Categories > Anime/Manga > Weiss Kreuz

Love in an Elevator

by fey_puck 1 review

Pretty self-explanatory, don't ya think? Schuldig/Youji

Category: Weiss Kreuz - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor - Characters: Schuldig, Youji - Published: 2005-09-21 - Updated: 2005-09-22 - 390 words - Complete


Youji tapped his foot in annoyance, eyes glancing around the near empty lobby a couple times before settling on the blinking numbers up above him. Dull business, papers that needed to be passed on, and of course the others left it up to him. Now he was stuck waiting for a damn elevator when he could be being fawned over by young lovelies.

His bland expression shifted into a glare.

Honestly, who really needed thirty-three floors in one building? The flower shop only had two and they got along fine.

Some of the time at least.

Well, not really.

Maybe they should ask Persia about adding on to the shop...




Sighing, he considered taking the stairs. Only fifteen flights to go up after all. But the idea alone made his smoker lungs wheeze in protest and complaint and the idea was dismissed quickly.

You're not the healthiest assassin, are you Kitten?

Youji groaned, cursed, prayed, then concentrated harder on the blinking numbers. They were the lesser of two evils.

Tsk. Ignoring me won't make me go away. Just ask Crawford.

The truth sucked sometimes.




"And you should no better anyways, Kitten, after all our little encounters."

"Schuldig," he stated. Acknowledged. Hoped without much hope that the other man would leave.



The blonde assassin practically ran into the elevator in an effort to get away- by going into an enclosed space and didn't that just make perfect sense?- and breathed a sigh of relief.

"In a hurry?" was purred into his ear, making him jump and turn around, blood and adrenalin racing through him. One look at whatever promise was in those sly eyes made everything head south of the border.

Perfect. Just...perfect.

The doors closed with an ominous thud and they rose. Hands on either side of his head, lips pressed against his, hands working the front of his jeans, inside his jeans. Touching, stroking, teasing. Driving him mad was the German's new favorite pastime and this was the surest, easiest, most gratifying way. Hard and fast and almost, almost-


Hands were gone. Mouth was missing. Something was definitely wrong with that.

"Sorry, Kudo. Fourteenth floor is my stop. Later."

That damned smirk was there and his brain caught up to what was happening.

"Schuldig! You son of a-"

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