[Weiß Kreuz] Hunting
Title: Hunting Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexual content Author: Trio Maxwell-Chang Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Pairing or POV: Nagi/Aya (Implications of Yohji/Aya) Written for: petermaxwell Special Note: Because when I asked, he told me what to write. A continuation of Sewing, although it can be standalone as well.
Nagi stretched, staring at the outfit's effect in the mirror. He had to admit, the black leather and sleek black fur mixture created a certain 'come hither' air to his appearance. He settled the furry ears on his head, admiring the way they looked when mixed with his own black hair.
"Brings out your eyes," said Schuldig, from the doorway. Nagi frowned, tempted to slam the door in his face. Instead, he let the German remain, glancing back solemnly to raise one eyebrow at the redhead. "It does," Schuldig reiterated, sauntering in to flop on the bed. At the movement, the other eyebrow raised, but Schuldig paid it no mind.
"Why are you here, Schuldig?" Nagi asked tiredly, floating the plush doll away from his pillow. The thought of Schuldig's hands on it made his skin crawl somehow, and he carefully tucked the doll into his trenchcoat pocket. Drawing the coat around his slender frame, he turned back to the mirror. The black, weather-proof material swallowed him, and with his hair down, his face seemed almost lost amidst a sea of ebony.
"Brad said to mention to you that Abyssinian would be at the 'Dark Cat' tonight." Schuldig turned on the bed, laying his head on the pillow and spreading out against the dark coverlet. **Going hunting for kittens tonight?**
At the news, Nagi's head shot around, his eyes widening slightly. One hand stole into his pocket, squeezing the doll and releasing the scent of roses. The odor drifted up toward his nose, just strong enough for him to smell if he thought about it. "The 'Dark Cat', huh? That's that club you like so much, isn't it?"
Schuldig nodded lazily, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, it is. Think you can catch him? He seems pretty uninterested in crap, doesn't he?"
Nagi turned, letting the trenchcoat fall open once more as his hand clung to the doll. As bait went, he felt he was pretty passable. The boots he'd bought would almost reach his knees, their matte-sheen the same as the leather of his skintight shorts. One hand rose, shoving aside the coat to eye the way his top laced up the side. There was easily a nice inch of skin on either side of the leather-and-fur top, the long armbands matching the style from armpit to wrist. Along with the inch of skin at the sides, a large oval was carved out of the chest before the top extended up into a pseudo-collar. He'd put a necklace beneath it, the golden cross laying perfectly in the center of the oval.
"Got a tail under that coat?" Schuldig rumbled from the bed, and Nagi peered back at him once more, smirking. Without a word, he flipped the coat back far enough that the tail showed clearly, currently wound around one leg to keep it out of the way. His telekinetics shifted it, and the tail came to life, moving as a cat's might. Schuldig's answer was a long, low whistle. **He'll like that. You might just catch him after all.** He paused, eyeing Nagi for several minutes before shoving himself off of the bed and stalking from the room.
Nagi started to follow, floating his keys to himself and shutting the lights off before it occurred to him that during the entire exchange, Schuldig had never once called him 'little boy.'
The smoke coiled around him heavily, almost a living thing, full of imagined weight and substance. He hated smoke. The smell was disgusting, reminding him faintly of the blond Weiss kitten, the tall one. Balinese. He'd caught Balinese eyeing Abyssinian a lot lately while he staked out the flower shop they worked in, and every time the green orbs lingered on Abyssinian's scarlet hair, Nagi snarled inwardly. He strode forward, pushing through the smoke almost viciously, and the clubbers near him fell back a step. He walked with deliberate grace, his coat in the coat room and his Abyssinian doll tucked safely in the motorbike he'd used to get there, hidden from view and out of harm's way. It would take a master thief far too long to pick the lock on his saddlebags.
He prowled through the room, eyes searching out every tall, lean form, looking for the wayward swordsman. The tail twitched behind him, lashing back and forth as he looked around. He heard whispers, hear and there, as people commented on the moving appendage, wondering how he managed it. Most assumed some sort of mechanical device. One suggested he'd had it specially grafted onto him. To that person, he offered a slow, icy grin, the expression somehow frighteningly predatory.
He adjusted his ears with a brief brush of his thoughts, having made almost a full circuit around the club before he caught sight of his prey. His head came up, dark eyes taking in Abyssinian's garb eagerly. He wondered what the redhead would do if he moved forward, slipping past the press of bodies to reach out and run a hand down the silk of his midnight-blue, sleeveless turtleneck. He liked Abyssinian without sleeves, come to think of it. The swordsman's muscles were hidden far too well by the trenchcoat he wore on their assassinations.
He moved forward in slow, sinuous motions designed to tease onlookers, though his eyes never left Abyssinian. It hadn't occurred him to ask Brad why they were there, and he pulled up short as Balinese swooped in from the side just before Nagi passed the final barrier of clubbers. His eyes narrowed, staring in utter hatred at the green-eyed blond, watching as Balinese handed Abyssinian a drink, the lowball of amber liquid glinting in the club's lights. It wouldn't take much to hide the blond's body if Nagi had half-a-chance to work.
He debated leaving. Surely there would be other times and places. But something held him back, some instinctive sixth sense he couldn't quite describe. The tail lashed fiercely, slapping his body as he pondered his options. Finally, he changed the angle of his path, stalking toward the bar instead of toward Abyssinian, and coincidentally brushing up against the two as he passed. He paused at the bar, summoning the tender and asking for a drink before looking casually back at Abyssinian. The aubergine eyes gazed back at him inscrutably.
Nagi smirked, turning to lean against the bar, his arms coming to rest on either side of him as he offered a nice view of himself to the redhead. He caught sight of Balinese peering at him for a moment, too, and conveniently shoved the person passing so that their drink spilled all over the blond. Within moments, he disappeared, presumably headed to the bathroom to contain the damage. And Abyssinian was left alone, prey once more.
Nagi's eyes slid half-shut, his head arching back as he exposed his throat, feeling the leather strain around it. He could almost feel the heat from Abyssinian's gaze slide over him, and with a sudden burst of inspiration, he let a trickle of sensation crawl over Abyssinian's skin, following the motion of the dark-purple eyes.
Thin red brows came together, eyes darkening further, although it was impossible to say whether the reaction was lust or anger. Nagi's smirk widened, and he upped it a notch, firming the trickle into an actual touch and tweaking one of the nipples hidden under Abyssinian's shirt. Abyssinian jumped in response, the nub standing out in sharp relief against the flat of the shirt.
He saw the taller man's lips part, the pink tip of his tongue flicking out to wet them slowly. It made him wonder whether he could get the man off here and now, made him curious as to how many insubstantial strokes it would take for Abyssinian to come in his jeans. And he wondered, too, whether Abyssinian would just stand there, accepting it as his due, or whether he would stride forward, taking charge by taking Nagi.
His cock ached in the leather shorts, too tightly confined by the inflexible material. He could feel the music pulsing through him, each rhythmic beat driving his arousal higher. His legs spread slightly, his powers dividing to stroke up into his body in time with the technomusic pumping through the speakers, all the while still teasing Abyssinian's body into submission. His hips ground back against the invisible invasion instinctively, and he wondered if that added to his allure, or lessened it. By the half-step forward Abyssinian took, he guessed it added.
His eyes locked with the redhead's, and he changed tactics suddenly, his powers grasping the engorged cock filling the man's jeans and tugging on it. His mind was coming up with all sorts of images of the two of them, everything from screwing on the trunk of Abyssinian's car to giving everyone in the club a serious show. He tossed back the strong drink suddenly, clear liquid going straight to his blood as he pushed himself off of the bar, taking the initiative by striding forward.
He didn't bother with speech as he reached Abyssinian. The slight hip movements, perfectly in time with his teasing, told him everything he needed to know. Mine. He slid to his knees, Abyssinian's fly opening with a flick of his mind. His cock spilled out, glistening with precum and dark with blood. Eyes still locked on his prey's, he leaned forward, taking the tip of the cock in his mouth and tasting. Hot, and salty, and oh, so perfect.
He felt more than heard the soft groan, and smiled around the hot flesh. Long, tapered fingers came up, burying themselves in his hair, and he felt a brief flash of weak resistance. A swirl of his tongue and low hum of pleasure stopped that before it started. He suckled slowly, lips stretching wide, his throat relaxing as he forced the cock all the way into his mouth before pulling back. Long, slow strokes, teeth and lips and tongue all used with every bit of skill he'd ever learned.
Either Abyssinian was repressed, or he hadn't gotten laid in forever. Either way, his climax didn't take long. Nagi drank it down eagerly, his own cock pulsing in needy reply. He ignored it, wanting to settle the net firmly around Abyssinian. It wouldn't take much more for the redhead to be his utterly.
As the shudders slowed, Nagi cleaned the softening member with a few swipes of his tongue and leaned back, putting Abyssinian to rights before standing. He looked up, catching the dark eyes staring back at him, and offered a slow, predatory smile in return.
And then he turned and walked out of the club, his body still throbbing in need.
**How'd it go?** Schuldig asked, as Nagi let himself back into the apartment. He sounded a touch too casual, as though the answer would most likely bore him. Nagi had never yet heard that tone used by the German unless the man was truly interested in the answer - sometimes a little too interested. **Did you have fun?**
The telepath was nowhere to be seen, which meant that he was holed up in his own room. Odd. Normally he came out to greet the younger assassin whenever Nagi returned from a night out. Nagi shrugged, dismissing the curiosity in favor of tugging his doll from the pocket of his coat. He gazed at it for several minutes, then floated it in the air as he disposed of his boots.
**You be the judge,** he replied finally, sending along a few memories of Abyssinian in his mouth, hot pulsing heat flooding him with pleasure. He expected one of those mental laughs that Nagi detested with every fiber of his being. He was almost disappointed when no laughter came. Silence stretched between them as Nagi grabbed the doll and headed for his room. Only as the door began to swing shut behind him did Nagi finally hear an answer from Schuldig, strangely subdued.