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

"Not a bad idea." As Sora walks forward, the slack in the whip lets it fall and Kaito brings it back in, not seeing to have a probem with Sora's approach, but calculating just the same. "But coming willingly won't save you any pain~" Kait's arm flashes out again, and this time the whip snaps against Sora's neck, then coils around it. For now, Kaito leaves it tight enough to restrict breathing a bit, but not cut it off completely.

His breath hitches and one hand twitches slightly in an abortive move to reach up to grab the length of whip now leasing him to Kaito. But instead, he just loops his thumbs in his belt loops and stands there, apparently either too insane or too retarded (or, most likely, both) to actually be afraid. There's still a small adrenaline rush, though, and he can feel the slight increase in heart rate, in his breathing, as he sure as he feels the whip around his throat.

"Always figured you weren't just usin' this thing on the job."

Since Sora is done walking, Kaito closes the next few steps, winding the slack of the whip up into his hand. He stops when they are apart. "A good possession has multiple uses." Kaito gives no sense of being on guard, and every impression that more than just the whip are currently in his possession. He looks sharply interested in a way that doesn't really seem entirely sexual, or particularly apart from the way he looks when raiding a parts war. "

"Well, hey, who knew that we agreed on so much?" Sora responds, eyes lit with the anticipation of an exciting battle and breathing still quickened, but otherwise not giving Kaito any reaction.

"Who the fuck agreed to anything?" Kaito says it almost as a murmur, an afterthought. In one smooth motion he drops half of the coils from his hand, giving himself some slack, and lifts his foot over the length of whip between them and stepping down hard. The weight of Kaito's foot pulls Sora's leash lower to the ground, giving Sora the option of getting on his knees or having the collar tighten to lifethreatening point. "Leave your preconceptions wherever the hell you forgot your sanity."

Much of what Sora has gotten in life has been gained through figuring out what other people want and giving it to them -- it's amazing how easy that can make some people to work with. If by "work with" we also mean "use absolutely mercilessly."

He saw where things were going the moment that Kaito raised his foot but waits until the yank comes from the ground and the whip just begins to bite into his neck before taking a knee, with every external indication of contained surprise. The left knee of his jeans tears a little as it's caught hard, dragged a little, between metal and the floor.

"Man, it's pretty funny hearin' you talkin' about sanity."

With Sora apparently where Kaito wants him, Kaito takes the time to pull another cigarette out of the folds of his coat and place it between his lips. It was too damn bad he didn't have his handcuffs with him today, not that they would offer much in the way of security.

With one foot still holding the whip to the floor, Kaito uses the handle to push Sora's chin up. "Says the bastard that chooses to play this game."

"Well, now we're just goin' in circles, man."

The push was met with a little initial resistance, but he doesn't appear to be very concerned as he looks up at Kaito. In fact, if anything, he appears to have slightly relaxed.

"You think?" If something about what Sora said irritates Kaito, he doesn't show it in his expression at all, but the handle of the whip slides up and cracks across Sora's cheek. With his other hand, Kaito flicks on his lighter and takes a slow draw on his cigarette. "How long has it been?"

That finally brings one of Sora's hands up to rub his face, as he puts on a rather petulant expression.

"How long's what been?"

"Since you got laid." Kaito glances down at the floor around them, looking for debris and finding this area, at least, was clean of glass and nails. It was all scattered around the walls. He steps out of his shoes and kicks them off the side. "I figure, what makes a supposedly straight fucker like you so desperate he asks for this?" Letting one shoulder hang, Kaito lets the trenchcoat slide off his arm, after carefully slipping his lighter into his pants pocket. Then he switches the handle of the whip over to his other hand and removes the coat entirely, tossing it back on the bed.

Free of the hindrences of his coat, Kaito bend over until his face is only a few inches above Sora, almost seeming to examine him. "So you've had those legs how long now? And no one to share it with but the doppleganger."

"Not as long as you're thinkin', but too long since I been here. An' no need to be botherin' with no 'supposedlies'. Ain't got no problems in that area." He chuckles.

Arms resting casually on his raised knee, he'd watched Kaito's business with his coat carefully but without a great deal of interest. He looks straight at Kaito, however, a grin beginning to break out again as the police officer leans down. "One person can be plenty."

Though he couldn't really say the trash fucker's answer surprises him, Kaito still doesn't manage to keep the disgusted look from his face. He'd done plenty of inappropriate things in bed, but his own brother was never going to be one of them. And imagining two Takeuchi Soras going at it was almost worse than actually doing this one. Kaito winds his long fingers around around the whip where it just hangs down from Sora's collar and jerks hard, tightening it enough to cut off his air flow. "Grossing me out is definitely against the rules."

He gasps -- or whatever it is when your reaction is to gasp but there's just no air coming, the beginning of something that's characterized not so much by what it was going to be but by the brutality with which it was cut off -- as the whip pulls tight around his throat, fingers digging into his own pants legs to prevent any reflexive flailing. 'Guess I was hittin' a sore spot there! Sorry, man!' or 'Chill out, man, or somebody'll think you got somethin' on your mind' or 'Play nice, Kaito, 'cuz the only rules you got here are the ones I'm lettin' you have' are things that Sora might have said, were he able to speak. That clearly not being possible, what with him not being able to even breathe, he settles for a thumbs-up of the 'gotcha, boss' variety.

Edited 2008-01-23 20:13 (UTC)

Kaito watches the reaction for a moment, Sora's 'surprise', the masked... something, irritation, probably, the final cheeky result. It wasn't exactly the sort of entertainment Kaito was generally interested in, but since he didn't have much choice of avoiding it, he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see how many buttons he could find. Letting the cigarette hang limply from his lips, Kaito exhales a slow lungful of smoke somewhere over Sora's head before shifting his attention back down to the other. The hand holding the 'leash' releases it, presses the back of one finger against Sora's neck, and slides up. Curling the finger under the collar, Kaito has the option of pulling it away from the windpipe just enough to allow air. Which, for now, he doesn't bother to do. "So, Takeuchi Sora. How close have you ever been to death?"

Going without air for a short period of time isn't difficult. He is a king, after all, and to say that you don't get to be a king by being a slacker is the understatement of the year. But his mind goes into sharp focus and he's acutely aware of the seconds ticking away, of approaching that point where the loss of thought and strength just begin, and of how he'll fucking break Kaito's wrist and then loosen the damn thing himself when that point arrives.

In the meanwhile, though, he just puts on a slightly considering expression, then shrugs, as though saying, '...well, it happens, what can ya do?' The changing tint of his face aside, the only outward indication he gives of any sort of physical struggle is the grip of his hands on the material of his pants legs, which is gradually becoming more and more white-knuckled.

"This time," Kaito lifts his left hand up to remove his cigarette, and with his other drags Sora forward and up. "Will probably be different."

Pulling Sora up by the collar gives him that promised bit of air, still not enough to really qualify as breathing easy, but far more than nothing. Which makes it too bad it doesn't last, because little more than a second after giving Sora the chance to get some air, Kaito drags up the rest of the way to kiss him.

He inhales sharply, air rushing into his burning lungs not nearly fast enough in his body's opinion, as Kaito gives that pull. He hadn't expected to be given long -- but the kiss, that was a surprise. As he's yanked into it, his hands come up to slide around Kaito's waist as an anchor. And even with a whip tied around his neck, he retains the feel of someone accustomed to easy control... though that's another thing that he knows better than to expect.

Touching Kaito seems to also be against the rules, judging by the way that without diverting his attention from the kiss at all, Kaito jams and then twists the handle of his whip into the muscle that spans between forefinger and thumb. And as if in constrast to that offhand abuse, Kaito shows, at least for now, that he can kiss normally. Teeth, but nothing sharp enough to draw blood, pressure that felt like possession, but not a threat. His tongue runs along the warm insides of Sora's mouth almost as if it was something he actually wanted to be here doing.

His face twitches into some combination of a smirk and a grimace -- somehow, he'd been suspecting that to be one of Kaito's "rules." He yanks his one hand away, shaking it to try to relieve some of the stinging soreness. The other hand, though, he keeps where it is as he continues to kiss Kaito back, the fact that he isn't having his mouth fucking torn open yet being a pleasant surprise. He doesn't push anything with it, letting Kaito set the upper level of force for now, as his tongue occasionally brushes against the other man's, his entire approach almost playful.

While Kaito kisses Sora, he controls the flow of the other's air, pulling at or releasing the collar just enough to give the windpipe some room. Seeming to be experienced in how much can be held before the lungs are pushed too far. He parts the kiss at small intervals to give Sora the chance to make use of it. And between these tiny breaks, the kiss accelerates.

It's not passionate, either in hunger or in rage. And while perhaps teeth scrape a little harsher, there's nothing akin to Kaito's usual level of vicious cutting. It's a calculated ascension, aimed to feel good, tempt, please, and pull Sora further into it.

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.

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