Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1180107.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Soul_Eater
  Relationship:
      Giriko/Justin_Law
  Character:
      Giriko_(Soul_Eater), Justin_Law
  Additional Tags:
      No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Teasing, Established
      Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-12 Words: 3560
****** Calm ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "'Do you like pretending I don’t get to you?'" Giriko sets out to
     break Justin's composure. Justin has other ideas.
Justin’s working when Giriko comes looking for him. Not that that stops the
chainsaw or even gets him to hesitate much; the priest is always working. It’s
not healthy, in Giriko’s opinion, and much more important than the blond’s
health is Giriko’s own displeasure with the lack of attention.
“Hey.” Giriko leans against Justin’s shoulders, dropping all of his weight onto
the priest so he rocks forward and the chainsaw can reach down to pull the
papers in front of Justin away and up to his own eye level. “What are you
doing?”
“Getting manhandled, apparently.” Justin recovers enough to shove back, pushing
off the desk so Giriko has to step back to avoid the back of the blond’s head
crushing his nose. “I was filling out a report for Lord Death.” He turns in his
chair, though he doesn’t grab for the paper as Giriko was half-hoping he would.
Still. His headphones are out, which is a good sign; if he really doesn’t want
to be bothered they stay in, and his reaction would have been a lot less verbal
and involve a lot more razor-edged blades along his arms.
Giriko grins, and tosses the paper over his shoulder to land disregarded on the
floor. “Sounds boring. And unimportant.”
Justin rolls his eyes and sighs. “It is neither, though your opinion
certainly could matter to people other than me. Leave me alone, Giriko.” He’s
not smiling, but he’s not frowning yet, either, the line of true anger is still
absent from between his eyes for all that he’s tipping his chin down to try and
hide it. Which means Giriko’s nose is probably safe.
The chainsaw steps back in, leans against the back of the chair instead of
Justin himself so he is exhaling hot against the priest’s skin. “You really
want me to leave you alone?” He comes in closer, turns his head so his nose
brushes against Justin’s instead of crushing it. Justin doesn’t pull away.
“Lord Death must really be a slavedriver. You should have come over to my side
instead of dragging me onto yours, at least mine knew how to have a good time.”
“Funny how they’re all dead, now,”Justin offers cooly. “And my sense of
personal responsibility has nothing to do with Lord Death’s requests.”
“So you can take a break.” Giriko’s mouth is nearly against Justin’s now.
Justin doesn’t answer, but he still isn’t pulling away, and when Giriko reaches
out to grab the back of his neck and pull their mouths together he can feel the
curve of a half-repressed smile against the priest’s lips. When he bites not-
very-gently on that curve Justin’s breath leaves his lungs in a huff, and
Giriko takes advantage of the blond’s lips parting to slide his tongue into the
warmth of the priest’s mouth. Justin doesn’t reach up to grab at Giriko
himself, doesn’t even tip his head to accommodate the chainsaw’s movements, but
he’s still not pushing Giriko away, and sometimes with Justin a lack of
resistance is the most Giriko can get out of him.
He pulls back without relinquishing his hold on the blond’s neck, tugs Justin
forward until the priest has to throw a hand out to catch himself on the back
of his chair or fall forward. When Giriko looks at Justin’s face the priest’s
blue eyes are perfectly clear, his expression utterly composed as if he has
only just looked up from whatever boring work he was doing before, and Giriko
hisses.
“Damn you.” When he bites this time he breaks the skin and the taste of
Justin’s blood splashes over his tongue. Justin doesn’t even flinch, just licks
his torn lip as soon as Giriko lets him go. “Do you like pretending I don’t get
to you?”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” Justin moves when Giriko pulls on his wrist,
comes around the edge of the chair towards the other man with what looks like
perfect submission, but his eyes are sparkling with dark amusement. It’s
infuriating, the more so because Giriko can feel that shadowed laughter setting
his blood running hot in his veins. “Who said you get to me?”
“Fuck you,” Giriko says, pulls Justin in hard enough that the blond stumbles
and has to catch himself against the chainsaw’s chest. “I damn well know I get
to you, even if you like to play a fucking ice princess sometimes.”
“Mm,” Justin offers noncommittally. Giriko grabs a handful of his hair without
letting go his too-tight grip on the priest’s wrist and pulls the blond’s head
far back, and Justin doesn’t even laugh, just smirks and blinks at the ceiling.
When Giriko presses his lips to the priest’s skin he can feel Justin breathing,
can feel the faintest stutter of adrenaline under the pattern, but Justin’s
still not saying anything, and though his body is starting to betray him Giriko
wants to hear it.
He pulls back and lets his hold go, and Justin lifts his head as Giriko turns
to drag him forcibly out of the room. “Come here,” he hisses, and Justin comes,
still offering that odd faux-obedience while withholding the shattered
composure that Giriko wants with all the fire running through his blood.
Justin stops moving as soon as Giriko drops his hold. They end up just inside
the doorway to the bedroom; Justin is as still and calm as if he is a doll,
except for the amusement getting brighter in his eyes as he watches Giriko
seethe. When Giriko grabs at the front of his robes and drags him in he comes,
tips his head up against Giriko’s as if the chainsaw is kissing him with any
gentleness and he doesn’t feel the cutting edge of teeth against his mouth or
the slam of the wall against his shoulders as Giriko shoves him back.
“Fuck you,” Giriko says again when he pulls back enough to see what he’s doing
as he pulls sharply at the priest’s clothes. “Lift your arms, damn you,” and
Justin does. If he hadn’t Giriko was ready to cut his clothes off him, see if
that would get him more of a reaction than the aggression on his form would; he
still considers it for a moment before discarding the idea and the fabric in
his hands in favor of reaching out for Justin’s body. The priest is responding,
Giriko has to admit that much; he arches in expectantly for Giriko’s touch,
curves in towards the chainsaw’s fingers pressing against the softness of his
waist and the lines of his ribcage, and with the disguising cloth gone his dark
pants are not doing much to cover the evidence of his arousal. When Giriko
shoves back to pin Justin flat to the wall and brings his mouth in to cover the
blond’s, Justin goes, parts his lips and lets Giriko’s tongue sweep possession
inside his mouth, and when Giriko shoves his hips hard against the blond’s
there’s a moment of impulsive response, Justin’s body shifting to press back
instead of just accepting, and it sends a tiny surge of delighted adrenaline
through Giriko’s head.
When he pulls back he’s grinning, and when he sees Justin’s face the blond is
too, the expression so taut it looks like he might not be able to help himself,
and Giriko is almost laughing as he sets his fingers against the priest’s neck
and steers him towards the tangled sheets on the bed.
“Take your pants off,” he orders, letting go of Justin to work his own free.
Justin drops to the edge of the bed and works as fast as Giriko does, so by the
time Giriko has his own clothing free and turns back Justin is lying back over
the mattress, arching his back up so his hips leave the support and he can
slide his jeans free. The chainsaw makes a strangled sound at the way Justin is
curving, like gravity is more a suggestion than a law, and the blond grins and
tosses his pants aside before dropping back down to the sheets, stretching out
slow and luxurious and deliberately provocative.
“Fuck,” Giriko spits. He can’t even wait to get onto the bed properly before
his mouth is on the blond’s skin, licking at the sharp line of hipbone and the
curve of Justin’s stomach rather than waiting to get to the priest’s mouth.
Justin hisses at the contact, and Giriko can feel his muscles going taut under
the sensation, but when he looks up hopefully those blue eyes are still clear
and steady and the priest’s face is calm and unruffled by the irrepressible
reactions of his body.
“I don’t get it,” Giriko says, sliding up Justin’s body while staying close
enough that the blond can feel the friction of his skin pulling over the
other’s. He comes in again to bite at the edge of Justin’s jawline, run his
tongue against the priest’s earlobe, and Justin tips his head and breathes hard
but doesn’t say anything. “Why are you so damn calm with me?”
“You think I’m calm?” Justin says. Calmly. Even when Giriko slides his hand
hard along the blond’s side to drag his fingers over the priest’s cock Justin’s
speech doesn’t so much as falter. “I’m flattered, really, that you think so
highly of my composure.”
“Like that,” Giriko growls through his teeth. He bites at Justin’s ear but the
aggression doesn’t get a reaction and doesn’t make him feel any better. “It’s
like you’re not even here right now.”
“But I am here.” Justin is teasing him, Giriko can hear the amusement pulling
the words tight. “And I’m certainly responsive enough.” He bucks his hips up to
press his cock harder against the chainsaw’s fingers. “Or is this not what
you’re looking for?”
Giriko opens his mouth to respond before he sees that there’s no reasonable
answer to that. “Fuck you,” he says instead, bites again to leave a mark
against Justin’s shoulder, and comes up and away so he can reach for the lube.
“You know damn well what I mean.”
“Hm.” Justin is looking up at the ceiling, smiling like he’s listening to a
joke only he can hear. “I suppose I do, at that. Do you doubt my interest?”
Giriko looks away from Justin’s face, hissing in undirected frustration, and
reaches down to force Justin’s leg up and out of his way. Justin lets him,
spreads his legs wide and angles his hips up, and that should be enough, the
willingness implicit in the act ought to be enough to calm Giriko’s irritation.
“Because I certainly am,” Justin says, as if his movement wasn’t clear answer
enough. “I want you to fuck me, Giriko, isn’t that what you want to hear?”
Giriko hisses again, angrier now than he was before, and pushes Justin’s leg up
needlessly and uncomfortably far before he slides a slick finger inside the
priest’s ass. Justin stops speaking for a moment, and for a minute Giriko
thinks he’s done it, but then the blond takes a breath and keeps going and
sounds very nearly as calm as he did before.
“It’s even true.” He’s smiling, still; that curve hasn’t left his mouth in
minutes now. “I want you to fuck me into the mattress, fuck me until I can’t
remember my name, until nothing in my whole world is important except for
you not stopping.” His breath hitches as Giriko shifts his hand but then he
continues as if nothing has happened at all. Giriko can’t look away from his
face or the move of his mouth around the words he’s saying. “I want you to bury
your cock in me so I can feel every movement you make all down my spine and
keep pounding me until I come just from youlooking at me. Are you going to keep
fingerfucking me, or are you just going to admire the view?”
Giriko didn’t realize he had stopped moving until Justin speaks, and even as he
flushes hot from self-consciousness and moves to thrust two fingers inside the
priest Justin is going on. “You’ll need at least two fingers, you’re so fucking
big.” It’s Giriko that chokes in reaction, not Justin, and even when the blond
laughs he sure doesn’t sound like he’s got Giriko’s fingers inside him.
“I don’t --” Giriko starts, but Justin is shifting against his touch, not able
to get much traction but doing his best to fuck himself on
Giriko’s fingers while his gaze is still level and cool on the ceiling, and the
chainsaw’s patience is entirely frayed through. “Fuck,” he says, and shoves his
fingers in hard once more, hard enough that Justin rocks back a half-inch over
the sheets, before he draws his hand free and comes in to set himself between
Justin’s thighs.
“You’re don’t make any fucking sense,” he mutters. When he pushes Justin brings
his legs up to his chest obligingly and tips his head down so at least
he’s looking at the chainsaw, even if he still looks distantly intrigued rather
than panting and desperate. “Either you’re lying or you’re putting on a hell of
an act and I dunno why you’d bother.”
Justin’s forehead creases in confusion. “An act?” Giriko reaches out to hold
his weight on Justin’s shoulder and thrusts into the blond, and for a brief
moment there’s not even the sound of breathing. He pauses halfway in, trying to
catch his own breath, and Justin goes on. “What do you mean, Giriko, I’m being
perfectly sincere.”
“Like hell.” Giriko comes the rest of the way forward and the tight heat of
Justin around him is almost enough to convert his frustration into pure desire.
It is enough to do away with his filter, so what he says is, “You’re being calm
on purpose, just to irk me.”
“Is that the problem?” Justin asks, and blinks. The movement takes the careful
control with it, and when he opens his eyes the blue is hazy and unfocused
and desperate, wanting. His hands come up to grab at Giriko’s neck and waist,
he rocks his hips up even though Giriko can’t go any farther, and when he
speaks every word is underlined with anguished need.
“Giriko, please, move don’t just stay there.”
Giriko obeys, shocked into action by Justin’s reaction as much as by his own
need. Justin takes a deep shuddering breath as he draws out and screams when
Giriko thrusts forward, his whole face dropping into the almost-agony of
excessive pleasure, and the chainsaw can’t breathe, he can’t think. Justin
drops his hold on Giriko’s hip to wrap his fingers around himself and pull
needy sensation over his own cock, and after a moment Giriko shifts his weight
so he can pull Justin’s fingers free and replace them with his own. Justin
gasps and bucks up into the other man’s touch and Giriko groans at the feel of
the priest moving around him, he can feel Justin’s length jerk under his touch
and the blond isn’t going to last long at all.
Justin blinks again, and his eyes clear. He tips his head, curious, and his
words when he speaks are level again, perfectly calm although Giriko can still
feel his body responding desperately under his fingers. “Is that what you
wanted?”
There is a moment of still silence, as Giriko gapes down at Justin’s face and
his thoughts stall out on the confusion and whiplash reaction to the priest’s
words. Then Justin starts to laugh, keeps laughing even when Giriko growls and
drops his hold on the blond’s cock.
“Was that an act too?” he demands, and Justin is legitimately laughing, gasping
too hard for air to form a response. When the chainsaw pulls out he can see the
blond flinch at the sudden jerk of sensation but he keeps giggling, high and
genuine and amused. Giriko is spitting in anger and Justin’s lack of resistance
when he grabs the blond’s hips and flips him over is almost worse than any sort
of fight would be, but then he gets up on his knees and reaches down the line
of Justin’s back to shove his shoulders down into the mattress, and that does
help. The angle muffles the last flood of laughter from the blond and
does amazing things to his back, and when Giriko thrusts back inside Justin
with one fast stroke he can see the blond’s body jerk in reaction more than he
can hear the startled intake of breath.
“You’re gonna have to wait,” he growls. “Just for that, you’ll have to wait
until I’m done.”
He half-expects more of that taunting calm, but Justin just whimpers, “Yes,”
and brings his hands up over his head, offering his wrists to Giriko to hold in
place. The chainsaw laughs sharply and accepts, locking his fingers around the
other’s narrow wrists and then pressing back down on angular shoulderblades.
Between the pressure on Justin’s shoulders and a hand at his hip it’s easy to
hold the blond in place while Giriko thrusts into him. The angle is good for
Giriko but he knows from experience that it’s great for Justin, and all the
priest’s assumed confidence is gone now. Justin is gasping irregular breaths
and moaning with every motion of Giriko’s hips, and Giriko can feel his fingers
flex uselessly against his shoulders, gaining enough traction to pull desperate
scratches over his skin.
“Are you sorry?” he asks, and Justin takes a breath and says, “No,” and Giriko
was expecting that answer, honestly, and all he can do is laugh and thrust
forward again, hard enough that Justin shifts forward in spite of the
chainsaw’s hands steadying the blond.
“Yeah,” he says, and he’s sounding breathless now too, though he still retains
the upper hand over Justin’s current state. “Yeah, I wasn’t really thinking you
would be.” His anger is burning off into pleasure, now, aided in the transition
by the shift of Justin’s muscles as he half-heartedly struggles against
Giriko’s hold and the audible whine of the priest’s breathing. “You weren’t
lying, were you?”
“No,” Justin manages. “No, I -- I want -- this, don’t stop -- Giri -- Giriko.”
Giriko groans. The sound of his name broken apart by Justin moaning goes
straight through his self-control to flare his blood hot, and he can feel the
rhythm of his hips break apart into desperation as his body tries to seek out
friction and heat at once. Then it’s on him, incoherence spilling into his
tongue and breath and movements all at once, so his hold on Justin’s wrists go
loose as the fingers against the blond’s waist spasm tight, and he thrusts
forward and comes, pleasure spilling through his veins until it’s all he can do
to keep his balance over his knees on the mattress.
He doesn’t think about Justin for a moment, doesn’t think about anything at all
while he takes a breath and sighs in satisfaction. Then Justin takes a breath,
and it’s more of a whine than a proper inhale, and when Giriko looks down the
blond has his fingers locked behind his head and his shoulders are shaking with
the effort of keeping them off himself.
Giriko laughs. When he slides free he can see the tremor of sensation run
straight down Justin’s spine, and when he drops sideways he has to pull
Justin’s hip before the priest collapses and turns himself to fit his shoulders
against Giriko’s chest. The chainsaw comes up on an elbow, looks down at
Justin’s face as he trails his fingers over the blond’s hip. Justin’s hands are
still where they were, his eyes utterly unfocused, his mouth open and gasping
for air like he’s drowning, and he barely reacts when Giriko says, “God you’re
hot.”
The chainsaw brings his fingers down from the blond’s hip, ghosts them over the
front of Justin’s thigh. “I feel like you owe me some sort of revenge for that,
you know.” Justin is shaking against him, like all the composure from before
was a loan that is coming due now. “What if I just didn’t get you off at all?”
Justin shuts his eyes, and moans in desperate refusal of the possibility, and
Giriko chuckles and tips his head down to lick the back of Justin’s ear.
Then he closes his fingers around Justin’s cock, all at once with no
forewarning, and he can feel the blond’s jerk of reaction all against his body.
Giriko grins down even though Justin’s eyes are squeezed shut and the blond
can’t see him, and when he purrs, “I want to see you come,” the priest’s mouth
comes open and he groans so Giriko’s not at all surprised when he feels the
spasm of orgasm ripple through Justin’s form.
He waits until Justin is gasping in some approximation of a normal rhythm
before he lets his hold go and bites not-quite-gently at the blond’s ear.
“Were you trying to needle me?” he growls in a rough whisper.
He can feel Justin laugh more than he can hear it. When he speaks the blond
sounds breathless and shaky and satisfied, the sound soaking straight through
his speech. “When am I not needling you, Giriko?”
Giriko considers this for a moment, considers biting Justin’s ear again. But he
ends up laughing, and Justin grins and twists around to kiss his jawline.
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