a/n: Actual 50 Shades of Grey bullshit down below, but much shorter and hopefully more palatable. I don't feel like making this story M rated for just one chapter, so skip down to the second -x- if you don't want to read two people having a good time together.
-x-
Everybody has something that makes them strange.
For Gintoki, it's his sugar fix. Sacchan has her masochism. Hinowa has her... delusions.
It stood to reason that she lets herself be stupid for Shinsuke after a lifetime of selflessness. There's a certain thrill in being chased by a man this dangerous. When she's next to him, she can forget that her love will go unrequited. With him in bed, she can forget her duties and honor that ties her to Yoshiwara.
After all, it's nothing special when a woman has to exchange her body for something in return. It won't be the first or the last time in this city. And yet, something screams out organically for him.
He won't kill her.
In return, she won't kill him.
At first, she freezes, and her heart is beating too fast until he slowly reaches out for the sash of her kimono. He moves accordingly, and tears the beautiful fabric into pieces with her kunai.
An unspeakable vow has already been made between the two of them. He ties a strip of cloth around her eyes and she lets him because the alternative of Yoshiwara burning down in flames is something she cannot allow as the guardian of this city. It has already happened once and she lost things she could never get back.
He yanks out the hairpin from her head and relishes her wince of pain. He wonders what sort of person could have scarred that pretty little face of hers. Whomever it is, they're probably just as fucked up as he is.
He tells Tsukuyo to put her hands out. Like an obedient doll, she acquiesces with a numb resignation. This is happening; she is naked, vulnerable, away from any sort of weapons, blinded, and in front of the most dangerous man she can think of. The final nail in the coffin resounds when he securely binds her wrists together and pushes her arms above her back.
To her surprise, he doesn't disappoint, with one searing kiss on her neck. He sinks his teeth in and the delicious pain spreads throughout her entire body.
His hands roam freely, he doesn't miss a single inch of her supple skin. He cups her breast and willingly she lets out a moan.
"Good girl," he says. In the dark, her nerves are on fire, hypersensitive to his every touch.
Her back arches slightly when he finally kisses her on the mouth, and his lips taste like ash - but she welcomes it more then he expected. He pulls back and then leans in deeper, grinding his hips into hers.
"So even the Courtesan of Death has needs," he mutters softly, shedding his yukata and setting it aside. "How... unexpected."
His fingers cleverly slip down to a place that makes her beg for more. Slowly but surely he gradually maps out her pleasure points and she is at his mercy, quivering helplessly under him, his voice in her ears and his hands on her body.
When he slides inside of her heated core, she feels full and tight to the brim. A hand steadily grips her hair, and ordinarily, it'd be painful but this is nothing short of exhilarating to her, knowing she's getting fucked like this. His stream of obscenities do nothing except to excite her.
He's not a gentle lover by any stretch of the imagination. In just a matter of minutes the famed Shinigami Dayuu has been degraded into a cheap two-bit whore, reduced to a simplistic flesh vessel for the pleasure of a man who has a strange fixation on her of all people.
She loves it all the same.
Nothing is off-limits. She screams his name when he thumbs her clit in perfect tempo to his thrusts. He clamps his hand over her mouth, driving her even more insane by muffling her moans. It was sweet agony, her inability to touch him, but becoming utterly dominated like this was still pleasurable in its own way.
Her climax catches her off guard, and suddenly all she can do is to feel, not think - feel how her insides are bristling with jolts of pleasure; how her lower body contracts once, then twice, and thrice.
She moans and shudders, and moans some more into the palm of Shinsuke's hand before she falls off the peak, descending into rational thought again.
It's his cue to thrust even faster, and he finally lets go of her mouth, fixing both hands on her waist so that he can angle himself in a way that'll let him come as quickly as possible. All pretenses aside, he's intent on finishing it his way now that she's been satiated. And for how hard he's pounding her, she is surprised at how much it doesn't hurt. The sheets are disarrayed with how hard he's pushed in her into bed, and he comes with a groan. A wetness drips out of her, languid and lazy when he pulls himself away from her.
She hears him getting dressed. Then he picks up a kunai; her body goes rigid before he cuts away the fabric that binds her wrists together. He gently unties the blindfold, the dim light making little difference to her eyes.
Shinsuke lights up his pipe. Exhales, inhales, exhales. He tosses her his shawl so that she won't go home naked, though truthfully that's the least of her concerns.
There aren't any words to be exchanged between the two of them. Not now, and not back then either. She says nothing. He leaves the room with nothing but the smell of sex and smoke that she knows will be gone tomorrow in this very room.
-x-
Hijikata pressed the doorbell on the Yorozuya's front door and scowls when he sees Gintoki coming out, yawning with his hand in his permy hair.
"Damn cops, don't you have a job to do this hour of day?" is the first thing that comes out that man's mouth, but the issue that Hijikata is thinking of is too serious that he ignores the insinuation.
"Shut up. I wanted to talk to you about something in private."
"Oh, really? Something scandalous, huh? Finally got into trouble for snorting up mayonnaise?"
-x-
Eventually they end up in Battle Royale, a nice café where Gintoki promptly demands Hijikata to purchase him four strawberry parfaits. Hijikata buys him three.
"There's rumors that Takasugi Shinsuke has a lover in Yoshiwara." Hijikata taps out a cigarette from the box, and lights it up. Gintoki pauses, mouth full of syrup.
"So why should I care?"
"You know half of Edo," Hijikata says. "I need a lead."
"I don't keep tabs on terrorists," Gintoki replies testily.
"Please," Hijikata says, frustration beginning to build. It's humiliating that he's having to ask this jerk for help, but he's still the Shiroyasha. He's done his own research, and he knows that Gintoki, for all his nonchalance as an unemployed loser, still has connections that run deeper than the Shinsengumi's.
"Oh, has the Demon Vice-Commander finally bowing his head to me?" Gintoki asks, grinning. "Look, I got nothing. I know jack shit about what that guy is doing and I don't care, either. But I do know this lady who knows Yoshiwara inside and out. If there's anyone who would know, it'd be her."
"A woman... ?" Hijikata is skeptical. "You're saying that I'll have to ask a prostitute for help?"
"God, you're so..." Gintoki is half amused and half exasperated. "... She's not one of those, but who cares if she is?" He pops a strawberry into his mouth. "Anyways, Tsukuyo might be able to help you out. Maybe she'll even help you get laid."
"What are you insinuating, you permed asshole?" Hijikata yells, and instantly every eye in the restaurant turns on him. Gintoki, unfazed, says, "Don't worry everyone, I'm just trying my best to have a civilized conversation with a tax robber." The diners laugh and turn to their plates; Hijikata is incensed but can't say anything in return. Taking deep breaths, he taps the ash off his cigarette.
"Like I said, if there's one person who knows who's fucking who - oh for God's sake, stop blushing - it'd be her. She's the guardian of that city."
"How do I find her?"
"Ask for the Courtesan of Death. She'll come."
-x-