“Wandering the back alleyways in Dublin. No one went near him because they all believed him to be a murderer.”

“Interesting. You do know that he *is* a murderer, right?”

Brad shrugged as he typed something into his laptop. He was seated at the dining room table with his work spread all around him. It was two days since Schuldich had arrived. The German had slept all day yesterday to make up for the hours lost by jet lag and was spending today making up for two years of separation by being an annoyance. Brad didn’t know what was giving him a headache more—Schuldich or his computer.

It was probably Schuldich.

“I don’t care what he is. I was ordered to retrieve him and I did.”

Schuldich chuckled softly. “Ever the obedient dog, aren’t you? What’s his power?”

“He has none like ours.”

“Then why is he here?”

“I said that he had none like ours, not that he didn’t have any.”

Schuldich looked up from the television, eyeing him with bored eyes. “Then what *is* his power?”

Brad popped a disk into the laptop and started to upload it. “He feels no pain.”

The German arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Brad ignored the derisive tone in the other man’s voice. “Yes. Farfarello is immune to any physical pain We’ve tortured him enough to figure that out. He feels nothing. It’s rather strange.”

“I find nothing strange anymore.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Schuldich dropped the remote on the floor and sat up with a grin. “No, I don’t believe you can.”

Brad chose to ignore him but found that it didn’t quite work when the redhead came over to where he was sitting and sat down in his lap, slender arms wrapping around his neck. He tilted his head a bit, long red hair falling over one eye. “I haven’t seen you for two years,” he murmured, lips twitching up into a smile.

Brad looked through him, refusing to acknowledge what he was trying to do. “Schuldich, get off of me,” he told him calmly. “I’ve got work to do.”

“You could work me.”

“I’d rather not.”

Schuldich threw back his head and laughed. Brad felt a sharp touch enter his mind and he quickly raised his mental shields against Schuldich’s intrusion. Still laughing Schuldich pressed his lips to Brad’s, prying the other man’s lips apart studiously. With incredible skill that left Brad breathless the redhead explored every inch of his mouth almost casually. Brad tried to resist, he really did, but in the face of Schuldich’s perseverance, he didn’t stand a chance. Hesitantly, reluctantly, he kissed Schuldich back and felt the German smirk against his mouth.

/You want me/, Schuldich said into his mind. /Admit it./

Brad chose to go the neutral approach. /Get out of my mind./

Brilliant laughter echoed through his head as Schuldich pulled away, one hand trailing down Brad’s torso before cupping at his groin. He flexed his hand, hearing Brad suck in his breath slightly. Leaning forward he brushed his lips against Brad’s ear. “You can’t ignore me. No matter how hard you try,” he whispered.

Then he was picking himself up off of Brad with a grin, leaving the American sitting rigid in his chair He left without a word and Brad swallowed against the ache in his lower belly, willing the want to go away. He ran his tongue over his lips. Two years with only a memory and now the taste was back in his mouth. He shivered slightly, raising a hand to touch his kiss-bruised lips.

Two points Schuldich. Zero Brad.

He could learn to hate this game.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Schuldich walked down the hall with easy strides, his feet taking him to the locked and guarded door to Farfarello’s room. The four men standing guard over it eyed him warily. He was new but it was obvious that he was one of the their bosses. They didn’t exactly know what his power was but they didn’t want to do anything to provoke him. Schuldich read that in their public minds and smirked at them.

“Open the door,” he commanded. One of the men nodded and proceeded to undo the six locks on the door. Silently he opened it, gun at the ready, and Schuldich walked right past him into the room, unarmed. “Close it.”

The man hesitated a moment but did as he was told It wasn’t his place to give advice, just to follow orders. The door snicked shut softly, leaving Schuldich in afternoon sunlight. The room was empty of all furnishings; bare white walls dappled with sunlight that filtered through a window that was barred on the inside, the metal rigged for electrocution if touched. Farfarello was in the corner again and still in the straight jacket, sucking on a knife. Dried blood stuck to his chin and neck, his lips stained crimson. Even as Schuldich watched, another trickle of blood flooded the corner of his mouth and over-flowed down his chin. His straight jacket was stained red around his throat.

The boy’s single golden eye stared at him with contempt, the knife moving over his lips. Schuldich smirked at him as he sauntered over to the younger youth. He was two years older than Farfarello but had no doubt that the boy was dangerous. “I see Brad gave you a knife. Enjoying it?”

Farfarello’s response was a faint flicker of pink tongue over the blade. Schuldich paused before Farfarello, bent over him, and then wrapped his hand over the hilt of the knife, tugging it out of his mouth. Farfarello didn’t want to relinquish it and clenched his teeth over the metal, his eye narrowing in challenge. Schuldich arched an eyebrow and simply ripped it free with his greater strength. It made an eerie screeching sound as it came out. It was covered in blood and saliva, thick drops falling to the floor. Fresh blood trickled out of Farfarello’s mouth and he growled, glaring up at the redhead. Schuldich smiled down at him and brought the knife to his own lips, his tongue flickering out to taste the mixture. Slowly he licked the knife clean and then studied the naked blade.

“You taste sweet,” he mused. “Considering your appearance, that’s a strange paradox.”

Farfarello’s eye narrowed even more and he lashed out with his hobbled legs. Schuldich easily sidestepped him with a laugh and shook his head as he knelt next to him. Threading his free hand through the short white locks, he yanked Farfarello’s head back viciously and met the Irishman’s gaze easily. Without a word he pressed his lips to Farfarello’s and felt the blood rush into his mouth.

Hungrily he lapped it up; lips and tongue exploring Farfarello’s sliced up, bleeding mouth and lips. After a moment the Irishman began to kiss him back, clumsy in his curious attempt as he tried to emulate Schuldich’s actions. Schuldich smirked against his lips and pulled back. His slid his hand over Farfarello’s face and indented his bottom, pouty lip with his thumb, smearing the blood and mixed saliva in a scarlet streak over Farfarello’s pale cheek.

“I think I’ll like playing with you,” Schuldich said. “Brad says you feel no pain. Is that true?”

“My pain is for God. He hurts because I bleed,” Farfarello spat out.

Schuldich smirked and licked Farfarello’s mouth. “Glad to hear it. Because you’ll be bleeding a lot with me today.”

Farfarello met his smirk with a hostile smile. “God will hurt.”

Schuldich nodded as he placed the knife back in Farfarello’s mouth and kissed him around the blade, the tender flesh of his lips and tongue splitting open along the edge. Schuldich’s blood filled his own mouth and he swallowed it, the metallic taste sweet like honey to him. Farfarello met his assault willingly, instinct filling in where skill lacked. Schuldich wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and deftly undid the leather straps that crisscrossed his back, releasing his arms The sleeves fell loose and Farfarello’s arms dropped out of their pinned position to his side.

Schuldich’s hands slid down his back to undo the crotch strap. Farfarello squirmed as he tugged it free. Schuldich pulled back and stared at Farfarello, lips bleeding from the cuts on his lips. The Irishman smirked at him from around the knife, tongue curling around it Schuldich smiled and grabbed the front of the straight jacket, dragging him to his feet. Without a word he threw Farfarello into the middle of the room.

His legs tangled together and he fell, landing on his back with a loud thud. The knife went spinning out of his mouth and across the floor. Schuldich calmly retrieved it before walking over to Farfarello and planting a foot on his chest. He tilted his head and looked down at him, green eyes studying the boy intently The corners of his mouth turned upwards after several moments.

“I wonder what your mind is like.”

Without warning he reached out with his power and engulfed Farfarello’s without warning. The Irishman’s slender body arched up against Schuldich’s weight, mouth open in a silent scream, the expression on his face full of morbid curiosity. Heels and hands and shoulders pressed hard against the marble floor as Schuldich casually shifted through his thoughts, his power linking them intimately. Silently Schuldich slowly collapsed on top of Farfarello, legs on either side of his, hands on either side of Farfarello’s head; knife still clenched in one of them.

Schuldich looked down into Farfarello’s pupil dilated eyed, his thoughts twisting around Farfarello’s. The Irishman was writhing beneath him in an erotic matter, his mind unable to defend against Schuldich’s invasion. After a while, Schuldich tore his mind from Farfarello’s, unaffected. The same could not be said for Farfarello. He went limp the moment Schuldich left his mind, his single eye rolling up into his head, mouth open and breathing heavily.

Schuldich sighed and sat up. “No wonder why you feel no pain. You’re so fucked in the head that I wonder if you can tell reality from your ravings.”

Farfarello couldn’t reply, still struggling to collect himself from the mind merge. Schuldich sighed and put the knife between his teeth, clenching it tight as he undid Farfarello’s pants and yanked them down to his knees. His high boots and restraining strap impeded anymore progress but Schuldich didn’t care. Undoing his own pants he slid between Farfarello’s legs and grabbed the boy’s hips. Lifting him up he thrust up into his body without warning. Farfarello focused his eye and blinked up at Schuldich.

The redhead removed the knife from his mouth and leaned over Farfarello, shifting inside him. He placed it over Farfarello’s shoulder and pressed down until a faint blossom of red stained the thick white fabric. Farfarello squirmed but didn’t cry out, watching Schuldich intently. His mind wasn’t sure what was happening but his body did, an ache forming between his legs that he hadn’t felt before. Not quite pain, really, just something—different. The German grinned down at him as he pressed the knife deeper.

“I want you to pray,” he ordered, thrusting up into him as blood flowed up around the knife.

“Our father, who art in Heaven—” Farfarello obediently rasped out, his body tingling from pain that he refused to acknowledge and pleasure that he stored away for later examination.

“That’s it.”

“—hallowed be thy Name—”

“You’re hurting your God with this act.”

“—thy Kingdom come—”

“If you want Him to suffer—”

“—thy will be done—”

“—you’ll do whatever I want—”

“—on Earth as it is in Heaven—”

“—because I said so.”

“—give us this day—”

“You can cut yourself all you want.”

“—our daily bread—”

“I don’t care.”

“—and forgive us our trespassing—”

“Bleed for Him.”

“—as we forgive those—”

“Live for Him.”

“—who trespass against us—”

“But if you want to survive—”

“—and lead us not—”

“—if you want to stay alive—”

“—into temptation—”

“—you—”

“—and deliver—”

“—will—”

“—us—”

“—kill—”

“—from—”

“—for—”

“—evil.”

“—me.”

They came on their last words and Schuldich drove the knife deep into Farfarello’s shoulder until the point scrapped against the floor, kissing him so hard that the tears in his lips split open wider. They drank each other’s blood deeply, wounded tongues sparring for dominance as the urgency left their bodies faded away. When they pulled apart, Farfarello stared up at Schuldich, breathing harshly.

Schuldich smiled coldly. “Do you understand?”

Slowly Farfarello nodded. “God hurts,” he whispered.

Schuldich chuckled as he pulled out of Farfarello’s body. “Yes. God hurts,” he told Farfarello as he stood up and buckled his pants. Bending over he yanked the knife free and clenched it between his teeth again and with quick, precise motions, he drew Farfarello’s pants back on and pulled him to his feet. Farfarello remained still as Schuldich silently re-strapped the straight jacket on, his attention focused inwards. His shoulder was bleeding heavily but he ignored it.

Schuldich took as step back and removed the knife from his teeth. Using the point he tilted Farfarello’s chin up and then tapped the flat of the blade on his bloody lips, smearing more of the thick blood over his face. “You do what I say and God will bleed up in Heaven,” he told him.

Farfarello eyed him dispassionately before he smiled against he knife. There was no sanity in his golden, one-eyed gaze. “I’ll make Him die.”

Schuldich smiled as he let Farfarello take the knife into his mouth. Leaning forward he licked around the knife, cleaning up some of the blood. “You do that,” he murmured before he pulled away and headed for the door. Behind him Farfarello let the knife fall from his lips with a clatter as he threw back his head and howled with laughter.

“I’ll make God *die*!” he shrieked.

Schuldich smirked as he closed the door behind him, looking at Brad calmly. Deliberately he raised his hand to his mouth and sucked on one bloodstained finger with sliced lips and tongue. After a moment he took his finger out of his mouth and reached out to trace Brad’s lips with his finger. “Taste him. He’s sweet.”

Brad kept his lips closed.

Schuldich chuckled softly a he dropped his arm and moved past him. Brad sighed and searched out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth clean. “I’ll call the surgeon.”

“You do that.”

Schuldich smiled to himself as he headed for the bathroom to clean up. God was Farfarello’s undoing. Now if he could only find out what Brad’s was, he would die a happy man.

After he fucked the American’s brains out, that is.