O V E R S A T U R A T I O N

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It Was Obvious

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Strange infatuation

Obvious.

It was obvious and he knew it. In the same manner in which his fighting style always left clear openings for attack, in the same way in which he slept spread out so carelessly. He knew it.

Obvious.

It was in the way he he held his sword; that too-long slide of fingers against the worn sheath. The pace of his breath, that shallow, aggravating dip of it when he closed his eyes rather than be caught glancing at the curve of the other man's neck, the straight lines of his shoulders.

Imagination

If not for those rare stops to... Prostitutes. Brothels. ...Those sloe-eyed, soft-fleshed, high-priced whores. But even then... It was obvious. Because he never touched them the way he wanted to touch him. They never moved how he invisioned he would. Scent, vision. He purposely blurred his heightened senses, dulled them down so that he could just clamp his mouth over a woman's mouth and pretend it was him.

Correlation

Mugen opened his eyes, sliding effortlessly away from the floor mat, making his way to the door.

They had enough money to stop at an inn, enough to purchase two rooms. Enough that he could pay for his need.

But he was stupid sometimes. The moment he turned to look toward Jin's sleeping form, he knew it.

"I instructed Fuu to sleep with the money purse."

Obviously.

"What?"

Jin sat up, yukata partially open, glasses missing, hair loose in the weak lamplight. "You don't have enough money to pay for this brothel. Can you not wait for the next?"

Slipping

Sliding the door shut, he threw himself back onto his mat. The clean-cut scent of flowers, of hot springs and newly washed clothes was an irritance. Better to sleep than sink so low as to steal money from a sleeping woman.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he felt his hand go for the sword, felt a steady weight on top of him.

Jin.

Jin was straddling him and the blade of his sword was millimeters away from cutting open the white skin of his throat.

"Promise or no, I will kill you. Get. Off."

Ignoring the sword at his neck, Jin leaned forward, a hand placed firmly on either side of Mugen's head. "You really are the worst kind of man..."

Mugen would tell himself later that his hand slipped. That the sword had dropped out of his hand. That he hadn't been the one to pull on Jin's hair and dragged him down for a kiss. That he was probably drunk. That since he had no money, he might as well have---

Jin dug fingers into Mugen's shoulder, hand pulling away at his altered hakama. His face hovered over Mugen's as his hand cupped the man, who was uncharacteristically still beneath him. Mugen's heart was beating frantically in his chest as he wrapped fingers into Jin's hair, pulling hard.

"Don't think this will make me any more honest."

Oversaturation

Obvious.

Aches. Bruises. Half-moon impressions against his hips, his steps uneven, halted as the three made their way out of town.

Mugen forced his way in front of Fuu. He didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to think about it and so he bit his lip and shoved his way forward.

That man...

Cursing as he tasted blood, he shut his eyes for a second and a glimpse of Jin's panting face flashed into view. His sword felled the branch of a tree. And it was enough. To make it obvious.

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Hmm. Y'know. I don't like the Mugen/Jin (or Jin/Mugen) pairing too much. Can you tell? I wanted to see if I could write it, but apparently I'm useless at it. Oh, well. This was written back in June. Will probably have to be re-written.