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scriveynerTitle: Absolution
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Gates'verse
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Kanata
Rating: NSFW
Length: 607
Summary: The thing about Kanata was that Kanata would keep pushing him until he broke.
The thing about Kanata, Gotou realized dimly as Kanata slid his fingers out of Gotou’s mouth slick with saliva, was that Kanata would keep pushing him until he broke. It was a sudden revelation, crystal-clear in that moment; one of Kanata’s hands tight on the muscle that joined neck to shoulder, the other trailing down his side, skating feather-light across his skin. Kanata was finding the edges, feeling out the jagged bits that were lurking there, pushing down on them to see if they’d break to the surface. Masayoshi was easy, he knew, Masayoshi didn’t bother to hide his emotions, Masayoshi would face these feelings without guile or deception and that Kanata would delight in picking him apart, bringing him to his knees, forcing Masayoshi to bow and beg for his eventual release.
Gotou would fight him, and that kept him fascinated. Gotou kept his emotions hidden deep, encased in a glass heart locked behind walls of concrete. Kanata would move over him, slide his hands down Gotou’s sides, whisper poisoned nothings into his ear, murmurs and breath, hands splayed on Gotou’s hips, eyes that same disarming nimble blue, wide and wicked in a way that Masayoshi’s never would be. He didn’t taste the same – it wasn’t something Gotou could articulate, but his scent was subtly different, enough that Gotou could tell them apart by taste now, dragging his tongue up the underside of Kanata’s cock and licking him clean as Kanata watched him with a smirk.
Sex was just that, sex. They’d fuck, hard enough that the headboard had scored marks into the wall, and they’d smoke after and shoot the shit and Gotou could just feel Kanata’s dissatisfaction. He wanted to be let in, he wanted to find the cracks in that concrete edifice and dig his fingers in, breaking it apart one crumbling handful at a time. Gotou ignored his attempts – ignored how violent the sex got, sometimes, Kanata’s hands on his neck and fire in his eyes, Gotou’s breath burning in his lungs – because no one got through that wall. He’d lay on his side in the bed after, bruised and sore, back to Kanata as he sat on the floor and smoked Gotou’s cigarettes angrily. Gotou would text Her then, Kanata’s come still leaking out of his ass and another wound carved into the facade.
He needed this in a way he couldn’t have with Masayoshi. He couldn’t pin Masayoshi to the mattress, eyes wide and innocent still, even tinged with the haze of sex he couldn’t call him the things that made Kanata hiss in pleasure. Kanata writhed beneath him, fingernails scoring marks into his skin as Gotou fucked him raw. Kanata pushed him, and he pushed back.
Masayoshi could never see this side of him. Maybe he would understand, but Gotou wouldn’t count on that; sitting naked and bleeding next to Kanata on the floor, sharing the last cigarette in the cartoon, lips bruised and hips aching but deeply satiated.
When Kanata dropped the butt of the cigarette into the empty beer can and leaned forward, voice scraped raw, and told Gotou exactly what was going to happen next Gotou didn’t even blink. He just wet his lips and smirked, head tilted back and chin angled defiantly.
Kanata hadn’t found his breaking point, yet.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Gates'verse
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Kanata
Rating: NSFW
Length: 607
Summary: The thing about Kanata was that Kanata would keep pushing him until he broke.
The thing about Kanata, Gotou realized dimly as Kanata slid his fingers out of Gotou’s mouth slick with saliva, was that Kanata would keep pushing him until he broke. It was a sudden revelation, crystal-clear in that moment; one of Kanata’s hands tight on the muscle that joined neck to shoulder, the other trailing down his side, skating feather-light across his skin. Kanata was finding the edges, feeling out the jagged bits that were lurking there, pushing down on them to see if they’d break to the surface. Masayoshi was easy, he knew, Masayoshi didn’t bother to hide his emotions, Masayoshi would face these feelings without guile or deception and that Kanata would delight in picking him apart, bringing him to his knees, forcing Masayoshi to bow and beg for his eventual release.
Gotou would fight him, and that kept him fascinated. Gotou kept his emotions hidden deep, encased in a glass heart locked behind walls of concrete. Kanata would move over him, slide his hands down Gotou’s sides, whisper poisoned nothings into his ear, murmurs and breath, hands splayed on Gotou’s hips, eyes that same disarming nimble blue, wide and wicked in a way that Masayoshi’s never would be. He didn’t taste the same – it wasn’t something Gotou could articulate, but his scent was subtly different, enough that Gotou could tell them apart by taste now, dragging his tongue up the underside of Kanata’s cock and licking him clean as Kanata watched him with a smirk.
Sex was just that, sex. They’d fuck, hard enough that the headboard had scored marks into the wall, and they’d smoke after and shoot the shit and Gotou could just feel Kanata’s dissatisfaction. He wanted to be let in, he wanted to find the cracks in that concrete edifice and dig his fingers in, breaking it apart one crumbling handful at a time. Gotou ignored his attempts – ignored how violent the sex got, sometimes, Kanata’s hands on his neck and fire in his eyes, Gotou’s breath burning in his lungs – because no one got through that wall. He’d lay on his side in the bed after, bruised and sore, back to Kanata as he sat on the floor and smoked Gotou’s cigarettes angrily. Gotou would text Her then, Kanata’s come still leaking out of his ass and another wound carved into the facade.
He needed this in a way he couldn’t have with Masayoshi. He couldn’t pin Masayoshi to the mattress, eyes wide and innocent still, even tinged with the haze of sex he couldn’t call him the things that made Kanata hiss in pleasure. Kanata writhed beneath him, fingernails scoring marks into his skin as Gotou fucked him raw. Kanata pushed him, and he pushed back.
Masayoshi could never see this side of him. Maybe he would understand, but Gotou wouldn’t count on that; sitting naked and bleeding next to Kanata on the floor, sharing the last cigarette in the cartoon, lips bruised and hips aching but deeply satiated.
When Kanata dropped the butt of the cigarette into the empty beer can and leaned forward, voice scraped raw, and told Gotou exactly what was going to happen next Gotou didn’t even blink. He just wet his lips and smirked, head tilted back and chin angled defiantly.
Kanata hadn’t found his breaking point, yet.
