A/N: I'm very thankful for the reviews because this isn't a very popular pairing, so whatever I get is very appreciated.
What lays in a man's heart, in his soul, in the recesses that store his deepest, darkest desires? It's not very hard to figure out what every man craves because the wanting, every man's wanting stems from generalities based on the human psyche, the human history, the human error…
Wealth, the greedy fool who covets monetary value because he believes in gained status, believes in a fake respect it will give him, believes in image, and luxury. He is a clown of his avarice. I despise these fellows the most because they are always the weakest. Then there's the man who holds the power of his fist above everything else, the man who fights with his pride on the line, but a man who also kills for blood and sport. I've run across many of these in my journeys and I must say they are quite troublesome, if a bit slow--I'm certainly thankful for Gato when those type of brutes show up--And last, and certainly not least, the advent of the abstract protagonists. Fighting for ideals, for people, for love, for revenge…
I could consider myself apart of this collection, but my goal, my revenge has a higher purpose. It's not a foolish ideal, it's not a romantic song, but a deterrent to evil and all that is malicious. It is the true gospel. I rather detest dreamers and I rather detest the lovers that have been drawn to this abstraction, but the one good thing about these fellows is that they can be manipulated through their fleeting emotions and used to serve my purpose to the fullest.
My Gato was unfortunate enough to be cast into the role of the love-starved, a role that I've taken quite to in my quest for ridding Shangri-La, of ridding the world of demon kind. He protects me, he bows before me, he loves me, and in exchange, I let him take as much mortal love from my body that he can have.
It's no surprise at how effective this has worked over the years, how utterly obedient, how tamed he is in my presence.
Man is a slave to his body and my Gato is no exception.
Like tonight, it doesn't take long for him to come to me, head bowed, silent, and pleasing. There isn't a man alive that can approach me like Gato does and simply win my favor with his quietness. Sometimes, I wonder if these reasons have anything to do with why I let Gato into my bed without any fuss, or any resistance. I suppose he just always catches me in the right moods, although he can be very persuasive.
"Heavens aren't you utterly exhausted, Gato?" He doesn't say anything to this, just rests his large hand on the top of one of my legs. "I guess not." He doesn't press, just waits for the answer that lets him place his other hand on my knee and pull. My back hits the mattress with a thump and there's the creak of a knee pressing into the bed next to my left leg.
He hovers and I wink at him from my place under him. It seemed the answer he had been waiting for, and he slides a hand under my arm and as he crawls forward to the top of the bed he takes me with him. I laugh because he's so direct in his approach, not like a normal human being at all, but I feel that wasn't something that I had tampered with when under that tree --Ages ago, under that tree that waved in the breeze and called sinners to it like the Apple Tree of Paradise -- it was just the way Gato had always been. He did not hold onto embarrassment like normal people, he just went ahead on his path without a second glance back.
I pulled off his bandana and I helped him out of his vest and took my time with the buttons of his shirt as he was sliding his pants off. I could feel the muscle in his shoulders moving under my palm, the controlled strength, and the devastating power one swing could inflict on his enemy. It sent shivers up my spine as I slide my hands over his back and I wrapped one leg around his waist.
My coat had been off upon entering the door and it did not take long for the rest to meet the same end. I turn my head to offer Gato a side of my neck and he buries his face into the soft skin there as I focus on the feeling of his mouth, of the drizzling rain outside, of the smells in this little inn room, the mundane sights: my nightgown spread over a chair, my medallion on the night stand, shoes at the entrance, the raised end of a mat.
I look down and I can see the scar across Gato's nose, and his skin, dark against my own. He licks at my throat, his hand moving for my hair and his calloused fingers brush through, once, twice, and then stops in an act to cup the back of my head. He doesn't prepare me, like he used to. He's stopped doing that because my body's become so used to it, so used to the motions of nights like these. He just holds my knee up and pushes in and for a bright second, I feel pain. Pain that Gato strangely has caused me.
Tonight, he gives me pain and tomorrow I will give him more.
He groans, presses into me harder and soon he's rocking back and forth within me, a steady rhythm that makes his breath rise and fall in a way that I've never seen, even when he's fighting. The pace picks up; he pulls my hair a little and moves so he can cover my mouth with his. He kisses me hard and my arms around his shoulders tighten because the touch of him inside of me is rubbing against the walls of my body. Is awakening that dead spark of humanity within me that can only perceive through our joining, through the feel of his hand between our bodies.
He stops inside of me, and I hum at him because the pleasure his hand gives me is steadily building as I twist around in the sheets, burying my head in his shoulder and encouraging him with each keening moan that comes panting from my mouth, until finally I'm still and spent in his arms. He bucks within me coming at the sound of my whimpers and he slumps, his weight causing the air in my lungs to leap out of my chest.
"Gato, Gato, you're going to crush me if you don't pick yourself up." He shifts, pulls out and rolls over. I wrap the covers around my waist and my nightgown is suddenly held out in front of me.
"Here." He sits on the bed next to me and I slip it on quietly. I smile at him, and the serious expression on his face softens a bit until he leans forward and places a hand on my shoulder. "You should try to get some sleep."
"Yes. I should, shouldn't I?" He nods his head and I crook my finger at him, calling him closer. He shifts on the bed and it groans under his weight --I can't blame it-- "Did you enjoy yourself?"
He halts upon coming closer, the muscles in his back tensing up. The anxiety apparent in the way his eyes can't meet mines and I trail my fingers on a patch of sheet that separates us.
"It didn't take very long? You surprise me, I didn't know you were that…keyed up."
It bothers me that he doesn't just let himself get embarrassed, and that if I could control this emotion from him, I think I would have a better grasp of his actions, of his control, of his pleasure.
"Come now Gato, no need to be so dense. I'm jus' asking if you liked it? You never speak of any of it, so I do get a teensy bit offended, dear."
He takes a hold of my hand, like an ailing man and I grimace at his actions.
I pull my hand away.
"Awright, go ahead. I don't feel up to this tonight." I shoo him away with my hand, and lying back down, I close my eyes because that hadn't been the reaction I'd been baiting for. He can be so tiring sometimes. My Gato. I feel him rise from the bed and hear him as he walks over to the desk. I open one eye to see him picking up a chair and close it suddenly just in time as he walks over to where I am. I can hear him sit down, and it isn't hard to figure out what he plans to do for the rest of the night.
Silently sitting here and watching over me as I sleep. I turn to face the other side because I can already feel his eyes staring at my face and it makes my neck warm the way I know he's looking at me.
It angers me.
It irritates me because he knows that I need my rest if tomorrow is to be another eventful day. I need my strength, I need his strength and if he's going to squander it on getting an eyeful then he might as well just plead for more love.
He doesn't though, which bothers me even more. He just quietly watches, and I think how devoted my Gato is and that if given the chance, if this night would continue on forever, he would do just that.
A/N: Eeegads…never listen to Dir en Grey and Chemistry while trying to write a fanfic. It makes the author very conflicted. Heavy metal/Sweet boy pop ain't a good mix. I hope somebody likes this and as always, reviews are very much appreciated.
