Pretty When You Cry

Disclaimer- characters and whatnot do not belong to me. i make no profit from this. i am merely borrowing them for a wee bit.



Some times things happen too easily for casual sinners like myself. Devil’s own luck, they say. Well damn, if this is the devils luck the bastard has all the fun. Before you look at me like that, let me set the scene a bit. If you think I am overreacting then, well, we can talk.

First off, let me explain something. I am a right bastard, and an unrepentant one at that. I took that old creed, if it feels good do it, and raised it to a whole new level of indulgence. They say a mind is a terrible thing to waste, right? Seeing as they call me Mastermind, I am more than happy to agree with that sentiment. Well, I am sure they call me many far less polite things when my back is turned, but hell, what do I care? If I really wanted I could convince them that they want nothing more than to kneel at my feet and give me a good suck.

See what I mean about a mind being a terrible thing to waste? There is such potential…so many uses for a mind given my own particular talents. I poke about in the wiring up there, to put it in layman’s terms; do some rewiring to get you to think and do what I want.

Fantastic, eh?

And I like doing it. That’s where my being a prick comes in. I really get off on messing around with other people’s brains.

Hand me a brain that is already scrambled, and hell, how could I resist a bit of fun? Add in the opportunity to take sleeping with the enemy literally and it’s like a kid with his first erection- all sorts of excited and enthusiastic to try it out in every way he can.
So, when the emotionally battered remains of Weiss’ suave little playboy stumbled into the seedy little bar I had been skulking about in…well, I really couldn’t resist. The temptation and all that. It was just too much.

One little mental poke brought a smile to my face. Poor little kitten. His lover had just kicked him out. Well, I couldn’t leave suffering uncomforted, right? It would be inhumane. Not to mention no fun at all.

A little prying revealed the unhappy man’s favorite drink. Helpful information really, when one intended on getting their prey absolutely shit-faced. Technically, getting Kudoh drunk was a backup plan, as it really is more satisfying to watch them realize they had nothing to blame their actions on. Sometimes I swear humans invented alcohol merely to have something to blame their idiocy on the morning after.

I digress, don’t I?

Back to depressed, delectable, Yohji Kudoh.

Normally it wouldn’t be hard at all for me to settle down next to someone as depressed as he and appear to be a veritable font of sympathy and concern. It’s a good way to get a quick lay. Like I said though, this was the enemy I was dealing with. It was going to take a bit more work to get him to…warm up to me. And while I like a bit of rough foreplay, I didn’t really fancy being throttled in public by some of the mans damn wire, so I settled a few seats over, alcoholic bribe in hand, and smiled my least oily smile.

“Rough night?”

Yohji must have been taking death glare lessons from his lover. What I really wanted to do was chuckle. It looked so out of place, that disgusted and angry look on such a beautiful face. I even went so far as to open my mouth to say so, before catching a hint of his intent to leave. That wouldn’t do. Not at all.

So I reigned in my inner asshole, and raised my hands in what I hoped was a placating manner. “Here, you look like you need a drink. Not poison, I promise.”

Ah, the joys of universal constants. A depressed lush will never turn down a free drink, no matter how dubious its source. Sure, Yohji made a great show of being unwilling to accept, but he did kick it back in the end. Never thought he was a whiskey person. No, seriously, he always stuck me as more of an amaretto sour sort of guy. See, another example as to how useful I am to have around.

I managed to hold some façade of companionable silence as Yohji stared at the fantastically dirty bar. Of course I was eavesdropping on the man’s thoughts; its not as if I am known for being polite or patient. That and he was thinking back on some pretty wild sex he had had with his lover. It kept me from getting bored while he tried to reconcile the fact that his enemy was sitting next to him in a bar and there was no violence. Hell, I was on my best behavior, and I was glad to know he noticed.

Finally he decided to speak. Lucky me, I was privy to what he was going to say and thusly had a wonderful opportunity to test my acting skills. Hey, it’s hard to act appropriately outraged on behalf of someone you didn’t give a flying fuck about. I really wanted to get this buddy-buddy shit over with and get on to the sympathy fuck. Prying on Yohji’s inner thoughts was not helping any; the man was apparently kinkier than a cheap whore on a weekend! I have a good imagination. It wasn’t that hard to just superimpose myself into some of the memories of fucking Aya Yohji was busy angst over.

Aya. Who would have guessed the man would enjoy tying his partner up. Never mind. It makes sense really. The man is so fucked up crazy when it comes to control issues he makes Farfie look like a guidance counselor.

“…ya know.”

He had been talking, and I had been fantasizing. Kinda like getting caught with your mental pants down, eh? Well, pants were already down, now to prove I had earned those balls. It was a dark bar. And no one was…inclined to look our way. Hell, I even convinced the bartender to sod off and go take a piss. So I leaned close, a sly expression on my face. “Yeah, I know. Anything I can do to…take your mind off things?”

Just the smallest of suggestions, a tempting insinuation of the hard on I currently had informing me my pants were far too tight…It was fantastic I tell you. I watched him decide he didn’t give a fuck whether or not Aya would be angry. Ok, I might have supported the little seed of rebellion I found in there. What did you expect? I couldn’t very well have him decide to run home crying to his assassin buddies that mean old Schu had tried to seduce him in a sketchy bar downtown.

And, point for Schuldich. I will spare you the details, as I am sure you don’t want to hear how creative one has to be when it comes to screwing in the back alley of a squalid part of town. But I will say Yohji, when encouraged, gives head like a pro and screams like a bitch while he is being fucked. Not that I had anything to do with that. The man is apparently just very vocal. I wonder how his housemates enjoy that? I know I did.

But you know what the best part was? Watching the sated glaze fade from green eyes and the realization of whose cock it was that had left that aftertaste in his mouth, had made him scream in pure atavistic pleasure, settled in. it wasn’t quite horror, wasn’t quite revulsion, but it was a damn fine mix of the two that twisted his beautiful face, widened those gorgeous eyes.

Watched his mind scramble to find a way to explain this one to Aya.
Devil’s own luck I say. Crawford can have his precognition. I consider that cheating, really. I zipped my pants to the sound of Yohji retching, thinking that the whiskey must really burn on the way back up. I was polite enough to leave some cash on the ground next to the miserable man. It was the least I could do. I know I had a blast.

Hey, Yohji could always buy Aya something nice on the way home. Aya never need know what had happened, seeing as he can’t read minds. It could be our little secret, Yohji and I.
I know I intend on dreaming of those horrified, teary eyes when I go to bed tonight. Weiss’ pet whore is damn sexy when he is crying.

Don’t look at me like that. Bastard, remember? Hell, I didn’t mean to upset you. How about I buy you a drink?