jigokulogs | semi-closed 🔪 the extent of my affections are destroying me

[ Nishitani flexes under her trailing fingers, watching as she moves from flower to flower, the curves of waves, the feathers of roosters from his back. ] Started getting them when I first got involved with the Omi Alliance. [ When he first got involved with the life, in other words. He knew the second he agreed to become a yakuza, he didn't want to be anywhere else in the world-- and that meant ink, and a lot of it. ] So 30 years, on and off. You get used to it after that long. Still, having that old man hand tattoo near my dick trumped being shot to death for "most painful thing to happen to me".

Edited 2022-05-18 07:47 (UTC)

[ Thirty years is a long time in a mortal life. She knows that, even if her own sense of time is blurred. It's not a small thing, giving decades of your life to something. To a cause, or a person. There's something to admire in that. Something almost poetic. Maybe even romantic.

There's no bite to her wryness, even though her words are a little mocking when she responds: ]

You must have loved that.

[ Absently, her finger trails lower, winding down over ribs, along one hip, wandering in to find those scattered scars. Here, she lingers, even if she doesn't ask anything out loud just yet. ]

If I got hard in front of Horitomo he would've cut my dick off. [ Nishitani laughs at that, the thought of that old man and his demands for perfect stillness while he worked. The man was a cunt, but his artwork speaks for itself. ]

[ Andy trails her fingers down, to under his ribs and the soft of his belly. The wounds there are small, but puckered and fresh. They interrupt the seamless flow of ink and Nishitani is endlessly angry for that. Scars are a pain to tattoo over, and he's had a couple patches done-- but here in hell, his artist isn't here, so the tattoo will remain unfinished and blemished. ]

Getting shot though-- there was a lot going on. Bastards who bring guns to a fight are fucking dogs. There's no fun in gun fights.

Edited 2022-05-18 08:20 (UTC)

[ He's probably right. She remembers vaguely the feeling of both awe and revulsion the first time she saw a gun. For centuries, she'd been fighting wars with something sharp in her hands, close enough to her enemy to smell their breath — the way the gods intended it. Personal. And it was brutal. There were battles where she would be covered in so much gore than it was impossible to tell her apart from the rotting, split open corpses.

But she'd learned to use guns. And she doesn't feel much now, pulling the trigger. She doesn't feel much getting shot either. Gods, she must have been shot thousands of times by now. Even blown her own brains out a few times. It all blurs together. ]

You'd be a lot less use to me with your dick cut off. [ Wryly: ] So, I guess I've got Horitomo's mercy to thank. [ A pause, as she withdraws her hand to take another drag off her cigarette, her tone shifting subtly when she finally goes on: ] Hope whatever happened was worth getting shot over. Those scars will be as permanent as the ink.

[ Nishitani brushes his hand across her shoulders, Andy's head on his bicep as she leans in, pressing against skin, ink, and knotted scar tissue. Nishitani doesn't seem phased, but smirks at the dryness in her tone, part of him wanting to roll her over and show her that even without his dick, he could bring her off as many times as she could handle-- ]

[ But their bastard cat is sleeping still, and the rain is calming, and he's not done his cigarette yet. ]

[ He hums instead, pulling back on his cigarette as well, ashing it carefully so he doesn't burn the futon or himself. ] You know Majima-kun? Or-- Goromi, you know her.

It was for them.

Edited 2022-05-18 08:49 (UTC)

[ Recognition flickers in her expression. She does know Majima. And Goromi. Both under somewhat different circumstances. "Friendship" probably isn't the word for any of it, but she's never been particularly good at labeling things right anyway. She had noticed that there was some kind of history there. It hadn't felt like her business though, and she'd never asked.

Now, some of what she's seen makes a little more sense. ]

Mm. So that's why... [ She gestures vaguely with her cigarette, as if to indicate "the whole damn thing." Whatever they want to call what she's witnessed. With a twinge of wryness: ] Suppose between the two of you, it's a miracle neither one has been shot up worse.

[ The why is easy, for Nishitani. He has a brutal heart for those who find their way into it, and Majima is one of the few who managed it. ] I love him. Don't think there's much else to it.

[ He considers what she says before shrugging. ] Cops in Japan carry pea-shooters with only a couple rounds. But get an officer with a decent aim or nothing to lose, and well... you get this. [ He gestures to his abdomen and chest with the four bullet wounds standing out bright. Only one had made it all the way through, scarring his back, and for that he's thankful. ]

[ She's a little surprised he'd admit that so readily. That word — it's one that makes her guts twist, as if just the act of her saying it out loud to someone would somehow hurt her. Love. That painful fucking thing. Being a sentimental creature has been more of a curse to her than even the immortality, some days.

And yet, somehow, she finds herself making room for it. Time and time again. Maybe even now, despite her better fucking sense. ]

Didn't take you for a romantic. [ Finally, she turns away to stub her dwindling cigarette out into the ashtray, exhaling one last mouthful of smoke off to the side. ] You're lucky you're still a breathing romantic.

Haven't I been romantic enough to you? [ A joke, almost. Nishitani brushes some Andy's hair away from the side of her face, turning to look at her-- her eyes, her nose, her lips, her cheeks-- looking at her and he feels nothing but contentment. A yawning pit of hunger is sated, quenched, with the promise that tomorrow-- tomorrow she'll try to kill him by sitting on his face for too long, that she'll punch him in the throat and try to collapse his windpipe, that he'll go down on her with with the full intention of making her come until she passes out. The sex and blood he loves come with her, intrinsically as they spark and clash where like meets like too closely. ]

[ But it's moments like these that surprise him, because they come just as naturally as anything else. Damn, a romantic through and through. ] I'll just have to try harder.

[ She almost laughs — almost plays it right the fuck off with some smart-ass shit because she isn't the type of woman that anyone thinks to romance, not with her mean smile and her sharp words and her bad habits. So he's joking. She's sure he is — right until he reaches out to touch her, drawing her attention towards him just in time to meet his eyes. Then there's the tension of uncertainty. A little question she can't bring herself to ask out loud. It makes her stall for a tangible moment.

Fuck.

Fuck her.

Fuck, she is so stupid — ]

...You don't have to try that fucking hard. [ Her mutter is almost a little petulant. Reaching out, she deftly plucks his cigarette away from him, briskly smothering it in the ashtray before pushing him down against the futon and climbing on top. She doesn't want to wake the cat. But she's not sure she wants to keep talking about this either. ]

[ Nishitani lets himself be pushed back, going easily under her fingers and flexing under her body-- pushing up against her so she can feel the muscles of his body where they strain against her. While not preening, exactly, Nishitani knows he cuts a figure, even at 45, and he knows she likes his tattoos. ]

[ Bringing his fingers up her thighs, palming at her hips and the cut of fat and muscle that dip along her belly appreciatively. ] No flowers, then? [ He wants to lean up to kiss her, but also enjoys watching Andy on top. So he runs his mouth instead; ] What else do girls like? Knives? I could get you a knife.

[ There's a certain intensity to her as she stares down at him — something heavy about her attention, a storminess to her expression that's only emphasized by the natural severity of her face. Some part of her wants to just pretend she didn't feel shit all when he looked at her like that and talked about fucking romance. Another part wants to fight it, as if she's ever been anything but helpless against her own sentiments.

It leaves her charged with a confrontational energy, tension coiled in the line of her body. Leaning over him, she presses a hand flat against his chest with fingers splayed over one of the namakubi there. Wild black hair slips over her shoulders as she bows her head to bite at the junction between his shoulder and throat, venting her frustration with her teeth. ]

Do I seem like the kind of girl you buy flowers for?

[ But she could be. Maybe she doesn't want to be. Or doesn't want to want to be. Fuck. She's going to drive herself crazy with this. ]

Why not? [ He picks up the tension in her actions, given how she bites instead of kisses. He hisses, tightening his grip on her hips, thumbs digging into bone before he bucks against her, pushing the blanket further down his thighs so their naked bodies can be flush against each other. ]

[ His cock is hard against her, unsurprising, given where she's sitting, how her teeth dig into muscle and don't relent. ] I'd buy you whatever you want. Flowers? Diamonds? A ring of blood and plenty dead? Ask me and it's yours.

[ Why not. Why fucking not —

Andy bites again, sinking her teeth into an adjacent patch of skin, leaving a second ring of mottled bruises. It annoys some part of her that even now, instead of just walking away or doing any other fucking thing to curb whatever the fuck she's feeling, she's still here, still skin-to-skin with him in the futon she somehow got used to them sharing, already getting wet in anticipation just from feeling his hard cock nudge against the inside of her thigh.

Her keen awareness of her own contradictions makes her frustrated, and her frustration makes her mean, answering generosity with cruelty when she retorts lowly: ]

What am I, your fucking wife? [ Widening the spread of her knees to sit more fully against him, she rocks her hips, grinding down hard into his lap. ] You don't have to buy me flowers to put your dick in me.

[ Nishitani lets out a pleased rumble, dragging one hand away from her hip so he can nudge between her legs and find her clit just waiting for him to bully. His fingers are thick and scarred, and he rubs against her roughly without much warning. ] Nah, we're not the marrying type, you and me. [ Nishitani has never been interested in marriage, not for a single fucking second of his life. Sure, it meant the chairman kept bugging him about an heir, but Nishitani knew himself. ]

[ A wife wasn't in the picture. ]

[ Andy though, she's in the picture now. ] That so? Then why don't you let me fuck your ass tonight?

[ His hand between her legs is a constant fucking distraction. The sudden, rough friction against her clit has her inhaling sharply, heat flushing between her tensed thighs. It makes her rhythm falter ever so slightly, her face obscured for a moment as she presses her forehead to his shoulder. Fuck, but those thick, scarred fingers have always seemed to know exactly how to touch her, sparking the nerves alive without much effort at all. She might have half a mind to be pissed off about it, if it didn't feel so damn good.

Her usual biting wryness comes out a little breathless when she answers him: ]

Yeah, that's real fucking romantic.

[ But, mockery aside, she's already reaching back for the hand still at her hip, urging it over the curve of her ass and further back to feel out that tight ring of muscle. ]

It will be when you get me in the same position later. [ He's never been one to take without giving back in some way. Anal for anal, sounds like a good deal for them both. ]

[ He slows down his fingers at her clit when she pulls his other hand back, smoothing over the furl of muscle once fully introduced and sure of what Andy is allowing. He turns his head to the side where she's pressed against his shoulder, kissing her ear, her jaw, her temple even through the thick curtain of her hair. ]

[ Nishitani uses her own slick to wet the breach of his first finger inside her, thumb resuming a slow pressure on her clit to ease the way. ]

[ He knows how she is with these things, especially when she's feeling mean — double payback, that's how it is with Andy. She always gives as good as she gets, and it's definitely some kind of promise when she answers: ]

The way you've been teasing me, you'll be lucky if I don't split you in fucking half.

[ That slight wetness from between her legs won't be nearly enough to get his dick inside her, but there's time to get to that. She can take a finger or two — and she wants to feel this first, that communion of pain and pleasure, something just rough enough to make dwelling on her own sentimental bullshit harder. It's already an edgy kind of pressure, just the start of that first finger, and she reflexively tightens her grip where her hand lingers on his arm, nails digging into the inked skin. ]

That a promise? [ Nishitani hasn't bottomed for a while, but he does enjoy it, and he does enjoy Andy-- so the two together certainly makes sense to him. ]

[ First knuckle, then second. Nishitani takes his time fingering her, kissing at her where he can once she pulls back enough for him to get at her lips and face again. Her fingers are digging into his skin and he's sure he'll bruise by morning, but he's more than content with that ]

[ A promise and maybe a threat, maybe a challenge - like so many things with her. But as she falls into the familiar rhythm of sex with him, some of that frustrated tension from before seems to gradually ease a little. She starts to relax as he works between her legs, getting that first finger into her tight heat. Her hips start to move again too, rubbing her pussy against him and pushing back against his hand. Biting turns into kissing, all that wild dark hair draping down around them like a curtain. ]

Come on. [ Low and quiet: ] Give me more.

Want two already? Greedy bitch. [ Said with the utmost affection, with his lips breathing against hers. He can feel her relax under his fingers, watches as she does and welcomes her against him as if she'd never left. He kisses her, long, deep, because he fucking loves how she tastes on his tongue. ]

[ A second finger is added, easily, Nishitani grinding his cock up against her cunt as he does, the wetness from her slicking across the underside of him. He pulls back just long enough to ask: ] Where'd you throw the lube?

[ The greedy bitch in question only offers him a wry little look and a brief nod in the direction of the nightstand, wheee the lube lives. Some things about her never change, even when she’s on the edge of an existential crisis with two fingers in her ass. ]

It’s not your fucking fingers I want.

[ As if to make her point, she grinds down against him harder, trapping his cock between hot velvets folds of flesh as they rut. ]

That’s not enough.

[ Nishitani pulls himself away just enough to slap around the nightstand, dragging the lotion onto the futon with them, all while keeping himself knuckle deep inside Andy, pressing his cock against her to make up for his fingers no longer on her clit. ] Damn, so fucking needy. Falling in love with my cock, baby? [ Nishitani pulls his fingers free then, only to lube himself up and yank her hips forward. His prick pushes against her ass, almost as a threat, before slipping between as he ruts forward teasingly. ]

[ He's always got to fucking tease her — always has to get her a little riled — and she probably likes it more than she'd admit out loud. If she didn't, she probably wouldn't be here. Makes her decision making questionable at best, but she's been stupid and reckless for the last seven thousand years. Being made mortal and dumped in literal hell hasn't changed that.

When he yanks her forward, she has to brace herself, planting her hands on the futon at either side of his head to keep her balance. It's equal parts impatience and anticipation that has her fingers tense against the fabric as he rubs his dick against her. Head bowed down, she moves against him to earn some more friction, egging him on with sharp-edged words. That phrasing of his — how it comes too close, even for a joke — probably just makes her meaner. ]

What, are you used to all the boys and girls just sticking their asses in the air and waiting for you to take your sweet fucking time? [ She leans closer still, a scant inch between their mouths when she murmurs, heated: ] Not me, sweetheart. If you're going to fuck me, then fuck me. Otherwise, flip the hell over and I'll take my turn.

[ Nishitani lets the fire between them build, that tension building between the two of them as she leans over him, threatening and beautiful all at once. He leans up just to kiss her, brief, before: ] You're exactly my type, Andy. [ Type of woman, type of person, type of partner-- Nishitani doesn't explain, but they're all true to him. ]

[ Finally, he presses the head of his cock against the tight rim of Andy's ass, the muscle still tight-- but that's the point. He nudges himself forward, and breaches Andy with a groan low in his chest. ]

Edited 2022-05-21 10:27 (UTC)

semi-closed 🔪 the extent of my affections are destroying me

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