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Brad rubbed at his forehead, the lines of tension etched deeply in his flesh. Another bad day, anticipated and lived through with no chance for improvement. At least he'd have a few days off to recover from it; otherwise, he'd just have to go shoot Takatori right now and damn the consequences.
"Hey." Schuldig let himself into Brad's office and shut the door quietly. "Can I help?"
"Turn the calendar forward to about, oh, March next year," Brad whispered, dropping his glasses on the desk and closing his eyes. "Or convince Esset that now's the time to get rid of a certain bumbling politician."
"It's all about time, isn't it?" Schuldig murmured thoughtfully. He picked up the discarded glasses and began wiping them clean on his shirt. "You need rest, Brad."
"I'm resting now."
"No you're not." Schuldig gently touched the other man's cheek, urging him to open bleary eyes. "You're replaying everything, watching the future unspool ahead of us and dying a little more each day because of it."
"Schuldig…"
"Hush." The telepath set the now-clean glasses back on the desk, then moved around to Brad's side. He pushed the chair back, rolling it smoothly across the acrylic static guard until it touched the wall. Setting himself firmly between Brad and the desk, Schuldig leaned down and cupped Brad's face between slender hands. "Let me help."
"You can't."
"Yes," Schuldig whispered, bending lower to kiss Brad's overdry lips, "I can. Give me just a few precious minutes, and I'll show you how well you'll sleep tonight." He slid downward until he knelt at Brad's feet, then began deliberatly unbuckling the other's belt.
"Stop it, Schuldig," Brad protested, but with very little conviction. He wasn't in the mood; in a moment, the red-head would notice how not-in-the-mood he was and give up.
But when skillful fingers freed him from his trousers and warm breath caressed his skin, Brad felt himself respond with more urgency than he'd given himself credit for. He frowned, half at his failure to dissuade the telepath and half in puzzlement that the vision had been so patently wrong.
"Something wrong, Brad?" Schuldig purred, nuzzling the balls before running his tongue along a quickly hardening shaft.
"I, er…"
"Trust me," Schuldig whispered. "I'm your second, and your lover. Just let go, and trust me."
That hot mouth closed over Brad's cock, preempting any sort of reply he might have tried to give. Shaky hands dropped down to tangle in fire-bright hair, silently giving thanks and asking for more.
Schuldig nibbled below the flare of the head, teasing the old-fashioned American scar with his teeth – foreskin or no, the nerves beneath responded. Flesh tensed and grew stiffer as blood flooded the tissues, darkening the shaft and head. Lazily, leisurely, Schuldig swirled his tongue around the tip as though tasting a sweet.
Brad groaned; the unexpected action had sent sparks through his body.
Savoring the moment, the telepath closed his mouth around the head and suckled, one hand gripping the shaft and beginning a slow stroke while his other took a small tube from his pocket. Snapping the lid open, he fumbled a moment then managed to squeeze a bit of lube onto his fingers. He dropped the still-open tube to the acrylic mat and concentrated on his plan.
Mouth and hand made a tight, hot sleeve, pleasuring Brad thoroughly enough that he didn't notice the other hand slipping between his legs until the slick fingertip began pressing inward. He jumped, but there was nowhere to go. "Schuldig!"
In reply, the telepath sucked deliberately and murmured, "Mmmhmmmm?"
Brad stilled under the onslaught of sensation, his breathing ragged. He tensed again as that finger repeated its probe, but the pleasure balancing it held him so delicately that he found himself relaxing against his usual nature.
Schuldig moved slowly, gently, so as not to harm or even startle Brad again. He slid one finger inward, rocking it back and forth until the muscle eased around it. He moaned softly around Brad's cock and tried for a second finger.
Brad gasped and clutched at the red hair. His hips bucked, pressing him onto that hand and into that mouth in alternating rhythm. When Schuldig's long slender fingers pressed their mark, Brad growled low in his throat and tensed.
That tongue didn't give him the chance to deal with the newest level of sensation: it swirled, hot and wet and demanding, urging him to…
::Let go…::
A strangled cry echoed off the walls as Brad came in crashing waves of ecstasy. He flooded Schuldig's mouth, spilling out onto his chair and trousers as the fingers fucked him to untried heights. He felt his body clench around the unaccustomed presence, squeezing it, riding it in an unanticipated thrill of release, and he wondered if he was about to faint.
Schuldig chuckled softly around him, gave him one last lick, then swiped Brad's handkerchief and began wiping up the mess. ::Feel better?::
Fingers trembling, Brad gently touched the other man's cheek. "You surprised me," he admitted. "All this week has been plotted out, yet you managed to sneak in and do something completely off the chart."
"Of course I did," Schuldig murmured, rising to kiss Brad firmly on the mouth. "I only got the idea to do this when I walked into your office tonight, and I didn't give you time to think about it."
Brad scowled at him. "Still…"
Schuldig smiled, a warm and loving smile reserved for this strong and weary man. "You're not the only one who can counteract a psi talent."
Brad Crawford blinked, momentarily stunned as he tested his Sight and found it…gone. A soft curtain closed it away, a curtain woven in Schuldig's tell-tale vulpine red.
Before the Oracle could react, Schuldig placed a finger across the man's lips, his own smile never faltering. "You have no idea what I have planned for the rest of the night, do you?" He held out his free hand in invitation. "Trust me?"