Caught

by scribblemoose

"And what would your kitten say if he could see you now, I wonder?"

Schuldig threaded his fingers through Yohi's hair, pushed it back over his shoulders.

"We'll never know," said Yohji firmly. "That's the deal, remember? Aya doesn't get to find out. Otherwise I'll let Crawford in on the fact that you've been going directly against his orders by messing with us."

Schuldig took Yohji's earlobe between soft lips, and teased it with his tongue. "And do you want me to leave you alone, Balinese?"

A strangled moan escaped from Yohji's throat. "No," he admitted, his forehead resting on Schuldig's shoulder in submission. "Please, don't stop. Just... don't tell Aya."

"Your secret's safe with me, Balinese." Schuldig pressed his thigh against Yohji's rapidly hardening sex, captured his hands and raised them above his head.

"Oh, fuck, I want you," moaned Yohji. "Right now, here, only-"

"What, liebchen?"

"I just want you to know that..." Schuldig's eyes widened; Yohji guessed he'd already peeked into his mind and got a glimpse of what he was planning. Which made it all the more surprising that he gave only token resistance when Yohji twisted in his grasp and turned the tables on him, pushing him in one smooth move backwards onto the shabby hotel bed. "... I'm in charge," Yohji finished, swiftly straddling Schuldig's hips and grabbing his wrists. Pinning them above his head. Leaning down to kiss him.

He tasted of apples, and smelt of cinnamon. His body thrummed under Yohji's, offering just the resistance that was required by the game, no more. Yohji got the feeling that Schuldig didn't make a habit of letting his lovers shove him around; this was a special concession.

"Keep them there," said Yohji, stripping off his shirt and tossing it onto the floor by the bed.

"Or what will you do, kitty-cat?" Schuldig leered.

"I won't fuck you," said Yohji, leering right back. Enjoying the tiny flicker of fear that crossed Schuldig's face.

He clearly didn't like surprises.

"What makes you think I'll let you fuck me?"

Yohji popped the button of his jeans, and toyed with the zipper. "You want it," he said. "Don't have to be a telepath to see you're just panting for a good, hard fuck, Schuldig."

Schuldig wriggled under him, the hard ridge of flesh that dug into Yohji's ass rather proving his point. "And if that were true, do you think you're up to it, kitty?"

"Oh yes," said Yohji. "By the time I'm through with you, you're going to be so fucked you won't know what's hit you."

"Promises, promises," said Schuldig.

"Yes," said Yohji, softly. "Promises."

Enough banter. Time to get on with it. He'd looked forward to this day for so long. And Aya....

Yohji breathed deeply. He mustn't think about Aya. Not now. He couldn't.

So he concentrated instead on the lean, anxious body laid out in front of him. He stripped his prize slowly, kissed the stiff little nipples, ran his tongue down to dip into Schuldig's navel and further, swirling around the tip of his cock, lapping up precome. He had a pretty cock, pink and neatly hooded, not a monster but a nice handfull with enough left over to comfortably nestle in his mouth.

Yohji sucked and licked him until his balls were tight against the root of his cock, then stopped.

"Bastard," muttered Schuldig, squirming his ass against the matress, his prick twitching helplessly, abandoned. Yohji shuffled further down the bed, tapped on the inside of Schuldig's thigh.

"Open up," he said. "It's time."

"I-" Schuldig looked at Yohji with real doubt in his eyes. "I've never done this before," he said. "I always top."

"Not with me, you don't," said Yohji. "No-one tops me." Except Aya.

Damnit, no. Not Aya. This wasn't a good time to remember how it felt when Aya sank into his body, always slow and gentle and... No. Not Aya.

"Take it like a man," he told Schuldig, slicking his asshole with firm, knowing fingers drenched in lube. "Lie back and think of evil, or whatever it is you do. But you will take me."

Schuldig laughed. "If it means so much to you, leibling. Only try not to come too soon, eh?"

Yohji wan't slow, or gentle. But Schuldig seemed to like it anyway. He arched his back, arms straining, wrists still crossed above his head. Yohji concentrated hard on each thrust, taking him just to the edge again and again until finally, when Schuldig's cheeks were flushed dark pink, his skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat, vivid red hair fanned out over the gaudy red and orange bedspread; when he was panting and all but begging for it; when Yohji knew he had him, that as long as he lived, Schuldig would never forget this moment, then, and only then, he let him come.

Schuldig screamed once, and fell back; for one moment, as the pleasure pulsed through him in waves and his body shuddered, his mind went gloriously, blissfully blank.

Which was exactly what Yohji had hoped for.

* * * * * * *

"Yohji, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I brought you a present, Aya."

"A present?" Aya eyed him with restrained curiosity. "A rug?"

Yohji grinned. "Kind of," he said.

He put the rug on the floor and gave it a kick. There was a muffled squeak, and it rolled out over the floor between them, stopping at Aya's feet.

There, trussed up like a chicken with wire carefully positioned to ensure that any attempt to escape would result in the loss of a limb, was Schuldig.

Aya blinked down at him, unable to believe his eyes. "Yohji?"

"I said I'd get the bastard for you, and here he is." Yohji crossed the carpet to stand by Aya; he twined one eartail around his index finger, trailed the other across Aya's lower lip. "It took six months of meditation sessions and all sorts of zen shit, and other... stuff. But I got him for you."

Aya could only stare.

Yohji cupped Aya's chin in one hand, and kissed him.

"I always keep my promises, Kitten," he said. "You should know that by now."

Aya looked from Yohji to the cautiously-writhing Schuldig, and back again.

"What shall we do with him? Before I kill him, that is."

Yohji grinned.

"I'm sure we can think of something," he said.

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