First Gintama fanfiction
Title:“Night with a Gloomy Terrorist”
Author: Enkidu
Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Fandom: Gintama
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi. Badly written sex. Some potty language. Uh…first Gintama fanfic for me -_-;; That is all.
Author's Notes: This fic really sucks.
“…The bed vibrates.”
Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t had a good lay in two years.
Perhaps the stars were lined up incorrectly that night, thus bringing about cosmic imbalance.
Perhaps it was the third chocolate mint milkshake he had.
…or perhaps it was the memory of Katsura’s pale thighs flashing in that skimpy robe as he leaped over the heads of the Amanto to rush in and save Gintoki.
Whatever it was, Gintoki was sure there had to be a good reason why he was in a cheap motel with a gloomy long-haired terrorist who also happened to be his ex-…boyfriend? Lover? Comrade? Fuck-buddy? He hadn’t ever felt any particularly need to label whatever it was they had in the past, preferring to keep it just that -the past.
It wasn’t the first time that night that he found himself asking exactly why he had left the comfortable confines of his couch and TV to seek out said gloomy long-haired terrorist. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to reminisce about old times, and he was quite determined to keep Katsura from mentioning it even if it meant using every dirty, underhanded technique -like sex. Sex was good.
“You picked this place out,” Katsura finally said after what seemed like an eternity of both of them standing in the doorway and staring at the bed as if it were covered in roaches, snakes, and used condoms. For all they knew, it could have very well contained the previously mentioned items in hidden crevices if they bothered to look carefully.
“You want to try the vibrating bed?”
“…No.”
“Might be fun, Zura”
“It’s not Zura! It’s-“
Gintoki clamped a hand over Katsura’s mouth then leaned in close to his ear, lips brushing his earlobe as he drawled out each syllable low and poignantly.
“Ka-tsu-ra.”
The desired effect was achieved. Katsura instantly went silent then shot out one hand to clench around Gintoki’s half-falling kimono and jerk him forward until their lips were crushed together almost painfully.
The kiss was very much like how every other kiss between them had been -a usual blend of utter messiness with a surge of desperation that left them tugging and pulling at clothes then clinging to bare scraps of skin as they stumbled towards the bed.
Katsura exhaled as his back hit the mattress hard, already on the edge of dizziness and disorientation. His haori and kimono were hastily tugged open and hanging off his arms, and his hair scattered across the musty beige sheets.
The inky strands caught Gintoki’s eyes for a moment, fingers treading along the intricate swirls, recalling the last time he had fisted dirty, blood-caked hands in his mane. It had been the day before they parted, and they were in a similar run-down motel, except they hadn’t made it to the bed at all. If he had stuck around the next morning, he was sure he would have had to put up with Katsura complaining about splinters in his ass and various uncomfortable places.
Katsura’s voice suddenly broke him out of his thoughts. “You’re remembering.”
“I was just thinking I’d like to try the vibrating bed. Do you have change on you?”
Katsura gave him an annoyed look. “Finish fucking me before I shove that ridiculous wooden sword up your-“
Gintoki kissed him and firmly nudged against him, letting him know exactly what was going to be shoved up where.
They hadn’t even bothered fully undressing, clothes hanging off their body in disarray, clinging to skin damp with sweat. Neither of them had any lubricant and spit was hardly a good substitute, but having been samurai, they both knew too well how to deal with pain.
“…you okay?” Gintoki exhaled the words just as he thrust inside of Katsura’s body.
Katsura nodded wordlessly, but his eyebrows furrowing and his face scrunching up spoke otherwise.
“…sure you don’t want to try out the vibrating bed?”
Blunt nails impaled roughly into Gintoki’s back as kiss-swollen lips curled into a nasty scowl.
“Just checking,” Gintoki muttered and began thrusting into his former comrade with his usual reckless abandon.
Like kissing, like their rocky friendship, like everything between them, the sex was barely affectionate. However, what it lacked in sensuality, it made up for in sheer intensity.
They rarely kissed during sex, mouths occupied with frantic panting until their lungs burned. They couldn’t move their hands, too busy bracing them against each other’s bodies as they met forcefully, driving each and every strong sensation possible out of one other, uncaring of the pain and bruising. It was how they both survived so long, avoiding each other’s touch completely then letting it culminate into a frenzied force that brought them out of whatever immobilized them -currently, the effects of the present, the loss of the samurai class, the memories of the war.
Katsura’s hands gripped tightly onto well-muscled shoulder blades as Gintoki slammed into his body in a brute, clumsy rhythm, pushing them both further towards the headboard. The bed banged against the wall, stripping some of the plaster off, but neither of them had any concern for their neighbors.
It wasn’t long before they were both quivering and choking on air, Katsura’s limbs wound tightly around Gintoki’s body just holding on before he slipped away into oblivion. Then suddenly Katsura bit down hard on the broad, exposed shoulder in an effort to muffle whatever sound welled up in his throat as he found release with Gintoki not too far behind.
They both collapsed on the bed together afterwards, refusing to move, limbs burning from the strain. Their harsh breathing echoed throughout the room while they lay still, vaguely aware of similar activities going on in the room on the other side of the wall.
Absently, Gintoki brushed away the strands of hair that clung to Katsura’s lightly drenched face. The only thing that had kept whatever modicum of sanity he possessed in tact throughout the war was that I-just-got-fucked-within-an-inch-of-my-life-and-I’m-damn-happy-about-it look.
Katsura met his eyes evenly, unaware he was even grinning. “We didn’t need the vibrating bed, after all.”
Gintoki almost pouted. “…still would have been cool.”
-The End-
Author: Enkidu
Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Fandom: Gintama
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi. Badly written sex. Some potty language. Uh…first Gintama fanfic for me -_-;; That is all.
Author's Notes: This fic really sucks.
“…The bed vibrates.”
Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t had a good lay in two years.
Perhaps the stars were lined up incorrectly that night, thus bringing about cosmic imbalance.
Perhaps it was the third chocolate mint milkshake he had.
…or perhaps it was the memory of Katsura’s pale thighs flashing in that skimpy robe as he leaped over the heads of the Amanto to rush in and save Gintoki.
Whatever it was, Gintoki was sure there had to be a good reason why he was in a cheap motel with a gloomy long-haired terrorist who also happened to be his ex-…boyfriend? Lover? Comrade? Fuck-buddy? He hadn’t ever felt any particularly need to label whatever it was they had in the past, preferring to keep it just that -the past.
It wasn’t the first time that night that he found himself asking exactly why he had left the comfortable confines of his couch and TV to seek out said gloomy long-haired terrorist. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to reminisce about old times, and he was quite determined to keep Katsura from mentioning it even if it meant using every dirty, underhanded technique -like sex. Sex was good.
“You picked this place out,” Katsura finally said after what seemed like an eternity of both of them standing in the doorway and staring at the bed as if it were covered in roaches, snakes, and used condoms. For all they knew, it could have very well contained the previously mentioned items in hidden crevices if they bothered to look carefully.
“You want to try the vibrating bed?”
“…No.”
“Might be fun, Zura”
“It’s not Zura! It’s-“
Gintoki clamped a hand over Katsura’s mouth then leaned in close to his ear, lips brushing his earlobe as he drawled out each syllable low and poignantly.
“Ka-tsu-ra.”
The desired effect was achieved. Katsura instantly went silent then shot out one hand to clench around Gintoki’s half-falling kimono and jerk him forward until their lips were crushed together almost painfully.
The kiss was very much like how every other kiss between them had been -a usual blend of utter messiness with a surge of desperation that left them tugging and pulling at clothes then clinging to bare scraps of skin as they stumbled towards the bed.
Katsura exhaled as his back hit the mattress hard, already on the edge of dizziness and disorientation. His haori and kimono were hastily tugged open and hanging off his arms, and his hair scattered across the musty beige sheets.
The inky strands caught Gintoki’s eyes for a moment, fingers treading along the intricate swirls, recalling the last time he had fisted dirty, blood-caked hands in his mane. It had been the day before they parted, and they were in a similar run-down motel, except they hadn’t made it to the bed at all. If he had stuck around the next morning, he was sure he would have had to put up with Katsura complaining about splinters in his ass and various uncomfortable places.
Katsura’s voice suddenly broke him out of his thoughts. “You’re remembering.”
“I was just thinking I’d like to try the vibrating bed. Do you have change on you?”
Katsura gave him an annoyed look. “Finish fucking me before I shove that ridiculous wooden sword up your-“
Gintoki kissed him and firmly nudged against him, letting him know exactly what was going to be shoved up where.
They hadn’t even bothered fully undressing, clothes hanging off their body in disarray, clinging to skin damp with sweat. Neither of them had any lubricant and spit was hardly a good substitute, but having been samurai, they both knew too well how to deal with pain.
“…you okay?” Gintoki exhaled the words just as he thrust inside of Katsura’s body.
Katsura nodded wordlessly, but his eyebrows furrowing and his face scrunching up spoke otherwise.
“…sure you don’t want to try out the vibrating bed?”
Blunt nails impaled roughly into Gintoki’s back as kiss-swollen lips curled into a nasty scowl.
“Just checking,” Gintoki muttered and began thrusting into his former comrade with his usual reckless abandon.
Like kissing, like their rocky friendship, like everything between them, the sex was barely affectionate. However, what it lacked in sensuality, it made up for in sheer intensity.
They rarely kissed during sex, mouths occupied with frantic panting until their lungs burned. They couldn’t move their hands, too busy bracing them against each other’s bodies as they met forcefully, driving each and every strong sensation possible out of one other, uncaring of the pain and bruising. It was how they both survived so long, avoiding each other’s touch completely then letting it culminate into a frenzied force that brought them out of whatever immobilized them -currently, the effects of the present, the loss of the samurai class, the memories of the war.
Katsura’s hands gripped tightly onto well-muscled shoulder blades as Gintoki slammed into his body in a brute, clumsy rhythm, pushing them both further towards the headboard. The bed banged against the wall, stripping some of the plaster off, but neither of them had any concern for their neighbors.
It wasn’t long before they were both quivering and choking on air, Katsura’s limbs wound tightly around Gintoki’s body just holding on before he slipped away into oblivion. Then suddenly Katsura bit down hard on the broad, exposed shoulder in an effort to muffle whatever sound welled up in his throat as he found release with Gintoki not too far behind.
They both collapsed on the bed together afterwards, refusing to move, limbs burning from the strain. Their harsh breathing echoed throughout the room while they lay still, vaguely aware of similar activities going on in the room on the other side of the wall.
Absently, Gintoki brushed away the strands of hair that clung to Katsura’s lightly drenched face. The only thing that had kept whatever modicum of sanity he possessed in tact throughout the war was that I-just-got-fucked-within-an-inch-of-my-life-and-I’m-damn-happy-about-it look.
Katsura met his eyes evenly, unaware he was even grinning. “We didn’t need the vibrating bed, after all.”
Gintoki almost pouted. “…still would have been cool.”
-The End-