for dark kana
Jun. 20th, 2010 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaNiou liked analogies. Analogies were good, they were hazy, they were things that when you looked at you made a cognitive leap and thought of other things. That was good, because you could convince a lot of people one thing meant something else if the analogy was already tied into their subconscious. Like streams of light and acts of god, dark shadows and dangerous people, lumps in your coat pocket and a concealed weapon. Analogies were useful, as were metaphors and similes. Niou liked both, and he liked to make use of both.
Like right now, Fuji is kneeling down on the merry-go-round's dirty floor, the brown jacket under his knees looks like old dried blood under the moon light. Niou grips Fuji's hair tight and pumps his hips forward into sin, slick slippery hot sin, while Fuji's tongue does amazing things to the head of Niou's cock. The dirty broken down merry-go-round serves as a demented backdrop, a broken twisted child's dreamworld.
In the spy game you learn not to judge right off the bat, but you do learn to anticipate and make assumptions. Niou was the best infiltrator in the East, maybe the best in the world, and Fuji was his drop man, his contact. The first day they'd met it had been hotter than hell, and Fuji's Cheshire smile had left Niou hard in his pants.
'You're in the closet.' Fuji had said, sliding the case file over. 'That's the cover for our meetings.'
Niou had flipped through the job's information. It was standard intelligence work, he was pretending to be someone he wasn't, but he looked up at Fuji with a quirked eyebrow. 'I'm in the closet but I have a boyfriend?' Every lie must have a shred of truth. The truth was, Niou did have a boyfriend, the lie was...
'Focus on the job, Niou.' Fuji had left the table then, left the room, and walked out of Niou's life until Niou had to walk back into his with information. The time between had left Niou to wonder about Fuji's choice of cover. Maybe it hadn't been Fuji's choice.
Though with the way Fuji was swallowing him down, it didn't seem like he didn't enjoy it.
Like right now, Fuji is kneeling down on the merry-go-round's dirty floor, the brown jacket under his knees looks like old dried blood under the moon light. Niou grips Fuji's hair tight and pumps his hips forward into sin, slick slippery hot sin, while Fuji's tongue does amazing things to the head of Niou's cock. The dirty broken down merry-go-round serves as a demented backdrop, a broken twisted child's dreamworld.
In the spy game you learn not to judge right off the bat, but you do learn to anticipate and make assumptions. Niou was the best infiltrator in the East, maybe the best in the world, and Fuji was his drop man, his contact. The first day they'd met it had been hotter than hell, and Fuji's Cheshire smile had left Niou hard in his pants.
'You're in the closet.' Fuji had said, sliding the case file over. 'That's the cover for our meetings.'
Niou had flipped through the job's information. It was standard intelligence work, he was pretending to be someone he wasn't, but he looked up at Fuji with a quirked eyebrow. 'I'm in the closet but I have a boyfriend?' Every lie must have a shred of truth. The truth was, Niou did have a boyfriend, the lie was...
'Focus on the job, Niou.' Fuji had left the table then, left the room, and walked out of Niou's life until Niou had to walk back into his with information. The time between had left Niou to wonder about Fuji's choice of cover. Maybe it hadn't been Fuji's choice.
Though with the way Fuji was swallowing him down, it didn't seem like he didn't enjoy it.
