CHAPTER IV: In Which Ken Scares Himself, And Crawford Shows His True Colors
Siberian smiled and hummed a silent tune to himself from where he perched, watching as Schwarz rushed into the room beneath him. Crawford, as usual, stayed back near the door, just slightly in front of Siberian's hiding spot.
"Dammit," Schuldich growled, kicking the dying body of Weiss's target. He winced, sticking a finger in his ear as if to clear his hearing. "I should have known."
"You did know," Crawford snorted. "I told you they would be here."
"I've been hearing this song in my head for hours!"
Crawford turned his head and glanced behind him. Siberian faltered and licked his lips, wondering just how much or how early the man could see the future. A small smile appeared on Crawford's lips. "They're getting smarter."
Schuldich glared at Crawford. "And why aren't we getting any smarter?" He kicked the body again, rolling it toward a broken window. "We get paid to deliver each of these idiots right into Weiss's damned waiting vigilante hands, and now they've got me singing nursery rhymes in my sleep. I thought you had some kind of plan for them, Crawford."
"You're complaining that we're getting paid?"
Schuldich snorted and spat on the ground. "I'm complaining that we have to deal with these idiots every other week, just to serve them up to Weiss on a platter."
"You have a better idea?"
Suddenly Schuldich turned and faced an overturned desk. "Right there!"
Siberian watched as Bombay leapt clear from behind the desk just as Farfarello hurled a knife as long as his forearm though it. Bombay threw himself through a window. As Farfarello made to follow him, Balinese's garrote wire wrapped around his wrist. Distracted, Farfarello turned on Balinese.
"Nagi, go recover whatever Bombay took," Crawford drawled. "Schuldich–"
"Die!" Abyssinian yelled, charging the telepath.
"–You can try to kill Abyssinian," Crawford finished.
Siberian's vision blurred for a moment as Schuldich suddenly appeared to go in five directions at once. Choosing an apparition that ran past Crawford, Abyssinian followed in hot pursuit as Crawford obligingly stepped to the side to let him by. Nagi Naoe jumped through the window that Bombay had escaped through, followed immediately by Balinese, who was followed by Farfarello.
Siberian wondered to himself if Crawford had been planning things this way.
There was silence for a minute. Crawford put his hands in his pocket.
"You can come out now, Siberian," Crawford said, as if Siberian were standing right next to him. "I know you're here watching me."
Siberian kept his breathing even and didn't move. Crawford sighed. "I was wondering if you'd taken my advice and practiced some wrestling holds." Siberian could hear a smirk in his voice when he went on to say, "Although I think it's breaks you need to work on more than holds."
Biting his lip to keep from saying anything, Siberian waited.
"If you come out, I'll help you practice."
Siberian blushed to himself. Practicing holds and breaks didn't really seem to be what Crawford wanted him for.
"Maybe you'll get another chance for that nice uppercut you worked so hard on," Crawford went on. "Nagi's out of the building, so you won't have to worry about the roof falling in on your–"
Siberian cut him off as he vaulted down from his perch. Planting his knee squarely in Crawford's back, he locked the man's arms behind his back. Crawford didn't struggle as Siberian bore him to the floor. Instead he said, "Well done," turning his head to best see Siberian's face. "You have been practicing."
With both of Crawford's arms locked in place, Siberian glared into Crawford's eyes. "What kind of game are you playing?"
Crawford smiled. "You could come a little closer and ask that again," he offered, his voice the same purring murmur that had molested Siberian's ear the last time. "But I think you already know."
"You're trying to fuck with my head!"
"Not much," Crawford replied. He gazed hotly up at Siberian. "I'd rather fuck with you."
That caused Siberian to blink, and the moment's hesitation was enough advantage for Crawford. He twisted his wrists, arms and body all at the same time, dislodging Siberian as he turned the tables.
They fought for a few minutes. Siberian's new knowledge of holds and breaks made him a much more slippery target for Crawford to capture. Eventually, however, Crawford's greater strength and experience prevailed, and Siberian found himself splayed on a wall, his hands pinned over his head and Crawford's entire lower body keeping him in place, with Crawford's tongue exploring his mouth.
Siberian struggled, knowing it was useless but fighting just because it was the only thing he could do just then. He also realized that he was at a greater disadvantage this time, since Crawford appeared to only need one hand to keep both of his arms disabled. Again, just before he thought of biting Crawford, the other man retreated to kissing and licking his lips. Siberian breathed evenly through his nose, determined not to pass out from either lack of air or hyperventilating.
When Crawford pulled his mouth from Siberian's, it was to immediately turn to nibbling on the soft skin beneath Siberian's ear. Siberian gasped, feeling his toes curl inside his shoes.
"I'm not trying... to fuck with... your head," Crawford said as he kissed his way down Siberian's jaw. He stopped for a moment to press another hot kiss to Siberian's sensitized lips. "I'm succeeding," he purred, and returned the small, nipping kisses on his jaw.
Siberian couldn't think of anything to say. He was finding that to be a regular failing of his, recently.
"But I... might like..." Crawford went on, nibbling very delicately on the lobe of Siberian's other ear, "...to fuck with... your mouth." He licked the outer rim of Siberian's ear, then softly blew hot air on it. "If it's... half as nice... as kissing you... it'll be... definitely... worth it."
Thinking as best as he could, Siberian thought that the reason he could not think of anything to say was because there did not seem to be anything to say. He found his face getting hot, and he was panting even though he had long-since stopped trying to break free.
Crawford noticed, and turned his eyes back on Siberian's. Crafty, calculating brown eyes locked with a pair of confused brown eyes. Crafty eyes crinkled around the edges. Crawford was grinning again. "You could just stop fighting," he suggested, making Siberian's eyes widen. "I'm not going to stop until I get what I want."
Siberian gulped, and tried to struggle again. "I don't know what you want," he gasped out. "And I'm not telling you anything!"
"But you already have," Crawford murmured, pressing his lips against Siberian's again to stop him squirming. Siberian stilled, inhaling and exhaling quickly through his nose as he tried to figure out what Crawford was talking about. Was Schuldich nearby? Was he pulling information out of his head?
Crawford snuck a quick lick along his captive's tongue before breaking the kiss. "No, Schuldich isn't here," he said, all for the world as if he'd just read Siberian's thoughts himself, "He's still playing with your Abyssinian."
"I haven't told you anything and I'm not going to."
"You told me this," Crawford purred, kissing that spot just below Siberian's ear. Siberian gasped again, this time with voice, turning his shock into a small moan. "See?" Siberian found himself unable and unwilling to struggle as the other man continued to take advantage of that sensitive spot.
When Crawford finally broke away, it was to see Siberian red-faced and panting, his gaze hot as he took a moment to lick dry lips and swallow before saying, "...Why?"
Crawford grinned. Just as Siberian thought, the other man only needed one hand to hold him in place. The other hand was suddenly unzipping his leather jacket and pushing it to the side. "...Wha...?" Siberian gasped. He struggled weakly, then watched, amazed, as Crawford swiftly undid his shirt buttons one-handed. He didn't see any more beyond that, though, because Crawford was kissing him again.
His shirt open and the chill night wind from the broken windows blowing into the room, Siberian was glad he dressed in layers. Not that it helped him as Crawford's hand discovered his undershirt, which was immediately pulled loose from its mooring in the waistband of his pants, and then Crawford's warm hand was on his stomach and chest, pushing his shirt up while feeling for more skin.
Siberian moaned, unable to stop himself. An answering growl from Crawford filled his mouth, making him moan again. He could not tell if he was breathing through his mouth or his nose anymore, only that everything tasted and smelled like the man who had him pinned against the wall. He could not find much reasoning in his head to care anymore, either.
Crawford's tongue was in his mouth again, mapping his lips and teeth. Siberian found himself returning the assault, forcing the other man's tongue to retreat. He shocked himself by following in after, shoving his own tongue into Crawford's mouth.
A moment later, he pulled away, horror on his face. He was kissing a member of Schwarz! Crawford had kissed him, but then he had kissed Crawford back. And, he realized, horrified, he was enjoying it. He panted hard, trying to get his thoughts together as Crawford licked and kissed the corner of his mouth.
"S-stop," Siberian whispered.
Crawford pulled away, frowning. "You should know better, Siberian," he said, disapprovingly. He bit Siberian's jaw lightly, just enough to cause some pain. "I'm not going to stop just because you want me to."
Siberian's eyes were focused in the distance. Slowly, turning his head, he brought them over to meet Crawford's. "Why?"
Crawford's brow furrowed. "Because I want to," he said, and kissed Siberian again, this time with more force. Siberian whimpered and struggled, his breathing starting to show signs of panic. Crawford broke the kiss and glared at him. "You were doing much better before," he growled, clearly annoyed at the sudden change in Siberian's reaction.
Siberian closed his mouth and gulped, setting his lips in a tight line that defied Crawford, though his eyes were still large and worried.
Frowning, Crawford leaned forward again to kiss him, but Siberian turned his head and twisted his shoulders. "No," Siberian said. "I said stop."
"Lovers listen when someone says 'stop,'" Crawford hissed, catching Siberian's chin and forcing his face towards him. "I don't." Siberian twisted his head and wrenched his chin out of Crawford's fingers.
Annoyed, Crawford let go of Siberian. Hands and feet too-long inactive were useless as he dropped to the floor by the wall. As he tried to pull himself up, Crawford strode to the window to look out.
Siberian flexed his hands, letting the blood flow through them again. He looked up to see Crawford at the window, frowning at whatever was outside. "I still don't understand," he said quietly, half to himself and half to Crawford.
Crawford glanced back at him. Siberian stood slowly, as if to show that he had no intention of attacking the other man. Once upright, he rubbed his wrists again where Crawford had held them against the wall. He looked at his hands, then up at Crawford. He glanced around the room, back at his hands, at the window, never letting his eyes rest on Crawford for more than a second. Finally he looked at the wall where Crawford had pinned him, seeing a Siberian-shaped smudge in the dirt that coated most of the wall.
He glanced at Crawford again, who was watching him, and gulped. "...Thanks," he said shortly, then turned and ran through the door, away from Crawford.