Remix: Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold (The Everything Has a Price Remix) [Crawford/Schuldig, 373 words, rated NC-17], by moontyger
His bedroom was dark, but Crawford could still make out the suit he'd worn earlier, hanging on his closet door as though he might actually wear it again, despite the black smears he more remembered than saw at the moment – smears he knew would never come out of the expensive fabric. He should have thrown it away; tomorrow, he probably will. He'd always been ruthlessly practical; his plans allowed no room for the sort of sentimentality he mocked others for feeling.
But then, he hadn't kept it even this long for sentimental reasons. He'd kept it for the reminder, not of emotions, but of the way Schuldig had looked bent over an engine in tight jeans and no shirt. For the memory of a mind wrapped too tight around his, forcing an obedience he'd often faked, but never willingly offered.
That, of course, hadn't changed. Even as the memory excited him, as he shifted in his bed to more easily slide one hand inside his boxers, lust was coupled with a lingering anger, an emotion too cold to be called rage, but not so far removed from it. His fingers curled around his cock, expertly squeezing and stroking, but what he saw behind closed eyes was no longer the way Schuldig had looked covered in grease and sweat. The remembered sensation of those dirty hands on him receded, replaced by the darker pleasure of the slap that had followed, the way he'd taken him against the car, rough and unyielding.
Of course, that wasn't nearly enough punishment for what he'd done. For Schuldig, that was practically reinforcement of his behavior. No, sterner measures were called for, at least if Crawford intended to maintain discipline, a matter which obviously wasn't in question. Even as he came, hips thrusting up hard into the friction of his hand, he was already considering his response. The suit would be thrown away like the trash it had become, the physical evidence of the day erased, but his revenge would be longer lasting, something Schuldig wouldn't soon forget. As he drifted toward sleep, his lips curled into a small, satisfied smile at the visions of exactly how his retribution would be enacted. Yes, it promised to be quite satisfactory.