A/N: The first chapter on a series of short drabbles involving how Kamui and Shinsuke think and act when being together. The chapters are not necessarily connected, nor dependent on the others to be comprehended.
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The Meaning And Implications Of Sex, And The Ponderings Of It
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Sex, three letters, one word, it makes a slight hissing sound at the end, easy to pronounce and its meaning is well known across the universe. Is done so often and practiced since so long ago that not knowing the basics in this era is really, a sign of idiocy. Kamui knew, of course, what sex was about, he knew the basics, what it implies, how it is supposed to be done, that it is a basic way to procreate and that the feeling of it is supposed to be good. Unfortunately he was never interested in such things. All he cared about was strength, food, a good fight, and sleep. Easy things. Simple things. Making Kamui happy is very easy, is as easy as making any other yato happy. Actually, it was even easier, since sex was off the table and he simply wasn't interested on this.
So, when he met a samurai of purple kimono with golden butterflies his first thought was that he wanted to fight him. He wanted to know if he was as strong as the silver-perm-headed samurai he'd met on earth, and his yato blood was itching for it. He wasn't bothered in the slightest to put that fight off for a while, since the Seventh Division of the Harusame ended joining forces with the Kiheitai. He wasn't bothered by spending time knowing the earthlings and their habits learning more about the Kiheitai crew to escape his boredom. And he most certainly wasn't bothered with Takasugi Shinsuke's company, the fact that he wanted to throw a punch at his chest, to kick him swiftly in the head and to get a fitting response to his actions on the other's part was a completely natural thing
No. Kamui was most certainly not bothered with having such a strong individual close by and not having a fight with him. His fingertips didn't itch and his impulse was not being heavily restrained behind the beatific smile he had on his lips. He also wasn't resisting the urge of taking that damn pipe (kiseru: he later learned the thing's name) he smoked all the time and shove a few mint candies down his throat, nor did he want to put said candies inside Shinsuke's mouth with his own. He wasn't imagining the many ways he could simply overpower the samurai with his raw strength and rip the kimono off his body leaving scratches and bite marks along the way. There were no fantasies of having him bent over and moaning his name 'till his voice got hoarse, nor were there any wishes of filling the other with pleasure. Nope. There was nothing of the sort in the redheaded yato's mind. Sex wasn't something interesting to him. Not one bit interesting. Nope. All the yato wanted was strength, food, a good fight, and sleep, nothing more.
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Sex, a common topic with anyone who is growing up and/or going through puberty. It was a very common occurrence especially between the young boys to discuss and be interested in such thing, since their hormones are all over the place. Those urges naturally start to go down as time passes by. Shinsuke had passed through a normal puberty, getting to know about sex the usual ways: asking, by eavesdropping, through drunktards passing by, reading magazines, etc. And once the need to know was filled, once he learned the important bits, he no longer had any interest in the subject.
Shinsuke had become a man whose only goal was to burn the world that had killed his teacher, to raise hell and destroy everything in his path; sex was the last thing he thought about. So, once he met the captain of the Seventh Division of the Harusame Pirates, he saw an opportunity to gain a powerful ally for his quest. He wasn't bothered with the yato spending time on his ship; it was good that they were getting to know their allies in such peaceful manner. He wasn't bothered to have his food reserves at a bare minimum because of his guests, nor was it a bother to him the constant presence of the redheaded captain, now admiral, following him around with that creepy and seemingly permanent smile of his, asking many questions like a kid.
No. Shinsuke was not bothered. He didn't feel the need to cut the man in half with his sword, his hands didn't itch to rip off that damn hair antenna that moved to this side and the other like it was fucking alive. No, he didn't want to shut him the hell up forcibly with his own mouth. He wasn't feeling the urge to corner him to a wall and tear those clothes of his that covered too much, leave him with cuts and bruises all over his pale skin, nor did he had the desire to have him on top of him completely bare, to ravish him and get his throat raw from moaning loud, almost screaming, effectively wiping that damn smirk from his face. Nope. That wasn't it. All the samurai desired was the military power he gained with the yato on their side to destroy as much as he could, nothing more.
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And naturally, neither of them was bothered with spending time in the same room, alone, for a few hours, while their subordinates worked together to fix a rather sudden and unexplainable malfunction in their systems. They weren't losing their minds from all the feverish thoughts in their little violent heads. Nope. This didn't end up with them doing what they hadn't been thinking about for weeks. Those two didn't fuck so loud and violently it was a miracle only the walls heard them. They didn't have to cover up all the nasty and telling marks on their bodies afterwards. No. Not at all.
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