Plurk paste

What happened last night? You cannot remember all of the details clearly. Your old life is crystal clear to you, and you remember the tug that seemed to painfully pull at your very soul, but the rest comes slowly as you lay awake in your bed. The fading sun shines through the window, and the room is comfortable, and a flash of memory in which you were handed a key reminds you that this is your room.

Ah, that's right, isn't it? You were summoned through powerful, dark magic. You were told of your sins and how they have been turned into debts. You were confused. You may have been angry and lashed out, only to discover you felt very, very uncomfortable with the very idea of attacking the eight women who welcomed you. There was a cup, and you drank from it, and it was the sweetest wine you'd ever tasted. You may even be licking your lips now at the memory, at the thirst for more. You remember feeling calm after that. Being led to your room, and having a bath drawn for you by an eager, giggling maid. You relaxed in the tub for as long as you liked, and then eventually, curled up in your bed and went to sleep.

You must have been quite tired, to have slept so late in the day. But as your initial grogginess eases, you feel physically refreshed. As for your emotions, well-- they are yours. You feel whatever it is you would feel in a situation such as this. But you are not allowed to feel it long, before that same giggling maid knocks upon your door and opens it. She doesn't give you much time to ask her questions, and if you try, she'll tell you only that the sisters have all the answers and not she. The maid helps you dress in a fine, elegant outfit from your wardrobe and sends you on down to the ballroom as the sun gives way to dusk entirely.

The ballroom is as grand and elaborate as the rest of the house, and there you find all of your new coworkers being sent under much the same conditions as yourself. There's pleasing music, and a fine display of food, and the eight women from last night mingle among their new employees with an elegance and power that makes them immediately recognisable.

So, what do you do now?

------

[He's not pleased. Not so much over being pulled from his world; he may not necessarily like this unfamiliar place, but hadn't they said that men with their skills could live anywhere? And since his last memories are ones of a massive tower collapsing on him, he can't say his situation hasn't improved somewhat.

But Schuldig doesn't like being separated from the rest of Schwarz. They may all aggravate him in their own ways, but they're valuable resources he's come to rely on - not to mention like minds with like purposes, which is no minor consideration. Hadn't Crawford seen this coming? If their dear precognitive fucked up and Schuldig is paying the price for it...well, it's no easy task to avenge oneself on a precog, especially one that might still be under a few hundred tons of rubble in a completely different world, but he will find a way.

Still, for all the inconvenience and uncertainy he could do without, he's better off than most. He's gleaning information about the place far faster than any normal person could, acclimating quicker...and while he hates anyone telling him what to do, the impression he's getting is that paying off this debt of his could be downright enjoyable. Considering the sinning he'd done to incur the debt was enjoyable, too...well, he doesn't really see a downside, save for having to knuckle under some smug people with supernatural powers for the interum. And oh, certainly he's not thrilled about that; they'd just gotten rid the last bastards who thought they could bring Schwarz to heel. To have that freedom snatched away before he'd even gotten to luxuriate in it is infuriating.

But...well, the operative fact of the matter was that they'd just gotten rid of the last bastards who thought they could bring Schwarz to heel. What can be done once can be done again, even if Schuldig has to do it by himself. He'll have to bide his time, of course, and that's hardly his specialty...but it seems like the entertainment while he waits should be better than any Esset provided, at least. (Considering that when they'd been working for Esset, they'd provided all the fun themselves...)

Tonight at least makes the future seem promising, however uncertain it might be. Good music, luxurious food, a passable suit even if it's not his usual style...and a mass of panicked, unhappy people at much more of a loss than himself. People who might get violent or sink into despair at the slightest nudge...

Schuldig's as happy as a spark in a powder keg. So it's no surprise that, as he sips some champagne, he's one of the few people who looks actually maliciously pleased with his circumstances.]

------

You look like a piece of thit with how you're grinning.

[What? Someone had to point it out, and why not him? Psii figures it's his civic duty.]

[Or maybe he's just an asshole.]

[Or maybe the worrying amount of alcohol he's been inhaling the last few hours is starting to take effect. The world may never know.]

------

[Oh, good. It's so rare for Schuldig to come across something entirely new that he knew he'd be indulging his curiosity about these aliens from the moment he spotted the first one...and now one's all but fallen into his lap.

Even better, it's the most intriguing one of the lot so far. Schuldig's been giving them all cursory scans, and this one's mind provided some resistance to Schuldig's exploratory probing. He hadn't pushed deeply enough to hit any real walls, but it was enough to feel the presence of them.

That could mean a lot of things; his telepathy has its limits. But it was significant enough to be worth looking into, and it required more straightforward means to do so. If Psii hadn't come to him, no doubt Schuldig would have worked his way over to him sooner or later.

At the insult, he simply turns that smirk on Psii. His teeth aren't fangs, but it's a smile worthy of a troll.]

Sounds like someone's mad they put him in a skirt.

------

[And that is all the indication he needs that this fucker is bad news.]

[Most of the humans around here have been more like lowbloods than anything, so far as he's been able to tell from a few first meetings. Not a lot that were harmless, probably, but not prone to being complete controlling pieces of shit off the bat. They worked together better.]

[But that's a highblood sort of grin, more than anything. Sharp and untrustworthy and enough to put him on edge. He doesn't need vision twofold to tell him if shit is going to go down. Gut instinct is more than clear enough on that already.]

[That statement, however, is enough to have him raise an eyebrow.]

Why would I be mad about a thkirt?

[Seriously, the fuck?]

------

[Schuldig laughs.] Among humans, only women wear them.

[And he knows this alien isn't female, by what he can already tell are the differing standards for his kind. There are some personal facts that are burned into a mind, that simply permeate it as the fundamental building blocks of identity. They're impossible for anyone whose mind he can access at all to hide - like a unique watermark. Gender, name, race, species, everything that makes up the sense of self.

In the meantime, he notes Psiioniic's rising wariness with a feeling of pure pleasure. Feeling trapped by and inferior to the witches hasn't done his mood any favors, but at least being recognized by others as the very real danger he represents is a balm to the ego.]

------

Well, I don't really give a fuck about what the women of your kind wear.

[It sounds dumb as hell anyway. A pretty dress or skirt is a pretty dress or skirt, so long as it fits your frame... From what he can tell, anyway. He never was the clothing expert. That was all Dolorosa.]

[And besides, heels make good improvised weaponry.]

------

[Schuldig shrugs and smirks.] Then I guess you're just angry about being trapped and helpless...? Too bad. At least the skirt you could have done something about.

------

I think there'th a lot about your thit-eating perthonality you could've done a lot about ageth ago, but apparently it'sh a bit too late on that front.

------

Now someone's just irritated not everyone is as lost and helpless as they are. [Schuldig's grin is now actively condescending.] Do the insults help?

[It's a bit early to call, but you may have found a bigger asshole than yourself, Psii.]

------

I'm hardly lotht or helpleth, thanksh. I'm jutht pithed off like anyone in their right mind would be.

[Dislike for this guy: increasing]

------

Implying I'm not in my right mind? [Oh, Schuldig always likes the ones that call him crazy. There's a vast gulf between insanity and sociopathy that such people simply ignore, and in Schuldig's eyes it all comes down to a matter of control. His perceptions aren't altered, and he decides his responses in a rational state of mind. And as a telepath...he's never not in control of himself. Not being dead or catatonic is proof enough he's not crazy, since those are his only alternatives.]

The way I see it, the people who are pissed off are the ones who are worried. [His smirk is always predatory, but it seems especially so with the next word.] Afraid.

After all, if you're not, why would you be pissed off? Free food and drink, a nice party...and I know this is an improvement from where I got pulled from. [This statement is a barbed hook, meant to jerk Psii's thoughts of where he'd been pulled from straight to the forefront of the man's mind for easier perusal by Schuldig.] So why would you be pissed off, unless you can't acclimate to the situation and you don't believe you can do anything about it?

------

I'm implying you're a goddamn piece of thit ith what I'm implying.

[Great. Just great. He's had to run into this kind of person on his first night in some shit world. Fate really shat out his luck when all the little grubs were being handed out traits and fortune.]

It'sh not free, firtht of all, and you damn well know it. And a perthon can be plenty pithed off and thtill know they can do thomething. For example! You're pithing me off right now, but I'm thure ath hell not thcared of you.

[Wary, now, that's something different entirely. Anyone would be wary around some asshole spouting off what he is, in a place where you don't entirely know the skills of the people gathered on an alien planet.]

------

It's free up until they start demanding payment. [Schuldig shoots him a sidelong grin.] All the more reason to take as much advantage of it as possible until then, right? Besides, it's not the food and drink they're going to be asking for payment for, is it? It's our sins.

And from what I've heard of the payment they'll be demanding, I've had to do far less appealing things for more boring people. And they served worse food. [He chuckles and takes another sip of champagne.] Any inconvenience this represents, well...I may not be happy about that, but all things come to those who wait. And the waiting seems like it could be relatively pleasant, so why not enjoy myself as much as I can? You let me know how being ineffectually angry all night works out for you.

[At the remark about not being scared of him, Schuldig's lips curl back from his teeth a little further.] Maybe not. But I make you nervous, and I haven't even done anything yet. It's not a big step, is it?

------

[For the love of... Someone had told the huge douchebag about the sex slave thing.]

[The fact that he's taking it so easily in stride, acting like he's still king of the world, like he's not just one more stupid little asshole that is going to be jerked around like the rest of them by whatever strings are now attached, is infuriating. It's the same kind of nauseating bullshit he had to deal with highbloods as a slave before he finally get fed up with it and went 2URPRII2E BIITCHE2.]

[Probably wouldn't have the same effect here in this context, he thinks as he narrows his eyes at the piece of shit masquerading as a person. But he has to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. This whole fucking situation is dumb as fuck and as tempting as it is to play the game and play it better than this fucker, no, he's not. He's made enough bad life decisions.]

I wath actually having a pretty decent fucking time until your face became too offenthive to not be addrethed.

[Half lie, half truth. He'd been comforting himself with the amount of food and booze here, and good company at some times, but he never stopped being angry at the bullshit.]

I'm not nervouth, fuck mouth.

------

You talk as though you actually intend to do anything about it. [Schuldig grins.] But you're playing it safe, right? You can tell yourself any kind of lie you like about why that is, but don't think you can fool me. The only reason anyone ever holds themselves back from doing whatever they please is because they're afraid of the consequences. And you only fear consequences when you don't think you can handle them.

That's why I make you nervous. That's why I piss you off. I'm not afraid, and you know what that means. You know what power looks like when you see it. Are you posturing to me because you care what I think, or are you just trying to convince yourself that you're not afraid by confronting the person that scares you most?

[His smirk is absolutely feral by the time he stops speaking, and that's only to wind up for his coup de grâce. He knows the next words will spark a reaction - which may not even be necessary; the speech that preceded it might have been enough - and that's exactly what he wants. He doesn't care how violent it is outwardly, or what Psii might do. All he cares about is the mental shambles he can create with it.

To that end, he slots each word into place with the deadly precision of bullets into chambers, makes his voice as cold as ice and imperious as a king's. He's picked up enough details of what Psii has been comparing to for him to work with.]

Know your place, *lowblood*. [An actual troll couldn't put more amused derision into that last word.]

------

[Know your place, lowblood-]

[Crimson blood still on his fingertips, sweat dripping from his temples, pain pain sheering burning, glaring yellow but not his sign, trying again and again and again because he didn't want to see, didn't want to even be- ]

[Fucking *telepath* is the last crystal clear thought in his head.]

[It's all replaced by nonstop thoughts of coding, but only after his psionics suddenly lash out, sharp blue and piercing red electric around Schuldig's throat and tightening- jerking him forward until Psii can dig his fingers into his shirt with his teeth bared and eyes crackling with energy. He still has enough presence of mind to not start anything right there, not in the middle of the dance floor, and to not let his psionics be too bright.]

[He just needs his fingers dug into Schuldig's shirt and drags him out of the ballroom, far enough from the glamor and glitz and lights until he can slam him into the wall of somewhere just a little more secluded. The psi around the fucker's throat doesn't go, but it eases up just a little.]

I can't fucking thtand people poking their goddamn prongth into my pan!

[It's snarled out.]

------

[Well, that is certainly a reaction.

Schuldig had known the psionics were a possibility; Psii had thought about them, after all, visualized them, so their existence had certainly come across the German's mental desk. He's not actually surprised that they've been put into use, though the speed of Psii's reaction is impressive. He'd honestly expected the troll to be rocked back for a second or two longer.

The choking grip around his throat is a problem(though not one Schuldig can claim he's never faced before), and instinctively a hand darts up to his throat to grasp at something that he knows, intellectually, isn't physically there. But some reactions have nothing to do with thought. The other hand...well, if Psii pays attention, it dives straight into one of Schuldig's pockets. His grip on his gun, aiming it at Psii through his coat, is insurance; if things get bad, he'll fire. But he's been in worse trouble than this, and he's in no rush to pull the trigger.

Being strangled, slammed against the wall - actually, this is an improvement on his night. He'll take violence over a boring social function any day of the year. Even when the psionics around his throat are still tight, he's grinning.

The loosening of the chokehold just reassures him that Psii isn't going to kill him. That means he still has leeway. Leeway he'll use, of course, to keep messing with Psii's mind as much as possible. It's clear this isn't a mind he'll push into guilt and misery(though it's not far from that in its standing state, he can feel it just beneath the surface); no, Psii has his number. Any prodding on Schuldig's part will just provoke wrath.

It might not be his first choice, but it's a perfectly acceptable alternative. He might not be able to get the same results, but he's still got emotional leverage - which gives him control. Which gives him possibilities.

Talking is difficult like this - not impossible, but he can tell it'll be more work than he feels like for unsatisfactory results. How convenient he's not restricted to the spoken word.]

{You're the one shoving your thoughts into MY mind.} [His eyes glitter over a smile like broken glass.] {Or did you want to see what it's like when I actually exert myself?}

[He doesn't even bother going into Psiioniic's mind; that would be more effort than he cares to make, and perhaps a little touch and go when Psii is mentally controlling the force that's strangling him. (And, he'll admit, that makes it hard for him to focus on anything too in-depth.) But broadcasting? That's easy. All he has to do is focus on his own thoughts and project them outwards, let someone else hear him for a change...

He hammers thoughts and sensations into Psii's mind like wedges between spokes of a wheel. Amusement. Anger. Hatred. (So much of that, enough to fill the world.) Pain. Excitement. Hunger. The wall against his back. The psionic collar around his neck. The weight of the gun in his hand. The taste of champagne still on his lips. And all of it saturated in the white noise of a thousand thoughts at once.

It's utterly disorienting, and would serve as a weapon through that alone. But mostly Schuldig means it to be painful, overwhelming. Partly to underline that he's dangerous when he chooses to be, too...but also because the complaints about prying in people's heads are so tired. So many demands for privacy from people whose very existence denies him any...it's always an irritation.]

------

[Shit- ]

[It's like being in the heat of the rebellion all over again. So much noise, so many voices, clamoring like a thousand dirty gullbeasts in the docks but amped up a hundredfold. It had hurt so much. He'd wanted to scream. Wanted to set the world on fire just to make it stop. Even with Dolorosa's hand on his back and Signless' on his hand, Disciple working the kinks out of his back, it had hurt.]

[Denying those voices was something he thought he had gotten good at, but it had never been exposed to outright war.]

[Is this better- worse? He can't tell, there's just the sudden overwhelming sensation of it all, a gasp tearing out from his throat and the claws dug into Schuldig's jacket spasm. The psi wrapped around his throat spasms too, heating up in addition to clinging and relaxing in sudden bursts. The Psiioniic finds himself bowing his head as he tries to catch his breath again, tries desperately to block the intrusion, but goddammit, dammit, this isn't like blocking simple mind reading, this is something else, and he doesn't have the mental defenses to force it out. All he can do is try to have his mind process it best he can.]

[That's one small boon- the voices of the imminently deceased aren't as strong right now, not here in this world for whatever reason. Nothing like what was pulled from being in the middle of a war. The extra bits of his mind he can spare do their best to deal with all the influx of information.]

[However, spending so much energy, so much thought, means he can't quite deal with the other sensations being forcefed into his mind. Funny thing... The hatred and hunger in Schuldig's mind are wretched poisonous things, but they get translated to something quite different in a troll's mind, if only so it can make sense of them. The Psiioniic doesn't think on it- he can't, not being burdened like he is, so his body reacts on its own as he leans in close. The psionic collar around the human's throat does't go away, but it's joined by a clawed hand, the thumb pressing up against the soft part where jaw meets throat. Further down, his knee presses slightly between the other's legs.]

[It takes a second as his mind tries to reign in some control again, but he eventually forces his head to rise again, panting and eyes narrowed. His fangs are bared close to Schuldig's face.]

Fuck... you... Thounds... Thounds like a perthonal problem, you whiny piece of thit. Thoot me or fuck off.

[The words are grit out and he's left panting from the mental exertion.]

------

[Schuldig laughs. It's a constricted, choked sort of sound, but he really can't help it. Things are getting better with every second. The hand on his throat, the knee between his legs, the fact that Psii is so much closer now - he knows exactly how to read these things, in a way that has nothing to do with telepathy and everything to do with personal experience. He's not a troll, but he's had plenty of rough sex with people who wanted to hurt him as much as they just plain wanted him.

Sex with an angry alien on his first night...that would be an auspicious start to his stay.

He swallows as best he can around that pressure, licking his lips. That grin is still there; it's starting to seem like almost nothing can dislodge it.]

{Who's whining? I'm just correcting you. If I accused you of violating the privacy of the dead, wouldn't you point out they don't give you a choice...?

And you're the one holding me here. I can't leave unless you let me go.} [His smirk widens.] {Or are you telling me I have to shoot you?}

[This time Schuldig does reach into Psii's mind, if only to give a very specific part of his pan a deliberate nudge. It would be such a waste to shoot Psii now...especially with other possibilities on the table. The troll is already turned on; it's laughably easy to follow that back to the source, to crank it up to a level that can't be dismissed. Not enough to force Psii into anything, of course; half the fun is watching him try to resolve his desire for Schuldig with his seething distaste. Just like how creating that desire out of whole cloth wouldn't be fun; the fact that it's something Psii feels naturally is what gives it power. All Schuldig is doing is making it so he can't ignore the fact that he does feel it.

The fact that Psii is an alien doesn't even give Schuldig pause when doing this. So long as the sex is good, he could care less who it's with; if Psii wants to take this to a resolution with him, Schuldig will be more than willing. If not...well, there are other people. And other nights.]

------

[What an asshole. What a complete and irredeemable piece of arrogant shit. The alien hatred in his own mind mingles with the more natural loathing, the one that's his own and no one else's, growing and twisting into something pitch as a black hole. He wants to tear his claws through that obnoxious smirk, pull until he turns oil-blooded toxic motherfucker inside out and he's dripping his own blood onto the floor and staining it with his presence instead of his mind.]

[His claw presses harder into the tender spot of the fucker's throat.]

I don't go up to the dying with the intent of kicking them while they're already fucking- oh fuck-

[The flutter of his eyelids is the only indication of his eyes rolling back into his head for a brief moment, the complete opaqueness of them not revealing a thing themselves. Another flare of heat from his psi, even as his head comes to rest against the smug bastard's shoulder, breath hotter than any human's against his skin.]

[It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on.]

Fucking- no good thcumbag- get the fuck out-!

-----

[Perfect. Schuldig couldn't ask for better than this.

It's just plain dumb luck - and his naturally wanting to grip something - that lead's Schuldig's hand to grip roughly around the base of one of Psii's horns. He has no idea whether or not they're sensitive. (Although he'll probably have a very good idea within the next couple of seconds.) All he knows is that they're nearby, and they make a good handle to help him adjust the angle of Psii's head so he can put his lips near the troll's ear.]

I will when you let go of my throat. [The words are raspy at best from the compression of his throat, but in this moment that almost works. The infuriating part is that he actually sounds like he's laughing, or trying to - as much as Psii's chokehold will allow.]

------

['Next couple of seconds' is putting it nicely. The effect is almost immediate- a throaty moan as his claws poke through the material of his jacket in one spot and draw a thin red line down his throat in another. In his state, the pressure against his horn is like a shove, the last thing he needs before his knee presses up insistently into Schuldig's crotch.]

[And that's not even talking about the sensation of that voice against his ear, tugging at the heat in the pit of his stomach and rattling down his spine.]

[Letting himself fall victim to this sort of typical mindreader bullshit is so infuriating, so fucking stupid and pathetic, but for once there's someone else around for him to hate more than himself.]

Fuck you. Fuck you. [His own voice is harsh, not because he's being choked, but from how aroused he is. He can feel his bulges twisting in on each other in their sheathe and it makes him shudder.] Get on your knees and fucking pay tribute to my junk, I'll fucking conthider it, you eth-tee-dee riddled pile of thit...

------

[The blood drawn drags a hiss out of Schuldig, but it's almost immediately followed by a purr. Both sounds are still far too near Psii's ear for Psii's comfort.

Schuldig's making no secret of his own state, grinding himself against Psii's knee - and scanning his mind carefully for any hints of violence in that area, because that's a vulnerable place to have the knee of someone who absolutely hates you and Schuldig has in fact had such things end poorly for him before. Crawford is the precognitive, not him, and sometimes a split second's warning just isn't time enough.

Hopefully Psii is too distracted for that. And Schuldig's not above trying to ensure that, rubbing his thumb against that horn which he now most definitely knows is an erogenous zone.]

Can't do that while I'm choking. [Talking is still a pain, his throat aches with it, but it's worth it for the effect it's having. And he really wants Psii to let go of this throat. For one thing, it's restrictive, and he hates restrictions. For another, it's starting to get to him. But mostly it's that being choked, at least by itself, doesn't do much for him. Oh, he likes the general theme of power and demanding control, but asphyxiation in particular has always felt a little too inconvenient a way to indulge that. He'd actually prefer something rougher in exchange for more freedom...or for Psii to take things further than just this. But if that's not happening, then he wants his throat freed before he finds himself hoarse for days.]

------

[The good news, for Schuldig: there's not even a flicker of a thought right now on hitting him where it really hurts. All the focus is on his claws pressing into skin, on the jolts of feeling fogging up his mind and going down his spine. 'Distracted' is a good word for it all.]

[The bad news: even as he can tell that Psii has no interest in ruining his chance to contribute to a new generation of douchebags, he can likely sense that burst of stubbornness that comes at his words, that utter contrariness. Oh, he doesn't like that, does he? Bulgesmoking trashpanned piece of garbage.]

[There's more than a little spite as he drags his claws down Schuldig's throat again, not enough to break skin but enough to certainly leave a mark. The hand drops down to dig into his hip instead, but the psionics don't leave. Oh no. Instead, they tighten- and they push as well, forcing the telepath's head back and exposing all of his throat. Moving against the fingers on his horn makes him shudder and ache, but he does it just for the opportunity of dragging his tongue up the asshole's neck with both ends kept together as he catches blood between the two of them. When he reaches the end of the line, his fangs press up against his jaw. The resulting growl rattles out from his own throat and against Schuldig's skin.]

Then out.

------

[Oh.

Now Schuldig's mind is starting to fog a bit from pleasure; the bite of those claws is painful, but in exactly the sort of way he likes. And he shouldn't like the way Psii forces his head back, makes him expose his throat like some kind of submissive animal - but Schuldig's never given a damn about what he should or shouldn't do, and it sends electricity all the way down his spine. And then the rasp of that tongue against the scratched skin of his neck...

The best part is that he can tell that's no human tongue. Or is the best part the fangs? There's so many things he likes about this scenario that it's hard to even catalogue them all.

His hand leaves the gun in his pocket; shooting Psii right now is the furthest thing from his mind. He uses it to grab a fistful of skirt and yank Psii's lower body closer to him, grinding against the troll's knee between his legs even more demandingly.]

{You're not giving me much incentive to leave, are you...?}

------

[Practically joined at the hips now, and the rough feel of Schuldig practically humping his leg is enough alone to get him worked up. It's the feeling of control, even that he knows it's a pretty bullshit imitation of it with the presence in his mind. Still, still, that head tilted back so that he doesn't have to see that arrogant smirk, just the exposure of his weakest part of himself, and the grind against him... It's enough of an illusion to make his body shudder in harsh desire, and he digs his fangs down into the skin of the man's jaw.]

Fuck you... God, fuck you, thcumbag. [His growl never lets up, leaving his voice harsh.] Fucking... know what you're doing.

[But he still can't get himself to stop, impatient claws tugging and tearing at his undershirt until it can get to skin for them to dig into.]

------

{I know you do.} [Schuldig laughs, low in his throat.] And you like it.

[Is he consciously mixing spoken and telepathic speech now, or is he no longer even processing the difference? It's an academic question. Is he even in Psii's mind anymore, spurring his arousal along, or did he leave some minutes ago to let their shared momentum carry them along without assistance? How does one tell?

Even if Psii starts wondering these things, Schuldig won't give him much time to contemplate the questions. He tugs at Psii's horn - not overly gently - and uses it as leverage, jerking the troll's head away from his neck and up just enough so the telepath can drag his tongue along the curve of the horn he's still holding. Maybe he wouldn't have to jerk you around so much to get you into position if he could move his head to meet you halfway, Psii.]

------

[Fucking telepaths and their bullshit. ]

[Just the questions, the thoughts themselves, are enough to make the hatred coiling in his stomach pulse all the harder, and he outright snarls at Schuldig as he's pulled off despite his claws trembling against his skin. The sensation of a tongue against his horn is a new one- not intense like the pressure of those fingers, softer, still noticeable enough in his aroused state that he grinds his knee further up against the asshole's cock.]

[Scumbag. Bastard. Piece of no good maggot infested shit, but dammit, dammit, he's aching to make him relent even as obvious as it is that he's too high on his own arrogance to give a fuck about anything else. The frustration of it has his claws dig into Schuldig's hip, aim to make him bleed. That's not all. Oh no. Psi sparks out from his fingertips, sharp and electric, teasing at the wounds and burning along his skin just enough to make a point.]

------

Fuck - [Schuldig's gasp of mingled surprise, pleasure, and pain is probably the most satisfying thing Psii will have ever heard. At least for tonight, and definitely as far as anything out of Schuldig's mouth goes.

His retaliation is to bite that horn near his lips - not hard, because he'd probably do more damage to his teeth, but sharply enough to be felt. And, more pointedly, he scrapes his teeth along the the curve of it as though to shave off the outer layer.

Of course they're far too tough a material for that, but he trusts the sensation will be interesting. He's not so sure about pleasant, but then pleasant and interesting aren't synonymous by any stretch.

His hand releases that fistful of Psii's skirt, instead moving to rub between the troll's legs through the material. He's getting enough scattered information from Psii's mind to know that there's a definite source of arousal there, even if he doesn't know precisely what he'll find...but it'd have to be something poisonous and barbed to really make him reconsider.]

------

[Oh, so satisfying. So much better than all the bullshit that's been pouring out of his mouth all night too, and Psii's lips curl in satisfaction. The growl that's been rumbling in his throat levels out to a purr, and then that becomes a small trill in short order- more melodic and insect-like than anything else. He lets his claws slip free, kneading at the skin he's pierced while more mocking jolts of psi continue to go along it.]

[They give another jerk into flesh at the scrape of teeth on his horn and Psii hisses sharply. The sensation really isn't pleasant, a grating feeling that drags down from his hornbeds to his spine, and his head gives a jerk even as his free hand goes up to tug at the collar of Schuldig's shirt loose.]

Dirty fetithtic fucker- nngh-

[Another moan, this one edged with a chirring. After all, he can't deny the pleasure of feeling something up against his nook and sheathe, genetic material already starting to soak through his underwear. His hips rock into that hand as he pants, desperate for more stimulation. That makes it hard to get Schuldig's shirt out of the way, but, then... that's why he cheats, psionics roughly tugging the clothing out of the way until he can press forward to bite down along his throat, the threat of his fangs more important than actually piercing skin ever could be as he gives a hard suck.]

------

{You're one to talk, choking me and bleeding me...} [Psii is certainly inflicting more pain and less pleasure on Schuldig than vice versa, and Schuldig may register a complaint in the fullness of time. He likes pain, but he likes a balance of it with pleasure, and currently all Psii's provided for him in terms of the latter is a leg to hump. That doesn't even require effort on the troll's part.

In the meantime, curiosity has seized him. He can tell by groping that troll anatomy is distinctly different down there, he keeps getting fragmented bits of thoughts about it, but he still doesn't have a clear picture. The easiest way to solve this mystery is to simply get a look for himself.

However, getting Psii's skirt out of the way is going to be hard. It's long and loose enough that it'd require Schuldig to haul up handfuls of the material to get to the bottom hem, made harder by the way they're pressed together - and frankly, Schuldig doesn't feel like dealing with that hassle. He could just rip the damn thing, but that's hassle too...and, more importantly, it might tip the current delicate balance of anger and desire between himself and Psii more towards anger. Not worth it for a piece of fabric.

Fortunately, he has options.

He pulls his hand back from between Psii's legs, and for a moment he more or less stops; this is precision work done by proxy, and it takes him some concentration. But Psii's mind is wide open with forgetfulness and arousal, and Schuldig's been wanting to see if he could tap into those psionics secondhand, and...

...and the front of the skirt lifts itself up and off to one side, giving Schuldig's hand easy access before he drops that hold. He's immensely pleased with himself - not for the current display of power, which was nothing much, but with the proof of concept he now has. The possibilities are as delightful as they are endless.

Through the underwear - sopping yellow, he noted, and it's a good thing he is a telepath or there are unfortunate assumptions that could be made - it's much easier for him to get a feel for what's beneath. It takes him roughly two seconds to find Psii's nook and begin rubbing his thumb roughly against it through the fabric; no hesitation at the alien anatomy whatsoever.

Well, truthfully, it doesn't feel that alien to him at all. He's been with enough women to find this familiar territory.]

------

[With the telepath nestled in his mind like he is, Psii doesn't bother opening his mouth to say anything. Instead, he just lets him get a firsthand experience of all that smugness, more a feeling than a concrete thought that it's not his fault Schuldig is a weaker race that can't handle a little pain.]

[And anyway... His fangs are a bit preoccupied marking up the asshole's throat and he's having too much fun with it to want to pull back and say anything. He can't reach in and mentally fuck over a person, no, but at the very least he can leave a little mark of his own, right? Or two, or three, or...]

[So absorbed in his task and the sparks of arousal in his stomach, it's only because of how intimately connected to his psionics that he realizes that they're going off without his say so. It's easy to tell what the hell is going on, especially with those fingers so much closer than they had been before.]

[It feels good, of course, the material thicker than any other fluid that could leave him, but still. Still. Incredulous and sooooo very judging, he pulls his head back and even allows Schuldig's head to come back to a more comfortable reason for the sole purpose of letting see how much he's judging the douchebag.]

Really? [His voice is breathless and still tinged with those quiet chirrs as he's touched, but he manages the incredulity still.] Really?

You are the lazietht motherfucker I've ever met.

------

{I never said I didn't LIKE it.} [Schuldig's telepathic voice is thick with laughter. He was just pointing out the hypocrisy, not complaining.

When Psii lets him lower his head - a genuine pleasure, as his neck was starting to ache in a way that had nothing to do with sexually charged pain and everything to do with dull discomfort - he simply gives the troll an incredibly amused look. Maybe it's just the absurdity of the moment, or the mundanity of Psii's objection. But whatever it is, the shit-eating grin Schuldig's wearing is perhaps the most innocent expression Psii's seen him wear yet.

Maybe it's just because, for once, Schuldig is laughing at himself.]

You have no idea. [Even with his head lowered and some of the pressure relieved, his voice has become something of a painful rasp.]

------

Goddamn ridiculouth-

[His thoughts become the equivalent of angry static, annoyed curses and aggravated insults all buzzing together rapidly to make something that isn't much of anything at all as he jerks his claws down with a growl.]

Doethn't take fucking five theconds to move a thkirt out of the way, I have to deal with thit-riddled buttonth but look at that, even dealing with a belt, motherfucker, it'sh like I'm not fucking inept at bathic life functionth... I ever wear pantsh, you'd probably jutht roll over and go to thleep, wortht fucking lay of my life...

[His muttering matches his thoughts as his claws tear and fumble at Schuldig's clothes, pricking a bit through the cloth as he pulls open buttons and jerks at his belt. It's annoying and frustrating, or maybe that's just how the fuckhead is making him feel, and he takes it out on the other by suddenly jerking his head forward and closing fangs on his lower lip. Down below, his hands finally accomplish enough to jerk down to feel that more solid heat he knows is down there.]

Athole.

------

{Oh, so we'll be doing this again while you're wearing something else?} [Leave it to Schuldig to zero in on the accidental implication that will no doubt piss Psii off the most to have let slip. If Psii was smug before, Schuldig's mental tone is downright insufferable now.

It's easy enough to move his hand slightly, working it inside Psii's sodden underwear. He's even wetter beneath the fabric, far wetter than any woman Schuldig's ever been with.] {Whatever filthy lies your mouth tells, this tells some even filthier truths...} [And he punctuates this by thrusting two fingers into Psii, quick enough to be unexpected but a little too slow and shallow to be truly satisfying. The sadism in this has nothing to do with causing physical pain, and everything to do with reducing Psii to a complete mess and letting him stew in the knowledge that someone he despises did it to him.] {You're dripping for me.}

[It's just as well he's talking almost solely through telepathy now, with those fangs digging into his lip. His low groan is vocal, however - and only partially caused by the hand wrapping around his length. He's also vicariously privy to the sensations he's giving Psii - and if getting to experience both sides of sexual pleasure is wrong, then Schuldig has never once in his life wanted to be right.]

------

If, bulgerot, I fucking thaid, if, don't get cocky-

[Except he didn't say that at all, and they both fucking know it. With one last growl-] Do you never fucking thut up- [He presses his mouth greedily and demanding against Schuldig's own, tongue shoving past teeth impatiently. It's a hungry kiss, wanting to take everything the human can give him and then some.]

[The side effect is that when those fingers shove in, his entire body gives a jolt and even leans against Schuldig for a second as the pure painful need for more makes it hard to stand. It's not a moan but a high trilling noise that sounds against the telepath's mouth, almost musical in how alien it is, and his nook squeezes down hard on the intrusion pressing inside of it like it can drag them further in. Deep inside the pit of his stomach, pleasure bursts thorugh him his bulges give a longing pulse and squeeze on one another, the act of their sliding in their sheathe just working to get him all the more horribly aroused.]

[With all that, it's hard to pull his face back, face flushed brilliant yellow and his lips wet as he pants.]

Fuck you- fuck you, the bullthit never quitsh pouring from your mouth...

[He needs to get back at him, needs to make him fall apart just as much as he is right now, so Psii gives a low growl and tilts his head down a bit to glare down at what he's been fondling and jerking at-]

[Schuldig is probably one of the few people who knows what exactly it sounds like when a brain stutters and stops for a brief moment.]

The fuck am I looking at.

------

[It's so completely perfect that Schuldig can't help laughing. It's the kind of moment he wishes he could frame.

There's no shame or self-consciousness; Schuldig has never possessed those, not since he became Schuldig. And nothing before that matters.]

{My dick. You've got a different setup, don't you?} [More smugness. One of them has definitely adapted faster to the other's anatomy.] {You know, in humans, only women have these?} [This is punctuated by another thrust of his fingers into Psii.] {And this is what men put inside them.}

[Simply for his own convenience, and to speed things along, Schuldig will broadcast some scattered images and knowledge of human sexual organs straight into Psii's pan. It's not comprehensive, but it should be enough for him to compare and contrast between how trolls do things.

How lucky for him that Schuldig doesn't go as far as how actual reproduction works.]

------

What kind of dumb fuck biological thet up ith-

[But then those fingers give a thrust, those thoughts press into his mind, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a low groan. Still, honestly... Schuldig hardly needs to push him along.]

[Oh, he's still startled by this alien biology, of course. Yet he's a curious troll by nature. Even as he opens his eyes to glare venom at Schuldig through faintly glowing slits, there's a part of his mind that's wondering even without the knowledge he's being forced to have.]

[His fingers already have the knowledge of how it feels, warm and firm, but what about the taste, what would that be like with his tongue stroking along it or his throat welcoming it in- how would it feel in his nook, more blunt and stiff than any bulge he's taken in, could he fuck himself on it nice and slow until he'd know ever curve and bump of it, would the unfamiliar shape make him ache- ]

[They're thoughts he can't quite hide, and once he realizes he's actively thinking them, they got walled off behind the best techniques he can manage in his state even as his focus goes back to glaring at Schuldig with his fangs bared.]

You know what... [He starts to stroke along the erect cock, squeezing at the top where head and shaft connect.] You're a fucking thcumbag of the highetht order.

------

{I'm already fucking you with my fingers, you can lay off the flirting.} [He flashes Psii a smirk made more breathless and unhinged by his own pleasure. Schuldig's actually got incredible levels of control over himself, as any telepath of his caliber must - even if he doesn't choose to exercise much of it. But in sex, he loses even some of that.

Their minds are still closely linked, even if Psii has (too late) shut Schuldig off from some of his more compromising thoughts. So Psii will feel that slow unravel, more intimate than anything physical - Schuldig's telepathic control unspooling, letting flickers of thought and sensation bleed across the connection. It's disorienting and delicious at the same time, essentially layering Schuldig's pleasure over Psii's own.

Or maybe it's not unintentional at all. Certainly it's giving Psii very convenient first-hand knowledge of what feels good when giving a human a handjob. At least what feels good to Schuldig specifically.]

------

[It's horrible. It's amazing. Psii hates him so much he almost doesn't know what to do, torn between wanting to see his blood spill and aching to fuck him into next week.]

[The pleasure amplified times two is absolutely dizzying; it's so tempting to close his eyes and focus on the pleasure alone as his hips grind down against those fingers. His own hands- god, fuck, his hand stroking along that cock and the sensation of receiving being pressed into his mind as well. His fingers spark with psi, not for pain or to burn or aggravate, but just simple warmth to wash deliciously along with his movements and he groans.]

[As if he can mimic the intimacy of their minds in the physical, his body presses all the closer against Schuldig's in aching desire. Fighting against his own wants, Psii keeps his eyes open. Something about that bastard's smirk- wild and arrogant and frustrating even as much as it's a sign that he's falling apart to these feelings too- it gets him going more than anything.]

[And it's one of the few ways he can think to keep himself from falling too hard into this goddamn link.]

Everything'th a fucking flirt to you. [His voice is hoarse with desire even as he growls against Schuldig's mouth.] Thould tear you apart...

[But not now- goddamn not now, and his eyes finally do have to squeeze shut as he gives a low chirruping kind of moan that draws out. Finally, finally, his bulges are starting to slide out. It's not neat and simple like any other troll's. No, they squirm and twist and squeeze against one another in his sheathe. It's a relief all its own when they finally make it out, a gasp in his throat as they push forward from the sheathe and slide against Schuldig's wrist.]

------

[Psii will even be able to feel that flicker in Schuldig's mind, the mixture of fascination and smugness at the sounds Psii is making. They've got no meaning to Schuldig, but they're clearly sexual in nature and the circumstances make them sexy to him. And, of course, the fact that he's causing Psii to make them is just another level of satisfaction. He wants to hear more of them, and he crooks his fingers within Psii's nook to try and do just that -

- and something grabs his wrist.

Now it's Psii's turn to feel the sudden swerve of Schuldig's thoughts, the way they abruptly come back into focus and center on the wet, warm things against his skin as he looks down.

...that is a damn tentacle. No, it's actually two goddamn tentacles.

The absurdity of it actually surprises a barked laugh out of Schuldig, and even though his throat still aches he makes the effort to speak.] Maybe you should have given me an anatomy lesson of your own. [He's not actually turned off so much as the ludicrousness of it has derailed the mood somewhat, as he bemusedly watches the bright yellow tendrils curl around his wrist.

Your turn to explain, Psii.]

-----

[Seriously? Yet at the same time as he's frustrated that he's not getting anymore movement in his nook, he can't help but give a snigger at the reaction.]

What? I thought you told me that human women had thethe. [Oh, he's aware that Schuldig meant the nook and nothing else, but still. He leans in, nipping at the other's jawline.] And I know you're piggybacking my pan, athole. You had to feel them getting all needy...

[Still, while he's not actively making any effort to pass on any thoughts, there's still some passing knowledge that Schuldig can easily pick up on. There's a reason Psii thought it was so dumb to make a distinction between men and women based on their genitals, and this is it- there's no such thing between trolls. No matter the pairing, they're still able to fuck just the same as any other coupling... And that's all that's needed.]

[Another nip, a little sharper this time, against Schuldig's ear. Stubborn and spiteful as he is, Psii's stopped his own stroking against his cock.]

If you're not going to do anything, douthebag, then I can go back to my block and fuck mythelf and not let you watch, it'd do me a damn better than what you're not doing.

-----

{What I felt and what your thoughts gave me comprehensive knowledge of isn't the same thing. You were thinking in sensations, not biology.} [Does he sound the faintest touch grumpy...? Perhaps. Schuldig's telepathy gives him an amazing leg up in most things, but it does have its limits. Schuldig can be caught off-guard. Being mocked for not being completely omniscient tends to make him huffy, which will doubtless please Psii to no end.]

{And I should make you fuck yourself right here while I watch.} [He flashes Psii another wild grin.] {While I taste how it feels. But instead, how about I give you exactly what you want...?}

[He slides his fingers out of Psii, disentangling the bulges from around his wrist even as he gives the troll's mind a slight telepathic nudge. It doesn't take much to make Psii's hips buck forward, and with Schuldig's hands moving to the troll's hips to guide the movement, a slight adjustment of position on his own part -

Well, Psii will find himself fucking his nook on Schuldig's dick even sooner than he might have planned it.

The low, breathless noise Schuldig makes at this is accompanied by a flood of telepathic sensation; even if some bleed weren't inevitable when a telepath's control wavers, it's one of his favorite applications of his powers. If he can amplify his pleasure by creating and feeling echoes of it within his partner, why wouldn't he? But even if it weren't habit, wasn't to a degree unavoidable...he'd make sure Psii could feel him sinking in from both perspectives.]

Is this how it feels when you do it? [His voice is rough already, but these words are actively growled.] {Except I bet an alien slut like you needs a little more than that...} [And the hand still soaked in genetic material - which he's smeared on your skirt as well, Psii, as if you weren't already getting it everywhere - moves to stroke along those bulges, letting them tangle around and slide between his fingers.

And he sinks into the sensations. His, Psii's - there's not much appreciable difference between the two in his mind anymore. It's easy to let them overwhelm everything else for awhile, to drown in them.]

------

[Oh, that is just precious. So there is something that throws the grub gargling dirtbag off his high horse and it's being reminded that he has limits. Psii makes sure to break out his most grating snigger as he realizes it, right against Schuldig's ear.]

Oh, you wishh you could get a thow like that-

[Everything is so blurred, whatever line that was between them at the start now washed away like it was made in sand on the beach. Is it really the telepath pushing at his mind just enough for these little reactions, these nudges to get him where he needs to be, or is it all him letting himself be jerked around by his own burning desire? Both? He doesn't know, it doesn't matter, there's just the feel of them both shifting and adjusting against the wall, hands on his hips and pressure on his toes as he leans up, and his fingers spread against the wall- ]

[Oh.]

[The trill in his voice rattles up through his throat like its on rapid wings, and his claws dig into the wood of the wall on a spasm. It's exactly how he thought it would be, the stiff unyielding form of it foreign when he's only experienced more twisting, coiling shapes, just forcing itself inside and the ache- his muscles ache and clutch to it and fuck, fuck. He almost wants to fall apart, pleasure electrifying as it jolts all throughout his body, and he can't remember moving his other hand to dig his claws into Schuldig's back through his suit but they're there.]

[Because he can feel himself, feel himself in a way that's so entirely different than riding on his own bulges. He hadn't noticed the difference in temperature but it's impossible to ignore now as he feels Schuldig- him- both of them grinding up into his own nook and fuck he's so hot, hot and wet, inner walls sucking them in and clinging so hard, fuck, yes, yes, yes- ]

[There's a pinprick of pain at his spine- no, not his Schuldig's, his claws have finally pierced through the thick cloth of his clothes and managed to hit skin- and he draws a ragged breath into himself.]

You- forced a fuck- in the middle of the hallway, and you're calling me the thlut? [He sucks on his lower lip again, noises escaping himself as he feels those fingers press down against his bulges. Focus, fucking focus-] If- thaying that helpth you feel leth inadequate thince a proper fuck would knock your- half athed effort out- then go ahead.

[Except it's all bravado, even as he's surging forward to capture Schuldig's mouth in his own. There's one more thing, but he doesn't say it, just thinks it as loud as he can with his claws in the wall and his mind shook apart with pleasure: ]

[Fuck me harder if you think you can.]

------

{Forced it? You're the worst liar there ever was.} [With their thoughts blending together on this level, Psii's defenses too scattered to keep Schuldig out and Schuldig so immersed that his own mind is almost as clear to Psii's as others' usually are to Schuldig, it's hard to tell what Schuldig is speaking and what he's merely thinking. The only clues are that the redhead's spoken voice is ragged from his aching throat and broken with the occasional groan or gasp for air, while his thoughts are hazy but usually uninterrupted.

Well, that and Psii's devouring his mouth. That kind of narrows down which it could be, too...but honestly, the beautiful tangled confusion of their minds right now makes any kind of critical thinking hard. To say nothing of blurring who is doing what to who where.]

{And I'm the best lay you've ever had.} [This may not be literally true; Schuldig hasn't probed Psii's sexual history. But he's willing to bet that no one has ever been able to give Psii this kind of experience before, and he's never been fucked by a human before either...so Schuldig feels absolutely confident in ranking himself well up there, whatever the troll says.

And he's not finished yet.

Psii is tight around him, almost painfully so, and that nook grips Schuldig, works him in ways that he doesn't think any woman could. Between that and the way their thoughts are blending together, it's a wonder he can focus at all...but then he has more practice than Psii does. He has training, although he only wishes his training had been anything like this.

So he's able to shove forward - which thrusts him deeper as an added bonus - and pivot them, shoving Psii hard against the wall instead. It's not about control for him; he doesn't really care which of them is running the show right now, and with their thoughts and pleasure so interwoven there's no discernible difference. All it does is give him something solid to fuck Psii against.

He can feel the heat, the slide, the ache. Taking and being taken. Hate and delight, laughter and pain. He can't lose himself like this at any other time, because then he might not be able to find himself again; telepathy can be like following will o' wisps into dark woods. But in sex he burns so brightly that there's no chance of straying far enough to get lost - his own body keeps him focused right where he needs to be, no matter how completely he lets himself go.]

{I'd make you beg me if I didn't know how bad you want me already.}

-----

[It's near impossible to get his thoughts together, fractured and scattered and consumed by pleasure as they are, but he manages to get the idea of a fuck you across. Schuldig only wishes he were his best. Unfortunately, it's hard to remember all those other times- there's so much, too much in this moment that his mind can't get a chance to wander.]

[Fuck- even if it could, it'd be jerked back down to earth as they twist, back hitting the wall and arching and he's in so deep and taking so much and yes. That sense of duality only increases his arousal against all odds- something he's always been able to enjoy in sex before because of his unique mutation but never like this, it's true. ]

[And of course... Just like Schuldig wants, it's burning all the harder that he's getting this pleasure from him- an alien, a sadist, a bastard with the kind of power set Psii hates most. It consumes him almost as much as the pleasure does. Every thrust that has his hips jerk, every noise they seem to make in unison, the hands gripping his hips, the claws that dig into his hair and back- they make the hate swell.]

[And when Schuldig speaks those words, it's like drowning in that pitch black emotion.]

[A low snarl goes off against his mouth when he pulls back for air and- it takes so much effort to concentrate right now but he fucking can and will- his fingers burn with psi, claws burning as much as piercing and yeah... It's now his jacket that can be added to the list of clothing ruined to this little encounter, but at least it's not being stained yellow from the liquid dripping down his thighs and sinking into Schuldig's pants.]

------

[There's no coherent response from Schuldig; he's not stringing together thoughts properly anymore. There's only flickers, fragments, feelings rather than words. Even thinking about talking is no longer worth the effort; it's so goddamn rare to be able to forget his mind and just focus on what his body is doing. He's not going to waste it.

But Psii will be able to detect both the laughter and, more interestingly, disappointment at that 'fuck you' - because Schuldig wishes that was an option, one not prevented by their current angle and Psii's anatomical arrangement. Has Schuldig picked up that trolls often mutually give and receive, or is he just naturally perverse enough to have considered - and wish for - as much debauchery as possible? It's almost impossible to piece together at the moment.

He feels those claws and that heat against his back - or a back; at this point whose body is experiencing what is academic at best, every sensation seems to belong to him - and it's the most natural thing in the world to move away from it, to press himself harder against and deeper in, as if he needed any encouragement. His (?) hand is working his (?) bulges, curled and sliding up and down the length of one while the other lashes against his (?) wrist. Tongues slide together, tasting blood from lips cut on fangs, and he doesn't know or care which of these things belong to him.

Inevitably, their thoughts begin moving toward a single conclusion. Wanting, needing, begging for release. It's a prayer, a command, and a prediction all in one, something Schuldig is demanding with his body now rather than with his mind.]

-----

[It really doesn't matter, not when there's so much pleasure, so much hatred, it's finer than any sort of drink the Maeve could have offered. Forget impossibly sweet wine- this is bliss. The overwhelming sensations binding both of them together, lips and thrusts and heat dragging them down into an abyss of gratification. Suffocating in the best way, so much that he can't even take too much pleasure in the disappointment his partner feels at their limits. ]

[Was there- concern at one point, so out in the open, right in a hallway, but no, no, it doesn't matter right now. The feel of those claws digging into his back, their kiss messy and demanding, all that and more is what matters now.]

[It's coming- from who is impossible to tell, but there's that heat burning and clenching between them, one last warning of that long intense drop awaiting, and he wants- needs it. He presses in, pulls closer, everything is a blur but even with their minds a tangle mess at least their bodies seem to know what to do. He can feel them at work, how hard he presses inside, how much there is to take, and the blood is so sharply sweet on their tongues.]

[And- there- the heat bursting within, a fire overtaking every vein in pleasure, rocking right down to the core, a release more delicious than anything as they- he?- quiver as it goes through right to the fingertips, nook squeezing down like a vice for want of something to fill it up as it loses a flood that burns out against his- their- thighs and are they coming in tandem or is that just their voices or is that just all in his mind?]

[Doesn't matter.]

[All that matters is that scorched out hollow feeling, whether truly his or not, that leaves him exhausted and satisfied.]

-----

[There's never any question of them not coming together. It doesn't matter which of them started first, if it could even be determined at this point; the chain reaction started instantly, both of them being dragged over the edge together. Their ears are ringing from sounds they've made, but what sounds were those? What was it that was audible and what was kept locked inside their minds? It's impossible to say, and pointless to speculate about.

Schuldig is allowed a few moments to soak in the absolute breathless perfection of it before their quiet allows the noise of other thoughts to begin to register again. Not only does that signal that break time is over, it reminds him which of their minds is his - only he's able to hear them.

With how intimately their minds have been entangled this whole time, Psii will feel Schuldig's re-establishing the boundaries between their thoughts as an almost physical sensation, a dividing of one indistinct being into two halves. It might almost feel like a loss.

And it's not until Schuldig's fully settled within his own head again, can tell exactly where he stops and Psii starts, that he starts sizing up the physical situation. He can feel his jacket hanging ragged on him(and smell the scorching), some faint wetness at the small of his back - blood from Psii's claws, or sweat? He'd need to look to be sure. That alien anatomy still hot around him, although no longer gripping him like a vice.

And what feels like an entire bucket of paint cooling on his hand and thighs.

He pushes away from Psii just enough to look down at himself - and if it feels like a bucket of paint, it looks even more so - and arches a wordless eyebrow. So much for this suit...]

------

[It really does feel like a loss, stranger than anything he's ever felt, but Psii takes it in stride. Just have to treat it like any other separation after a round of sex, when bulges were untangling and pulling out from full nooks- ]

[Actually, now that he thinks about it- ]

[He and Schuldig seem to have the same train of thought even if they're no longer so intimately connected on that mental level, because he's pushing him away at much the same time so that he can hook up his skirt to get a better look down at his own genitals.]

What the thit, did you even come at all?

[Psionics hook around one of his own leg to hold it up and, yeah, he will prop it up against Schuldig if he stays still long enough as his own fingers probe curiously at his nook. His bulges are still slowly retracting back into his sheathe, slick with some genetic material themselves but certainly not to the same extent as what poured out from his nook, and he huffs as he nudges them out of the way to get a better look.]

Wait-

[And there's a bark of laughter.]

Holy fuck, theriously? You only came that much?

[The single bark becomes something more, a bunch of sniggering and barely held in cackles as Psii shoves his skirt back down.]

------

[Schuldig snorts at this, eyes flicking up to Psii in amusement.] And you come like an industrial oil spill. I take it trolls aren't particularly potent, if you need this much... [His voice is still slightly hoarse, but the hold around his neck has finally been released, so at least it's not getting any worse.] Your species considers this efficient? Do you just get a new bed every time you fuck, or do you put tarps down first?

[He smirks, leaning in close again.] Don't worry. If you really want more evidence left behind that I've claimed you... [And he lifts his hand, smearing yellow across Psii's lips before leaning in and roughly kissing it off. He tastes blood(which he now knows for sure is his), and something completely foreign and undefinable, and Psii's mouth, and it's almost as perfect as a few moments ago.

Then he breaks the kiss again, smirking once more as he pushes Psii back with a hand that leaves yellow fingerprints on the troll's shirt.] ...next time I'll come on your face.

[It occurs to him, idly and belatedly, to wonder if the genetic fluid of trolls is safe for human ingestion. His inner response is a shrug.]

------

Pleathe, if you need to know-

[But he apparently doesn't, not with those wet fingers suddenly on his lips, smearing genetic material and making something churn his stomach that could be revulsion or what's little left in him fluttering in arousal. The feeling only intensifies when he feels that mouth on him and the idea of what he's doing, mixing blood and cum together in a twisted little kiss- Psii growls against his mouth and his eyes are glowing faintly as Schuldig pushes away.]

Not if I drown you with my fucking nook firtht.

[Psi flares up against Schuldig's back in retaliation, agitating any spots it finds there- and meant to keep him there because there's one more thing.]

Do you alwayth fuck and run like a little thlut without giving your name?

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That's probably the most credible threat you've made tonight, Psiioniic. [Schuldig laughs outright, gaze locked on Psii's as though he's trying to memorize him from the inside out. It's so intent as to almost be intimidating. And that emphasis on Psii's name is clearly just a little dig that he's taken what he wants without having to wait for it to be given freely.

Once the laugh subsides, there's nothing left but the curve of his lips and the intense blue burn of his eyes.] I'm like you; I don't have a name, just a word for what I am. [His hand drops to Psii's skirt, casually wiping his hand off on it.] It's Schuldig.

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[The knowledge of his name was something he was expecting. It doesn't mean he likes it when the telepath just flaunts it like that, and he feels his own psionics hum beneath his skin just eager to wipe that look off the bastard's face.]

[Maybe that eagerness is why it's so hard to feel any proper fear.]

Thchuldig. [His hand snaps out to grab the offending wrist, the claw on his thumb tracing up along his veins.] Doeth that mean 'fucking piece of garbage' in human?

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[Schuldig doesn't seem to feel any, either, simply smirking when Psii's claw traces along the vulnerable flesh of his wrist.] Humans have a lot of languages. But it means 'guilty' in mine. [His voice is a purr.]

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Funny. Conthidering the kind of thit you like to pull, I can't imagine you feeling a lot of guilt.

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Feeling guilty and being guilty aren't the same thing. [He laughs, pulling away.] Now were you going to let me go, or do you really want me to stay that badly...?

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[There's an immediate growl, shoving the man away and shaking his hand like he'd touched something dirty.]

Pleathe. A good fuck can't change your pithpoor perthonality. I'd rather break my own legth than thtay around you.

Jutht wipe your handth on your own fucked up clothes. It'sh not like they're thalvageable anyway.

[Not that he regrets that.]

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True...not like I care. This suit wasn't really my style. [He grins. And then, partially out of laziness but much more because he expects it to piss Psii off, he taps into the troll's mind again, borrowing those psionics to tug his pants up and loosely fasten them. Honestly, with how sodden with Psii's fluid they are, the less he touches them the better. If he wouldn't have to take off his shoes for it, he'd just leave the pants here; either way a complete change of wardrobe is definitely in order.

...admittedly, part of his decision to borrow Psii's powers was also to test just what he could do with those psionics with only second-hand control. It seems as though he can make surprisingly deft use of them...when Psii's mind is completely unguarded, at least.]

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[He feels it quicker, this time, his psi going off when there's no thought of his to direct it, and the response is immediate. The lazy fuck- he's lunging forward with a punch right to that goddamn smug face.]

[Of course he uses his psionics for some of the same things, sometimes, but there's different context there. And, more importantly, they're his choice.]

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[If Schuldig weren't already in Psii's mind, this probably would have worked. Or if Schuldig's legs were still tangled in his pants; it's lucky for him that he's in optimal position to deal with this.

What Psii perceives will be Schuldig seemingly disappearing in front of his fist, appearing again a step to the side. This is just Schuldig interfering with the signals between Psii's eyes and his thinkpan, however; all that actually happened was Schuldig sidestepping, almost before the punch was fully launched.

The visual effects weren't strictly necessary, so much as Schuldig likes being flashy and disorienting his opponents. And it gives him a moment to reach out and grab a fistful of Psii's hair, jerking his head back a little as Schuldig leans in to purr against his ear.] Better luck next round.

[And then he's stepping back, out of easy range - although he supposes psionics could still be employed. But he's laughing, because he doesn't think they will be. Through a combination of skill, luck, and convenient coincidence, he's had the upper hand throughout this entire exchange. Nothing so perfect can stay, but he'll enjoy it for everything it's worth while it lasts.] I'll see you later.

[The first order of business is a change of clothes. Schuldig may not have shame, but cold, drenched clothes aren't enjoyable for anyone.]