Log; Complete

[oneeyedbeast.livejournal.com]

When; December 28th; evening
Rating; NC-17 for extreme violence and sexual themes
Characters; Sakata Gintoki (ginironosora), Takasugi Shinsuke (oneeyedbeast)
Summary; Takasugi and Gintoki finally decide to settle things once and for all with a fight.
Log;

Gintoki slipped out of bed, throwing a wary glance back at the other man, sound asleep, and tip-toed passed the boy on the floor in the living room, freezing when the ninja turned and groaned in her sleep. He slowly pulled his yukata on, then his haori, and wrapped his scarf about him and slipped out the front door, proceeding down the first flight of stairs with caution.

The only one that possibly could've seen him was Zura, but he wouldn't care what Gintoki did in the middle of the night. And tonight, that something was gambling. After asking around, he found there was a half-assed casino in the Underground and figured he'd give it a go and see how it was. Worse comes to worst, he'd smack a few guys upside the head with his replacement bokutou and jam on home.

He passed the Fountain, walking at a leisurely pace, in no real hurry to get there. The City was quite pretty this late a night, blanketed in snow. He could almost hear the sound of every single snowflake as they gathered on any surface. It was soothing, but more importantly, it was peaceful.

Takasugi had been waiting quietly, back against the concrete wall, lingering close to where Gintoki lived. Absently, he blew out a puff of smoke from his pipe, watching it curl in the air and listening intently for the sound of foot steps passing by.

This had been a long time coming –a chance to pry Gintoki open and draw out the Shiroyasha. He wanted to know once and for all if there was any fighting spirit left in that man, and if not, he'd be better off as dead. This world had no room for lingering ghosts from the battlefield and just looking at Gintoki was an eye sore.

He waited until the fade of foot falls before slipping out silently, drawing his sword in one quick move. His own movements were hardly detectable as he pressed against Gintoki's back and slid the sword delicately across his neck, barely nicking him with the blade.

"It's been a while, Gintoki."

Gintoki's body tensed, all muscles winding tight as he felt a familiar chest press up against him, the faint smell of opium seeping from the man's breath, clothes, hair-- but also the heady scent of bloodlust.

The silver-haired samurai smirked lightly, his right hand fisting and relaxing rhythmically. "Finally showed up for a play date, Shinsuke? Why don't you join me? I was on my way to the casino~"

"I have no interest in playing with you," Takasugi murmured, his other hand curling around the silver perm and forcing Gintoki's head further back as he pressed the blade tighter against his skin.

He could see the veins straining along his throat, entranced by the sight of blue lines under pale skin and wandering if they were throbbing along with his pounding pulse. "You still let me sneak up behind you," he whispered, mouth touching Gintoki's ear as he taunted him, "The Shiroyasha I knew would have had me bleeding on the ground in seconds."

"No? I thought you liked games like that." Gintoki didn't dare swallow with that sword pressed to his neck, but his adrenaline was starting to pump and he could feel his heartbeat quickening. He'd been stupid-- truly stupid.

The previous thought of no one seeing him was now a double-edged sword held to his throat, and with no real weapon handy, he could be in a lot of trouble. "I've told you time and again, Shinsuke. The Shiroyasha is gone. He's a boy from the past."

The blade pressed in deeper, drawing more blood, and Takasugi tightened the grip on his hair, wrenching his head closer so he can hiss into Gintoki's sweat-stained cheek. "I told you not to refer to me in such familiar terms. We're no longer comrades. Ever since you abandoned the war effort, I've lost any respect I've ever had for you and Katsura. Now I only wish to impale the both of you."

It wasn't anger that suddenly spread inside of him and made his own heart race but the thrill of having one of the most powerful warriors from the war in his hands and weaponless. He could tear him apart and make him suffer –let him feel the pain of everyone that they'd both watched die and for what? So that their country could be overrun with filthy foreigners.

Gintoki hissed in a breath, swallowing as his head was yanked back further, the sword momentarily cutting deeper. "Th--that's not fair, Shinsuke. You're still calling me by my first name."

He maneuvered quickly, twisting his feet and twirling his body as his hand shot up to grab the blade, his neck twisting against its sharp edge for only another centimeter before he pushed it away and ducked out of Takasugi's grasp, trotting back to gain some distance.

"But I guess we're both getting on in age, hmm?"

He'd gotten away from him. How troublesome. Takasugi stared at the blood now staining his blade, head cocking to one side as he absently dragged his fingers along the steel. "Hm. Interesting."

His lips curled in a grin, and he charged at Gintoki again, swiping outwards to slash across his stomach, hoping to force some more blood out of him. He stopped when he had passed him, glancing over his shoulder to assess the damage of the cut he had just imparted.

"Do you think you can win without a sword, Gintoki?"

Gintoki'd leapt back, feet crunching in the snow, but it hadn't been enough to completely elude the attack, a shallow cut leaving a wide gap in his clothes and drawing blood. He pulled out his hand-carved bokutou from his sash, holding it in front of him as his left foot slid back in the snow, readying his stance.

"I don't know about win, but I bet I can give you a run for your money."

Takasugi laughed as he took in the wooden sword, a true symbol of Gintoki's fallen status. He wasn't even warrior enough to carry around a true sword. It would be a favor at this point to kill him and rid him of his dishonor.

"You can't cut through me with that," he murmured, moving closer, "Or is that precisely why you still carry it ? To rid you of the urge of hurting people. Does it bring you comfort knowing you can't kill me even if you wanted to?"

He laughed again, voice growing hoarse as he raised his sword and struck downwards to cut him in half.

Gintoki brought the sword up in a swift arc, at just the right angle that the density of the wood could actually block a metal sword-- but not for long-- it'd never hold up-- and he smirked, sweat trickling down his temple, stinging as it reached the wound on his neck. "Well yanno, it's just what I had on me at the time. It's hard to find a real sword here!"

But his laugh was unnerving the freelancer. It sent chills up and down his spine-- what happened to the old Shinsuke? He'd never really been the nicest guy on the planet, but they had still been friends...

He just couldn't understand it. Gintoki jolted the hilt and dropped his arms, sidestepping away again.

Takasugi didn't bother wasting any time. Just one second of hesitation was critical, and he moved to cut him again, driving his sword into Gintoki's shoulder and using his speed and momentum to pin him into a wall. The blood spilled out, dripping between them, a growing puddle just under his feet that made Takasugi's lips pull back in a hungry grin.

"Do you feel that Gintoki? Imagine what they felt. Those that died for our cause. Did you forget them?" His neck stretched as his head lurched forward, face hovering closer to Gintoki's as he drove the sword deeper into his shoulder. "How could you have abandoned them?"

Gintoki cried out as his body was jolted against the wall, a searing pain running down his arm, chest, up his neck and into his head, down to his feet and back up. He cringed, almost biting the tip of his tongue, but grabbed the blade again and pulled, trying to yank it free. "I didn't abandon anyone! I protected everyone I could as best as I could! Swords aren't made for protecting people though, Shinsuke-- they're meant for cutting down opponents. That's what I learned in the war! What did you learn?!"

He pulled the blade from his shoulder and staggered faintly, proceeding with the small bit of momentum to jab the hilt of his bokutou into Takasugi's stomach roughly, tottering away until he regained his balance and trotted off, sharp mahogany eyes tracking the other man as he did so.

The opposite hand came up to the shoulder-- his right, his sword-arm… That wasn't good, not at all. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Takasugi was never to be underestimated.

The sharp jab to his stomach forced Takasugi to double over and wrap an arm around himself, eyes narrowing a bit as he stared at Gintoki. He still wasn't taking this fight seriously. He didn't understand that Takasugi had every intention of giving him a painful death.

Straightening again slowly, he rushed towards Gintoki and knocked the pathetic wooden sword out of his hand entirely before pointing the tip of his sword at his throat again. "I learned the same thing. Swords are meant to kill, and that's why I haven't been able to put mine down, yet. I can't bring myself to stop when I look around and see everything Shoyou-sensei had taught us disappear."

"In case you haven't noticed, everything about our world has disappeared. The Amanto, the citizens, the houses, landscape, technology-- all of it. It's all gone. All that's left is us. You, me, Zura, Tatsuma, your lackeys, and that stupid ninja."

Gintoki bent backwards and thrust a leg out, intending to knock the other man off his feet long enough for him to run. He had to find a good weapon and quick. He knew he couldn't elude the other for long with a stick for a sword, which just so happened to fail him in every way, a good ten feet away.

Takasugi kept the sword leveled at Gintoki's throat, the tip brushing some of the blood that had collected there from earlier. It would be so easy to pierce through and end his life for a brief time, but Takasugi wanted to draw out the Shiroyasha to fight him and not this pathetic failure of a samurai.

"And you will roll over and die like this, Gintoki? You would die here by me? I'll hurt them all. Don't you even care?"

He gave a harsh laugh, pressing ever so slightly, drawing another trickle of blood from his throat. "Fight me, Shiroyasha. Fight me, or I'll kill them all after I kill you."

"I'll never let you hurt them. Never," Gintoki ground out, making a dash for his sword, thinking of too many things at once. The one that rung loud and clear, though, was finding a better sword. Any sort of weapon. Something metal and substantial.

His fingers wrapped around the hilt and he lifted it with ease, whipping around to attack Takasugi once more.

'So if your debt is repaid, what will you do if he comes after… you, again?'

Gintoki hadn't been able to answer then, but he was pretty sure, had Tatsuma asked him again, he'd be able to.

He'd fight. And even if it killed him, he would win.

"Oh?" Takasugi drawled out, liking the way Gintoki was looking at him right… like he wanted to kill.

Raising his sword again, he met Gintoki half way, bringing down the blade to attempt to cut him through again. He would draw blood from this one. He would cut him open and tear out the old warrior.

"Come now, Gintoki, fight me at your full strength."

"I'll need a proper sword to do that and all." Gintoki blocked the downward slash with the bokutou, feeling it start to give. Was he gonna have to yank some random pipe out or something?!

"Don't suppose you have a spare for an old friend?" A playful smile flitted at his lips but did nothing more than flicker by. He was calculating. Observing.

Just one small opening was all he needed.

"No," Takasugi shot back, a grin still on his mouth as he attacked him again, this time aiming to run the sword through something vital. Would it be the heart or the stomach?

If Gintoki gave up the sword then Takasugi would show him the consequences of his action. He could try and leave the battlefield, but it would always follow him anywhere. He'd make sure of that.

The silver-haired samurai skirted away just enough to avoid a critical hit, but took the sword in his side, using the small opening to stab his own sharpened bokutou at Takasugi's midsection, his left hand grasping the hilt of the other's sword, clamping over his hand, drenching it in the blood from the multiple slashes in his palm.

He wasn't sure whose blood it was by then, but someone's blood splattered up his front, staining his yukata and scarf, his face, and some even mottling the front fringe of hair.

Pain exploded from his middle, causing Takasugi to double over again, the tip of the sword driving into him hard enough it broke skin. He found it difficult to keep his grip on his own sword as his body grew numb for a few brief seconds, unable to move.

"Gin…toki," he rasped out, his eye locking upwards with Gintoki's, still managing to look absolutely amused, a shaky laugh tumbling out as tried to drive the tip of his sword deeper into Gintoki, uncaring if his own blood dripped out faster and the wooden sword sunk in more.

Gintoki cringed, a low groan in the back of his throat the only hints of discomfort he gave. He could feel the blood that splattered his face dripping down slowly, ever so slowly-- probably already half-congealed in the cold.

The move made him stumble a bit, wooden sword pushing further into Takasugi, knocking him back further as Gintoki fell on top of him, his free hand pinning Takasugi down by the shoulder. "Let's be clear about something, Shinsuke. I don't want to hurt you. I still consider you a comrade from long ago. You still mean a lot to me. But if you're threatening everyone precious to me-- everyone that used to be precious to you, too-- so help me, I will. fight you. And end you. I have it in me, as much as I hate to admit it."

The concrete was cold against his back, and Takasugi struggled to dislodge the idiot from him, anger finally showing on his face. He would kill him. He refused to be domesticated like this man before him. He would never follow the same path, and it still irritated him that Gintoki harbored any thoughts about their past, about what they had been.

Anyone who didn't follow his ideals was an enemy, and he would prove this to Gintoki.

Freeing one arm, he grabbed the back of Gintoki's neck, fingers digging into his sweaty skin as he forced him closer, hissing into his face. "Gintoki, I'd rather have you try to end me then still associate with me. I'll never forgive you for what you've done. Not just to me but to the one who taught you how to use a sword. I'll sooner bathe in your blood than ever accept rotten trash like you."

The fingers at the nape of Gintoki's neck were cold-- it was almost hard to believe. But he smirked, a heady sort of arrogance about him. The Shiroyasha, tucked away in a small corner of his mind, was getting a small whiff of Takasugi. Almost like a feral animal. Yes, that's what he was reminded of as Takasugi struggled underneath him. Something like a feral animal. But he hadn't lost his fangs-- and neither had Gintoki. There was a white beast somewhere inside him, and he was almost afraid to nurture it. This was as casual a brush as any, and he was barely surviving it as-is. If he really, truly wanted to defeat the man beneath him...

Well, it takes a beast to defeat a beast, doesn't it?

Gintoki pulled the bokutou from Takasugi's midsection and twisted his foot, a sickening crack dulled by the clumps of snow everywhere. The sound of the bone cracking reached the beast inside of him, which seemed to drink the noise in hungrily. The squirming body beneath him was turning him on-- but why? Gintoki was disgusted with Takasugi, but something about him right now, broken and bleeding underneath him, was leaving a desirable feeling in his stomach, slowly curling its way down.

A fresh new wave of pain sang through Takasugi, his stomach turning at the sound of bones cracking, and his eye widened. His fingers clenched around Gintoki's yukata, needing to grab onto something, teeth grinding together through the hurt that exploded, knowing he wouldn't be able to walk on it for a while.

"Gintoki," he grit out before twisting his body to the side, making a move to grab his sword again and remove the idiot's head.

It wasn't just a matter of winning or losing. He was starting to see the Shiroyasha come out more and more, something that affected his body strangely the more that hateful gaze stared down at him. "I'll tear you apart," he promised, fingers grazing the hilt of his sword."

Gintoki pushed the sword farther away, out of Takasugi's grasp, and gave a feral grin. "I'd like to see you try. Or maybe you'd like to try wielding a wooden sword." The samurai's free hand wandered, though, slipping under Shinsuke's yukata to run his fingertips down his chest, circling the wound and smearing the blood, which he eventually brought up to flick his tongue over. "Disconcerting, isn't it? To have another man taste your blood, for a change. Though I don't particularly care for it. Too bitter."

Takasugi froze for a few seconds, though it was certainly not the first time the other man had taken him by surprise. He'd assumed that part of him had died long ago, but now it was resurfacing, drawing him in like he had once before. He still remembered fighting next to the Shiroyasha, the blood shared between them when their swords sank into a common enemy, and even if he said he didn't consider them comrades, the past was always there begging to be revisited.

Reaching out to grab a chunk of Gintoki's hair, he pulled him downwards, squishing their mouths together roughly to catch the remnants of his own blood on Gintoki's tongue.

Gintoki groaned, his hand coming up to bury his fingers in the silky hair at the nape of Takasugi's neck, grinding his hips into the man below him and kissing him back deeply. This was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong. His mind repeated the mantra over and over, but still his tongue danced, his fingers stroked Shinsuke's neck, his hips ground lazily along Taka's thigh. It was all very, very wrong. But he couldn't seem to pull himself away.

His hands wandered again, sneaking down along a pale, cool chest-- almost eerily cold, but it was cold out-- fingers grasping Takasugi's length. Though vaguely disturbing, it seemed some things never changed.

Takasugi's hands moved down from his hair, scraping nails along the sides of his neck and pressing in on his flesh, biting at his mouth and sucking his tongue deeper inside, teeth dragging against it as well. He couldn't feel the cold outside nor the snow soaking through his yukata. It was the price he'd paid with his own death, most sensations dulled but this- this made him feel alive, a thrill spreading through him as he felt more of the Shiroyasha bearing down on him.

Slipping a leg around, he ground back against his body, imagining the heat that should be there. He could feel the touch, at least, Gintoki's erection dragging across his thigh and making him raise his hips to press closer to it.

"I thought this part of you had died," he murmured against his mouth before laughing harshly.

"What part would that be?" Gintoki muffled a moan in a crushing kiss, his fingers teasing Takasugi's cock, thumb rubbing over the head as his fingertips curled around the length and began to pump. He moved to suck on the other man's neck, looking pleased with the mark it left. He kissed a rough trail down Shinsuke's neck and across his collarbone, hand working between them.

Hadn't they done things like this back during the war? He could barely remember, but everything seemed so familiar. The memories seemed to hover just out of his reach, but he wouldn't be surprised if they'd all done some things under the covers back then. They were living on the brink of death every day-- and they had all just been teenagers. Raging hormones and the like. But what was his excuse now?

This was definitely familiar, a feeling Takasugi never thought he'd associate with Gintoki or any of them again, but now it was there, flashing in front of his eyes, making him writhe and drag his fingers down until he was popping open Gintoki's pants with frantic movements, hand worming its way inside to return the favor.

His neck stretched out to catch Gintoki's mouth again, another vicious bite bestowed on his bottom lip before whispering, "You're no better than I am. Admit it."

He emphasized the statement with a harsh stroke against the heated flesh in his palm, starting to forget the pain in his gut and his foot, even though the blood was smearing messily between them.

Gintoki thrusted into the hand, already hard, the sweet, coppery taste of his own blood pervading his mouth. He licked his lips and smirked before answering, "I wonder if you're referring to the foreplay or containing beasts."

He dipped a finger in the blood running from the stab wound in Takasugi's stomach and snaked his hand back down between his legs, shoving a finger in none-too-gently, beginning to pump it in and out, kissing the man below him again, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

But why was he so damn cold?

The fingers pushing in made him jerk, Takasugi's grip suddenly tightening on Gintoki's cock, surprised again –or rather, elated…elated that the Shiroyasha was playing with him. His head fell back as he laughed hysterically, not even fighting it because this was the twisted beast from the war, the one who left the battle field covered in the blood of the Amanto, and it was amusing to see him creeping out in the most unusual of circumstances.

"You're sick," Takasugi continued to taunt with a smile, teeth flashing as he dipped his head and bit down on Gintoki's neck, teeth grinding against his skin. "Do you plan on killing me afterwards? Because I'll still hurt them just to tear that smile from your face."

"I won't kill you. It wouldn't do any good here, or so I've heard. But you will never lay a finger on them. That I can promise you." He slipped a second finger in as he laughed, his other hand going to grab the hair at the nape of Takasugi's neck and pull his head back at an awkward angle, kissing his adam's apple and suckling the skin.

Getting tired of the foreplay, Gintoki finally pulled his fingers free and moved Shinsuke's leg up by the knee, his other hand coming down to guide the tip of his erection into the other man's ass. He thrust in shakily, fully sheathing himself, the combined efforts of the bad weather and his wounded body telling him the play date was to be short.

The sudden intrusion made Takasugi choke on his laughter, pain lancing up his back which he felt too acutely with every shift, and even having tasted his own death couldn't dull the sensation of having the Shiroyasha moving inside of him. He hated it and hated Gintoki, but that was a given. It solidified his promise to kill this man now that he knew a challenge still lay within him, a strength he wanted to destroy. His interest had been piqued again.

Resting fingers back in Gintoki's hair, Takasugi tugged him away from his neck to stare at his face, looking at those angry eyes, delighting in the way Gintoki probably would never hate in the same way. No, Takasugi hadn't been the one to betray them all. "I hope you come and stop me again," he rasped out suddenly, voice cracking as he stole whatever pleasure he could from this, "so I can kill you in front of them."

The silver-haired samurai thrust into the man below him with a growing speed, his arms shaking faintly. "You don't understand the will.. that is born from people needing you... I won't die until that need is fulfilled-- I have people... I need to protect. Precious friends from long ago, as well as newer ones I've met in the City... You had your fun with Zura and Tatsuma-- no more..." His words were airy, panted out-- but why the hell was he still so cold?! The inside was barely even lukewarm.

"Why are you so damn cold?" Gintoki pulled on the leg in hand, trying to flip Takasugi onto his side so he could straddle the other leg and grind into him.

The jostling aggravated his wounds, spreading them open wider, more blood spilling between them, and Takasugi dug his fingers into the wound near Gintoki's shoulder, another laugh tumbling out as clenched hard around him. His stomach coiled tightly in on itself as the pressure increased from the sudden change in position.

"I died," Takasugi finally answered, a low groan tumbling in between his words, "…commit seppuku… so I could be…strong enough …to fight you."

Gintoki barked a laugh, grinding along Taka's leg as he thrust in and out, his pants faintly tinged with moaning as Takasugi moved around, the sensation something else. "You're kidding, right? ..That doesn't even... make any sense... whatsoever..."

He could feel himself getting close, his cock throbbing even as he worked it in and out of the tight opening, his other hand pumping Takasugi's length. As Takasugi's fingers dug into the shoulder wound, the samurai's fingernails dug into the erection in his hand, breaking the sensitive skin and drawing droplets of blood. His other hand slid and he shoved his thumb in the half-congealed stab wound in Shinsuke's midsection, returning the favor. "So you mean I'm fucking a corpse right now? Why's your blood still running-- your breath still warm, your body still responding to me?"

Nothing in this god-forsaken place made any sense.

Takasugi's body drew tight, a hitched breath being torn from his throat, pain searing through the most sensitive areas. He thrust his fingers in deeper into his wound, digging into layers and layers of skin, confident he could reach his bone, trying to return the pain, but he'd gone momentarily numb.

"Shit," he gasped against his skin, his eye growing wet as the blood dribbled down his cock. Yet, he couldn't help the wave of pleasure that shocked him immediately afterwards, the sudden release tinged with the agonizing burn from his lower regions that made him shake visibly as he stained Gintoki's hand and abdomen. His mouth latched onto Gintoki's shoulder to keep from crying out, teeth branding his skin, leaving the same set of marks his own body had been polluted with.

Gintoki groaned loudly, a painful pitch buried in the baritone voice as he cringed and shrunk away from the invading fingers, pain flaring from his shoulder and all through his body. But something about it-- and Takasugi biting him, the way his body tightened in his arms, all around him, he shuddered violently and thrust one last time, the built-up tension in his crotch releasing inside of Shinsuke, and the silver-haired freelancer slumped over for a few moments, panting.

Takasugi's arms fell to the ground, fingers still coated with blood. His body ached everywhere, a pain he thought he'd never be able to feel since he'd killed himself. It was strange, and the sudden exhaustion washed over him, making him completely unable to move even with his enemy lying on top of him. His eye slid shut, listening to Gintoki's breathing, mind traveling briefly to the war and stolen moments here and there.

Maybe this was a last indulgence before delivering the final blow. He'd vowed to remove the trash from this world and that included his former comrades who had run away. The Shiroyasha would be carved out of this world along with Zura and the other fool, but first, he needed to recover again.

"Gintoki," he murmured without opening his eye, "don't think I've changed."

"I know it's far too late for all that crap. But it'd be nice, nonetheless." When he finally pulled out, he shoved himself back in his pants and stumbled to his feet, going to pick up the abandoned sword he'd knocked away, breath still coming in faint gasps, turning to frosty clouds in the cold. He barely even spared a glance back at his enemy laying in the snow, the blood pooled around him, and down at his own clothes, soaked through with half-dry blood. The blade was sheathed with a metallic click, and he put a hand up as he walked away, limping. "It was fun and all. I'll call ya when the apartment's ready for company, but that'll be a while."

The samurai couldn't even fathom what just happened in the last twenty minutes. The only thing his mind was set on now was getting the hell away from there, getting home, and hoping he didn't breathe his last breath, hauling his battered and bleeding body up four flights of stairs. Tatsuma and Ayame would take care of him. Koutarou could go get Megumi or something. He'd be all right. Tis but a flesh wound.