"He's insane," was the first thing Crawford said when he opened his office door. Eyes flat, the oracle stared down at the figure slumped next to the wall, like a ragdoll thrown in a fit of rage. "And doesn't feel pain."
Schuldig glared from under a fringe of red, angry and insolent. He absentmindedly wiped at the stream of blood coming from his nose and grimaced. "Thanks for the warning, Crawford. But I think it's a little late."
"Better late than never."
The telepath snorted as he braced himself against the wall, leaning on it heavily as he stood on still shaky legs. Annoyed, he spat blood onto the floor, smirking at the American's disgusted look. "You're lucky you don't have two lunatics on your team now. That wouldn't be a good way to start your oh so promising career."
"I'm not sure that I don't," Crawford muttered. Crossing his arms, he leaned against his doorframe. "I didn't order you to examine his mind."
Schuldig gave him a look that clearly said 'and you thought I /wouldn't/?'
"However," Crawford continued, "you passed a vital test, Schuldig. You're stronger than Rosenkreuz said. I assume they don't know the level of your strength." Not a question.
Smug bastard. Schuldig started to share his thoughts on the matter before deciding to let the issue go. It wouldn't hurt to let the American win a round. As it was, he had more interesting things to do. "I want to see him."
"Smug bastard. So where's the newest addition to Crawford's House of Oddities?"
"In the basement, locked up in one of the cells. You'll be in charge of him, Schuldig, so try to play nice. Understood?" Without waiting for an answer, Crawford turned back into his office, glasses flashing as light hit them, and closed the door.
The redhead ignored him, too busy thinking about the new toy in his toy box. As he made his way down the basement stairs, he absently wondered why they had two cells set up. Maybe Crawford was a kinky bastard as well as smug and Schuldig didn't know it.
Lips curling into a smirk, he decided that that had potential.
The farthest cell had a light streaming out from under the steel door, the only light in the dark room, and a harmonic chant drifted lazily into Schuldig's mind. Tempting, but the telepath wasn't venturing there again without permission. He liked his sanity, thanks so much, threadbare as it was at times. Pulling back the bolts, he tugged the door open and felt a chill go up his back at the sound. Ah, memories. Shaking his head, Schuldig stepped into the light.
Yellow was the first thing he noticed, sharp and bright as the most brilliant dagger. Young but wise, calm with chaos. "Cead mile failte."
"Hello, dollface." The name was absurd and they both knew it. Chuckling, the restrained man tilted his body forward towards his new visitor. A ruined mass of beautiful porcelain, pale cut jagged with coral scars, and two eyes stared back. One the color of cyanide, the other dull and unfocused like the pages of a long forgotten book.
Farfarello grunted his own approval. "Sinner."
Schuldig grinned. "One of the best." Stepping closer, he crouched in front of the white-haired man. "They say you don't feel pain, Farfarello." Fingers traced a scarred jaw, pressing down with sharp nails until red blossomed forth.
Farfarello stared back, impassively. "You know my name. I don't know yours, sinner."
"They call me Schuldig."
Farfarello tilted his head to the side, mouthing the word guilty with a look of bliss, then grinned in a way that sent another chill up the German's spine. "I will call you mine."
Well then. Schuldig shook his head in amusement and went to stand when two arms wrapped around him, tugging him forward until he straddled the younger man. Strait jackets, Schuldig decided, weren't made the way they used to be.
Pouting lips drew a line up his cheekbone, mimicking the scar on Farfarello's pale skin. A feeling of panic finally caught up with the German. He felt e must have somehow missed a step in this dance, pulled along by the strings by someone who had no right to. And he should have pulled back, backed out of the light until he regrouped, but that mouth wouldn't stop teasing and those hands wouldn't stay still.
Then one did, pressing down on his arousal, and Schuldig could only toss his head back and groan, lust pushing his hard earned common sense out the window.
"Do unto others..."
The pressure increased, pleasure and pain and pleasure mixing together too much, too fast, not enough.
"As you would have them.."
Bright colors behind his eyes -/pleasure pleasure pain pleasure more dammit/-
But not enough to hide the arc of quicksilver.
"...do unto you."
Schuldig shouted as he came, one hand clutching Farfarello's shoulder tightly, the other clasped against the line of pain across his jaw, felt the warm liquid seep through his fingers. Dazed blue eyes blinked and looked down.
Damned lips smirked back. "You are mine."
AN: gift for shaded_mazoku
Sign up to rate and review this story