A/N: I am afraid this is slightly overwrought, but I am in an overwrought frame of mind. I must be. I wrote het, for the love of god! But you lot are the best judges for that, yeah?
He was an addict. Jin, whose life had been based on restraint and control, was now being held by the grip of addiction. It felt like addiction at least, as he slid his fingers down Shino's soft, pale arms and watched her painted lips part slightly as she sighed. It was more potent than a hit of opium and he couldn't control himself any longer. This high was all encompassing.
Jin leaned forward and buried his face in her hair as he let his hands travel her body. They knew every place that she needed to be touched, as if he'd been with her for a life time and not just the last four days. He slid into her finally and her arms moved up his body and wrapped themselves around his neck. She pulled him closer to her and the feeling of her beneath him, as she held onto him so tightly that they might meld together, served only to send him higher.
This was not romance or chivalry, not the things he'd studied at the dojo or yearned for as an adolescent. This was love of another sort. This was addiction and the emptiness of despair. Money had changed hands for this. Even still, it was an emotion more real than anything either of them had felt in a great while. Maybe ever.
He could make her come, which never happened with her other customers. She could trust him. And when she did come and he followed soon after, they muffled their cries in each other's necks and lay wrapped up in each other until their bodies had cooled and their sweat had dried.
The high was over then, and they had to come down. They had to think again. Thinking was pain enough to drive her back into his arms, even from a position halfway across the room, and to cause him to mold fluidly around her. They did meld then, a bitter-sweet amalgam, and for those transient moments there was nothing that could tear them apart.
When she talked it was of everything that was unimportant. He gave that to her, watched her hands fly in the air above them while they lay on the mat. He gave that to her because she didn't have anyone else to listen, and even small freedoms were better than none, were they not? But she disagreed, because as she dressed and allowed him to speak she denied the validity of his plans to free her and begged him to please, just don't.
He couldn't ever stand it when it came to that, couldn't stand that she might be in pain because of him, that he might have caused her burden to become heavier. And so he was always across the small room in an instant and behind her. Solid arms wrapped around her chest and the hardness of his cock pushed against the small of her back and she gave in. He never moved as she reached up to pull her robes back down. When her shoulders were exposed he always kissed them softly to remind her that it was him and he was there for her. He paid for the extension willingly, because no matter what his actual feelings for her were, in the end, most importantly, he was an addict.