Dragon Cycle

Dragon Cycle – Pt 20 – Time to Kill


Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz does not belong to me, Weiß do not belong to me, Schwarz do not belong to me, none of the characters in WK belong to me - but we do have fun together. I write for pleasure not profit.

Author's Notes: All thanks to Iron Dog for her continued betaing of this fic which has, it must be said, become much longer than I intended. Thanks, babe, you rock!

Thank you, thank you to everyone who reads my story and those who also review. Much appreciated.

evil: As they say, it takes two to tango – but exactly who Schu wants to tango with the most is still a mystery.

raya: Thanks ^_^ Farfarello is a patient soul – and he’ll have to be a just a little bit more patient.

annime: Schu is very glad Crawford saved him and is willing to pay the price for his rescue – even if the price isn’t quite what he expected ~_^

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Schuldig stretched like a cat, luxuriating in the fact his was the only body in the large, comfortable bed. Sometimes it was a pleasure to have a bed all to yourself. Other times another body to share with was even more pleasant…or pleasurable.

Either way it was only enjoyable if it was what you wanted. Schuldig’s bedmates were always there on his say-so and his terms…well, almost always. Mostly. And while he enjoyed having the bed all to himself, he hadn’t chosen to sleep alone. This time should’ve been one of those other times with another warm body next to his.

He rolled onto his back, placing his hands behind his head, and looked at the ceiling. The fact was there’d been no choice last night. Crawford had seen to that. The crafty prick had decided to punish him for his indiscretions by denying him a bedmate. The angry vibes Crawford still threw off even late into the night were strong enough that not even Schuldig wanted to get too close to him. The mental buzzing Crawford was projecting was like angry bees inside his head, stinging and sharp. The bastard had negated the telepath's only other option by drugging Farfarello on the pretext they were too close to a mission to risk him slipping into a psychotic episode and wandering off.

Schuldig snorted at the obvious lie. Mission – yeah, right. Payback was more like it. Farfarello was becoming agitated; you didn’t need to be a psychiatrist to see that. But it was typical Farfarello edginess before a mission and it sure as hell wasn’t enough to send Crawford running for the heavy-duty drugs. It never had before. No, Crawford knew that Schuldig and Farfarello had gotten friendly between the sheets and he didn’t like it one bit.

Yeah, well if you think I’m going to be the least bit accommodating when you decide you want to fuck, you’d better think again, Crawford-san, Schuldig thought with a mean little smile at the ceiling.

He lay still and quiet for several minutes, mentally reaching out through the house and its close surrounds, listening for anything of interest. Farfarello was still in his drug induced sleep, but Nagi was awake and busy on his laptop, his thoughts eager as he tracked down his latest electronics obsession.

Schuldig left him to it and sought out their fearless leader. The timbre of the white noise that was Crawford’s mind told him the American was awake and at work. Knowing he’d get nothing more from Crawford, he moved on, listening in on some of the less familiar minds of the rest of the people in the compound. There was nothing of interest happening. The other bodyguards were already up and having breakfast. Schuldig wondered what duties they had to make them all so fucking chipper this early in the day but wasn’t really interested enough to pry further to find out. He gave Takatori’s mind a cautious prod and was relieved to find him sound asleep. He’d been leery of intruding when the old man was in the process of making the most of his morning glory.

Did guys that old even get morning wood, Schuldig wondered. Damned if he knew. He’d heard that some old people needed to go to the bathroom more than once during the night, so maybe Takatori had more than one erection through the night. Could be worth getting old just for that, Schuldig mused.

The morning chill began to make itself felt. He withdrew his hands from under his head, and huddled down under the covers again. As he made himself comfortable, he cast his mind beyond the boundaries of the house. An idea came to him and he gave a low, mean sounding laugh.

Becoming mentally still, he went in search of Clara. He’d been in her mind previously, so it was child’s play to track her down amongst the many in the small town where she and the rest of Stärke were skulking. Finding her was not a problem at all. She wasn’t trying to hide or minimize her presence or that of her team. Very mentally sloppy, Schuldig thought considering all that had already happened.

Clara was asleep, so Schuldig took his time. He snooped through her latent thoughts and poked around in her subconscious mind, not really finding anything of interest except a deep-seated desire to please and impress Stein. She respected her leader greatly and she wanted to do her very best for him and make him acknowledge her as a worthwhile Talent. To that end she would do, and had done, whatever he’d asked of her, including venturing into the mind of the Schwarz telepath when she knew she wasn’t welcome. Stupid, pathetic little girl.

Schuldig dismissed her as not worth his time and zeroed in on the next, obvious, target. Stein himself. He’d barely entered the sleeping man’s mind when a sense of deep unease washed over him. Trusting his own instincts, Schuldig withdrew quickly and carefully. He didn’t want the prick knowing he’d been there and reporting him back to Rosenkreuz again. Crawford could only save his ass so many times.

Something definitely wasn’t right in Stein’s head. He couldn’t quite put a finger on the sensation he’d experienced when he’d entered the Austrian’s mind, except that it evoked a gut reaction from him to get out and get out now. The need to get out of Stein’s mind was so strong it was almost a compulsion.

Schuldig had been in Stein’s head before but he’d never felt the psychic hairs of his mind stand up like they just did. To discover the cause necessitated him venturing back into the Austrian’s mind but the way his internal alarms sounded off the first time, Schuldig decided it was in his best interests not to risk another trip. He was curious but not that curious.

Anyway, Schuldig thought, I don’t need to get into his head to know the main things on Stein’s mind at the moment are how to get Crawford to succumb to his lust, and how to get me out of the way.

“Failed and failed, you fucking Austrian loser,” Schuldig muttered with a triumphant smirk.

Thinking about Stein had soured his initial pleasant mood. He punched his pillow and resettled, forcing thoughts of Stein away and letting his mind rest. Before too long, he’d given himself up to sleep once more.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Crawford hunkered down amongst the undergrowth and waited. Even though it was dark, he refused to allow himself to glance to his right where Schuldig crouched while he carried out a mental scan of the area. A little foresight and some careful maneuvering had allowed Crawford to place Nagi between himself and the telepath. When you’d enjoyed an erotic dream about someone you weren’t currently on good terms with, it was difficult to be next to that person in the flesh and not remember in vivid detail exactly what you’d done in dreams.

Crawford had done his best to avoid the German during the day, and had largely succeeded. When their paths happened to cross, Crawford found it increasingly difficult not to call the telepath into his makeshift study on some pretext or another and make the dream reality.

And what a dream…Schuldig, hot and wanting, writhing in his lap, his arms around Crawford’s neck, their mouths pressed together as their tongues fought each other for ingress and dominance. Crawford remembered the gossamer brush of Schuldig’s long, silky hair on his forearms as he held the telepath close and the feel of toned muscles moving beneath soft, warm skin as he ran his hands eagerly over the German’s lithe body. The telepath’s wanting, needy cries had been swallowed hungrily as they kissed as if they couldn’t get enough of the taste of each other.

If he’d dreamed more than that, it was lost to him now. But he remembered those fleeting images and remembered the desire they’d engendered as he’d dreamed; the desire for the physical and emotional closeness to never end. It wasn’t a feeling he’d ever admit to having experienced and it was a memory he’d rather live without. It was bad enough that the dream had sparked inconvenient desire in him – inconvenient because he was still angry with the telepath. He was not going to allow his body to dictate to him and make him succumb to the lure of a dream. His mind was stronger than that… barely.

“Seven men inside the building,” Schuldig said, keeping his voice low, “five patrolling outside.”

Crawford looked to Nagi, who was working on the alarm system. “How long?” he asked.

“Soon,” Nagi replied without looking up from the small laptop he was using to hack the security system.

It was a damned nuisance having to speak to communicate. Using the mental links Schuldig had built between them was second nature when they were on a mission. Being without them felt awkward and wrong.

“Done,” Nagi advised as he closed the laptop and stowed it in his backpack, ready to head back to the car.

“Let’s go,” Crawford said, straightening up.

They’d carried out a reconnaissance earlier in the day. They knew the lay of the land and when they’d gone back to the house, they’d done a final run through of the plan of attack. Now all they needed to do was carry out that plan. Since Crawford hadn’t Seen any trouble, he knew this wasn’t going to be a difficult mission.

Reaching the edge of the cleared perimeter around the factory, the three men looked around. Seeing no patrols in the vicinity, they broke cover and headed for the darker shadows of the large shed where they hunkered down behind some packing boxes.

As they waited, Crawford could sense Farfarello’s increasing excitement and eagerness. The Irishman would happily take care of everyone inside the factory if allowed. But tonight he’d be denied at least some of his fun. While most people wouldn’t recognize the sound of gunfire for what it was, the screams of men dying prolonged deaths were harder to mistake for something else. Such sounds would be loud and they’d carry some distance in the still, quiet night increasing the chances of drawing unwanted attention from a curious passerby. Crawford didn’t want complications, so Farfarello would have to curtail his enthusiasm for the job tonight.

Besides, it was late and Crawford wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible so he could get back to the house and to bed. He also wanted – probably more than anything else – to get out of Schuldig’s company.

Two, almost simultaneous, cracks of gunfire were his signal to move. Gun in hand; Crawford headed for the entry door at the front of the warehouse, Farfarello hot on his heels. They arrived just as someone cautiously opened the door a fraction to investigate the noise of gunfire outside.

Another brief round of gunfire told Crawford there was now only one guard on patrol – and any second now, Schuldig would have him convinced that suicide was a dandy idea.

The man at the door tried to shut it, but Farfarello was faster, kicking the door open again and sending the man staggering backwards, off balance. Farfarello was on him like a mad dog. Crawford stepped into the warehouse and dodged to the left immediately, avoiding a bullet aimed his way. Calmly raising his own gun, Crawford sent a bullet into his would-be assailant’s shoulder, effectively disabling him. They didn’t want everybody dead before they could retrieve the information that was part of their mission parameters.

Within ten minutes it was all over. Schuldig, who entered the warehouse after finishing off the guards outside, took the information Takatori wanted from the heads of the men Crawford and Farfarello rounded up, and who were cowering on the concrete floor.

Schuldig concluded his information gathering by smirking evilly and shooting one of the men between the eyes. As he fell backwards to the floor, the others began to babble incoherently, none of them left sane after the sadistic telepath finished with their minds. Knowing they were going to die at the end of his mind purge, Schuldig hadn’t bothered to be careful or gentle. Crawford gave the most vocal one to Farfarello, while he and Schuldig took care of the others.

As he set his gun back in its shoulder holster, Crawford approved the way the mission had gone. They had the information Takatori wanted, the big man’s rivals were dead, and all had gone smoothly – and relatively quietly. The man Farfarello was systematically taking apart was missing a tongue and his vocal chords were savaged to the point of uselessness. No fear of him making any loud noises, Crawford thought as he moved out of range of any random blood spatter.

Halting beside a steel column, he looked back at the Irishman, who appeared to be having a whale of a time. Then his gaze traveled to Schuldig - seemingly of its own volition. The telepath was sitting on a box not far from the dead men and he looked close to exhausted. Given what he’d been asked to do, that wasn’t surprising. And, Crawford thought with a sense of pride, he’d done it. He’d controlled the minds of two men at the same time, manipulating them so they shot each other. He’d done it again with the other two guards and, finally, he’d convinced the remaining guard to shoot himself. On top of that, he’d wrestled the information Takatori wanted from the minds of the big man’s rivals. Schuldig had done extremely well considering he’d been in a backlash coma just a short time ago. Crawford approved.

Schuldig’s performance went some way towards making up for yesterday and for the fact that Crawford felt he’d been forced to practically grovel to Fleischer. To someone else it may have seemed like nothing more than setting out the facts and asking for leniency in what was a very difficult situation. To Crawford, it was nothing less than debasing himself in order to secure Schuldig’s continuing presence as a member of Schwarz, and the memory of that phone call still made him seethe.

The crack of bone drew his attention back to Farfarello, who was kneeling in a pool of blood, bent over his now permanently still and silent victim. He observed the way the blood had seeped into the cloth of the Irishman’s pants, staining them dark red to mid-thigh level. Not for the first time, Crawford considered the stupidity of wearing white in their profession and wondered what genius decided it was the perfect color for assassins. Maybe they’d only mentioned the idea as a joke and had been horrified when they’d been taken seriously.

Crawford let that thought go and moved enough that he could get a look at Farfarello’s handiwork. Not long now and the Irishman would be done, he judged. There was no point in trying to hurry him…

“Oracle?”

Nagi’s voice was small in his ear. Activating the mic on his lapel, Crawford spoke into it.

“We’re almost done here,” he reported. “Give us another ten minutes and we’ll be at the car.”

“Roger that – and out,” Nagi replied crisply.

Crawford gave an amused smile and turned for the warehouse door – and stopped. He closed his eyes as the brief vision played out for him. He Saw Schuldig begin to move away from the bodies, and Farfarello’s hand snake out. He snagged the German around the ankle and jerked hard, sending him to the floor. Barely had Schuldig hit the concrete when Farfarello was swarming over him, sharp teeth nipping, hands seeking out flesh, and uncontrollable madness burning in his eye. Madness not to rend flesh from bone but one just as base. One Crawford was struggling against himself.

The vision was over in seconds, but it caused Crawford to delay his exit. Berserker in a lust induced frenzy was the last thing Crawford needed to deal with this night. He waited patiently where he was, his attention moving between Farfarello and Schuldig. Before long, the German stood up and headed in his direction. Farfarello, still engrossed in the blood and gore of his victim, made no attempt to stop him.

“I’m tired. I’m going back to the car,” Schuldig said wearily as he passed Crawford.

Watching him leave, Crawford felt his temper flare again only this time he wasn’t angry with the German, he was angry with himself. Schuldig had done nothing more than walk past him and he’d stirred the American’s desire. The dream, Crawford reminded himself. It’s all because of that dream I had last night.

Maybe so, but why cut off your nose just to spite your face, some traitorous part of his mind enquired.

Because he made me grovel, Crawford answered silently. Because I’m in charge of my feelings and emotions and I won’t – simply will not – allow myself to lose out to base desire. If it wasn’t for that dream last night, I wouldn’t even be having such thoughts.

But no matter how much Crawford tried to talk himself out of wanting the German, his cock had ideas of its own and wasn’t ready to succumb to reason or logic. No matter, the American thought to himself. A hard, erect cock could be ignored if you were strong-willed enough – and there were few people as strong-willed as Brad Crawford.

He busied himself with the final task of the mission and, by the time Farfarello stood up from the mess that had been a man, Crawford was back in control of himself. He took a final look around then followed the now calm psychopath out into the cool night.

They walked back to the car in silence. When they arrived, Crawford reorganized the seating arrangements, ordering Farfarello up front with him and Nagi into the back seat with Schuldig, who looked to be asleep. While Nagi and Farfarello quietly followed his instructions, Crawford slid into the driver’s seat. He pulled his door shut and reached for the ignition key. As soon as the other two were settled, he turned the key and the engine purred to life. From his right came the muted sound of an explosion. Crawford put the car into drive, and steered it back towards the main road and home.

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/N: This was going to be longer, but I ended it here otherwise it would be another month before I got the chapter posted. Consequently, the smexxing that was supposed to be in this chapter will now be in the next one ^__^