A/N: I've been working on this fic on and off for about a year or so, and I finally managed to finish it. Kagura and Okita's relationship dynamic has always been fascinating to me, so yeah. This fic is an exploration of the more serious sides of it.

Note: This is four years in the future, so Kagura is eighteen and Okita is twenty-two.

Warnings: Sexual content with emphasis on BDSM-related content, themes, language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gintama. This fic was written solely to entertain.

The Devil is in the Details

To her, the degenerate-ridden streets of Yoshiwara were both familiar and unfamiliar. That was to say, that while the secret city of sin that once lay beneath Edo once held both fond and not so fond memories for her, in recent times, it was beginning to hold a different type of influence on her more matured, but still very impressionable mind. It was fairly warm out for that time of year; at times, it felt like the dull heat from the hundreds of neon signs only added to the warmth under Kagura's kimono collar.

With an annoyed sigh, Kagura tugged at one of the sleeves of her kimono, pulling the simple purple material down until the pale skin of her shoulder was exposed. It wasn't much but it helped a bit, and with a more contented smile she tugged the other side down as well before tightening her obi, lest her clothing, now slightly askew, fall all the way down.

A couple of older men whistled at her as she walked by, but she paid them no mind. Her impromptu strip tease was not for their entertainment and she had no interest in anything they had to offer, be it money or their, quite frankly, repugnant company.

Not that who she was going to see was any higher up on the scale. In fact, she dared to say he was much worse than those old men, because while it was true that they were disgusting, lecherous perverts, at least everyone could see them for exactly who they were. Kagura supposed that that old saying, the one about it always being the quiet ones, held some truth to it after all. Sougo wasn't exactly 'quiet', per se, but it still made her think of him. Particularly when memories of their past… escapades… came to mind.

There wasn't anyone else in Yoshiwara, or even all of Edo, for that matter, who could do the unspeakable things Sougo did to her behind closed doors. And certainly not with the same calm, yet horridly twisted smile that he reserved only for her.

Sougo was a monster, a true sadist among sadists. But unlike the men who lurked regularly in Yoshiwara, he was a monster with a disarming smile and pleasant disposition. Appearances meant a lot in Edo, and no one would think that a young, handsome police officer could be hiding such a sadistic personality behind his good-natured teasing and wide, innocent-looking eyes.

Like Gin-chan had said to her many years ago when they had first crossed paths with the Shinsengumi, Sougo was a sadistic, black-hearted demon that was blessed with the face of an angel.

She never really understood what he meant by that until they were older and Sougo started showing interest in her, and not just wanting to pick fights with her and beat her ass into the ground. He was a notoriously smooth talker, but she didn't know just how smooth until his usual teasing and instigating began to seem less like teasing and more like flirting. She found out fairly quickly that it was very hard to say 'no' to him. He was blunt about his wants and needs; something that Kagura had a hard time keeping herself collected about at first, though she shouldn't have been surprised. Sougo was shameless from the day they met and he had only gone downhill from there.

And yet, in a frustrating show of contradiction, he also wasn't persistent in the slightest.

At first, Kagura would've likened it to pushing a jellyfish along the tide. Sougo went with the flow of her moods, never forcing anything. He would ask her out, she'd roll her eyes and walk away, he'd shrug and continue on with his day. If they happened to be at the same ramen stand together, he'd casually pay for her meal too. When she walked past him on the street, hand-in-hand with her new boyfriend, he just teased her like usual.

Although…

It was split-second, but she did notice the way his lip twitched when her boyfriend introduced himself, as if he wanted to laugh. That had infuriated her, but deep down, it also made her very insecure about her decision.

And on that night months later when she realized just how conflicted she was about her feelings, he laid her down on Gintoki's desk, tugged her underwear off, and didn't let her up until she came to the conclusion that there could be and would be no one else. Until the only name she could utter amidst her moans and the violent and yet oddly rhythmic lurching of the desk was his.

Come to think of it, that had been the first time she had called him by his given name.

It didn't matter that everyone was downstairs in Otose's bar drinking and carrying on, her boyfriend included, nor did it matter that she avoided him for an entire week afterwards. Kagura soon came to realize that he purposely left her alone after that. Not because he was ashamed of what had transpired between them, but because he was one-hundred percent confident that she would eventually seek him out to make sense of things. Whether she liked it or not, they were beyond the point of no return. Just like that, they had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and no matter how many times that week she ducked into an alley to avoid being spotted by Okita and tried to pretend he didn't exist, at night she would stand naked in front of the bathroom mirror and stare at the lovebites on her breasts and stomach, as well as the bruises on her hips from where Sougo's hands had been gripping her tightly, and think to herself that things probably weren't going to be the same between them again.

Although she was certain that everyone, Gin-chan especially, had their individual suspicions (leave it to Gintoki to notice something as trivial as his desk suddenly shifting two and a half inches to the left), their first time together remained their dirty little secret. Even up until now, Kagura thought. And yet when she finally worked up the nerve to face him, he treated her as if nothing had happened. He still made fun of her for eating pickled seaweed, and he still made sly comments about her chest.

The only real difference was, when she would finally snap and aim to hit him, instead of meeting her head-on as he would've in the past, and as she expected him to, he would just laugh and side-step her attacks.

"Relax, princess, I'm just playing." He would say before running after Hijikata, who was far ahead by then.

As it turned out, it actually wasn't a matter of persistence or confidence at all. It was simply that Sougo didn't care much for dramatics, nor did he care to romanticize their relationship in any way. There was never any talk of a formal 'boyfriend/girlfriend' relationship, or marriage, or anything like that. Okita simply liked her a lot better than other girls, but didn't feel like putting forth the effort to make it known to the world. He just didn't see the point in that at all.

Neither did Kagura for that matter and for once, it was something they agreed on. Keep it casual. If she wanted him, he came to her. If she told him to back off, he did so without question. No big deal.

And it worked, for a while. Sougo was as casual as they came, almost to a fault sometimes.

… But that didn't mean he wasn't an opportunist at heart. Sadism and opportunism, after all, seemed to go hand-in-hand.

"Hey, you know that time we did that thing…"

"You mean when we fucked on Boss's desk? What about it?"

"Oiii, why do you have to make it sound so freaking filthy, asshole?"

"Aaah, that fairy- tale romance bit is so played out though, China girl. People nowadays like it quick and dirty."

"…"

"Something on your mind?" Although it was obvious he knew what she was going to say.

"We should do it again, sometime." Of course, he didn't miss a beat.

"How about right now?"

Kagura supposed they both should've been given a medal for their clearly impressive restraint up until that moment, because no sooner had he uttered those words when Kagura tackled him to the ground, already ripping the cravat from around his neck and getting his uniform covered in dirt and dew from the grass.

Kagura snorted into her hand at the memory, if only to pretend that her face wasn't beet-red at that moment. The only real 'restraint' shown that night was when Okita had to resist the overwhelming urge to drop her leg from over his shoulder, roll her over onto her stomach, and take her again from behind.

He was still on duty, after all, and he could only be gone for so long before Hijikata noticed that he wasn't at his post.

Although… he did have a few minutes to spend cleaning her up.

Sometimes, it was really annoying that Okita seemed to be good at pretty much everything he did. Sadists weren't allowed to be that perfect or blessed, but at that particular time, Kagura recalled, she was very, very glad that Okita was as good with his fingers and tongue as he was with his hips, among other things.

They both left the park with little kinky grins on their faces, both thinking to themselves that next time (and there was going to be a next time, it was an undeniable fact) it would be even better.

And after that night, their…whatever they called it, persisted on the basis of what would be, would be.

They began to spend a little more time together, whether it was when he was on patrol, or when the Shinsengumi and Yorozuya happened to be in the same place at the same time. Sometimes they'd meet up for a bowl of ramen, and sometimes they'd check into a hotel for some much needed alone time. Whenever anyone asked why they were suddenly so close, or better yet, if they were finally an item like everyone had assumed they would be from the day they met, they were always met with one of two answers: it's complicated. Or a half-empty death threat and/or insult, all the while being told to mind their own damn business.

Either way, it was just easier to say that than try to explain that they were happier doing 'couple-y things' without actually being a couple. Their differing lifestyles often played a role in that as well, seeing as how, Sougo especially, was usually busy. But as it was, everything fell into place and after a time, she felt comfortable with the way things were going. And it seemed that for the most part, Sougo was too.

But in retrospect, Kagura thought now as she walked down the street, it should've been obvious what was really going on. In reality, there was a world of difference between a lack of persistence and silent cunning, especially where Okita was concerned.

In the 'one step forward, two steps back' thing going on between them, it seemed like after every second step back, Sougo would shuffle forward a little when she wasn't looking. Just enough so that she wouldn't notice the distance between them gradually getting shorter and shorter, until before she realized it, he was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his lips on her cheek, asking, no, telling her to call him 'vice-commander' next time.

And his handcuffs around her wrists.

He was a nice guy, but he was also an infamous 'S'. It shouldn't have been shocking in the slightest when he finally let that side of him come out. And to Kagura, it wasn't.

When it came right down to it, Kagura thought as she continued walking, it was more like that nature show she and Gin-chan sometimes watched on TV really late at night when they couldn't sleep and there was nothing else on. Sougo was like a komodo dragon, and she was the wildebeest that he had just bitten. It was a grotesque way of picturing their relationship, but at the same time, it seemed weirdly accurate. He attacked and bit her, and then calmly backed off, letting the toxins from his bite slowly seep in and take over her system. He would court her at his leisure, in the same way the komodo dragons on the show trailed after their dying quarry for days, watching hungrily as the animal died a slow, agonizing death.

She supposed she could've picked a snake or something just as easily, were it not for the fact that she specifically remembered thinking to herself how especially sadistic and brutal the komodo dragon's hunting process was in comparison. It was a bloody, gory mess, and frankly a blatant show of how twisted Mother Nature could be.

A lot like Sougo, actually.

And over time, through his calculated smiles and touches and misleading nonchalance, he somehow wore her down and won her trust.

And now, no matter how hard she tried to resist or deny it, every Saturday night, she found herself walking the streets of Yoshiwara toward their usual rendezvous point. As if she were under a spell, her feet moved on their own towards the place where Sougo would be waiting for her, that same, irritatingly smug look in his eyes. It was like clockwork, Shinpachi said to her once, when he and Gintoki finally realized that Kagura and Okita weren't just the two violent kids in the bunch that had to duke it out every time they were in the same room together anymore.

Over time, that word started to grate her nerves, because she hated that it was true.

Every week, she went through the exact same mental process, trying to rationalize at what point in their relationship the tables had turned indefinitely in his favor. When was it exactly that the sadist had finally broken her? When did it change from her telling him to go fuck himself when he asked her out, to him calmly telling her which lipstick to wear?

And her immediately telling him where to shove that same lipstick as she herself was shoving it in her purse?

The precarious balance of power in their never-ending rivalry had shifted long ago and the only person who was more aware of that than she was, was Sougo himself.

Every week, she stood in front of their favorite hotel despite her vehement protests from the week before that she would never do this again, clutching at the hem of her short kimono like an anxious child.

And she was anxious.

Something about standing in front of the tall hotel, infamous even by Yoshiwara standards, by herself made her feel extremely vulnerable. It always made her uneasy for some reason, from the second she entered the lobby right up until the point where she was standing in front of the suite door. A deep breath to ease the tension in her body, and she turned the knob.

And like the Devil himself, she found none other than Okita behind the door, seated in one of the cushioned chairs at the foot of the bed. A jug of hot sake and two glasses were on the table next to him, one empty and one half full. He was deftly stroking the length of a shiny black riding crop, a faraway look in his deceptively innocuous eyes, like he was looking at not the toy itself, but the soft, unyielding flesh that would soon be coming under it.

"You're early."

Fantasizing momentarily interrupted, Okita looked up. "I know."

Kagura closed the door behind her softly before walking over to him, her eyes locked with his all the while, finally coming to a halt between him and the bed. Okita silently filled the empty glass and handed it to her. Kagura accepted it, equally silent, and downed it in one go. Okita smiled at the shiver that passed through her body as she drank the liquor. She hated the taste of it, but it really loosened her up.

"What's our safe word?" He asked as he took the glass back from her.

"Komodo Dragon."

A brief look of confusion passed over Okita's face before he shrugged it off and nodded in acceptance. It was okay, Kagura thought. He didn't have to get it.

Kagura took her hair out of the two buns, letting it fall onto her bare shoulders briefly before pulling it back up into one tight bun. Okita quietly watched her as she worked, his expression filled with strangely innocent fascination.

From her now elegantly done hair, Kagura trailed her hands slowly, sensuously, down her neck and breasts, letting them fall on the obi holding her kimono together. With a slow tug, it came undone and fell to the floor, followed by the rest of her clothing. She stood there in front of him, in nothing but her black panties and stockings.

The Devil really was in the details, she supposed, just like she did every week. But one day, she swore she would find the answer to this puzzle that had eluded her for so long.

Okita reached his hand up, wordlessly asking her to come closer, biting his bottom lip. Kagura's breath hitched when his warm thumb passed over her nipple, a tiny spark of want shooting through her core in that instant. He trailed his hand down her side and onto her hip before looking up at her with a small smirk.

One day, she would figure out why Sougo's touch, taste, the sound of his voice, the things he did to her, everything about him, made her fall to pieces.

Okita pointed towards the bed with the crop. "You know what to do."

Kagura turned around and crawled up on the bed, letting her chest and stomach touch the bed gently. She braced herself on her forearms to keep her balance. To her right, she noticed a large mirror.

It wasn't surprising. Sougo was a bit of a narcissist when it came to sex. He liked to watch himself in action, and he also liked to see her face while he fucked her. It was meant purely for his satisfaction, but Kagura was secretly glad it was there. Outside of the bedroom, the thought of watching herself get screwed truly disgusted her but in the moment, it was arousing. Fast-forwarding to later in the evening, she pictured Okita taking her from behind, the way he would lean forward and wrap a hand around her throat as he fucked her harder, the muscles of his arms and stomach tensing and relaxing in tandem with the movements of his body…

…it made her feel hot.

As she watched Sougo shrug off his uniform coat and toss it over the back of the chair, her mind immediately returned to that nagging question: When had this become the norm for them?

When had this become okay?

She watched Sougo roll up one of the sleeves of his undershirt, his eyes briefly connecting with hers in the mirror before he looked back down to fix the other sleeve, a darkness swirling in his eyes that made Kagura grip the bed sheets in anticipation.

And at that moment, Kagura abruptly realized how silly and pointless her speculations were. They didn't matter then, and they probably never mattered to begin with.

Okita had the crop in his hand, twirling it idly. Coupled with the evil grin on his face, he was the picture of sadism.

Perhaps, she thought, she might get all of her answers one day, but tonight was not that night. And that was okay, because she had finally managed to work out one tiny but crucial detail.

It wasn't clockwork, or voodoo, or anything. Okita was a sadistic bastard from the beginning and she knew that. He hadn't tricked her. It was simply the progression of time, and the progression of a sadist in his sadism.

Kagura looked at him discreetly in the mirror. The crop stung on her skin as he brought it down again and again, so much that tears were welling up in her eyes, but she watched him through it.

This was Okita trusting her with a side of him that everyone knew about, but at the same time didn't know at all.

This was Okita at his most honest, and maybe even, arguably, at his most loving. It was a weird notion, Okita being 'loving', but Kagura found that it was also a pleasant one when she thought about it like that.

And maybe, just maybe, the fact that she continually indulged him, no matter how many times she would say she'd never do this again, meant that the feeling was inherently mutual.

Or maybe, deep down, she was just a masochist.

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