It▓s the wrong time, and he▓s in the wrong place to be more interested in noting the texture of weather wore bricks under his finger tips and cheek. It▓s just like this morning, he had observed the soft texture of the pillows and blankets on the bed, the fresh scent that was hiding underneath the mixed tangle of smells that belonged to him and his partner. Under the smell of blood and worn cologne with hints of soap and sweat, not to mention the almost over powering yet faded smell of sex that the sheets had emitted, it was entrancing.

His partner was always alerted to his spaced out mood, since he was always so vocal during their hardly rare intimate moments. Safe to say, he saw to it that he was brought back to attention very fast.

But today was just one of the days where he was paying more attention to his surroundings, even with the heavy weight against his back and hips and the almost burning feeling of being stretched open with out any form of slick lubrication. There is fingers tips digging into his hips, bruising, freshening the fading marks from the days before and even that morning. The voice he had become all too accustomed to hearing, nearly growling in his ear. The heat gathering between their bodies was stifling but he really didn▓t noticed.

Because of the blood on the wall. The blood had belonged to the body laying at their feet, between their tangled legs really. The scent is heavy in his nose and throat, and the liquid is smeared all over the side of his face and it▓s matting his hair, but really all he can think about is how awesome it is to be doing it like this. The brick is cutting into his cheek with how rough and worn it is, but that▓s only adding to his excitement as his body is forcing his mind to focus on the intrusion slipping in and out of him, moving smoothly thanks to his own blood.

He curled his fingers against the wall, his left hand sliding in the blood splatter, but his right hand has traction, and his nails bite into the concrete in between a pair of bricks. And then he▓s moaning into the wall, and he can literally feel his partner▓s appreciation that he▓s finally snapped back to attention, since his thrusts got sharper, more rough. More attention demanding. Even though it▓s painful, he cants his head at the odd angle so he can look the other in the eye, a grin pulling the corners of his mouth up coyly. The grin is returned only with a bit more malicious intent, and there▓s a brutal thrust directly into his prostate and it takes all he has not the scram right there.

Gritting his teeth, the blonde punisher releases a rush of air through his nose, pushing his hips back against the taller man.

⌠C▓mon Old Man. I know you can do better. Give me more.■

He doesn▓t have to ask again. He never has to ask more than once unless Kiriwar is feeling adventurous, or just plain mean. One of the hands abandons his hip. Obviously the older man is feeling generous, he doesn▓t often curl his fingers around Gunji▓s arousal unless he▓s in a good mood. But the blonde isn▓t complaining, no far from it. He can▓t help but to do more than groan as the other brings him to completion, and it hits him hard.

Even in the middle of the bliss he still finds it in him to cackle at the fact that they have no regard for the dead, much less those they killed. Because his come is currently dripping down the face of the nameless idiot that broke the rules, and he▓s laughing as the other finishes up before pulling out.