Aya leaned back, watching the dark landscape as it sped past. "Very well." His hands folded in his lap, graceful, slender fingers playing over his knuckles temptingly.

Schuldig found himself glancing at Aya out of the corner of his eye, appreciating the aesthetic form of the other assassin as never before. Sure, he'd known the redhead was attractive, but he'd never really analyzed it before. He wondered if Aya could ever think of HIM that way, or if this entire encounter was doomed to failure. He mused, racking his brain for ways to aid his cause until he'd arrived at his apartment. He turned off the car and got out. "Come on inside, then, Aya," he said lightly.

Aya's eyes traveled over the building as he stood beside Schuldig's car. Silently, they turned to watch Schuldig moving toward a door. His mind warned him it was a trap, but nevertheless, he found himself following Schuldig inside.

"Just relax, Aya. I'm not going to hurt you," Schuldig said, smirking slightly. He put his keys into a door and opened it, ushering the other assassin inside. The apartment was small, but not as small as some. There was a living room with kitchenette, and a separate bedroom, as well as a full bathroom with a large Japanese-style tub, as well as a separate shower stall. It was tastefully decorated in a comfortable way, obvious that the owner appreciated comfort more than aesthetic, but rated aesthetic pretty highly as well. Schuldig shot a glance at Aya as he took in his surroundings. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

"Whatever you're having, please," Aya nodded, walking the length of the living room as he looked around. He'd shed his shoes at the door, and proceeded to remove his jacket slowly, aware that the cut of his shirt was thick enough to hide the knife along his left forearm from someone not trained as an assassin, but that Schuldig would likely notice immediately. His mind drifted over the decoration, and he reached out, trailing a hand along the back of the couch.

Schuldig hesitated with his hand on the handle for the liquor cabinet, debating with himself. Finally, he opened it and pulled out a bottle of white wine, then grabbed two glasses and headed back to Aya, hoping this wouldn't be misconstrued as an attempt to get the other assassin drunk. A little bit relaxed would help immensely, but he didn't want any misunderstandings in the morning. He saw the knife and glanced at Aya askance. "Do you usually wear that on your outings?" he asked, dropping onto the couch beside him and placing the glasses and bottle on the table.

"Only the ones I deem likely to be dangerous," Aya shrugged. "I'm trained to survive. I don't see the point in being unarmed in a potentially lethal situation." He folded himself onto the couch he'd been standing beside, making no offer to take off the knife. He twisted, facing Schuldig, one arm draped over the back of the couch easily. "Nice place you have," he noted. "I didn't think you'd have such taste."

Schuldig snorted. "What did you think my apartment would look like?" he asked, genuinely curious. He worked the corkscrew into the bottle and extracted the cork, then placed the bottle back on the table to breathe.

"I'm not sure," Aya admitted. "I never really considered it, I suppose. I expected a few more weapons, though." He watched Schuldig thoughtfully, noting the small mannerisms, the way Schuldig's eyes watched him without seeming to, and wondered what was going on in that mind.

Schuldig smirked. "I don't keep my weapons out for just anyone to see, Aya," he teased. "What would the innocent little boys I take home from the clubs think?"

"It'd probably help them realize just how dangerous you are," Aya shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I don't pick up little boys." His head tilted again, that slow, thoughtful movement that heralded another question. "Why do you?"

"Do I really want them to know that I'm dangerous?" Schuldig replied. "And I was exaggerating. I don't bring home anyone who isn't fully aware of what they're getting into."

Aya's eyebrows raised. "Fully aware?" He chuckled, not realizing he was relaxing again. "I doubt anyone is fully aware of what they're getting into with you."

Schuldig shrugged, picked up the bottle and poured it into the glasses. "Well, maybe not fully aware, but they're not virgins, and I don't leave them with entanglements. Nor do I leave them murdered in a gutter, so they're as aware as they NEED to be, don't you think?"

Aya accepted one of the glasses with a nod of thanks, sipping the crisp liquid. "We had someone get two of us that way," he murmured finally. "Hired them all night and they ended up in the morgue." His eyes lifted to Schuldig's. "Most people hire for three or four hours, sometimes as long as six. Any longer, and I bring weapons."

Schuldig nodded. "I was sort of hoping you wouldn't know I'd hired you all night," he admitted. "But I guess that's stupid, or how would you know when to leave?" He smirked, taking a sip from his own glass. "You must have been pretty happy to have that pigsticker when you saw me."

Aya produced the contract, handing it to Schuldig. "We're always given a copy before we head out. We know what the terms are, so that there are no questions. It became sop after the murders." He leaned his cheek against his palm, propping himself up as he watched the play of emotions over Schuldig's expressive face.

Schuldig looked over the piece of paper, then handed it back to Aya. He leaned back and took another sip of the wine, relishing the sensation as it slid down his throat. "Learn something new every day." He saw the redhead watching him and smirked, but didn't comment.

"Yes," Aya agreed faintly, finally sipping at his drink again. "What do you tell the boys you bring here?" he asked finally, after contemplating what to talk about.

Schuldig shrugged. "About myself? They don't usually trouble much to find out. I think they usually like the thrill of NOT knowing. Most of them know I'm bad news, just not HOW bad news, you know?" He sighed. "They're just casual fucks, not something you spend a lot of time or energy on. Most of the time I don't even know their names."

Aya wrinkled his nose at the idea. "How can you stand it?" he asked, before he realized who he was talking to. Remembering suddenly that it was Schuldig whose wine he was sipping, his lips twisted in wry annoyance at his open question and the naïveté it must show.

Schuldig frowned at the question, he glanced down, playing idly with the stem of his glass. He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just pleasure, pure and simple. There's no pain, no emotions, just the pleasure. I guess I'm a bit of an addict. It's better than drugs or something, when I need to make the voices--" he stopped, biting his lip hard as he realized that he'd said too much.

Aya looked up sharply, searching Schuldig's face. "Make the voices stop?" he asked softly, falling into the role he found most comfortable when it came to clients. Some wanted a father confessor, and given the atrocities he'd committed, he was very good at not judging. But somehow, Schuldig's words held more meaning, perhaps because Aya understood, even vaguely, what it was like to live with guilt.

Schuldig took another sip to hide his discomfort. "Just the fucking telepathy again, don't worry about it," he said tersely. "Sometimes it's nice to have quiet, even if it's just for a few seconds."

Aya considered the words, watching Schuldig thoughtfully. "How far does your reach extend? I mean the thoughts you pick up without meaning to," he clarified quickly, swirling the wine in his glass as his eyes held Schuldig's. There was curiosity there, but surprisingly enough, there was also sympathy hidden in the depths.

Schuldig frowned, thinking. 'It depends on the intensity of the thoughts. Once there was a car accident just outside our apartment and I was catatonic for three days,' he said, wondering why he was answering the question so frankly. 'Mostly I need to be in the same room. If I'm touching you, I really can't do anything about it, unless I concentrate hard.'

"Then how does sex silence the voices?" Aya blinked, trying to reconcile the two thoughts. The rest made sense, but sex generally involved quite a lot of touch. He glanced down at his wine, regarding the off-white liquid as though it held the answers.

Schuldig shrugged. 'It doesn't, exactly, but when you're having an orgasm, they just don't seem so important. I can't focus on them, because of what I'm feeling.'

Aya nodded slowly, thinking about that. "I suppose that makes sense," he finally said. "About as much sense as any of this makes to me, anyway. I've never pretended to understand your powers." He set down the wine glass, beginning to feel vaguely uncomfortable, though he couldn't quite place the source. It was irritating him, a minute scratching at the back of his mind. Fidgeting helped, however slightly, and so he began to tap his finger against the back of the couch.

Schuldig watched him for a few minutes, sipping from the glass. 'It really bothers you, doesn't it? Even without the history we have, you'd still be uncomfortable with my powers.' He sighed. 'I would never expect you to understand, anyway. Even other telepaths don't understand.'

"I don't understand them, and I wouldn't want them," Aya agreed. His eyes raised to Schuldig's once more, the finger continuing to tap absently. The nervous movement was definitely helping. He was finally beginning to relax again. "The idea of having to listen to everyone else's thoughts all the time is... not my idea of fun," he finally finished, though his head whispered, 'disgusting'.

Schuldig flinched visibly. 'Disgusting?' He stared into his glass, shrugging. 'It's not like I chose this. From what I remember, I had a normal life, until my parents decided I was possessed by the devil and I had to leave.'

Unable to come up with an excuse for his thoughts, Aya decided to shift the conversation slightly. "Where did you go?" he asked, hoping to draw out more of Schuldig's past, thinking that perhaps he could finally understand the telepath better.

Schuldig didn't look up. He turned the almost-empty glass in his hands. 'I ended up as a prostitute in Berlin. It was the only thing I could do at the age of 12 that would pay for the drugs,' he said simply.

A soft hiss of air escaped Aya, his eyes dark with fury. Within a blink of thought, he'd gone from curious to enraged, and the control it took to remain seated, only his finger tapping to release the tension, was incredible. He started to speak, but his thoughts were in too much turmoil to make much sense.

Schuldig's eyes snapped up, widening. He could feel the fury in the other man and it set his heart to pounding. He'd been holding himself back from reading Aya's mind as much as possible, and his empathy was less powerful than his telepathy. As such, he couldn't immediately tell where the anger was directed. 'What? What is it?' he asked, trying to sort through the white-hot rage to find out what had set the other man off.

Slowly, very slowly, Aya's mind centered again, grounding back into the more normal swirl of emotions that everyone had. He slowly breathed out, eyes meeting Schuldig's. A tiny part of Schuldig's mind noted that Aya's eyes darkened with fury, becoming a deep, inky violet. "My apologies," he murmured, keeping himself locked under tight control, the anger bubbling just below the surface. With the emotions locked down, Schuldig could finally see the focus - the thought of his parents casting him out and the people who must've used Schuldig while the boy worked as a prostitute.

Schuldig shifted uncomfortably. 'It's not that big a deal,' he mumbled. 'I... don't understand why you're so mad about it.'

Too angry to realize that Schuldig was reading his thoughts to find answers, Aya answered. "It should never have happened. They were responsible for your well-being, and they betrayed you." Another flash of thought, a what-if appearing briefly as Aya's mind brought the problem even closer to home. What if it had been him? What if it had been Aya-chan? But the anger didn't deepen further, and Schuldig slowly realized that it was the thought of a child harmed in such a way that awakened the rage.

Schuldig shrugged. 'I guess my parents just didn't know how to deal with it. They didn't understand what was going on, and neither did I. I thought I was schizophrenic or something until Brad found me.' He looked up, meeting Aya's rage-darkened eyes with his deep blue ones. 'And you of all people know the things that go on in the real world.'

Aya nodded once, tightly. "It shouldn't happen to anyone, but it does," he said softly. "And it's my job to fight it... or it was, before I left." He was very uncomfortable now, only firm self-control keeping him from rising and pacing. Instead, he shifted once more on the couch, both hands now tapping restlessly.

Schuldig looked at him helplessly. He put the glass down on the coffee table and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. 'Fucking hell. I've really messed this up, haven't I?'

Aya started to answer, then blinked as he finally realized what was bothering him. "Do you have music here?" he asked. Whenever he was upset or uncomfortable, he always retreated into the music. On jobs, he normally couldn't, but since most of them didn't even last five hours, it was never difficult to wait. Now, though, it would go a long way toward helping him, if Schuldig was willing to indulge him.

Schuldig blinked in surprise. 'Uh, yeah.' He got to his feet and went to a small discrete panel embedded in the wall. He fiddled for a moment and the soft sounds of a classical piece suddenly wafted through the apartment. 'What do you want to listen to?' he asked, his back to Aya.

"That's fine," Aya said, closing his eyes and focusing himself on the music. As the piece continued, Schuldig felt his thoughts resting slowly on anticipating each note, each instrument. The rage and discomfort filtered away, and Schuldig saw Aya visibly relax. He finally opened his eyes. "I'm sorry. I normally don't ask clients to indulge me," he admitted softly.

Schuldig gave him a look. 'What do you mean? I feel kind of stupid for not turning on the music at the beginning. I usually like to have music playing most of the time, when I'm here.'

"I... I use music to organize my thoughts," Aya mused, trying to find the words. "When they get out of hand, I focus them on whatever I'm listening to until they calm again." He looked up at Schuldig, shrugging faintly. "It's one of the few things I spend serious money on."

Schuldig frowned, considering Aya's words for a moment. 'I guess I do the same thing. It helps me to remember which thoughts are mine, and which aren't.' He crossed back to the couch and sat down again. 'Are you... all right now, then? You seemed very... uncomfortable,' he asked hesitantly. He picked up his glass and finished the contents, then poured himself another glass, offering to do the same for Aya.

Aya accepted, holding out the glass to Schuldig. "Not completely all right," he admitted. "We have too much history for me to just relax around you. But the music helps."

Schuldig poured the wine. 'I understand that, but I'd like it if the things I just told you didn't totally ruin this evening,' he said. 'If that's even possible.'

"Why should they?" Aya asked, immediately sipping the wine before setting the glass down again. He settled his arm along the back of the couch again, the sleeve settling once more over the knife hidden beneath it.

Schuldig shrugged. 'You got so angry, and then even once you buried the anger, you were fidgeting and uncomfortable. I'm trying to put you at ease, but I keep screwing it up. I don't know what to do,' he admitted, his face twisting in frustration. 'And it's all because I told you about my past.'

Aya watched Schuldig scowl and wracked his brain for what to say. They'd been doing well until he'd get the anger free. Remembering something that Schuldig had said, Aya raised one graceful hand, twisting the wrist until the hand was held out palm up. "I think you're misunderstanding," Aya murmured.

Schuldig looked at the hand and then up at Aya's eyes, wondering if he was supposed to take it. 'What am I misunderstanding?' he asked, not moving.

Aya looked nervous, but held his ground. "See for yourself," he murmured.

Starting to understand, Schuldig reached out and took Aya's hand, then closed his eyes. As he fell into the trance, his usual expression of cynicism and sarcasm dropped away, leaving him looking oddly young and vulnerable. Suddenly, Aya wondered just how old the telepath was. He felt something like ghostly fingers probe lightly within his brain, not an uncomfortable feeling, but just... odd.

Most of Aya's thoughts were easy to ferret out, the need to save the world a laughable priority that unfortunately topped the list. There were memories Aya had summoned to mind, thoughts of his own parents in years past, the loving home all he'd known until it had been ripped from him by Takatori. Schuldig saw Aya-chan through Aya's eyes, a shining star that kept Aya going in the darkest of times. Somehow, the memories had escaped the jading covering everything else, even the need to be the world's savior.

Digging deeper, Schuldig discovered thoughts of himself, most tied in with Schwarz and how much Aya told himself he hated the other team. But the hate was self-delusion, hiding respect, admiration, and anger at how Schwarz tried to thwart Weiss' objectives, how they played with Aya's own team. More recent thoughts, discomfort and nervousness at being Schuldig's companion for the evening, at having to try to find conversation with someone who knew his past. And, more recent still, soul-deep sympathy and an odd wish to comfort Schuldig, the wish making Aya more uncomfortable than anything else. **He's like me,** whispered through Schuldig's mind, an echo of what Aya was thinking. **Except I chose this path, and I can stop things before they go too far.**

Schuldig opened his eyes, looking at Aya with an oddly open expression. Instead of pulling away, he moved closer, shifting on the couch until their legs were touching. 'I think I understand now,' Schuldig said softly. He put his hands on Aya's shoulder, a strong invitation for a hug, but didn't force the former Weiss member to respond. He tilted his head slightly, a smile on his face.

Aya swallowed, watching Schuldig warily for a few moments before slowly pressing forward, the hug nervous but still strong and surprisingly comforting.

Schuldig's hug matched Aya's in strength. He lowered his face to Aya's shoulder, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of a warm body pressed against him. He could feel the beginnings of a response lower down and blessed the fact that the position of their legs prevented any chance of the other assassin from noticing. 'What are you so nervous about, Aya?' he asked softly, his voice muffled by the other man's shoulder.

"I'm not sure," Aya whispered, shivering as Schuldig's breath hit his neck. "Touch, I think," he finally continued. Hesitantly, he leaned his head forward until his mouth rested against Schuldig's collarbone.

'What about touch makes you nervous?' Schuldig wanted to know.

"I don't generally touch people. Even clients. It's not part of the job. And on my own, I don't touch at all." He was beginning to relax into the warmth, though, his hands shifting to a more comfortable position on Schuldig's back.

Schuldig smiled. 'Doesn't seem like it's bothering you TOO much, at the moment,' he said lightly. 'You would think with my powers and all that I would be the same way, but I'm not. I like to touch people, so long as it's on my terms. It's... warm, and nice, when it's the right person.'

Aya started to pull back at Schuldig's first words, freezing as the other assassin explained what he liked about touch. He couldn't quite figure out why this felt good to him, for surely Schuldig couldn't be 'the right person', as he'd described it. And yet, he liked the feel of the strong arms around him, the body warmth shared.

Schuldig looked up as he felt Aya start to move and tilted his head so he could look at him. 'Thanks, Aya. No one's ever wanted to comfort me like that, before.'

Aya blinked, staring into Schuldig's eyes. "No one?" he repeated, startled. "Not your teammates?"

Schuldig shrugged slightly, his muscles rippling under the other man's hands. 'Do they really strike you as the most... emotionally together people in the world? None of them even really know they HAVE emotions, let alone that they should listen to them. Unless you mean emotions like anger, hatred and amusement. They don't really care about anything, let alone ME.' He said this without resentment, simply reciting facts that he totally accepted as part of life.

"I never had any dealings with them outside of Weiss. I just assumed...," he trailed off, debating with himself briefly, then moved to hug Schuldig again, offering the comfort he'd been able to take away. He couldn't really understand why he was doing this, but it felt right, almost necessary.

Schuldig purred in the back of his throat. 'This is... good,' he said softly. He shifted, curling his legs under him and turning almost onto his back, so his upper body was cradled in Aya's arms and his own arms were still around the other man. He looked up at Aya, his eyes heavy-lidded and content. 'You don't mind, do you?' he asked.

"N-no," Aya said softly, startled at the abrupt shift in the telepath. He held Schuldig close, letting his eyes close quietly. "No," he repeated, his voice slightly stronger and more firm. "I don't."

Schuldig closed his own eyes, a smile playing across his lips. He lay there for a while, letting the music wash over him and enjoying being cuddled against the other man. Finally, he said softly, so as not to break the silence too harshly. 'Any other questions, Aya?'

"I don't know," Aya sighed, listening more to the music than Schuldig's voice. "I'm not really sure what I'm thinking any longer. This whole situation is... surreal." He sounded amused, but finally comfortable.

Schuldig chuckled low in his throat. 'I know what you mean.'

"You had the right to ask for someone else, you know," Aya murmured. "They should've told you that."

Schuldig shrugged. 'I like you.'

"What?!" Aya frowned, eyes opening as he looked down at Schuldig, startled.

Schuldig opened his eyes and grinned up at the startled look on Aya's face. 'You're a lot more interesting,' he said simply.

"Than what?" Aya asked, the grin unsettling him. His stomach clenched with some odd, unnamed emotion.

'Then some nameless kid who happens to work for an escort service and knows how to make conversation. It would have driven me nuts if he'd lied the way you usually do. And besides, you're just more interesting. You're not naive and innocent, like most of the people you work with.' Schuldig replied. 'You know about real life.'

"A lot more of them know about real life than I care to think," Aya sighed, letting his head tilt back until it rested against the back of the couch. "I don't know them well, but I do my best to protect them."

Schuldig chuckled. 'I'll bet you do,' he said ironically. He tilted his head to the side a little. 'Don't you ever get tired of people relying on you? Of protecting people who don't even know, or care?' he asked, genuinely trying to understand.

"It doesn't matter if I get tired or not. There's no one else," Aya shrugged, arms tightening around Schuldig slightly. "And I can't just ignore them." He was growing used to the sound of Schuldig's voice, to the warmth they shared between them while cuddling.

Schuldig frowned. 'That's what I don't get. Why not? What do you owe them?'

"Nothing," Aya admitted. "But it's a job that someone must do, and better someone already jaded than a true innocent, right?" he asked, remembering his training with Kritiker, the first time he'd killed someone and how he'd been unable to sleep months after without wanting to kill himself.

Schuldig's frown deepened as he sensed the other assassin's thoughts. 'I suppose so,' he conceded. 'It really bothers you, doesn't it? All the killing. Even though you think you're in the right, and even though you're saving lives, it still bothers you.'

"Yes," Aya nodded, sighing. It had to sound stupid to the telepath, he thought. But something about causing all those deaths... he no longer grew nauseous, but he still hated himself, still could see the blood staining his hands.

Schuldig sighed. 'I'll never understand what the big deal is with all of you, but I guess that's just a bit of the difference between Schwartz and Weiss.' He grinned again. 'But it doesn't mean that I'll stop liking you.'

"It's responsibility," Aya murmured. "Someone has to watch out for others. Would you really want to be part of a world where all the relationships were like what you described about Schwarz?" he asked philosophically, not really sure how to answer Schuldig's teasing.

Schuldig shrugged a little. 'Not having any experience with other types of relationships, I can't really say. I don't know what normal people do, really, even though I see some of it in their thoughts. I discount most of it, anyway, since most people are pretty self-deceiving about their relationships with others.'

"True enough, I suppose," Aya said. "I wouldn't really know. I've always deluded myself well, but I don't know how others think." He shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position. The change slid Schuldig's upper body more firmly against Aya's.

Schuldig turned slightly towards Aya, cuddling closer. 'I guess that's why I find you so attractive,' he mused quietly. 'You're drop-dead gorgeous, you're dangerous, and I don't understand you at all.'

Aya blinked, his head coming up as his eyes stared at Schuldig in shock. "What?" he demanded.

Schuldig chuckled. 'I said, 'I guess that's why I find you so attractive'. Do you want me to repeat the rest as well?' he asked teasingly.

"No," Aya said hurriedly, shaking his head with vehemence. "Absolutely not."

Schuldig laughed out loud. 'Don't freak out on me, Aya. Does it bother you that much that I'm attracted to you?'

"It's not... it doesn't make any sense," Aya finally said, shaking his head firmly.

'Doesn't make any sense? Why doesn't it make sense that I'd be attracted to you?' Schuldig asked, his eyes widening in incredulity.

**Because you're Schwarz and I'm Weiss,** was Aya's first thought, though he said nothing. He wracked his brain, trying to find something he could do to explain, not realizing how loud his thoughts were speaking.

Schuldig frowned. 'Why would that matter?' he asked, then winced, realizing that he'd caught a thought so loudly that he had assumed it was spoken aloud. 'Sorry, didn't realize you were just thinking that time,' he said quickly.

"We're different," Aya said, red staining his cheeks. He looked at the ceiling as his head rested against the back of the couch again. "You said you couldn't shut out thoughts when you were touching someone. I can't help it if you pick up something." The stiff tone to his voice told Schuldig that Aya perhaps thought he SHOULD be able to control it.

'You're right, you can't help it, and neither can I,' Schuldig said, equally stiffly. 'Anyway, I don't give a rat's ass if you're in Weiss or Schwartz. I know it matters to you, but I never had anything against any of you. What happened was business, nothing more.'

"It was never about business to me," Aya said softly. "It was always personal."

Schuldig sighed. 'I know. And that's why you don't want to be attracted to me. But it has no bearing on how I feel about you,' he said quietly, only a hint of amusement colouring his voice.

Aya scowled. "I know nothing about you, save what you've told me tonight and your actions against Weiss. Exactly how am I supposed to be attracted to someone I don't know?" He sounded frustrated, and a little confused.

Schuldig shrugged. 'You know as much about me - almost - as Schwartz does, and a HELL of a lot more than any of the people I've fucked. What does knowing me have to do with attraction?'

"The thought of sex with someone I don't know leaves me cold," Aya admitted, not thinking about his words.

Schuldig paused, then shrugged almost sadly. 'Yeah, I guess,' he muttered. 'I suppose in a way, I'm still a whore,' he added, too distracted by the sudden, inexplicable tightening in his chest to realize that he'd spoken aloud.

"You're not a whore, Schuldig," Aya murmured, spreading one hand over Schuldig's back. "You just have different tastes than I do. It's not wrong, just wrong for me."

Schuldig opened his eyes and looked at Aya narrowly. 'All right, then let's get to know each other better. What do you want to know?'

Aya felt the shift in position and looked down at Schuldig, startled at how vibrant Schuldig's blue eyes were. "I... What holds you to Schwarz?"

'Brad owns me,' Schuldig replied simply.

"Owns you?" Aya asked, frowning again.

Schuldig nodded. 'He picked me up off the street, kept me safe, made Estet teach me everything they knew about telepathy so I could survive and get off the drugs. He kept me from becoming a lab rat in Estet, as well. Everything I have, I owe to him.'

Slowly, one hand drifted up to thread through Schuldig's hair. "That doesn't mean he owns you, Schuldig," Aya whispered.

Schuldig allowed his eyes to drift shut, almost purring at the touch to his hair. 'You say that like you think I should mind.'

"Don't you?" Aya asked softly.

'Why should I? I'd be dead now if it weren't for him. And I would have been totally fucking insane before that. I'd do anything for him.' He frowned slightly. 'I guess you'd call that 'loyalty'.'

"Yes," Aya nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose I would." Aya's chest felt tight, his heart speeding as he continued to toy with Schuldig's hair, sweeping his fingers through it as he thought.

Schuldig's frown relaxed as he luxuriated in the sensation of Aya running his hands through his hair. As he relaxed, he purred audibly, and his face reformed into a contented smile. 'This feels so good...' he murmured.

Aya sighed softly, admiring the beauty of Schuldig's smile. He wondered what it would be like to forget everything about their past, to taste those curved lips without bitterness and anger corrupting the flavor.

Schuldig caught the thought and sighed. 'Do you think it would ever be possible to just forget about our past, for just a little while?' he asked wistfully, echoing the thought on purpose, but hoping Aya wouldn't realize that he had.

"I don't know," Aya said softly, not making the connection, just as Schuldig had hoped. "I don't think it's an option for us," he added, not realizing how much the sentence said about how far Schuldig had come in seducing him.

Schuldig placed his elbows against the arm of the couch, levering himself up slightly so that his face was closer to the other assassin's. 'Are you sure?' he asked, then tilted his head up and brushed his lips lightly against Aya's, just barely a kiss - more a suggestion of kisses.

Aya sucked in a breath, pressing into the kiss without conscious thought. The sensations flitting through his body heady and far different from anything he'd ever felt before. His hand caught in Schuldig's hair, stilling though the warmth remained.

Schuldig moaned slightly as he pressed into the kiss. He didn't have the leverage to deepen it further, but he opened his mouth, swiping gently at Aya's lips with his tongue, but not demanding entrance. He told himself harshly to take this slow, not wanting to scare his potential lover off by being overly aggressive, so he curbed his usual tendency to dominate, allowing Aya to set the pace.

Aya's lips parted, his head angling slightly as he answered Schuldig's desire with his own, caught up in the passion. The invasion of Schuldig's tongue was intoxicating, a dark, drowning need that drenched him. His body felt on fire, needing more of this. If he'd been capable of more coherent thought, he might have wondered if it was Schuldig's doing, but caught up in the sensation of the kiss, his paranoia fled.

Schuldig's tongue explored Aya's mouth fully, teasing all of the places that made him gasp and moan. He tasted of wine and roses, with an undercurrent of blood that was more subconscious than actually present. Schuldig's eyes slitted shut and he pressed closer as best he could from the angle he was at. His arms began to tremble from the strain of holding himself up at such an awkward angle, but he ignored it, lost in the incredible depths and nuances of Aya's mouth and tongue.

Aya whimpered, brushing his tongue against Aya's occasionally, tasting the telepath's kiss, an echo of the wine still haunting the wet heat. **More,** his mind whispered, pleading to continue this incredible sensation. His hand explored the back of Schuldig's neck, tracing the slice of bare skin.

Schuldig shivered at the touch to the back of his neck. **I'm going to need to move a bit if you want more, lover,** he purred into Aya's mind.

Aya stilled, not pulling away as his mind tried to pull him away from the sensations, reminding him exactly who was seducing him. But somehow, it didn't seem to matter so much any longer. Torn, he gently broke the kiss, eyes sliding open to gaze at Schuldig solemnly.

Schuldig's sapphire blue eyes opened, their colour darkened even further into midnight blue by arousal. He sat up, turning around so he could regard Aya with a small smile. 'Do you really want this, or are you going to change your mind halfway through?' he asked seriously. Part of him kicked itself for giving him the option, rather than taking advantage of the heat of the moment to finish what they'd started, but the other half of him stood firm. Suddenly, he wanted this to be mutual, real, and he didn't want Aya to have regrets. He had enough respect for the other assassin to grant him that. And he didn't want to get left in the lurch, if the other assassin decided at the last minute that he couldn't do this with a member of Schwartz after all.

"I... don't know," Aya whispered, staring into Schuldig's eyes. He felt swept along, wanting more of the pleasure he'd already experienced. "This is new to me." One hand raised shakily to Schuldig's cheek, spreading over the soft skin as he held his ground, heart thrumming.

Schuldig raised his hand to answer Aya's brushing his fingers over the smooth skin of his cheek then allowing them to travel downwards towards the join of his neck and shoulder. 'I don't want you to do this and have regrets, Aya,' he said softly. 'But believe me when I say, I WANT you.'

Aya shivered at the soft touch, his head automatically tilting so that his cheek brushed the back of Schuldig's hand. His mind was whirling, thoughts of the 'no-sex' policy warring with the pleasure of Schuldig's taste. Threading through it was the faint thought that, **Perhaps he could understand me enough...**, too quickly shoved away. Every touch seemed to send the 'no-sex policy' thoughts farther and farther away, the new focus on Schuldig's hands.

Schuldig fought with himself not to kiss Aya again, trying to stand firm and give the younger man time to decide. He couldn't stop his hands from wandering, however, and they drifted downwards, smoothing over the planes of his chest and then around his body. He pressed closer, intoxicated by the faint blush on Aya's cheeks, the look of need warring with uncertainty in his violet eyes. The German tilted his head down and kissed him again, but broke away before the kiss could deepen and got to his feet. 'I'll wait for you, Aya,' he said, turning and walking towards the bedroom. 'If you decide you want me, follow, if not, you can stay out there until we both calm down.'

Aya looked startled, swaying after Schuldig as he pulled away. Deep, purple-ink eyes followed Schuldig's movements out of the room, and then returned to stare at the ceiling. He was hyper aware of his body, of the shifting sensation of his shirt over his skin. His slacks were too tight now, but he didn't allow himself to shift. What did he want to do? Could he really sleep with Schuldig without regrets? And if not, what regrets would they be? Slowly, his eyes traveled back to the bedroom door. He started to rise, stopping when his hand hit paper. Looking down, he stared at the contract for several seconds, his eyes slowly shuttering.

Schuldig wasted no time searching the room thoroughly as soon as he entered. He was intimately familiar with every inch of this room, and soon discovered the small hole drilled in the wall opposite the bed, and the tiny camera inserted inside. Swiftly, he reached in and pulled out the camera, snapping the cable in half and crushing the tiny lens beneath his boot. He didn't mind Nagi watching the show if it was a meaningless encounter with a nameless innocent, but this was Aya, and if any record was to be made of an encounter with the beautiful assassin, he wanted it to be on his terms. He didn't question his feelings on this, filing away his reluctance for later examination. Giving the room another once-over and not finding any other surveillance equipment, he sat down on the edge of the bed and waited nervously.