Smut Dump
So...in writing the 100 fanfics for the challenge I'm doing, I've built up a bunch of backlogged ideas. Most of which are porn. Because I can never seem to properly incorporate these ideas into any of the prompts, I've put the challenge on pause for a bit to get all of this smut out of my head. And I figure I'll post it here as I finish writing it. Because until I get rid of it all, it's going to keep influencing my prompt writing, and all of them will start sounding the same... >>;;
Title: Any time, Anywhere
Author: selvanic
Series: DOGS
Word Count: 2,192
Characters/Pairings: Heine/Badou
Rating: M; it's a smut dump, these are nothing but sex. And foul language in this one.
Summary: Sometimes, the sex just had to happen.
Heine would blame the adrenaline. Badou would say it was because he didn't want to wind up mauled for telling Heine 'no'. Regardless of the reason, it happened. At some point, for one reason or another, in the midst of bullet riddled walls and bodies, with broken glass and pools of blood on the floor, they'd find themselves wrapped around one another in a mess of teeth and tongues and nails.
There was something addicting about it, something heady and irresistible. There was something about knowing what they'd just done, what they'd just survived, that heightened their desire that much more. But it was only under certain circumstances, and Heine was starting to notice a pattern. He was fairly sure he was close to figuring out just what it was that set them off.
As the last body hit the ground, the sound of the gunshot still echoing through the crumbling underground parking lot, the gunman could feel the rush of his adrenaline slowly dying down. He surveyed the resulting carnage critically, making sure they hadn't missed anything, when he noticed a certain someone leaning heavily against one of the still standing cement pillars.
His stupid partner had managed to get shot. Again.
Crossing the distance between them, stepping over piles of crumpled bodies - some more identifiable than others - the only sound aside from the metallic clinking that seemed to follow Heine everywhere was the frustrated grumbling coming from the injured redhead.
“Where'd they get you this time, moron?” He'd never professed to being a caring partner.
Badou threw him a dirty look, gesturing curtly to his right thigh. “How about the bleeding hole in my leg, asshole? You think that might be it?”
Rolling his eyes, Heine leaned over and examined the offending injury. “Looks like it's still in there. There's no exit wound.”
“Thank God you're a fucking doctor.” The irritable ginger swatted the albino upside the back of the head, frowning heavily as he did. “Because you know I can't feel the damn thing lodged in there!”
Heine growled and batted Badou's arm away. “You're such a little bitch when you get hurt...”
Grumbling under his breath, the information broker leaned heavily against the pillar and stared at the wound in open frustration. “Yeah, well, if shit ever stuck to you, I bet you'd bitch too.”
The gunman rolled his eyes, dropping to his knees and flipping a switchblade out of his pocket. “Then let's get it out.”
Badou made an indelicate noise, flailing as best as an injured man could and grabbing Heine's wrist. “You're not an actual doctor, you lunatic. Put that away.”
Heine snorted and looked up at the other man. “Doctor or not, I know that leaving that thing in there will make it worse. So you either let me get it out, or you lose that leg.”
Locking his jaw, the redhead seemed to honestly weigh the choices before turning to stare at the wall. “Fine. But if you hack me open, I'm gonna kick your ass.”
“If I hack you open, you won't be able to kick anything.”
Heine smiled crookedly, ignoring the noise his comment had earned and making short work of Badou's pant leg. With that out of the way, he had access to the wound itself. It wasn't bad...Probably just a handgun. He applied careful pressure around the hole with his free hand, using the tip of the knife to fish for the bullet. His partner yelped and whined, clearly trying not to squirm as one hand found its way into Heine's hair. He supposed he couldn't blame Badou, but if the stupid ginger pulled, the hole was going to get bigger...Still, this wasn't necessarily the first time he'd had to do this, and after several minutes of bitching and choked off threats, there was the small clatter of the bullet hitting the ground.
Heine sat back as he finished, tucking his knife away with a sigh. “There. Done.”
“Precision surgeon you're not...” Badou whined, tentatively putting pressure on the leg before giving up shortly after. “I think you made it worse...”
Rolling his eyes and tearing a strip of fabric from the pant leg he'd already destroyed, the gunman wrapped the wound a little tighter than was probably necessary. If only because he couldn't leave well enough alone. “Tell me that when you're using it to run away in a couple of days.”
“I will, because it'll probably get me caught, and you'd owe me a rescue.”
“When don't I owe you a rescue?” Heine snorted and frowned up at the redhead, drumming his fingers expectantly against the other's leg.
Flinching with obvious dramatics, Badou caught the pale digits in his own hand and huffed shortly. “First of all, stop touching that. Secondly, you owe me the god damn rescue because you're usually the reason I'm there in the first place.”
Heine's attention was momentarily diverted by the feeling of his partner all but holding his hand, a thin smile crossing his lips. “Uh huh. Sure. You tell yourself that.”
“Would you focus please?” A quick kick of Badou's foot to the albino's side was added to the 'request'. “You're going to get me killed one of these days. I mean, lookit my leg. If that'd hit the fucking artery, I'd be bleeding to death as we speak.”
Normally, Heine would have fought back against the kick, would have countered the accusation with a short rebuttal of his own. But, as was occasionally the case, he caught himself thinking instead. Badou had a point. The people who'd shot his partner - he couldn't very well pinpoint which one it was now - hadn't been after the redhead. They'd been after him. Hell, most of the time they were. And Badou got dragged into it, because the moron had thought, long ago, that their teaming up would be for the best. Heine just hadn't expected it to last this long.
“Hey. Earth to Heine.” Badou's foot nudged against the gunman's side again, jarring the man out of his momentary lapse. “The fuck are you doing down there?”
“Thinking, asshole. You should try it sometime.” Despite his tone, Heine leaned forward enough to rest his forehead against his partner's hip. “If you did, you wouldn't get killed because of me.”
A beat of silence passed between them, broken only by the sharp flick of Badou's lighter as the man went for his fix. “It's been a while since I've seen you worry, pup. It's kinda freakin' me out.”
Heine scoffed and bit down on his partner's hip, earning a noise lost somewhere between a yelp and a curse. This was always how it went. Something happened that gave one of them a scare, the other worried out loud, the first pointed it out, and frustrated, desperate, sex was used to cover up the slip. It was no doubt a pattern both of them had figured out, but neither of them wanted to point it out. They'd take what they could get...In the world they lived in, it was sometimes the only personal time they got with one another.
The redhead's pants were pulled away after impatient maneuvering, the information broker's whining about his leg putting a noticeable damper on the albino's mood. Things weren't stalled for long, pale hands taking hold of narrow hips while a series of shameless kisses and love-bites were brushed over every inch of newly exposed leg. Shuddering breaths and the shift of fabric against concrete filled the silence of the parking lot, the thick stench of blood quickly forgotten as they gave into the sheer need for one another.
“F-Fuck, Heine...~” Badou moaned hungrily, curling one hand in the gunman's hair and tugging, trying to goad the other man into giving him what he wanted.
While Heine wasn't necessarily known for being an obedient dog, he found he became more amenable to his partner's requests when he was near seconds away from simply jumping the redhead. And the pull was all it took to set the albino's mouth to work, tongue sliding hungrily from base to tip of Badou's swollen cock. Every inch of the shaft was paid deliberate attention, the smoker's hands finding Heine's shoulders and digging in almost painfully in their attempt to keep their owner upright as pale lips wrapped around the flushed head. No time was wasted on pleasantries, the gunman's tongue swirling briefly around the ridge before setting in to work in earnest. As little as Heine wanted to admit, part of him was addicted to the taste of his partner's cock.
Badou's voice echoed almost deafeningly around them as the albino bobbed his head, the ginger all but buckled in half and relying almost entirely on the cement pillar to keep his feet about him. There was no shame here, no restraint or hesitance, no pussyfooting around some stupid thing or another. They could bicker before, could bitch afterward, and could worry about being mocked by one another when their clothes were on. They'd long since agreed that during sex - regardless of time or location - snide comments would be put on hold.
Heine pulled back at the first bitter pang of the other's building release, lapping briefly at the weeping head and turning his eyes up. He could feel his own cock twitch as he took in the look on his partner's face, a low, predatory, growl building in the back of his throat in response to how damn edible Badou looked. The small, breathless, whimper that escaped the shivering redhead was just the thing to top it off.
However, as he made to pull Badou down into his lap, Heine's efforts were met with surprising resistance. The gunman's eyes narrowed sharply, fingers biting into his partner's hips. He was in no state for coherent conversation, and they'd both learned to read one another's body language.
Badou huffed shortly, shaking his head and glaring right back, despite the color in his face. “Y-You're not fucking me on the same floor that's covered in a dozen dead bodies...” He licked his lips nervously, hands trembling slightly where they were resting on Heine's shoulders. “Just...Just finish what you started, get me home, and we can go nuts.”
Heine frowned slightly and shifted to try and alleviate some of the rather damning pressure his position had his pants providing. “What about my hard-on, asshole? This isn't all about you.”
“Fuck, Heine, I'll do something about it later...” The smoker's hands curled that much tighter in the leather of the albino's jacket. “Just...Please. Before this fucking kills me...”
“You owe me...” Heine shook his head slightly, inevitably giving in to Badou's whining. If only because the redhead's cock was still at eye-level, and proving to be more tempting than it ought to be.
He lapped at the swollen head, cleaning away the mess that had been building from his partner's neglected arousal. The lazy attention earned him a breathy moan, the sound of which went straight to his own aching length. He was going to end up making a mess of his pants...In which case, Badou would be paying for his dry cleaning.
Shifting enough to pin Badou's hips back against the pillar, Heine wasted no time taking his partner's cock into his mouth, swallowing around the head and closing his eyes. He brushed his tongue shamelessly over every heated inch, panting softly through his nose and sucking hungrily. As little as he wanted to rush things, he did want to get at the redhead properly. And the only way to do that would be to get his partner off and then haul his skinny ass home.
The dull thump of Badou's head falling back went unnoticed, the feeling of the information broker's hands clawing at his shoulders far too distracting. It was too easy to lose himself in this, to just forget everything and focus on the other man. Thus, he barely heard his partner's choked warning, barely managed to sit back, before the rush of Badou's seed coated his mouth. There was always more than he counted on, and it took quite a bit of effort to swallow it all without choking. Part of him was still surprised he swallowed it at all...
As he felt the other going soft, he fell back properly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and panting roughly. Heine was so hard it hurt, but one look at Badou told him he still had a wait on his hands. It was all he could do to haul himself to his feet and press in for an aggressive, messy, kiss.
It wasn't anything like all of the stupid romance movies he watched - though he'd deny the hobby if anyone ever asked - with satin sheets and candles and the like...but it worked. Somehow, rough, needy, sex with blood and concrete and bullet casings just...felt more natural.
Title: Game Over
Author: selvanic
Series: Pandora Hearts
Word Count: 2,068
Characters/Pairings: Break/Gilbert
Rating: M; it's a smut dump, these are nothing but sex.
Summary: In a way, Gilbert had known he'd get caught. That didn't mean he liked it...
He should have seen this coming. Really, the surprise should have been that it hadn't happened sooner. Despite the inevitability, however, Gilbert was still mortified. Looking back, he wound understand the arguments against him, would understand that he'd brought this upon himself - may have actually been hoping to get caught - but in the moment...he wanted little more than to curl up on himself and die.
Thankfully, his hands were moving faster than his mind.
Amidst strangled noises, flustered choking and half-finished explanations, he managed to tug the sheets up and over anything immediately incriminating. As his face burned and his chest seized up, his fingers curled tightly in the covers, knuckles white as they locked things in place. And when he finally shut his mouth long enough to at least try to look indignant, he was fairly sure nothing, and more importantly, no one, could get at him.
In spite of his efforts, the man who'd stepped out of his closet, the man whose name he'd been so desperately trying not to say as he'd relieved some pent up frustrations, grinned at him so knowingly, so smugly, that his resolve was already starting to falter. No. He couldn't let the older man win. Not this time. He wasn't sure he'd survive letting the other win...
“Get out.” Gilbert bit the words out between clenched teeth, jaw locked and shoulders raised defensively as the deliberate intruder simply stood, stared, and smiled.
“So cruel, Gilbert-kun~.” Break affected an overacted pout, crossing his arms loosely and tilting his head to one side. “And here I'd only come because I was worried.”
The younger man choked indelicately, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes accusingly. “Worried?! That...That doesn't even make sense! What reason do you have to worry?!”
Openly ignoring Gilbert's indignant remarks, the Hatter stalked forwards, terrifying smile all but splitting the man's pale face. “Reason~? Why, Gilbert, I heard you moaning and feared you might be injured. And I could have sworn I heard my name~.”
This was why he hated cats. Just like Break, they moved silently and cornered their prey, toyed with it until they got bored, and then finished the job with sharp teeth and claws. For ten years, Gilbert had been waiting for Break's teeth to finally sink into him, had been waiting for the man to stop batting him around and just finish him. And now, in his own room, half naked and aroused under a pile of sheets, it looked like the end had finally come. He should have known it'd end like this...Break wouldn't let him go with dignity.
“So, Gilbert-kun~...” The man's voice dripped with near sickening sweetness, like sugar-saturated honey, weighing just as heavily on the embarrassed Nightray's shoulders as they were whispered past his ear. “Does it still hurt~?”
Unable to look up, Gilbert was caught off guard by just how close the other man had gotten. And before he could so much as utter a single sound in response, a pale hand was pressed firmly to his chest, long fingers deftly picking buttons open.
Perhaps the game hadn't ended yet...
Wide golden eyes snapped up, meeting a single laughing crimson one. Any protest he may have wanted to make, any questions he may have had, were silenced as surprisingly white teeth brushed against his lower lip, his heart leaping into his throat. And before he could so much as squeak, a tongue that tasted of candy slipped past his lips.
Gilbert's mind was reeling. This didn't make sense. It didn't add up. Why was Break...? Unless this was some kind of twisted dream. It wasn't like he hadn't had them before. He was twenty-four, he was a man, he had needs...His mind was just taking the initiative. He'd just passed out at some point, and was caught up now in a very vivid dream.
Or he'd have liked to think as much. As the older man joined him on the bed, all but crawling into his lap, those tormentingly long fingers sliding over his now exposed chest and stomach, Gilbert became painfully aware of just how real this was. So then...why?
With a force of effort, he pulled away from Break's lips, panting roughly and face burning, hands trembling against the bed as they fought to decide between maintaining his cover and holding onto the albino in his lap. He needed answers. He needed to know why. And, luckily, the Hatter seemed to understand as much.
“You never could just take things as they came, could you?” Break sighed and shook his head, tapping his fingers lightly against the quietly heaving chest they rested against. “Here I thought I'd be doing you a favor, letting you have the real thing instead of just fantasizing for yourself.”
Gilbert shook his head carefully, swallowing hard and squirming underneath the other man. “I-I don't...Wh-Why would you...?”
One of those damnably nimble hands finally ceased its explorations in favor of catching Gilbert's chin, forcing the young man to meet his superior's eyes with his own. “I've needs too, you know. And you must know how much I enjoy having you at my mercy~.”
So it was all part of the game. It was always a game with Break. Though, really, Gilbert hadn't expected anything more. Even when he'd grown into the rather embarrassing habit of getting himself off thinking about the older man, he'd known it could never be much more than a temporary amusement for the albino. He'd just never anticipated having the opportunity to find as much out first-hand.
Exhaling shakily, he tentatively wrapped his arms around Break's waist, all of the blood in his body in one of two places. “F-Fine...A-As long as y-you're here...”
Break laughed shortly, shaking his head and brushing smiling lips against one of Gilbert's flushed ears. “You've always been so adorably tempting...~”
Slowly, teasingly, those hands went back to work, seeming to map out trembling skin with long, deliberate, strokes of exploratory fingers. The feeling of the other man's clothing against his skin, the sweet scent that seemed so natural on his superior, the quiet chuckle his every whimper and moan earned from Break...It was surprisingly overwhelming. He found himself giving in too quickly, too readily, too easily. He should have had further reservations. He should have kicked the other out. But who was he fooling? He was a masochist; he'd spent his whole life falling for people who wanted little more than to use and abuse him.
Putting hesitations aside, suffocating his voice of reason, Gilbert wrapped his arms tightly around Break's chest, kissing the other man firmly. It may not have been perfect, it may not have been some kind of dream come true, but it was what he'd wanted. It was what he'd been thinking about as he'd worked himself over, had become what his body seemed to crave in place of Oz. And if he had learned anything from the man on top of him, from the ten years he'd spent in the Nightray household, it was to stop thinking when things he wanted fell into his lap. It was best to take them while he could and deal with the fallout later.
Much to his surprise, his unexpected assertion earned an appreciative groan from the older man, and long fingers worked their way into the mess of his hair, tugging and petting, drawing the kiss out until they grew short of breath. That ever smiling mouth went to work on his throat and jaw, not missing a single beat and rewarding breathy pleas for more with the slick brush of a shameless tongue. Gilbert squirmed helplessly, his hands pawing shakily, desperately, at Break's back, curling tightly in the fabric of the man's oversized jacket.
Then, without warning, the Hatter stopped. Hands ceased their wanderings, addicting lips moved away from his skin, and with one smooth movement, Break slipped out of Gilbert's reach. He couldn't stop the broken sound of protest that escaped him, couldn't keep from trying to catch a sleeve, a hem, anything. Just when he'd been ready to stop thinking, when he'd given in to sheer need for the attention, the other man had stopped, leaving him aching and shivering and lost.
However, for all that Break was watching him with that damned smile, for all that his superior seemed to take inordinate amounts of joy watching Gilbert struggle with the affair, there was no doubting the change in the other's state of being. Break was breathing harder, his clothes were rumpled from the Nightray's desperate hands, and the man's usual mocking attention seemed much sharper. There was a decidedly more predatory air about the man, and something about it made Gilbert want more.
“B-Break...” He whimpered low in his throat, shifting restlessly against the mattress, barely holding himself upright. “Please...D-Don't stop...”
The man in question took half a step in, catching Gilbert's chin in his hand and kissing him aggressively. As he pulled back, he worried the younger man's lower lip with his teeth, one hand curling against the warm skin of the Nightray's chest. “What do you want from me, Gilbert-kun~? Ask nicely now.”
Gilbert moaned softly, shivering and wrapping his arms around Break's waist. He was painfully aroused, his whole body shaking under ever touch, every kiss. He wasn't sure he'd survive the other man doing much more than this. But he needed more. He wanted to know precisely how it would feel to have someone else touching him. Now if he could only find the state of mind to ask...
“We haven't all day, Gilbert,” Break scolded, nipping at his earlobe and sliding one hand down past the protective bundle of blankets.
Gasping shortly, Gilbert's hips jerked up into Break's touch, his hands curling tightly in the other's shirt as he fought not to lose himself outright. He bit his lower lip, looking up at the older man in a quiet plea for mercy. He couldn't very well think while his superior was fondling him...
The Hatter laughed and stole another aggressive kiss, hand delving lower until those long fingers could wrap around the aching center of Gilbert's need. The resulting cry was swallowed hungrily, a rough shudder rolling through him as Break began to stroke him indulgently. It wasn't fair; it was too much. He hadn't even had time to breathe and the older man had already pushed forward, had decided for him. And it felt so good.
Gilbert broke off when he couldn't breathe, writhing and clutching at Break's body as the man toyed with him, as those damnable fingers squeezed and rippled and stroked. His head spun, his chest heaving with every moan and whimper the other wrung from him. He fought to move, to meet every motion of Break's hand with his hips, but with the older man sitting on him like this...He was entirely at his superior's mercy. It was everything he'd imagined it'd be and more.
Break curled in closer, lips and teeth and tongue marking Gilbert's throat and shoulder, free hand tangling in the young man's hair and tugging almost painfully. The exquisite combination of pleasure and pain, the feeling of Break taking this much control...It was more than his body could take. He'd been so close when the man had first stepped in, and he'd never had anyone touch him like this before...It was all Gilbert could do to cry out sharply, clawing at the other man's back as he shuddered through his release, his heart fighting against his ribcage.
Somewhere in the haze of his afterglow, he felt Break's hand on his chest, the older man coaxing him down onto the bed properly. His own hands fought to hold on, fingers curling in the fabric of the Hatter's coat. He knew that asking for the other to stay would be too much, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. Not yet.
He heard Break laugh, felt the man's clever fingers brushing sweat dampened hair away from his face. “Don't pass out on me yet, Gilbert,” he teased, blunt nails scraping lightly against the young man's scalp. “I still need some attention~.”
For the first time in a long time, Gilbert was more than happy to be the center of Break's rather twisted attention.
Title: Any time, Anywhere
Author: selvanic
Series: DOGS
Word Count: 2,192
Characters/Pairings: Heine/Badou
Rating: M; it's a smut dump, these are nothing but sex. And foul language in this one.
Summary: Sometimes, the sex just had to happen.
Heine would blame the adrenaline. Badou would say it was because he didn't want to wind up mauled for telling Heine 'no'. Regardless of the reason, it happened. At some point, for one reason or another, in the midst of bullet riddled walls and bodies, with broken glass and pools of blood on the floor, they'd find themselves wrapped around one another in a mess of teeth and tongues and nails.
There was something addicting about it, something heady and irresistible. There was something about knowing what they'd just done, what they'd just survived, that heightened their desire that much more. But it was only under certain circumstances, and Heine was starting to notice a pattern. He was fairly sure he was close to figuring out just what it was that set them off.
As the last body hit the ground, the sound of the gunshot still echoing through the crumbling underground parking lot, the gunman could feel the rush of his adrenaline slowly dying down. He surveyed the resulting carnage critically, making sure they hadn't missed anything, when he noticed a certain someone leaning heavily against one of the still standing cement pillars.
His stupid partner had managed to get shot. Again.
Crossing the distance between them, stepping over piles of crumpled bodies - some more identifiable than others - the only sound aside from the metallic clinking that seemed to follow Heine everywhere was the frustrated grumbling coming from the injured redhead.
“Where'd they get you this time, moron?” He'd never professed to being a caring partner.
Badou threw him a dirty look, gesturing curtly to his right thigh. “How about the bleeding hole in my leg, asshole? You think that might be it?”
Rolling his eyes, Heine leaned over and examined the offending injury. “Looks like it's still in there. There's no exit wound.”
“Thank God you're a fucking doctor.” The irritable ginger swatted the albino upside the back of the head, frowning heavily as he did. “Because you know I can't feel the damn thing lodged in there!”
Heine growled and batted Badou's arm away. “You're such a little bitch when you get hurt...”
Grumbling under his breath, the information broker leaned heavily against the pillar and stared at the wound in open frustration. “Yeah, well, if shit ever stuck to you, I bet you'd bitch too.”
The gunman rolled his eyes, dropping to his knees and flipping a switchblade out of his pocket. “Then let's get it out.”
Badou made an indelicate noise, flailing as best as an injured man could and grabbing Heine's wrist. “You're not an actual doctor, you lunatic. Put that away.”
Heine snorted and looked up at the other man. “Doctor or not, I know that leaving that thing in there will make it worse. So you either let me get it out, or you lose that leg.”
Locking his jaw, the redhead seemed to honestly weigh the choices before turning to stare at the wall. “Fine. But if you hack me open, I'm gonna kick your ass.”
“If I hack you open, you won't be able to kick anything.”
Heine smiled crookedly, ignoring the noise his comment had earned and making short work of Badou's pant leg. With that out of the way, he had access to the wound itself. It wasn't bad...Probably just a handgun. He applied careful pressure around the hole with his free hand, using the tip of the knife to fish for the bullet. His partner yelped and whined, clearly trying not to squirm as one hand found its way into Heine's hair. He supposed he couldn't blame Badou, but if the stupid ginger pulled, the hole was going to get bigger...Still, this wasn't necessarily the first time he'd had to do this, and after several minutes of bitching and choked off threats, there was the small clatter of the bullet hitting the ground.
Heine sat back as he finished, tucking his knife away with a sigh. “There. Done.”
“Precision surgeon you're not...” Badou whined, tentatively putting pressure on the leg before giving up shortly after. “I think you made it worse...”
Rolling his eyes and tearing a strip of fabric from the pant leg he'd already destroyed, the gunman wrapped the wound a little tighter than was probably necessary. If only because he couldn't leave well enough alone. “Tell me that when you're using it to run away in a couple of days.”
“I will, because it'll probably get me caught, and you'd owe me a rescue.”
“When don't I owe you a rescue?” Heine snorted and frowned up at the redhead, drumming his fingers expectantly against the other's leg.
Flinching with obvious dramatics, Badou caught the pale digits in his own hand and huffed shortly. “First of all, stop touching that. Secondly, you owe me the god damn rescue because you're usually the reason I'm there in the first place.”
Heine's attention was momentarily diverted by the feeling of his partner all but holding his hand, a thin smile crossing his lips. “Uh huh. Sure. You tell yourself that.”
“Would you focus please?” A quick kick of Badou's foot to the albino's side was added to the 'request'. “You're going to get me killed one of these days. I mean, lookit my leg. If that'd hit the fucking artery, I'd be bleeding to death as we speak.”
Normally, Heine would have fought back against the kick, would have countered the accusation with a short rebuttal of his own. But, as was occasionally the case, he caught himself thinking instead. Badou had a point. The people who'd shot his partner - he couldn't very well pinpoint which one it was now - hadn't been after the redhead. They'd been after him. Hell, most of the time they were. And Badou got dragged into it, because the moron had thought, long ago, that their teaming up would be for the best. Heine just hadn't expected it to last this long.
“Hey. Earth to Heine.” Badou's foot nudged against the gunman's side again, jarring the man out of his momentary lapse. “The fuck are you doing down there?”
“Thinking, asshole. You should try it sometime.” Despite his tone, Heine leaned forward enough to rest his forehead against his partner's hip. “If you did, you wouldn't get killed because of me.”
A beat of silence passed between them, broken only by the sharp flick of Badou's lighter as the man went for his fix. “It's been a while since I've seen you worry, pup. It's kinda freakin' me out.”
Heine scoffed and bit down on his partner's hip, earning a noise lost somewhere between a yelp and a curse. This was always how it went. Something happened that gave one of them a scare, the other worried out loud, the first pointed it out, and frustrated, desperate, sex was used to cover up the slip. It was no doubt a pattern both of them had figured out, but neither of them wanted to point it out. They'd take what they could get...In the world they lived in, it was sometimes the only personal time they got with one another.
The redhead's pants were pulled away after impatient maneuvering, the information broker's whining about his leg putting a noticeable damper on the albino's mood. Things weren't stalled for long, pale hands taking hold of narrow hips while a series of shameless kisses and love-bites were brushed over every inch of newly exposed leg. Shuddering breaths and the shift of fabric against concrete filled the silence of the parking lot, the thick stench of blood quickly forgotten as they gave into the sheer need for one another.
“F-Fuck, Heine...~” Badou moaned hungrily, curling one hand in the gunman's hair and tugging, trying to goad the other man into giving him what he wanted.
While Heine wasn't necessarily known for being an obedient dog, he found he became more amenable to his partner's requests when he was near seconds away from simply jumping the redhead. And the pull was all it took to set the albino's mouth to work, tongue sliding hungrily from base to tip of Badou's swollen cock. Every inch of the shaft was paid deliberate attention, the smoker's hands finding Heine's shoulders and digging in almost painfully in their attempt to keep their owner upright as pale lips wrapped around the flushed head. No time was wasted on pleasantries, the gunman's tongue swirling briefly around the ridge before setting in to work in earnest. As little as Heine wanted to admit, part of him was addicted to the taste of his partner's cock.
Badou's voice echoed almost deafeningly around them as the albino bobbed his head, the ginger all but buckled in half and relying almost entirely on the cement pillar to keep his feet about him. There was no shame here, no restraint or hesitance, no pussyfooting around some stupid thing or another. They could bicker before, could bitch afterward, and could worry about being mocked by one another when their clothes were on. They'd long since agreed that during sex - regardless of time or location - snide comments would be put on hold.
Heine pulled back at the first bitter pang of the other's building release, lapping briefly at the weeping head and turning his eyes up. He could feel his own cock twitch as he took in the look on his partner's face, a low, predatory, growl building in the back of his throat in response to how damn edible Badou looked. The small, breathless, whimper that escaped the shivering redhead was just the thing to top it off.
However, as he made to pull Badou down into his lap, Heine's efforts were met with surprising resistance. The gunman's eyes narrowed sharply, fingers biting into his partner's hips. He was in no state for coherent conversation, and they'd both learned to read one another's body language.
Badou huffed shortly, shaking his head and glaring right back, despite the color in his face. “Y-You're not fucking me on the same floor that's covered in a dozen dead bodies...” He licked his lips nervously, hands trembling slightly where they were resting on Heine's shoulders. “Just...Just finish what you started, get me home, and we can go nuts.”
Heine frowned slightly and shifted to try and alleviate some of the rather damning pressure his position had his pants providing. “What about my hard-on, asshole? This isn't all about you.”
“Fuck, Heine, I'll do something about it later...” The smoker's hands curled that much tighter in the leather of the albino's jacket. “Just...Please. Before this fucking kills me...”
“You owe me...” Heine shook his head slightly, inevitably giving in to Badou's whining. If only because the redhead's cock was still at eye-level, and proving to be more tempting than it ought to be.
He lapped at the swollen head, cleaning away the mess that had been building from his partner's neglected arousal. The lazy attention earned him a breathy moan, the sound of which went straight to his own aching length. He was going to end up making a mess of his pants...In which case, Badou would be paying for his dry cleaning.
Shifting enough to pin Badou's hips back against the pillar, Heine wasted no time taking his partner's cock into his mouth, swallowing around the head and closing his eyes. He brushed his tongue shamelessly over every heated inch, panting softly through his nose and sucking hungrily. As little as he wanted to rush things, he did want to get at the redhead properly. And the only way to do that would be to get his partner off and then haul his skinny ass home.
The dull thump of Badou's head falling back went unnoticed, the feeling of the information broker's hands clawing at his shoulders far too distracting. It was too easy to lose himself in this, to just forget everything and focus on the other man. Thus, he barely heard his partner's choked warning, barely managed to sit back, before the rush of Badou's seed coated his mouth. There was always more than he counted on, and it took quite a bit of effort to swallow it all without choking. Part of him was still surprised he swallowed it at all...
As he felt the other going soft, he fell back properly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and panting roughly. Heine was so hard it hurt, but one look at Badou told him he still had a wait on his hands. It was all he could do to haul himself to his feet and press in for an aggressive, messy, kiss.
It wasn't anything like all of the stupid romance movies he watched - though he'd deny the hobby if anyone ever asked - with satin sheets and candles and the like...but it worked. Somehow, rough, needy, sex with blood and concrete and bullet casings just...felt more natural.
Title: Game Over
Author: selvanic
Series: Pandora Hearts
Word Count: 2,068
Characters/Pairings: Break/Gilbert
Rating: M; it's a smut dump, these are nothing but sex.
Summary: In a way, Gilbert had known he'd get caught. That didn't mean he liked it...
He should have seen this coming. Really, the surprise should have been that it hadn't happened sooner. Despite the inevitability, however, Gilbert was still mortified. Looking back, he wound understand the arguments against him, would understand that he'd brought this upon himself - may have actually been hoping to get caught - but in the moment...he wanted little more than to curl up on himself and die.
Thankfully, his hands were moving faster than his mind.
Amidst strangled noises, flustered choking and half-finished explanations, he managed to tug the sheets up and over anything immediately incriminating. As his face burned and his chest seized up, his fingers curled tightly in the covers, knuckles white as they locked things in place. And when he finally shut his mouth long enough to at least try to look indignant, he was fairly sure nothing, and more importantly, no one, could get at him.
In spite of his efforts, the man who'd stepped out of his closet, the man whose name he'd been so desperately trying not to say as he'd relieved some pent up frustrations, grinned at him so knowingly, so smugly, that his resolve was already starting to falter. No. He couldn't let the older man win. Not this time. He wasn't sure he'd survive letting the other win...
“Get out.” Gilbert bit the words out between clenched teeth, jaw locked and shoulders raised defensively as the deliberate intruder simply stood, stared, and smiled.
“So cruel, Gilbert-kun~.” Break affected an overacted pout, crossing his arms loosely and tilting his head to one side. “And here I'd only come because I was worried.”
The younger man choked indelicately, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes accusingly. “Worried?! That...That doesn't even make sense! What reason do you have to worry?!”
Openly ignoring Gilbert's indignant remarks, the Hatter stalked forwards, terrifying smile all but splitting the man's pale face. “Reason~? Why, Gilbert, I heard you moaning and feared you might be injured. And I could have sworn I heard my name~.”
This was why he hated cats. Just like Break, they moved silently and cornered their prey, toyed with it until they got bored, and then finished the job with sharp teeth and claws. For ten years, Gilbert had been waiting for Break's teeth to finally sink into him, had been waiting for the man to stop batting him around and just finish him. And now, in his own room, half naked and aroused under a pile of sheets, it looked like the end had finally come. He should have known it'd end like this...Break wouldn't let him go with dignity.
“So, Gilbert-kun~...” The man's voice dripped with near sickening sweetness, like sugar-saturated honey, weighing just as heavily on the embarrassed Nightray's shoulders as they were whispered past his ear. “Does it still hurt~?”
Unable to look up, Gilbert was caught off guard by just how close the other man had gotten. And before he could so much as utter a single sound in response, a pale hand was pressed firmly to his chest, long fingers deftly picking buttons open.
Perhaps the game hadn't ended yet...
Wide golden eyes snapped up, meeting a single laughing crimson one. Any protest he may have wanted to make, any questions he may have had, were silenced as surprisingly white teeth brushed against his lower lip, his heart leaping into his throat. And before he could so much as squeak, a tongue that tasted of candy slipped past his lips.
Gilbert's mind was reeling. This didn't make sense. It didn't add up. Why was Break...? Unless this was some kind of twisted dream. It wasn't like he hadn't had them before. He was twenty-four, he was a man, he had needs...His mind was just taking the initiative. He'd just passed out at some point, and was caught up now in a very vivid dream.
Or he'd have liked to think as much. As the older man joined him on the bed, all but crawling into his lap, those tormentingly long fingers sliding over his now exposed chest and stomach, Gilbert became painfully aware of just how real this was. So then...why?
With a force of effort, he pulled away from Break's lips, panting roughly and face burning, hands trembling against the bed as they fought to decide between maintaining his cover and holding onto the albino in his lap. He needed answers. He needed to know why. And, luckily, the Hatter seemed to understand as much.
“You never could just take things as they came, could you?” Break sighed and shook his head, tapping his fingers lightly against the quietly heaving chest they rested against. “Here I thought I'd be doing you a favor, letting you have the real thing instead of just fantasizing for yourself.”
Gilbert shook his head carefully, swallowing hard and squirming underneath the other man. “I-I don't...Wh-Why would you...?”
One of those damnably nimble hands finally ceased its explorations in favor of catching Gilbert's chin, forcing the young man to meet his superior's eyes with his own. “I've needs too, you know. And you must know how much I enjoy having you at my mercy~.”
So it was all part of the game. It was always a game with Break. Though, really, Gilbert hadn't expected anything more. Even when he'd grown into the rather embarrassing habit of getting himself off thinking about the older man, he'd known it could never be much more than a temporary amusement for the albino. He'd just never anticipated having the opportunity to find as much out first-hand.
Exhaling shakily, he tentatively wrapped his arms around Break's waist, all of the blood in his body in one of two places. “F-Fine...A-As long as y-you're here...”
Break laughed shortly, shaking his head and brushing smiling lips against one of Gilbert's flushed ears. “You've always been so adorably tempting...~”
Slowly, teasingly, those hands went back to work, seeming to map out trembling skin with long, deliberate, strokes of exploratory fingers. The feeling of the other man's clothing against his skin, the sweet scent that seemed so natural on his superior, the quiet chuckle his every whimper and moan earned from Break...It was surprisingly overwhelming. He found himself giving in too quickly, too readily, too easily. He should have had further reservations. He should have kicked the other out. But who was he fooling? He was a masochist; he'd spent his whole life falling for people who wanted little more than to use and abuse him.
Putting hesitations aside, suffocating his voice of reason, Gilbert wrapped his arms tightly around Break's chest, kissing the other man firmly. It may not have been perfect, it may not have been some kind of dream come true, but it was what he'd wanted. It was what he'd been thinking about as he'd worked himself over, had become what his body seemed to crave in place of Oz. And if he had learned anything from the man on top of him, from the ten years he'd spent in the Nightray household, it was to stop thinking when things he wanted fell into his lap. It was best to take them while he could and deal with the fallout later.
Much to his surprise, his unexpected assertion earned an appreciative groan from the older man, and long fingers worked their way into the mess of his hair, tugging and petting, drawing the kiss out until they grew short of breath. That ever smiling mouth went to work on his throat and jaw, not missing a single beat and rewarding breathy pleas for more with the slick brush of a shameless tongue. Gilbert squirmed helplessly, his hands pawing shakily, desperately, at Break's back, curling tightly in the fabric of the man's oversized jacket.
Then, without warning, the Hatter stopped. Hands ceased their wanderings, addicting lips moved away from his skin, and with one smooth movement, Break slipped out of Gilbert's reach. He couldn't stop the broken sound of protest that escaped him, couldn't keep from trying to catch a sleeve, a hem, anything. Just when he'd been ready to stop thinking, when he'd given in to sheer need for the attention, the other man had stopped, leaving him aching and shivering and lost.
However, for all that Break was watching him with that damned smile, for all that his superior seemed to take inordinate amounts of joy watching Gilbert struggle with the affair, there was no doubting the change in the other's state of being. Break was breathing harder, his clothes were rumpled from the Nightray's desperate hands, and the man's usual mocking attention seemed much sharper. There was a decidedly more predatory air about the man, and something about it made Gilbert want more.
“B-Break...” He whimpered low in his throat, shifting restlessly against the mattress, barely holding himself upright. “Please...D-Don't stop...”
The man in question took half a step in, catching Gilbert's chin in his hand and kissing him aggressively. As he pulled back, he worried the younger man's lower lip with his teeth, one hand curling against the warm skin of the Nightray's chest. “What do you want from me, Gilbert-kun~? Ask nicely now.”
Gilbert moaned softly, shivering and wrapping his arms around Break's waist. He was painfully aroused, his whole body shaking under ever touch, every kiss. He wasn't sure he'd survive the other man doing much more than this. But he needed more. He wanted to know precisely how it would feel to have someone else touching him. Now if he could only find the state of mind to ask...
“We haven't all day, Gilbert,” Break scolded, nipping at his earlobe and sliding one hand down past the protective bundle of blankets.
Gasping shortly, Gilbert's hips jerked up into Break's touch, his hands curling tightly in the other's shirt as he fought not to lose himself outright. He bit his lower lip, looking up at the older man in a quiet plea for mercy. He couldn't very well think while his superior was fondling him...
The Hatter laughed and stole another aggressive kiss, hand delving lower until those long fingers could wrap around the aching center of Gilbert's need. The resulting cry was swallowed hungrily, a rough shudder rolling through him as Break began to stroke him indulgently. It wasn't fair; it was too much. He hadn't even had time to breathe and the older man had already pushed forward, had decided for him. And it felt so good.
Gilbert broke off when he couldn't breathe, writhing and clutching at Break's body as the man toyed with him, as those damnable fingers squeezed and rippled and stroked. His head spun, his chest heaving with every moan and whimper the other wrung from him. He fought to move, to meet every motion of Break's hand with his hips, but with the older man sitting on him like this...He was entirely at his superior's mercy. It was everything he'd imagined it'd be and more.
Break curled in closer, lips and teeth and tongue marking Gilbert's throat and shoulder, free hand tangling in the young man's hair and tugging almost painfully. The exquisite combination of pleasure and pain, the feeling of Break taking this much control...It was more than his body could take. He'd been so close when the man had first stepped in, and he'd never had anyone touch him like this before...It was all Gilbert could do to cry out sharply, clawing at the other man's back as he shuddered through his release, his heart fighting against his ribcage.
Somewhere in the haze of his afterglow, he felt Break's hand on his chest, the older man coaxing him down onto the bed properly. His own hands fought to hold on, fingers curling in the fabric of the Hatter's coat. He knew that asking for the other to stay would be too much, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. Not yet.
He heard Break laugh, felt the man's clever fingers brushing sweat dampened hair away from his face. “Don't pass out on me yet, Gilbert,” he teased, blunt nails scraping lightly against the young man's scalp. “I still need some attention~.”
For the first time in a long time, Gilbert was more than happy to be the center of Break's rather twisted attention.