The minute he heard the front door scrape open, Nagi abandoned the history text book he'd been staring blankly at for the past half an hour and scrambled out of his room. He found his boyfriend in the living room, meticulously draping his jacket over the back of the sofa.
"What happened to you?" Nagi asked, blearily scrubbing a fist over his eyes. "I thought you'd be here ages ago."
"Dinosaurs roamed the earth ages ago," Farfarello intoned, reaching out to touch Nagi cheek. "Ages have past since those ages."
Nagi followed him into the kitchen and watched him rummage for food. "You were at the studio this long?"
"For a while that was long." Farfarello noisy spilled milk into a bowl and then begin crumbling vanilla wafer cookies into it. "But then I went to see Ken and that was for a long while even longer."
A little prick of jealousy stabbed at Nagi at the mention of Ken's name. It was lame to feel jealous, especially since he himself liked Ken quite a bit but it was quite the rare thing for Farfarello to actually like someone. Somehow, during that whole ironing business, it seemed that Ken had unconsciously charmed his way into Farfarello's highest esteem.
"Oh yeah?" Nagi remarked in a would-be causal voice. "For what?"
Farfarello didn't answer right away. He was busy mashing the banana he'd added to his bowl of milk-wafer with a metal whisk. "To give him the picture I made for him," he finally replied, splashing gunky milk all over the spotless surface of the kitchen table.
"You gave Ken a picture?" Farfarello had never painted him a picture.
"So he would know."
Farfarello looked up from his whisking and blinked his one eye a few times. Surprise marked his features, as though he'd just noticed Nagi's presence. "I like Ken," he declared, licking the thick gloop that clung to the whisk. "He likes to do ironing when he doesn't have to, did you know that?"
"Yeah, so I heard."
"He likes you too," Farfarello added. "He said he played video games with you." He found a ladle and began slurping his milk mixture from it. "He's not Schu's pretend boyfriend anymore, did you know that too?"
"He's not?" This was news to Nagi. He'd assumed that when Schuldich disappeared a couple of days ago, it had been with Ken in some grand scheme of them moving out together to fuel Brad's jealousy. Between his endless schoolwork and extracurricular activities, he hadn't the time to follow Schuldich's latest string of dramas. "How come? Did he decide he wanted out?"
Farfarello shook his head. "Schu decided he didn't want a pretend boyfriend anymore. I think he doesn't want Crawford either. I don't think he'll be back...he'll be backless at least."
"But-" Nagi blinked and felt tongue-tied. Schuldich loved Brad, had since day one. Everything was about Brad and making him love Schuldich. Wasn't that the whole purpose of Ken being around in the first place? "Why didn't you tell me all this when Schu first left? I thought he and Ken took off for a few days for dramatic, jealousy purposes."
"They're not thespians," Farfarello stated with the air of one instructing a child, ignoring Nagi's question completely.
"Well we have to go see him right now! We have to find out what's going on. Schu's probably super upset and drunk too. If Brad gets home and Schu's not here, Brad'll kill him!"
The Irish man nodded sagely. "And maybe even Ken too. But I won't let that happen."
Nagi rolled his eyes. "Well hurry up and eat your food. I'll call a cab and change into normal clothes. It's gonna take us like two hours at least to get to Schu's place. Do you even remember the address?"
"We can't go to his house now." Farfarello licked his ladle. "It's a school night."
"Are you kidding me?" Nagi huffed. Now was a great time for Farf to act his mother! "Schu left us! I don't care about school. I want to hear what's going on straight from him. I'm going to have to figure out what to tell Brad, if he really moved out for good."
"But Ken's over there right now," Farfarello remarked. "They're going to sew things up. If we went there we'd be the ninth wheels."
"It's not going to make much of a difference if we go there for just a little bit," Nagi insisted. "I feel bad. It's been like what three days? I didn't even know Schu was gone for good. This is depressing. I'll miss him!"
"He isn't dead." Farfarello slowly blinked one eye at him. "You can still see him Nagi. He just doesn't live here anymore. He hasn't gone to the black void, obviously."
"Yes I realize that," Nagi said impatiently. "I only meant that want to see him and I don't think that we-"
"The front door has opened," Farfarello interrupted dropping his ladle back into his bowl with a loud splat. Milky banana sludge slopped all over the table.
Nagi stood up, wiping at his splattered sleeve. "See, I knew he'd back. I mean he only loves my-"
Farfarello grabbed Nagi's wrist with sticky fingers and pulled him back down. "It's Crawford."
"What?" Nagi paused to listen. He heard the front closet door closing. Schuldich never used the front closet, preferring like the rest of them to toss his jacket onto the living sofas. "Brad's not supposed to be back for another two weeks at least," he hissed in a panicked voice.
Farfarello shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned. He dipped his finger in a frothy puddle beside his bowl and licked it. "Crawford's home."
Firm footfalls were now striding up the corridor. The walk wasn't Schuldich's walk, not at all.
Crawford really was home.
"Okay act casual," Nagi whispered and immediately felt stupid. Farfarello always acted the same, no matter what the situation. "We have to ease him into this. And we absolutely can't let him know Ken's with Schu right now or he'll murder them both."
"Dead like daffodils," Farfarello agreed and went back to lapping up spilt froth.
Brad entered the kitchen, looking both impeccable and intimidating in a suit of pure black wool.
"Brad hi!" Nagi greeted as enthusiastically as he could. While Brad was hardly a caring sort of man, he did have quite the soft spot for Nagi. Nagi figured if anyone could placate Brad, it would be him. "What're you doing home so early? I missed you!"
Brad's foreboding expression eased. He never liked to display his curt anger around his younger half-brother. "We closed the deal a lot sooner then I'd anticipated." He tousled Nagi's hair and nodded in Farfarello's direction. "How are you, Farfarello?"
"Like metacarpi poking from flesh," Farfarello answered serenely.
"I see." Brad glanced at his watch and asked offhandedly, "Where is Schuldich?"
Nagi looked over at his boyfriend, who had resumed whisking his bowl of mush. Clearly there wasn't going to be much help from that department. "Er...it would seem that...now Brad don't get mad 'cause it's not that big a deal but...um...Schuldich kinda left."
Brad's face remained impassive but his eyes did narrow behind his glasses. If Nagi hadn't been looking for a reaction, he wouldn't have caught the tiny gesture. "Is he with Ken?"
"No no, it's nothing like that," Nagi hastily assured the man. He had to suppress a wince at the derision in Brad's voice when he spoke Ken's name. This wasn't going to be pretty, that was for sure. "It's more like...er...he just decided..." How to put this delicately?
Farfarello wasn't concerned with propriety or the wrath of Brad's temper. "He moved out," he piped up. "A few days ago. He said he's not coming back. He's gone like the hoop skirt, didn't you know?"
Nagi now suppressed the urge to groan.
"Moved out where?" Brad's tone was succinct, quiet. Nagi knew there was an explosion waiting to happen behind those words.
"Back to his house of course," Nagi quickly chimed in. "And not with that Ken guy or anything. They're only friends and don't see each other...hey where are you going?"
"I want him here," Brad replied imperiously, striding into the living room. "I have work for him to do."
Nagi chased after him. "Come on Brad, you just got here! You need food and a proper rest and all that. Give it until morning at least." He grabbed the older man's wrist and stopped him. "Please Brad? Let's just hang out tonight, you and me. I haven't seen you in ages. Schu isn't going anywhere. I bet he's drunk out of his mind right now and angry that you've been gone for so long. You know how rash and sulky he can get sometimes. Just give him a bit of time alone to brood and he'll be back here before you know it." Nagi blinked up at Brad with wide eyes. "This is Schu's real home and we both know how much he cares about you. He'd do anything for you. He'd never leave you."
Brad scrutinized him for a few moments and then came to the decision that Nagi knew he would. "You're right, of course. Schuldich wouldn't dare leave, he needs me too much. He has nothing else, afterall." He smiled thinly and placed a hand on Nagi's shoulder. "You change out of your school clothes, I'll shower and then I'll take you to that high rise restaurant you like."
"Can Farfarello come?"
"Of course," Brad replied dismissively, heading down the hallway.
Nagi waited until he heard the door to Brad's room shut before racing into the kitchen. "You make sure Brad doesn't come in here," he ordered, pulling his boyfriend to his feet. "I'll call Schu and warn him."
Farfarello leaned down and kissed Nagi soundly. "You know how to play with the marionettes," he stated and padded out of the kitchen.
Nagi yanked out his cell phone and speed-dialled Schuldich's cell. There were a few rings before his voice mail came on.
"Schu you dumb shit are you there? Brad just came home and he's super pissed that you're not around. Your stupid plot worked like charm 'cause he's definitely jealous over Ken and if he finds out that Ken's with you, you guys'll be history! I just conned him into thinking that you're in a pissy rage and will be home soon. He'd much rather you come to him, naturally. Anyway, I'll keep him busy for as long as I can, you get rid of Ken and then come home soon so we can figure something out."
Nagi snapped his cell phone shut and joined his boyfriend. "Ken's dead meat," he muttered, sliding into Farfarello's arms.
"Dying carcasses always attract flies," Farfarello intoned. He rested his chin atop Nagi's head.
"I don't think Schu shouldn't be with Brad."
Nagi had said those words, both to Schuldich as well as to his boyfriend, and they never ceased to make him feel like a traitor. He loved Brad, the stern man was the only family he had but even he couldn't deny that Brad didn't treat Schuldich well. Schuldich deserved better then Brad; Nagi had known that from day one.
Farfarello touched Nagi's hair. "I don't think so much of that either."
The words hung between them.
I want you to stay...and be here.
"Well I am here," Ken said unnecessarily. His voice sounded a bit too loud in the sudden still of the room. He had no idea what to say...or what Schuldich was even asking him. With fumbling fingers that he clumsily wrenched from Schuldich's cool grip, he gulped down a big splash of his green martini and felt warm choke into his chest. "What...er...what are you asking me, exactly?"
Schuldich contemplated for a few, uneasy moments. Then he picked up the scraggly piece of paper that was sitting under an empty beer stein and thrust it at Ken. "Here's your answer."
Ken glanced down at the paper. It was covered in stains and a loopy scrawl that was written in pink glitter ink. He looked back up at Schuldich and asked, rather boldly he thought, "To which question?"
Schuldich's expression was unreadable. "Read it and you'll know."
The ink hurt Ken's eyes. He held the spotty, smeared paper about an inch from his face, squinted his eyes and began to read. After a few seconds, he was snickering. By the end of it he was laughing.
How are you? I am fine. You are a shitty jerk. Why don't you go stick your head in a blender and press puree?
If you think I'm just some annoying punk hanging around your apartment all day then you're dumber than a boulder. You're lucky I help you with your work all the time because if I didn't then you'd have to pay someone to do what I do for free. You should be thanking all the Gods that I'm a real bargain.
I don't even snore dipshit.
Sometimes you know how to make me so mad. If you think I love you then you better think again Chief. I love you like I love a heel to the head. That means I don't love you because I don't love heels to the head, get it? Plus you suck a whole crapload because you don't know *jack shit*. That's why I'm dumping you like last week's left over pork udon.
PS: I can read your mind, bimbo.
"Beautiful isn't it?" Schuldich looked beatific. "A work of true penmanship, I'd say. Shame I didn't write it in calligraphy."
Ken skimmed over the letter again, hooting. "You can't give him this, you called him a 'bimbo'!"
"And 'dipshit' too, don't forget." Schuldich winked at him. "It took a load of work to make it look that shitty. I actually had to put effort into the letter, which is more then bimbo deserves, lemme tell you."
"Hey pal, it's your death warrant." Ken set aside the letter. All in all, he was rather awed by Schuldich's daring. "You're dumping him? Seriously?"
Schuldich toasted him with his beer bottle. "Yeah I am, I have to. He had it coming, that's for sure."
"But why now? Sure he was a bastard but from what you've told me, sounds like he was always a bastard. I mean you knew about Emilia ages before the other night right? So what changed?" Ken hesitated and then added, "If you still want me to be your pretend boyfriend then I will. I don't mind, really I don't. If you love the guy then I'll-"
"I do love him," Schuldich interrupted earnestly, pushing aside his drinks. "I can't help myself. I still love Brad and that isn't gonna disappear any time soon. Part of me wants to take you up on your offer and go on with the stupid charade. I still want him and I can't help that either. But then I think about our last conversation and I'm reminded of how weak and desperate I am. It's pathetic and I'm through with being pathetic. I'm not doing that shit again, especially not with you. I'm not sorry I scrounged you for this scheme because I wouldn't have met you otherwise but you've come to mean something to me. I'm not going to put you in the line of Brad's possessive anger, not anymore."
"Um...thanks?" Ken was heartily relieved. He didn't much fancy the idea of a murderous American with a murderous American weapon shooting him point blank in a deserted alleyway or something.
Schuldich seemed in a mood to talk; willing to share all his newfound revelations. He went on as though Ken hadn't spoken. "I've done a lot of thinking these past few days, like mad thinking. I made lists and everything. You know what I came up with?" He waited for Ken to nod. "I came up with this scenario...a plausible scenario. Picture this...it's like five years in the future and Brad's married to Emilia or someone appropriate like her. He lives in this huge house with his perfect trophy wife and his perfect two point five kids. He works hard, he socializes with his wife at all these fancy events, he plays with his kids and on the weekends he comes by to fuck me. Just another possession in his perfect world." Schuldich scowled blackly. "Yeah, well guess what? I don't think so pal. I don't deserve that mediocre shit. It hurts now but that scenario would hurt way more. I'm not a closet trophy of his and I don't want to be second to a wife. So fuck that."
"Good for you." Ken was quite impressed by the Schuldich's speech. "The guy's an asshole. You're much better off without him."
Schuldich nodded, satisfied by Ken's response. "Exactly. It's been long enough. I really would give anything for him to love me like how I love him but it's pretty obvious that it's not gonna happen. Everyone else could see it but me. I guess I just kept hoping...and I can read fucking minds." He snorted self-depreciatingly. "His call opened my eyes. The way he thought I didn't give a shit about his work, after all the hours I put in planning and organizing his stupid affairs...how self-occupied can you get? Nagi and Farfarello have been telling me for ages that Brad isn't good enough for me. Never struck home." Schuldich reached across the cramped table and ruffled Ken's hair affectionately. "Some of it also had to do with you. I thought about how much you loved Ran and how you gave him up. It wasn't an easy choice to make but he's not holding you back anymore. You're free to do whatever you want now."
"Yeah, I guess I am," Ken agreed, sipping at his green martini. He hadn't thought about his break-up with Ran as a liberating experience but it rang true all the same. He was free, of Ran and of Yohji too. He could do anything he wanted to, he really could. "Birman helped me a lot though. She forced me to open my eyes and see that Ran didn't have it in him to love me like I wanted him to. Sometimes it's pretty hard to argue with your feelings, no matter what your head says."
"That's true." Schuldich touched his hand. "So you have my answer kiddo. What's yours?"
Ken stared down at Schuldich's pale fingers and was reminded of Farfarello's painting. Was this what the Irish man had been trying to say? "You want me to stay with you? Here, for the entire night?"
"...yeah. I guess I do." Was there a slight bit of hesitancy in Schuldich's voice?
It was as though the past few days hadn't happened, as if they hadn't been separated. Schuldich hadn't hurt Ken with his abrupt dismissal and Ken wasn't here to say good-bye. They were still friends, brought together by circumstance and bound by mutual need and similarity. Tonight was just another session of relationship purging, like they'd been doing since that first night outside of the 'Electropolis' nightclub. And now that they were both back to being single, worthless boyfriends a thing of the past, mostly...there was a whole other realm their friendship could evolve into.
Which was something that scared Ken. He had stayed with Schuldich for money and still had gotten hurt because he'd come to care for Schuldich as a friend. How much worse would that hurt have been had he and Schuldich been something...more? Because there was an attraction between then, Ken was certain of it. He himself liked Schuldich more then he should and much more then was safe.
"I can't," Ken muttered, pulling his hand away. "It wouldn't be a good idea. You know that as well as I do."
"Why?" Schuldich's eyes bore into him like he was trying to read his mind.
Ken had to know for sure. He took a breath and blurted out, "Are you attracted to me?"
Beneath his very eyes, Schuldich's gaze became smouldering. "You have to ask?"
Ken blinked. The answer was slightly throaty and hearing it made his stomach tremble. "Then that's why I can't stay."
"Yeah, you probably shouldn't." Schuldich downed the rest of his beer in one deep swig. He wiped his mouth with his arm. "I hurt you that day, I know it. You're just coming off of a serious relationship. I still love Brad. Ran wants you back." A loaded pause. "But..."
Ken's breath caught. "But?"
"Logic was never my strong suit," Schuldich drawled, smirking slightly. "Why do you think I stayed with Brad all this time? I'm a fucking idiot and I want you to stay here because I like you. You're easy to talk to, you're interesting, you're kind and you're funny." Then he added, as an afterthought, "And I wanna bang you."
"Erm..." Ken didn't know how to respond to that. His face felt very hot. "You...uh do?"
"Yeah, hell." Schuldich deliberately checked Ken out. "You got that hot jock body. I'm just hot period. I haven't had sex since Bardy left and I know you've been living green since that shit dumped you. Why don't we just eliminate the middlemen and go at it?"
"But that shit just dumped me." Ken hurriedly drank more of his martini. Something told him he was going to need an extra bit of courage for this turn in the conversation. "I'm like on the rebound or whatever you call it."
"And Ran wants you back," Schuldich reminded him, examining a bottle of candied cherries.
"Yeah he does." Ken sighed loudly. That was a whole other drama that he just didn't have the energy to deal with. "And you love Brad, remember? You're strong and determined now but if you see him and he looks all good and stuff, you just might end up going back to him."
"Yeah, he is my weakness," Schuldich agreed, tilting his head sideways. "Hey, if I try to get back with Brad you'll beat my head in right?"
"Sure. And if I try to get back with Ran or Yohji...?"
"I'll hit you too."
There was a lengthy silence.
Ken chewed on his lip and studied the table before while Schuldich made a production of wiping the sticky maraschino cherry bottle on his letter to Crawford. This was some kinda turn of events...and Ken didn't know whether it was all the alcohol Schuldich had consumed talking or what. Have sex with Schuldich...less then a week after being dumped by Yohji...all the while Ran still wanted him back? Ken was no male whore, thanks very much! He'd never, ever had casual sex with anyone before and he wasn't about to start now. It was such a seedy thing to do. And even if it wasn't...well it would only lead to a whole load of complications later on. Who knew, Schuldich might even change his mind about Crawford upon seeing him on Japanese soil. From what Ken understood, Crawford didn't seem like the sort of guy who'd take being dumped easily. He'd probably pound Schuldich some, physically and sexually and then drag him back to his fancy sky-rise apartment.
"You wanna tour of the house or something?"
Ken looked at the redhead and felt a spark of...something. Schuldich was decent and Crawford was nothing more then a stupid American bastard who didn't deserve the telepath. Ken couldn't bring himself to answer negatively, even though his head was telling him to bust a right move. "I guess."
Schuldich stood and wove his way through the stacks of books and papers that littered the floor. He hadn't lied; drinking really hadn't impaired his balance at all.
Ken pinched his nose and drank the rest of his verdant martini in one straight gulp. "Whoa there's a swizzle." He carefully rose to his feet, his head feeling light-headed. "What the hell's in that hoopla?"
"Midori liqueur, green apple vodka, Triple Sec and lime cordial." Schuldich smirked, kicking aside some stray papers as he approached Ken. "Can't handle your booze, kiddo?"
"Pfft. I can handle anything I want to," Ken bragged. His chest felt incredibly warm. "I'm stronger then people gimme credit for. So my boyfriend dumped me. Big deal. So my ex wants me back just after I got over him. Bigger deal. I don't need either of those shitty asshats. Screw them, they can kiss my ass."
"Yeah? Well I want in on that," Schuldich said huskily, striding close to Ken.
Not to put too fine a point on it but very close.
Ken took a hasty step backward. The backs of his knees collided with the coffee table and he would've fallen backwards on his ass in a heap of bottled liquor and empty glasses had Schuldich not caught hold of his wrist. He yanked Ken up against his long, lean body hard.
"I always thought that ass of yours was pretty damn fine," Schuldich drawled out, skimming his hands around Ken's waist very slowly. His blazing gaze belied his casual tone.
"Erm..." Ken's eyes felt enlarged. He didn't know how to deal with a sexually flirty and touchy Schuldich! He squirmed in Schuldich's arms. The redhead was invading his personal space like how. "You don't say."
"I do say," Schuldich murmured, his lips falling upon the curve of Ken's ear. He matched Ken's wiggling with measured shifts of his own.
The pit of Ken's stomach dipped as though he was flying downwards at unnatural speeds. Schuldich grinding as doing very naughty things to his body. Ken pulled away as far as Schuldich's arms would allow and rubbed his ear against his shoulder. "Stop that, it's tickling!"
"Good." Schuldich slipped roving hands downwards and groped at Ken's ass. Grinning at the surprised yelp his squeezings wrung from the boy, he ground his hips against Ken's with smooth motions intended solely to tease. "Keep wiggling kiddo, I like that."
Ken gulped in air. "What are-" The words were cut from him as Schuldich began to nuzzle the length of his neck. He had to struggle to speak. This was not right at all...and hell, how was he supposed to think clearly when Schuldich kept moving like that? "Are you...um...are you still gonna...show me your house?"
Schuldich didn't bother to answer. Instead he kissed him with liquor-laced lips. Ken gasped in shock and realized one frantic heartbeat later that he probably sounded like a gutted chicken but Schuldich didn't seem to care. Desire was tangible between them, evident in the carnal way Schuldich devoured his mouth, the way he pushed wildly against slim hips, bulging hardness. An overwhelming, sensual rush slathered over Ken. His every sense was warping, each heightened to dizzying peaks. Logic and all the things that made up his reality fell apart. His awareness of things other then Schuldich dissipated; there was only the telepath between him and over him and around him.
Ken moaned as Schuldich's tongue tangled with his own. He could taste a hundred things Schuldich brought to him, all of them drenched, and intoxicating and striving to make him light-headed. The pit of his stomach trembled as his body rose from warm to scorching. He found himself winding his arms around Schuldich's neck and riding those sexy, undulating movements.
"You want me," Schuldich whispered against swollen lips. One hand moved to slip around front and scribbled high upon the inside of Ken's thigh. There but not there.
Ken panted, clenching his eyes shut. "No I don't," he whispered back, his tongue tracing a moist line over the full curve of Schuldich's bottom lip. "We're not gonna have sex when we haven't even known-uhhhh!" Now they were there, those certain, questing fingers, right there, where they needed to be and where they felt so good. Ken shoved forward with hasty, clumsy thrusts, unable to find the willpower to stop.
The smirk was palpable in the German man's voice. "Who said anything about having sex?"
"What d'you call this smart ass?" Ken wheezed, arching his neck and feeling damp lips mark his burning skin.
"I call this fondling," Schuldich murmured, jerking covered flesh skilfully. "And I call this..." Dexterous fingers unbuttoned and unzipped cargo pants in scant moments before slipping inside constraining boxer shorts. "Tell me what I should call this, Kenny boy."
Ken cried out, his heart vaulting. He squirmed in those cool, scrabbling fingers. "Manipulation of the situation," he managed thickly.
Schuldich sounded smug. "You want some more manipulation?"
"No," Ken groaned, shifting his hips quicker. His entire body was feverish, bright with sweaty twists. He was holding onto the telepath so tightly he could hardly stand it. He wanted things he knew but couldn't name for the life of him...he wanted his bones to melt into the other's so those aching shifts would be doubled and solid. It was too much and not enough. Whimpering, Ken bent one knee hooked against Schuldich's hip; to bring him deeper into that immobile grasp. "M-may...maybe."
Schuldich's voice was low, breathy. "You're getting off on this." He tightened his fingers around Ken and began fisting in light, languid pumps. "I can't read your mind kiddo. Tell me how much you like this."
Ken huffed into Schuldich's ear and licked at smooth skin. "Faster," he panted, leaking prefluid into scantily-brushing digits. "Schuldich..." Since it was fairly obvious that this was going to happen and that it was going to be so good, Ken decided it wasn't enough, that barely there grip. Urgency as viscous as the pleasure rolling from behind his groin wavered over Ken. He had to feel naked skin, had to return this engulfing lust. Holding onto Schuldich's shoulder with a biting clasp, he pressed his hand against the closure of low slung jeans and fumbled. After gauchely managing to yank them open, he stuffed his hand down Schuldich's pants to find that the guy was going commando. Shit. He passed his palm over the expanse of erect flesh, drawing a breathy moan from the redhead.
"That's sweet," Schuldich groaned, lapping moist paths down the curve of Ken's neck. He angled his pelvis into the boy's eager clinch as he began jerking Ken in faster, rougher strokes.
There was nothing tethering Ken to the ground but the German. Both awkward and forceful in his haste, Ken mashed his crying mouth onto Schuldich's. The pleasure was too much for him to bear, too incredibly intense. They were uneven in their passion, movements out of sync and hurried and sloppy and so damn insistent. The flesh, the taste, the angling...all of it was new to Ken and it was sweet, for all that it was. And unbearably arousing to both, beyond experience and expectation.
Schuldich tore his mouth from the boy's and abruptly released him. Ken whimpered in response, tightening his hold upon the stiff, hard length throbbing inside the circle of his fingers. Schuldich broke his hold and shoved Ken backwards into the upright, cushy embrace of a wingchair. Then Schuldich was back, on his knees, pushing open Ken's pants and there was no prelude, no teasing, no enticing. Just his mouth...working there...
Ken struggled not to scream. He didn't know whether he was successful or not. Schuldich was all around him, every inch of Ken's aching hardness slick and hot and marked. Had it ever been this drenched, this searing before? Had his stomach ever writhed so harshly? Had he ever felt the need to dominate so completely? Why was restraint such a foreign concept? Why he so close to the edge when they'd only just started? Where was this sheer urgency coming from?
There were long, soggy strokes and pursed lips. There were kitten-laps soaking up precream. There were saliva scrawls down below, where his churning liquid sought a desperate escape. And now it was all there again, enshrouded in fluid warmth and self-control really was nothing more then an abstract concept sort of like...
Ken choked, his hips arcing from the chair and into the utter sex of Schuldich's lips. He was chanting mindless, endless nonsense, comprised of the German's name and pointless exclamations. His body was so tight, drawn like a wire strung between two points and it seemed to crest forever and not for even an instant, this cloying lust, and everything was so concentrated and so muted all at once and he couldn't tell up from down but only knew that he was going somewhere, anywhere and that it was fucking tremendous and then...then...
"Oh hell," Ken wheezed, his body dropping back lax into the chair. Schuldich was still there, around him, coaxing and catching all and the last bit. Ken touched vibrant hair with weak, trembling fingers. A shudder ran throughout his body when Schuldich looked up and gave him a frothy smirk.
"Like that goalie boy?" Voice so throaty, sounding exactly like what it had just been doing. Schuldich pushed aside coarse material and pressed his lips onto Ken's quivering thigh.
"Shouldn't've..." Why wasn't air going into his lungs? His chest heaved at the effort to breathe. He was still trembling. "Shouldn't've done that..."
"But I wanted to," Schuldich murmured, peeling apart his own jeans. His hand disappeared and he groaned softly. "Wanted to since...uhhh...found you watching soccer...middle of the morning...that fi-first day...so fucking cute..."
Ken bonelessly slid out of his chair and fell against Schuldich, sending them both to the carpet. "Lemme," he whispered, his hands eagerly roaming beneath Schuldich's shirt, over lean muscles and hard nipples.
Schuldich's breath was unsteady. His hands rose to entwine in Ken's hair. "Gonna...manipulate the situation?"
"Yeah, I'll manipulate your situation, kiddo." Ken decided he liked having the upper hand, liked how Schuldich made soft cries as he slid those lanky jeans down lean hips and skimmed his fingers over smooth, sweaty thighs, liked how Schuldich was moaning for him to touch him where he needed it the most.
He'd never really had the opportunity to tease before. It was pretty satisfying to have someone's orgasm rest entirely on your pace and your ministrations, Ken idly thought as he swallowed as much sexflesh as his mouth could hold.
It was different then what he was used to, a different taste and texture and size and those differences were what made it delicious. He'd never much enjoyed this sort of task, never doing so with Ran and only occasionally with Yohji. He hadn't intended to now either, to tell the truth; had only meant to use fingers and the eroticism of his grip but Schuldich's noises were so sexy and he found himself lowering his head for just one lick of one drooling drop...
Schuldich was muttering in German, words that sounded racy and shocked and out of breath. Ken liked that also and especially liked this. The redhead's grip on his hair bordered on painful; Ken didn't care. His used his oral muscle to caress the taut, pulsating length and used the insides of his cheeks to cradle and sheath. He found he didn't mind this, for whatever odd reason. Schuldich's pleasure was all that mattered. Ken renewed his enthusiastic endeavours, flicking and squirming and fondling, using his hands and mouth and tongue. A few frenzied moments and he was rewarded with a sharp thrust of bucking hips hard into his mouth. Stiffened limbs, painful clench, heated rigidity and then that.
Ken gagged and tried to swallow the onslaught of copious, acerbic fluid. He managed to keep some in, the rest dribbled down his chin and onto sweaty skin and faded jeans.
"S-sorry," he choked, sitting back and scrubbing at his face with one wrinkled sleeve. "Never was too good at-"
Schuldich's lips covered speaking ones in a demanding kiss. Two sorts of bitter milk slathered them, strange and familiar and sexy.
"We have all night to practice," Schuldich promised, licking the side of Ken's neck in a slow, luscious trail. "I still owe you don't I? Can't keep my pseudo-boyfriend waiting..."
"But...but this isn't a good idea. Remember?" Ken found himself groping with the buttons to Schuldich's shirt. Why weren't the friggin' things coming undone? "'Cause it'll complicate our relationship and our ex-boyfriends'll get pissed and then Birman'll get mad at me for being bad after I just got dumped and...I'm not drunk am I?"
Schuldich kissed him again, hard, and Ken decided that he didn't much care if he was or not.