FIC POST! .... otherwise known as Vampire Strippers...take 2
Title: If Bonds of Blood Prevail
Author: oracle_dreams
Fandom: WK / Saiyuki
Rating: NC17 / NSFW / trigger warnings: SEX, blood and violence
Summary: An elusive clan of vampires has been gathered by their sire and his purpose isn't all that clear. Their enemies are circling but is it a threat from without or from within that threatens to sever their bonds forged in blood?
Word Count: 7736
Disclaimer: WK /Saiyuki are not mine.
A/N: Otherwise known as 'Vampire Strippers'. Many thanks to my guinea pig beta, grammar vampire extraordinaire, crescentium! You should have seen all the red dripping off that file... ;)
There was no use in staring blankly at his computer screen any longer. It could no longer suffice as a distraction. Nagi pushed away from the console, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eye sockets. His eyes were tearing from the pressure that had continued to build behind them all day. He expended the last of what little energy he still retained trying to will himself to hold out longer. Just a while longer. But a sharp, stabbing pain in his spine made it perfectly clear that he was no longer in the position to make such demands of his body. After all, it was no longer - technically - his. There were two choices and neither were his to make. He had delayed it by several weeks but he was finally out of time. He would have to swallow his pride and seek out Crawford.
Nagi slowly made his way out of his suite, careful to keep a guiding hand along the wall. Halfway down the hall he realized that perhaps he had waited just a touch too long. His traitorous knees were burning, trembling from the simple act of walking. Small white sparks danced in his eyes. He had to stop, weak and vulnerable and entirely disgusted with himself. Crawford’s suite seemed so far away at the west end of the hall. With careful steps, he inched his way along, pausing at the wide gap that opened into the common room. To his surprise, Crawford was there, his back to him as he gazed out over the city, its neon haze reflecting wildly off the glass and steel landscape.
As unobtrusively as possible Nagi made his way to a wide couch, gripping the back of it as he steadied himself. He silently waited there for Crawford’s acknowledgement. The continuing silence was not only anticipated but expected. That silence had been escalating in the past year, Crawford’s visions taking more and more precedence. And it only served to make Nagi all the more self-conscious of his disgraceful state.
“How goes your search?” Crawford’s soft, low tone would have been inaudible to most ears. “I assumed your absence these past few weeks must have yielded some results.” Crawford dipped his head to one side, without glancing back.
“I do… have some information that we… we can follow up on…” Nagi’s halting words seemed to rouse Crawford out of his pensive thoughts. He turned to face Nagi from across the room.
The boy was sickly pale, an almost imperceptible shudder coursing under his skin. His eyes were dark and sunken and his breath was much too shallow in his chest. His whole posture screamed in pain in a way that Nagi would never permit himself to express out loud. In the blink of an eye, Crawford was at his side pulling the boys eyes off the floor with a gentle hand to his chin.
He obediently let Crawford guide his head but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.
“How long have you been like this?” Crawford questioned in genuine concern. His gaze softened as he thought back to the last time he had tended to his only scion. It was rare for him to take a human under his tutelage and even rarer to sire them into his bloodline. This boy had been the first in more than a century. It suddenly struck him how badly he had been neglecting his end of their agreement.
“The past few days have been the worst of it…” Nagi still couldn’t raise his eyes but he could not - and would not think to try to - resist answering anything Crawford required of him. Even then, he was determined to not appear weak despite his fragile state.
“Nagi.” Crawford willed Nagi to meet his eyes with his gaze alone. “How long has it been since you fed?” Days, weeks… such small increments of time had ceased to hold meaning for him any longer. This was one of the reasons Nagi was a needed commodity.
“Just over six weeks.” Stormy blue eyes finally met Crawford’s from the shadows of sunken sockets.
Crawford simply closed his eyes, his reticence palpable between them.
“I didn’t want to…”
“This is not an option. You cannot overcome this need by will alone. You will come to me no less than every three weeks…”
“But… “ Nagi’s eyes travelled over Crawford’s features. He was an unhealthy shade of pale himself, his skin taking on an ashen appearance. Nagi was certain that regardless of what Crawford would like them all to believe, his distraction resulted from far more than mere visions.
With a small tilt of his head, he silenced Nagi’s objections. He released the boy’s chin and rounded the couch to sink into the cushion. He began rolling up his sleeve. Nagi did as he was expected and followed Crawford around, standing before him.
“If you just turn me, I can…”
Crawford regarded him from under his brows with a look that froze Nagi’s words in his throat.
“How many times must we have this conversation? I need you and your young appearance to maintain our advantage. I promised you your revenge and you will have it… but not yet…”
Nagi’s eyes searched out his feet once again. He hadn’t meant to question Crawford’s intentions. But he was frustrated, still stuck in a fourteen year old body, nearing ten years now. He wanted to be more useful. He wanted to be more powerful. He didn’t want to be so dependent. A liability. His enemies were Crawford’s enemies. He just…wanted.
“I know… “Crawford spread his knees, guiding Nagi down to kneel between them. He ran a hand lightly over the boy’s hair. “When it is time for your change… it will be a long, slow process. And it will be incredibly painful. Unless you prefer to stay in this young body for an eternity…”
“I just don’t want to…” Nagi’s voice was barely a whisper that spoke to all sorts of things he dared not say out loud.
“You need not worry yourself over such things. They are my concern alone. ”
Crawford quickly ended the conversation by slipping one dagger-like fingernail into the soft skin of his wrist. As soon as the puncture was made, Nagi’s attention zeroed in on the spot, leaned in, biting lightly at his lower lip in anticipation. As Crawford’s hand retreated, a single heavy drop of blood escaped the wound to travel down his wrist. Nagi dove in, his tongue chasing the trail back to its source. His lips fastened around the wound and he immediately drank deep with an unconscious groan of sheer bliss.
As hungry as the boy was, he would feed longer than usual this time. Crawford petted his hair watching the unnatural pleasure course through the boy’s nerves in waves timed to his suction. He had learned early on how to drink slowly, to enjoy this as long as possible and Crawford never begrudged him that small favor.
There was no excuse for allowing the boy to shirk his responsibility in this. Perhaps it was Nagi’s Catholic upbringing lending him some sort of guilt complex or worse, a martyr syndrome. He wasn’t prone to such histrionics but, Crawford had noticed that his attachment issues did bring him much closer, much faster than even his sight had anticipated. There would be punishment for this indiscretion, this sentimental act of free will - more for the sentiment than the free will. But that would have to wait until the boy drank his fill and repaired the damage his abstinence had wrought. It would be days until he was back to his usual strength and resilience.
Nagi struggled to maintain his pace. He hadn’t anticipated the effect disrupting his regularly scheduled feeding would have. With a shuddering breath, he reached out grasping Crawford’s hand and forearm, not possessively but more to steady himself, to bring himself closer. At first he had hated how much Crawford’s blood made him want, alien desires to please, to serve, to simply be whatever it was his master wanted him to be. Now, as those alien desires of subservience began to flare to new life, he was nothing but comforted by their familiar influence. It was what made him Crawford’s. His blood was so much more than power. It was contentment, the likes of which Nagi had never known. If not for the age of this body he was currently confined to, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to turn, especially if it meant losing this feeling currently coursing through every fiber of his being.
With something akin to a whimper, he hobbled forward on his knees, pulling himself as close to Crawford as possible. Just for the contact. He would revel in this bond between them that Crawford shared with no other.
Crawford’s hand fell to rest lightly at the nape of Nagi’s neck. His sight tugged at him, as it was wont to do during such intimate moments. And he allowed himself to collapse into the vision that beckoned as his only scion regained his strength with each draw straight from his veins. His visions regarding Nagi had never been definitive and in the years since claiming him that had only fluctuated even more. The boy had a natural power that made him a risk. A dangerous one. It was not yet time to make the decision but when the terms of their agreement came due, Crawford wasn’t certain he would honor it. He let himself sink into the maze of possibility that always accompanied the boy searching for those tantalizing hints that pointed the way to an answer.
*Crawford…”
*Crrrrrrawforrrrrrd…*
* … *
* Crawford!*
Golden eyes snapped into sudden focus with the mental slap. He wasn’t even afforded the luxury of anger before his sight refocused a few seconds too late at the impending arrival of…
The elevator doors across the room slid open, delivering four generations of his progeny into the room.
With a light tap to the back of his neck, Nagi obediently - albeit slowly - relinquished his claim on Crawford’s arm. He lingered for a moment, chasing the last few drops of blood to escape the wound as it closed down Crawford’s wrist before sitting back on his heels. He swayed there, eyes heavy, his breathing long, slow, and deep in his chest.
Sanzo had nothing but a sneer. Aya and Yohji, who supported their blood-drunk sire from either side, both looked away from the sight before them but for quite different reasons. Hakkai was much too focused on his own progeny to take much note and Gojyo was oblivious to everything but his sire. Schuldig had a smirk on his face which quickly morphed into a snarl as he caught sight of exactly why Crawford had been so distracted during their approach.
“Now you’re just fucking flaunting it in my face!” Schuldig suddenly jerked away from his captors. He easily slipped from Yohji’s grasp, but not Aya’s . “So this is where you’ve been… with the little fucking LEECH!” He tried to pull Aya along with him but ended up wobbling in his much too high platform boots.
Crawford’s gaze sliced across the room for a split second, his face going rigid and blank. He rose from the couch, dodging around Nagi who still knelt unsteadily on the floor. He squared his shoulders as he reached to roll down his sleeve.
“And what does that make you?” Sanzo sniped as he stepped forward to meet Crawford. Sanzo wasn’t usually the type to hold his opinions close and certainly not the type to sugar coat them. His restrained insult was unexpected, so much so, that it caught a distracted Hakkai’s attention.
Hakkai suddenly engaged with the events at hands. He and Sanzo had discussed Schuldig’s troubling behavior several times but as far as he knew it was all conjecture. He never got the impression that Sanzo was so decided on any one theory enough to take it to Crawford. With one stunted accusation, Sanzo had committed to, what might as well be, a declaration of war with Schuldig. He looked to Gojyo, still dazed and, very soon to be unstable, and found himself hard-pressed to not involve Crawford as well.
“Oh, you fucking did not! Who the fuck…” Schuldig struggled against Aya’s iron grip, his other arm flailing as he tried to keep it free from Yohji. The blonde finally managed to wrestle his sire’s arm into a tighter hold. The elder tried to pivot on his heels to Sanzo’s direction, but his progeny managed to hold him fast, the task only made possible by his drunken state alone. Schuldig growled but was undeterred.
“You would fucking DARE?! You fucking little shit… you owe me. Everyone in this room fucking owes me! There’s only one person in this room that has any right to question me and it sure as fuck ain’t you!”
“Enough.” Crawford had no need to raise his voice. He simply infused the word with every ounce of his presence, making Gojyo and Yohji flinch hard. Nagi, still on his knees, gave a soft whimper as he wrapped his hands over his head and sank down into a ball. Aya, Hakkai and Sanzo all riveted their attention on Crawford, eyes wide and wary. Schuldig dropped his chin to watch Crawford from under his brows, orange hair spilling from over his shoulders to curtain his face as he broke into a sly grin. But he did fall silent.
Crawford silently assessed each of them, his eyes lingering on a not-all-there Gojyo before snapping directly back to Schuldig.
“Sanzo…explain.” Crawford’s eyes never left Schuldig who only blinked long and slow in response.
“The third one in as many weeks. This time…a tourist. An American tourist .” Sanzo’s succinct report was obviously for Crawford alone. The details left out of his explanation had Aya, Yohji and Hakkai all looking in his direction, waiting for him to fill in the blanks he intentionally left hanging.
“Farfarello is taking care of it?”
“He is. It will take him some time. “ Sanzo’s violet eyes fixed on Crawford then Schuldig and back again. “He felt it necessary to alter his usual methods. With how often he’s had to use them, he felt it prudent to change things up. I agreed with his reasoning. ” Sanzo shifted his stance crossing his arms across his chest, intently watching the lack of reaction or response from either of them.
After a long silent moment, Yohji could no longer contain his curiosity.
“Why does it matter where he was from?” It wasn’t Yohji’s only question but it was the most immediate one.
“Missing Americans mean investigations and embassy involvement.” Aya connected a few of the dots.
“It means we will need to be even more careful than usual…which your sire seems to be less than capable of…” Sanzo aimed the barb at Schuldig.
Schuldig gave a derisive grunt as his only response.
“Farfarello is particularly capable of making this go away. There is no need to lock down the prison gates over this.” It wasn’t Crawford’s habit to offer unfounded placation. His words were as good as done.
“So you’ll just dismiss this again?” Sanzo’s voice hadn’t grown any louder yet somehow anger radiated through his words. “Gojyo has a single, unintentional accident and you threaten to end him yet Schuldig gets another free pass to do whatever the fuck he wants? Maybe you should know… this one… he looked like you.”
Crawford finally tore his gaze away from Schuldig with a harsh sideways glance at Sanzo. Aya tilted his head aside trying to catch Schuldig’s gaze as his sudden silent questions for his sire went unanswered.
“We almost mistook him for you when he entered the club. The resemblance was rather… uncanny…” Hakkai confirmed.
Crawford studied Hakkai’s face for a moment before his eyes shifted back to Schuldig. Schuldig’s eyes dropped to the floor in response. It was as good as a confession.
Crawford’s face grew dark as a sudden torrent of harsh guttural words erupted between him and the redhead.
Both Aya and Yohji adjusted their holds once again as Schuldig began straining against their grip. Hakkai was trying to keep an ear on the words flying between them but quickly abandoned his efforts. They were clearly not speaking any modern language. With their age, they could be using any one of the hundreds of languages they had learned in their long years together. They could be speaking a dead language for all he knew but, then again, was any language truly dead if these two could still use it to fight with each other?
After a few intense exchanges both fell silent. Crawford turned his back on them all.
“Aya, take him to his suite.” Crawford’s words were so tense they were nearly palpable.
With a short nod, Aya turned, guiding both Yohji and their sire out of the room. Schuldig glared back at Crawford as they went but he didn’t resist . Crawford didn’t move until he heard the faint click of a door far down the hallway.
“Hakkai.” Crawford turned. “Take Gojyo to the guest suite.”
“The guest suite?!” Hakkai was instantly affronted.
The guest suite was little more than a somewhat comfortable jail cell. The room was reinforced in anticipation of unintended guests of their own kind. Using it for one of their own was far beyond a slap in the face.
“He doesn’t need to be locked up like an animal… “
Crawford crossed the room, assessing Gojyo as he neared. “Yes, he does. Especially now that Schuldig has released him.”
Hakkai looked at Gojyo, dipping his head to catch his eyes. The dreamy, vacant look on Gojyo’s face was gone. Instead, his eyes were focused on the ground, intently staring down something he clearly didn’t want to see. His muscles were twitching into coiled tension. All the signs were there.
“You mean…”
“The only reason he isn’t trying to kill us all is because Schuldig was delaying the inevitable.”
“And you still had him release him? You know how hard Gojyo is fighting this! You know how badly he wants to learn control! Do you want him to fail?! ” The building tension in Hakkai’s voice bode poorly for this entire situation. Hakkai knew Crawford’s disdain for him and his bastard progeny well. He had nothing but sarcastic remarks and thinly veiled frustration for Sanzo, Sanzo’s sire and their entire line. But he accepted them all - the unwitting father of bastard children who accepted his responsibilities to them despite his reluctant role in their births.
“No.” Crawford dipped his head back, regarding Hakkai with a critical eye. Now was not the time to delve into this again. “Schuldig is not his sire. I will allow him to assist… but I will not allow him to do this for you.”
Hakkai visibly flinched as if he’d been slapped in the face.
“I can help.” A weak voice whispered from across the room. Nagi was just beginning to straighten himself out, leaning heavily on the couch in an effort to stand.
Crawford turned with a slow blink. The boy was a never ending source of misguided sentiments or, as Schuldig liked to characterize them - surprises.
“That is not an option.” Though Crawford had to admit, the boy was still thinking clearly despite his condition. An ordinary human most certainly would not survive Gojyo in this state…but a scion would. It was originally a scion’s primary role after all - a reliable source of blood. Crawford inclined his head towards Sanzo who immediately caught his drift.
“No. Not Goku. That would cause too many other issues…” Sanzo shook his head.
“So…we wait for Farfarello to return. “
Gojyo let out a pained grunt as he stumbled back a few steps, clutching hard at his belly, pain starting to contort his face. He looked to Hakkai, a silent plea swimming in his eyes for a brief moment before he doubled over in pain.
“Go.” Crawford directed.
Hakkai gave him a pointed look but argued no further. He gathered Gojyo close, draping his arm over his own shoulders as he hurried off to the guest suite. It was going to be a long night for them both.
Crawford turned to attend to Nagi but not without a long glance at Sanzo as he passed.
“Just say it.” Sanzo snarled.
“I was about to say the same.” Crawford countered as he assessed Nagi.
They were referring to much different things but they understood each other perfectly. Sanzo ended the stalemate conceding to the more immediate concern.
“He’s a threat. And I think… time… has dulled your ability to clearly see it.”
Crawford gave a small tilt of his head as he ran a hand through Nagi’s hair, decided that he was still unsatisfied with his condition. With a quick motion, Nagi was cradled in his arms with a faint yelp of surprise that the boy obviously tried to stifle.
“Again… I could say the same…” Crawford headed off to settle Nagi into his suite, pausing before entering the hallway. “We’ll continue this at another time, Sanzo.”
It was a promise but somehow it felt more like a threat.
Sanzo stuffed his hands in his pockets as his chin dropped and his eyes closed. It was clearly going to be a long night for them all.
There was a lot of grunting and groaning but not nearly the sort that Schuldig had come to expect when Aya and Yohji accompanied him to his bed. His every attempt to pull Aya in for a kiss or to clumsily grope for Yohji’s ass turned into something of a wrestling match as both of his progeny fought off his advances. Aya finally had enough and roughly shoved his sire down onto the bed. Schuldig fell backward less than gracefully, flopping down like a ragdoll. Aya followed him down, pinning him to the bed as he nodded to Yohji to finish their mission of peeling him out of his club clothes.
“That’s more like it…” Schuldig crooned.
Aya’s only response was a slight roll of his eyes. Anything further would be taken as encouragement in Schuldig’s state.
“I don’t get it.” Yohji draped Schuldig’s leg over his own knee for easier access to the zipper on his boot. He glanced up at Aya as he tugged the weighty leather off of Schuldig’s foot. “Why is he doing this? He was real fucking clear with me about the rules so why does he keep doing this?”
Schuldig raised a hand in the air. “I’m right here…”
“Is now the best time to question him?” Aya shot back as he leaned harder into his sire to keep him pinned where he lay.
“Yeah, now is a pretty good time to be asking questions since it is becoming real fucking clear that I have no fucking clue what is going on.” Yohji reached for the other boot but a squirming Schuldig was making it nearly impossible to complete this simple task. Yohji opted for the floor, kneeling in between Schuldig’s legs so he could trap the one he needed against the bed. “And what the fuck is this? How do we get drunk? I know it isn’t the alcohol…”
Aya just looked to Yohji with a sigh. Yohji hadn’t been turned for a full year yet. There was so much to learn and he simply hadn’t had enough time to know all he needed to know. Aya wasn’t concerned for his education though. Schuldig had proven to be a surprisingly thorough, if unorthodox, teacher. He had withheld little from Aya and only then with good reason. It wasn’t his place to assume his sire’s role, not even now. But…
“He’s blood drunk. All of us have our own requirements... how much blood we need. When you exceed that… grossly exceed that… this is the result. Most elders will punish their progeny harshly for doing it because of the attention that kind of slaughter brings. But it’s a thrill sport for the newer generations.” Aya glanced down at his sire only to find him watching him intently behind wide glassy eyes. “Of course, they require a lot less blood...”
As Yohji finally pulled Schuldig’s foot free of his final boot he found the other foot wandering the contours of his ass. He wasn’t surprised in the least. Schuldig tilted his head up to catch sight of Yohji who was batting away a determined foot.
“Just do as I say… not as I do … “ Schuldig giggled as his head dropped back down to the bed.
“Well I guess that explains why Sanzo is so pissed.” Yohji concluded as he rose to his feet.
Aya gave a non-committal grunt in response. He turned to look his sire over once more, assessing and silently questioning. Since they arrived in Bangkok, it had been clear that something was brewing and the simplistic answers Crawford offered revealed little. Nothing was making sense - Schuldig all of a sudden falling victim to what was considered to be an affliction of head strong fledglings most of all. To reach this drunken state, his sire must have been gorging for days. And in all that time only a single corpse… that just happened to look like Crawford? Violet eyes narrowed at the lack of recognition or response from Schuldig. Not a taunt or a tease or that mocking chuckle that he reserved for those he regarded as nothing more than small stupid children. His utter silence served as all the confirmation that Aya needed.
Aya released his sire with a final questioning glance before leaving him sprawled alone on the bed. As he rose to his feet, he caught a dark shadow from the corner of his eye, whipping his head around to find Crawford leaning heavily in the doorway. Yohji followed a few stalled seconds later and didn’t even bother trying to hide his startled flinch.
“Leave us.” Crawford’s low words were less of a command and more of a request.
Aya offered a small nod and led Yohji from the room. The blonde couldn’t help the look of concern on his face as he glanced back at his sire.
Crawford stood unmoving even after he heard Schuldig’s progeny leave the suite. Schuldig remained unmoving, still sprawled across his bed clothed in nothing more than a thin strip of white spandex that had no business being called clothing. It was a standoff. As much as Crawford was loathed to fire the first shot, this needed to be put to rest here and now.
“Would you care to explain what it is you think you are doing?” Crawford walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Schuldig laid silent and still in response.
Crawford closed his eyes, gathering his patience and resolve, strolling silently through the room, settling by the window directly opposite to the bed. His gaze fell on his petulant redhead.
“Don’t make me pull rank…” Crawford silently warned.
Schuldig pushed to his elbows, his face curled into a snarl. “Would you care to explain why the leech takes precedence when you look like total shit?”
“I am more than capable of managing my own…”
“The fuck you are. You taken a good look at yourself lately?”
“It’s none of your concern and doesn’t answer the question.”
“None of my concern? None of my fucking concern?! “ Schuldig pushed himself upright, lapis eyes boring into Crawford with more rage than Crawford could ever recall seeing in his eyes. “Do you even know how long its been? “ Schuldig pushed to his feet. “Of course you don’t. Two months, Crawford. Two fucking months. And that last time, when you finished with me, you dismissed me like a fucking whore and haven’t said two fucking words to me since. You are fucking avoiding me and I’m the one that needs to answer questions? You know what? Fuck you.”
Crawford took the flurry of angry words without rebuttal. They were fair even if Schuldig didn’t understand why it needed to be this way. Crawford crossed his arms hard across his chest, resolved to maintain his composure at all cost. And to that end, he turned his gaze out the window, over the city and beyond. He needed to stay focused.
“Why this one?” Crawford asked after a long few minutes.
“Why did he look like you, you mean? You’d like that wouldn’t you? “ Schuldig’s bitter laugh worked its way under Crawford’s skin much too easily. “Too fucking bad… I’m not your jealous little bitch.”
Crawford’s hands curled into fists, and almost immediately he relaxed them down to his sides. “So why this one?”
Schuldig paced at his end of the room, eyes never leaving the back of Crawford’s skull. “Because… Brad. It’s what they need to believe.” He nearly spit the words out, each one spite incarnate.
That gave Crawford pause.
“You want them to believe you are out for my blood?” Crawford whispered from over his shoulder.
Schuldig examined the carpet beneath his feet , dearly wanting to cling to his anger but finding it much more difficult than it should have been.
“Sanzo and Hakkai are more than happy to believe that I am so simple. But Aya… he’s not so easy to fool…”
“You risk them turning on you…” Crawford couldn’t even finish the thought. Taking in the depth of Schuldig’s strategy was proving difficult to come to terms with.
“Less risky than telling them the truth.” Schuldig voiced the conclusion neither of them really needed to hear.
Crawford had no words. He and Schuldig were locked into this together. There was nothing he could say.
He hadn’t even felt Schuldig’s approach as warm hands wrapped around his waist. Crawford slammed his eyes shut as Schuldig pulled himself closer, the heat from his body radiating between them.
“Don’t.” Crawford tried to pull away but Schuldig’s hands clamped together trapping him in their embrace.
“Why are you avoiding me…” Schuldig rubbed his cheek along the solid line of Crawford’s shoulders, scenting him like a cat as if they had been apart for decades. “… when I can feel you don’t want to?”
“You don’t understand…” Crawford grabbed at Schuldig’s hands trying to pry them away. Schuldig simply locked them down tighter. There was no denying that Schuldig was blood-drunk, the heat radiating off his skin, the overwhelming scent of blood nearly seeping from his pores, his touch made painful by the restraint Crawford needed to muster to resist him.
“Make me understand… “ Schuldig challenged. Again he nuzzled his face against Crawford’s wide back, nestling against Crawford with a slow, wanton roll of his narrow hips. “How many times do I have to tell you? I have no problem with this…”
Crawford’s hands torqued down on Schuldig’s wrists, forcing them apart as he twisted in his grip.
“BUT I DO!” Crawford pulled Schuldig up by his wrists, bringing them face to face for the first time in so many weeks. He couldn’t stop his eyes from mapping the redhead’s face, and coursing down lower to indulge in every perfect curve of muscle. The blush of blood that dappled Schuldig’s perfect, pale skin like a full body fever hardened Crawford’s cock with frightening ease.
“Brad…” Schuldig purred. “It’s okay. We’ll find a way… its okay… “The redhead leaned in closer, his words a warm breath across Crawford’s cheek. “Just kiss me…”
“… no…” Crawford would never realize how wide with fear his eyes were in that moment. Every last ounce of his resolve was being spent much too quickly to resist that in which he had spent several lifetimes indulging to his heart’s content.
“Kiss me, Brad…” Schuldig breathed the words across his lips even as Crawford’s grip tightened to the point of snapping bone. “Just kiss me…”
Crawford screwed his eyes shut in a last desperate effort to resist and found his lips brushing against Schuldig’s none the less. He froze in motion with the last ounce of will he could summon. Schuldig knew this fight was won, completing the kiss as he leaned in parting his lips, his tongue pressing for entrance, inviting Crawford to reclaim that which had always been his.
Crawford’s traitorous body responded much too easily, his grip slipping away from Schuldig’s wrists to find the cut of muscle framing thin hips. His fingers traced the deceptively subtle lines, mapping every dip and curve which Crawford knew as intimately as his own body. Schuldig could still feel his resistance stubbornly preventing his inevitable fall into the pleasure he so obviously desired. Perhaps if Schuldig was in full command of his faculties, he may have thought to question why. But asking questions could possibly lead to answers he simply wasn’t interested in hearing at the moment. Schuldig sank into the kiss, capturing Crawford’s tongue with his own as he sank his fingers into Crawford’s hair, pulling him into full body contact.
The warmth radiating off of Schuldig felt more like being pulled into the surface of the sun once they were chest to chest. Crawford was painfully aware that he was no longer in control of his wandering hands. His eyes clamped together tighter as he fully engaged in the kiss with a sudden jolt as his reluctance fell away. His desire was never a question. Schuldig had to know that after so long. He did, didn’t he? Crawford’s resistance, his avoidance had never been about wanting to deny them both…
“…you don’t understand…” Crawford whispered the thought ,soft and fleeting, his final act of defiance. Schuldig smirked ever so slightly against his lips as he moved to back them up to the bed.
As the back of Schuldig’s calves brushed against the bed, he feverishly began divesting Crawford of his clothes. Buttons, belt and zipper all fell away much too quickly under nimble fingers while they sank even deeper into a kiss that would never be interrupted by the annoyance of breathing. Schuldig pulled Crawford in again, now skin to skin, reaching to guide his hands under the swath of spandex barely clinging to his ass. With a groan, Crawford completed the action, groping hard at the solid curves in his hands. A smooth roll of his hips brought them into full body contact, fitted together as if they had been forged that way since the beginning.
This was his Crawford. This was what Schuldig would not be denied. Crawford’s every thought and every action focused on one thing and one thing alone. Schuldig. No one and nothing ever had or ever would claim that privilege… it belonged to Schuldig alone. As the redhead felt Crawford slip into the proper headspace, he moved to reward him. He broke their kiss suddenly, diving for his throat, his tongue mapping its contours as he slowly sank down, lightly nipping at his chest, detouring to tease at a nipple. But these were not his goal. He nuzzled his cheek against the ripple of chiselled abdomen, swallowing hard to tease at the solid shaft pressed up against his throat. He sank further down, nuzzling his cheek against that hard shaft, ever so slowly sinking all the way to the base and back up to the lightly brush his closed lips against the tip.
Hazy blue eyes slitted open, to find Crawford’s eyes riveted to the sight. There was nothing but raw desire there. Holding his gaze, Schuldig cupped his tongue around the tip of Crawford’s wide cock, stroking it lightly before closing his lips around the tip, a slow wet kiss that promised anything Crawford desired. Crawford threaded his fingers through Schuldig’s disheveled hair, caressing with soft tentative strokes. And Schuldig simply repeated his lewd kisses until, finally, Crawford’s fingers tightened at the back of his skull, pulling him into action.
Schuldig’s eyes glinted with the mischievous smirk currently unavailable on his lips. The redhead opened his mouth wide and sank down over Crawford thick hard length like no human lover ever could. His long slow slide only stopped as he nuzzled against Crawford’s belly, swallowing around his cock over and over as his hands snaked from between Crawford’s legs to tease at everything else that he knew would send Crawford over the edge.
“… Schuldig… “ Crawford’s silent entreaty was intended as a warning. Schuldig only heard desire.
There was no limit to how long, how slow or how deeply Schuldig teased at his cock. It was only when Crawford’s other hand joined the first to fist hard at either side of his head that he finally slid up and off of that hard shaft bringing his wicked tongue into play. Once Schuldig combined his talented tongue with the bob of his head, Crawford’s hips twitched into motion. Schuldig’s grin crept through Crawford’s mind like an ominous shadow devouring the last rays of light.
“… fuck me…” Schuldig’s whisper echoed through every recess of Crawford’s thoughts. “…fuck me…fuck me…”
Crawford’s fists blanched white in Schuldig’s hair. A shiver of anticipation skittered down Schuldig’s spine. So close… so close…
“… I want you inside me… “ Schuldig pulled away from Crawford’s cock just far enough to give Crawford the perfect view of his tongue as it lapped and stroked , leaving a wet trail glistening in its wake. Crawford’s eyes followed its every move.
Almost there.
“…please…” Schuldig barely whispered. There was no request in the word and, most certainly, no pleading. It was nothing less than a command that coursed through Crawford’s thoughts like a drug. Schuldig closed his lips around the tip of Crawford’s cock for one last kiss.
Crawford’s expression suddenly hardened as he gathered Schuldig by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Schuldig grinned as he felt the rational, the reason always at the forefront of Crawford’s mind retreat from the sudden onslaught of buried passion finally finding its release. Crawford buried his face in Schuldig’s neck scenting him deeply as he tasted his skin, a deep groan rumbling somewhere deep in his chest as his tongue traced the course of hot blood flowing just below the surface. Schuldig nearly giggled as he felt Crawford’s lip quiver against his skin.
Crawford pulled away with a sudden jerk, his muscles trembling with restraint.
Schuldig chased after him. “It’s yours… always yours…” Schuldig breathed against his lips. Crawford pulled him into a brutal kiss, his hands digging hard into Schuldig’s skin as he gathered him close, groping to find the perfect hold as if preventing his escape.
And Schuldig returned as good as he got, tugging them both backwards until he finally tumbled them both onto the bed. Crawford didn’t even pause, continuing to devour his mouth as he inched them further up to the center of the bed.
Schuldig managed to free one hand, groping blindly for the stand beside the bed, fishing out lubricant. As soon as the tube hit the bed, Crawford pulled away with a growl, quickly slicking his cock, and doing little to prepare Schuldig other than slicking his entrance with a few quick swipes of his fingers. Schuldig curled his hips as Crawford roughly pulled him into his lap. There was no preamble, no teasing of any sort. Crawford shoved into Schuldig in one long hard stroke sheathing his cock deep inside him. Schuldig hissed as his back arched - it wasn’t pain, not after so short an absence. It was Crawford’s total surrender to that which he kept strangled and silent. Glorious, perfect passion… and it all belonged to Schuldig alone.
“….fuck yes…” Schuldig’s fingers dug into straining shoulders, pulling Crawford down. “… fuck me, Brad… fuck me…”
Crawford didn’t need to be asked, his hips were already in motion before Schuldig formed the words . His hips slammed into Schuldig hard, over and over, leaning down over his legs, bending his flexible frame in two. Schuldig laced his fingers together at the back of Crawford’s neck as Crawford rode him hard… so much harder than would ever be possible with one not of their kind. The heavy wooden frame of the bed creaked in protest, growing louder and louder as they reached a near frenzied pace.
Schuldig slid his knees off of Crawford’s shoulder so he could wrap his hands around his solid ass as it contracted hard with each thrust. In response, Crawford put a curl in his hips that had Schuldig moaning uncontrollably.
“ Do it, Brad…” Schuldig’s breathless command was accompanied by a hand wrapped in thick black hair, pulling Crawford’s head down as Schuldig offered his neck.
Crawford’s neck and shoulders suddenly tensed like steel halting Schuldig’s pull. His hips slowed as he searched for Schuldig’s eyes. Schuldig was undeterred by the alarm he found staring back at him.
“Just do it… “ Schuldig wrapped his legs around Crawford’s waist, both hands now pulling at his neck. He would not be denied. “I want you to… “ Schuldig’s hips picked the pace where Crawford’s had left off. “…fuck… do it…. just do it… I did this for you… I want you to…”
Crawford’s grip on the sheets next to Schuldig’s head tightened, the slide of claws tearing through fabric with a soft hiss. Schuldig watched as darkness swallowed Brad’s golden eyes. The redhead groaned as his cock hardened to painful proportions. Brad’s fangs fully descended.
“...yesssssssss…” Schuldig hissed into the depths of Crawford’s mind as his legs clamped down even harder, bringing their bodies together to trap his painfully hard cock between two planes of rippling muscle.
“… Schuldig…” Crawford’s last pained entreaty was silenced byhis own growl. Crawford dove for the soft junction between Schuldig neck and shoulder, his fangs sinking deep.
Schuldig’s arms instantly wrapped around Crawford’s shoulders as his back snapped into a high hard arch, a choked gasp all the sound emanating from gaping scream contorting his face. This was what he had been waiting for. This was his ultimate goal. Aya, Sanzo and Hakkai thought him an addict - addicted to blood or maybe even to the kill. But this - THIS - was what he could not get enough of. He clawed hard at Crawford’s back, feeling skin shred beneath his fingers, his eyes rolling back into his head as overwhelming, all-encompassing ecstasy swallowed him whole.
Crawford drank deep, each draw burning a hot trail through his empty veins. Schuldig’s blood was powerful, nearly as powerful as his own, the flood of power coursing through him, coaxing that which he had vehemently denied to the surface with frightening ease. Deep dark primal needs fell into a synchronous rhythm , each long deep draw of Schuldig’s blood was mirrored by the sensual glide of his hips each driving the other higher, harder, faster, all at once too much but nowhere near enough.
Schuldig was drowning, all too willing to fling himself over the edge and let indescribable ecstasy suck him down into its depths. Crawford was buried deep inside him in every way imaginable and all he could do was keep inviting more, clawing to draw him ever closer , burrowing ever deeper into his unbridled passion, not even conscious of where the limits should be or that there were even limits at all.
Crawford fucked him harder, drank deeper, unhinged the depth of his passion until that limit was breached without warning or restraint.
Schuldig only barely recognized that Crawford’s mind was suddenly under attack . The darkness that rose out of the depths of his psyche wrapped its myriad tentacles around all that was Crawford and suddenly swallowed him whole, leaving an inky black void in its wake. Schuldig’s eyes shot open with a strangled gasp as his centuries old mental link to Crawford snapped like the barest thread.
“…Brad…” Schuldig choked out, still entirely engaged in all the purely physical ways.
Crawford clamped down harder on his shoulder, his hips starting to reach a brutal pace. Schuldig was becoming painfully aware of each and every draw from his veins. Everything was swimming in ways they shouldn’t be.
“…Brad…” Schuldig grabbed at Crawford’s neck, trying to grab his attention, his recognition.
Crawford broke his suction with a trail of blood splattering down his chest as he pulled his head up. His eyes were sheer fields of midnight black, mirroring the void that now occupied the space that had used to be Crawford. Schuldig wrapped a hand in his hair and Crawford’s reaction to it was immediate.
With an unearthly growl, Crawford jammed his clawed hands under Schuldig, impaling him like a predator would a struggling prey. And just that fast, he dove back to the wound at Schuldig’s shoulder tearing into already tender flesh, ripping him open, feasting with the wild abandon of the beast. Schuldig’s eyes went wide, the sudden burst of blinding pain overloading his nerves, triggering a blindingly intense orgasm the likes of which Schuldig had never experienced. His entire body convulsed hard, those involuntary spasms of intense pleasure only spurred on the monster that Crawford had become.
Schuldig’s grip went lax, his thighs releasing their hold on Crawford’s waist. Neither slowed nor deterred Crawford’s primal fury. He gripped his prey tighter, fucked him harder, buried his face in the blood feast before him, oblivious to anything else.
Schuldig realized much too late what Crawford had been trying to warn him about in way too few words. He would never admit - not even to himself - that he was on the brink of losing all control. This was the logical outcome but Schuldig had never seriously entertained this possibility.
“…Br… ad…” Schuldig whispered his name. His muscles were growing weaker each second, his vision losing focus, his thoughts a haphazard jumble slowly sinking in a cold, grey mire. His arms and legs slid like dead weight from Crawford’s body, dropping to the bed like a ragdoll. Schuldig didn’t blame him. Somehow he wanted Crawford to know. But he no longer had the means, his vision growing dark, his muscles going entirely slack.
The beast on top of him noticed nothing.
Crawford drove himself higher and higher into an ecstatic orgy of sex and blood until finally he came. His hips jerked violently as his head tossed back with an unearthly roar. After several long, protracted minutes, he collapsed on top of Schuldig, oblivious to the world.
[ Chapter 1 ]
Author: oracle_dreams
Fandom: WK / Saiyuki
Rating: NC17 / NSFW / trigger warnings: SEX, blood and violence
Summary: An elusive clan of vampires has been gathered by their sire and his purpose isn't all that clear. Their enemies are circling but is it a threat from without or from within that threatens to sever their bonds forged in blood?
Word Count: 7736
Disclaimer: WK /Saiyuki are not mine.
A/N: Otherwise known as 'Vampire Strippers'. Many thanks to my guinea pig beta, grammar vampire extraordinaire, crescentium! You should have seen all the red dripping off that file... ;)
There was no use in staring blankly at his computer screen any longer. It could no longer suffice as a distraction. Nagi pushed away from the console, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eye sockets. His eyes were tearing from the pressure that had continued to build behind them all day. He expended the last of what little energy he still retained trying to will himself to hold out longer. Just a while longer. But a sharp, stabbing pain in his spine made it perfectly clear that he was no longer in the position to make such demands of his body. After all, it was no longer - technically - his. There were two choices and neither were his to make. He had delayed it by several weeks but he was finally out of time. He would have to swallow his pride and seek out Crawford.
Nagi slowly made his way out of his suite, careful to keep a guiding hand along the wall. Halfway down the hall he realized that perhaps he had waited just a touch too long. His traitorous knees were burning, trembling from the simple act of walking. Small white sparks danced in his eyes. He had to stop, weak and vulnerable and entirely disgusted with himself. Crawford’s suite seemed so far away at the west end of the hall. With careful steps, he inched his way along, pausing at the wide gap that opened into the common room. To his surprise, Crawford was there, his back to him as he gazed out over the city, its neon haze reflecting wildly off the glass and steel landscape.
As unobtrusively as possible Nagi made his way to a wide couch, gripping the back of it as he steadied himself. He silently waited there for Crawford’s acknowledgement. The continuing silence was not only anticipated but expected. That silence had been escalating in the past year, Crawford’s visions taking more and more precedence. And it only served to make Nagi all the more self-conscious of his disgraceful state.
“How goes your search?” Crawford’s soft, low tone would have been inaudible to most ears. “I assumed your absence these past few weeks must have yielded some results.” Crawford dipped his head to one side, without glancing back.
“I do… have some information that we… we can follow up on…” Nagi’s halting words seemed to rouse Crawford out of his pensive thoughts. He turned to face Nagi from across the room.
The boy was sickly pale, an almost imperceptible shudder coursing under his skin. His eyes were dark and sunken and his breath was much too shallow in his chest. His whole posture screamed in pain in a way that Nagi would never permit himself to express out loud. In the blink of an eye, Crawford was at his side pulling the boys eyes off the floor with a gentle hand to his chin.
He obediently let Crawford guide his head but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.
“How long have you been like this?” Crawford questioned in genuine concern. His gaze softened as he thought back to the last time he had tended to his only scion. It was rare for him to take a human under his tutelage and even rarer to sire them into his bloodline. This boy had been the first in more than a century. It suddenly struck him how badly he had been neglecting his end of their agreement.
“The past few days have been the worst of it…” Nagi still couldn’t raise his eyes but he could not - and would not think to try to - resist answering anything Crawford required of him. Even then, he was determined to not appear weak despite his fragile state.
“Nagi.” Crawford willed Nagi to meet his eyes with his gaze alone. “How long has it been since you fed?” Days, weeks… such small increments of time had ceased to hold meaning for him any longer. This was one of the reasons Nagi was a needed commodity.
“Just over six weeks.” Stormy blue eyes finally met Crawford’s from the shadows of sunken sockets.
Crawford simply closed his eyes, his reticence palpable between them.
“I didn’t want to…”
“This is not an option. You cannot overcome this need by will alone. You will come to me no less than every three weeks…”
“But… “ Nagi’s eyes travelled over Crawford’s features. He was an unhealthy shade of pale himself, his skin taking on an ashen appearance. Nagi was certain that regardless of what Crawford would like them all to believe, his distraction resulted from far more than mere visions.
With a small tilt of his head, he silenced Nagi’s objections. He released the boy’s chin and rounded the couch to sink into the cushion. He began rolling up his sleeve. Nagi did as he was expected and followed Crawford around, standing before him.
“If you just turn me, I can…”
Crawford regarded him from under his brows with a look that froze Nagi’s words in his throat.
“How many times must we have this conversation? I need you and your young appearance to maintain our advantage. I promised you your revenge and you will have it… but not yet…”
Nagi’s eyes searched out his feet once again. He hadn’t meant to question Crawford’s intentions. But he was frustrated, still stuck in a fourteen year old body, nearing ten years now. He wanted to be more useful. He wanted to be more powerful. He didn’t want to be so dependent. A liability. His enemies were Crawford’s enemies. He just…wanted.
“I know… “Crawford spread his knees, guiding Nagi down to kneel between them. He ran a hand lightly over the boy’s hair. “When it is time for your change… it will be a long, slow process. And it will be incredibly painful. Unless you prefer to stay in this young body for an eternity…”
“I just don’t want to…” Nagi’s voice was barely a whisper that spoke to all sorts of things he dared not say out loud.
“You need not worry yourself over such things. They are my concern alone. ”
Crawford quickly ended the conversation by slipping one dagger-like fingernail into the soft skin of his wrist. As soon as the puncture was made, Nagi’s attention zeroed in on the spot, leaned in, biting lightly at his lower lip in anticipation. As Crawford’s hand retreated, a single heavy drop of blood escaped the wound to travel down his wrist. Nagi dove in, his tongue chasing the trail back to its source. His lips fastened around the wound and he immediately drank deep with an unconscious groan of sheer bliss.
As hungry as the boy was, he would feed longer than usual this time. Crawford petted his hair watching the unnatural pleasure course through the boy’s nerves in waves timed to his suction. He had learned early on how to drink slowly, to enjoy this as long as possible and Crawford never begrudged him that small favor.
There was no excuse for allowing the boy to shirk his responsibility in this. Perhaps it was Nagi’s Catholic upbringing lending him some sort of guilt complex or worse, a martyr syndrome. He wasn’t prone to such histrionics but, Crawford had noticed that his attachment issues did bring him much closer, much faster than even his sight had anticipated. There would be punishment for this indiscretion, this sentimental act of free will - more for the sentiment than the free will. But that would have to wait until the boy drank his fill and repaired the damage his abstinence had wrought. It would be days until he was back to his usual strength and resilience.
Nagi struggled to maintain his pace. He hadn’t anticipated the effect disrupting his regularly scheduled feeding would have. With a shuddering breath, he reached out grasping Crawford’s hand and forearm, not possessively but more to steady himself, to bring himself closer. At first he had hated how much Crawford’s blood made him want, alien desires to please, to serve, to simply be whatever it was his master wanted him to be. Now, as those alien desires of subservience began to flare to new life, he was nothing but comforted by their familiar influence. It was what made him Crawford’s. His blood was so much more than power. It was contentment, the likes of which Nagi had never known. If not for the age of this body he was currently confined to, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to turn, especially if it meant losing this feeling currently coursing through every fiber of his being.
With something akin to a whimper, he hobbled forward on his knees, pulling himself as close to Crawford as possible. Just for the contact. He would revel in this bond between them that Crawford shared with no other.
Crawford’s hand fell to rest lightly at the nape of Nagi’s neck. His sight tugged at him, as it was wont to do during such intimate moments. And he allowed himself to collapse into the vision that beckoned as his only scion regained his strength with each draw straight from his veins. His visions regarding Nagi had never been definitive and in the years since claiming him that had only fluctuated even more. The boy had a natural power that made him a risk. A dangerous one. It was not yet time to make the decision but when the terms of their agreement came due, Crawford wasn’t certain he would honor it. He let himself sink into the maze of possibility that always accompanied the boy searching for those tantalizing hints that pointed the way to an answer.
*Crawford…”
*Crrrrrrawforrrrrrd…*
* … *
* Crawford!*
Golden eyes snapped into sudden focus with the mental slap. He wasn’t even afforded the luxury of anger before his sight refocused a few seconds too late at the impending arrival of…
The elevator doors across the room slid open, delivering four generations of his progeny into the room.
With a light tap to the back of his neck, Nagi obediently - albeit slowly - relinquished his claim on Crawford’s arm. He lingered for a moment, chasing the last few drops of blood to escape the wound as it closed down Crawford’s wrist before sitting back on his heels. He swayed there, eyes heavy, his breathing long, slow, and deep in his chest.
Sanzo had nothing but a sneer. Aya and Yohji, who supported their blood-drunk sire from either side, both looked away from the sight before them but for quite different reasons. Hakkai was much too focused on his own progeny to take much note and Gojyo was oblivious to everything but his sire. Schuldig had a smirk on his face which quickly morphed into a snarl as he caught sight of exactly why Crawford had been so distracted during their approach.
“Now you’re just fucking flaunting it in my face!” Schuldig suddenly jerked away from his captors. He easily slipped from Yohji’s grasp, but not Aya’s . “So this is where you’ve been… with the little fucking LEECH!” He tried to pull Aya along with him but ended up wobbling in his much too high platform boots.
Crawford’s gaze sliced across the room for a split second, his face going rigid and blank. He rose from the couch, dodging around Nagi who still knelt unsteadily on the floor. He squared his shoulders as he reached to roll down his sleeve.
“And what does that make you?” Sanzo sniped as he stepped forward to meet Crawford. Sanzo wasn’t usually the type to hold his opinions close and certainly not the type to sugar coat them. His restrained insult was unexpected, so much so, that it caught a distracted Hakkai’s attention.
Hakkai suddenly engaged with the events at hands. He and Sanzo had discussed Schuldig’s troubling behavior several times but as far as he knew it was all conjecture. He never got the impression that Sanzo was so decided on any one theory enough to take it to Crawford. With one stunted accusation, Sanzo had committed to, what might as well be, a declaration of war with Schuldig. He looked to Gojyo, still dazed and, very soon to be unstable, and found himself hard-pressed to not involve Crawford as well.
“Oh, you fucking did not! Who the fuck…” Schuldig struggled against Aya’s iron grip, his other arm flailing as he tried to keep it free from Yohji. The blonde finally managed to wrestle his sire’s arm into a tighter hold. The elder tried to pivot on his heels to Sanzo’s direction, but his progeny managed to hold him fast, the task only made possible by his drunken state alone. Schuldig growled but was undeterred.
“You would fucking DARE?! You fucking little shit… you owe me. Everyone in this room fucking owes me! There’s only one person in this room that has any right to question me and it sure as fuck ain’t you!”
“Enough.” Crawford had no need to raise his voice. He simply infused the word with every ounce of his presence, making Gojyo and Yohji flinch hard. Nagi, still on his knees, gave a soft whimper as he wrapped his hands over his head and sank down into a ball. Aya, Hakkai and Sanzo all riveted their attention on Crawford, eyes wide and wary. Schuldig dropped his chin to watch Crawford from under his brows, orange hair spilling from over his shoulders to curtain his face as he broke into a sly grin. But he did fall silent.
Crawford silently assessed each of them, his eyes lingering on a not-all-there Gojyo before snapping directly back to Schuldig.
“Sanzo…explain.” Crawford’s eyes never left Schuldig who only blinked long and slow in response.
“The third one in as many weeks. This time…a tourist. An American tourist .” Sanzo’s succinct report was obviously for Crawford alone. The details left out of his explanation had Aya, Yohji and Hakkai all looking in his direction, waiting for him to fill in the blanks he intentionally left hanging.
“Farfarello is taking care of it?”
“He is. It will take him some time. “ Sanzo’s violet eyes fixed on Crawford then Schuldig and back again. “He felt it necessary to alter his usual methods. With how often he’s had to use them, he felt it prudent to change things up. I agreed with his reasoning. ” Sanzo shifted his stance crossing his arms across his chest, intently watching the lack of reaction or response from either of them.
After a long silent moment, Yohji could no longer contain his curiosity.
“Why does it matter where he was from?” It wasn’t Yohji’s only question but it was the most immediate one.
“Missing Americans mean investigations and embassy involvement.” Aya connected a few of the dots.
“It means we will need to be even more careful than usual…which your sire seems to be less than capable of…” Sanzo aimed the barb at Schuldig.
Schuldig gave a derisive grunt as his only response.
“Farfarello is particularly capable of making this go away. There is no need to lock down the prison gates over this.” It wasn’t Crawford’s habit to offer unfounded placation. His words were as good as done.
“So you’ll just dismiss this again?” Sanzo’s voice hadn’t grown any louder yet somehow anger radiated through his words. “Gojyo has a single, unintentional accident and you threaten to end him yet Schuldig gets another free pass to do whatever the fuck he wants? Maybe you should know… this one… he looked like you.”
Crawford finally tore his gaze away from Schuldig with a harsh sideways glance at Sanzo. Aya tilted his head aside trying to catch Schuldig’s gaze as his sudden silent questions for his sire went unanswered.
“We almost mistook him for you when he entered the club. The resemblance was rather… uncanny…” Hakkai confirmed.
Crawford studied Hakkai’s face for a moment before his eyes shifted back to Schuldig. Schuldig’s eyes dropped to the floor in response. It was as good as a confession.
Crawford’s face grew dark as a sudden torrent of harsh guttural words erupted between him and the redhead.
Both Aya and Yohji adjusted their holds once again as Schuldig began straining against their grip. Hakkai was trying to keep an ear on the words flying between them but quickly abandoned his efforts. They were clearly not speaking any modern language. With their age, they could be using any one of the hundreds of languages they had learned in their long years together. They could be speaking a dead language for all he knew but, then again, was any language truly dead if these two could still use it to fight with each other?
After a few intense exchanges both fell silent. Crawford turned his back on them all.
“Aya, take him to his suite.” Crawford’s words were so tense they were nearly palpable.
With a short nod, Aya turned, guiding both Yohji and their sire out of the room. Schuldig glared back at Crawford as they went but he didn’t resist . Crawford didn’t move until he heard the faint click of a door far down the hallway.
“Hakkai.” Crawford turned. “Take Gojyo to the guest suite.”
“The guest suite?!” Hakkai was instantly affronted.
The guest suite was little more than a somewhat comfortable jail cell. The room was reinforced in anticipation of unintended guests of their own kind. Using it for one of their own was far beyond a slap in the face.
“He doesn’t need to be locked up like an animal… “
Crawford crossed the room, assessing Gojyo as he neared. “Yes, he does. Especially now that Schuldig has released him.”
Hakkai looked at Gojyo, dipping his head to catch his eyes. The dreamy, vacant look on Gojyo’s face was gone. Instead, his eyes were focused on the ground, intently staring down something he clearly didn’t want to see. His muscles were twitching into coiled tension. All the signs were there.
“You mean…”
“The only reason he isn’t trying to kill us all is because Schuldig was delaying the inevitable.”
“And you still had him release him? You know how hard Gojyo is fighting this! You know how badly he wants to learn control! Do you want him to fail?! ” The building tension in Hakkai’s voice bode poorly for this entire situation. Hakkai knew Crawford’s disdain for him and his bastard progeny well. He had nothing but sarcastic remarks and thinly veiled frustration for Sanzo, Sanzo’s sire and their entire line. But he accepted them all - the unwitting father of bastard children who accepted his responsibilities to them despite his reluctant role in their births.
“No.” Crawford dipped his head back, regarding Hakkai with a critical eye. Now was not the time to delve into this again. “Schuldig is not his sire. I will allow him to assist… but I will not allow him to do this for you.”
Hakkai visibly flinched as if he’d been slapped in the face.
“I can help.” A weak voice whispered from across the room. Nagi was just beginning to straighten himself out, leaning heavily on the couch in an effort to stand.
Crawford turned with a slow blink. The boy was a never ending source of misguided sentiments or, as Schuldig liked to characterize them - surprises.
“That is not an option.” Though Crawford had to admit, the boy was still thinking clearly despite his condition. An ordinary human most certainly would not survive Gojyo in this state…but a scion would. It was originally a scion’s primary role after all - a reliable source of blood. Crawford inclined his head towards Sanzo who immediately caught his drift.
“No. Not Goku. That would cause too many other issues…” Sanzo shook his head.
“So…we wait for Farfarello to return. “
Gojyo let out a pained grunt as he stumbled back a few steps, clutching hard at his belly, pain starting to contort his face. He looked to Hakkai, a silent plea swimming in his eyes for a brief moment before he doubled over in pain.
“Go.” Crawford directed.
Hakkai gave him a pointed look but argued no further. He gathered Gojyo close, draping his arm over his own shoulders as he hurried off to the guest suite. It was going to be a long night for them both.
Crawford turned to attend to Nagi but not without a long glance at Sanzo as he passed.
“Just say it.” Sanzo snarled.
“I was about to say the same.” Crawford countered as he assessed Nagi.
They were referring to much different things but they understood each other perfectly. Sanzo ended the stalemate conceding to the more immediate concern.
“He’s a threat. And I think… time… has dulled your ability to clearly see it.”
Crawford gave a small tilt of his head as he ran a hand through Nagi’s hair, decided that he was still unsatisfied with his condition. With a quick motion, Nagi was cradled in his arms with a faint yelp of surprise that the boy obviously tried to stifle.
“Again… I could say the same…” Crawford headed off to settle Nagi into his suite, pausing before entering the hallway. “We’ll continue this at another time, Sanzo.”
It was a promise but somehow it felt more like a threat.
Sanzo stuffed his hands in his pockets as his chin dropped and his eyes closed. It was clearly going to be a long night for them all.
There was a lot of grunting and groaning but not nearly the sort that Schuldig had come to expect when Aya and Yohji accompanied him to his bed. His every attempt to pull Aya in for a kiss or to clumsily grope for Yohji’s ass turned into something of a wrestling match as both of his progeny fought off his advances. Aya finally had enough and roughly shoved his sire down onto the bed. Schuldig fell backward less than gracefully, flopping down like a ragdoll. Aya followed him down, pinning him to the bed as he nodded to Yohji to finish their mission of peeling him out of his club clothes.
“That’s more like it…” Schuldig crooned.
Aya’s only response was a slight roll of his eyes. Anything further would be taken as encouragement in Schuldig’s state.
“I don’t get it.” Yohji draped Schuldig’s leg over his own knee for easier access to the zipper on his boot. He glanced up at Aya as he tugged the weighty leather off of Schuldig’s foot. “Why is he doing this? He was real fucking clear with me about the rules so why does he keep doing this?”
Schuldig raised a hand in the air. “I’m right here…”
“Is now the best time to question him?” Aya shot back as he leaned harder into his sire to keep him pinned where he lay.
“Yeah, now is a pretty good time to be asking questions since it is becoming real fucking clear that I have no fucking clue what is going on.” Yohji reached for the other boot but a squirming Schuldig was making it nearly impossible to complete this simple task. Yohji opted for the floor, kneeling in between Schuldig’s legs so he could trap the one he needed against the bed. “And what the fuck is this? How do we get drunk? I know it isn’t the alcohol…”
Aya just looked to Yohji with a sigh. Yohji hadn’t been turned for a full year yet. There was so much to learn and he simply hadn’t had enough time to know all he needed to know. Aya wasn’t concerned for his education though. Schuldig had proven to be a surprisingly thorough, if unorthodox, teacher. He had withheld little from Aya and only then with good reason. It wasn’t his place to assume his sire’s role, not even now. But…
“He’s blood drunk. All of us have our own requirements... how much blood we need. When you exceed that… grossly exceed that… this is the result. Most elders will punish their progeny harshly for doing it because of the attention that kind of slaughter brings. But it’s a thrill sport for the newer generations.” Aya glanced down at his sire only to find him watching him intently behind wide glassy eyes. “Of course, they require a lot less blood...”
As Yohji finally pulled Schuldig’s foot free of his final boot he found the other foot wandering the contours of his ass. He wasn’t surprised in the least. Schuldig tilted his head up to catch sight of Yohji who was batting away a determined foot.
“Just do as I say… not as I do … “ Schuldig giggled as his head dropped back down to the bed.
“Well I guess that explains why Sanzo is so pissed.” Yohji concluded as he rose to his feet.
Aya gave a non-committal grunt in response. He turned to look his sire over once more, assessing and silently questioning. Since they arrived in Bangkok, it had been clear that something was brewing and the simplistic answers Crawford offered revealed little. Nothing was making sense - Schuldig all of a sudden falling victim to what was considered to be an affliction of head strong fledglings most of all. To reach this drunken state, his sire must have been gorging for days. And in all that time only a single corpse… that just happened to look like Crawford? Violet eyes narrowed at the lack of recognition or response from Schuldig. Not a taunt or a tease or that mocking chuckle that he reserved for those he regarded as nothing more than small stupid children. His utter silence served as all the confirmation that Aya needed.
Aya released his sire with a final questioning glance before leaving him sprawled alone on the bed. As he rose to his feet, he caught a dark shadow from the corner of his eye, whipping his head around to find Crawford leaning heavily in the doorway. Yohji followed a few stalled seconds later and didn’t even bother trying to hide his startled flinch.
“Leave us.” Crawford’s low words were less of a command and more of a request.
Aya offered a small nod and led Yohji from the room. The blonde couldn’t help the look of concern on his face as he glanced back at his sire.
Crawford stood unmoving even after he heard Schuldig’s progeny leave the suite. Schuldig remained unmoving, still sprawled across his bed clothed in nothing more than a thin strip of white spandex that had no business being called clothing. It was a standoff. As much as Crawford was loathed to fire the first shot, this needed to be put to rest here and now.
“Would you care to explain what it is you think you are doing?” Crawford walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Schuldig laid silent and still in response.
Crawford closed his eyes, gathering his patience and resolve, strolling silently through the room, settling by the window directly opposite to the bed. His gaze fell on his petulant redhead.
“Don’t make me pull rank…” Crawford silently warned.
Schuldig pushed to his elbows, his face curled into a snarl. “Would you care to explain why the leech takes precedence when you look like total shit?”
“I am more than capable of managing my own…”
“The fuck you are. You taken a good look at yourself lately?”
“It’s none of your concern and doesn’t answer the question.”
“None of my concern? None of my fucking concern?! “ Schuldig pushed himself upright, lapis eyes boring into Crawford with more rage than Crawford could ever recall seeing in his eyes. “Do you even know how long its been? “ Schuldig pushed to his feet. “Of course you don’t. Two months, Crawford. Two fucking months. And that last time, when you finished with me, you dismissed me like a fucking whore and haven’t said two fucking words to me since. You are fucking avoiding me and I’m the one that needs to answer questions? You know what? Fuck you.”
Crawford took the flurry of angry words without rebuttal. They were fair even if Schuldig didn’t understand why it needed to be this way. Crawford crossed his arms hard across his chest, resolved to maintain his composure at all cost. And to that end, he turned his gaze out the window, over the city and beyond. He needed to stay focused.
“Why this one?” Crawford asked after a long few minutes.
“Why did he look like you, you mean? You’d like that wouldn’t you? “ Schuldig’s bitter laugh worked its way under Crawford’s skin much too easily. “Too fucking bad… I’m not your jealous little bitch.”
Crawford’s hands curled into fists, and almost immediately he relaxed them down to his sides. “So why this one?”
Schuldig paced at his end of the room, eyes never leaving the back of Crawford’s skull. “Because… Brad. It’s what they need to believe.” He nearly spit the words out, each one spite incarnate.
That gave Crawford pause.
“You want them to believe you are out for my blood?” Crawford whispered from over his shoulder.
Schuldig examined the carpet beneath his feet , dearly wanting to cling to his anger but finding it much more difficult than it should have been.
“Sanzo and Hakkai are more than happy to believe that I am so simple. But Aya… he’s not so easy to fool…”
“You risk them turning on you…” Crawford couldn’t even finish the thought. Taking in the depth of Schuldig’s strategy was proving difficult to come to terms with.
“Less risky than telling them the truth.” Schuldig voiced the conclusion neither of them really needed to hear.
Crawford had no words. He and Schuldig were locked into this together. There was nothing he could say.
He hadn’t even felt Schuldig’s approach as warm hands wrapped around his waist. Crawford slammed his eyes shut as Schuldig pulled himself closer, the heat from his body radiating between them.
“Don’t.” Crawford tried to pull away but Schuldig’s hands clamped together trapping him in their embrace.
“Why are you avoiding me…” Schuldig rubbed his cheek along the solid line of Crawford’s shoulders, scenting him like a cat as if they had been apart for decades. “… when I can feel you don’t want to?”
“You don’t understand…” Crawford grabbed at Schuldig’s hands trying to pry them away. Schuldig simply locked them down tighter. There was no denying that Schuldig was blood-drunk, the heat radiating off his skin, the overwhelming scent of blood nearly seeping from his pores, his touch made painful by the restraint Crawford needed to muster to resist him.
“Make me understand… “ Schuldig challenged. Again he nuzzled his face against Crawford’s wide back, nestling against Crawford with a slow, wanton roll of his narrow hips. “How many times do I have to tell you? I have no problem with this…”
Crawford’s hands torqued down on Schuldig’s wrists, forcing them apart as he twisted in his grip.
“BUT I DO!” Crawford pulled Schuldig up by his wrists, bringing them face to face for the first time in so many weeks. He couldn’t stop his eyes from mapping the redhead’s face, and coursing down lower to indulge in every perfect curve of muscle. The blush of blood that dappled Schuldig’s perfect, pale skin like a full body fever hardened Crawford’s cock with frightening ease.
“Brad…” Schuldig purred. “It’s okay. We’ll find a way… its okay… “The redhead leaned in closer, his words a warm breath across Crawford’s cheek. “Just kiss me…”
“… no…” Crawford would never realize how wide with fear his eyes were in that moment. Every last ounce of his resolve was being spent much too quickly to resist that in which he had spent several lifetimes indulging to his heart’s content.
“Kiss me, Brad…” Schuldig breathed the words across his lips even as Crawford’s grip tightened to the point of snapping bone. “Just kiss me…”
Crawford screwed his eyes shut in a last desperate effort to resist and found his lips brushing against Schuldig’s none the less. He froze in motion with the last ounce of will he could summon. Schuldig knew this fight was won, completing the kiss as he leaned in parting his lips, his tongue pressing for entrance, inviting Crawford to reclaim that which had always been his.
Crawford’s traitorous body responded much too easily, his grip slipping away from Schuldig’s wrists to find the cut of muscle framing thin hips. His fingers traced the deceptively subtle lines, mapping every dip and curve which Crawford knew as intimately as his own body. Schuldig could still feel his resistance stubbornly preventing his inevitable fall into the pleasure he so obviously desired. Perhaps if Schuldig was in full command of his faculties, he may have thought to question why. But asking questions could possibly lead to answers he simply wasn’t interested in hearing at the moment. Schuldig sank into the kiss, capturing Crawford’s tongue with his own as he sank his fingers into Crawford’s hair, pulling him into full body contact.
The warmth radiating off of Schuldig felt more like being pulled into the surface of the sun once they were chest to chest. Crawford was painfully aware that he was no longer in control of his wandering hands. His eyes clamped together tighter as he fully engaged in the kiss with a sudden jolt as his reluctance fell away. His desire was never a question. Schuldig had to know that after so long. He did, didn’t he? Crawford’s resistance, his avoidance had never been about wanting to deny them both…
“…you don’t understand…” Crawford whispered the thought ,soft and fleeting, his final act of defiance. Schuldig smirked ever so slightly against his lips as he moved to back them up to the bed.
As the back of Schuldig’s calves brushed against the bed, he feverishly began divesting Crawford of his clothes. Buttons, belt and zipper all fell away much too quickly under nimble fingers while they sank even deeper into a kiss that would never be interrupted by the annoyance of breathing. Schuldig pulled Crawford in again, now skin to skin, reaching to guide his hands under the swath of spandex barely clinging to his ass. With a groan, Crawford completed the action, groping hard at the solid curves in his hands. A smooth roll of his hips brought them into full body contact, fitted together as if they had been forged that way since the beginning.
This was his Crawford. This was what Schuldig would not be denied. Crawford’s every thought and every action focused on one thing and one thing alone. Schuldig. No one and nothing ever had or ever would claim that privilege… it belonged to Schuldig alone. As the redhead felt Crawford slip into the proper headspace, he moved to reward him. He broke their kiss suddenly, diving for his throat, his tongue mapping its contours as he slowly sank down, lightly nipping at his chest, detouring to tease at a nipple. But these were not his goal. He nuzzled his cheek against the ripple of chiselled abdomen, swallowing hard to tease at the solid shaft pressed up against his throat. He sank further down, nuzzling his cheek against that hard shaft, ever so slowly sinking all the way to the base and back up to the lightly brush his closed lips against the tip.
Hazy blue eyes slitted open, to find Crawford’s eyes riveted to the sight. There was nothing but raw desire there. Holding his gaze, Schuldig cupped his tongue around the tip of Crawford’s wide cock, stroking it lightly before closing his lips around the tip, a slow wet kiss that promised anything Crawford desired. Crawford threaded his fingers through Schuldig’s disheveled hair, caressing with soft tentative strokes. And Schuldig simply repeated his lewd kisses until, finally, Crawford’s fingers tightened at the back of his skull, pulling him into action.
Schuldig’s eyes glinted with the mischievous smirk currently unavailable on his lips. The redhead opened his mouth wide and sank down over Crawford thick hard length like no human lover ever could. His long slow slide only stopped as he nuzzled against Crawford’s belly, swallowing around his cock over and over as his hands snaked from between Crawford’s legs to tease at everything else that he knew would send Crawford over the edge.
“… Schuldig… “ Crawford’s silent entreaty was intended as a warning. Schuldig only heard desire.
There was no limit to how long, how slow or how deeply Schuldig teased at his cock. It was only when Crawford’s other hand joined the first to fist hard at either side of his head that he finally slid up and off of that hard shaft bringing his wicked tongue into play. Once Schuldig combined his talented tongue with the bob of his head, Crawford’s hips twitched into motion. Schuldig’s grin crept through Crawford’s mind like an ominous shadow devouring the last rays of light.
“… fuck me…” Schuldig’s whisper echoed through every recess of Crawford’s thoughts. “…fuck me…fuck me…”
Crawford’s fists blanched white in Schuldig’s hair. A shiver of anticipation skittered down Schuldig’s spine. So close… so close…
“… I want you inside me… “ Schuldig pulled away from Crawford’s cock just far enough to give Crawford the perfect view of his tongue as it lapped and stroked , leaving a wet trail glistening in its wake. Crawford’s eyes followed its every move.
Almost there.
“…please…” Schuldig barely whispered. There was no request in the word and, most certainly, no pleading. It was nothing less than a command that coursed through Crawford’s thoughts like a drug. Schuldig closed his lips around the tip of Crawford’s cock for one last kiss.
Crawford’s expression suddenly hardened as he gathered Schuldig by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Schuldig grinned as he felt the rational, the reason always at the forefront of Crawford’s mind retreat from the sudden onslaught of buried passion finally finding its release. Crawford buried his face in Schuldig’s neck scenting him deeply as he tasted his skin, a deep groan rumbling somewhere deep in his chest as his tongue traced the course of hot blood flowing just below the surface. Schuldig nearly giggled as he felt Crawford’s lip quiver against his skin.
Crawford pulled away with a sudden jerk, his muscles trembling with restraint.
Schuldig chased after him. “It’s yours… always yours…” Schuldig breathed against his lips. Crawford pulled him into a brutal kiss, his hands digging hard into Schuldig’s skin as he gathered him close, groping to find the perfect hold as if preventing his escape.
And Schuldig returned as good as he got, tugging them both backwards until he finally tumbled them both onto the bed. Crawford didn’t even pause, continuing to devour his mouth as he inched them further up to the center of the bed.
Schuldig managed to free one hand, groping blindly for the stand beside the bed, fishing out lubricant. As soon as the tube hit the bed, Crawford pulled away with a growl, quickly slicking his cock, and doing little to prepare Schuldig other than slicking his entrance with a few quick swipes of his fingers. Schuldig curled his hips as Crawford roughly pulled him into his lap. There was no preamble, no teasing of any sort. Crawford shoved into Schuldig in one long hard stroke sheathing his cock deep inside him. Schuldig hissed as his back arched - it wasn’t pain, not after so short an absence. It was Crawford’s total surrender to that which he kept strangled and silent. Glorious, perfect passion… and it all belonged to Schuldig alone.
“….fuck yes…” Schuldig’s fingers dug into straining shoulders, pulling Crawford down. “… fuck me, Brad… fuck me…”
Crawford didn’t need to be asked, his hips were already in motion before Schuldig formed the words . His hips slammed into Schuldig hard, over and over, leaning down over his legs, bending his flexible frame in two. Schuldig laced his fingers together at the back of Crawford’s neck as Crawford rode him hard… so much harder than would ever be possible with one not of their kind. The heavy wooden frame of the bed creaked in protest, growing louder and louder as they reached a near frenzied pace.
Schuldig slid his knees off of Crawford’s shoulder so he could wrap his hands around his solid ass as it contracted hard with each thrust. In response, Crawford put a curl in his hips that had Schuldig moaning uncontrollably.
“ Do it, Brad…” Schuldig’s breathless command was accompanied by a hand wrapped in thick black hair, pulling Crawford’s head down as Schuldig offered his neck.
Crawford’s neck and shoulders suddenly tensed like steel halting Schuldig’s pull. His hips slowed as he searched for Schuldig’s eyes. Schuldig was undeterred by the alarm he found staring back at him.
“Just do it… “ Schuldig wrapped his legs around Crawford’s waist, both hands now pulling at his neck. He would not be denied. “I want you to… “ Schuldig’s hips picked the pace where Crawford’s had left off. “…fuck… do it…. just do it… I did this for you… I want you to…”
Crawford’s grip on the sheets next to Schuldig’s head tightened, the slide of claws tearing through fabric with a soft hiss. Schuldig watched as darkness swallowed Brad’s golden eyes. The redhead groaned as his cock hardened to painful proportions. Brad’s fangs fully descended.
“...yesssssssss…” Schuldig hissed into the depths of Crawford’s mind as his legs clamped down even harder, bringing their bodies together to trap his painfully hard cock between two planes of rippling muscle.
“… Schuldig…” Crawford’s last pained entreaty was silenced byhis own growl. Crawford dove for the soft junction between Schuldig neck and shoulder, his fangs sinking deep.
Schuldig’s arms instantly wrapped around Crawford’s shoulders as his back snapped into a high hard arch, a choked gasp all the sound emanating from gaping scream contorting his face. This was what he had been waiting for. This was his ultimate goal. Aya, Sanzo and Hakkai thought him an addict - addicted to blood or maybe even to the kill. But this - THIS - was what he could not get enough of. He clawed hard at Crawford’s back, feeling skin shred beneath his fingers, his eyes rolling back into his head as overwhelming, all-encompassing ecstasy swallowed him whole.
Crawford drank deep, each draw burning a hot trail through his empty veins. Schuldig’s blood was powerful, nearly as powerful as his own, the flood of power coursing through him, coaxing that which he had vehemently denied to the surface with frightening ease. Deep dark primal needs fell into a synchronous rhythm , each long deep draw of Schuldig’s blood was mirrored by the sensual glide of his hips each driving the other higher, harder, faster, all at once too much but nowhere near enough.
Schuldig was drowning, all too willing to fling himself over the edge and let indescribable ecstasy suck him down into its depths. Crawford was buried deep inside him in every way imaginable and all he could do was keep inviting more, clawing to draw him ever closer , burrowing ever deeper into his unbridled passion, not even conscious of where the limits should be or that there were even limits at all.
Crawford fucked him harder, drank deeper, unhinged the depth of his passion until that limit was breached without warning or restraint.
Schuldig only barely recognized that Crawford’s mind was suddenly under attack . The darkness that rose out of the depths of his psyche wrapped its myriad tentacles around all that was Crawford and suddenly swallowed him whole, leaving an inky black void in its wake. Schuldig’s eyes shot open with a strangled gasp as his centuries old mental link to Crawford snapped like the barest thread.
“…Brad…” Schuldig choked out, still entirely engaged in all the purely physical ways.
Crawford clamped down harder on his shoulder, his hips starting to reach a brutal pace. Schuldig was becoming painfully aware of each and every draw from his veins. Everything was swimming in ways they shouldn’t be.
“…Brad…” Schuldig grabbed at Crawford’s neck, trying to grab his attention, his recognition.
Crawford broke his suction with a trail of blood splattering down his chest as he pulled his head up. His eyes were sheer fields of midnight black, mirroring the void that now occupied the space that had used to be Crawford. Schuldig wrapped a hand in his hair and Crawford’s reaction to it was immediate.
With an unearthly growl, Crawford jammed his clawed hands under Schuldig, impaling him like a predator would a struggling prey. And just that fast, he dove back to the wound at Schuldig’s shoulder tearing into already tender flesh, ripping him open, feasting with the wild abandon of the beast. Schuldig’s eyes went wide, the sudden burst of blinding pain overloading his nerves, triggering a blindingly intense orgasm the likes of which Schuldig had never experienced. His entire body convulsed hard, those involuntary spasms of intense pleasure only spurred on the monster that Crawford had become.
Schuldig’s grip went lax, his thighs releasing their hold on Crawford’s waist. Neither slowed nor deterred Crawford’s primal fury. He gripped his prey tighter, fucked him harder, buried his face in the blood feast before him, oblivious to anything else.
Schuldig realized much too late what Crawford had been trying to warn him about in way too few words. He would never admit - not even to himself - that he was on the brink of losing all control. This was the logical outcome but Schuldig had never seriously entertained this possibility.
“…Br… ad…” Schuldig whispered his name. His muscles were growing weaker each second, his vision losing focus, his thoughts a haphazard jumble slowly sinking in a cold, grey mire. His arms and legs slid like dead weight from Crawford’s body, dropping to the bed like a ragdoll. Schuldig didn’t blame him. Somehow he wanted Crawford to know. But he no longer had the means, his vision growing dark, his muscles going entirely slack.
The beast on top of him noticed nothing.
Crawford drove himself higher and higher into an ecstatic orgy of sex and blood until finally he came. His hips jerked violently as his head tossed back with an unearthly roar. After several long, protracted minutes, he collapsed on top of Schuldig, oblivious to the world.
[ Chapter 1 ]