Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1148060.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Soul_Eater
  Relationship:
      Giriko/Justin_Law
  Character:
      Giriko_(Soul_Eater), Justin_Law
  Additional Tags:
      Threats_of_Violence, Death_Threats, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, Established_Relationship, Choking
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-22 Words: 3450
****** Threats ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "'What I want is to kill you, prissy priest, I don’t think you’d
     enjoy that very much.' Giriko discovers that Justin's kinks run a lot
     deeper than he expected.
The priest is on his bed when Giriko comes into his room.
The chainsaw doesn’t think of his room as a haven or anything; he doesn’t think
of anywhere as a haven, anymore. The delusion that safe spaces
exist anywhere evaporated sometime during his first century of existence, and
now he’s not used to considering such realism as anything other than a boon. So
it’s not the invasion of his space that irritates him. Nor is it the
implication that Justin’s been there for hours, judging from the way he looks
up with his gaze bleary from almost-sleep and the pattern of Giriko’s sheets
pressed into the skin of his cheek. It’s nothing as specific as the priest
being here, in his room, waiting for him to arrive that irritates the chainsaw;
it’s just general dislike that burns Giriko’s blood with rage.
He crosses the intervening space in two long strides and grabs the front of the
blond’s robes before Justin’s even fully sitting up. “What the fuck are you
doing?” he spits, dragging the priest bodily off the bed so he can throw him
towards the wall. Justin catches his balance, unfortunately, so he goes
stumbling back instead of slamming into the floor or the wall itself, and when
he lifts his head to look at Giriko he’s smiling like the chainsaw’s greeted
him with a kiss.
“Hey there, Giriko,” he says, pulling his rumbled clothes straight on his
shoulders. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah, it’s a real fucking surprise seeing as this is my room.” Giriko comes
forward again, and when Justin doesn’t move back he just walks into him to
shove him backward. “What are you doing here?”
Justin tips his chin just barely up, so he’s looking down his nose at Giriko
even though they’re inch-for-inch in height. His smile hasn’t flickered once.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Good.” Giriko growls. “Great. You fucking saw me. Get out.”
“Aww.” Justin brings his chin down, now, blinks up through feathery lashes.
“Don’t I get anything else? I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“Anything else like what?” Giriko comes forward again, and when he pushes back
this time Justin hits the wall as he steps backward. “You showed up to get
fucked by your favorite dick, is that it?”
Justin blinks, and in the gesture his eyes flicker down to the front of
Giriko’s pants. It’s so brief the chainsaw wouldn’t see it if he weren’t
looking for it, but he is and he does. A moment later the priest’s expression
is cool and collected again, eyes clear and blue and innocent.
“I don’t know what you must think of me.” He leans back against the wall. “Such
vulgar ideas.” One hand comes up to rest against his neck. There’s nothing
immediately suggestive about the movement itself, but it draws Giriko’s eyes to
the line of the priest’s throat as Justin tips his head very slightly to the
side, and the position of his arm twists his hip sideways so suddenly he is
lounging against the wall instead of just resting on it. “I sincerely hope you
will someday see the error of your ways.”
“Not fucking likely.” Giriko reaches out to fist his hand into the priest’s
blond hair and pulls back. The pressure makes Justin flinch, his mask
shattering into reflexive pain for a moment, and Giriko brings his other arm up
and across Justin’s throat so he can lean his weight forward and pin the priest
still.
“Fuck you,” he says, carefully clear even though he wants to spit
unintelligible curses. “You don’t get to waltz in here looking for sex and then
wait for me to initiate when you’re the one who wants it.”
Justin sighs dramatically in spite of the pressure on his throat. “We could
always do what you want.”
“What I want?” Giriko laughs sharply and leans in close so Justin can feel him
breathing. “What I want is to kill you, prissy priest, I don’t think you’d
enjoy that very much.”
“Mm.” Justin blinks and his eyes focus on Giriko’s hyper-close mouth before he
licks his lips. “But aren’t we talking about what you enjoy?”
Giriko has no idea how the priest manages to sound so damn in control when he’s
pinned against the wall with an arm against his throat. The chainsaw growls and
presses in hard until Justin whimpers in breathless pain and wiggles in a
futile attempt at freedom.
“I could just crush your windpipe,” he says. His voice is echoingly calm,
absorbing steady focus from Justin as the blond’s eyes start to go dark with
panic. “You couldn’t stop me with your fucking weapon-form, not now that I’ve
got you at close range like this.” He grins, bright and amused, as Justin’s
hands come up to grab at his wrist and elbow and shove. Even with the wall to
brace against and the priest’s admittedly impressive strength, given his
smaller size, the chainsaw doesn’t even have to try to keep his footing. He
watches Justin try for a minute, waits until the fingers against his arm are
clinging in silent plea instead of desperate resistance.
“See what I mean?” he says conversationally. Justin is staring at his face and
Giriko’s pretty sure he’s never seen the priest look legitimately scared
before. “You could try to cut me, but it’s kind of a long shot when I’ve got my
chains to protect me whenever I need them.” He pauses, then drops his arm with
no warning at all. Justin half-falls forward, catching himself only by his
hands still against the chainsaw’s arm, and takes an enormous gasping breath
that turns into a choking cough as too much air hits his throat.
Giriko keeps grinning while the priest struggles to fill his lungs, viciously
satisfied at this evidence of the blond’s broken facade. “So what was that
about what I want?”
Justin’s head is down, breathing turning steady if not clear yet, and his
fingers are still clinging hard to Giriko’s arm like it’s the only thing
keeping him up. He takes a breath, and lifts his head, and Giriko chokes on his
own amusement. Whatever fear was in his eyes a moment ago is entirely gone now,
but the collected cool is absent as well; all that blue has turned hot and
desperate, and before Giriko has a chance to do more than process the priest’s
expression the blond is lunging at him, hands reaching for the back of his neck
and his hair as Justin crushes his mouth against Giriko’s.
The priest’s approach is so unexpected that Giriko actually stumbles back a
step before he catches himself. Justin’s got his arms around the chainsaw’s
neck and moves with him, though, kissing him so hard that his teeth are
catching on Giriko’s lips and Giriko’s mouth is opening instinctively before he
means to do so. Then Justin’s tongue is in his mouth, and his own hands are
grabbing handfuls of the priest’s robes, and just because this wasn’t what
he expected doesn’t mean he can’t react correctly. He pulls Justin in against
him and even through three layers of fabric he can feel the priest’s cock hard
against him, and he laughs brittle with surprise into Justin’s mouth.
“The fuck,” he manages, pulling back an inch. Justin mewls and comes in against
his neck instead, pressing a line of desperate kisses against Giriko’s jawline
and throat. Giriko grabs at the priest’s shoulder to regain some measure of
control but doesn’t actually push the blond entirely away. “You really are a
kinky little fuck, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Justin breathes, and he sounds all raw and needy like Giriko has never
heard him before. The chainsaw growls and shoves back, hard enough that
Justin’s grip comes loose and he falls back against the wall, but Giriko’s
there before the priest has a chance to recover. Justin looks up at him, and
this time the shadow in his eyes is all sincere, without the teasing bite of
his earlier expression.
“I can’t believe you get off on this,” Giriko says, reaching out to brace a
hand on the wall over Justin’s shoulder. “Seriously?” He grabs at the blond’s
robes with his free hand and Justin reaches to help, tugging the cloth up over
his head so Giriko can toss it aside. Without the disguising robes around him
Justin looks even skinnier, narrow hips in tight-fitting pants and angular
shoulders under a white t-shirt, and Giriko reaches out to dig his palm hard
into the priest’s lower ribs. Justin exhales hard and goes languid-limp against
the wall, and Giriko leans in close to growl into his ear.
“I could bring up chains on my hand right now,” he says, and he can hear
Justin’s breath catch in the back of his throat. “The highest gear would go
right through you before you’d have a chance to react.” He does think about it,
tugs the spin of his weapon-form up just under his skin until Justin can feel
the texture, a threat and a promise against his fragile ribcage. “A lower gear
would take a little longer. You’d have time to realize what was happening, at
least.”
Justin arches his back up off the wall, digs his skin hard against Giriko’s
palm, and the almost-there chains catch and tear at his shirt before Giriko
snatches his hand away.
“Fuck,” he says again, but he’s reaching for the priest’s shirt again, with
just ordinary human fingers this time. Justin wiggles obligingly when the
chainsaw pulls the fabric up over his head, but Giriko catches it before
Justin’s arms are entirely free, twists the thin cloth into a makeshift rope to
catch the blond’s wrists so he can pin them up over Justin’s head with one
hand. The priest doesn’t even struggle, just curves away from his wrists to
grind his hips against Giriko’s thigh. The chainsaw grins and steps in close to
crush Justin’s body between himself and the wall; the priest moans but goes
perfectly silent as Giriko starts talking again.
“I could take a saw to your wrists,” he suggests, twisting the cloth tighter
around his fingers so it cuts sharp against Justin’s narrow wrists. “With your
hands up like this you’d be bleeding out over your own face.” He drags his free
hand through Justin’s blond curls and the priest lets him pull his head along
with the movement of his hair, eyes fixed on Giriko’s face and mouth open as if
he can’t recall how to close it. “It’d be all in your hair and over your face.”
He leans in closer. “You could taste it, even, if you’re into that.” He grins.
“I could lick it off your face myself.” He trails his tongue against the
priest’s cheekbone and Justin shudders and shuts his eyes. Giriko keeps going,
leaving a path of moisture down along the priest’s ear until he gets to the
flutter of heartbeat under his ear.
“Be kind of slow, though.” He considers. “Faster if I just tore your throat out
with my teeth.”
Justin sighs and tips his head to the side like he’s offering himself, and
Giriko can’t entirely refuse the suggestion. He sets his teeth against the
priest’s throat, trails his tongue against the speeding rhythm of the blond’s
pulse, and bites down until his mouth fills with the metallic tang of blood and
Justin moans low in his throat, where Giriko can feel the vibration against his
lips.
He pulls back; the bite’s not deep, in actual fact, just the imprint of teeth
done in red on Justin’s skin. He steps back and pulls Justin as he does so,
twisting and tugging so when he lets go of the priest’s tangled shirt Justin
stumbles and actually falls against the floor before fetching up against the
side of the bed.
Giriko jerks his chin towards the mattress. “Get up,” he orders, and Justin
does, scrambling onto the bed even before he pauses to untangle his hands from
his ruined shirt. Giriko’s there as soon as he pulls one wrist free, grabbing
at the cloth and pulling it loose, and Justin drops back flat on the bed under
the chainsaw like he’s never anything but perfectly obedient. The priest’s
mouth is open more to gasp at air than to speak and his eyes are wide and
dilated black until he looks like he’s barely aware of his surroundings at all.
It’s all the prettier for how fucking chatty he usually is, the give in his
body when Giriko shoves him back into the mattress the more satisfying for the
lack of the resistance the chainsaw usually encounters. When he reaches down to
pull the button on the priest’s pants free Justin doesn’t even buck up into the
contact, just shuts his eyes and groans back in his throat like Giriko is
pulling the sound involuntarily from his body.
“I can’t believe you,” Giriko half-laughs as he gets the priest’s fly down and
digs his palm viciously against Justin’s hard cock. The blond gasps for air but
doesn’t open his eyes. “Do you have a death wish or some shit like that? Or is
it some sort of fucking brinksmanship?”
Justin brings one shaking hand up to cover his eyes, but Giriko can still see
his parted lips damp with desperate moisture. He shrugs with one shoulder,
takes a breath, and manages, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Giriko leans back just long enough to drag Justin’s remaining
clothes free and toss them aside before leaning back in while he fumbles
through the paraphernalia jumbled together on the stand next to the bed. “How
can you not know?” His fingers settle on the bottle of lube and he sits back
up, grabs at Justin’s hip to shove the priest up at a better angle for his
purposes. Justin lifts himself obligingly and Giriko drips lube across the
priest and his hand both in one messy movement.
“Or do you just like it?” He shoves a finger inside the priest and that gets a
reaction beyond passive capitulation. Justin moans again and arches his back so
hard that it can’t be comfortable; the hand across his face reaches for
Giriko’s wrist and closes tighter than Giriko thought Justin could hold. He
grins even though Justin’s not looking at him and starts pumping his hand
inside the blond, speaking louder so Justin can hear him over his own gasping
breathing. “You just know it gets you hard, me telling you what awful things
I’d do to you?” He adds another finger; there’s almost not a response from
Justin beyond a momentary hitch in his breathing and a slight increase in
volume. “It gets me hard too,” he offers, digging his hips against Justin’s leg
to demonstrate. “Lucky you.” He reaches for his fly with his free hand, shaking
off Justin’s hold in spite of the intensity of the priest’s grip. Justin’s eyes
come open and he looks down to watch the movement of Giriko’s hand as he gets
his pants open and slides his dick free; there’s a flicker of eyelashes as the
chainsaw closes his left hand over himself and strokes once, more for the slow
burn of contact than with the determination of actually getting off.
Giriko leans in closer to Justin so he can let his voice go low and purring
against the blond’s shoulder. “Do you fantasize about it?” He can feel Justin
shaking under his mouth, can hear the little hiccup of air that’s as good as
affirmation to his question. “Lying in your bed alone at night with your
fingers around your cock thinking about my hands around your throat or my
chains tearing through your skin?” Justin groans like he’s being punched,
writhes under Giriko so his shoulder actually hits the chainsaw’s mouth before
Giriko has a chance to pull back. He does, still grinning, and pulls his
fingers free from the priest so he can slick lubrication up over his own cock.
“You do don’t you.” A few strokes does the job so he can let himself go and
shift his grip to Justin’s hips. Giriko comes forward  so his weight is on his
knees instead of his feet; he looks down as he slides into Justin, but he keeps
talking as he comes forward. “Do you think about the way your blood would look
on my hands?” Justin is wiggling, writhing and arching as Giriko comes forward,
and the chainsaw would tell him to stop except that it feels amazing, friction
and heat and tightness all coming together until he has to stop talking to
focus on breathing. Then he’s in, buried in Justin and feeling every motion the
priest makes, and Giriko goes still over the blond for a moment.
He reaches out to press his palm flat on Justin’s chest, pushing down until the
priest is struggling to take a full breath under the chainsaw’s weight. His
fingers splayed out look enormous, or maybe it is Justin that looks frail, like
Giriko could shatter him on accident.
“My chains would go right through your ribs,” he says, calmly in spite of the
current situation, and Justin’s cock twitches against his stomach. Giriko
grins, rests his weight on the palm against Justin’s chest, and reaches down to
wrap his fingers around the blond’s cock while the priest pants shallowly in a
desperate attempt at air. “If I was fast enough...” He slides his hand over
Justin and the blond shuts his eyes and groans before rocking up instinctively
into his touch. “I could watch your heart stop beating.” Justin is breathing so
fast and so shallow he’s starting to hyperventilate. Giriko shifts his hand to
the mattress and Justin gasps deep. The chainsaw angles his body to slide back
so he can thrust back into the priest. Justin’s hands are skimming over
himself, one tangled into a fist in his hair and the other trailing sensation
down over waist and hip and stomach so his fingers bump against Giriko’s hand
working his cock.
Giriko leans in and licks the drying blood from Justin’s neck. “You could watch
me watch you die,” he purrs, and Justin wails a moan like Giriko’s murmuring
the most affectionate endearments. “I’d be the last thing you’d ever see.” He
speeds the movement of his hand, jerks harder until Justin gasps and arches
against him and he can drop over the priest and curl his fingers around the
back of Justin’s neck to hold him steady. It’s easier to thrust up into him
with the priest still, and Justin tips his head back like Giriko’s fingers are
the only thing holding him up. The limp line of his throat draws Giriko’s
mouth; he bites hard to draw fresh blood and can feel Justin’s responsive moan
against his mouth more than he can hear it.
The priest’s hands shift from his body to Giriko’s as he gets close; Giriko can
feel the tension winding tight under his skin before fingers wind into his hair
and dig hard into his hip. The movement gives him enough warning that he can
bring his teeth back to scrape sharp-edged over Justin’s throat, and the priest
gasps wordlessly and comes hard over Giriko’s fingers and under his body. The
convulsive movement is almost enough in itself, and when Giriko can let his
hold on Justin’s cock go to brace himself with both hands it only takes a few
more moments of Justin gasping in his ear and fingers gripping bruises into his
skin before he groans against Justin’s throat as pleasure crashes over him. His
hands grab tighter without his intention, so when his awareness has come back
in from the blank satisfaction of orgasm and he loosens his hold he has left
indentations in Justin’s skin that take a minute to clear, promising marks for
at least a day or two as evidence.
Giriko rolls sideways so he’s more on the mattress than he is on Justin, but
the priest turns to follow him so he stays pressed up against the chainsaw’s
shirt and his fingers stay oddly gentle against the back of Giriko’s neck. With
the languid relaxation of orgasm draining his usually angry tension, Giriko can
look at Justin and can smile without any vicious edge to it at all.
“You’re crazy,” he offers, and it’s a comment and not an insult.
Justin makes a sound that is part a laugh and part a purr and part agreement
and tucks his head against Giriko’s shirt. Giriko tangles his fingers into the
priest’s blond hair and lets his unusual calm drift into pleasure in his head.
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