Categories > Anime/Manga > Weiss Kreuz
Cold
Crawford/Schuldig here there be yaoi, don't tell me I didn't warn ya "Crawford was being the typical tightass, and Schuldig was being the typical smartass, earning him the startling bruises marki...
?Blocked
Cold - sex and violence, what else can you expect out of Schwarz?
Don't own em. They'd never get missions done if I did ^_~
Once again for the unsurpassable Fireun and once again horribly unbetaed.
Schuldig sat in the seedy bar that he had crawled into. Crawford was being the typical tightass, and Schuldig was being the typical smartass, earning him the startling bruises marking his neck where the Oracle had caught him. His hand shook as he picked up his drink, a snarl curling his lip as he tried to still his hand.
Bastard.
He gazed at the amber liquid in the glass, an insane part of his brain pointing out that it was almost the same color that Bradley...no Crawford's eyes turned when he was horny. When he was hunting. Not the flat, burnished copper that they were when he was being an over controlling, anal retentive bastard.
Crawford caught a handful of his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck, biting and sucking hard enough to draw a mark as Schuldig sank hilt-home in his lap, a growl echoing from someone's throat
He rubbed at his forehead, a migraine already in residence and a stress headache was deciding to join in on the fun. Oh, the joys of a perfect memory. Schuldig shot the rest of the rough whiskey back and motioned for another.
The calluses on his right hand caught at the expensive silk of Crawford's shirt as he pulled it out of the waistband of his pants. His hands immediately shoved down the back to squeeze the flesh there, pulling their bodies flush.
Schuldig groaned at the review reel going on behind his eyes, his head thunking on the bar a couple of times in a futile effort to turn it off.
The hand around his neck tightened, holding him against the wall as Crawford glared at him angrily. "I am the one in charge here, Mastermind. It doesn't matter what we do in the off time, I lead." The bastard had smirked then and leaned in, breath hot against Schuldig's ear as he spoke, "Besides, without your anchor, where would you be?" With that he threw Schuldig to the floor, not even turning when he stumbled coughing to his feet, and slammed the door behind him.
Schuldig slammed the next shot back as well, snarling out loud at the fact that Crawford was right. Even now, the mass of people pressed in on his shields, inner voices shouting at him as he tried to block. He made the person next to him at the bar pay his tab as he stalked out of the bar. Ten steps outside and he stopped, unsure for the first time since Crawford had stolen him as a child of where he was going.
Crawford was right. His shoulders slumped as he turned to make his way back to the Tower.
Don't own em. They'd never get missions done if I did ^_~
Once again for the unsurpassable Fireun and once again horribly unbetaed.
Schuldig sat in the seedy bar that he had crawled into. Crawford was being the typical tightass, and Schuldig was being the typical smartass, earning him the startling bruises marking his neck where the Oracle had caught him. His hand shook as he picked up his drink, a snarl curling his lip as he tried to still his hand.
Bastard.
He gazed at the amber liquid in the glass, an insane part of his brain pointing out that it was almost the same color that Bradley...no Crawford's eyes turned when he was horny. When he was hunting. Not the flat, burnished copper that they were when he was being an over controlling, anal retentive bastard.
Crawford caught a handful of his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck, biting and sucking hard enough to draw a mark as Schuldig sank hilt-home in his lap, a growl echoing from someone's throat
He rubbed at his forehead, a migraine already in residence and a stress headache was deciding to join in on the fun. Oh, the joys of a perfect memory. Schuldig shot the rest of the rough whiskey back and motioned for another.
The calluses on his right hand caught at the expensive silk of Crawford's shirt as he pulled it out of the waistband of his pants. His hands immediately shoved down the back to squeeze the flesh there, pulling their bodies flush.
Schuldig groaned at the review reel going on behind his eyes, his head thunking on the bar a couple of times in a futile effort to turn it off.
The hand around his neck tightened, holding him against the wall as Crawford glared at him angrily. "I am the one in charge here, Mastermind. It doesn't matter what we do in the off time, I lead." The bastard had smirked then and leaned in, breath hot against Schuldig's ear as he spoke, "Besides, without your anchor, where would you be?" With that he threw Schuldig to the floor, not even turning when he stumbled coughing to his feet, and slammed the door behind him.
Schuldig slammed the next shot back as well, snarling out loud at the fact that Crawford was right. Even now, the mass of people pressed in on his shields, inner voices shouting at him as he tried to block. He made the person next to him at the bar pay his tab as he stalked out of the bar. Ten steps outside and he stopped, unsure for the first time since Crawford had stolen him as a child of where he was going.
Crawford was right. His shoulders slumped as he turned to make his way back to the Tower.
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