avoiding my question," Yohji said and smiled wickedly.
Schuldig turned over so Yohji could get the benefit of the full force of his glare. Orange hair spilled over his shoulders and gleamed in the low light. His eyes seemed to glow with some inner fire. Yohji reached out a single finger to glide over the hard cheekbone and brush against the small bump left over from a past broken nose. At the simple touch the hard edge to Schuldig's glare softened, but when Yohji's finger traced over his bottom lip he caught it and nipped it hard. Something was up with Kudou but Schuldig was too damned tired to dig it from his head. He wanted to sleep, not lay in bed trading endearments like some woman after sex.
Yohji pulled his injured finger back with a hiss, turning it into the light to inspect it for blood. The sharp sting echoed the pain from the long scratches gouged in his back. Sex was always rough and tumble between the two of them, just barely ghosting over the line between kink and sado-masochism. Yohji shoved Schuldig on his back and lay down himself, putting his cigarette between his lips and curling his arm under his head.
"You still didn't answer the question."
They both stared at the cracked and stained ceiling of the hotel room. Schuldig was silent for so long that Yohji was sure that he had either fallen asleep or had just chosen to not answer. He was surprised when he turned his head and saw the telepath frowning with a far away look in his eyes. It suddenly struck Yohji that for all the time their paths had crossed and the more recent development of their unhealthy relationship, Yohji knew next to nothing about Schuldig. His face took on a soft, inquisitive look and his body curled intimately closer.
Schuldig must have either read him or guessed his intent, because before he could ask the next question on his mind, Yohji found himself rolled onto his face with his hips high in the air. After the minimum of preparation, Schuldig was thrusting into him with hard, deep, almost cruel and tooth rattling speed. All questions were driven from Yohji's brain and all he could do was hang on for the ride. His body burned with pain tinged pleasure. So close, he was so close.
Schuldig finished with a last hard thrust and a feral growl. He pushed Yohji flat and climbed off the bed, leaving Yohji still hard and unfulfilled. Schuldig wiped himself off and looked down at Yohji's red face and panting body with a cruel twist to his smirk. With his unnatural speed he was dressed and standing in the open doorway of the room.
"Love is for the weak, Kudou, and I'm anything but weak," Schuldig taunted and disappeared into the night.
Yohji limped to the bathroom and finished himself off with his own hand under the piss poor pressure of the shower. He came with the image of a head of orange hair in his mind, one tossed back with passionate abandon and throat bared in trust. He turned off the water and smoothed his wet hair back with a sigh, stepping from the mildewy tiles. Yohji padded from the shower to gather his scattered clothes. His pack of cigarettes lay on the bedside table alongside a bright yellow bandanna. One of the smokes was lit and stuck between his lips before he even finished drying.
Yohji pocketed the bandanna and smiled at the empty room, the air still pungent with the smell of sex, liquor and expensive cologne. His back stung and he would probably walk with a limp for a day or two, but Yohji smiled anyway.
He had the feeling that Schuldig was lying.