Title: Impossible Dreams

Author: Eleanor K.

Fandom: Blade of the Immortal

Pairing: Magatsu/Anotsu

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Magatsu watches Anotsu sleep and can't quite manage to keep his hands off him.

Archive: Yes to list archives. Everyone else, please ask first.

Email: emungere@yahoo.com

Web Page: http://emungere.animeglore.com/

Disclaimer: They belong to Hiroaki Samura, and I'm quite content with that.

Notes: Written as instasmut for Chrissy, who also betaed because she's the bestest.


Impossible Dreams
by Eleanor K.
..___..

Anotsu lies face down on the futon. His hand is buried in his own hair, clutching and releasing. His body twists with dreams. Magatsu touches his back and watches as his hand loosens, watches as he calms.

Magatsu goes back to sharpening his sword. His hands move by themselves. He should pay more attention, but if he did, he wouldn't be able to watch Anotsu. He needs to do that. He doesn't get the chance often.

So he draws his knees up and braces his sword between them, hands moving up and down in a steady rhythm. His eyes stay on Anotsu. On the line of his back, from his neck to the curve of his ass and down his legs. On his hair, black like coal dust scattered over gold. On one knee drawn up to reveal the secret shadows between his legs.

Automatic and unmonitored, his hands keep going. Sharpening, polishing, oiling, until everything is done that he can do. Until there is nothing left to do but watch. But with his sword put away and his hands unoccupied, it is hard not to touch.

He should let Anotsu sleep. He's been through enough nights with him to know that his sleep is a precious thing. Anotsu wakes in the early morning, fired with ideas that won't let him rest. He stalks his room like a cage and all but growls when Magatsu tells him to come back to bed.

So Anotsu should sleep, for his own good. Or not just for his own good. Magatsu doesn't think he's ever seen him asleep like this, so peaceful, with the sun on his skin. Makes him look like a statue cast in bronze, and then Magatsu has to touch him, just to make sure he's flesh and not metal. Just one hand, closed around his ankle.

Anotsu doesn't stir at the touch. Not a shift or a murmur in his sleep. Magatsu likes that. He runs his palm up Anotsu's calf. He can feel each muscle, defined and hard. If anyone else was touching him, if anyone else was in the room, Anotsu would be up and awake, sword in his hand. Instead, he lies still as Magatsu strokes up the back of his thigh.

Up still further to map the sweep of his spine, pausing at the back of his neck, feeling the heated skin under his hair. Back down again to rest at the base of his spine. Sweat gleams in the hollow there where the sun strikes it. If he keeps moving downwards, it will be over the swell and dip of Anotsu's ass. Down between his legs.

He should let Anotsu sleep.

The body under his hand stirs and turns. Anotsu rolls over to lie on his back. One arm is flung out to the side, the other drawn up above his head. The move has rid him of the last of the covers. His legs are spread wide, one foot hanging off the futon.

It's too much to resist. Hard muscle under soft, warm skin. Magatsu traces his ribs firmly, careful not to tickle. His thumb rubs circles over brown nipples, making them stiffen. Then, inevitably, downwards again. Flat stomach. Inner thighs warm and silky, the softest part of his body by far.

One finger brushes along the length of his cock. It can't hurt, just the one touch. The one touch turns into a lazy drifting up and down, drawing invisible lines with his fingertip. He is almost startled when Anotsu begins to harden.

That wasn't the plan. He had a plan? Well, no. He didn't. He glances at Anotsu's face. Eyes still closed, flicking back and forth under thin skin as they do in dreams. Magatsu wonders how far he can take this.

The thought bothers him. Anotsu should be awake if he's going to do this. Not that he'd say no. But he should have the choice. Magatsu still hasn't stopped touching him. Isn't going to stop touching him. Doesn't want to stop touching him.

He reaches for the jar of oil on the windowsill and coats his palm, using a little too much. He lets the excess drip off his fingers onto Anotsu's cock. He closes his hand around it.

It hardens visibly with that first solid touch and more with every slicked stroke. Anotsu's lips are slightly parted now, his cheeks flushed.

Magatsu watches his chest rise and fall more quickly, and even the flick of eyes under eyelids seems more rapid. Magatsu wonders if he can bring him off like this, still asleep, still dreaming. Wonders how far he can go, how much he can take. One hand on Anotsu's hip urges him onto his side, making room for Magatsu on the futon next to him. He stretches out full length, hand still moving, body curved now against Anotsu's. His own hard cock slipping in the cleft of Anotsu's ass.

He reaches for the oil again with his free hand and coats himself, just to ease the friction. The slickness spreads across Anotsu's skin, and it's impossible not to thrust just a little bit.

Just a little bit, even though he knows he shouldn't. Even though he knows that he's unlikely to get anything out of this, apart from the pleasure of touching Anotsu, and that's enough. He can take care of himself later. But it feels so good.

Short thrusts in time with his hand on Anotsu's cock. It's leaking now, and his thumb smoothes over the tip again and again, spreading liquid out and around and down, again until Anotsu's hips are bucking forward into the touch. Until he can hear roughened breath and tiny whimpers from deep in Anotsu's throat.

Until Anotsu turns his head toward him with eyes still tight shut and says, "Fuck me."

He freezes.

Anotsu's face tightens. "Damn you, don't stop. Don't stop."

But he can't move. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough." Anotsu finds his mouth unerringly, kisses him, eyes still closed. "Please fuck me," he murmurs. "Please. Don't say anything. Just keep going. Just...please."

Even if he wanted to say no, he couldn't, and he doesn't want to say no.

He coats the fingers of his free hand with oil and slides two into Anotsu's body. Anotsu gasps at the touch, but shakes his head.

"I don't need it. I just need you, now. Please."

Magatsu closes his eyes to steady himself. Anotsu doesn't talk like this. Doesn't say please. He gives orders, he shapes the world around himself. He doesn't ask. He takes.

"Please," again, so quiet Magatsu can almost believe he's imagining it.

He shifts down, takes himself in hand, pushes against Anotsu's entrance. Hears a soft groan as he pushes inside. He doesn't have to do anything else. Anotsu rocks back against him, forward into his hand, fucking himself steadily, wantonly, hand on Magatsu's hip to pull him deeper.

Deeper until Magatsu has to bite his lip to keep from coming, letting Anotsu use his body, gasping for air that seems suddenly too thin.

"Fuck me," Anotsu says again, pushing back hard onto his cock. "Harder."

So he takes Anotsu's hip and shoves into him, fighting for control, hearing choked moans and the slap of skin against skin as their bodies meet. Fucks him harder, Anotsu's head lolling back against his shoulder. He slides an arm under Anotsu's body to reach his cock again, closing a tight fist over it, pumping in time with his thrusts.

He can feel himself so close to coming, and he bites his lip again, buries his face in Anotsu's neck, trying to stave it off. He works Anotsu harder, eyes closed, so concentrated that all he feels is his hand on Anotsu's cock, Anotsu's body around him. Twice, three times more, and then liquid heat pours over his hand. He loses himself in Anotsu's soft, panting cries.

White-hot and blinding, his climax overtakes him, one last thrust, Anotsu held close against him, arms wrapped around him now, hips jerking uncontrollably through the aftershocks.

He pulls out afterwards, but doesn't move away. He lies very still, listening to their breath, rolls part way onto his back to ease the pressure on his arm, still holding Anotsu tight, unwilling even to think about letting go.

"Thank you," Anotsu says.

He kisses the back of Anotsu's neck and says nothing.

"I'm sorry," Anotsu says.

"What the fuck could you possibly be sorry for?" He didn't mean to say anything, but he can hardly keep quiet.

Anotsu turns in his arms. His eyes are open now, confused and a little lost. "I don't know what that was. I don't... You know me. I'm not like that."

"Yeah. I know you."

He pulls him closer until Anotsu's head rests on his chest.

"I know you."

Anotsu's body relaxes against his. He strokes up and down his back and pulls the covers up over them both. Anotsu's breath deepens and steadies within minutes.

Magatsu watches him sleep for the rest of the morning.


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..end..