Decisions

Kudou had passed out, the wuss. Schuldig peeled the sticky mass of Gummi Bears out of his pocket and growled disgust. Damn it, what the hell was going on? He’d gotten drunk, he’d gotten Kudou drunk, if that was what whoever–Bickley. It had to be Bickley, didn’t it? With Brad’s help, though, or on his own?

He’d tear that information from Bickley-bastard’s mind, when he found a way off this sandpile. Now he needed to find that way.

Getting drunk clearly wasn’t it. No one was coming to take advantage of their stupidity. Maybe Bickley was just trying to seduce him? Schu did love a good beach. And Ron Zacapa Centenario was a Guatamalan rum, widely considered the best in the world, and it wasn’t the only “best” in that cooler. Real Cuban cigars–

So was Bickley after Kudou too? Schu hadn’t thought Bickley was the adventurous type, but he hadn’t been in the man’s brain, either. Maybe he was like Brad–all buttoned-down on the outside, all hot and schexy and power-mad on the inside.

Che. Spitting Remy Martin Louis XIII–Schu had moved on to cognac, and whatever Bickley wanted, he wanted it bad–was a fucking waste, no matter how much you needed to laugh.

Scheisse. Even after the Gummi Bears, he was hungry. If Bickley really wanted to seduce him, there should have been a pretty girl serving him yum talay* and arak*. Or a–no, not a boy. That might get him–gag!–Bombay. Schu didn’t like pretty boys. Only certain men caught his eye.

Brad. Brad caught his eye and everything else. Kudou. Farf, in a sick, “what would he do to me” kind of way. It was the only long-running curiosity Schu had never satisfied, he was very fond of his skin. But Farf was built, even better than Brad, so he kept wondering.

Mmm, Kudou. Lying right there passed out, trying to convince himself he could be monogamous, wasn’t that the laugh of the century…

Time to change the kitty’s mind? It was that or sit being bored for hell knew how long. Schu pulled off his boots–he knew from long experience most any clothes could be gotten out of gracefully, but boots were not easy to handle in the midst of urgent passion–and insinuated himself into the blonde’s lounge chair.

Kudou sighed and pressed back against him. “Horny much?” Schu whispered, and set to work driving the man crazy. Get Kudou’s engine racing before he woke up, that was the plan. He could have just made Balinese agreeable, but Kudou was uncharacteristically determined. The amount of control needed would have made fucking him one step above doing it with a blow-up doll, and that was not Schu’s scene at all.

Mmm. Golden skin and long, lean limbs Schu had always wanted wrapped around him, this was going to be fun…Kudou tasted the way his mind felt, sweet and spicy and alcoholic, like the best cocktails. And getting sweeter, as the lust built and his body reacted.

“Aya,” the bastard murmured, shoving his ass against Schu. Don’t correct him, not yet, he’d wake soon enough–the blonde turned in his arms, eyes still closed. Schuldig kissed him, the taste was even stronger inside his mouth, a long leg wrapped around him and Kudou grabbed fistfuls of his hair–and jerked away.

“Shitfuckgoddamngetthefuckoffme!” The blonde threw himself off the chair and blinked up at Schuldig. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Fighting boredom. Get back here, I’m not done with you.” Control was one thing. Suggestion–Schu turned the lust up in the kitty’s brain. You’re on fire, Kudou, and only I can help…

The blonde shivered and closed his eyes. “Leave me alone,” he breathed.

“Maybe if you meant it.” ::I can make you see me,:: he reminded mentally. And sent image after image, everything he was going to do to the man. Fuck him till they broke the chair, then fuck him into the beach, suck him off until his mind exploded, and then start all over again–

::This is the song that never ends,:: Kudou began, his eyes still closed.
::It just goes on and on my friends
::Some people–::

::I don’t have to listen to talk,:: Schuldig pointed out, and adjusted the kitty’s lust-meter higher. Kudou shivered again, then leaped to his feet. But instead of jumping back in the chair, he ran down the beach and jumped in the ocean. It was cold enough to knock the lust out of him, Schu felt the shock even trying not to hear.

Scheisse. How was it the bastard could still surprise him?

::I can still talk to you,:: he taunted, since he wasn’t getting any other pleasure out of the man.

::Fuck you!::

::If you hadn’t run, you would have.::

::Even for you, that had to be an all-time low.::

::Dream on, Kudou.:: Schu sighed and picked up the cognac. Not as good as Kudou, but still, good stuff. ::I’ve done far worse than that.::

::Bastard.::

::You know it. Are you swimming back to Japan? Are you going the right way?::

::I don’t have a machete either, and I’m not staying with you.::

::Come back, I’ll behave.:: For a little while. ::Watching you drown is not worth having to drink alone after.::

::Drown…:: Kudou mused, not talking to Schu anymore. He turned the idea over in his mind, and the idiot liked it. Drowning didn’t hurt, he thought, and he’d put an end to it all, finally. Aya wouldn’t want him back anyway, and he didn’t want to live without Aya, couldn’t live, could never survive…

Oh hell no. Schuldig hated drinking alone.

*******

Alone, Aya admitted, was how he preferred to hunt. A simple kill-them-all mission was one thing, he didn’t mind teamwork then. But a hunt required thought. Concentration. Timing. No over-eager Ken blundering ahead, no overly-cheerful Omi telling him what to do, no Yohji distracting him from what he needed to be, to find and destroy the target.

That was why Aya was slipping out through the garage at five in the morning, when even Azumi wasn’t awake yet. He’d left a note on the table, addressed to all of them though only Aya-chan would really understand. Let her explain it, if she could. In the cold gray light of morning, Aya was no longer sure she was right, but it didn’t matter. He had his mission.

His quest.

And his target, he saw as soon as he stepped into the street.

The Oracle smiled at him, dawn light glinting off his glasses. Aya adjusted his grip on his cloth-wrapped sword. His coat was in his bag, he hadn’t expected action so soon, but he could–

“I believe,” Crawford said, “we have some things to discuss.”

Aya dropped his bag and stepped to guard. It was a good thing his sword was wrapped, he wouldn’t be tempted to kill his enemy before he could beat answers out of him.

“So predictable,” Crawford sighed. “Abyssinian, Schwarz does not have Balinese.”

But he knew Yohji was missing. Aya attacked, Crawford found it easier than usual to block his blade, he didn’t have to be careful of the edge. But–swing, step, block, swing, build the tempo, he had flattened the man once–

“You’re wasting time,” the American said, catching his blade again. “While Balinese is probably getting drunk and crying on Schuldig’s shoulder.”

With Schuldig again?

Didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, he told himself even as something inside crashed like a window meeting Ken’s soccer ball. It didn’t matter, all the better, he could kill Schuldig and bring Yohji home in one mission, that would truly please Aya-chan–

“He’s waiting for you to rescue him. Or crying because he thinks you won’t bother.”

Aya checked his attack. “Schuldig was kidnapped too.”

“Telepaths,” Crawford said, not relaxing because he was an intelligent man, “are not as invincible as they would have everyone believe.”

“And precognitives,” Aya said, still at guard, “do not know as much as they think, ne?”

“I could mention how well you protect your teammates, but I am certain we will have time to trade barbs later. I’m offering to lead you to Balinese, in exchange for you following. Can you do that?”

Obey the Oracle? For Yohji– “No.” Aya swirled, and the point of his blade poked through the fabric to nick Crawford’s chin. Speed was the answer, he couldn’t block what he didn’t see soon enough. “Partners.”

“A temporary partnership,” Crawford agreed with the glinty-glasses evil smile.

“Very temporary.”

**********

Yum talay–spicy Thai seafood salad. Arak is a liquor distilled from coconut wine.