I do nooot know how to label/categorize my fics anymore! D: Is it suspense? angst? I dunno. D: Whatever.

Disclaimer: I don't own GB but I wish I did!

Ginji doesn't breathe.

Instead he is gasping, his body racking and jolting with tension—so much that there are sparks, and heat, and he can't help but to whimper—

"I can't get you out of my head." Akabane murmurs as Ginji's body spasms underneath him.

Ginji doesn't cry.

Instead he is biting at his lip, holding on and holding in the noises that threaten to escape his body. He is tightening his muscles still, his hands threatening to bleed with the force of his grip on the now burnt sheets—long withered away under his sparkling hands—but Ginji can't stop the shakes.

Ginji is moaning.

The cool blades are nicking at his skin, slicing him open, making him bleed. His blood falls in a warm uncomfortable trail and Ginji shudders as Akabane licks at his wounds, nuzzling his skin. His hair is pulled back harshly and Ginji's mouth falls open into a strangled moan as Akabane fingers nudge him open. It feels indecent and ever-so-hot despite the fact that he knows that that's not a finger anymore—it feels too cool in his ever-hot body—and Ginji hisses, knowing he'll never be this hard, ever again. When Akabane removes his knife from him Ginji's body gives out a jolt: he wonders if it's longing.

Ginji is growling.

"I could knock you out right now…" Ginji growls, his voice menacing, promising, as Akabane's teeth pierces his neck. A hot, languid tongue is trailing roughly down the blonde's spine, his rectum, and Akabane shudders in delight at Ginji's increasingly sparkling skin.
"Then why don't you?" the dark man laughs.

Ginji hates this!

"I hate you" Ginji mutters, ignoring the crack of his voice as Akabane thrusts into him deeply. His eyes are shut tight in distaste, his body tensing more than ever as Akabane chuckles in his ear, mockingly, as if he knew something that he didn't.

Ginji loves it.

He gasps again as Akabane's gloved hands grab at his hips, pulling him mercilessly into him. The rough feel of cloth against his naked hips makes him shudder, his mouth opening into a silent shout as his prostrate is continuously defiled. His body is sparkling, the jolts flying and expanding with every thrust and moan and—"Aaah!" Ginji cries as his body is pulled back hard into Akabane's erection. He feels full and hard and he can't control it anymore, electricity is dancing all around them and as he grabs at his throbbing erection, his grip tight and rough and god those gloves—

He comes hard all over the sheets.

Akabane doesn't stop.

His fingers are leaving bruising imprints, his grip tight on Ginji's hips as he pulls the boy's body back into his own. Akabane can't help but to tease, whispering dark, dark things into the blonde's ear. Things like "you're mine," and "yeess, so good…"

Akabane doesn't listen.

"Stop it!" the blonde snarls. He is struggling and wiggling and thrashing and it feels oh-so-good that Akabane can't help but to shake in amusement at his prey's antics. His hands are trailing over the boy's exposed skin, his fingers darting to touch at the skin.

"I won't let you go," he promised his hand tight around Ginji's dripping erection.

Akabane can only call it defeat.

Though he's not sure who's exactly losing here. Is it Ginji, whose limp body offers no resistance to this act any longer? Or is it Akabane, who can no longer torture a reaction against this lifeless body?

Akabane can only call it obsession.

His hands are groping at the blonde's skin, holding him tighter, holding him closer. He wants to have all of Ginji. He wants to own him. As his nails rack down into the lightning emperor's skin he can't help but to pull him closer, wishing to mesh their bodies into one.

Akabane likes to be rough.

He likes it as Ginji's hands are restrained, bent over a desk, cold ass up in the air, waiting for him. He likes it as Ginji moans, quite wantonly, pushing back his body into Akabane's rough gloved finger which are twisting and plunging and torturing—

He likes it as Ginji flinches, little sparks flying as he breaks him, using knifes and paddles and thrusting into him deep into the desk—the old furniture is cutting at his skin and Ginji can't help but to gasp as his burning erection rubs against the rough wood.

Akabane likes to be gentle.

His hands are caressing at his skin, lips trailing over the smooth skin. Ginji parts his mouth in his sleep and Akabane can't help but to capture them with his own, his tongue slipping into Ginji's mouth, savoring him. Akabane knows Ginji is awake, even before the blonde starts to move his own mouth against his own.

Ginji is lying.

To himself, to Paul, to Ban—he is lying as he smiles at the mirror, sunnily and blissful; he is lying as he walks out of the bar, ignoring Paul's knowing look, sipping his coffee with darted eyes; he is lying as his partner waves him off from the car, wishing him well with 'the ladies' Ban leers.

Akabane is waiting.

He is leaning against the wall as Ginji walks past him into the building. He is smirking darkly, in amusement, as Ginji's eyes refuse to meet his own. He is hissing, thrashing as he is pinned against the door of his room, his coat slipping off his shoulders. Ginji's mouth is wide and open, willing and shamed; his cheeks are burning as he takes Akabane further down his throat, making lovely noises as he swallows him on his knees, begging to be taken and fucked.

Akabane knows Ginji can't get enough of him.