Right Kind of Wrong
Ken let the smile drop from his face as he turned from waving goodbye to Omi, slowly making his way to trudge up the stairs.

He didn't particularly want to think right now, just aiming blindly for his room. Not thinking was good, it meant he didn't dwell on certain things. . . . Things that for his continued sanity he shouldn't be dwelling on.

He shut the door behind him, then turned to press his back against the wood. His palms flattened out on the surface, head tilting back so he stared at the ceiling. But even the ceiling was too much stimulation, and he shut his eyes, just standing there for several long moments.

Eventually, he moved. Showers were always good for not thinking, he remembered, and began stripping out of his jeans and t-shirt, idly dropping them where he stood. Showers, if you let them, could be just about feeling and nothing else. The sound blocked out all else, the water washed away whatever taint was on your skin, the feeling of the droplets hitting it soothing. And he'd had more of an opportunity to relish it recently, ever since Omi had finally given in to years of nagging and fights over the single bathroom and allowed them to install an - albeit small - shower and toilet as part of their own room.

There was barely enough room to move around in, Ken noted remotely. The shower took up most of the space, but it was worth it.

He took the shower head down with one hand, turning the water on with the other, and began testing the spray, gradually getting it to the temperature he wanted. Hooking it back in the slot, he tilted his head up into the spray, letting the warm water flow over his skin.

Sighing, he picked up the soap and worked it into a lather between his hands before putting it down and sliding his soapy hands along his skin.

Showers were good for not thinking, Ken decided. If you wanted, you could just feel. . . .

The feeling of his hands sliding over his skin was sensual, in its own way both soothing and stimulating. The water hit his skin lightly, forming droplets and sliding down his body. Steam filled the enclosed space, thick and hot, and Ken found his hands slowly wandering towards his groin, gently massaging the flesh until he brought himself to hardness.

He braced one hand against the wall, the other working at his erection. The hot water seemed to pound on his skin, running through his hair and down his back as he stood, leaning over so the spray didn't fall in his eyes. The feeling of the water running down his skin combined with the sauna-like heat in the enclosed space felt incredibly sensual, and his hand began to move faster.

A pair of arms slipped around him from behind, strong body moulding itself to his back. A hand closed over his wrist, slowing his motions, the other lacing in with his fingers to cradle the back of his hand to the other's palm. Ken shut his eyes, pressing back into the firm body behind him as the other man dropped a kiss on his neck, long red hair already sticking to his skin with moisture and his erection pressing into the crack between Ken's butt cheeks.

Ken let out a low moan, torn between rocking back against the erection behind him and thrusting forward into his hand, held prisoner by Schuldig's strong fingers. The older man took the decision out of his hands, setting up a slow rocking motion between them as his hand guided Ken's along his length, and his erection rubbed between Ken's cheeks - tantalisingly close to his entrance and the pleasure they both knew could be gained from that, but seemingly miles off.

Ken threw his head back against Schuldig's shoulder, mouth open as he panted. Schuldig sucked on his neck, occasionally biting into the flesh there - possibly to stifle his own moans, which Ken let free with abandon, or possibly because he liked the taste of Ken's flesh.

Ken, stimulated by the hand on his cock and erection pressing into his butt, found himself nearing climax. His moans grew louder, and he rocked harder against the strong, lean length behind him, and then Schuldig just . . . stopped.

Gasping, Ken struggled to move, to get just that last bit of stimulation that would allow him to come, but Schuldig used the leverage he had pressed up against Ken's muscled back to shift the other man, bending him over at the waist and guiding his hands to press against the shower wall. Suddenly realising what the other man wanted, Ken stopped struggling and eagerly moved into position, growling with impatience when Schuldig moved away to pick up the soap to use as an impromptu lubricant.

Strong hands grasped his hips, and Schuldig thrust inside him in one quick, hard jab, making Ken gasp at the sudden pain of intrusion as well as the intense pleasure that came with it. The first thrust set the pace for the rest of the ride, Ken bucking back against the other man as forcefully as Schuldig thrust into him, gasps and moans and the sound of the shower spray hitting bare flesh and tiles the only thing to be heard.

Ken felt himself hurtling towards orgasm, pushed on by Schuldig's relentless thrusts. He took one hand down from the wall to pump his own erection, and fell over the edge with a cry, his come shooting out as his butt muscles clamped down on the erection inside him. He more felt than heard Schuldig's groan as the man managed a couple more quick thrusts before he exploded inside Ken.

Schuldig slid out of Ken as they collapsed to the shower floor, gasping and panting for breath. Ken was vaguely aware of Schuldig standing up and rinsing himself in the cooling shower spray, then stepping out of the stall.

[We'll be waiting for you in the next room,] the words slid into his head, but hardly made any sense.

Ken stared at the shower wall. I did it again.

Then he sighed and shook his head, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. The shower spray had gone from hot to somewhere around lukewarm, and he turned it off with a sigh. Ignoring the trickle of come that slid down his thigh - it's not that, it's water, it must be - he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. He didn't bother to pull on a robe [1], simply stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist.

Schuldig, apparently, hadn't even bothered with that. He dripped water onto the bed as he straddled Yohji's shirtless form, kissing him deeply.

Ken scowled. "Don't get my bed wet," he said, then immediately flushed from the ridiculousness of the statement. Schuldig, his mortal enemy, was stark naked on his bed kissing his best friend, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was to tell him not the get the bed wet?

[Ah, Luke, you have come so far in such a short time,] the amused voice murmured in his head [2]. Schuldig rolled off Yohji and gathered the taller man into his arms, fiddling with the button on the blond's jeans as he smirked at Ken.

For a moment, all Ken did was stand there and watch as Schuldig pulled the jeans off Yohji's long legs, fisting his erection and pumping as Yohji writhed against him much as Ken had done in the shower, panting. Schuldig's other hand was buried somewhere between his and Yohji's bodies, and Ken bet he knew what it was doing.

There was a large difference between him and Yohji, Ken mused as he dropped the towel and moved to join them on the bed. He still didn't know why he was doing this. With Yohji, it was evident in the way he said - okay, panted - Schuldig's name in the middle of sex, how he looked when he kissed the redhead, how - like now - he would arch his back and beg incoherently for more when he was with them, but they heard tales of his legendary control with women. He trusted Schuldig, of all people, enough to let go of his inhibitions. Enough to (at least in Ken's opinion) let him share a little of what had previously been devoted all to Asuka.

Despite his liaison in the shower with Schuldig, Ken felt himself grow hard again as he watched them move together, his hand wandering into his lap yet again as Schuldig urged Yohji up onto his knees, rubbing some proper lubricant (not soap) onto his erection before slowly, almost painfully slowly, thrusting up into the other man. Yohji moaned Schuldig's name, try to thrust back, trying to get him to move faster, harder, deeper. . . .

It was a dynamic Ken had watched many times, and been a part of even more. For whatever reason, Schuldig liked to retain control with them - and liked to make them lose it. He always took them from behind, and had only once allowed Ken to take him. The brunet didn't know why, nor in the heat of the moment did he particularly care.

His hand began pumping on his erection in time with Schuldig's thrusts into Yohji. They looked glorious together, sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other, Yohji's proud, hard cock standing up from a thatch of dark blond curls, jerking a little with each thrust of Schuldig's hips.

[Suck him,] Schuldig suggested, and Ken needed no more encouragement.

The height was a little awkward, straining his neck as he bent over, but he didn't care - he just wanted the hard length in his mouth, to lick it and suck it and make Yohji come. Wrapping his lips over his teeth (Schuldig liked being scraped occasionally, but Yohji didn't) he slid the head into his mouth, stabbing his tongue into the slit to be hear Yohji's moan as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

Ken stroked himself, thumb pressing over the head as he took as much of Yohji's cock into his mouth as he could and sucked. He had taken to blowjobs like a fish to water, loving the feel of something hot and hard in his mouth. He had to pull back a couple of times to stop himself choking when Yohji forgot himself and thrust into his mouth, but otherwise. . . .

Ken's hips rocked into his hand, sending sparks of pleasure through his body, making him moan around Yohji's cock. Yohji moaned as well, one more in a long string of pleasure-filled incoherent sounds that filled the bedroom. Sensing the others' climax impending as well as his own, Ken sped up his hand, thrusting his hips into the channel of his fingers and sucking hard on the tip of Yohji's erection.

Yohji yelled and convulsed between them, his come shooting into Ken's mouth. Ken swallowed eagerly, liking the slightly bitter, slightly salty taste as much as the feeling of the hard cock in his mouth. He jerked a few more times with his hand before gasping, Yohji's softening cock falling out of his mouth as he climaxed. From the way Schuldig had sprawled over Yohji's back, pushing the near boneless blond down onto the bed, Ken guessed he'd reached his own climax too.

Ken collapsed onto his side, rolling away from the wet spot. "Someone grab the covers," he muttered, then sighed and smiled slightly when he was covered with part of the light blanket. Grabbing a pillow and burying his face into it, he was out in seconds.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning he woke up alone.

Not that that was surprising. Occasionally Yohji would stay, but that was only if he didn't wake up before Ken. Schuldig was always gone by the time the brunet woke up, and as soon as Yohji dragged himself out of sleep he was gone too.

Not that it bothered Ken. Definitely not. No, it didn't bother him to be screwed like a cheap whore then left.

What bothered him was why the fuck he let them do this to him. He was having sex with his enemy and his best friend, two things that went against his own moral code. You don't fuck with your friends because you might end up losing them. You don't fuck with your enemies because you might lose your life.

Now he was doing both, and completely confused as to the why.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He knew why Yohji did it - or at least, he thought he did. Seemed like half the time he didn't know much of anything any more - who his friends were, who his enemies were, even who he was. Why his life had taken this turn and not consulted him on it. For fuck's sake, Kase should have taught him something about getting involved with lovers who were wrong for him. Yohji and the whole Asuka/Neu thing should've taught him the same!

Maybe Yohji had a reason. He sure as hell didn't.

Grunting to himself and dismissing the problem, Ken heaved himself upright and staggered into the bathroom. He didn't feel like having a proper shower, so he just wiped the dried come off this thighs and mopped up his groin, cleaning the flannel before wiping the sweat off the rest of him. Boxers, jeans and t-shirt: set. He checked the clock and decided to go downstairs and get an early start on opening the flowershop. He could strip the bed later.

By some miracle, Yohji was down there too, counting change in the register and smoking. Ken half-smiled at the sight, at the same time so common and so incongruous. Yes, he was used to seeing Yohji there, but not this early in the morning and certainly not after a night like last night.

Flushing at the memories that thought evoked, Ken blurted the first thing that came into his head to cover it up. "You'd better not let Omi or Aya catch you smoking in here."

Yohji glanced up at him, green eyes glinting over his sunglasses. "Aya can kiss my ass, and Omi's already gone," he said. "Said something about detouring to the library before school starts. There's no one here but me and you, and you're hardly going to deprive me of my morning cigarette are you?"

He drew the last words out into a sensual purr, and was rewarded with Ken suddenly going bright red and stammering out, "N-no," before hurrying over to the other side of the store. Yohji's snicker followed him, and he felt like banging his head into the wall until he could either make sense of this situation or ignore the blond altogether.

The day passed slowly, with the usual rush of giggling schoolgirls at the beginning of the day and lunchtime. They drifted through the early afternoon with scarcely a soul in sight, and Ken kept trying to ignore the little voice that was telling him now was the perfect opportunity to ask Yohji what the fuck was going on.

It's a little bloody late to be asking that, he grunted to himself, picking up one of the newly planted pots and moving it to the front of the store.

Ask anyway. Yohji probably knows, he's sharper than he looks.

Ken knew that. Yohji was no slouch in the brains department, his PI days and even his current investigation skills testament to that.

He ignored the voice for as long as he could, until finally he snapped. "Yohji," he blurted. The blond was seated in the backroom, working (badly) on an arrangement. He'd been at it for half an hour, and there were only two flowers in place.

Yohji glanced at him. "Yeah, Ken?"

Ken fidgeted, suddenly feeling very nervous. He badly wanted to know what Yohji thought of what was going on, and at the same time, he didn't. What if . . . what if he couldn't take it? What if the reason behind everything was as bad as all his worst nightmares about it, what if . . . Yohji thought they were traitors and was fine with it?

He took a deep breath, and calmed himself. "Yohji . . . what the hell is this thing with Schuldig?"

Yohji frowned at him. "You don't know?"

"Fuck, if I knew I wouldn't be asking you!" Ken exploded, throwing his arms in the air. "All I know is that one day I'm sitting on my own in the room, the next moment I get jumped by you two - a pattern which has repeated itself every time since then - and I have no goddamn clue why." He stared into the space above Yohji for a moment, then shook his head. "Dammit, Yohji, why. . . . Why."

Yohji pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Shit, Ken, I thought you got it," he said."

"Got what?"

He tucked the glasses into the top of his apron and stood up, leaning against the table so he was about on eye level with Ken. "This isn't serious," he said. "It isn't us being traitors, or Schuldig trying to use us. He's wrong for both of us, Ken, and we know it. And that's the point - we know it."

Ken frowned at him. "I don't understand you."

Yohji rolled his eyes. "Look, Kase was wrong for you, right?"

Ken went rigid. "What the fuck do you know about Kase?" he spat. That was an extremely personal part of his old life, and one he hadn't discussed with any of them. To hear Yohji talking about it like he knew - it was . . . it was . . . Ken didn't know what the fuck it was, but he didn't like it.

"Excuse me for having eyes in my head," Yohji snapped. Ken blinked at him, wondering why the other man was getting so uptight about this. Heh, maybe he didn't really know what was going on, either.

Then he sighed, and deflated. "Look, all I'm trying to do is point out the difference between Schuldig and Kase," he said. "Kase was wrong, but you didn't know that and it let him hurt you. We know Schuldig's wrong, and-"

"That still doesn't explain what the fuck is going on, Yohji," Ken interrupted.

Yohji stared at him like he'd grown two heads. "It's about sex," he said, as though that was obvious.

Well, it was. Ken rolled his eyes. "I think that's pretty damn obvious," he said wryly. "What I mean is, well, why?"

"That's what I've been trying to explain to you! Jeez, Ken-"

"No," Ken said softly. "I mean, why sex with me? Did I ask for it? Did I look like I needed it? What?"

Yohji frowned. "It's a stress reliever," he said. "Come on, Ken, you've gotta admit our job isn't exactly peaches and cream."

"I know that," he said, feeling vaguely sick. "What the fuck do you think me playing football is for? Exercise gets rid of tension for me." [3]

Yohji was staring at him in something akin to horror. "Ken - are you - please, please don't say you really didn't want this-"

Ken abruptly realised what Yohji was thinking, and scowled at him. "Moron," he said flatly, "you didn't rape me. Don't you think I would've been a bit more vocal if you had?"

Yohji seemed almost to sag with relief. Ken shook his head at the older man. "You haven't really thought about things from my point of view, have you," he said, a little sadly. He'd hoped Yohji would have had a good reason, one that Ken had just been too dense to see, but - no.

Yohji had no expression on his face at all. "I haven't, have I," he said, and it wasn't a question.

For such a sharp guy, he could be incredibly dense sometimes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night Ken lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and turning Yohji's words over and over in his mind. There was some logic to them, and he almost felt . . . touched . . . that of all of them, Yohji had picked him to say "look, here's some free stress relief". It was an offer that was more than a little ridiculous and completely unclear, but he'd been thinking about Ken at the time - he had his stress relief, after all.

But why Schuldig?

Ken contemplated this. Schuldig was looking for them to spill information about Weiss and Kritiker. Nope, made no sense - he was a telepath, he could just pluck it straight out of their heads. He wanted to make them care about him, then turn on them. Nope, made no sense - he was going about it entirely the wrong way, if that was the case.

Maybe he was just looking for stress relief, too.

Ken frowned at that thought, turning it this way and that. It made more sense that the others, but - why the heck would Schuldig pick them for stress relief? He was more than marginally attractive, he could pick up women (or men) just as easily as Yohji did, no doubt about it. So why them?

He snorted to himself and smiled wryly. Why did Yohji no longer like picking up people outside of Weiss?

Because they didn't know. They were innocent, and thus did not know about what Kritiker did every day to ensure their safety. Their self-assured conceit that nothing could hurt them got old after a while, old and annoying. But still, there were times when you didn't want to remember you were part of Weiss, and losing yourself in the people who knew nothing about it was a good way to try to do that.

So maybe Schuldig got tired of the normal people - but maybe, at the same time, he got tired of being Schwarz. And they were the compromise - they weren't Schwarz, but they weren't innocent either.

It was a bit of a stretch, but it worked. Just about.

So (and Ken struggled a bit to get his mind around this part of it) maybe Schuldig wasn't out to get them this time. And Yohji had said something about that, hadn't he - that Kase had been wrong, had been out to get him, and because he hadn't know he'd been hurt.

He knew Schuldig was wrong, and would most probably try to kill him whenever he could. So maybe . . . maybe, in a sense, that made him right. Because Ken couldn't be hurt by it - not emotionally, anyway - because he would always at least half-expect it. It would be the same for Yohji, who had Asuka instead of Kase.

Yohji was his best friend, no matter how many doubts he had about it, and a teammate. And if he was totally, completely honest with himself, he liked the sex. And it did relieve that last part of the tension kicking a ball around a football field didn't.

Ken closed his eyes and laughed. Trust him to make something so simple so complicated.

Rolling out of bed, he walked down the stairs and along the corridor to Yohji's room. Opening the door, he walked inside to find Schuldig watching him over Yohji's sleeping form.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Schuldig smirked at him. It wasn't his usual cold, cruel smirk, but one that had genuine amusement in it. He held out his hand in an eloquent gesture Ken hadn't been sure Schuldig knew how to make.

Ken took it.

[Owari]

[1] Over here we call robes "dressing gowns", but . . . dammit, fanfiction has indoctrinated me! Robe just sounded better. Plus it has less letters, so it's easier to write. :P
[2] It's a Star Wars reference. (In case you hadn't guessed already.) Not a quote, since I don't make a habit of memorising Star Wards quotes, but along the lines of how I think one might go. Sorry to any Star Wars fans who might get annoyed at the inaccurate reference!
[3] It's not SOCCER, it's FOOTBALL! WE invented the bloody game, WE get to name it! So ner!

Ahem. Yes.

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