18+ Wild Adapter: Semantics (Kubo x Tokii)

[basedtokit0]

Summary: Kubota and Tokito... are they wild or just stray animals?

Status: Complete

 

Author's Note: A slightly dusty fic I wrote a bit ago, but I feel like sharing it here because even though it's not too long, clocking in near a thousand words, I'm still rather proud of it. Enjoy :' )

 

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Kubota does not think of himself as a wild animal.

 

…but the body underneath him is, pillowcase curled in his claws and mouth agape in harsh pants against it. Were the room colder there would surely be little hints of fog skittering across the cloth with each shudder of the ribs underneath Kubota's palms. Though, pondering more upon it, Tokito is still more 'stray' than 'wild' because he does not flinch or bite as Kubota lets a hand wander up to brush fingertips against Tokito's profile.

 

Instead, Tokito does just the opposite and allows an index finger to brush against his lower lip, drawing out a nearly-smothered Kubo-chan underneath a sigh-moan as Kubota leans down as well to listen in better, thus canting his hips some in that motion. The palm of one hand still rests against Tokito's shoulder, the other against his ear and cheek, feeling the muscles of both jaw and shoulder clench as Kubota slides his hips back-forth once again, setting the pace for a rhythm.

 

Goodness knows however that Tokito does have some of those wilder qualities about him; when Kubota leans down even more, to the full extent that he is allowed in this position, so that his nose is practically buried in the fine hairs at the edge of Tokito's hairline on the nape of his neck, and presses in deeper now that he has that ability, Tokito reaches back with his left hand on impact and grips Kubota's forearm, blunt nails making impressions on the skin and another gasp sticks in his throat.

 

A shudder chases its way down Kubota's spine whenever Tokito's eyes open and dart to the corners of his vision to meet Kubota's gaze, sharp like cut amethyst, and that shudder compels Kubota to pick up the pace, and in response Tokito raises his hips, feeling the skin of Kubota's lower abdomen and the slight jut of his hipbones against his ass. Kubota curls the fingers of one hand against the expanse of skin covering Tokito's back, stretching underneath his palms with every inhale and shift with the cadence of movement, the other curling into the cloth of the pillowcase by Tokito's face, with Tokito's nose occassionally bumping against the bone in Kubota's wrist whenever he does something particularly nice with his thrusts, muttering once more Kubo-chan or miniature expletives, and Kubota hangs onto them like little bits of jutting rocks keeping him from falling off the edge all too soon.

 

When Tokito arches up and back against a particularly precise press downward courtesy of Kubota, he chokes and stutters against his tongue and teeth a moreand Kubota grunts and obliges him, if only to feel that sharp edge of Tokito's shoulderblades slide underneath the flesh covering his back, muscles tightening as he scrabble for purchase against the sheets and while Tokito's senses are hazed over, Kubota risks a chance and takes the hand not held by Tokito and slips his fingers underneath the leather covering Tokito's right hand, feeling the fur there prickle the sensitive pads of the digits.

 

Tokito turns his upper body around slightly, just enough to face Kubota without strain, and looks at Kubota head on, flush stretching up to the edges of his cheeks, and his grip tightens, loosens, tightens in a spasm as Kubota dips his hips once, twice, and Tokito's coming on the sheets below him, toes curling and voice strangled by an elongated groan of Kubota's name.

 

The view of Tokito's eyes dead-locked onto him and the tighter clench around his dick pulls a half formed gasp from Kubota lungs and, after a few more erratic thrusts, he too falls off that edge, shuddering, exhaling the tar-and-ash scent his breath has come to be, and it's all he can do to keep from straight-up sinking down on top of Tokito's spent form. Silently, with only the sounds of intermingled recovery breaths in the background, Kubota sneaks his hand back so Tokito's hand covers it.

 

While Tokito does have some of those more 'wild' qualities about him sometimes, it's true that he really is moreso a 'stray': picked up, taken in, found a home. Especially because by this point, certainly someone more 'wild' would have dismissed this, maybe brushed this off as another encounter, but Tokito does not. Instead, he smirks against the pillow and looks at Kubota and tells him that his hair tickles the side of his neck, but certainly doesn't make an effort to move him to fix it.