A/N: First WeiB fic. I think it'll eventually turn pretty sexual - and those respective parts will be posted on R&R. Reviews make me very happy.
Summary: Masafumi Takatori controlled his dolls. His faithful, adoring assassins that kissed the ground he walked on. With only one of them did he go beyond unspoken rules. He assumed he owned her body as well as all else, until Schuldich came along... (Hell/Schu)
Disclaimer: Last time I checked I owned nothing.
Memories blah blah
Mind Conversation i blah blah /i
Thoughts blah blah
b Irresistibly Guilty - Chapter I /b
The quick and evenly timed footfalls on the spotless floor of the hall right outside Masafumi Takatori's office door loudly echoed, breaking the deafening silence. Her wrinkled dress-suit was half way pulled off and she desperately tried to pull it back on also trying to un-smudge her lipstick at the same time. And getting nowhere fast. Her silk pantyhose were sagging because of the torn suspenders. Her what used to be perfectly styled coiffure now slumped to one side with random tendrils of raven hair falling out. She finally found the door to the washroom and quickly pushing it got in and locked it from the inside. Anyone who wanted to go would probably think that the janitor was cleaning.
Looking upon herself in the mirror she sighed biting back bitter tears, practically ignoring the ache between her thighs. This was Aoi Chizuru. Masafumi's un-paid whore. He would call her into his office every day for an "urgent meeting" and... Rape her. Taking her anywhere. On the floor, on his desk, against the wall. The sex was violent, painful and sometimes even bloody. Though he would give her a week at the most to recover, if the injuries weren't too bad, then back to raping he went. Tearing her. Breaking her.
Choked moans and shrieks would escape her throat. Hell would fight, but somewhere down the middle of the act her body would betray her and she would cling to him and scream his name. She couldn't control how loud she was. But of course, the all knowing Masafumi had soundproof walls.
At some point it became un-earthly pleasure but that was just a temporary haze. He just pushed her out. Brushed her off like an unneeded nuisance. Any time she tried to confront him about it he would just tell her she was imagining things or scold her for "lying". The selfish bastard. Avoiding conversation regarding what he did at any cost. At a certain point in time she actually thought she fell in love with him. That was before he got into the habit of forcing sex on her. Maybe it was just infatuation - she didn't know but the one thing the dark haired woman knew for sure was that now she hated him. With all her heart she detested the man that raped her and turned her inside out with pain. Pure, unadulterated loathing. The kind of hate she couldn't just satisfy by throwing darts at his portrait.
Masafumi Takatori was a hideous man. But then again, like father like son, Reiji wasn't too great himself. Hell guessed that good looks didn't run in the family. The younger Takatori didn't possess any charisma or at least wit at all. The day he would finally grow to have the smallest bit of charm would be the day pigs learned to fly. And somehow she managed to fall in love, or even be infatuated with a slimy piece of sadistic fucking shit like Masafumi. Well thank goodness it was gone. Long gone.
His eyes dangerously narrowed as his hand slowly traveled down her leg, then stopping at her knee and pulling it up. She would defy him no longer. He would have her no matter what.
A tiny gasp escaped her throat as cold fear swallowed her whole. But a swift smack across the face brought her back to reality. At the moment he was pushing her against the wall as he tore her shirt open, only to find that she wasn't wearing a bra. One thing the dark haired woman realized after the first couple of weeks was that she wasn't about to waste any of her expensive lingerie to please him. Masafumi would have to make use of the simple business suit.
He grabbed her face and turned it to him making her look into his eyes. Her apathetic gaze almost didn't phase him as he rid her of her clothes. Hell made no move to help him - if the asshole wanted a whore he would do all the work.
He roughly thrust into her with no warning, drawing a strangled noise out of her, as he hit the same wounds over and over. Inside as well as out. He groaned and muttered disgusting little phrases into her ear.
Funny thing was, it wasn't the continues abuse that made her feel lower than dirt, it was the fact that he was telling her what she was. Almost mixing her with shit as he fucked her senseless. At some point actually convincing her that she was a whore.
"Nothing more... Nothing less... Just a filthy whore." came his cold whisper as his body violently twitched and he slumped against her after final release...
Right about now she was trying to wipe blood and semen off her inner thighs. He disgusted her. Made her sick. Just thinking about him made her want to vomit. And she couldn't do anything about it. Fighting was useless because he'd beat her. Just slap her or punch her so hard she couldn't go outside for about a month.
Then things got worse. He would storm into her apartment in the middle of the night, piss-ass drunk and always furious and rape her. More and more. Always hungry and vicious. Tearing her up inside like a fucking animal. Sometimes beating her just for fun.
Hell slowly unbuttoned her wrinkled shirt and took it off, it was half torn anyway. Bite marks on her breasts. Broken skin on her stomach. She bit back tears and swallowed bile as she turned the tap water onto hot. Slowly running wet hands along her chest to wash off blood.
The fresh wounds would probably scar, but it was nothing a couple of surgeries couldn't fix. She did have the money, at least the jackass paid her well. Maybe she was after all a paid whore. Though Hell was an unwilling one.
Taking a nail file out of her Louis Vuitton purse she leaned down to the bottom half of the opposite wall that had tiles on it. Sticking the file into a small hole in between two corner tiles she took a step back watching the row of tiles move in and down revealing a hidden space in the wall. Then taking a black backpack out of the space, the dark haired woman closed the space in the wall and turned back to the mirror.
After Hell washed herself off as best as she could, she took her ruined suit and heels and stuffed them into the bag. Putting on a clean sweat suit and a pair of running shoes she erased her half-smudged office make up and put on some light shades. She yanked all the useless bobby pins out of her hair and watched as it fell upon her shoulders. Quickly brushing it she tied it into a neat bun and put in bright blue contact lenses.
Her reputation absolutely had to stay impeccable. Pulling the hood over her eyes she took the backpack and walked out of the women's facilities. Hell got the afternoon off for her "outstanding job". A reward.
·
Crawford walked into the kitchen and calmly poured himself a cup of coffee. Perfection. His body and mind perfected down to every breath and molecule. His movement. Slow, steady and calculated as he lowered himself on a chair and looked into his newspaper not even glancing at ex-carrot head, while Schuldich eyed him as if he could see through his skin.
Devilishly green eyes, an arrogant smirk and a gorgeously sculpted mess of what used to be shocking red hair cascading down his shoulders and back, since now it was a dark chestnut brown. Schuldich was sexy, as much as everyone hated to admit it. He had a vulgar air to him. His vocabulary consisted of mainly profanity in three different languages, and still, he managed to be so impossibly alluring that even men sometimes questioned their, so to speak, "straight-ness".
A loud shattering noise came from the opposite side of the table where Schuldich was sitting. The German deliberately pushed a cup off the table smirking as his eyes met Brad's skeptical gaze.
"They're porcelain..." Brad muttered and looked back down at his new paper.
"Fuck you." was the redhead's simple response.
Schuldich was a manipulative bastard and he knew it. The fact that he would get anything he wanted one way or another was comforting and fearful at the same time. But the only thing he could never get was Brad's attention. The German went to great lengths to get it, negative or positive. Okay. Only negative. Positive was really out of the question. Attention from Brad was a really big thing to start off with. Crawford was devoted to Esset, business and of course American money. The three main things he probably truly loved. Bradley was the only one who Schuldich wanted to be noticed by. It was just simple recognition he was looking for. Nothing harsh, and definitely nothing sexual. Years at Rozenkreuz made him
The voices left. They disappeared after Crawford got him off all the shit they drugged him with at the asylum in Germany with morphine. And then off the morphine with nicotine. And that way the telepath stayed. Though when Brad just found him, his head was a mess. A screaming bloody mess of rape and physical abuse. They still haunted him. Occasional nightmares were always going to be there. Even though Crawford helped him with the insomnia that at first they led to, Schu was still a little hesitant before going to sleep.
They haven't had to accompany Takatori anywhere for a few weeks now, so it was somewhat they're time off. Schuldich really didn't see a point in protecting the dumb old bastard anyway, besides of course getting paid. He lazily lit a cigarette and looked out the window. It was raining for about two days straight so Schu didn't even bother going outside. But the atmosphere inside wasn't much better so dropping a quick English "I'm going out.." he grabbed his black leather jacket and walked out, accidentally-on-purpose slamming the door.
·
Her weary bones ached as she stood in the pouring rain looking for change to buy a bus ticket. This was a very much shitty day for a bus ride, but for reputation-saving purposes she couldn't get into her black Porsche and drive to the mansion.
Ahh yes... Change... The dark haired woman thought as she inwardly smirked at small miracles and walked along the concrete sidewalk with her hands in her pockets. The nearest coffee shop was a couple of blocks away so she could have a mocha and a piece of strawberry cheese-cake and maybe then try to find some cash in her bag for another bus ride. Right now she tried to concentrate on what she was going to say to her team mates when they found her home early and with minor showing injuries, yet again.
Being fucked my Masafumi required flexibility in the least, but unfortunately, being as lazy as Hell was she didn't go to the GYM or even stretch at all in the last month. She slowed down and rubbed her thigh. Fuck... Pulled another muscle.
Masafumi was pissed today. He didn't normally hit her until he was finished, or she bled on his new couch/carpet.. He yanked her leg up over his shoulder causing her to wince in pain and clenching her fists slam them against the wall as he violently fucked the brains out of her. Hollow gasps tore out of her throat as her hands traveled to his back tearing the skin underneath the white dress-shirt he was wearing. The dark haired woman felt foreign blood on her fingers as she ground her teeth together trying not to make any loud sound or push up against him too much. Officially she was still his girlfriend. Sadly enough, it scared her to no end to imagine what he would do to her if she told anyone about the rapes. And it was rape, pure and certified rape.
Suddenly Masafumi's hand grabbed a good clump of her hair, and pulling her face up to him he kissed her. His lips crushed her in a bruising kiss that lasted what seemed like hours. He was still tugging at her hair and she thought he was going to tear it out with a piece of her scalp right up until the point he let go. He made low guttural sounds, slamming into her harder and harder. He beaten and battered body slowly grew number as her tight grip on his back slacked and she fell into unconsciousness...
The bus was brought to a slow stop by an elderly driver as the doors opened. Hell got onto the vehicle giving him the money as she looked around for a vacant seat. Luckily there was one at the back, where she proceeded to move.
Rain drops quickly slid down the already wet outside of the glass as she leaned her head against it trying not to think about anything. Hell wasn't too successful. The memory of his voice alone made her shiver as she stuck her shaking hand in her pocket looking around for the sickly expensive twelve-pack of slim menthol cigarettes. Finding it Hell quickly plucked one out lighting it, and right away getting some dirty looks and points to the "No Smoking" sign. The driver didn't see. She smiled. Thank God for small miracles.
·
The smoke from the cigarette already hung thickly right under the ceiling of Schu's car. He didn't seem to give a shining shit. Some shithead cut him off getting right in front of the telepath's car. He loudly swore in his native language and almost bit the cigarette in half. A second later he was already grinning that sick evil little grin of his as he penetrated the 32-year-old construction worker's mind.
'Must. Buy. Wife. Present. For. Anniversary. Or. Go. Month. Without. Sex. Wife. Be. So. Pissed.'
'Guess this is just isn't your day to get laid. Or your month...' the ex-read-haired-now-brown-haired bastard thought within the privacy of his own mind as he erased the date of their anniversary out of the mind section of the guy's brain.. Still grinning he sped past him on a red light and took another drag off his cigarette.
Raking his hand through his hair he again remembered it was now a dark brown.. Schuldich really didn't know what possessed him to permanently dye his hair.. Whether it was the depression or it was the fact that it was too noticeable, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.. Well, he didn't really know why he changed his whole clothing style either.. He just happened to wake up one day and thought 'Hey, why don't I dye my hair a neutral color and stop dressing like highlighter?" and it just seemed to have all happened in one day.. Out went the neon colored clothes, replaced with designer labels in dark pastel colors that looked elegant not skanky... Now he dressed more like Crawford than himself. No. Not Crawford.
'God forbid my new clothing collection to have a business suit in it.' then smirking Schu thought 'If I were to say with to Farf he would probably kill me... Funny thing is he would actually do it. Or just make me wear business suits for the rest of my life.'
As the telepath rolled up to his favorite coffee shop almost on the other side of the city he stepped outside and remembered it was raining.. But it was too late. His cigarette already died...
·
She was finally within the walls of the cozy little place she truly loved. With a shaky voice she ordered a piece of strawberry cheesecake and a medium French Vanilla quickly yanking a couple wrinkled bills out of her backpack as she threw them onto the counter and without taking her change.
Her favorite pace to sit was the small table for two in the very corner right beside the window. Though no one ever joined her on the table.. She liked to watch the crowded street, the people going about they're affairs. Just to be the spectator, not participate in any of it. Maybe try to read they're expressions.
Only when she actually look a glance a the cheesecake in her hand did she realize how hungry she really was. Quickly taking a large bite out of it Hell leaned back on the cushioned seat and sighed closing her eyes. Opening them she didn't even get a chance to chew it and almost choked. Walking into the coffee shop was the single most sexy man. Dark chestnut brown hair was a little over shoulder length and cut to a more American style, slightly layered with shorter bangs at the front. He casually gave her a glance that overstayed at her body and then slid on to the menu up on the wall. His eyes were hidden by dark shades in expensive frames as he brought his sinuous body up to the counter to order. After a minute his form slowly turned with an espresso in hand and walked towards the back of the coffee place where she just i happened /i to be sitting.
·
'Hmm. Nice rack.' Schu thought as he looked over the dark haired chick in the corner of the establishment. Meeting her was nothing. Vibrant and unrealistic blue eyes stared at him questioningly as he approached her table for two. Slowly halting at her table he put his espresso down and gave her a particularly seductive look.
"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" asked the telepath getting ready to penetrate her mind, but found himself in front of an almost unbreakable wall.
·
Hell moved a few strands of thick black hair away from her face looking up at the man that seemed vaguely familiar. He moved like a panther. Slow. Graceful. Elusive. His steps were almost silent as he put his espresso on the table across from her and she slightly jumped but not enough for him to notice. Then followed his question.
"Uhh..."her voice was quiet though strangely not hoarse "No. This seat isn't taken." She finally looked up at him and sensed something closely and almost painfully familiar about him.
'Where have I seen him before.' The light German accent seemed all too known to her but she still couldn't put her finger on it.
The brown haired man didn't bother asking her whether he could occupy that seat, but he obviously didn't give much of a shit...
·
His eyes roamed the cleavage that she probably didn't suspect she had, at the same time he was somewhat disturbed at the fact that a plain person would have such a strong wall around they're mind. Unless they've encountered a telepath before, knowing of their talent. Schuldich sensed familiarity about this woman, still looking down her hoodie. But she couldn't possibly notice.
"So what is a gorgeous little girl like you doing here all alone?" idly eyeing her half shaded face now. Her voice appeared smooth and unshaken as she looked down at her cheesecake and responded.
"Having a coffee, what else?"
The telepath smirked and said a little more quietly "You could use that sexy mouth of yours for other things." as his shades unconsciously slid down his nose revealing brilliant jade eyes.
·
i Thegermanasshole! /i her eyes widened as she almost choked sipping her French Vanilla. She took off her hood and looked at him muttering in a matter-of-fact voice. Of course it was him - only he used lines that wouldn't get him any girl. It was just to get their initial attention. After that it was all mind-control.
"I'm out of your league, and I'm not little." taking another sip. His expression was priceless as his smirk drooped, then turning into a full-blown grin.
"Hell? Never thought I'd see you here. You're right, you aren't exactly a girl anymore. But time's been kind to you, if I do say so myself." he replied slyly.
"Don't you have some teenage girls to corrupt via mind control?" she asked coldly, picking at the cheesecake.
"Why are you wearing contacts?" he inquired, suddenly serious, probing her with sinful green eyes.
"I like variety. But that's not important. If you don't leave - I will." Hell snapped, in short, sharp sentences.
"No you don't. You favor the same tailor, same coffee, same brand of toothpaste even..." the dark-haired, né red-haired fucker trailed off, the corners of his lips twitching in a half repulsive smirk as he let the realization sink in. Realization of the fact that Hell was no longer concentrating on her 'wall' which constituted the fact that the wall was fading.
"Fuck you. Get out of my head." her voice was quiet and harsh, meaning no nonsense. Her barrier became once more impenetrable. "Oh and why, pray tell have you dyed your hair a this ridiculous color?" Hell shot back at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I like variety too." he grinned maniacally. Rolling her eyes she grabbed her bag and coffee and rose to leave. Once she took a step past him she felt strong, lithe fingers grab her wrist and impulsively turned her head to look into wild, electric eyes...
A/N: There you go. Like it? Hate it? Tell me. Review.