Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Weiß Kreuz.
Untitled
by Seph Lorraine
FarfRan (wtf) // WC: 748
There was a glint in his eye, a small fleck of light reflected from the street light outside. The room was dark, the only sound a rustling of fabric from Ran's coat and a solitary footstep from his so far silent opponent. Nothing was visible of the other man in the darkness but the dark gleam of an amber eye, but with the step forward, a dark silhouette could be distinctly defined from an even darker shadow.
Ran felt the grip on his blade tighten instinctively, his muscles tensing for the slightest hint or implication that the figure before him would make another move.
The shadow moved again, and not an instant later the redhead had thrust upward, wasting no time in shoving the shadow back with the edge of the blade held tightly at it's throat.
An amber eye blinked owlishly and a pink tongue darted out to lick pale lips in thought, then whispered mutely, manner unnerved by the cool metal against his skin, "Here, kitty."
He could feel the other man's heated breath against his face and realized just how small the distance between their faces were. Staring directly into the gaze of a psychopath.
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." The amber eye was watchful, tilting forward to peer into narrowed violet. Lips tilted almost unnoticeably into a mischievous tilt.
Ran pressed forward just the slightest bit more with his blade, "Shut up." His voice was a muted whisper, but stern when it rose. Violet eyes, however mistakenly an action it could be, flickered away, to the window again and the light that seemed to be growing darker without.
Before his eyes could even readjust themselves to his target he felt the exhale of warm breath against his cheek and the sudden presence of a slick tongue trailing across smooth skin to curve of his ear. Violet eyes widened and the swordsman made to pull back, but realised immediately that he couldn't do that without releasing the creature. The Irishman allowed a slow smirk to crawl across pale lips; he seemed to understand this as well.
Without hesitation the Irishman pressed forward, capturing the blade with his own hands and pushing back, unmindful of the thick red liquid that streamed instantly from the wounds down his pale, bandage-wrapped arms. Stepping with an unnatural grace and pushing the katana by the redhead's arms upwards until the blade fell to the floor with a clang, leaving the redhead to take a fumbling step back, those his arms were gripped tight in cold, pale hands that could have passed for claws.
Every survival instinct in Ran's body was to be on alert, mind racing quickly for a strategy. The man before him, amber eye alight with dark amusement, now held his arms high and closed the distance between them with one decided step. Dry, scarred lips pressed into his own with an almost violent intensity, pushing the stumbling redhead backwards with surprisingly little effort.
Ran was in shock, feeling himself near losing the little footing he had as the trek backwards progressed, but if he pressed forward... He could hardly think to consider that.
A tongue begged for entrance, running across closed lips and slipping between without waiting for or expecting a response.
Violet eyes squinted together as the redhead jerked his head to the side, parting his mouth from the other man, and pushed back quickly with his feet until they had stopped moving. Farfarello, however, was at it again, lips and tongue assaulting the side of his face and curve of his jaw.
He jerked one hand back, breaking the other man's grip and threw his fist forcefully into his opponent's unguarded stomach. The grip on his other arm instantly loosened, the rough lips leaving his skin as the force of the blow threw the other man backwards.
The pale man jerked from his backwards route, one last blow delivered as he drove into the redhead's shoulder with a knife that seemed to come from nowhere.
Instinctively, Ran felt his body hunch forward at the blow, feeling the metal move right through muscle and tissue, driving itself to the bone, and then effortless the blade was removed. A breath grazed his cheek once more as arms roughly shoved him back by the shoulders, both damaged and undamaged, and he hit the floor hard, collapsing onto his uninjured side. The footsteps made hardly a sound as they retreated down the corridor with practiced haste.
"Nice playing with you, kitten."