Title: Twice the Demon
Author: Sabaku-no-Ai
Disclaimer: Belong to me, Vincent Valentine and Yazoo do not.
Summary: Words are useless, especially if you have guns.
Pairing(s): Vincent x Yazoo
Warning(s): Man/Man relationship, gun!kink, suggestive themes, slight angst
A/N: Short ficlet thingy for angelkairi of Livejournal. She made me gun!kink for Christmas, and I'm doing it for her. :D …slightly angsty, though. :/
For the past five hours, it remained unnecessary to speak. No, their hearts weren't ready, their minds not fully aware. Words continued to echo and chip away at their defenses until their inner cores were punctured and bleeding, dying on the floor. Simple greetings became civil wars, and farewells sounded like the apocalypse.
It was coming soon.
"…It's best I leave." The raven-haired man said, standing from his seat by the window; his silhouette was beautiful, perfect, despite the fact that the man had slept in a coffin for forty years.
Brilliant chartreuse eyes rose to glance at the other's general direction. He was tempted to stop the man. He remained silent, a curtain of silver hiding his emotions.
Unfortunately, Vincent expected a response. Sighing, he walked across the cheap inn's decaying plank floors. His brass-plated shoes clanked irritatingly, shattering the silence. He stopped by the door, about to reach for the knob. He paused, a hand instead flying to his sheath. He forgot his—
"You wouldn't dare." Then came silky words as cold metal pressed against the back of Vincent's neck, sending a slight shiver down his spine.
"Yazoo—"
It pressed even harder to the man's nape, warning. "Shut up." The platinum-haired male replied quickly, hurt resounding in his words. His eyes narrowed, and the gun he held slid from Vincent's neck to along his dark hair. Although wild, they were like ribbons, soft and flowing continuously until the other's mid-back. Once again, it was tempting.
Yazoo pressed his leather-clad body against the man's, thudding against the wooden door. Hands traveled, searching. They settled around the other's shoulders, fairly long nails engrafted on the skin of the other's cheek, practically scratching. Tucking his head on the crook of Vincent's neck, he pierced the tender flesh with sharp canines. The taste of iron seeped into Yazoo's mouth.
Vincent's hand merely twitched at the stinging sensation, but couldn't help but tilt his head back slightly, showing more of his throat.
The hand that held the gun trailed down, brushing along Vincent's inner thigh as it travels higher, slowly applying pressure once it reached between the other's legs.
This wasn't ethical in the least. This—actions like these…has brought upon yet another sin on the raven-haired man's shoulders; and even so…it was too overpowering, too much of a temptation. It consumed the both of them.
Words weren't at all imperative; it's because their hearts and minds weren't ready for it. But their bodies were puppets, and their lust the puppeteers. Their love was a story line, and their guns, the playwright.
A/N: Whoa--that just came out. XD; REVIEW PLEASE! ...I didn't do the proper planning, nor was I really inspired much. I was just hungry for some gun!kink. :) Hope you like it, angelkairi.