Get Your Leg Off Me
folder
+S to Z › Samurai Champloo
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
6,128
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S to Z › Samurai Champloo
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
6,128
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Don't own SAMURAI CHAMPLOO OR ITS CHARACTERS; don't make money from WRITING FANFIC ABOUT IT.
Don't Even Think About It
Author's Note: Based on the prompt "Shake That Thing."
Don't Even Think About It
Fuu is drunk. Really, really drunk. She's standing on the table at the little sake bar, dancing like the geisha she so obviously is not. Barely showing ankle, let alone anything else. But someone's handed her a fan and she's working it for all she's worth: eyes glittering, mouth a smile of such innocence it's hard not to look away. But I can't. I've never seen her like this, and it brings out the desire—a practically visceral need—to protect her. Protect her from harm. Any harm. Ever.
And, of course, other things.
Mugen is as wild-eyed as she, mouth agape and drooling. It doesn't matter how many times he teases her for her flat-chestedness or her absurdly childlike tantrums. He's got it bad. Doesn't even matter that he fucks me on occasion. We've both got it bad for her incomparable innocence, determination, and love of life. It's impossible not to catch it when you're around her. Like a fever you want to be reinfected with, forever.
My cock's hard and I peer surreptitiously to see Mugen's is too. I can also see that he's thinking he's really gonna do it this time. I'm not. I've got that much brain in my pathetic skull, that much self-control. You don't taint the source of uncontaminated pleasure; you don't spit down the well. Well, I don't. Mugen does. I lean into him. "Don't even think about it," I mutter.
Fuu twirls and flutters that ridiculous paper fan. The bunch of louts around the room are clapping, and she's trying hard to dance to their rhythm. Failing, but trying. She shakes her slender hips and giggles, cheeks flushed.
She counts so entirely on our good will that we find some, somewhere, every time.
Mugen makes a sound of derision at my threat and rubs his crotch. He might really try it this time, I think. Though I've thought that before. "Mugen."
He sighs. "Okay okay. But…"
There's nothing more to say. We know the arrangement. And he's not a bad fuck, after all.
Don't Even Think About It
Fuu is drunk. Really, really drunk. She's standing on the table at the little sake bar, dancing like the geisha she so obviously is not. Barely showing ankle, let alone anything else. But someone's handed her a fan and she's working it for all she's worth: eyes glittering, mouth a smile of such innocence it's hard not to look away. But I can't. I've never seen her like this, and it brings out the desire—a practically visceral need—to protect her. Protect her from harm. Any harm. Ever.
And, of course, other things.
Mugen is as wild-eyed as she, mouth agape and drooling. It doesn't matter how many times he teases her for her flat-chestedness or her absurdly childlike tantrums. He's got it bad. Doesn't even matter that he fucks me on occasion. We've both got it bad for her incomparable innocence, determination, and love of life. It's impossible not to catch it when you're around her. Like a fever you want to be reinfected with, forever.
My cock's hard and I peer surreptitiously to see Mugen's is too. I can also see that he's thinking he's really gonna do it this time. I'm not. I've got that much brain in my pathetic skull, that much self-control. You don't taint the source of uncontaminated pleasure; you don't spit down the well. Well, I don't. Mugen does. I lean into him. "Don't even think about it," I mutter.
Fuu twirls and flutters that ridiculous paper fan. The bunch of louts around the room are clapping, and she's trying hard to dance to their rhythm. Failing, but trying. She shakes her slender hips and giggles, cheeks flushed.
She counts so entirely on our good will that we find some, somewhere, every time.
Mugen makes a sound of derision at my threat and rubs his crotch. He might really try it this time, I think. Though I've thought that before. "Mugen."
He sighs. "Okay okay. But…"
There's nothing more to say. We know the arrangement. And he's not a bad fuck, after all.