When I Fall Ch. 01byChantal Marchon©
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.
“So what did you think of the blood fetish act?” The bartender sidled up and asked curiously. Sizing up the unfamiliar customer.
“It was incredible.” Ken managed to get out with a faint blush covering his cheeks. He never understood what had possessed Omi to buy him a membership to a fetish/BDSM club. But now he was glad his friend had.
“There is a host over behind that desk that can explain how different parts of the club work and can help you find your way around.” She told him helpfully.
“Thanks.” He looked around for the first time noticing the large number of people wearing latex, leather and cosplay outfits. He felt a little out of place and slightly awkward now that he wasn’t watching the stage any longer. He picked his way through the people, carefully not staring as some of the people were acting out their own favorite fetishes. It was a place where the sexually repressed would probably die of heart failure. The host was dressed in a pair of black leather pants and a studded collar, nipple rings decorated his chest and his hair was dyed a deep black.
“How can I help?” The man was surprisingly polite.
“Well, umm, I’m new here. A friend bought the membership for me as a gift and I really don’t know what I’m doing.” Ken stuttered.
“I see. The club is focused on providing its members a safe outlet for their fantasies. We Cater to many different types of fetishes. All members must be of legal age and here by their own consent. If you have a particular type of fantasy then you can schedule an appointment with one of the masters or you can sign up as the dominant. However, since you are new that would have to be a supervised session. You can sign up for either submissive or dominance training and information sessions also. If you have a partner or partners who are involved in your fetishes you are able to bring in up to two adults of legal age in with you as guests. We have private and semi-public rooms available for acting out sessions and as you can see. Some members will proceed with tamer ones in full view of the entire club. It really is up to you.”
“Hmm. Would it be possible to schedule something with the person who was just on stage?” Ken asked nervously.
“Maybe. I won’t say no, but he is extremely selective in whom he chooses as a submissive. I can send him a message if he hasn’t left yet and ask. Would you prefer a private room?”
“Yes, please. Let me write a separate note for him to go with yours.”
“Sure.” The host handed him a notepad and small envelope.
Ken wrote one small sentence. “Would Berserker like to play with a Siberian cat?” He carefully sealed the paper into the envelope. He knew that the question would definitely get Farfarello’s attention.
The innocent looking assassin stood at the host’s desk for a few minutes waiting for a reply. A blond haired girl dressed in a skimpy outfit with lots of bondage gear approached. “Come with me please. Master Dante has consented to see you this evening and I was instructed to prepare you.” She said no more as she led the way through the club and into a darkened hallway lit poorly by eerie wall sconces. The room she showed Ken into was red with white candles spread over tables and even set on the floor. A pretty , somewhat haunting room. “You are very priveledged. Master Dante does not usually see anyone after he performs on stage and he must think highly of you to request this room. It is one of the nicest in the club.” The blond smiled slightly and motioned him to enter. “You need to take off your clothes.” She informed him. He blushed bright red. “Don’t worry, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. I am just following the master’s orders and you need to do this as well.”
“OK.” He said feeling trepidation. ‘What have I got myself into now.’ He thought to himself. ‘God Ken, always jumping in feet first without checking the depth.’ With increasing nervousness, Ken removed his clothing.
Holding him around the wrist the girl guided him to stand between two solid metal pillars and fastened straps around his wrists, adjusting them so that they held his arms above his head. She then clasped restraints around his ankles and attached them to large D rings in the pillars forcing him to spread his legs an uncomfortable distance apart and to hold up part of his weight by his restrained wrists. She slipped a solid leather blindfold over his eyes, blocking out the room.
Ken heard her leave and lock the door behind her. It seemed that he waited for an eternity before he heard the lock click again and someone with very light steps walk into the room. A cool hand brushed over his back and circled to his chest making him jump at the unexpected touch.
“Why are you here, with me? Why did you request me?” Farfarello asked in a voice barely above a whisper.