Schuldig stared at the wide screen television. The 'one hundred breast nude games' was on; featuring topless beauties taking part in events that were unlikely to ever appear in the Olympics, much to the loss of the official Games. Schuldig sighed, flicking over. Once he might have snorted at the absurdity, or smirked at the ludicrously outrageous events, but an odd apathy had stolen over him in recent months. Not even bare women wrestling in mud could capture his attention these days.
Oh, he had it all. His apartment was beautiful and close enough to the sea that Schuldig woke to a gorgeous view from his king sized bed each morning. The furniture was plush and the fixtures elegant. An entertainment system took up an entire wall of a bachelor pad that was huge by Japanese standards. A bit of creative banking had left the money rolling in and Brad occasionally called to give him tips about the stock market. Beautiful women flocked to him.
Schuldig hit mute on one remote and play on another. Blues filled the room to match his mood. Surreptitiously checking he was alone, despite the ridiculousness of the notion he might be otherwise, he stood up and began to dance. Slowly at first, swaying gently at the hips, then, as he grew more immersed in the music, with vivacity and abandon rarely seen in the German any more. He sang along with the husky African American girl, launching into an air guitar solo when appropriate.
Schuldig caught sight of a reflection in the mirror and spun around, but no one was there. He sighed. He'd been jumping at shadows for months now, seeing Yohji in every window and puddle. Regret was a new sensation for him, and everything he did was coloured with it. He'd hear something or see someone and run up, almost embarrassing himself before his mind caught up with the person's and he realised it wasn't Yohji.
All he wanted was to say 'I love you too'.
There was a knock at the door. Schuldig frowned and turned down the music. Brad wasn't due to drop by for another week and Nagi had called him only that morning. That was the sum total of everyone he knew currently living in Tokyo. There was another knock, more impatient. Schuldig sauntered cautiously over to the door, drawing his revolver and standing to one side of it.
'I hope he's in. I hope he's not. Oh god, what am I doing? What if he's not here? What if this is the wrong place? What if he is in? What am I going to say?'
Schuldig lowered the gun. It couldn't really be…
'I'm going. I can't stand this!'
"Wait!" Schuldig flung the door open. Half way down the corridor a man stopped. A man with dyed blond hair, a cropped t-shirt, low-riding black jeans, sunglasses and a unique watch. Yohji turned around.
"You cut your hair," was the first thing Schuldig could think of to say.
"Yeah," Yohji ran a self-conscious hand through the light blond spikes.
"You… want to come in?" Yohji nodded.
It was awkward as hell. The music kept playing, slow and sensuous and mournful. Yohji followed Schuldig back into the apartment. Schuldig waved around vaguely. "Um, tour. Bedroom, main room, bathroom. All done! Want a drink?"
"Sure." Yohji smiled. Schuldig fetched them both a beer from a fridge tucked in a little kitchenette near the door. "So, I converted you?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, the music. I guess so. Suits my moods recently." Schuldig collapsed into a leather armchair. Yohji perched on the arm of another and the two men stared at each other. The music continued to pour from speakers concealed strategically about the room. It didn't make the silence any less awkward.
Schuldig closed his eyes and leant back. In all of his regret he hadn't thought to consider what would happen if he was offered a chance to make things right. He didn't now what to say, how to say it, and, well, where to begin. Here was Yohji, apparently equally unprepared. What to say?
How are you? What've you been up to? Where do you live these days? Seeing anyone? I love you too…
"I love you too," Schuldig muttered, unaware he was speaking aloud.
"Oh thank God!" Yohji blurted out. Schuldig snapped out of his reverie.
"Scheisse! I didn't mean to say th- really 'thank God'?" Schuldig sat forwards, apprehensive and hopeful. "I… do you still… love me?" he asked quietly.
"Hell yes," Yohji grinned lazily, suddenly at ease. "Schuldig, I'm no more 'cured' than I was six months ago, but I've been drowning in regret since I walked out of that room. I'll never be able to live with the guilt of killing you, but I can't live with the pain of not being with you, of not knowing how long it might have lasted. Even if I kill you tonight, at least we'll have tonight. That is, if you want to?" he gazed at Schuldig imploringly.
"Hell yes," Schuldig echoed teasingly. "We'll work around it, Yotan, somehow. Even if it means total abstinence, I want to be around you."
Yohji looked aghast. "I don't, not if I have to be celibate! It was hell when it was just physical. Throw in all this love stuff and I'll be back in that asylum in a matter of minutes. We're physical people, Schuldig. We need that level to our relationship. I'll just have to learn to live with handcuffs, or something. Schuldig, understand me: I didn't come here for a friendship. I want to be your lover. If we're both dead by the morning, so be it. I can't just be friends again. I want to touch you, to be with you."
Schuldig chuckled. "If we're so dependent on touching, what are you doing all the way over there?"
Yohji grinned suddenly and sashayed over to curl around Schuldig. He rubbed his cheek against Schuldig's, nuzzling him until their lips met, mouths already open. The kiss was long and passionate yet restrained. They were testing the as yet unestablished boundaries. Schuldig smiled against Yohji's mouth. Establishing those boundaries was going to be fun.
They pulled apart for air. Yohji worked on unbuttoning Schuldig's shirt while Schuldig pulled Yohji's cropped top over his head. "Yohji?" Schuldig purred, "do you trust me?"
Yohji pulled back. For all their talk of love, there was still an element of mistrust between the two men. Both hurt, both desperately lonely, both scared… trust was a great deal to ask. It meant dependence. It meant vulnerability. It meant pain, as far as experience told them. But without trust, it couldn't be love. Just caring, just a weak friendship and overwhelming lust, just a screwed-up reliance on each other.
They'd had this conversation before. Yohji had said 'yes', but he hadn't meant it. Or rather, he had, but he didn't trust himself. Now he was being asked to trust Schuldig in his trust of Yohji. It was a difficult request, when Yohji couldn't trust himself.
"Yes," he said uncertainly, eyes screaming 'no'.
Schuldig reached into Yohji's mind. He couldn't shut off the trigger without risking damage to Yohji but he could suppress it like he did memories. It would require concentration and only worked as a short-term solution, but it was better than wearing a metal collar so Yohji couldn't hurt him. Schuldig's lips quirked. Okay, maybe he'd do that anyway.
Yohji collapsed on to him, mouth nibbling at his collarbone and nipping the soft skin at the base of Schuldig's neck. Schuldig moaned and ran his fingers along Yohji's bare back, tracing his spine first up, then down, into his trousers. Yohji squirmed as Schuldig brushed his tailbone and cupped his buttocks. Both men had put on much needed weight and Yohji was toned and muscular. Yohji turned his attention to Schuldig's nipples while Schuldig worked on undoing both men's jeans. Hooking his arms under Yohji Schuldig was pleased to find it was almost a struggle to carry him to the bedroom, Yohji's legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Schuldig didn't particularly like skinny men.
They collapsed together on the bed, Yohji kicking off his trousers. Schuldig scrabbled in a draw to produce lube and condoms. Yohji studied the foil packages with amusement.
"We haven't bothered with those before," he pointed out languidly, sprawling naked across Schuldig's bed like a model. "I'm clean if you are. The asylum insisted on a check-up and you're the only person I've been with since then," he admitted candidly.
Schuldig considered for a second and chucked the condoms back into the draw. "I'm clean as a whistle," he smirked. "Just as well, huh?"
Yohji sat up, all 'come-hither' smile and seductive eyes. "My turn on top," he growled. Schuldig shimmied out of his jeans eagerly and moved towards Yohji, wrapping his arms around the blond and tousling his short hair. He smelt good, clean and smoky, and Schuldig could feel his erection brush Yohji's.
Yohji moaned and pushed Schuldig into the mattress, straddling him so he was pinned down. He licked a finger and ran it down the centre of Schuldig's chest, leaving a cold trail. Schuldig grabbed the offending digit and stuck it in his own mouth, sucking it hard. Yohji responded by sliding backwards and sucking Schuldig equally hard, but somewhere entirely different.
Gasping and panting Schuldig stared up at Yohji. "I want you in me," he begged, unashamed of being reduced to pleading. He'd never thought he'd be so desperate for another man after years on the streets as a young boy. Yohji brought out the inner virgin, the naïve and trusting boy, in the cynical and jaded sadistic killer. Schuldig hooked his legs over Yohji's shoulders.
Schuldig came quickly and as his internal muscles tightened and constricted Yohji felt himself drawn to a climax as well. Schuldig stared at the ceiling, hips raised off the bed by Yohji's. Yohji withdrew slowly, eyes wide as he surveyed Schuldig's spent body, lean chest heaving and flat stomach rippling with the recent exertion. His attention switched from Schuldig's body to his own hands. They had started to twitch and he was visibly restraining himself. Schuldig was too wrapped up in the afterglow to notice as Yohji began to bend over him, leaning with a hand on either side of Schuldig's head.
"Hey lover," Schuldig murmured silkily. Yohji froze. He'd been moving his hands closer together until his wrists brushed Schuldig's neck on both sides. "Lie down," Schuldig patted the bed beside him. "I have to go clean off, but you stay right here." Schuldig went to move and found himself trapped by Yohji's stiff body.
"Sorry," Yohji muttered painfully. "I…"
Schuldig smiled calmingly. "Yohji, it's okay. I trust you, ja? Just lie down and close your eyes." Yohji swallowed. It took effort, but he managed to relax his arms enough to lower himself on top of Schuldig and then roll off. Schuldig chuckled. "See, now you need to be cleaned off as well." He clambered off of the oversized bed and wandered into an en suite bathroom.
Yohji stared at the ceiling. Both of them were alive. Score one for Yohji. Well, for Schuldig, because he'd repressed Yohji's urge to choke the life out of him. But at the end, that had just been him. Yohji had stood up to himself and won. A smile tugged on Yohji's lips as Schuldig reappeared with a damp cloth.
Schuldig curled against him, wiping Yohji's stomach and chest tenderly with the flannel. Yohji yawned widely; relaxed in a way he hadn't been since his days of living in the flower shop. He dug his heels into the mattress and arched his back, stretching like a cat. Schuldig smirked and tickled his stomach, making Yohji curled up around the offending hand, his back to Schuldig.
Schuldig smiled and kissed the back of Yohji's neck, spooning him like they had in the flat. He chuckled and shared this thought with Yohji, who told him sleepily to shut up and squeeze him. Schuldig obeyed happily.
It had been a long time since either man had been happy. Clean, wealthy and safe, they slept.
End.