[Guilty Gear] Système Tacan
Title: Système Tacan
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: R
Warnings: Porn. Pure, unrepentant porn. And snark. Also, porn.
Notes: Set sometime after the events of Interlude/ Breathing Space, but before Distractions. I should be ashamed that there's a continuity for porn here, but I'm really not.
Summary: Ky has the unfortunate tendency to fall asleep in the middle of things, and Sol kind of doesn't want to wait around.
Système Tacan
The day he got shipped out to the front lines was also the first time he entered an airship.
Ky had seen them, heard them, studied them because there was nothing a future commander shouldn't know, but he'd never been on one, had never experienced the atmosphere so closely; commands being yelled, machines grinding, personnel shoving back and forth to get to their posts. He'd stood on the bridge and stared out the windows, marveled at how tiny everything seemed from thirty meters above, at the way the sun burst into the hangar when the ceiling slowly slid back to reveal the sky.
Death traps, they called them, flying sardine cans, just waiting for a Gear to swoop in and pry them open, but there had still been something exhilarating about it, when the ground dropped away beneath his feet and the thrust was causing the entire ship to vibrate, the pressure in his ears rising just as the airship rose higher and higher, and everything below slowly vanished into an indistinguishable checkerboard of yellow, brown and green.
It had taken time to get used to it, to learn how to clear his ears and how to read the checkerboard at all times, identifying stretches of land by their river bends and the color of their soil alone. And, most importantly, to learn how to live with the vibrations, adjust so he wouldn't stumble as soon as he touched solid earth again, knees too accustomed to the constant rumbling. One thing never left, though, and that was the feeling during take-off, the moment when everything seemed suspended and his body knew neither up nor down, leaving a small flutter behind in his stomach that would surge again whenever they hit turbulence.
In many ways, this felt like the first time in an airship all over again, baffling and uncertain, the breathtaking sensation of losing touch with the ground.
Ky wasn't sure what he had expected out of it, whether he'd expected anything at all when he'd taken that last step, crossed over the ramp and kissed Sol. He'd made up his mind to follow the urge that said he had to, the urge that was no longer satisfied with sleep-addled, half-remembered what-ifs and demanded he take the risk. The same urge that had made him agree to more, and again, against his better judgment.
He wasn't supposed to want things. Wanting things was dangerous, a distraction he couldn't allow, and it had always been easy to shut off the responses, reduce things like food and sleep down to their barest minimum in order to keep things going. Staying awake to plot the next course of action might save a hundred lives or more, after all... what did sleep do?
This, though, was different, something that refused to be denied the longer it went. He couldn't even say what it was, as he was pretty certain curiosity was a poor term to describe the whole thing. He still hadn't figured out Sol's stakes in it.
He'd figured Sol would want to do it the one time, just for bragging rights and the fight material, because there really hadn't been a reason to assume anything else. That was why he'd decided to follow the urge, after all, because it was the worst thing that could have happened - a bit of damaged dignity, a bit of personal humiliation and a confirmation of why it had been stupid of him to try, but nothing that couldn't be easily fixed, nothing that might cost him armies and victories.
What he hadn't expected was for Sol to come back for seconds. A long line of seconds. Sometimes even thirds.
Ky never knew what set him off, as there certainly wasn't anything like an agreement to go by. It wasn't like he expected Sol to file a formal request, but he figured even the soldiers who liked to boast amongst themselves, who liked to tell their stories so animatedly that a passerby couldn't help but overhear, needed agreements for their not-so-secret trysts. Sol didn't even seem to have cues, let alone reasons. It didn't matter whether it was a fight or a duel or just words, bouncing back and forth over the space of a map and some orders. Sometimes, it was a buckle, though whether he was latching it open or closed seemed to make no difference to Sol. Sometimes, it seemed to be nothing at all, just silence and when he looked over, Sol would have that gleam in his eyes that meant he better say no quickly or get pounced on.
More often than not, he didn't, because there were few enough moments when he could afford to think of himself, and even fewer if he counted his tendency to fall asleep in the middle of it, to just drift off soon as his head hit the pillow. Pretty embarrassing, that, but pulling 29-hour shifts, he couldn't really do anything to stop it, the tiniest bit of relaxation enough to shut his body down completely. What was more surprising was that Sol didn't really seem to mind that, either, would stay the night despite Ky's fatigue, like not scoring with him was still better than going out and scoring with somebody else.
It didn't make much sense, in Ky's opinion, but he wasn't sure whether that was due to Sol being Sol or because he still hadn't figured out the rules to the game. He would have felt better knowing that he was doing it wrong, as he was pretty sure that wasn't a compliment even to somebody who was notoriously indifferent to compliments. He was also pretty convinced that doing it wrong should have warranted getting shoved to the floor, not waking up at dawn to the burning realization that yes, he'd managed to pass out before second base again, leaving him to squirm out from under a disgruntled weight and get started on the day's work.
So when the motion of the cot jostled him awake that particular night, he wasn't all that surprised to find Sol getting ready to leave.
Or at least, that was what it seemed like at first, the cot swaying jerkily under his back for a few seconds, accompanied by the soft clinking of buckles and zippers. It took him a moment to remember that they hadn't even gotten far enough for any zippers to come undone this time, and another moment to realize that Sol wasn't really fishing around for his shoes. Then, the weight settled down next to him again, Sol shoving his face against his neck and inhaling, accompanied by tiny, jerky motions.
"Hey," Ky said, or tried to, anyway, his tongue still dull and his voice thick with sleep. "Hey, are you... are you doing what I think you're doing?"
A grunt that might have been surprise, might have been something else. "...It's either wank or stare at the wall."
He flushed, the sting of shame hotter than ever before as he searched for the right words. How did one apologize for that sort of thing, anyway? He was pretty sure normal people wouldn't be in this situation in the first place, and there was the distinct feeling that it would be wrong to ask.
Sol seemed to have figured it out anyway, because he huffed and muttered, "G'back to sleep."
"Um... I can help with that," Ky offered, flushing all the harder when he realized how stupid that had to sound. "I'm very helpful."
Beside him, Sol stilled, as if mulling over the offer. "Won't do either of us any good if you zonk out again."
"I'm s-"
"Like I said," Sol replied, somewhat testily. "Go back to sleep. I'll finish up here."
Ky blinked, almost sure the gruff tone could be taken as kindness, and shifted closer.
Sol made a funny noise when their hips bumped, but didn't seem all that inclined to refuse any further. A small tug slid the zipper down the rest of the way, Sol sucking in a breath when Ky nudged his hand away, fingers wrapping carefully around his length. It wasn't particularly refined as far as seduction went, his movements sluggish and a tad uncoordinated, but if the strangled moan against his ear told him anything, it was that Sol wasn't interested in keeping a score. He never was, really, happy to let things get as messy or incompetent as they would as long as the end result was the same, but Ky had been rather pleased to discover that Sol's claim about not having preferences hadn't held up.
Slowly, he ran his fingers down and back up again, roughly swiping the pad of his thumb across the tip, a little jolt shooting down his spine at the shudder he received in response. Maybe they weren't so different, he decided, Sol working to get a rise out of him day after day, and him working to get a rise out of Sol now, thrilled to know that he could, that the little jerks and twitches were all for him. Inching closer still, he reached out with his other hand, letting the barest hint of a charge build up under his skin, feeling the hairs at the nape of Sol's neck standing on end, bristling against his touch.
"Fuck."
Ground out directly against his ear, and Ky smiled, tracing loose circles between his shoulder blades, the profanity like a trophy to keep. "Alright?"
"If you pass out again, I'll... nnn... kill you."
"You know," he murmured, shifting a little more to avoid hitting his nose on the bulk of the headband, lips brushing Sol's temple. "You really don't have to wait around for me. I mean, next time. If you want to do whatever, that's fine."
"You're not... supposed to invite me... to hump your unconscious body," Sol grit out, delivering a reproachful nip to his ear.
Ky shrugged the best he could, smoothing his palm along Sol's cock. "It's okay, though."
"Would you stop... applying your Catholic guilt complex... to a goddamn wank session."
"...Strictly speaking, this isn't very Catholic."
A hand was worming its way to his front, tugging at his belt. "Oh yeah?" came the reply, this time breathed against his throat. "Don't tell me you've been skimping on the Hail Marys."
"Where you're concerned, it's easier to ask for absolution... in bulk," Ky said, his voice hitching on the last word because the fingers had found the small of his back, dipping into his waistband.
"Yeah?" Sol lifted his head, his eyes like two gleaming coals in the gloom, keen with interest. Slowly, deliberately, his lips closed over the bruise at the juncture of Ky's neck, sucking hard. "How many for something like this?"
Ky inhaled, his wits scattering momentarily. "Uh, one."
"Just one?"
"It's you," Ky said, squirming when his mouth traveled lower. It was getting considerably harder to focus on what he'd been doing, the anticipation in Sol's voice making his insides flutter and tighten. "You get... discount rates."
"How about here?" Sol murmured, tongue swiping across his pecs. "Like this?"
"Mnn... three."
Sol's hand dipped lower, squeezing. "And this?"
"Four... I'd say." He really hoped his voice wasn't as breathy as it was sounding to his own ears.
"Only four?"
"You're... you're off target."
"...Uptight jackass," Sol declared, sliding back up.
"Grumpy pervert."
It was a good thing, Ky thought, that Sol hadn't asked about any impromptu value for that kiss, because he was quite certain that it would have warranted three rosaries and possibly a confession. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he'd managed to zap himself and Sol along with him, eyes snapping open at the sudden tingling in every part of his body, but then Sol's tongue was pushing past his lips, and that was pretty much the end of his worries.
The world tilted when he pulled Sol on top, relishing the weight pressing him down, though he couldn't have said where 'down' ended because he was losing touch again. All he could feel was the harsh staccato of his own breath, the small grunt when he tugged too hard and the hair tie became irreversibly stuck, the twitch and coil of Sol's muscles under his hands. He might have made a couple of embarrassing noises himself, might have tried to hook a leg around Sol's waist, might have bitten his own lip because he suddenly tasted blood, though he wasn't sure.
Sol lost it pretty quickly, trembling and cursing softly, hands gripping Ky's hips hard enough to make him hiss in pain. He didn't really stop after that, though, wedging a thigh between Ky's legs, growling words that sounded like "yeah" and "come on" and "give it up", though he might have been wrong on the last one because he couldn't care enough to pay attention, his senses reduced to feel and sound. Then, the ground dropped out completely.
His favorite part was afterwards, even if Ky was sure this made him strange, weightless and weak-kneed though he didn't have to make use of his knees right away, anyway. The moment where he was nothing and nobody in particular, like all his ties to the world had been cut, and if he wanted to, he could become his own heartbeat for a minute or two, or the shuddering breath in his lungs, or the pleasant ease in the pit of his stomach. There was the faint, dull pulse of pain from his hips, and if he looked tomorrow, he'd most likely find two sets of finger-shaped bruises there.
Against his shoulder, Sol stirred, sliding off a little bit even though he didn't really have to, and there was something nice about feeling his relaxation, too, the lazy drape of his arm, the way he was already nosing around to get back in his customary spot.
Ky smiled. "...And you wanted me to go back to sleep."
Sol decided that grinding his knuckles against the top of his head was answer enough.
- Fin -
------
A/N: I fear my fondness of banter is showing again, but then again, I can't imagine these two doing anything without. Mad props go to Twig, who knows why. Comments and thoughts are welcome, as always.
Notes for the Bored:
- One of these days I'll get Ky to talk dirty in French, but he was feeling kinda shy this time around.
- Système TACAN. I should probably feel bad about that pun, too.
<< Return to Guilty Gear Index | Return to Fanfiction Index >>
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: R
Warnings: Porn. Pure, unrepentant porn. And snark. Also, porn.
Notes: Set sometime after the events of Interlude/ Breathing Space, but before Distractions. I should be ashamed that there's a continuity for porn here, but I'm really not.
Summary: Ky has the unfortunate tendency to fall asleep in the middle of things, and Sol kind of doesn't want to wait around.
Système Tacan
The day he got shipped out to the front lines was also the first time he entered an airship.
Ky had seen them, heard them, studied them because there was nothing a future commander shouldn't know, but he'd never been on one, had never experienced the atmosphere so closely; commands being yelled, machines grinding, personnel shoving back and forth to get to their posts. He'd stood on the bridge and stared out the windows, marveled at how tiny everything seemed from thirty meters above, at the way the sun burst into the hangar when the ceiling slowly slid back to reveal the sky.
Death traps, they called them, flying sardine cans, just waiting for a Gear to swoop in and pry them open, but there had still been something exhilarating about it, when the ground dropped away beneath his feet and the thrust was causing the entire ship to vibrate, the pressure in his ears rising just as the airship rose higher and higher, and everything below slowly vanished into an indistinguishable checkerboard of yellow, brown and green.
It had taken time to get used to it, to learn how to clear his ears and how to read the checkerboard at all times, identifying stretches of land by their river bends and the color of their soil alone. And, most importantly, to learn how to live with the vibrations, adjust so he wouldn't stumble as soon as he touched solid earth again, knees too accustomed to the constant rumbling. One thing never left, though, and that was the feeling during take-off, the moment when everything seemed suspended and his body knew neither up nor down, leaving a small flutter behind in his stomach that would surge again whenever they hit turbulence.
In many ways, this felt like the first time in an airship all over again, baffling and uncertain, the breathtaking sensation of losing touch with the ground.
Ky wasn't sure what he had expected out of it, whether he'd expected anything at all when he'd taken that last step, crossed over the ramp and kissed Sol. He'd made up his mind to follow the urge that said he had to, the urge that was no longer satisfied with sleep-addled, half-remembered what-ifs and demanded he take the risk. The same urge that had made him agree to more, and again, against his better judgment.
He wasn't supposed to want things. Wanting things was dangerous, a distraction he couldn't allow, and it had always been easy to shut off the responses, reduce things like food and sleep down to their barest minimum in order to keep things going. Staying awake to plot the next course of action might save a hundred lives or more, after all... what did sleep do?
This, though, was different, something that refused to be denied the longer it went. He couldn't even say what it was, as he was pretty certain curiosity was a poor term to describe the whole thing. He still hadn't figured out Sol's stakes in it.
He'd figured Sol would want to do it the one time, just for bragging rights and the fight material, because there really hadn't been a reason to assume anything else. That was why he'd decided to follow the urge, after all, because it was the worst thing that could have happened - a bit of damaged dignity, a bit of personal humiliation and a confirmation of why it had been stupid of him to try, but nothing that couldn't be easily fixed, nothing that might cost him armies and victories.
What he hadn't expected was for Sol to come back for seconds. A long line of seconds. Sometimes even thirds.
Ky never knew what set him off, as there certainly wasn't anything like an agreement to go by. It wasn't like he expected Sol to file a formal request, but he figured even the soldiers who liked to boast amongst themselves, who liked to tell their stories so animatedly that a passerby couldn't help but overhear, needed agreements for their not-so-secret trysts. Sol didn't even seem to have cues, let alone reasons. It didn't matter whether it was a fight or a duel or just words, bouncing back and forth over the space of a map and some orders. Sometimes, it was a buckle, though whether he was latching it open or closed seemed to make no difference to Sol. Sometimes, it seemed to be nothing at all, just silence and when he looked over, Sol would have that gleam in his eyes that meant he better say no quickly or get pounced on.
More often than not, he didn't, because there were few enough moments when he could afford to think of himself, and even fewer if he counted his tendency to fall asleep in the middle of it, to just drift off soon as his head hit the pillow. Pretty embarrassing, that, but pulling 29-hour shifts, he couldn't really do anything to stop it, the tiniest bit of relaxation enough to shut his body down completely. What was more surprising was that Sol didn't really seem to mind that, either, would stay the night despite Ky's fatigue, like not scoring with him was still better than going out and scoring with somebody else.
It didn't make much sense, in Ky's opinion, but he wasn't sure whether that was due to Sol being Sol or because he still hadn't figured out the rules to the game. He would have felt better knowing that he was doing it wrong, as he was pretty sure that wasn't a compliment even to somebody who was notoriously indifferent to compliments. He was also pretty convinced that doing it wrong should have warranted getting shoved to the floor, not waking up at dawn to the burning realization that yes, he'd managed to pass out before second base again, leaving him to squirm out from under a disgruntled weight and get started on the day's work.
So when the motion of the cot jostled him awake that particular night, he wasn't all that surprised to find Sol getting ready to leave.
Or at least, that was what it seemed like at first, the cot swaying jerkily under his back for a few seconds, accompanied by the soft clinking of buckles and zippers. It took him a moment to remember that they hadn't even gotten far enough for any zippers to come undone this time, and another moment to realize that Sol wasn't really fishing around for his shoes. Then, the weight settled down next to him again, Sol shoving his face against his neck and inhaling, accompanied by tiny, jerky motions.
"Hey," Ky said, or tried to, anyway, his tongue still dull and his voice thick with sleep. "Hey, are you... are you doing what I think you're doing?"
A grunt that might have been surprise, might have been something else. "...It's either wank or stare at the wall."
He flushed, the sting of shame hotter than ever before as he searched for the right words. How did one apologize for that sort of thing, anyway? He was pretty sure normal people wouldn't be in this situation in the first place, and there was the distinct feeling that it would be wrong to ask.
Sol seemed to have figured it out anyway, because he huffed and muttered, "G'back to sleep."
"Um... I can help with that," Ky offered, flushing all the harder when he realized how stupid that had to sound. "I'm very helpful."
Beside him, Sol stilled, as if mulling over the offer. "Won't do either of us any good if you zonk out again."
"I'm s-"
"Like I said," Sol replied, somewhat testily. "Go back to sleep. I'll finish up here."
Ky blinked, almost sure the gruff tone could be taken as kindness, and shifted closer.
Sol made a funny noise when their hips bumped, but didn't seem all that inclined to refuse any further. A small tug slid the zipper down the rest of the way, Sol sucking in a breath when Ky nudged his hand away, fingers wrapping carefully around his length. It wasn't particularly refined as far as seduction went, his movements sluggish and a tad uncoordinated, but if the strangled moan against his ear told him anything, it was that Sol wasn't interested in keeping a score. He never was, really, happy to let things get as messy or incompetent as they would as long as the end result was the same, but Ky had been rather pleased to discover that Sol's claim about not having preferences hadn't held up.
Slowly, he ran his fingers down and back up again, roughly swiping the pad of his thumb across the tip, a little jolt shooting down his spine at the shudder he received in response. Maybe they weren't so different, he decided, Sol working to get a rise out of him day after day, and him working to get a rise out of Sol now, thrilled to know that he could, that the little jerks and twitches were all for him. Inching closer still, he reached out with his other hand, letting the barest hint of a charge build up under his skin, feeling the hairs at the nape of Sol's neck standing on end, bristling against his touch.
"Fuck."
Ground out directly against his ear, and Ky smiled, tracing loose circles between his shoulder blades, the profanity like a trophy to keep. "Alright?"
"If you pass out again, I'll... nnn... kill you."
"You know," he murmured, shifting a little more to avoid hitting his nose on the bulk of the headband, lips brushing Sol's temple. "You really don't have to wait around for me. I mean, next time. If you want to do whatever, that's fine."
"You're not... supposed to invite me... to hump your unconscious body," Sol grit out, delivering a reproachful nip to his ear.
Ky shrugged the best he could, smoothing his palm along Sol's cock. "It's okay, though."
"Would you stop... applying your Catholic guilt complex... to a goddamn wank session."
"...Strictly speaking, this isn't very Catholic."
A hand was worming its way to his front, tugging at his belt. "Oh yeah?" came the reply, this time breathed against his throat. "Don't tell me you've been skimping on the Hail Marys."
"Where you're concerned, it's easier to ask for absolution... in bulk," Ky said, his voice hitching on the last word because the fingers had found the small of his back, dipping into his waistband.
"Yeah?" Sol lifted his head, his eyes like two gleaming coals in the gloom, keen with interest. Slowly, deliberately, his lips closed over the bruise at the juncture of Ky's neck, sucking hard. "How many for something like this?"
Ky inhaled, his wits scattering momentarily. "Uh, one."
"Just one?"
"It's you," Ky said, squirming when his mouth traveled lower. It was getting considerably harder to focus on what he'd been doing, the anticipation in Sol's voice making his insides flutter and tighten. "You get... discount rates."
"How about here?" Sol murmured, tongue swiping across his pecs. "Like this?"
"Mnn... three."
Sol's hand dipped lower, squeezing. "And this?"
"Four... I'd say." He really hoped his voice wasn't as breathy as it was sounding to his own ears.
"Only four?"
"You're... you're off target."
"...Uptight jackass," Sol declared, sliding back up.
"Grumpy pervert."
It was a good thing, Ky thought, that Sol hadn't asked about any impromptu value for that kiss, because he was quite certain that it would have warranted three rosaries and possibly a confession. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he'd managed to zap himself and Sol along with him, eyes snapping open at the sudden tingling in every part of his body, but then Sol's tongue was pushing past his lips, and that was pretty much the end of his worries.
The world tilted when he pulled Sol on top, relishing the weight pressing him down, though he couldn't have said where 'down' ended because he was losing touch again. All he could feel was the harsh staccato of his own breath, the small grunt when he tugged too hard and the hair tie became irreversibly stuck, the twitch and coil of Sol's muscles under his hands. He might have made a couple of embarrassing noises himself, might have tried to hook a leg around Sol's waist, might have bitten his own lip because he suddenly tasted blood, though he wasn't sure.
Sol lost it pretty quickly, trembling and cursing softly, hands gripping Ky's hips hard enough to make him hiss in pain. He didn't really stop after that, though, wedging a thigh between Ky's legs, growling words that sounded like "yeah" and "come on" and "give it up", though he might have been wrong on the last one because he couldn't care enough to pay attention, his senses reduced to feel and sound. Then, the ground dropped out completely.
His favorite part was afterwards, even if Ky was sure this made him strange, weightless and weak-kneed though he didn't have to make use of his knees right away, anyway. The moment where he was nothing and nobody in particular, like all his ties to the world had been cut, and if he wanted to, he could become his own heartbeat for a minute or two, or the shuddering breath in his lungs, or the pleasant ease in the pit of his stomach. There was the faint, dull pulse of pain from his hips, and if he looked tomorrow, he'd most likely find two sets of finger-shaped bruises there.
Against his shoulder, Sol stirred, sliding off a little bit even though he didn't really have to, and there was something nice about feeling his relaxation, too, the lazy drape of his arm, the way he was already nosing around to get back in his customary spot.
Ky smiled. "...And you wanted me to go back to sleep."
Sol decided that grinding his knuckles against the top of his head was answer enough.
- Fin -
------
A/N: I fear my fondness of banter is showing again, but then again, I can't imagine these two doing anything without. Mad props go to Twig, who knows why. Comments and thoughts are welcome, as always.
Notes for the Bored:
- One of these days I'll get Ky to talk dirty in French, but he was feeling kinda shy this time around.
- Système TACAN. I should probably feel bad about that pun, too.
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