Hidden

by scribblemoose

It was happening again. And however hard Crawford tried not to, he had to watch, whether he liked it or not.

He sat in the darkest corner of his very dark office, chin resting on steepled fingers, and closed himself off from the scenes in his head. His mind couldn't let the vision alone, but he could keep his feelings under control. Just.

He'd had a lot of practice.

It wasn't even anyone Schuldig really cared about. Some kid he'd picked up in a club; if he was actually eighteen like he'd said Crawford would eat Farfarello's knives. Sixteen, tops. But willing, nonetheless. No sooner behind the locked door of the room Schuldig had hired than he was squiriming pink and naked on the bed. And Schuldig loved it. Sucking and stroking and fucking and getting off on all the sordid fantasies running through the kids mind like porno movies.

He came twice, once in the ass, once on the boy's chest. A pattern with these one night stands of his. Like he had to mark them. Or had to treat them all the same.

There was a creak; the heavy door to Crawford's office opened and Schuldig leaned against the frame, twirling a strand of copper hair around his finger.

Crawford cleared his throat and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "You're late."

Schuldig shrugged. "Got sidetracked. I was playing with the kittens; you know how I get lost in Abyssinian's mind. It's like a puzzle, every thought a riddle to be solved, and all of it hot fire contained by rigid will and tasting like metal..." He strode across the room until the swish of his hair disturbed the air around Crawford's face. He held his ground. "Like yours."

"Oh, really? And since when could you read me?"

Irritation crossed Schuldig's face. "You're my lover. I don't need to read you. I know you."

And that was enough. Too close, and Crawford closed his fingers tight in Schuldig's hair and tugged, enough that Schuldig flinched and grinned and let him bend him back over one arm. He almost kissed him. Didn't. Pulled back at the last minute and took the moment of surprise to throw Schuldig at the big leather armchair beside his desk.

Schuldig growled in pleasure; draped himself on all fours over the arm of the chair and wiggled his tight littls arse. Crawford retrieved a tube from the second drawer in his desk, fingers brushing the cool metal of the gun that lay next to it. He reached around Schuldig's belly to snatch his pants open and off in three swift moves. Had him lubed and ready in the blink of an eye. Ready for him to plunge inside and fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Afterwards, when Schuldig sprawled, beautiful and mostly naked against the dark green leather of the armchair, he smiled at Crawford as if he were almost... happy. Crawford had to turn away, or he might have put his arms around his lover with something like tenderness; might have kissed him with more than lust; might have said something he knew with absolute cold certainty he would regret.

He swallowed it all down and stilled his mind, and turned his back until he heard the squeak of skin on dead, polished skin and Schuldig getting dressed.

"If you want," Schuldig said, one hand on the door knob, the other holding his jacket rumpled and dishevelled over one shoulder. "I could-"

"What?" said Crawford, his stare cold as ice.

A moment, just a beat, and Shuldig shrugged and turned away. "Nothing. Don't wait up. I'm going to a club."

Crawford watched him leave with a single thought in his head that he couldn't quite dislodge.

Tell me something I don't know.

~owari~

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