Categories > Anime/Manga > Weiss Kreuz
Bodyguard duty were normally boring as hell and seemingly never-ending, especially when the job only called for one person. No one to talk too, no one to safely annoy. Schuldig hated those kinds of missions and tried to avoid being assigned to them whenever possible. And normally he succeeded. Tact? What the hell was that?
Sometimes Crawford's lack of trust in him was a useful thing.
But somehow the German got stuck with Bore Duty with Mr. What's His Name, stuck in a typical Kyoto spa with typical simpering help, because his esteemed leader and co. were off killing Mr. Who's That Now? back in Tokyo.
Life, Schuldig had decided, was unfair. Standing to the right of his current employer, he tried his best not to look too bored during the business meeting. The tiny yawn might have given him away though. Not that he could help it. By this point in his life, he could mime the discussion taking place without using his telepathy.
Or his hearing, for that matter.
"I hope that we can come to some sort of understanding..." his employer droned on.
"We are in agreement. It would be most profitable to both of our respected companies," the other man droned back, hands clasped neatly on the table.
Schuldig refrained from snorting. Nagi would have been proud, had he been there. Which he wasn't and the telepath was right back to his original rant again.
Blah blah blah/. Dropping any pretense of listening, Schuldig let his mind wander. The normal goons in black suits were a mass of unimportance, pondering the life of dust bunnies and going over their grocery lists. Except one, oddly enough, and Schuldig focused in on that mind, noting the neat row of thoughts -books lined up for easy access. How interesting. Looking around, he eyed the man. A bodyguard, obviously. Long black hair, dark eyes behind glasses. A blank look on his face, as if he was trying to pass himself off as part of the décor, and the telepath resisted the urge to send a mental jab and /make the man's expression change. It wouldn't take much...
Then Schuldig drawn back to the meeting by a sharp stab of triumph from his corner.
Mr. What's His Name seemed pleased, his current thoughts circling around the theme of /My plan is falling into place/. Which was ironic, since his new ally was thinking the same thing only his inner maniacal laughter was better.
Still, this was good. If everyone was in agreement, they could wrap this up and head back. Schuldig allowed himself a tiny smirk.
"We will draw up the contracts immediately then-"
The smirk grew by half an inch.
"-and conclude our transactions tomorrow."
Life, Schuldig reaffirmed as the meeting room emptied, was most unfair.
Until, that is, he got his hands on the complimentary silk robe in his assigned room.
"Nngh," he said, rubbing it against his cheek for some time before growing impatient. He never was one for foreplay, after all. Undressing, he slipped the robe on with a low groan. Heaven/, he thought. /Pure, smooth, manufactured heaven.
Sprawling back on his futon, the telepath traced a hand down his torso, eyes closer and legs spread, cool silk and wanton flesh. He could see Crawford perfectly, imagined it was his hands on him, running nails over his skin. All pale skin and black hair, glass glinting coldly in the dull light. Crawford's hand around his cock, pulling, stroking, making him need as he always did, but then...
The dark hair was longer, skin paler, face less smug and more emotionless but cracking around the edges, harder, faster, making him arch his back-
The cheap paper door slid open and Schuldig's eyes opened lazily, noting a rather flushed - what was his name? Oh- Jin clutching the wooden frame with more force then strictly necessary.
Oops. Guess he was projecting. Well, in for the penny...
Schuldig moaned, hips bucking, absently noted the half-choked groan from across the small room, the startled protest, but why would that stop him anyways? Not now, when some small, weak part of Jin had just given in, adding heat and ice and a second wave of lust and Schuldig was /almost there/-
He cut the connection off abruptly before he climaxed, moaned low in his throat. Noted with some satisfaction that the spa wouldn't want their robe back now. Noted the angry, disbelieving face of a man denied and decided his job here was done.
"What," Jin asked, tone even on the surface but crackling with howling injustice below, "was that?"
Schuldig settled back and smirked. "Life."
**
AN: gift for ladysunflow, who wanted a cracktastic fic.
Sometimes Crawford's lack of trust in him was a useful thing.
But somehow the German got stuck with Bore Duty with Mr. What's His Name, stuck in a typical Kyoto spa with typical simpering help, because his esteemed leader and co. were off killing Mr. Who's That Now? back in Tokyo.
Life, Schuldig had decided, was unfair. Standing to the right of his current employer, he tried his best not to look too bored during the business meeting. The tiny yawn might have given him away though. Not that he could help it. By this point in his life, he could mime the discussion taking place without using his telepathy.
Or his hearing, for that matter.
"I hope that we can come to some sort of understanding..." his employer droned on.
"We are in agreement. It would be most profitable to both of our respected companies," the other man droned back, hands clasped neatly on the table.
Schuldig refrained from snorting. Nagi would have been proud, had he been there. Which he wasn't and the telepath was right back to his original rant again.
Blah blah blah/. Dropping any pretense of listening, Schuldig let his mind wander. The normal goons in black suits were a mass of unimportance, pondering the life of dust bunnies and going over their grocery lists. Except one, oddly enough, and Schuldig focused in on that mind, noting the neat row of thoughts -books lined up for easy access. How interesting. Looking around, he eyed the man. A bodyguard, obviously. Long black hair, dark eyes behind glasses. A blank look on his face, as if he was trying to pass himself off as part of the décor, and the telepath resisted the urge to send a mental jab and /make the man's expression change. It wouldn't take much...
Then Schuldig drawn back to the meeting by a sharp stab of triumph from his corner.
Mr. What's His Name seemed pleased, his current thoughts circling around the theme of /My plan is falling into place/. Which was ironic, since his new ally was thinking the same thing only his inner maniacal laughter was better.
Still, this was good. If everyone was in agreement, they could wrap this up and head back. Schuldig allowed himself a tiny smirk.
"We will draw up the contracts immediately then-"
The smirk grew by half an inch.
"-and conclude our transactions tomorrow."
Life, Schuldig reaffirmed as the meeting room emptied, was most unfair.
Until, that is, he got his hands on the complimentary silk robe in his assigned room.
"Nngh," he said, rubbing it against his cheek for some time before growing impatient. He never was one for foreplay, after all. Undressing, he slipped the robe on with a low groan. Heaven/, he thought. /Pure, smooth, manufactured heaven.
Sprawling back on his futon, the telepath traced a hand down his torso, eyes closer and legs spread, cool silk and wanton flesh. He could see Crawford perfectly, imagined it was his hands on him, running nails over his skin. All pale skin and black hair, glass glinting coldly in the dull light. Crawford's hand around his cock, pulling, stroking, making him need as he always did, but then...
The dark hair was longer, skin paler, face less smug and more emotionless but cracking around the edges, harder, faster, making him arch his back-
The cheap paper door slid open and Schuldig's eyes opened lazily, noting a rather flushed - what was his name? Oh- Jin clutching the wooden frame with more force then strictly necessary.
Oops. Guess he was projecting. Well, in for the penny...
Schuldig moaned, hips bucking, absently noted the half-choked groan from across the small room, the startled protest, but why would that stop him anyways? Not now, when some small, weak part of Jin had just given in, adding heat and ice and a second wave of lust and Schuldig was /almost there/-
He cut the connection off abruptly before he climaxed, moaned low in his throat. Noted with some satisfaction that the spa wouldn't want their robe back now. Noted the angry, disbelieving face of a man denied and decided his job here was done.
"What," Jin asked, tone even on the surface but crackling with howling injustice below, "was that?"
Schuldig settled back and smirked. "Life."
**
AN: gift for ladysunflow, who wanted a cracktastic fic.
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