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Entry tags:
[6-Sep-2022][Ayatsuri Sakon] Sparrow
Title: Sparrow
Date/Prompt: "No [THING], thank you. No thank you. [THING] NO. No thank you [THING]. NO."/09-6-22
Fandom: Ayatsuri Sakon
Character: Kazuki/Sakon
Ratings/Warning: explicit 971wc, rivals in dubcon.
Sakon never slips from situations easily, to his detriment and others'... pleasure. Amusement, at the very least. There's something swirling in the depths of his black eyes, cold and grey, and Sakon refuses to read it.
He knows what it means. People stare all the time. Men nudge each other, two-faced and sly with a tap, and mutter things he can't pretend to ignore. Pretty face, ah, look at that.. boy.
Date lacks even the subtlety of street whisperers with his uncanny ability to infest the space between Sakon's ribs, spreading a fog of filth and warmth from paces afar. The detective hadn't felt fear in a long time.
Kazuki's fingers tap into the tan, crisp coat hung knee-length, the new shoes tapping against concrete, assessing Sakon in an oddly neat way with a bent head and a finger grazing his lip. Sakon can't tell if the drug slinger is appraising his worth to rubies or livestock.
"You are very.." Date steps forward, shoving his hands into his pockets. "pretty."
He strolls forward.
Sakon's eyes narrow. His jaw sets with a strong click and he pulls himself from the wall, inching away from Kazuki's path. He forgets he's in line of a window if he moves a pace to the right, not just a wall, now.
"No."
Startled by Sakon's response, Kazuki laughs quietly. He turns a pace, lazily pacing a circle once before smiling. In that moment, his eyes shine with the kindness he presented—an entire facade, truly—at their first acquaintance. They look momentarily kind, but settle into the twinkle of dark amusement.
"So, we don't agree." Kazuki says, he tilts his head. "You are not beautiful; hm, I think you are."
Kazuki is amused. Sakon is a fighter, but no brute; he is lithe and graceful, limber in acrobatics and almost demure—now, he's a flightless bird, a caged songbird.
He continues, "I am a collector of fine things."
There's purpose behind those words, as an blank expression tugs at the corner of his mouth, crowlike. It buries under Sakon's skin with whiplash.
He chokes back a breath and inhales sharply through his nose, taking a step away. He isn't afraid of much of anything, but every movement strangles him like poison ivy seeping down his throat.
Kazuki stands an inch away, long silver hair ghosting Sakon's lips. One finger touches against the button of the coat, pressure against slick fabric from where his wrist rests now flat against it. The coat shifts. Sudden movements draw attention; a chuckle dances in Kazuki's throat and on Sakon's lips, deep, sleek, alive. Dark enough to be pleasant.
Predator, too.
If nothing else, Kazuki has awareness. He isn't stupid nor slow. To dodge, or resist, or use brute, absolute force— Sakon has no doubts of his defeat in combat or the drug pusher's swiftness.
Sakon forfeited his advantage the moments his legs locked against the wall.
The detective swallows.
Sakon's hands fist as he edges away from the warmth. This might be some sadistic flirtation, but it has gone too far!
"Don't touch me," Still smiling, Kazuki's wraps his fingers around one fits, lifts it in offer. His hand encapsulates Sakon's tinier hands. His slit eyes are silver-doll blue in the dark night. "ever."
"Why not?" His fingers slid under Sakon's overshirt, running over the ridges of his ribs through the tanktop. His palm slides up, exploring the curves through thin with an open palm. "Surrender to this."
The detective uncomfortably shifts his legs, and Kazuki takes the opportunity to press closer, pinning Sakon against the window completely. If he goes much further, his ass will meet the glass pane of the building. Heat pools uncomfortably in his abdomen.
"You'll like it more than you thought."
Sakon will vehemently dislike it.
Kazuki nudges a leg between his, coaxing them apart and further from the source of resistance.
Sakon's eyes widen in revelation. His eyes flicker up, then fall. His thighs separated themselves, wide and... His thighs clench tightly on the rigid leg, but instead of his intention of relieving the pulsing down south and making himself less uncomfortable, it makes his hands grip for purchase.
His breath spasms as the leg lifts, almost dangling him off the ground and does it again. His breath shakes, and Sakon barely catches the murmur of words over the pulse in his head, beating against his skulls and between his legs.
Sakon gasps at the sudden pressure when Kazuki's leg really starts moving. It grinds hard, and it grounds him back into reality. It doesn't take more than a second for the horrible realization to set in.
His fingers threaded into Kazuki's jacket long ago and haven't let go. It's like he's pulling him in, and he can't. He won't.
His arms fall back against the window.
"No."
"Surrender."
Sakon won't admit to it, but Date is right; his mind isn't entirely agreeing with his words. But he won't. He wills his body and mind to obey, to settle, to think rationally though there may come a point where that'll be difficult.
The puppeteer reminds himself of his surroundings. This is not affection; this is lust born of worse blood.
"No."
"Surrender." Kazuki murmurs.
His gaze dipping low, regarding the muscles of Sakon's throat, pale and smooth, his breath dances across Sakon's neck. His hand ducks under Sakon's shirt, and Kazuki's lips hover over pink ones.
There's still fire dancing in the moon of his eyes.
"No."
Sakon exhales shakily.
Kazuki knows that this songbird cries sparrow-like songs. There's something obscene about the possession and worship of taste. The resistance. The boy will say no, and they will dance this dance regardless, no matter how Sakon angles and pulls away, angles and pulls towards.
"Surrender."
The yakuza knows his answer. Sakon's voice is swallowed by a kiss.
Date/Prompt: "No [THING], thank you. No thank you. [THING] NO. No thank you [THING]. NO."/09-6-22
Fandom: Ayatsuri Sakon
Character: Kazuki/Sakon
Ratings/Warning: explicit 971wc, rivals in dubcon.
Sakon never slips from situations easily, to his detriment and others'... pleasure. Amusement, at the very least. There's something swirling in the depths of his black eyes, cold and grey, and Sakon refuses to read it.
He knows what it means. People stare all the time. Men nudge each other, two-faced and sly with a tap, and mutter things he can't pretend to ignore. Pretty face, ah, look at that.. boy.
Date lacks even the subtlety of street whisperers with his uncanny ability to infest the space between Sakon's ribs, spreading a fog of filth and warmth from paces afar. The detective hadn't felt fear in a long time.
Kazuki's fingers tap into the tan, crisp coat hung knee-length, the new shoes tapping against concrete, assessing Sakon in an oddly neat way with a bent head and a finger grazing his lip. Sakon can't tell if the drug slinger is appraising his worth to rubies or livestock.
"You are very.." Date steps forward, shoving his hands into his pockets. "pretty."
He strolls forward.
Sakon's eyes narrow. His jaw sets with a strong click and he pulls himself from the wall, inching away from Kazuki's path. He forgets he's in line of a window if he moves a pace to the right, not just a wall, now.
"No."
Startled by Sakon's response, Kazuki laughs quietly. He turns a pace, lazily pacing a circle once before smiling. In that moment, his eyes shine with the kindness he presented—an entire facade, truly—at their first acquaintance. They look momentarily kind, but settle into the twinkle of dark amusement.
"So, we don't agree." Kazuki says, he tilts his head. "You are not beautiful; hm, I think you are."
Kazuki is amused. Sakon is a fighter, but no brute; he is lithe and graceful, limber in acrobatics and almost demure—now, he's a flightless bird, a caged songbird.
He continues, "I am a collector of fine things."
There's purpose behind those words, as an blank expression tugs at the corner of his mouth, crowlike. It buries under Sakon's skin with whiplash.
He chokes back a breath and inhales sharply through his nose, taking a step away. He isn't afraid of much of anything, but every movement strangles him like poison ivy seeping down his throat.
Kazuki stands an inch away, long silver hair ghosting Sakon's lips. One finger touches against the button of the coat, pressure against slick fabric from where his wrist rests now flat against it. The coat shifts. Sudden movements draw attention; a chuckle dances in Kazuki's throat and on Sakon's lips, deep, sleek, alive. Dark enough to be pleasant.
Predator, too.
If nothing else, Kazuki has awareness. He isn't stupid nor slow. To dodge, or resist, or use brute, absolute force— Sakon has no doubts of his defeat in combat or the drug pusher's swiftness.
Sakon forfeited his advantage the moments his legs locked against the wall.
The detective swallows.
Sakon's hands fist as he edges away from the warmth. This might be some sadistic flirtation, but it has gone too far!
"Don't touch me," Still smiling, Kazuki's wraps his fingers around one fits, lifts it in offer. His hand encapsulates Sakon's tinier hands. His slit eyes are silver-doll blue in the dark night. "ever."
"Why not?" His fingers slid under Sakon's overshirt, running over the ridges of his ribs through the tanktop. His palm slides up, exploring the curves through thin with an open palm. "Surrender to this."
The detective uncomfortably shifts his legs, and Kazuki takes the opportunity to press closer, pinning Sakon against the window completely. If he goes much further, his ass will meet the glass pane of the building. Heat pools uncomfortably in his abdomen.
"You'll like it more than you thought."
Sakon will vehemently dislike it.
Kazuki nudges a leg between his, coaxing them apart and further from the source of resistance.
Sakon's eyes widen in revelation. His eyes flicker up, then fall. His thighs separated themselves, wide and... His thighs clench tightly on the rigid leg, but instead of his intention of relieving the pulsing down south and making himself less uncomfortable, it makes his hands grip for purchase.
His breath spasms as the leg lifts, almost dangling him off the ground and does it again. His breath shakes, and Sakon barely catches the murmur of words over the pulse in his head, beating against his skulls and between his legs.
Sakon gasps at the sudden pressure when Kazuki's leg really starts moving. It grinds hard, and it grounds him back into reality. It doesn't take more than a second for the horrible realization to set in.
His fingers threaded into Kazuki's jacket long ago and haven't let go. It's like he's pulling him in, and he can't. He won't.
His arms fall back against the window.
"No."
"Surrender."
Sakon won't admit to it, but Date is right; his mind isn't entirely agreeing with his words. But he won't. He wills his body and mind to obey, to settle, to think rationally though there may come a point where that'll be difficult.
The puppeteer reminds himself of his surroundings. This is not affection; this is lust born of worse blood.
"No."
"Surrender." Kazuki murmurs.
His gaze dipping low, regarding the muscles of Sakon's throat, pale and smooth, his breath dances across Sakon's neck. His hand ducks under Sakon's shirt, and Kazuki's lips hover over pink ones.
There's still fire dancing in the moon of his eyes.
"No."
Sakon exhales shakily.
Kazuki knows that this songbird cries sparrow-like songs. There's something obscene about the possession and worship of taste. The resistance. The boy will say no, and they will dance this dance regardless, no matter how Sakon angles and pulls away, angles and pulls towards.
"Surrender."
The yakuza knows his answer. Sakon's voice is swallowed by a kiss.