Tenipuri: (FIC) Imperfect Contrition
Title: Imperfect Contrition
Pairing: Osamu/Gin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Knowing that it's wrong doesn't mean as much as it should.
Contains: Underage sex.
For: whisper132. I wanted to write one of the fics I owed you. (I sorta did.) Okay. Your recent drabble (you know the one) got me thinking. And it inspired this. I hope you like it.
It's been a while since Osamu's slept through the night. Even bone-deep exhaustion doesn't help. If anything, it makes it worse due to where it comes from. When he wakes, suddenly, he's sweatier than when he fell asleep and can't turn his brain off long enough to get any rest. Quite frankly, he's not sure he deserves it anyhow.
He closes his eyes, squeezing them shut, and presses his face against the pillow. Strong hands grip his hips, cock thrusting loud and fast inside him. Under the rattle of the semi-functioning air conditioner, he can make out the sound of his name being whispered over and over again like a mantra.
Osamu's orgasm crashes over him unexpectedly and for a few seconds, his brain is silent. Moments later, he feels a sloppy kiss against the nape of his neck and a soft cock slipping from his body. He slumps all the way down, now, and barely has the energy to turn his head.
"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Gin asks, as if Osamu might say no, as if he's ever said no to Gin ever, even (especially) when he should.
"Knock yourself out," he says, stops himself from saying 'kid', like he used to do. Regardless of how Gin looks, a kid is exactly what he is. (And telling himself that at least he's never fucked Gin never negates the fact that Gin has, in fact, fucked him, frequently.)
He wants to tell Gin to leave so he doesn't have to stare the weight of all his failings in the face. But he doesn't; he has yet to figure out a defense against Gin.
As soon as he hears the shower, Osamu rolls onto his back, stares at the ceiling. "Shit Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
Gin's bag is leaning against the wall, school uniform above it on a hanger. He's staying the night again. Distantly, Osamu wonders what Gin says to his parents about where he stays at night, but doesn't think too deeply. It'll only make the guilt heavier.
Minutes later, Gin reappears, towel around his waist, smile on his face, and says, "Your turn."
Osamu gets to his feet and stumbles his way to the bathroom, trying not to notice the far too familiar sensation of Gin's come dribbling down his thigh.
The shower's not nearly hot enough (he wants it scalding) even if it does wash the evidence from his skin. His skin remembers, however, and doesn't let him forget, even for a second.
When he comes back out, Gin's sprawled on the futon, waiting for him. Osamu takes a deep breath, and crawls in next to him. He tries not to scream when he feels Gin's arm around his waist. Especially because of how much he likes it.
~*~
Osamu sits in seiza as he waits for the tea to be poured. This is the only place he goes that still smiles on tradition. Gin's mother smiles at him as she fills his cup. "Gin's been doing so well in school lately. He tells me you spend a lot time with him, helping him. Thank you, Watanabe-sensei."
He picks up his cup, takes sip, and nearly chokes. The flavour of the tea is only familiar because of the many times he's tasted it on Gin's tongue.
Osamu smiles, makes polite conversation, and escapes as soon as possible.
Two hours later, the door to his house opens, and Gin comes in smiling. "My mother likes you."
He wonders how much she'd like him if she knew everything. He wonders how fast he'd find himself in a morgue somewhere if his dad found out. Instead of replying, he heads out to his balcony and lights a cigarette. The slight burn in his lungs is soothing, sweet nicotine flooding his system, but he can feel movement behind him.
"You shouldn't smoke," Gin says. "Come in and I'll make dinner."
Osamu crushes the cigarette before he even realises what he's doing and hates himself for doing exactly what Gin wants, again, even if it's for something so trivial as a cigarette. He reaches for his pack, wanting to smoke another, just because, but Gin's looking at him, staring at him, so he lets his hand drop, and comes back inside.
~*~
"I want to talk to you," Chitose says, hanging back after practice. Osamu sits up, pulling the hat off his face. The courts are empty. Everyone else, including Gin, must be in the locker room. Osamu doesn't pretend he doesn't know what this about.
"So talk, he says," replacing the hat on his head. Again, he's struck by how tired he feels, worn and thin around the edges. A part of him thinks maybe Chitose will hit him, and a larger part wants him to, hard. He doubts it, more because of fear of Gin's retribution than anything else. It's not like he hasn't earned at least a black eye.
"I don't understand…Ugh…Just don't hurt him."
Osamu looks at him. Chitose's expression is fierce, but resigned. In that moment, it all crashes down on him and almost can't stop himself from laughing. It bubbles up, hot and bitter in his throat, but he chokes it down. If anyone has the power to hurt anyone, it doesn't lie with him. "Hit the showers, kid," he says, but nods all the same. Chitose nods back and leaves.
He slumps back down on the bench and wonders just how his life became such a fucked up disaster.
Osamu knows what he needs to do. He needs to resign from his position. He needs to sit Gin down and explain why it all needs to end. He needs a drink.
Two hours and four beers later, Osamu stumbles home and is grateful his flat's empty. He sits on the coach and hopes he's brave enough to do what he needs to do.
Ten minutes later, the door opens and Gin comes in and looks at him.
"Osamu," he says, clearly happy, "I'm home." And just like that, his will crumbles down into nothing.
He smiles, swallows down his guilt and self-hate, and replies, "Welcome home."
Pairing: Osamu/Gin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Knowing that it's wrong doesn't mean as much as it should.
Contains: Underage sex.
For: whisper132. I wanted to write one of the fics I owed you. (I sorta did.) Okay. Your recent drabble (you know the one) got me thinking. And it inspired this. I hope you like it.
It's been a while since Osamu's slept through the night. Even bone-deep exhaustion doesn't help. If anything, it makes it worse due to where it comes from. When he wakes, suddenly, he's sweatier than when he fell asleep and can't turn his brain off long enough to get any rest. Quite frankly, he's not sure he deserves it anyhow.
He closes his eyes, squeezing them shut, and presses his face against the pillow. Strong hands grip his hips, cock thrusting loud and fast inside him. Under the rattle of the semi-functioning air conditioner, he can make out the sound of his name being whispered over and over again like a mantra.
Osamu's orgasm crashes over him unexpectedly and for a few seconds, his brain is silent. Moments later, he feels a sloppy kiss against the nape of his neck and a soft cock slipping from his body. He slumps all the way down, now, and barely has the energy to turn his head.
"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Gin asks, as if Osamu might say no, as if he's ever said no to Gin ever, even (especially) when he should.
"Knock yourself out," he says, stops himself from saying 'kid', like he used to do. Regardless of how Gin looks, a kid is exactly what he is. (And telling himself that at least he's never fucked Gin never negates the fact that Gin has, in fact, fucked him, frequently.)
He wants to tell Gin to leave so he doesn't have to stare the weight of all his failings in the face. But he doesn't; he has yet to figure out a defense against Gin.
As soon as he hears the shower, Osamu rolls onto his back, stares at the ceiling. "Shit Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
Gin's bag is leaning against the wall, school uniform above it on a hanger. He's staying the night again. Distantly, Osamu wonders what Gin says to his parents about where he stays at night, but doesn't think too deeply. It'll only make the guilt heavier.
Minutes later, Gin reappears, towel around his waist, smile on his face, and says, "Your turn."
Osamu gets to his feet and stumbles his way to the bathroom, trying not to notice the far too familiar sensation of Gin's come dribbling down his thigh.
The shower's not nearly hot enough (he wants it scalding) even if it does wash the evidence from his skin. His skin remembers, however, and doesn't let him forget, even for a second.
When he comes back out, Gin's sprawled on the futon, waiting for him. Osamu takes a deep breath, and crawls in next to him. He tries not to scream when he feels Gin's arm around his waist. Especially because of how much he likes it.
~*~
Osamu sits in seiza as he waits for the tea to be poured. This is the only place he goes that still smiles on tradition. Gin's mother smiles at him as she fills his cup. "Gin's been doing so well in school lately. He tells me you spend a lot time with him, helping him. Thank you, Watanabe-sensei."
He picks up his cup, takes sip, and nearly chokes. The flavour of the tea is only familiar because of the many times he's tasted it on Gin's tongue.
Osamu smiles, makes polite conversation, and escapes as soon as possible.
Two hours later, the door to his house opens, and Gin comes in smiling. "My mother likes you."
He wonders how much she'd like him if she knew everything. He wonders how fast he'd find himself in a morgue somewhere if his dad found out. Instead of replying, he heads out to his balcony and lights a cigarette. The slight burn in his lungs is soothing, sweet nicotine flooding his system, but he can feel movement behind him.
"You shouldn't smoke," Gin says. "Come in and I'll make dinner."
Osamu crushes the cigarette before he even realises what he's doing and hates himself for doing exactly what Gin wants, again, even if it's for something so trivial as a cigarette. He reaches for his pack, wanting to smoke another, just because, but Gin's looking at him, staring at him, so he lets his hand drop, and comes back inside.
~*~
"I want to talk to you," Chitose says, hanging back after practice. Osamu sits up, pulling the hat off his face. The courts are empty. Everyone else, including Gin, must be in the locker room. Osamu doesn't pretend he doesn't know what this about.
"So talk, he says," replacing the hat on his head. Again, he's struck by how tired he feels, worn and thin around the edges. A part of him thinks maybe Chitose will hit him, and a larger part wants him to, hard. He doubts it, more because of fear of Gin's retribution than anything else. It's not like he hasn't earned at least a black eye.
"I don't understand…Ugh…Just don't hurt him."
Osamu looks at him. Chitose's expression is fierce, but resigned. In that moment, it all crashes down on him and almost can't stop himself from laughing. It bubbles up, hot and bitter in his throat, but he chokes it down. If anyone has the power to hurt anyone, it doesn't lie with him. "Hit the showers, kid," he says, but nods all the same. Chitose nods back and leaves.
He slumps back down on the bench and wonders just how his life became such a fucked up disaster.
Osamu knows what he needs to do. He needs to resign from his position. He needs to sit Gin down and explain why it all needs to end. He needs a drink.
Two hours and four beers later, Osamu stumbles home and is grateful his flat's empty. He sits on the coach and hopes he's brave enough to do what he needs to do.
Ten minutes later, the door opens and Gin comes in and looks at him.
"Osamu," he says, clearly happy, "I'm home." And just like that, his will crumbles down into nothing.
He smiles, swallows down his guilt and self-hate, and replies, "Welcome home."