A really random drabble.
At some point, I will have something longer to share. Something with actual relevance. For now, all I have is psudo-porn that started its life as comment spam based off of this horrible work of art, which I was peer pressured into scribbling. There's slightly more context than that, but it's not really relevant to anything.
Sometimes, Gintoki let Katsura top. Not top top--no one topped Gin-san--but when he was feeling (especially) lazy, it was nice to lay back and let the terrorist do all the work. He was pretty sure Katsura thought it was because Gintoki was opening up to him and relinquishing control or some sort of romantic nonsense like that, but really, it was just that he couldn't be bothered, and if the terrorist wanted to ride him into the futon--well, who was he to protest?
Which was why he was currently flat on his back on Zura's floor, staring sort of vacantly at Katsura while the other was taking his sweet time getting them both off. (Really. Who could be boring during sex? Overly-serious, bomb-loving terrorists, apparently.) His inner ranting was came to an abrupt, screeching halt as he spotted movement just past his comrade's shoulder.
Gintoki's shudder of horror was followed quickly by Zura's shudder of release. Panting slightly and brushing tousled hair out of his eyes, the latter took a moment before he realized his partner had gone distinctly unfulfilled.
"What's the matter?"
Gintoki twitched, the image of that creepy, unblinking stare seared into his mind forever. "We are never doing it at your place again."
Sometimes, Gintoki let Katsura top. Not top top--no one topped Gin-san--but when he was feeling (especially) lazy, it was nice to lay back and let the terrorist do all the work. He was pretty sure Katsura thought it was because Gintoki was opening up to him and relinquishing control or some sort of romantic nonsense like that, but really, it was just that he couldn't be bothered, and if the terrorist wanted to ride him into the futon--well, who was he to protest?
Which was why he was currently flat on his back on Zura's floor, staring sort of vacantly at Katsura while the other was taking his sweet time getting them both off. (Really. Who could be boring during sex? Overly-serious, bomb-loving terrorists, apparently.) His inner ranting was came to an abrupt, screeching halt as he spotted movement just past his comrade's shoulder.
Gintoki's shudder of horror was followed quickly by Zura's shudder of release. Panting slightly and brushing tousled hair out of his eyes, the latter took a moment before he realized his partner had gone distinctly unfulfilled.
"What's the matter?"
Gintoki twitched, the image of that creepy, unblinking stare seared into his mind forever. "We are never doing it at your place again."