Playing the Part:
Part One


The tall redhead leaned back against the folds of the cushy leather sofa and spread vinyl-clad legs slightly. "Come sit on my lap and kiss me," he ordered, pouty lips curving into a sultry smirk.

Hidaka Ken scowled. He didn’t know whom to blame for this stupid mess he’d gotten himself into; Yohji his skanky, two-timing ex-boyfriend, those jerks at the club who’d tried to rape him, himself, or this weirdo, sexy German guy.

~Sexy, hell ya. Weirdo I resent~

Make that a weirdo, sexy German mind-reader. Ken kept forgetting that the redhead was a telepath, a fact that usually led to embarrassing repercussions. Like when he’d tried to convince him that he wasn’t really gay. The German had pulled the file on Yohji so fast it had nearly made his head spin.

"Well?" Long fingers patted slender thighs. "I’m waiting for you, Ken."

"I don’t see why I hafta do this," Ken whined, fidgeting with the hem of his tight, black T-shirt. "You can have anyone you want! Why does it hafta be me?"

"Because you owe me, that’s why." Indolent jade eyes capture his own. "As I recall, you were in quite the tight spot, before I came along."

"I didn’t ask for your help," Ken grumbled.

"No you didn’t," the telepath agreed. "But you got it and now you owe me. Besides, it isn’t as though this is permanent. We just need to practice a bit."

Ken flushed. "I’m not in the habit of...practicing with complete strangers."

"I’m not a stranger. I’m Schuldich, your savior." Flashing eyes darkened. "Now get your tight little ass over here and kiss me!"

Ken fidgeting a bit longer and then reluctantly began a slow trudge over to the other man. Yohji, he decided. It was all Yohji’s fault. If he hadn’t gone to the 'Electropolis' night club to find out if Yohji was cheating on him, than he wouldn’t be standing in the Schuldich’s elegant penthouse apartment about to kiss him!

"Forget about that cheating boyfriend of yours," Schuldich drawled out, interrupting his flow of thoughts. "He’s nothing but a deceitful bastard and you know it."

Ken swallowed thickly. "Y-yeah."

The wounds were still so fresh but he had to forget about them. Yohji didn’t want him and there was nothing he could do about it. Ken steeled himself. The best way to forget about Yohji was to focus upon Schuldich and agree to his strange request.

He brushed jagged bangs from his eyes and stopped in front of the seat man.

~Well?~

He awkwardly slid onto the German’s lap and straddled him, his bent knees flanking the other man’s hips. He stared down into smoldering green eyes and tried not to think about how uncomfortable the situation was.

"Now kiss me."

Ken squirmed uncomfortably. "Uh...I’m not too heavy, am I?" he asked evasively, struggling not to blush.

"You’re just fine," the German purred, long finger reaching to curve around Ken’s waist. Schuldich’s other hand lightly touched his cheek. "You’ve got a bruise forming. Does it still hurt?"

"Not anymore." Ken fretted for a moment, unsure of where to put his hands. He finally settled for placing them lightly on Schuldich’s shoulders. He met the other man’s gaze. "Thanks again for saving me. If you hadn’t come along when you did then those guys might have...well you know."

"Not a problem since I’m getting what I want from you." Schuldich caressed his cheek with silky fingertips. "Clubbing isn’t your scene, is it?"

"Tonight was the first time I’d ever been clubbing," Ken confessed forlornly. "I’m not one for dancing and drinking and stuff."

A fine red brow arched. "That’s more Yohji’s scene, neh?"

"Don’t mention his name," Ken snapped, hiding his hurt behind anger. He didn’t ever want to see or hear about or from Kudou Yohji again. The image of *his* boyfriend kissing a blue plate-eyed, ginger-haired, practically jailbait, kid in shorts was engraved in his mind. It had hurt and it had hurt bad. "I could care less about that lying asshole."

"So you’re over him?" Schuldich asked, his voice dripping with repressed humor.

"Don’t patronize me," Ken snarled. "I am over him!"

"Prove it," he challenged, green eyes locking with cinnamon.

Ken narrowed his eyes. He would prove it. Yohji was worth nothing to him anymore. He didn’t care!

He leaned forward and kissed Schuldich.

The shock of kissing a mouth that *wasn’t* Yohji was so drastic that Ken very nearly pulled away. But long hands pulled him close and held him firm and Ken found himself relaxing. Schuldich’s mouth was exotic, tasting of tart green apple and something alcoholic. He was tangy while Yohji was sweetness, lime to strawberry.

Though Ken initiated the kiss, Schuldich dominated it. His tongue lapped at closed lips, surprising Ken into opening his mouth. As the redhead explored his mouth solidly with drenched licks, Ken found that he liked how Schuldich tasted. He tightened his arms around the German and met his tongue. Their kiss intensified.

"Not bad," Schuldich drawled out, when their kiss had ended. "You and I are gonna do just fine."

Ken gasped for air. His forehead fell against the redhead’s. "I’ve never done anything like this before," he wheezed, his heart racing.

"That’s why you’ll be staying with me for the week," Schuldich said. "So we can make this work."

"Nani?!!" Ken’s shock was so great that he started and lost his balance. He fell off Schuldich’s lap and onto his ass on the thick, vanilla carpet. "Itai," he groaned.

"You okay?" Schuldich asked, peering down at him.

Ken jumped to his feet. "Don’t change the subject!" he snapped. "I’m not staying with you! I have my own apartment and a job and I’m not gonna leave everything behind just so I can learn how to be your boyfriend!"

Schuldich leaned back against the sofa and ran a hand through fiery locks. "Did I mention that I’d pay you?"

"I’m not some kind of cheap whore!"

"In US funds?"

"No!"

"You’re a couple of months behind on your rent, aren’t you?" Schuldich remarked casually. "Coaching soccer is a great summer job but it doesn’t pay well does it? And what’s gonna happen when you go back to university? Loans pile up you know. But the amount I’ll pay you will jerk you straight out of debt hell." He smirked, reading the Japanese boy’s thoughts. He had forgotten, yet again, that he could read minds. "You can’t hide anything from a telepath, Kenny boy."

It would have been all too easy for Ken to accept the proposal but his conscience wouldn’t allow it because he didn’t deserve it. "I understand why you’re doing all this," Ken began slowly. "And I understand that you’d pay for it. But what I don’t understand is why you want me. Saving me at the club was an accident on your part and it was very nice of you to bring me here and patch me up but there are only hundreds of people more qualified than me. I really don’t think this Bradley guy will get jealous if he sees me with you and isn’t that the whole point of this sham? He’ll probably laugh and ask you what you’re doing with a loser like me."

"You’ve got a too low self-esteem, Ken," Schuldich pointed out. "That’s something we’ll have to work on."

"I don’t wanna work on anything!" Ken cried, the redhead’s calm tone infuriating him. "I just wanna go home!"

Schuldich stood up and caught his chin. "Forget about Yohji. Forget about Kase and Ran. Just because you’ve had a bit of bad luck in the love department doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. They were the jerks not you."

Ken wrenched away. "I don’t want to talk about them."

"Alright then, we’ll talk in the morning," he soothed. "It’s late now and you need your rest. Come with me and-"

"I said I wanna go home!" Ken interrupted, glaring.

"Your place is far from here," Schuldich reminded him patiently. "And you’re still a bit banged up. Why don’t you just spend the night? You can sleep in Bradley’s room. It’s got a lock and everything. Then, in the morning, we’ll work out all the details."

Ken sighed. He was tired and if the truth be known, which Schuldich more than likely did know, he really didn’t want to go all the way across Tokyo back to his apartment in the middle of the night. "Fine. But that doesn’t mean I agree to staying here for a week."

"We’ll see," the German replied unconcerned. "Now come on."

Ken followed Schuldich from the huge living room and down an elegantly decorated hallway. Schuldich entered the second room on the right and flipped on the light switch. The room was gigantic, at least three of Ken’s room could have fit into it. It was decorated in tones of maroon and black and was meticulously neat.

"Bradley’s a real neat freak," Schuldich explained conversationally. "Don’t touch anything, especially anything on his desk and you should be fine. Just make sure you make the bed when you wake up. He hates an unmade bed."

Ken gawked at the tidy, lofty room. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asked apprehensively. "What if he comes back suddenly? Or what if I mess something up? Or what-"

"I told you, he won’t be coming back until next week," Schuldich said. "He’s in Canada on business. Now stop worrying and go to sleep."

"Fine," Ken muttered, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "G’night then."

To his surprise, Schuldich pressed a brief kiss on his forehead. "Good night Ken."

And then he was gone, leaving Ken in a stranger’s ultra-urbane room.

"Well shit," he muttered.

He stripped out of his black T-shirt and orange cargo pants and black socks and folded them neatly. He piled them on one corner of the massive king-sized bed and then shuffled across the maroon carpet to switch off the light. He hurried back to the bed, shivering in only his boxers.

As tired as he was, sleep eluded him for a long while. He stared up at the ceiling, covered in a slightly stiff comforter that smelled of newness and expensive cologne. The silence was uncomfortable and he missed Yohji.

For a month and a half he’d been Yohji’s boyfriend. He had regained his confidence with Yohji, something that had been shattered after his messy break-up with his previous boyfriend, Fujimiya Ran.

And now, once again, he was alone. And Yohji was probably with that cute, blue-eyed boy.

~I can’t help myself from loving you Kenken because you’re so sweet and giving.~

Ken cried himself to sleep on a burgundy pillow that wasn’t his own under the weight of astringent memories.