This is a Weis Kreuz fanfiction. It contains male on male sex and BDSM/Fetish. If you do not enjoy this sort of thing and continue reading it anyway, you can't say you weren't told.
I value comments, so if you can leave a review it is much appreciated. This fic is post season 1 – and leads into Gluhen.
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Ken really hated his life sometimes. He got off his bike and took off his helmet, briefly rubbing his tired eyes. He had been awake since late the night before, almost 24 hours. His boyfriend thought right after a mission was a good time to dump him. Heaven alone knew what Aya was thinking, he didn’t. The cold bastard just said, “I’ve had it with you are your screw ups, we’re finished.” The odd thing was that the mission had gone exactly as planned. Aya was being evasive and dishonest and Ken knew it. Then he had heard Aya talking with Yohji, soft murmurs in the dark. The real reason was so blatantly obvious. That is what hurt the most. The way Aya lied just because he wanted Yohji instead. It was probably because Yohji did not want Ken to be upset with him. Right, that was sound logic.
Ken sighed and got up the nerve to go into the club. It was called The Dungeon. A private club for members only, Omi had bought him a membership as a joke for his birthday. But, he needed to get out of the house and away from the betrayal from his lover and one of his close friends. Maybe it was time to talk to Birman about a new team. He pushed through the door and pulled out his membership card to show the hulking bouncer in black leather. Ken had dressed in tight leather pants and a black tank top under his leather jacket, mostly to bolster his own faltering ego. He had always been told that he looked hot in that outfit.
Walking to the bar, he pulled up a seat. There was a small stage off towards his left and apparently, he was just in time to catch the main act. There was a person sitting on a stool in the dark off to one side of the stage and directly in the front was a man hanging in wrist restraints from a hook in the ceiling, his ankles were spread far apart and held with restraints as well. Someone even went through the trouble of using a spreader bar between his knees. The man wore tight red bikini underwear and that was it. A man wearing a mask walked onto the stage. All that could be seen of his face was his eyes and white hair. Well, only one eye, the other had a patch over it. Ken gave a start as he recognized one of his previous enemies. Kritker had taken them in because they had went up against Esstet and betrayed them. Schwarz were still in operation, they had been allowed to freelance, but they were required to do missions for Kritker as well. Birman had told them this, just in case their paths should cross accidentally. Kritker would not appreciate it if their newest operatives and their best cell killed each other by mistake. Aya had been livid. He was one to hold grudges for eternity. They had kidnapped his sister and got into his way so many times, he really wanted revenge.
The narrator started reciting a very dark, somewhat morbid poem and Farfarello began to cut his victim lightly. Shaping the blood as if he were painting with it. His fingers gently sweeping the red fluid around his slave’s back. His was completely absorbed in the process of cutting and smoothing the blood. It was hypnotic, how he worked over the other man’s body. The hands moving like an artist working on a sculpture mesmerized Ken. As his mind was drawn into the scene on stage by the soft narrative accompanying the work, his mind began to wander. He started to fantasize about what those hands would feel like on his own body, that ever sharp knife parting his own skin and how the blood would feel warm and slick on his back. His mouth was dry suddenly. He barely took his eyes off Farfarello as he motioned the bartender for a drink. It was erotic, sinful and all too sensual. He found himself wanting the pain of those hands, imagined the pain exorcising the demon of Aya from his soul.
Farfarello ended the show all to quickly. He finished drawing stylized wings of fire onto his slave and motioned for the man to be released. Ken thought it odd that he seemed so unusually focused. He wasn’t around the man enough to realize that while the man was psychotic; he managed to concentrate very well. Ken took another gulp of his drink and choked a little as the overly sweet mess hit the back of his throat.
