"The offer still stands."
Schuldich watched bemusedly as Ken slowly lifted his head, swollen eyes slitted open a bit, empty brown eyes looking at him. He was sitting in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest, arms tied behind his back. Blood stained his clothes and was dried over bruises on his skin. Chapped, split lips parted and a dry, wounded voice answered him, carrying a semblance of the defience from yesterday. But it was weakened, raw, and his voice shook on breath rattled from pain.
"Iie."
Schuldich shook his head and walked over to Ken. Stopping before him he watched as the younger youth flinched away and pessed hard into the corner, afraid to be so close to him. The swollen gaze dropped and a faint, nearly soundless whimper escaped him. The German crossed his arms.
"Do you really think he'll want you now? Do you think *anyone* will?" Schuldich mocked as he reached out and caressed Ken's mind, watching as he spasmed on the floor at the touch. "No, you don't. And here I thought you'd be sronger than that."
Ken said nothing and merely curled in on himself. Schuldich sighed and knelt down before him, reaching out for his face. Ken lashed out fearfully, legs kicking, body tensing. Schuldich ignored the blows and merely gripped Ken's chin, forcing his head up. When their eyes met, Ken's struggles ceased. Schuldich studied the bruised and cut face, the scarred eyes, silently. Absently Schuldich ran his thumb over Ken's bottom lip, watching as a sick, wary look entered Ken's eyes.
"W-what do you want?" Ken whispered.
"I don't know yet," Schuldich replied calmly.
Fear entered Ken's gaze, his labored breathing coming faster. "Me?"
"I already had you. You weren't much."
Ken flinched at the bored words and tried to jerk away but Schuldich's fingers dug into his bruised skin, sending needles of pain searing to the back of his neck. Schuldich smirked and leaned in closer. He settled one hand over Ken's crotch and laughed softly when he jerked at the touch, a soft cry of protest escaping his lips.
"That's right, Ken. Nagi had more experience at the age of twelve than you do now. I think it's pathetic. However, it was interesting hearing you scream. How many times did you see Aya's face? How many times did you close your eyes?" Schuldich tilted his head and brushed his lips over Ken's lips slightly, speaking against the rough flesh that had once been smooth. "It doesn't matter though. He'll never want to touch you when he finds out that I had you first. No one will."
Ken whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, as if blocking out Schuldich's face could save him from seeing, from being where he was at the moment. "Go away," he whispered pleadingly. "Just--go away."
"I'm not a dream, Ken. I'm here, I'm real. Your own personal nightmare. You know you deserve this, don't you? How many peop;le have you killed? How many people died by your hands? Your sins are years thick and won't ever go away. Just think of this as your punishment."
Schuldich kneaded his hand against Ken's body and felt Ken shudder. "Stop!" Ken whispered, his voice growing marginally louder. "Stop!"
"You deserve this, Ken," Schuldich hissed, green eyes flashing with contempt. "For what you've done, you deserve whatever I do to you, whatever I say to you. No one's going to ever want you when we let you go. I know you'll lie to your friends. I know you'll say nothing's wrong when everything is. Deep inside, where it matters, I've got a hold on you and I always will."
"No . . . please stop . . ."
But his protest, as weak as it was, fell on deaf ears. Schuldich unbuttoned his jeans and slid his pants down. Backed up in the corner with Schuldich's weight holding him down, Ken could do nothing but close his eyes but even that failed. What sparked in his mind, just like last time, was an image of Aya. He opened his eyes as wide as they would go, staring straight ahead as Schuldich's breath gusted over the most intimate part of his body. But though his mouth was full, it didn't stop him from speaking.
/The two extremes of everything. Love and hate. But you're too corrupted to know love and I already showed you hate,/ Schuldich told him telepathically as his teeth, tongue, and lips worked to produce a reaction from Ken's body. /So here's a mockery of all you hold dear./
Ken tried to block it out, to ignore it, but Schuldich's touch was gentle, sarcastic in his caress, meaning, this time, to give pleasure instead of pain. And Ken responded, hating himself so thoroughtly as he came that Schuldich could hear him without reading him. Lifting his head Schuldich licked his lips and pressed a sticky kiss to Ken's, smiling as he did so.
/You enjoyed it. Admit it./
But Ken said nothing; eyes blank and staring straight ahead. He hadn't once closed them and they were wet with tears. Schuldich rocked back and readjusted his pants. Jerking him to his feet he led Ken out of Farfarello's room on shaky legs. He led him though the silent apartment complex and down the elevator to the garage. Farfarello was there by his car, waiting silently. Schuldich shoved Ken into the backseat before kissing Farfarello bruisingly hard.
The Irishman wiped his lips dry when they parted. "You taste like sex."
"What else did you think I'd taste like?"
Farfarello said nothing.
"Bored?"
"Whatever."
"Then get in."
They got into the car and Schuldich started the engine, peeling out into the street. In silence they drove, the night lit by the city, reflecting off of the angry black clouds that rolled ominously above them. Halfway to whatever destination Schuldich had in mind raindrops began to fall, hitting the windshield randomly for a few minutes before the clouds were ripped apart and a river fell on them. Schuldich shoved a cd into the player to get rid of the noise of the pounding rain, fiddling with the controls until he was satisfied and a song came blasting out, the chorus making him smile.
It was the same song he had voiced to Brad one time, a song that described him so perfectly, yet know one knew the truth of the lyrics. Only one person had and when he had played it that first time years ago, Liebe's memory had cried. He punched the repeat button and it played in a loop through the rest of the ride until he braked to a halt and turned off the engines. It was still raining. Without a word the two Schwarz members got out. Schuldich opened the back door and dragged Ken out, dumping him on the muddy ground. They were in the middle of an abandoned lot lit by nothing but the lightning in the clouds above them.
Schuldich kicked Ken away from the car, swiping soaked red hair out of his eyes. Ken curled up on his side, grass and mud staining his clothes and skin, getting into open wounds. Farfarello stepped up and bent over him, jerking his knife between the rope that bound his hands together. He wasn't going for accuracy, only pain. The ropes fell away but not before the blade had caught on theabrased skin of Ken's left wrist and sliced a cut up his arm a few inches. Blood bubbled up, oozing out in a thick stream. Ken didn't move to stop it.
Schuldich planted a hand on his hip and stared down at the beaten figure of their adversary. With a disgusted snort he turned away, his cold voice echoing through the storm. "Just remember, Hidaka Ken. No matter what happens after this, you'll always remember that I had you first. And that will eat you alive till the day you die."
They got into the car, leaving Ken behind them in the rain. Farfarello bit down on the tip of knife, licking off Ken's blood. "You liked doing him, didn't you?" the Irishman asked.
Schuldich sped up, one hand on the wheel, the other running through his long hair to get out the wind lashed tangles. "So?"
"You're cruel."
"No more than you."
"I like that."
"I know. Now shut up. And get your feet off the dashboard. Bad enough I've got rainwater staining my leather seats. I *don't* need mud getting all over everything."
"Bitch bitch bitch."
"And I do it so well."
Farfarello slitted his eye shut partially, tilting his head back. "We should have killed him."
"You want immortality or not? If we take apart the Fujiyama brat one piece at a time, there will be nothing left to hold him up when we finally play our final hand."
"You're thinking like Brad."
Schuldich made a face. "Don't insult me."
The rest of the drive home was made in silence.