FicWad

Midou Ban was no romantic, but he suspected sex was more meaningful when you actually cared about the person you were with. It was still theory, really, because Ban had killed more people than he'd bedded, and it was easier to find meaning in the killing than the fucking.

He enjoyed the show Hevn put on, no doubt, and wouldn't pass up the opportunity for a grope, but. He talked, and leered, and hit the sheets alone, more often that not. It didn't bother him, really (which wouldn't keep him from introducing his fist to anyone who dared comment, because Midou Ban had a reputation to maintain).

Sex wasn't one of Ban's strongest drives. Survival had been his top priority, and money, and everything else was gravy. He didn't like being touched, didn't trust anyone enough to let them near him in a moment of vulnerability, didn't want anyone to expect anything from him he wasn't willing or able to provide. It was quicker, easier, safer, to take care of business on his own, when the need arose. If he had to, he'd jerk off in the shower, or during those rare times when Ginji wasn't at his side; but mostly Ban was busy finding work, keeping Ginji out of trouble, and dragging his sorry ass to safety once he invariably stumbled into it.

Most of the time wasn't right now, though.

Right now was Ginji, warm, and solid, and as stubborn in sleep as he was awake. One foot was hooked around Ban's calf, and he could feel the worn softness of Ginji's sock where his pant leg had ridden up during the night. He spared a moment to be grateful for pulling off Ginji's shoes last night, before he'd fallen into bed besides his exhausted partner. Ban was still tired, but he hadn't been able to sleep through Ginji's squirming at his side as he sought a more comfortable position. He'd finally settled, his face buried in the crook of Ban's neck, with an arm flung across Ban's chest.

He wouldn't move.

Nudging at Ginji only made him wriggle closer. He pressed his face hard into Ban's neck, his mouth wet against Ban's skin as he murmured something that sounded very much like a protesting "Ban-chaaan. . . " His fingers flexed and released against Ban's ribs, a tease along the edges of Ban's awareness.

Ban gritted his teeth, and endured.

He had grown accustomed to Ginji's affectionate behaviour--he had long since begun to look forward to Ginji's easy touches, and enthusiastic hugs. No one could have been more surprised than Ban had been to realize that Ginji made him happy. Being happy was new, and frightening, but Ginji had been kind, and willing to weather Ban's temper as he adjusted to the idea of caring for someone else.

The problem right here, right now, was Ban, and it lived in his head, and heart, and dick. He trusted Ginji, and needed Ginji, and loved Ginji--and Ginji was warm, and solid, and real against Ban's side. Ban wanted. . . he wanted--fuck, he wanted, and it was going to drive him crazy. Maybe he already was crazy, because he had everything he'd never thought he deserved with him right here: latched onto his side, and drooling on his collarbone. He couldn't love Ginji any more than he already did; couldn't make himself any more vulnerable to him than he already was. Reaching for Ginji now didn't have to change anything, because he wasn't blind, and he wasn't stupid, and he would have had to be both not to realize that Ginji loved him, too.

Ban hated being laughed at, hated being the butt of anyone's joke, but fuck, he would have been laughing if this situation involved anyone other than himself, and Ginji. They had everything they needed--love, and desire, and both of them aware of the heat between them--and Ban couldn't bring himself to accept what they both wanted. It was crazy stupid, being strangled by his own desire when Ginji was right there, waiting.

It was crazy, fucking stupid, and it wasn't like Ban seriously believed the universe was lined up against him. Except--

Except that the people who cared about Ban never walked away unscathed. Ban didn't put his trust in luck, but he sometimes thought that it was nothing but luck which had kept Ginji from getting hurt worse than he already had because of Ban--all the things he'd done, because of everything he was. Luck, and fate, and he didn't believe in either of them; but they believed in him, and he'd tested the extent of their forgiveness far enough already.

It wasn't as if Midou Ban believed in old superstitions--but this was Ginji, and Ban wasn't about to do anything to put his partner even further at risk.

After all, he was happy; already happier than he deserved.

--end