Title: Beginnings and Endings
Author: kikokus (AoiTsukikage)
Rating: R-ish
Characters/Pairing: Law/Sanji
Chapter: 1/1
Word Count: ~800
Beginnings and Endings
It starts as a flicker, a spark of mutual attraction as quick as the burst of flame from his lighter before it touches the tip of a cigarette.
It starts as a shared glance, an understanding, a yearning desire for contact and release after years without it.
It starts quick, and dirty, and above all silent, lips crushed together and limbs intertwined, the swaying storm lantern sending thin beams of light skittering over their supple bodies, reflecting the shimmer of predatory golden eyes and mottling dark skin with streaks of amber.
It starts with a pointed look, a sure hand dipping between his thighs and back, a mouth like a branding iron pressed to his throat, and his body responds eagerly, without resistance, a shaky breath the only sound in the silence as lithe fingers take him apart from the inside.
It starts gentle, careful, his body going pliant under measured, clinical touches that still leave him open and wanting in a way that almost frightens him with the force of his need, as if those inked fingers have awakened a part of him long repressed, a part of him set alight by a fierce hunger that threatens to burn him alive.
It starts with pressure, his body adjusting to a long-absent sensation, fingers scrabbling at blanket-covered floorboards and mouth opening in a soundless cry, breath coming in shallow bursts as hips start to move with almost inhuman rhythmic precision, deep thrusts that bring him undone completely and overload his senses.
It starts with a shift, an insistent tugging, a closeness that leaves his breath mingling with another's, hands pressed to swirls of black ink, and it's too hot, too slick, too much, light-headed and shaking and wanting, no, needing release so desperately, like a string pulled so tight any more will cause it to break clean in half, an agony soothed only by the touch of those same steady fingers, staunchly unwavering even in the midst of their shared, frantic passion.
000
It ends just as quickly, coiled bodies unfurling with release, fingers clutching at shoulders marked red with the force of his grip, as if trying to cling to sanity itself, his vision exploding in a supernova, chest heaving, limbs shaking, mind blank.
It ends awkwardly, lingering heat washed away by the coolness of the hold's air, sweat-covered bodies shivering, eyes unwilling to meet, separating as quickly as possible, suddenly vulnerable in the absence of lust.
It ends with hands reaching for clothes in the need to get away, a perfect suit to cover how imperfect he is, armor against a world that sees anything less than unwavering confidence as a weakness, a world that seeks only to break him down, make him doubt, leave him with nothing.
It ends with a hand closing around his wrist, a quick glance over his shoulder, a split-second of honest emotion flickering in honey-hued eyes, a rare window quickly frozen over with ice so thick no light could melt it away, but it was enough, enough to caused his leaden limbs to unfurl, enough for his fingers to drop dark fabric and leave one of his safety blankets behind for the rarest of moments.
It ends with a hiss of flame and smoke, lips curled around a cylinder more familiar than any lover, just as likely to kill him but safer in the end, the sharp scent invading his nostrils and filling the air around them, reliable in a way that another human could never hope to be.
It ends with reverent fingers trailing over his body, touching him as if he were made of glass, as if he would shatter if pressed too hard, his own hands unbidden returning the caresses, knees bumping and bodies coming back together, the space between them now shifting from uncontrolled lust to careful understanding, acknowledgement of what had happened and why it had happened at all.
It ends with a kiss, a slow press of lips and tongue, an unexpected gesture of affection his body responds to immediately, a sudden unbidden craving to be close, to touch, to wrap himself in toned tattooed arms and let the world turn without him for a while, beneath the soft protection of a blanket warding off the cold and keeping them safe in the dark, even as the lantern flickers out and his cigarette burns to nothing more than ash.
It ends without words, because in the darkness, sharing breaths and body heat, trust starting to bloom slowly between them like a flower reaching toward a long-hidden sun, heedless of an outside world that would seek to separate them the very next day, words aren't needed at all.
Notes:
1. This...kind of turned into an exercise in style and I wanted to post it here because, despite the length of it, it took me a long time to write since it's so different from my normal prose. I probably won't write like this very often, but feel free to let me know if it's even any good for what it is!