inheritthewind | [AU -- *spoilers*] Sora/Kaito

Even though he's not being left completely without air, the constant give and take has Sora drifting ever closer to light-headedness, which isn't altogether unpleasant -- though you can be sure that Sora does take good advantage of every chance to breathe that he gets. Had Kaito not been pushing things, Sora might have done so himself, the acceleration only feeling natural as the breathlessness increases.

And further into it Sora goes, eyes wide open (figuratively speaking, that is). The simple pleasures have always been an enjoyable pastime but never an ultimate goal and, thus, have always been just as disposable as everything else, in the end. Though he begins to lean a little closer and seem to be willingly going wherever Kaito is taking it, it's not so much falling into Kaito's pace as watching closely and carefully matching it.

It stretches out like that, making out in a way that was almost disturbingly calm for them. No blood, no lashings, no biting words or anything else. Kaito works the kiss deeper, perfectly aware of just how it was with Sora's oxygen constantly running on low, and gradually dwindling still more. When Kaito begins to feel his dying cigarette warming the backs of his knuckles, he casually causes the butt away and yanks on the leash around Sora's neck, cutting off his air completely, and breaks the kiss.

There's a pause, and Kaito meets Sora's eyes, then flick over his face and down. Gauging. One finger is still trapped beneath the collar, against Sora's skin, and was beginning to turn a pale blue, but Kaito ignores it and presses the thumb of that hand against the base of Sora's windpipe. Just a touch, the whip was already doing the work. Shifting, Kaito leans over to position his mouth near Sora's ear.

"Now, wait." His voice is soft and controlled and faintly interested. "If you think you can, Wind King."

If Kaito was hoping to see anything in Sora's eyes, he was out of luck. Closing off Sora's airway this time seems to have closed off his expression as well.

And it is different this time, with Sora having already been lightheaded for a while, the contrast in his consciousness growing between the increasing majority of things blurring into a fuzzy static and the few items remaining focused in almost painfully sharp relief. The threads of maintaining control, of not giving anything away unless he doesn't need it are still bright, with the touch of Kaito's thumb on his throat and the feel, more than the sound, of the voice so close to him cutting through as well. His body's ache to release its growing build-up of carbon dioxide is relatively soft at this point, but gaining volume, like the pounding of his blood in his head as his heart rate accelerates even more.

There's a certain paradox to waiting -- it's done for a separate final purpose and yet, if he were pressed, he'd have to admit to himself that it had its own sort of deliciousness. Largely, of course, due to the knowledge that the end would, in fact, come, and that when it did... that would be something to savor. And that shades his face with a faint smile.

So, for now, he waits.

Through the thumb against Sora's neck, Kaito fan feel the other's pulse, classically steady, no fear increasing the heart rate and running down what oxygen was left in the blood too fast. Beyond the finger and thumb, and Kaito's breath as he watches Sora's expression from the corner his vision, he doesn't bother with any contact. This wasn't submission or domination, not even really fucking yet, just a dare, and he was curious to see how far that would go. Fuck, the bastard might even enjoy himself, not that Kaito was interested in having anything in common with Takeuchi Sora.

He tugs lightly against the whip, not freeing up any air so much as posing a reminder that was there, and waits to see if the body wants to fight back.

The initial adrenaline rush has, in fact, faded, and left him calmer than he's been in a while. Because sometimes, everything is so simple -- just the immediate here and now, where the only care in the world is winning.

At the pull, he casts a casual look at Kaito's hand, acknowledging it in a good humored but patronizing fashion. The discomfort in his lungs is growing worse and the light-headedness has begun buzzing slightly louder, but at this point, it's nothing that he can't stand.

If Kaito minds the patronization, he doesn't show it. Just slips his forefinger out from under the collar and tugs the whip a bit to maintain the tightness. "Seeing spots yet?" The room was very quiet, with only one of them breathing. He straightens, casually lifting the ball cap from Sora's head as he does so. Not because it hid the man's expression when Kaito was standing, but it was ugly and starting to annoy him. He tosses it behind them on the bed without a second thought. "If it still hurts, you're not far enough."

He wants to ask Kaito who made him the king of deciding what was far enough, but, as before, this is one of the few instances ever that Takeuchi Sora has effectively been forced to shut-up. Instead, he settles for glancing over to his hat, shooting Kaito a dirty look of irritation in the process. Next time Kaito decides to mess with his clothes, he decides, the game is off and he's smacking the bastard.

In the meantime, the edges of effort just begin to show, as Sora has to stop his body from trying to take a breath that he knows won't be possible. And in his head, the steady pound of his blood flowing grows louder. The point at which he'd been planning on ending things might have been around here, he vaguely thinks. But pushing boundaries has always been a huge temptation for him.

In a way, Kaito is equal parts aware there is no reason he should be truly in control here, and disinterested in the fact. One thing the arrogant punks that made up so much Storm Rider trash never understood was that there were more forms of control than simply direct power. Strength, fear, loyalty, even a basic personality flaw made from too much confidence and too little stimuli could be a hold. Takeuchi Sora was tricker than some simply due to his overwhelming strength, and what might happen if the leash snapped. But the process of getting it around his neck was nothing new.

Kaito turns around, whip curled loosely in his hand, and goes to sit on the bed. He crosses his legs and watches. Wondering calmly if there was any chance at all the bastard would stubbornly push himself toward unconsciousness, and decides that's an impossible wish. He toys momentarily with the end of of the whip he holds, as if not sure what to do with it. Then, slowly, begins to reel it in.

It's a little surprising and definitely amusing to see that Kaito would turn his back to him, if only for a few moments. Particularly given the way that time was passing and how the other man had to know that there was only so much that he was going to take here. Then again, Kaito was always pretty damn brazen -- it was what kept him interesting.

The surprise is a small distraction, at least, from the increasing pain and the growing effort needed to keep control with the dwindling amount of oxygen. There weren't too many times in Sora's life that he had been pushed to feeling a burn like this, the kind that comes from running more than your hardest, feeling yourself being pushed to your limit and watching it not be enough...

He watches Kaito with an almost contemplative expression until the other man pulls on the leash. And, after carefully making sure that everything would be staying steady, he takes a step forward with his raised leg, then grabs onto the length of leash in front of him and stands up. Holding the length of whip -- not pulling, just guaranteeing that he has enough slack to remain standing -- he walks over to Kaito, then drops it, letting both hands dangle by his sides, clenched ever so slightyl.

Edited 2008-01-30 04:48 (UTC)

It's not exactly an effort too keep a smile off his face, but Kaito almost wanted to. Roach on a leash, it was somehow fitting. And when Sora comes to stand over Kaito, clearly so close to an edge, it doesn't feel at all like he's the one trapped sitting on the bed.

Continuing to curl the whip up in his hands, Kaito follows the line all the way back up the collar, and runs his finger along it, nail just glancing Sora's skin. "Far enough?" He curls the finger into dig between skin and collar, getting himself a grip. "Need a break?" Eyes slitting, Kaito tugs at the collar. Not enough to unwind it, but enough to let air leak out of Sora's lungs.

He forces himself to relax enough to not react to the pressure of Kaito's finger, something that normally wouldn't faze him, but right now... He just smiles tightly at Kaito, impatience tugging at him, the small amount of release being almost more painful than the swiftly-wearing waiting. At his side, his right hand fully unclenches itself.

The strain on Sora was finally beginning to show, little twitches in his composure that couldn't quite be covered up by will power alone. Funny how much you couldn't do without a little oxygen to run on. Kaito digs his finger in harder, knuckle pressing to Sora's skin, and pulls himself to his feet.

It's a tight fit, with Sora standing right before the bed, but the usual compulsion that would keep Kaito from standing anyway near so close to any Storm Rider without a grimace is automatically held down by other things. He smiles sharply, with no humor at all, and drags Sora around by the collar to shove him towards the bed.

Kaito's yank on the collar provides a little more breathing room -- hardly enough to mention, but when there's been nothing for so long, even that slightest bit of air is seized upon. It really is only enough to be a frustrating distraction, as his body reflexively tries to breathe more than it's able to. He's still able to keep his balance through Kaito's yank and shove, but it's irritatingly more of a challenge than it should be. Casting the other man an expression of swiftly dwindling patience, he kneels one knee on the bed.

Kaito notices the irritation, the way Sora wasn't hiding it as well, and categorizes it without a thought. There was no point in wondering what would happen if he missed and the leash snapped.

Jerking the collar again, Kaito tugs Sora toward him, until they're almost nose-to-nose, and grins in a way that shows his own edge. "You wanted this~" Then shoves hard, for the first time showing an effort, to force Sora down onto the bed. Kaito follows him in one smooth motion, so his finger never leaves the collar, and straddles Sora's hips.

The first thought that runs through Sora's mind as his back hits the bed and Kaito lands on top of him is 'This is sorta gay.' He shrugs it off, though, actually dealing with the current shift in the situation being more important than wondering why it felt like so many people he knew were so damn homosexual. The sudden change in position, coupled with the way that his mind had begun to blur at the edges, actually causes a little bit of surprising disorientation, but he recovers quickly. Looking up at Kaito, his expression is interested again, eyes cheerfully narrowed and a smile pulling at his lips. His hands fall, seemingly accidentally, against the other man's legs, and he drums the fingers of one hand against Kaito's thigh with affected impatience.

"It's too bad I don't have my cuffs." Kaito shifts, looking down at Sora with that particular sort of detached interest. "Leaving you like this would solve a lot of problems for me." But despite his words, the whip finally loosens. First just enough for a bit of air, then a bit more, then the entire coil is loosening as Kaito frees his windpipe completely. "But you were pretty good at taking orders, for an insect."

This time, it's the restoration of his ability to breathe that silences his reply, the flood of oxygen a hard hit that deals his train of thought a heavier blow than the previous slow deprivation had. He holds eye contact with Kaito, but, while he isn't overcome by the intense inrush of air, it's clear that he has to brace himself against it. After that first eager inhalation that he isn't quite able to control, his breathing is remarkably even -- though when he finally speaks, his voice is audibly breathless and more than a little rough.

"Hey, I like to be accommodatin' when I can."

When Sora replies, it activates a slight twitch in Kaito's right eyebrow, like simply avoiding Sora's voice was giving him the control he needed to deal with this. Up until that moment Kaito hadn't been quite sure what to do with the trash once they'd reached this far. He'd already begun to realize he just might not have the stomach to fuck a Storm Rider after all, no matter how much of a game they made it. But now a new idea comes to him and he tilts his head at Sora, wishes he was sucking on a cigarette, and begins to undo his own belt.

"Try and keep that up, then."

For all that a lot of his retardation is quite genuine, Sora is generally perceptive of his effect on the things around him. And it's not as though Kaito's rage is exactly hidden and secret. He pillows his left arm behind his head, his other arm flopping across his chest, as he watches Kaito, smirking slightly.

"I'll give it a shot, man. Can't guarantee nothin', of course, but ain't no harm in tryin'."

"Don't bank on old sayings, trash." The tick is there again, but it's the only real sign he's Sora's words leave any impression on him at all. His voice is cool. He slides his own belt out their loops, folding it up in his hand, and with his other reaches down to the hem of Sora's pants. The button and zip there are undone without preamble, and Kaito shifts his weight to his knees, lifting off the bed so he's no longer sitting on Sora.

"There's harm in everything. Roll over."

He sits up as much as he's able, propping himself up on one elbow, his legs pulling up a little to give him better leverage.

"What if I don't wanna?"

Kaito doesn't change his position, just waits. One thumb rubs absently over the braided snakeskin of his belt. "Quitting?"

"Like hell."

The answer comes quick, with the cheerful confidence of someone not in a position to lose anything. Once his brain actually catches up to his reflexive stubbornness, the consideration of how much he actually wants to be putting his back to the fucking crocodile gives him a bit of contemplative pause. It's not as though he doesn't know what he'll have behind him, he decides, and it's also not as though he couldn't take the fucker on with one hand tied behind his back -- not that he'll be volunteering that.

Besides, he wants to see what happens next.

So, giving Kaito a little shrug, he smoothly flips himself over onto his stomach, propping his chin up in one hand, his other arm tucked slightly underneath himself.

[AU -- spoilers] Sora/Kaito

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