More Western Mode fic!
Oct. 26th, 2010 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faded_laceYay! I had been originally intending to write more of Wanizuka and Avery (wtf at my hatred of Wanizuka somehow turning into him being part of my OTP from this show) but I lacked inspiration, so this happened. XD;;; Sorry for the shameless smut! But I could really see something like this happening and I wanted to expand my horizons! So, um, enjoy?
Title: Survive
Disclaimer: Western Mode belongs to *pnish*
Rating: NC-17! Not for the children.
Pairing: ♦/♠ - Cress/Harry (Ooyama Masashi/Sano Daiki)
Warnings: Explicit M/M sex! Outside of that, angst and maybe some language.
Author's Note: Cress isn't very good at expressing his feelings, so I feel like something like this might happen. More than anything, he really does care about Harry, I think. Set directly post-canon~ ♥
It's been a long day in every sense of the word. They've been up since ten preparing for what, at the time, they thought would be a noon show, a competition at most-- but that feels like days, years ago now, now that they've been to hell and back, all of them. And what do they have to show for it? Ten thousand dollars, yes, and Cress wouldn't hand that money back for the world, but he's been shot in the leg (even if it doesn't hurt so badly, really) and glued to a crate (even if it was a little bit amusing) and forced to look death in the eye more times than he'd care to count, all as a part of a fight that had nothing to do with him.
But more than any of those things, more than his leg and his pride, Cress can still barely wrap his mind around, in the past twelve hours, how likely it was that he might have lost the most important thing in the world to him. He's practically still irate at Harry for throwing himself into something so dangerous and so unnecessary over revenge for someone he barely knew, but more than the anger now, the realization, the understanding is creeping into his body through every pore of his skin, and as the four of them return tiredly to the hotel Ronnie has booked them for the night, the gravity of everything he has, of what he might have lost not with his own life but with Harry's is becoming more and more apparent in with every step he takes, every breath he breathes.
Because what would he be without Harry? When they've been together for seven years now, night and day, through good and bad times... what identity could he possibly have that was not affixed to Harry in some way? In the heat and the emotion of the moment, he hadn't thought it through thoroughly, but what could he possibly have done if he had lost Harry? What would be left for him in this world anymore with is best friend, his partner, his lover gone?
It's a horrifying thought that leaves his limbs feeling numb and his mind blank, but he just can't shake it, and by the time they make it to the hotel and to their respective rooms, it's overwhelming, like he needs to prove to himself that it's not the case, like he needs to prove to Harry that yes, it is a big deal, and no, Cress could not, under any circumstances, survive without Harry.
However, despite feeling the need to prove this, he hasn't really thought it through, and it seems his body acts of its own accord, because instead of saying something reasonable, instead, even, of crying or yelling or screaming, as soon as they're safely in their hotel room and the door is closed behind them, Cress is shoving Harry up against the wall, kissing him as if tomorrow will never come, because, hell, it might not have. Harry lets out a noise of surprise, but submits relatively easily, relaxing against Cress's body and putting his arms around Cress's neck and parting his lips for Cress's over-eager intrusion. It's not graceful, it's not elegant, but Cress is only too aware that he was close to never having this opportunity again, and the knowledge drives him forward with an urgency that he's never felt before.
Eventually, Harry breaks away with a gasp, but Cress doesn't pull back. He presses kisses to the corner of Harry's mouth, his jaw, his neck, any skin he can find, because it's Harry and here and now and alive, and Cress needs to keep proving it to himself, can't let another moment pass without being in contact with the man he almost lost forever.
"Cress--" Harry gasps out after a moment, but Cress cuts him off with another kiss, and thankfully, Harry doesn't protest. Still, Cress forces himself to pull back after a moment, only far enough to choke out in a breathy whisper against Harry's lips, "Don't ever do that to me again."
A look of worry washes across Harry's features, and he looks up into Cress's eyes. "Cress...?" he asks again, concern hot on his breath as it washes across Cress's face. But Cress shakes his head slightly and kisses Harry again, this time slower, longer, deeper, before responding, voice wet and thick, "I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you."
A smile slides over Harry's lips, one that Cress can't quite read; it's not humourless but it's not cheery either, but whatever it is, it's warm, and Harry's the one who pulls Cress a little closer and presses a tender kiss to his lips. It feels good to have Harry initiate, somehow it's proof that he really is still here, but Cress can't help but deepen the kiss almost immediately, driven on by an urgency that he doesn't fully understand but doesn't want to hold back.
When they break again, Harry chuckles softly before meeting Cress's eyes again, sliding his fingers into his hair and pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make love to me, Cress...?" he murmurs against Cress's skin, and it's an invitation that Cress simply can't resist.
He kisses Harry again, pressing him further up against the wall, but already his hands are making their way to the buttons of Harry's shirt with impatience, tugging at the fabric with almost enough force to pull the things off altogether. They can afford new clothing now, if they want, really, but Cress is careful anyway, pulling the shirt open roughly but in one piece before briefly indulging in sliding his hands over the smooth, pale expanse of Harry's chest. Harry mewls into his mouth at the attention, but Cress's impatience gets the best of him, and as he feels Harry's fingers tugging his scarf away and fumbling with the buttons of his collar, he's already tugging at the buckle of Harry's holster and his belt and wondering why, exactly, Harry wears so much clothing.
But it's a double edged sword, because even when Cress finally manages to rid Harry of everything but his pants, Cress himself is left almost fully clothed, and he's forced to turn his attentions away from Harry for a moment to pull away the layers of fabric in his way. Harry whines when he breaks the kiss, clinging to Cress's shoulders, and Cress can't help it, he can't be separated from Harry for too long, not after everything. After he manages to pull away his own shirt, he presses back in, kissing Harry briefly on the lips before moving down to his neck, his shoulder, his chest, nipping lightly at the skin and smirking slightly at the lingering red marks that prove that Harry is really here with him. Harry's bare skin against his own is a welcome sensation, and Cress can't help but roll his hips against Harry's earning himself a much more urgent groan from the smaller man beneath him. Still, Cress has to struggle out of his holsters and belt before, finally, he gets the satisfaction of peeling away those too-tight pants from Harry's skin.
Harry squirms and kicks to get them off, seemingly as impatient as Cress is, and, glad for the assistance, Cress hurriedly rids Harry of the last of his clothing. His own pants feel far too tight and restrictive, but he can't help but lean in for another kiss even as he struggles with the button and zipper. He wants Harry now, and he can't even be bothered to kick his pants all the way off before grinding their hips together again, and this time, it's his turn to break the kiss with a strangled moan at the feeling.
There's lubricant in one of their bags somewhere, but Cress is far too impatient to even consider it, instead coaxing Harry's lips apart to slide two of his fingers inside. Harry understands, and one his hands slides around Cress's wrist as he works his tongue over the digits in a way that makes Cress even more impatience than seemed possible. He can't wait any longer, and pulls away abruptly to slip an arm under one of Harry's knees and hitch his leg up before sliding one, two fingers inside of him.
Harry makes a face, but he's used to this, Cress knows, and he's as gentle as he can manage, forcing himself to be thorough. He's only barely added a third finger, however, when Harry chokes out a "hurry up--!" and how is Cress supposed to ignore that? And then slicking himself and hooking his other arm under Harry's other knee to brace him between Cress's own body and the wall seem to take forever, but finally, finally he's inside Harry, and he hesitates a moment, trembling, almost, in anticipation, but he can't go too fast, he tells himself, he can't. But "move!" Harry bids, and Cress doesn't need asking twice.
Harry is hot and tight and so very much here, so very much alive, and Cress can't help but slam into him without restraint, head pressed into the crook of Harry's neck, groans muffled into the skin of Harry's shoulder. It feels like too much, almost, but if the noises that are coming out of Harry are any indication, he's enjoying it just as much as Cress is. He can feel Harry's fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, and though it hurts, all that Cress can think is you're alive, thank god you're alive, and as his thrusts get faster, more urgent, as Harry's cries grow louder and higher in pitch, Cress isn't sure if he's just thinking it anymore or if he's actually saying it aloud, a mantra to convince himself that he really hasn't lost the person who matters more to him than anyone else in the world.
It's too much, too fast, too intense to last, though, and before too long, they're coming, both of them, Harry, then Cress, within seconds of one another. But before the exhaustion can set in, Cress shifts Harry in his arms and stumbles the few feet to deposit him on the bed, collapsing beside him and gathering him into his arms. Harry hums softly, contently against Cress's chest, and Cress pulls him closer still, not ready even still to let him go.
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry reminds him softly, laughter in his voice, and Cress nods but doesn't let him go. And he knows that, tomorrow, everything will go back to normal, and they'll catch their train out of town and go back to trying to make it big, and Harry will be cheerful and Avery and Wanizuka will bicker and Cress will complain, and they'll all have smiles on their faces as they get ready for their next show. But for now, and he feels Harry's heart beat, as he listens to the sound of his breathing, Cress can only think thank god, because I couldn't survive without you.
Title: Survive
Disclaimer: Western Mode belongs to *pnish*
Rating: NC-17! Not for the children.
Pairing: ♦/♠ - Cress/Harry (Ooyama Masashi/Sano Daiki)
Warnings: Explicit M/M sex! Outside of that, angst and maybe some language.
Author's Note: Cress isn't very good at expressing his feelings, so I feel like something like this might happen. More than anything, he really does care about Harry, I think. Set directly post-canon~ ♥
It's been a long day in every sense of the word. They've been up since ten preparing for what, at the time, they thought would be a noon show, a competition at most-- but that feels like days, years ago now, now that they've been to hell and back, all of them. And what do they have to show for it? Ten thousand dollars, yes, and Cress wouldn't hand that money back for the world, but he's been shot in the leg (even if it doesn't hurt so badly, really) and glued to a crate (even if it was a little bit amusing) and forced to look death in the eye more times than he'd care to count, all as a part of a fight that had nothing to do with him.
But more than any of those things, more than his leg and his pride, Cress can still barely wrap his mind around, in the past twelve hours, how likely it was that he might have lost the most important thing in the world to him. He's practically still irate at Harry for throwing himself into something so dangerous and so unnecessary over revenge for someone he barely knew, but more than the anger now, the realization, the understanding is creeping into his body through every pore of his skin, and as the four of them return tiredly to the hotel Ronnie has booked them for the night, the gravity of everything he has, of what he might have lost not with his own life but with Harry's is becoming more and more apparent in with every step he takes, every breath he breathes.
Because what would he be without Harry? When they've been together for seven years now, night and day, through good and bad times... what identity could he possibly have that was not affixed to Harry in some way? In the heat and the emotion of the moment, he hadn't thought it through thoroughly, but what could he possibly have done if he had lost Harry? What would be left for him in this world anymore with is best friend, his partner, his lover gone?
It's a horrifying thought that leaves his limbs feeling numb and his mind blank, but he just can't shake it, and by the time they make it to the hotel and to their respective rooms, it's overwhelming, like he needs to prove to himself that it's not the case, like he needs to prove to Harry that yes, it is a big deal, and no, Cress could not, under any circumstances, survive without Harry.
However, despite feeling the need to prove this, he hasn't really thought it through, and it seems his body acts of its own accord, because instead of saying something reasonable, instead, even, of crying or yelling or screaming, as soon as they're safely in their hotel room and the door is closed behind them, Cress is shoving Harry up against the wall, kissing him as if tomorrow will never come, because, hell, it might not have. Harry lets out a noise of surprise, but submits relatively easily, relaxing against Cress's body and putting his arms around Cress's neck and parting his lips for Cress's over-eager intrusion. It's not graceful, it's not elegant, but Cress is only too aware that he was close to never having this opportunity again, and the knowledge drives him forward with an urgency that he's never felt before.
Eventually, Harry breaks away with a gasp, but Cress doesn't pull back. He presses kisses to the corner of Harry's mouth, his jaw, his neck, any skin he can find, because it's Harry and here and now and alive, and Cress needs to keep proving it to himself, can't let another moment pass without being in contact with the man he almost lost forever.
"Cress--" Harry gasps out after a moment, but Cress cuts him off with another kiss, and thankfully, Harry doesn't protest. Still, Cress forces himself to pull back after a moment, only far enough to choke out in a breathy whisper against Harry's lips, "Don't ever do that to me again."
A look of worry washes across Harry's features, and he looks up into Cress's eyes. "Cress...?" he asks again, concern hot on his breath as it washes across Cress's face. But Cress shakes his head slightly and kisses Harry again, this time slower, longer, deeper, before responding, voice wet and thick, "I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you."
A smile slides over Harry's lips, one that Cress can't quite read; it's not humourless but it's not cheery either, but whatever it is, it's warm, and Harry's the one who pulls Cress a little closer and presses a tender kiss to his lips. It feels good to have Harry initiate, somehow it's proof that he really is still here, but Cress can't help but deepen the kiss almost immediately, driven on by an urgency that he doesn't fully understand but doesn't want to hold back.
When they break again, Harry chuckles softly before meeting Cress's eyes again, sliding his fingers into his hair and pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make love to me, Cress...?" he murmurs against Cress's skin, and it's an invitation that Cress simply can't resist.
He kisses Harry again, pressing him further up against the wall, but already his hands are making their way to the buttons of Harry's shirt with impatience, tugging at the fabric with almost enough force to pull the things off altogether. They can afford new clothing now, if they want, really, but Cress is careful anyway, pulling the shirt open roughly but in one piece before briefly indulging in sliding his hands over the smooth, pale expanse of Harry's chest. Harry mewls into his mouth at the attention, but Cress's impatience gets the best of him, and as he feels Harry's fingers tugging his scarf away and fumbling with the buttons of his collar, he's already tugging at the buckle of Harry's holster and his belt and wondering why, exactly, Harry wears so much clothing.
But it's a double edged sword, because even when Cress finally manages to rid Harry of everything but his pants, Cress himself is left almost fully clothed, and he's forced to turn his attentions away from Harry for a moment to pull away the layers of fabric in his way. Harry whines when he breaks the kiss, clinging to Cress's shoulders, and Cress can't help it, he can't be separated from Harry for too long, not after everything. After he manages to pull away his own shirt, he presses back in, kissing Harry briefly on the lips before moving down to his neck, his shoulder, his chest, nipping lightly at the skin and smirking slightly at the lingering red marks that prove that Harry is really here with him. Harry's bare skin against his own is a welcome sensation, and Cress can't help but roll his hips against Harry's earning himself a much more urgent groan from the smaller man beneath him. Still, Cress has to struggle out of his holsters and belt before, finally, he gets the satisfaction of peeling away those too-tight pants from Harry's skin.
Harry squirms and kicks to get them off, seemingly as impatient as Cress is, and, glad for the assistance, Cress hurriedly rids Harry of the last of his clothing. His own pants feel far too tight and restrictive, but he can't help but lean in for another kiss even as he struggles with the button and zipper. He wants Harry now, and he can't even be bothered to kick his pants all the way off before grinding their hips together again, and this time, it's his turn to break the kiss with a strangled moan at the feeling.
There's lubricant in one of their bags somewhere, but Cress is far too impatient to even consider it, instead coaxing Harry's lips apart to slide two of his fingers inside. Harry understands, and one his hands slides around Cress's wrist as he works his tongue over the digits in a way that makes Cress even more impatience than seemed possible. He can't wait any longer, and pulls away abruptly to slip an arm under one of Harry's knees and hitch his leg up before sliding one, two fingers inside of him.
Harry makes a face, but he's used to this, Cress knows, and he's as gentle as he can manage, forcing himself to be thorough. He's only barely added a third finger, however, when Harry chokes out a "hurry up--!" and how is Cress supposed to ignore that? And then slicking himself and hooking his other arm under Harry's other knee to brace him between Cress's own body and the wall seem to take forever, but finally, finally he's inside Harry, and he hesitates a moment, trembling, almost, in anticipation, but he can't go too fast, he tells himself, he can't. But "move!" Harry bids, and Cress doesn't need asking twice.
Harry is hot and tight and so very much here, so very much alive, and Cress can't help but slam into him without restraint, head pressed into the crook of Harry's neck, groans muffled into the skin of Harry's shoulder. It feels like too much, almost, but if the noises that are coming out of Harry are any indication, he's enjoying it just as much as Cress is. He can feel Harry's fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, and though it hurts, all that Cress can think is you're alive, thank god you're alive, and as his thrusts get faster, more urgent, as Harry's cries grow louder and higher in pitch, Cress isn't sure if he's just thinking it anymore or if he's actually saying it aloud, a mantra to convince himself that he really hasn't lost the person who matters more to him than anyone else in the world.
It's too much, too fast, too intense to last, though, and before too long, they're coming, both of them, Harry, then Cress, within seconds of one another. But before the exhaustion can set in, Cress shifts Harry in his arms and stumbles the few feet to deposit him on the bed, collapsing beside him and gathering him into his arms. Harry hums softly, contently against Cress's chest, and Cress pulls him closer still, not ready even still to let him go.
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry reminds him softly, laughter in his voice, and Cress nods but doesn't let him go. And he knows that, tomorrow, everything will go back to normal, and they'll catch their train out of town and go back to trying to make it big, and Harry will be cheerful and Avery and Wanizuka will bicker and Cress will complain, and they'll all have smiles on their faces as they get ready for their next show. But for now, and he feels Harry's heart beat, as he listens to the sound of his breathing, Cress can only think thank god, because I couldn't survive without you.
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no subject
Date: 2010-10-27 07:31 am (UTC)Two thumbs up!!
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Date: 2010-10-27 07:46 am (UTC)Thanks! ♥
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Date: 2010-10-27 07:56 am (UTC)No prob! Thanks for posting this! <3
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Date: 2010-10-27 12:50 pm (UTC)