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Gintoki did not expect this when he took a late-night stroll through the city. He wanted to forget the loneliness that haunted him whenever Kagura wasn't asleep in his cabinet. He didn't want to imagine how she could eat her fill at Soyo-hime's—something he couldn't give her. There, she had a comfortable bed, not the cramped space in his home, and she could play with Sadaharu as much as she wanted.
Gintoki didn't want to think at all. He didn't want to feel anything at all.
He certainly didn't want to run into the one person who could make him turn his back on his resolutions. Especially not tonight, not when he was feeling so worn out that he had forgotten to take his carefully crafted mask off the hanger before leaving his place. He had hoped he could just empty his head, let his thoughts be whisked away by the cool evening wind, but instead they were pushed back to the back of his mind, sat there to fester till they hit him again full force later. Now, all he could muster were the possible reasons for the demon vice-commander of the shinsengumi to look so forlorn and downright miserable.
Raven hair disheveled, uniform out of place where it used to hang in the epitome of tidiness. Cigarette butts were scattered around the small space he inhabited. Another one hung forgotten from his lips. His left leg fidgeted with no signs of calming down. Eyes downcast, he stared at something much bigger than the pebbles on the ground. Something akin to his self-made nightmares, stuck on a plane made out of heavy burdens. Trying to escape felt like casting away sins to haunt reality.
Gintoki could've just turned around right then and there, walked away –yeah, right as if he ever could– and just ignore the blood clinging to the Ravens person like a testimony to his life.
But he was just kidding himself; it didn't take long for his legs to betray his mind by obeying that annoying voice he'd spent years suppressing. Cutting away at his emotions, letting them fall similarly to the victims on the other side of his sword. He didn't need them; they were useless baggage only existing to push him into the dirt. Graveling on the ground, corpses of his past piled atop. Choking on the muddy path, head tearing inside from the thunderous screams. Nothing left but an empty shell of a fearful myth of the battlefield.
So why? After all his eyes had witnessed, his heart trembled whenever that what he suppressed reflected so clearly in the smoke.
There was no need for words, and no way to escape when Hijikata’s eyes met his from under his lashes, which shielded the most vulnerable part of the man, even now.
Gintoki grasped the chill that was Hijikata's hand, and without saying anything, dragged the man along. It was time to go home; being a lonely, sad old man could wait a little longer. There was plenty of time for that later.
The self-loathing could take a backseat for a moment, drowning his sorrows in the sake he would surely end up ordering, no longer held any meaning.
If he didn't act now, he knew the regret would join the many other ghosts dragging his body, shitty hitchhikers gaining a kick out of his misery in the middle of the night.
But he wouldn't let Hijikata become one of those regrets; that is one thing his heart would not allow his mind to consider.
The walk back to his place was met with death silence, besides the gravel dispersing beneath the steps, heavier than the world. Parades filled with lingering pain fell in step behind them, shadows stretched out along the blood of the battle. Innocence embodied in the abandoned teddy bear along the road. A child's wish screeched through the barricade, enabling the long list of ways to make it stop.
Neither spoke a word.
Not needing empty words which only urged the icy chill to cut deeper.
Hijikata accepted how Gintoki just dragged him along, seemingly having no energy to fight back or to even mutter a small jab at his mess of a perm, which was more of a habit than a legit insult.
One that had seamlessly woven itself within their daily routine. Days felt lacking and bleak without the banter or weak smiles shared in secret behind sake cups.
Turning a blind eye to the wreck each was, mutely offering the comfort of the living. Conveying understanding of the weight so vast and different. No fraudulent words which aided the thriving void in one's soul. Only brisk eye contact through the translucent liquid that numbed the horrors.
Hijikata matched his steps, cigarette fell down to the ground somewhere forgotten. The fact that he did not rush to light a new one was a big red flag to anyone who knew him deeper than just the man in the uniform, who desperately tried to protect what he held dear. His addiction to those toxic sticks ran deeper than only de-stressing; it was Hijikata's way of grounding himself, to feel the burn of the nicotine was equivalent to feeling alive.
Similarly to how Gintoki found solace in the sweetness of sugar, Hijikata had chosen, deliberately, for something that didn't just assuage his heart's ache, but slowly chipped away at his lungs. Like woodpeckers pecking away at the tree they pick. A relief as much as a punishment.
Nothing Hijikata did was ever pure for himself. Regarding everything as a necessary penance for, frankly speaking, being alive.
Proved by words he had once spoken aloud, at one of their countless not-arranged drinking sessions. When the lines between the demon vice-commander and the human underneath blurred by a cup too many. Words clear instead of slurred, seemingly practiced in the solitude of his room, cut sharper than the sword he maintained. ‘If it wasn't for these cigarettes, I'm not sure what I would've done to myself.’ It didn't hit Gintoki until his mind sobered up the next day. Hijikata's mind, for all his bravado and pride, had bigger cracks than he had acknowledged.
No, he hadn't wanted to pay heed to the gnawing feeling.
Didn't want to admit to what that meant. Reluctant to break the fragile bond they had crafted over the years of barking insults, shared sake cups, and having each other's back on more battlefields than both needed.
And yet, when he held on to Hijikata's hand, the gnawing started to settle into a slow simmer. A low flame warmed the place where fingers intertwined, longing for more, to grow into an uncontrollable fire that roared away the darkness. Uncaring about the ashes it would leave in its wake, not stopping till all lay barren, like a wound fresh from the blade, seared to the bones.
It scared him, though, just how much he wanted to let it rage.
Not for himself, no, he hardly ever cared about his own pain. However, he wouldn't allow his burdens to seep through to those he held close. Rather face an ugly death alone in a desolate ditch of his past, than let others be dragged through the mud in the slide of his choices.
Never.
So he didn't look back, though, he couldn't.
Just tightened his grip, the gentle warmth soothing his wavering heart, wrapping it in a blanket of unspoken promises. An anchor, a reminder that he wasn't alone. That there was someone out there who touched in on his darkness, as it was a mirror to his own. One who's already tainted by the blood that couldn't be cleansed, as it clung to the hollow of his broken self.
People would call them two sides of the same coin, opposites in beliefs and ways of life, but truth be told, they were just fighting over the same dark side. If humanity lived on the bright side of the moon, they would clash swords in the middle of the dark side. Not a battle to decide who was allowed to warm their weary bones, but a bet between them.
The winner, probably whoever was able to leave their sins to rest in the soil.
Survival for them wasn't about staying alive; it was about protecting that small light that lay untouched, clean. A pure light that was all they had to latch onto to stay adrift, praying the dirt would not taint it.
The streets of Kabukicho were vacant, deserted. Traded for the warm comfort of a home, where happiness wasn't endured, but enjoyed. Sickeningly sweet laughter coming from nearby brothels grated his ears, pushing his legs to move faster, hurrying them away from the hollow tenderness those places lured you with.
Hijikata barely needed a second to adjust his rhythm, following Gintoki mindlessly. No protest, no question, just blank obedience. Gintoki didn't know how to interpret.
Spurring things on, he didn't know Hijikata could handle. Not because he was weak or anything, but because even Gintoki himself didn't know if he could. He'd seen so much, caused immense torment, his own agony only being a fraction compared to that of the victims piled behind his back. So who was he to take even more, to even dare desire something? Wanting anything only aided the accretion of his sins.
But this was different.
For it didn't just include himself.
If he dared to act, it wouldn't be just him who would fall. An invisible rope looped around Hijikata's ankle with a delicate knot. One that would unravel with the smallest of tugs, setting them on different sides of a ravine, but it wasn't Gintoki's choice alone to make. Hijikata had taken hold of that rope when he didn't protest; if Gintoki chose to fall, Hijikata would tumble down with him.
That alone made Gintoki's strides a little longer; his heart beat just a tick faster. Something dark swirled in the depths of his mind, a foreign urge, one unlike anything he had felt before.
His head had begged for battles, ones so brutal they burned him to his core. Ones that numbed his mind till all that was left was just a stringed puppet, directed by nothing but the reason why it all started. Even after the meaning of the words that rallied them was long lost to him. He kept fighting.
When they arrived at his place, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the home he had so desperately tried to leave behind, Gintoki slowed. Every step was dragged down by the reality that crashed over them. The ascent to his apartment felt painfully slow, prolonged by the careful need not to trip and break the thin ice they had ventured on.
The last flight of stairs felt like a hazy memory when he traversed the landing to his front door. Hijikata's palm was still warm in his as he fumbled with his keys, taking longer than he had the patience for to unlock the goddamn door.
As the satisfying click of the lock resounded in the silence, Gintoki swiftly slid open the door. It only took one step over the threshold of his home for his restraints to snap. He tugged Hijikata inside, yanked his door shut, and locked it with a flick of his wrist. The silence of his empty home was a harsh reminder of why he had run. Desperate to fill the void with whatever, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way he ended up back where he started.
However, it was different, as he wasn't alone like he was when he left. The silence was just as suffocating as before; just the act of staying upright was arduous enough to make him want to cave. Dread and emptiness overwhelmed him in a matter of seconds. Quick, shallow breaths were all he could manage. The urge to breathe drove him forward, and before he knew what he was doing, he pushed Hijikata up against the door, capturing his lips in a desperate attempt to drown out the silence.
One hand ran over Hijikata's neck to nestle itself in his navy hair, the other cupped around a flushed cheek, smearing the dried blood with his fingers. The base of his palm kept Hijikata's face at the right angle to deepen the kiss. His heart beat rang deep in his ears, as he felt Hijikata's heart thrum against his chest as he reciprocated the incentive.
It wasn't gentle or sweet. It was desperate, needy. Rushed. Something both needed to feel tethered to the world they roamed, a connection that ran deeper than words could describe. The taste of tobacco, bitter on his tongue, mixed with the red-bean sweets he had before he had left, would be nauseating any other time. Instead, it installed an awful craving within, and he couldn't get enough.
Gintoki wanted to lose himself in the sensation; the scorching heat tickled his palm as skin met skin.
He wanted.
No. He needed more.
Needed to let that tiny flame find its kindling to develop into the all-encompassing beast and let it roar. Hijikata seemed to be of a similar mind as he didn't fight Gintoki's hands, removing his blood-stained jacket and unbuttoning his pure white dress-shirt with great dexterity, slipping it off his shoulders. Lips never left Hijikata's, drinking in the gasps and soft sounds as if it were the oxygen he was dangerously low on.
The heat from Hijikata's bare chest was heaven against his stained hands, pure delight shot through his body at the trembling exhale when his finger brushed over a perked nipple. Muscles strained and relaxed at rapid intervals under his touch as his hands roamed freely.
Welcoming Hijikata's hands fumbling their way through undressing him, helping by removing his arm from his yukata, giving Hijikata full access to his shirt. Despite how endearing his clumsiness was, the occasional brush of cool hands against his chest was maddening. He pressed in, wanting to be closer, even if it hindered Hijikata.
Feeling trembling hands move around between their abdomens made him roll into the sensation, replacing Hijikata's bitten, bruised lips with his warm neck, kissing his way over every rough scar. Some familiar others from fights he didn't witness, pieces of the other's life he just wasn't a part of. Always on the sidelines, grappling with an unfinished puzzle, and yet wasn't he the same for Hijikata?
More mystery than known.
There was no reminiscing between them, no shared stories from before they met that fateful day. There was no time they looked at the other through clear windows; they had long since been tainted by phantoms wailing in tormented staccato. Which in turn may be the reason why he felt so at ease with Hijikata.
Same self-sacrificial tendencies for those they cared about, similar fears, and a stubbornness to not let the world see just how deep into the ground they had been pushed.
Gintoki attentively saved every sound that escaped Hijikata with every kiss. Deep voice rumbled through them, his own heavy breaths joining in, creating a melody that was theirs.
As the last button of his shirt came undone, he let go of the skin he had made bloom to shrug off his shirt, before pulling Hijikata back on him. Catching the content sigh of Hijikata between their lips.
The more Hijikata gave him, the more he craved. He was drowning when he met the other man, life muffled by the water's surface. Kissing, touching, and hearing Hijikata felt like coming up for air. His every sense was heightened with the man's presence. Nothing could ever compare to the yearning his nerves experienced whenever thoughts of the vice-commander filled his mind. To be this close to him, it was a thrill.
Not one marked by bloodshed or a sugar high that led into a crash, but by a tantalizing promise of connecting.
Without losing the connection, they stumbled their way through the entryway into the living room. Their shoes strewed over the floor behind them, their swords joining them with heavy thuds. Somewhere along the way, Hijikata had managed to untie his obi, almost making them trip over the white fabric pooling under them.
The sting of the things they had run into dulled in the face of their heavy hearts, now ablaze with sinful pleasure. Every surface they could press each other against was used to grind into the other, hips rolling, moans caught in between hungry kisses. Both were rendered breathless before repeating it all over again at the next spot.
At last, his room was in reach, his arm stretched out next to him to reach for the handle, as Hijikata rutted against his thigh. His hand faltered momentarily, head fell back with a deep groan. The arm that wasn't fumbling with the door came to rest on Hijikata's lower back, urging him to do that again, to which the other obliged wordlessly. His eyes closed on instinct when Hijikata sucked on the skin under his ear, hips not slowing down their rhythm.
The intensity was almost enough to silence his mind; just a little bit more, and those voices would dissipate. Would stop their incessant rebukes on how he shouldn't allow this to continue. Scold him for thinking he deserved this, that he had a right to enjoy the comforting touch of another's warm body. A man with his past should be condemned to a life of solitude, not to be surrounded by people, meaning the world to him. Let alone indulge in carnal pleasure.
Just a little bit longer, and those voices that sounded too much like his past would shut up. One more push, and he'd melt into his desire.
Hands eventually grasped the ledge of the recessed handle that would lead them to his fluffy futon. Wrenching it open, he used the hand on Hijikata's back to switch their positions, pushing him inside, half a mind to close the door behind them. Leaving it ajar, unbothered to go back and fix it.
He was in way too deep for that to matter; no one would disturb them. A flicker of sadness at the empty house broke through, but one look at Hijikata's flustered bedroom eyes and his head shut off. All things besides Hijikata became irrelevant, tossed away to make way for the camera, ready to commit this moment to memory.
The world around him faded, mind zoning into Hijikata, all dark hair and gun-metal blue, as he looked like forbidden fruit atop his white futon. Short hair spiking around, appearing as a crown of thorns. Smudges of dark red highlighted the dangerous edge of his life's story.
If sin were a picture, it would be this. Hijikata spread over a white cloud, with lightly tanned skin, ran over by scars, reminders of all the lives he took, and protected. Looking up at him through his lashes, hands down his own chest in a shameless display that had Gintoki's breath stutter. He observed, awaiting the delicacies he'll serve next, the loss of heat Hijikata's naked skin provided him with. His patience is rewarded in the form of rough hands slowly easing dark slacks down. It revealed a very obvious bulge, where Hijikata's erection strained against his boxers, precum staining it a hue darker.
Gintoki couldn't resist palming himself through his pants at the sight of the languid strokes Hijikata's finger drew over the fabric, mesmerized by the soft, pleading sighs that accompanied it.
His own arousal jerked with interest, questioning why Gintoki was still just standing there, why he hadn't joined the others on the futon. Why was his hand touching himself when Hijikata's body was beckoning him closer?
And truly, why was he?
Regret and shame be damned, there was no turning back. Hadn't been from the moment Hijikata had been in his vision.
He unbuttoned his pants with hurried motions, pulling them down along with his underwear. They've come this far already; there was no reason to withhold laying himself completely bare. There wasn't a single scar on his body that the other hadn't seen, never questioned them, only a silent acknowledgement of their mutual sacrifices.
His cock jutted out, curving up to his stomach, not missing Hijikata's gaze, flickering to it before locking back on his eyes. Moves void of hesitation when he lowered himself over Hijikata, grinding his erection against Hijikata's, the wet patch making it easier to rock them back and forth. Drinking the groans from wet lips, sighs slipping past his own lips when Hijikata arched his back. Connecting their bodies once again, hotter than it was mere seconds ago.
It scalded his skin in the best way, as if he submerged himself in a hot spring, a temperature so hot it was said to cleanse the soul. Doubt crept through, unrelenting. An annoying zoom in his ear, persistent, but ignored. Gintoki wasn't indulging to cleans the past he had no way of escaping, he wasn't delusional enough to think that way. He knew better than anyone that the debauchery he was partaking in would only bring momentary relief.
Relief that he'd embrace with everything he had, would cling to it for however long he was allowed to by the sin beneath his weight. He'd surrender himself to this desire consistently if the other let him. Even if the events would result in an ever deeper hole gaping through broken remnants of who he once was.
Chasing after the pleasure, the release as if he was starved, gladly submitting his body to the addiction this would undoubtedly lead to. They were crossing a line, cutting the rope tying them together, only to retie it, shorter, closer to the other. A gentle tug and they would, along with shadows lurking for revenge, collide in a disaster of their own making.
Gintoki all but ripped off the last remaining layer that stood between him and being completely submerged in the sweltering radiance that was Hijikata Toushirou. A jewel within the Shinsengumi, the brains behind their plans, a rock next to its leader for support. A vice-commander built from broken pieces and a strong resilience to stay together for his people.
Slim wrists fitted perfectly under the grip of his hand, keeping them above the crown of thorns, not allowing the other to tease him further. He had long since reached his limits, dragging kiss swollen lips in another dance, rolling the marked tissue between his lips and teeth.
Hijikata's body moved in perfect sync with his, and he wanted it all. Greed surged through him, ugly and raw. He was a greedy man after all, not keen on sharing what he claimed as his, yet would sacrifice it all for the mere chance of a smile on the faces of his loved ones.
And yet, once more, Hijikata was the exception. He did not want to share him; the thought of anyone else having laid their dirty hands on the warmth soothing his fears had him see red.
He would sacrifice himself in a second for those he held dear, but for Hijikata, he would burn it all down.
It wasn't pretty, but the truth seldom was.
The hand not holding onto Hijikata's wrist stretched out to pull out a small bottle of lube from under his pillow. Thumb pushing it open, a resounding pop echoed through the small space. Without much thought, he handled the bottle so a good amount was squeezed onto his hand, and tossed the bottle. The cool liquid was a stark contrast to the warmth enveloping the rest of his body. Reluctantly, with a pull from his teeth, he let Hijikata's lips go.
While fingers warmed up the substance, his lips traversed over Hijikata's body, from his neck, licking and biting into a soft lobe, across his sternum to end up at a perky nipple. Teeth grazed over the pebbled surface, encouraged by the sounds above him. Hijikata didn't resist, relinquishing the control he leaned on for support. The submission from the pliant body under his lips was a trip far exceeding that of the most expensive bottles of bitter nectar straight from the top shelf.
Gintoki released the delicate, yet strong wrists, knowing with a twisted certainty that they wouldn't move. Job of caging in the prey done, the hand quickly moved to its next source of heat. A rosy peak was rolled between his thumb and index finger, while his tongue lapped at the other. Feeling every shiver under his touch, muscles tense as they involuntarily tried to get closer.
The scent of tobacco and sweat a thin veil that shrouded their presence like a bubble. Warm, secure, away from the prying eyes of their own masks.
His lips kept exploring all that they could reach, sucking the proof of what they were doing directly into scarred skin. Praying to something he did not believe in, that, even when the flowers he made bloom disappeared, they would have long since sunken right into Hijikata's soul. For that was where he longed to be, to be coddled in the blue distorted flames he could so clearly see flickering behind gun-metal eyes.
Hands kneaded the precious, unblemished skin of Hijikata's inner thighs, spreading them apart, easing himself closer in a way Hijikata couldn't do anything but curl his long legs around Gintoki's waist.
He watched him, hungry eyes peeking from under dark lashes. The expression was as foreign as the feelings it stirred deep in his stomach.
Those eyes spoke of unfiltered desire. A desire to forget every sin that turned even the simplest of dreams into gut-wrenching nightmares, to be consumed by something other than the cold claws of his own conscience.
And deeply hidden behind all that, there was a tiny light. A sweet thing, innocent even, if only it didn't sit amidst the field of glowing spider lilies. Blue eyes, illuminated by a red hue, didn't look at Gintoki, but through him.
He saw him.
Not the mask he wore, or the persona he carried out, but him.
The realization hit him hard, fingers jerked to a halt against the rippled skin of Hijikata's entrance.
More than wanting to forget, Hijikata had wanted Gintoki, plain and simple.
However, it felt anything but simple to him.
As Gintoki had learned early on that he wasn't allowed to have anything to his name. It became easier to stop caring than to wash his hands clean of the ashes after he burned them all. Forsaking the warmth was a cruel penance, but a willing one.
He was already risking more lives than he could handle, with death lurking in his every touch.
But here Hijikata was, bare and vulnerable underneath him, relishing in every touch he was willing to bestow upon him. Granting him permission to evade the innermost parts of him, pulling him in with his eyes, head lulled to the side, the ghost of a smile played on the sweet exhales.
Hijikata wanted him, and god did he want him just as bad. Wanted to sink into the other, pushing in so deep they would become one, and maybe then, when they shouldered their sins together, it won't feel so heavy.
Heels digging in his back startled him out of his stupor, and he shot forward. One hand pulled Hijikata into another bruising kiss, tongue pushed inside, licking the roof and the backside of his teeth. Hijikata returned it all in spades, as he sucked in Gintoki's. Sharp teeth brought pain where they grazed, and it was all Gintoki had wanted.
To lose himself.
And for once, he allowed himself something.
Without warning, he pushed one of his fingers inside. The tight heat was overwhelming, as it seemed to pull him in deeper. He couldn't wait to feel it around him, for their bodies to connect by more than a rope and the shadows clawing at their peaceful bubble. For it to be physical, to lose the sense of where they started and ended.
Soft whimpers vibrated in his throat as he slid his finger in and out purposefully. In a small attempt to ease the discomfort, Gintoki leaned away, granting Hijikata the chance to breathe through it. Hand no longer entangled in messy black hair, started to stroke Hijikata, thumb pressing over the slit, coating Hijikata's cock. He moved his hand in languid motions, edging close to the surface before pulling the rug.
Hickey's soon covered the scars in a multitude of colors, a sea of flowers of Gintoki's creation. An artwork for his eyes alone to admire.
After a while, he managed to push in a second finger, moving them in sync with his other hand. Carefully opening him up, stretching the muscle so it could take his shape.
He let go of Hijikata's cock when he noticed how the sounds of discomfort had turned into sighs of compliance, pulling Gintoki in, willing him to reach even deeper. Colored chest rose with deep breaths, arms still obediently lying above his head. A smile tugged at Gintoki's lips at the swallowed whine he caught when he took out his fingers to seek out the lube he tossed earlier.
It didn't take long for Gintoki to push back in. The ease with which he moved made him add a third finger, which got sucked in immediately. The heat was numbing, Hijikata's voice chipping away at his restraints. It took everything he had to keep his steady pace, trying not to lose his composure and to just trust in.
Hadn't both been hurt enough?
There was no reason to coat this memory with a layer of pain that neither needed, no matter how much Hijikata's eyes seemed to beg for it. For all the faults to his name, he surely didn't get a kick out of hurting those undeserving. If their sins could never be set right, why try to atone for them at every twist and turn? When they can burn through the pain at the roots, in a blissful illusion.
Massaging gentle circles into his inner thigh, pressing soft nothings into the flesh while his fingers picked up the pace. Only stopping to add more lube. It felt like an eternity, waiting patiently to ensure it would be pleasurable to both, and then he sensed it. The tight ring of muscle contracting painfully around his fingers, a short, high-pitched gasp escaped Hijikata's throat, and his heels dug even deeper into Gintoki's back, urging him closer.
Knowing the cause, he experimentally moved his finger against the bundle of nerves, sending Hijikata into a spiraling loop of deep groans and sharp gasps. From under his lashes, he could see Hijikata's hands had balled into fists, short nails digging crescents into the coarse skin of his palm. Not enough to draw blood, but close enough that Gintoki wanted to grab them. To lace their fingers, have those nails cut through his skin instead of them damaging the others.
After he had stimulated the nerves enough, Gintoki deemed Hijikata ready, based on how he relaxed around him. He took out his fingers after curling them one final time against the prostate, fighting against the alluring pull.
He took hold of the bottle of lube and pulled his pillow along with it. In a quick showcase of his strength, he hauled Hijikata closer, lifted his hips, and shoved the pillow under his lower back. He ignored the confusion fluttering through Hijikata's gaze, adjusting the position of their bodies so they aligned at the perfect angle.
Left hand moved up Hijikata's thigh, following along the pattern of a brutal scar to curl around his small waist. Squeezing a generous amount of lube on his cock, wiping off the residue on the sheets pooled under them. He lined up the tip against Hijikata's entrance, receiving consent in the form of a small nod.
Steadily, he pushed in. The tight heat around his cock pulled him in, burning him all around, and it was mesmerizing. To see himself get closer and closer to becoming one with Hijikata. To melt into him. Halting his movements was as much for Hijikata's sake to adjust as it was for him to regain his composure. The thought that he was allowed to indulge in this, that Hijikata trusted him with his soul bare. That alone was enough for him to fall.
Overwhelmed by the sensation when he was fully sheathed inside, hands held Hijikata close, as he let his head fall onto Hijikata's chest. Two hearts beat as one in his ear, proof they were both alive, that they existed on this tiny plane together.
They stayed unmoving for a good minute, calming down their breathing. Committing the feel of the other to memory, so that even when they weren't together, they could feel just how deeply their lives had intertwined. That even if their path would never cross again, it was impossible to forget the kindling that was exchanged to feed their flames.
Tranquility broke when Hijikata lowered one of his arms to curl a hand into Gintoki's soft silver hair, coaxing him to lift his head. As their eyes locked, so did their lips.
Hijikata rolled his hips, and both broke away with a groan at the promised pleasure. He took this as a sign and started to move. Gintoki pulled out slowly before pushing back in. Gently rocking their hips together. Pressing his face into Hijikata's neck, he contentedly listened to every sound Hijikata let out.
He set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips into Hijikata. The push and pull of their bodies is like the tide of the ocean. Every time Gintoki pulled back, Hijikata chased after him, constantly meeting somewhere in the middle.
The room steadily filled with the echoes of their gratification, which only increased in volume the faster they moved.
Gintoki's skin buzzed everywhere where Hijikata touched. Head tingled as short nails scraped over the sensitive skin; they slid down until they dug into his shoulder. The slight sting only had him craving more, and that's exactly what he wanted. To drown out his very existence for the sake of someone else. Deep down, an insistent voice repeated futilely, how he didn't deserve this.
However, for once, he didn't listen, as only the tones on which Hijikata's voice drifted were worth his attention.
He tightened his grip on Hijikata's waist and pulled out almost completely. Taking hold of the hands still above Hijikata's head, lacing their fingers together as he had wanted. Welcoming the nails piercing the skin of his hand as he thrust back in, this time much harder. His cock reached much deeper inside. Hijikata let out a gasp with every thrust, holding on to Gintoki with all the strength he had.
The titillating image that was Hijikata spurred him on to no end; his hips bucked with abandon. And Gintoki was desperate to ensure Hijikata was feeling good; he got drunk on his voice, addicted to the sultry way in which Hijikata's body responded to him. The way he clenched around his cock when he had finally struck his prostate was stifling, and he pressed in closer. The friction of their sweat-covered skin had his head spinning.
Hijikata's dick throbbed against his abdomen, leaking precum all over their lower bodies. His back arched into Gintoki's touch, not allowing for any space to get between them.
Both were close. Gintoki could feel Hijikata clench around him more, pulling him deeper as his muscles tensed from exertion.
Lust-driven eyes held him hostage, thrusts became erratic as his release drew near. He let go of Hijikata's waist so he could take hold of his dick, sweltering as it lay heavy in his grip. He started to stroke it in time with the brutal pace of his hips, driving them both closer to the edge. Thumb swept over the slit, catching the erotic moans in an open-mouthed kiss. It was messy, desperate, and all-consuming.
Gintoki reached a point where he just didn't want to think about not kissing Hijikata like this. He had thought having this moment alone was enough, but how could it be? There was no way that he would ever be satisfied, not when he now knew how perfectly they fitted together. An insatiable hunger pumped through his veins.
Unadulterated pride surged through him as Hijikata's body shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm. Gintoki rocked him into overstimulation, trying to find his own release. Hijikata's whimpers were muffled, his arms pulling Gintoki flush against him by his neck. Muscular legs pressing in, permitting Gintoki to let go inside. To leave his mark, there where no one else would see.
What had started as a desperate attempt to drown out the darkness in his head had quickly turned into a distorted yearning to keep Hijikata to himself.
He came inside Hijikata with a long groan, releasing everything that had pent up over his lifetime. Years of loneliness, of forbidden longing for something, someone he could touch.
As he tried to catch his breath, the crushing realization of what he had just done started to paralyze him. His inner demons rushed back in all at once, their horrid screeches tearing through the warm haze that had blanketed them.
Ugly thoughts of locking Hijikata up, so no one could touch him, taint him, crossed his mind.
And it scared him.
Anxious desperation surged through; his body started to tremble at the notion of having ruined it all. The delicate balance he had built up lay shattered upon the remains of what he hadn't dared call friendship.
Gentle warmth once comforting now chilled him to the bone. He didn't want to lose what they had, not their shared moments of quietude over cheap sake or the hidden looks of something deeper. Going back to that lonely void, where nothing mattered, the same one he believed would eat him alive into nothingness, would be unbearable.
He couldn't lose this.
Then make sure that you don't.
He wants to stay close.
Don't let him get away.
I don't care what happens to me, please just let me stay by his side.
Then make him unable to leave you.
I can't.
Break him. He'll only hate you.
No!
Gintoki broke free from Hijikata's arms. The confused, dazed expression that met his was too much. His vision blurred by unshed tears full of sorrow, his sight burned as the image of Hijikata was engulfed in the flames of his disgrace. The more he looked, the more reality morphed into nightmare, where blue did not greet him with silent compassion, but with hollow contempt.
He couldn't handle the concerned eyes directed at him. Hijikata shouldn't be looking at him like he was worth more than the dirt under his shoes, like he, Gintoki, just hadn't defiled everything they were. He should be pushing him away, yelling at him, anything but meet his misery with tenderness.
His head fell, dragged down to the side by the weight of his deeds. Eyes narrowed to escape the pressure, focused on the lines of his tatami. His body shook with the exertion of stifling his tears. It was pathetic, truly. Years he had lived among corpses, emptied his salt into the blood-soaked soil, gotten used to pain and anguish. He had Long since forgotten what crying felt like, and yet one look at Hijikata shocked his body into remembering.
Aware of his position with every shake, the euphoria of their connection was overwritten by the shame swirling nauseatingly in his stomach.
Startled by Hijikata's touch against his flushed skin. He futilely resists the gentle pull, letting warm fingers guide him back to look into blue eyes.
And he just broke at the soft gaze from a soul just as broken as his. Tears cascaded down his face in silence, falling onto Hijikata's chest only to flow away into the plush white of his bedding. He tries to turn away, to hide his unsightly face from the others.
Yet Hijikata didn't let him, his hold gentle but firm.
"It's okay to cry," Hijikata said, the first spoken words since they had run into each other. "It's only me." His voice was hoarse and unbelievably warm. They compelled him to give in, to let go of all his restraints.
Here, in this moment, it was just them. Two broken people who shouldered the heavy burden of other people's hopes and dreams, forsaking their own ambitions in favor of aiding those they were willing to help. Their selfish acts were just a guise to fit in with society, to hide the blood clinging to their swords, a way to guard the little humanity they had left.
There was no reason to hold back, to pretend he was okay. Hijikata had known since the start that the scars on his body didn't compare to the deep wounds on his heart and soul. Their banter harsh to the outside but comforting and childlike beneath the surface, an act that gave both some respite from the building pressure.
"I'm sorry," Gintoki responded, voice broken and brittle. Eyes blurry with tears that now streamed down uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry." He repeated like a broken record. Words slurring with every repetition, until only mumbled sounds remained.
Hijikata didn't do anything to refute his apology, nor did he seem to acknowledge it. All he did was card his fingers through silver hair, pulling him down into an embrace, just letting him cry into his shoulder.
And if Gintoki felt something drip down his neck, he didn't comment on it, as that was a secret between him and the four walls of his bedroom.
When Gintoki woke up, the sun had just barely started to rise, and soft light filtered through his window. It was way too early for him to be awake, yet the sound of Kabukicho coming to life barely registered, as he felt something move under him. First, he took note of slightly tanned skin, eyes roaming over its expanse as memories of last night slowly seeped in. Varying tones of reds and purples could be seen all over. Marks that he groggily remembered being responsible for.
And as he lifted his eyes, tracing the path of hickey's, he found himself gazing up at a face so familiar, yet the sight was as foreign as could be. Hijikata's features were soft in sleep, eyes fluttering softly, brows relaxed instead of drawn down in his customary frown. Breathing soft and slow, Gintoki could feel his steady heartbeat thrum under his fingers as they lay on his chest.
The warmth of his skin enticed Gintoki to just curl up around him and continue sleeping, but his mind refused to oblige. Because instead of closing his eyes and tuning in to the dreamland channel, he couldn't take his eyes off Hijikata. The shock of what had transpired mere hours ago kept replaying.
How he had found Hijikata when both seemed to be at their lowest, taken hold of his hand as he let himself listen to his heart after he shut it down, only to drag him home. He could still feel the ghost of Hijikata's lips on his, the titillating gaze observing from under dark lashes, a pliant body beckoning him to fall over the edge together. Could still hear the soft gasps when he closed his eyes, how they vibrated through his entire body, begging for more without a word.
But more than that, he remembered being connected, the throes of passion they danced through, and the ultimate low of his humiliation. The shame and guilt still burned dimly in the stomach, waiting on the perfect moment to resurface with more vigor than before. Strangely, it didn't scare him all that much anymore, not when Hijikata was there, embracing him through his pain, confronting their demons together. This time, they didn't battle with their backs turned, but with their chests aligned, letting the combined beat of their hearts drown out the darkness. Keeping the shadows of their past at a distance they could handle, giving their minds and bodies the time to recuperate, so they may face their sins with their heads held high.
Gintoki found himself not just wanting, but willing to rely on someone else.
With Hijikata, he didn't need to hide the cruelty that dragged him through the mud, nor was there a need to cover up the blood that ingrained itself in his very pores. There was no force pushing him for answers to unspoken questions. Both lay barren in the desolate ramen stalls over cups of sake. Sharing smiles when the masks fell off, purposefully ordering more drinks than they could handle as an excuse to prolong their meeting.
And within the safety of his own home, he finally allowed himself to admit to the feelings he had buried over and over again. Only to flare up brighter and stronger than before. It really didn't come as a surprise that he desired Hijikata; there had been this magnetic pull, one that always ended up tugging him into the other's proximity.
Locked into a dangerous dance of hidden meanings and mutual respect. Finding strength in the bindings that held together the broken pieces, a brilliant resilience to survive for the sake of others shone on them like a spotlight.
Having people he cared for terrified him; keeping Hijikata close terrified him even more.
For he was now in possession of the battered remains of his heart. Whether it crashed and burned till nothing was left, or slowly recovered to regain its shape rested solely in the palms of Hijikata's warm, blood-soaked hands.
Gintoki mused on just how much his life had shifted long enough, as by clockwork, Hijikata started to stir. His nose scrunched as a deep yawn took over his face, and his eyes slowly blinked out the sleep-induced haze.
"Morning." He greeted. Amused to see the frown reappear as Hijikata regarded him with confusion before gradually relaxing in recognition.
"Hm…Morning."
"Do you need to go back?" He asked, but dreaded the answer. He would reluctantly let him go if he was expected back at the Shinsengumi, as Hijikata wouldn't be Hijikata without his devotion to Kondo.
It was a quality he admired as much as he despised it, having created a true workaholic all at the expense of his own health.
"It's my day off." Hijikata slurred, already losing the battle against sleep.
"So you're staying then?"
"Go to sleep, you idiotic perm," Gintoki's heart swelled at the familiar insult. Restoring them to their usual routine proves that they would be just fine. Even with the added layer of lasts nights events, and what that meant for their relationship, they were good. "We'll talk later," Hijikata mumbled in his silver hair.
"You can't back out, you mayonnaise addict." He retorted, pulling Hijikata close to him. Clinging to the warmth of his body.
He didn't know what the future may hold, but for now, he was comfortable in his and Hijikata's little bubble. Safe from their pasts, as long as they held on tightly, no harm would come to them.
Neither would allow that to happen.