a/n: One of my readers called me the "Gintsu smut/cohesive plot queen" and I felt like I should honor her in some way and fashion.

Dirty Little Secrets

-x-

Every other week, he picks up the phone before the start of my evening shift in Yoshiwara, and we both say our "hellos" but never will we mention each other's names on the line where someone might hear, ever. It makes it less real. He's a client who won't ever have to pay, and to most eyes and ears I'm just another hooker in a red light district.

"Four o'clock in the morning?" he asks, and I agree. That's the end of my shift, the time where the courtesans go home to wash all their makeup off and finally drift off to sleep after a night's worth of entertaining arrogant, terrible men.

I've listened to him call my name, in reverent whispers. I know exactly when his mind shifts from reality (and here, I mean the reality of him being a family man to his two kids, a dog, and the rest of Kabuki-chou) to the fantasy we've both chosen to indulge in. Maybe I'm riding him, or maybe he's fucking my brains out, but nothing brings me to a heady climax faster than him calling out my name. It feels real. Until the evening ends and we've landed back to reality again.

We're not decent enough people to start a proper relationship. Smokey rooms filled with the scent of cheap perfume are all marks of another evening in Yoshiwara. When I hear him sliding the door, making sure to place the "DO NOT DISTURB" sign in the right spot before closing it, I'm relieved. There's always that niggling feeling in the back of my mind that says he won't come, not this time; and that he thinks I'm as easily disposable as Ayame. The truth is, she's twice as brave as I am. She can proclaim to the whole wide world that she's madly in love with this man; I can't.

Our room was dimly lit. In the middle he could see my back, the black kimono halfway draped to reveal scars marked on my shoulders. I was smoking, sitting not too far from the window.

"You're late," I say, keeping tone neutral.

"Sorry," he replied.

His boots made a clunky sound on the tatami floor. I steady my shaky hands by lowering my pipe.

"I didn't think you'd actually come."

He laughed. "You're funny. How was work?"

"Tiring. I'm glad it's over."

Our first kiss of the night is a conversation in itself - he disposes of the need for small talk by cupping my face, tangling his fingers in my hair, sliding down my back, over my hips, pulling me close to him. This has always been the easier choice for the both of us, who have always been cowards when it comes to our inner thoughts. I will never ask for a definition for what we are, and he will never engage in anything riskier than this.

He pulls out the hairpins from my head as I bury my nose in the crook of his neck. I love the smell of his strawberry shampoo and that strange combination of booze, shaving cream, and the heady fumes of his motorcycle that he uses to drive himself all the way to Yoshiwara from Kabuki-chou in the dead of night. There are two Gintokis I know; the one in the daytime is a lazy bum who never pays his rent and holds an enviable collection of Shonen Jump.

The other Gintoki I happen to be intimately familiar with is a man who comes in the night and takes whatever the hell he wants.

You might wonder how I ended up like this. Of course it doesn't make any sense. I hated men. The only man I ever trusted was Shishou. And then Gintoki came along with a lazy smile, and tore down the shackles that'd kept the women of Yoshiwara subjugated for years. He made it look so effortless.

And still - I don't believe in love at first sight. Never have. I've seen courtesans hooked into easy smiles and promises of something more, only to have their hopes and dreams smashed the morning after. And yet... I've foolishly taken a chance on this man.

Was it at a gathering where Hinowa had slyly pushed me towards him and he'd suggested a walk with me around town for some fresh air?

Or was it the moment where months after we'd confiscated the love incense and I tried my best to be happy simply being next to his side, he suddenly decides to press his lips against mine in an alley where no one can see us?

You can protest gropings in good faith and not reveal any of your secrets, even if you admit to yourself that you might have feelings for the person who groped you. But a kiss? After years of me saving his life and years of saving mine? I couldn't say a word. That night, I stood there silently in front of that man, my lips hot and wanting more of him, leaving my body numb and breathless.

"Oi," Gintoki says quietly, and I'm reminded of exactly where we are again. "You're zoning out again."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No, it's fine."

I take my last puff and tap out the ash before lying my pipe to the side, closing the window. He never complains about how filthy my mouth tastes. During those precious minutes when the darkness of night melt away, we know those moments are for us. There's no one to impress, and that, I think, is what he misses more than anything.

His fingers know exactly where to loosen my kimono, and he removes the weapons from my waist with such finesse that I barely notice as he presses sensual, open-mouthed kisses against my neck and down to my shoulder. A while ago, this would have frightened me and I would've smashed his head into the nearest wall. Now, not so much. As he pushes me into the futon, I'm half naked. When his hands reach down and slip under my kimono to gently knead my breasts, I'm already gone.

Like clockwork (or sorcery), my body heats up on cue. He kisses me languidly, sweetly - and I can briefly see his white-blue yukata from the corner of my eye. My hands press against his chest, pulling down the zipper of his black shirt. After I'm done with this, his palms skims down to my waist and pulls the rest of my clothes off, leaving me entirely nude.

The heat of his gaze on my body is something I'm still not used to, even though we've already gone through such arrangements before.

He chuckles. "No panties?" My cheeks turn bright pink. He'd noticed.

Gintoki presses kisses everywhere, and I let him. "You shouldn't be embarrassed," he tells me after brushing a hand across my ample chest, nimble fingers finding and rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "I've missed you. Kinda."

"What kind of bullshit statement is that supposed to be?" I ask, but stifle a moan. Are these words part of the game we're supposed to play together? If so, I've chosen to go along with it.

He dives into my mouth, taking my lips as his fingers work his way all the way from my chest to my pussy, already wet with need. I moan in between kisses, his thumb applying steady pressure on my clit as his index teasingly brushes against my G-spot, finger fucking me so slowly it takes all of my self-control not to impale myself on his hand. And he - damn him to hell! - knows that I want him bad. He's too busy laving his tongue over my breasts and I gasp, the dual sensation becoming too much to bear.

"G-Gintoki - " I manage to whisper, my voice strangled by all of him.

He ignores me, choosing instead nip at my collarbones.

"Gintoki, please," I beg, trying to angle my hips in a way that'd let him get the hint. My words lands on deaf ears until I yank hard on his silvery head of hair.

Finally, he rises above me, a wicked grin stretching from ear to ear. "Yes?" he drawls arrogantly.

"You know what I want."

"Then say it out loud," he said, his fingers teasing me but never fully satisfying my increasingly urgent demands to be fucked hard.

"Please, I - "

"Say it out loud, Shinigami Dayuu."

I could feel his erection rubbing against my inner thigh and for one hot second I want to scream at him. He's infuriating in bed, almost as much he is outside of this room. That title isn't supposed to be a goddamn mockery or a sign that he has total and utter control over me.

But I won't get what I want if I do that. I swallow, and in that moment he knows how bad I need him.

He knows.

My eyes are lowered. "Fuck," I bite out, hating him and myself at the same time. "Fuck, Gintoki, I want you to fuck me. Please."

How did I become so depraved at his hands? It wasn't ever supposed to become like this.

He hooks my leg up to his shoulder, kissing the arch of my foot before moving on to press his erection against my damp sex. "Think of this every time you throw a kunai at my head, Tsukuyo," he says softly, a smirk on his lips. His body was closer to mine now, and I could feel the head of his cock slide against my entrance.

I growled at him, trying to lower my leg, needing to be able to wrap it around him but he held me firm, leaning down yet more. Then I tried to shift my hips and move my other leg, but he moved the hand at my shoulder down, straightening my leg back out against the futon.

Sometimes I really hate that I've picked one of the strongest men I've ever met in my life to sleep with.

Then he shoves all of himself inside me, and my mind blanks out, because fuck, it feels so fucking good.

Pushed up like this on his arms, I knew he could see me beneath him. I knew he could watch me close my eyes and bite my bottom lip when he stroked deep into me, and look down between my legs to see himself wet with my cum, entering me again and again.

Despite all of this rampant lasciviousness, I happen to love every second of it.

"I've been thinking about this for days," Gintoki hissed as he thrusts hard and fast into me. "You always look so arrogant, Tsukuyo. Like you're too good for anybody to give you a proper fucking - "

"It's not - ah! - my - ah! - fault - "

He responds by shutting me off the quickest ways he knows: kissing me. Withdrawing for a second, he gives me a shit-eating grin and says, "Fuck you too," before plunging his entire cock balls deep into my pussy.

And with that witty rejoinder, I come so hard that I almost black out.

-x-

It's almost noon when I wake up. My head's groggy, and I hate everything before I remember what I was doing last night.

Oh, right.

Gintoki.

Usually he just straight up leaves after I fall asleep, mostly because he can't afford to split the hotel bill. But I guess today's different.

"You're still here," I mumble, my eyes screwed up from the bright sunlight.

"Yeah," he said. "I didn't think it'd be right to leave."

He reaches out for a strand of my hair, twirling it absentmindedly.

"Why didn't ya?" I asked. It doesn't seem all that normal for both of us to be lying here in the daytime, after the sordid activities of yesterday.

"I wanted to watch you wake up," he said honestly. "And to be frank... " His eyebrows furrowed a little. "I'm tired of sneaking around like this. We're more than that, right?"

"You didn't seem like the guy who wanted any serious relationships," I answer him sleepily.

"Right, yeah." He stops twirling my hair. "At first I didn't... but I changed my mind."

"Is the sex that good?" I ask him.

"It's not about the sex, per se," he allows, though there's a faint smirk lurking around his lips. "But I wanna stop pretending like I don't wanna kiss you every time I see you."

He dips his head down to place a kiss on my neck, his breath ghosting over my skin and making me shiver ever so slightly.

"What do you say?"

I look at him, and smile.

-x-