shiegra (shiegra) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-07-28 06:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: shiegra, f: baccano!, july 28, p: chane/graham |
steel, Baccano! (Chane/Graham)
Title: steel
Author: shiegra
Rating: R
Wordcount: 431
Prompt: Baccano! - Chane/Graham - fightsex - the desire to fight, that she could understand
Her steel screams off his. It’s familiar.
The balance of metal, and his ease on his feet—she comes for him again, heel-ball-toe, the rocking leap that carries her in close enough to bat away the heaviness of the wrench, seek with the blade for the softness between his ribs.
A heel behind hers, the hard smack of a hip—she restrains a hiss, wouldn’t make a sound even if she could. Falling, reckless, already gathering herself to spring up again. This is a madman who apparently has an obsession with Ladd Russo; of course he does not simply play by the rules of the weapon in his hands. Come to think of it, neither does she.
She can slap his wrench away, let it skim off her knife as she dives in for a clean bite between ribs but he isn’t that easy, twists and traps her arm, hauls, he could break her arm like this but she’s already palmed another knife and he won’t be able to deflect this one—
The kiss is hard and a little sloppy, his open mouth warm like blood, teeth cutting into her lower lip. He’s so fast, and for a minute she is left floundering, mouthing wordlessly and squirming away, and he fists a hand in her hair—not gentle at all, her fingers tight and bloodless around the hilt of the knife—and yanks her onto her toes to kiss her again.
She could eviscerate him now. She’s almost sure of it. He’s more than half expecting it, but if she moved fast enough—
This isn't the Rail Tracer's dangerous honey-dipped promises of love. This is more like something she's familiar with; like battle, like the snap and hiss of steel, his fingers digging into her hip and she's let him get far too close already, throws out a hand and braces herself clumsily against steel. A barrel, and then he yanked and she caught her balance in time for a bumper to smack into the small of her back.
He's almost laughing against her lips, gasping with giddy jubilance, and she shudders, twists her weight as callused hands press against her thigh under the white dress and the wrench presses in a violent caress against the other. The knife pricks the skin over his ribs but he doesn't even pause.
For the moment--for now, for right now and here--it's enough. She's breathing, and he is not tearing her careful barriers apart to shape her world--too bright and anew--only slipping the battle into a new dimension.
It's enough.