Crossover, Final Fantasy XII/Persona 3, Gabranth/Shinjiro, handcuffs and chocolate
Sooner or later, they get you. Shinjiro knows this, knew that when he started—kept—coming around, but it doesn’t make it any less weird to be in the bastard cop’s apartment.
Gabranth says to make himself comfortable, which usually means get naked, and he’s not doing that, not while the bastard cop’s still dressed, but he will take off his coat, take stock of the place. There's a candy dish on the coffee table, full of foil-wrapped chocolate squares. While Gabranth hangs his coat, he scoops up one of the candies so unconsciously—chocolate addict, then. Sweet tooth on a guy that big is kind of funny, but Shinji doesn’t smile. He watches, more impatient at the way the foil crumples metallic—the thin shadow of the handcuff chain’s rattle as the cop reaches for another, unwraps it, holds it out to Shinjiro.
“Not here for candy,” Shinjiro says. The bastard cop smirks, nods, and this close, he can smell the dark chocolate sweet. It smells good against the vague constant tang of gun oil.
“No, I don’t suppose you are.” Bastard cop smile. “What are you here for, then?”
He says it like, “Do you know how fast you were going?” or “Shouldn’t you be in school?”—the kind of question there’s no answer to but you have to say something. So answer, but not the way you’re supposed to.
Shinji reaches quick, grabs Gabranth’s wrist—so much more solid-feeling than his own—and lifts. He scrapes the piece of chocolate—slick and melting where it touches Gabranth’s hand—up with his teeth and licks. For a heartbeat, all he can think of is how long it’s been since he’s had chocolate, and knows, without a doubt, he’ll be back to what he was doing when he was eleven, lifting candy bars from the convenience store, and he can see that, getting hauled in for shoplifting, and the gleam of handcuffs on Gabranth’s belt is at the corner of his eye. He bites at another smear of chocolate, and Gabranth’s free hand catches his wrist, twists, and Shinjiro is face-first over the arm of the couch before he knows it, arms behind him, metal jangling somewhere.
The handcuffs squeeze cold on his wrists, sharp counterpoint to the heat of Gabranth’s hands. Gabranth shoves his t-shirt up, bares his back, and Shinji tries to move. There’s no reason for the asshole to see this much of him—doesn’t need to see his back to fuck him—but his arms don’t lift much at this angle, and Gabranth bites hot against the knots of his spine. His fingers, still smelling of chocolate, still slightly smeared, work into Shinji’s mouth, and the salt-sweet of it makes him suck, drag his teeth instead of bite down, and Gabranth’s undoing his belt, tugging down his jeans, but not far enough for fucking—his hand closes around Shinjiro’s cock, tight and sure. The weight of him presses against Shinji’s ass, but it’s still only fabric, and he wants more. He pushes back, and Gabranth’s fingers leave his mouth, leave him to curse into the upholstery that might actually even be real leather, and he turns his head, sees Gabranth unwrapping another chocolate. Shinji looks at him, bites down hard on the leather, and there are chocolate-smudged fingertips in his mouth again, forcing his head up. Something touches his back, vaguely sticky and then more slick, but Gabranth’s stroking his cock, rubbing against his ass and the flat of his hands where they’re cuffed together, and it’s dizzying. It isn’t until Gabranth starts biting, licking like he means it, that Shinji understands there’s chocolate on his back, that Gabranth’s getting off on the same salt-sweet taste that’s in Shinji’s mouth, and he shoves forward into Gabranth’s grip, cups his hands as best he can against Gabranth’s cock.
Gabranth pins him down harder, digs in his teeth, and the squeeze is brutal, perfect, and he comes all over the bastard cop’s expensive sofa. He’d laugh if he weren’t still sucking Gabranth’s fingers, wanting more than fingers, wanting the whole fucking thing.
“Clean up my couch.” Gabranth’s hand goes heavy, pushes him to his knees, but he kisses him while he kneels there, makes no move to undo the cuffs.
Sticking around a little longer might not be so bad.