Categories > Anime/Manga > Gravitation > All the Kisses
Snap
A collection of 30 shorts featuring Yuki and Shuichi for a challenge community. Each 'chapter' will have its own theme. Rating varies throughout. (manga-centric)
?Blocked
A/N: I don't own Gravitation
#21 violence; pillage/plunder; extortion
Snap
Blood. Blood is flecked across his glasses and smudged across his cheek. He looks at me with wild eyes, piercing and deep, and takes my hand. It scares me to see him like this - it shakes me deeply to see such violence within him. Shakes me, but thrills me too. I glance cautiously over my shoulder at the broken form on the ground surrounded by his friends looking at us in horror.
Yuki propels me towards the car, slamming the door when I'm barely inside and by the time I'm seated properly we're speeding off into the night. He's completely silent, staring at the road, his hands clenched on the wheel. I can see blood drying in the creases of his knuckles - the blood of someone stupid enough to cross him.
We were only in the bar for fifteen minutes tops, when this drunken guy tried to get me to play pool. He draped himself over my shoulder and slurred into my ear, completely unaware of the guy I was with. I declined politely, but Yuki didn't take kindly to his persistence - his persistence or his touching me. His tone was like ice when he told the guy to /fuck off/. I would think the glare Yuki shot him would be enough to get rid of him, but the guy was too drunk or too stupid to realize the danger. The guy smirked to his friends and asked Yuki to step outside. He called Yuki a faggot and I found myself holding my breath, wondering if Yuki would lose it right there. But he surprised me, he was perfectly calm as he rose to his feet and headed outside. The guy was shocked I think, used to intimidating people, but not expecting that anyone would call him on it.
The tension was palpable as we stood outside. Yuki took off his jacket and handed it to me nonchalantly, eyeing the guy with a bored expression. I think that was what amazed me the most - I could see the anger coiled in his body, I could see it in his eyes, but everyone else was completely clueless. Stupid pricks.
The guy didn't know what hit him. Yuki let him throw the first punch and dodged it easily before pummeling him. The guy's friends did nothing but watch, stunned by the ferocity of the attack. Their expressions were filled with awe and fear - two things that are reasonable to feel when you're around Yuki. Yuki would've killed the guy if I hadn't pulled him off - I'm sure of it. Not that I could pull him off really, but I managed to wrap myself around his back enough to stop him and pull him away. I said that I was afraid of him at times like this, but I really mean that I'm afraid for him. I don't want him getting hurt by his own actions.
When we reach the house Yuki slams out of the car and leaves me sitting there alone. I've seen him like this before, it's almost like he's afraid to be near me, afraid he couldn't control what's inside him. I take my time going in, giving him a few minutes alone before I intervene. I know he doesn't need to be alone at times like these. He needs to find an outlet for such extreme emotions.
I find him standing in the bathroom, studying his face in the mirror. The anger's still there, but there's something else - fear. I hate seeing him like this. I move to stand next to him and put my hand on his. He jerks at my touch and he looks at me. There's a warning there - a warning, but also desperation.
I take my time undressing him, first removing his glasses and resting them on the edge of the sink. I'll clean them later; he won't need them for what we're about to do. He stands and allows me to slip off his clothes, not offering to help, not resisting. He watches me with curiosity, but says nothing as I strip out of my clothes and move towards the shower.
Pulling him under the warm spray I hear him sigh. The first noise he's made since we got home. He lets me wash him, still not moving, but allowing me to wash off the blood. His eyes still harbor the anger, but slowly they are clouding with lust as his body reacts to mine. I know he won't hurt me, but I have to give him what he needs - release. Release from his anger, release from the violence, and release from himself.
I watch him for a moment, noticing how his eyes are devouring me, and his hands are shaking slightly. He's afraid to touch me, I can tell, so I move closer. I press my body against his under the warm spray and wrap my arms around his neck. It's all the invitation he needs.
The heat is making me dizzy, the heat from the shower and the heat of his desire. His kisses are searing and savage, marking my skin and claiming me. All I can do is stroke my fingers over his broad shoulders, down his back and try to sooth him with my body. He doesn't hurt me as he presses into me - lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. The small room is filled with my moans of pleasure as he fucks me - his mouth never leaving my skin as he slams into me again and again, my back pushed against the cool tile. He makes sure I've released between our bodies before he lets himself go over the edge - coming deep inside me.
As soon as I can stand he lets go of me. His eyes are searching my face for any sign of hurt and I smile in return. The silence has lasted so long it seems blasphemous to speak, so we towel off in continued silence before making our way into the bedroom. We both know we won't get much sleep tonight, for as soon as we tumble into bed our mouths come together again and we can feel each other's growing arousals.
By morning we fall into an exhausted slumber, wrapped in each other with the scent of our lovemaking the only thing between us. The incident at the bar is all but forgotten, only the bruises on his hands and the marks on my skin a memory of the night.
#21 violence; pillage/plunder; extortion
Snap
Blood. Blood is flecked across his glasses and smudged across his cheek. He looks at me with wild eyes, piercing and deep, and takes my hand. It scares me to see him like this - it shakes me deeply to see such violence within him. Shakes me, but thrills me too. I glance cautiously over my shoulder at the broken form on the ground surrounded by his friends looking at us in horror.
Yuki propels me towards the car, slamming the door when I'm barely inside and by the time I'm seated properly we're speeding off into the night. He's completely silent, staring at the road, his hands clenched on the wheel. I can see blood drying in the creases of his knuckles - the blood of someone stupid enough to cross him.
We were only in the bar for fifteen minutes tops, when this drunken guy tried to get me to play pool. He draped himself over my shoulder and slurred into my ear, completely unaware of the guy I was with. I declined politely, but Yuki didn't take kindly to his persistence - his persistence or his touching me. His tone was like ice when he told the guy to /fuck off/. I would think the glare Yuki shot him would be enough to get rid of him, but the guy was too drunk or too stupid to realize the danger. The guy smirked to his friends and asked Yuki to step outside. He called Yuki a faggot and I found myself holding my breath, wondering if Yuki would lose it right there. But he surprised me, he was perfectly calm as he rose to his feet and headed outside. The guy was shocked I think, used to intimidating people, but not expecting that anyone would call him on it.
The tension was palpable as we stood outside. Yuki took off his jacket and handed it to me nonchalantly, eyeing the guy with a bored expression. I think that was what amazed me the most - I could see the anger coiled in his body, I could see it in his eyes, but everyone else was completely clueless. Stupid pricks.
The guy didn't know what hit him. Yuki let him throw the first punch and dodged it easily before pummeling him. The guy's friends did nothing but watch, stunned by the ferocity of the attack. Their expressions were filled with awe and fear - two things that are reasonable to feel when you're around Yuki. Yuki would've killed the guy if I hadn't pulled him off - I'm sure of it. Not that I could pull him off really, but I managed to wrap myself around his back enough to stop him and pull him away. I said that I was afraid of him at times like this, but I really mean that I'm afraid for him. I don't want him getting hurt by his own actions.
When we reach the house Yuki slams out of the car and leaves me sitting there alone. I've seen him like this before, it's almost like he's afraid to be near me, afraid he couldn't control what's inside him. I take my time going in, giving him a few minutes alone before I intervene. I know he doesn't need to be alone at times like these. He needs to find an outlet for such extreme emotions.
I find him standing in the bathroom, studying his face in the mirror. The anger's still there, but there's something else - fear. I hate seeing him like this. I move to stand next to him and put my hand on his. He jerks at my touch and he looks at me. There's a warning there - a warning, but also desperation.
I take my time undressing him, first removing his glasses and resting them on the edge of the sink. I'll clean them later; he won't need them for what we're about to do. He stands and allows me to slip off his clothes, not offering to help, not resisting. He watches me with curiosity, but says nothing as I strip out of my clothes and move towards the shower.
Pulling him under the warm spray I hear him sigh. The first noise he's made since we got home. He lets me wash him, still not moving, but allowing me to wash off the blood. His eyes still harbor the anger, but slowly they are clouding with lust as his body reacts to mine. I know he won't hurt me, but I have to give him what he needs - release. Release from his anger, release from the violence, and release from himself.
I watch him for a moment, noticing how his eyes are devouring me, and his hands are shaking slightly. He's afraid to touch me, I can tell, so I move closer. I press my body against his under the warm spray and wrap my arms around his neck. It's all the invitation he needs.
The heat is making me dizzy, the heat from the shower and the heat of his desire. His kisses are searing and savage, marking my skin and claiming me. All I can do is stroke my fingers over his broad shoulders, down his back and try to sooth him with my body. He doesn't hurt me as he presses into me - lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. The small room is filled with my moans of pleasure as he fucks me - his mouth never leaving my skin as he slams into me again and again, my back pushed against the cool tile. He makes sure I've released between our bodies before he lets himself go over the edge - coming deep inside me.
As soon as I can stand he lets go of me. His eyes are searching my face for any sign of hurt and I smile in return. The silence has lasted so long it seems blasphemous to speak, so we towel off in continued silence before making our way into the bedroom. We both know we won't get much sleep tonight, for as soon as we tumble into bed our mouths come together again and we can feel each other's growing arousals.
By morning we fall into an exhausted slumber, wrapped in each other with the scent of our lovemaking the only thing between us. The incident at the bar is all but forgotten, only the bruises on his hands and the marks on my skin a memory of the night.
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