GetBackers (Sakura/MakubeX)
Jul. 4th, 2007 07:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
reversedhymnal.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: forcible reminder
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reversedhymnal
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: UM. A touch of D/s, a little discipline, and blindfolds, ooh la la~
Word count: 1,191
Prompt: GetBackers, Sakura/MakubeX: Lessons - “lead the way.”
Summary: Sometimes, MakubeX needs a reminder. Luckily for him, Sakura is always by his side.
A/N: I love writing GetBackers. It comes so easily for some reason, ♥ Never written Sakura before, but I hope this suffices~ Enjoy please! :D
It’s cold, sometimes, in the computer room, and MakubeX will go there, and press his palms against the smooth cement floor, press them down hard, and wonder why he feels it. The lights from his computers glow and beep and welcome him, data streaming across monitors, hard drives whirring, transfers blipping across screens. Sometimes MakubeX will just curl up around his legs, arms locked tight around them, and watch the live feed he has running, watch all the many and varied people scurrying about the Fortress.
He sees people laugh, sometimes. He sees children playing in the streets. A mother haggles for fruit with a snotty street vendor and nobody is getting knifed in the dark alley just off the main one.
Oddly enough, that’s when it gets the most overwhelming: when things are going well. That’s when MakubeX’s breath catches in his throat, and his vision goes a little blurry, and all he can hear is the pounding of his heart beat, and he says, without thinking, “How can I be enough for them? How can I be?”
Sakura’s voice brings him back, just a little, a quiet, calm, steady voice in the dark that asks, “What are you talking about?”
MakubeX looks round, finds her eyes and is caught on them, snagged and held and strung up across them. “I’m not even real,” he half-says, half-whispers, so that the words fall dead in the air between them, and Sakura frowns, her face slanting down in disapproval.
“None of that,” she says, voice gentle and full of determination. She rises to her feet, her pink silk rustling at her feet. It’s funny, MakubeX thinks, as he watches her; she is so delicate looking, so soft and sweet and kind, with gentle healing hands. And yet, she is made of steel beneath that casing, and when she says, with dark, strong eyes, “MakubeX, come with me,” MakubeX rises, and follows.
They wind up in her room, as always. This has happened before, but MakubeX is never prepared for it, is never used to it. Is always jumping in his skin, heart beating too fast, for different reasons than panic this time – it’s anticipation, now, and…a mild fear. A fear to face what is to come, a fear that it won’t be enough, that it will be enough, that Sakura’s trust is misplaced.
“Makube,” she says, as she always does when here. In her room, masks are stripped, and he is down to the basics of what he is, of what he was. MakubeX shivers to hear his name like that, so familiar, so distant. “Makube. Strip.”
MakubeX swallows, and begins. “Yes, ma’am.” His skin is hypersensitive, and he can’t stop the shivers that wrack his form as his clothing slides down his limbs, off arms and legs, down over his neck and back and ass, until he stands in a puddle of it, nude and bared before her, pale and white and waif like.
He thinks he looks like a computer program, fluorescent and artificial and barely there.
“Don’t.” Sakura slaps him, hard, across the face, reading his thought in his eyes, perhaps, and MakubeX opens his mouth on a startled, silent gasp, eyes wide. That hurt. His cheek is throbbing, and hot, and tingling where her palm connected.
Very quietly, he says, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sakura’s calm words are like weapons tearing into his flesh, like a virus ripping apart mainframes. “People doubt themselves. Humans doubt themselves. It’s part of being alive, Makube.”
MakubeX swallows carefully, and frowns, and does not look at her, trembling and naked and with his cheek tight and hot and painful red. “Then why…”
“Because,” she says, stepping up to him, stepping around him; she wraps her arms around his waist from the back, pulls him tight against her, to feel her warmth mingle with his. He lets out a shaky sigh, and she presses her lips against his ear, her scarves twining around his ankles soothingly, “when you mess up, you have friends there, to help you fix it. It’s another thing about being human, about being real, about existing, Makube.”
She slides a hand up, presses it over his heart. It pounds inside his chest, beats against her palm, and he relaxes a little back into her. She turns them, and they’re facing her mirror, now, and though MakubeX does not look into it right away, her hand is soft and implacable against his face, as she murmurs, “Look Makube. It will help you learn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers back, and looks. What he sees, no matter how many times he sees it, surprises him. He sees a boy, and a girl, and he sees the girl a steady weight in counterpoint to the trembling that wracks the boy, sees the emotions roiling in the eyes, sees the expressions twisting the faces.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sakura breathes into his ear, “if I were to cut you open and find computer programs inside instead of organs. It doesn’t matter if we can never leave this place. Because here, you are real; in my mind, you are real; you are here, pressed tight against me Makube; you are here, feeling these human insecurities. And what does it matter if it’s god or some mortal playing god who threw us together? We are what we are, and we can still feel.”
MakubeX listens to her hungrily, watches her and watches himself in the mirror. Her hands slide against him, and he can feel her scarves winding up around him, tracing their way up his body, and he shivers against her, doesn’t protest when a length of fabric winds its way tenderly around his eyes, blocks out what he has seen.
“For once,” Sakura says, “forget technicalities. Just feel. That’s the important thing about living, Makube. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he gasps, as her hands slide down, down to his cock, and begin to stroke it to erection. Goose pimples break out across his skin in a wave, and he can feel heat begin to strobe through him, her fingers soft and teasing against the sensitive flesh. He leans back into her, feels her, still clothed, lean and soft against his back. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” her lips press kisses against his face, soft and wet and tender, sliding gently over his skin so that MakubeX begins to feel slightly drunk on it. The scarves are cool silk everywhere else, and he still can’t see anything, but it doesn’t matter. He already closed his eyes, trusting in Sakura, trusting in her implacable faith in him. She’s a lot like her brother, in that way, finding the one they feel is worthy and sticking with them through it all, the most faithful, loyal companion a person could ever ask for.
MakubeX moans, and feels his heart swell with that knowledge, feels it wrap Sakura’s loving lesson around itself like an armor, protection against his doubts and fears and what could be. It doesn’t matter, not really; it just matters that he live, and follow what he feels and believes is right.
And that, that would have to be enough.
Author:
reversedhymnalRating: NC-17
Warnings: UM. A touch of D/s, a little discipline, and blindfolds, ooh la la~
Word count: 1,191
Prompt: GetBackers, Sakura/MakubeX: Lessons - “lead the way.”
Summary: Sometimes, MakubeX needs a reminder. Luckily for him, Sakura is always by his side.
A/N: I love writing GetBackers. It comes so easily for some reason, ♥ Never written Sakura before, but I hope this suffices~ Enjoy please! :D
It’s cold, sometimes, in the computer room, and MakubeX will go there, and press his palms against the smooth cement floor, press them down hard, and wonder why he feels it. The lights from his computers glow and beep and welcome him, data streaming across monitors, hard drives whirring, transfers blipping across screens. Sometimes MakubeX will just curl up around his legs, arms locked tight around them, and watch the live feed he has running, watch all the many and varied people scurrying about the Fortress.
He sees people laugh, sometimes. He sees children playing in the streets. A mother haggles for fruit with a snotty street vendor and nobody is getting knifed in the dark alley just off the main one.
Oddly enough, that’s when it gets the most overwhelming: when things are going well. That’s when MakubeX’s breath catches in his throat, and his vision goes a little blurry, and all he can hear is the pounding of his heart beat, and he says, without thinking, “How can I be enough for them? How can I be?”
Sakura’s voice brings him back, just a little, a quiet, calm, steady voice in the dark that asks, “What are you talking about?”
MakubeX looks round, finds her eyes and is caught on them, snagged and held and strung up across them. “I’m not even real,” he half-says, half-whispers, so that the words fall dead in the air between them, and Sakura frowns, her face slanting down in disapproval.
“None of that,” she says, voice gentle and full of determination. She rises to her feet, her pink silk rustling at her feet. It’s funny, MakubeX thinks, as he watches her; she is so delicate looking, so soft and sweet and kind, with gentle healing hands. And yet, she is made of steel beneath that casing, and when she says, with dark, strong eyes, “MakubeX, come with me,” MakubeX rises, and follows.
They wind up in her room, as always. This has happened before, but MakubeX is never prepared for it, is never used to it. Is always jumping in his skin, heart beating too fast, for different reasons than panic this time – it’s anticipation, now, and…a mild fear. A fear to face what is to come, a fear that it won’t be enough, that it will be enough, that Sakura’s trust is misplaced.
“Makube,” she says, as she always does when here. In her room, masks are stripped, and he is down to the basics of what he is, of what he was. MakubeX shivers to hear his name like that, so familiar, so distant. “Makube. Strip.”
MakubeX swallows, and begins. “Yes, ma’am.” His skin is hypersensitive, and he can’t stop the shivers that wrack his form as his clothing slides down his limbs, off arms and legs, down over his neck and back and ass, until he stands in a puddle of it, nude and bared before her, pale and white and waif like.
He thinks he looks like a computer program, fluorescent and artificial and barely there.
“Don’t.” Sakura slaps him, hard, across the face, reading his thought in his eyes, perhaps, and MakubeX opens his mouth on a startled, silent gasp, eyes wide. That hurt. His cheek is throbbing, and hot, and tingling where her palm connected.
Very quietly, he says, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sakura’s calm words are like weapons tearing into his flesh, like a virus ripping apart mainframes. “People doubt themselves. Humans doubt themselves. It’s part of being alive, Makube.”
MakubeX swallows carefully, and frowns, and does not look at her, trembling and naked and with his cheek tight and hot and painful red. “Then why…”
“Because,” she says, stepping up to him, stepping around him; she wraps her arms around his waist from the back, pulls him tight against her, to feel her warmth mingle with his. He lets out a shaky sigh, and she presses her lips against his ear, her scarves twining around his ankles soothingly, “when you mess up, you have friends there, to help you fix it. It’s another thing about being human, about being real, about existing, Makube.”
She slides a hand up, presses it over his heart. It pounds inside his chest, beats against her palm, and he relaxes a little back into her. She turns them, and they’re facing her mirror, now, and though MakubeX does not look into it right away, her hand is soft and implacable against his face, as she murmurs, “Look Makube. It will help you learn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers back, and looks. What he sees, no matter how many times he sees it, surprises him. He sees a boy, and a girl, and he sees the girl a steady weight in counterpoint to the trembling that wracks the boy, sees the emotions roiling in the eyes, sees the expressions twisting the faces.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sakura breathes into his ear, “if I were to cut you open and find computer programs inside instead of organs. It doesn’t matter if we can never leave this place. Because here, you are real; in my mind, you are real; you are here, pressed tight against me Makube; you are here, feeling these human insecurities. And what does it matter if it’s god or some mortal playing god who threw us together? We are what we are, and we can still feel.”
MakubeX listens to her hungrily, watches her and watches himself in the mirror. Her hands slide against him, and he can feel her scarves winding up around him, tracing their way up his body, and he shivers against her, doesn’t protest when a length of fabric winds its way tenderly around his eyes, blocks out what he has seen.
“For once,” Sakura says, “forget technicalities. Just feel. That’s the important thing about living, Makube. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he gasps, as her hands slide down, down to his cock, and begin to stroke it to erection. Goose pimples break out across his skin in a wave, and he can feel heat begin to strobe through him, her fingers soft and teasing against the sensitive flesh. He leans back into her, feels her, still clothed, lean and soft against his back. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” her lips press kisses against his face, soft and wet and tender, sliding gently over his skin so that MakubeX begins to feel slightly drunk on it. The scarves are cool silk everywhere else, and he still can’t see anything, but it doesn’t matter. He already closed his eyes, trusting in Sakura, trusting in her implacable faith in him. She’s a lot like her brother, in that way, finding the one they feel is worthy and sticking with them through it all, the most faithful, loyal companion a person could ever ask for.
MakubeX moans, and feels his heart swell with that knowledge, feels it wrap Sakura’s loving lesson around itself like an armor, protection against his doubts and fears and what could be. It doesn’t matter, not really; it just matters that he live, and follow what he feels and believes is right.
And that, that would have to be enough.
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 05:45 am (UTC)Makube is such a sad puppy sometimes I just want to glomp him. And Ginji, before Ban got a hold of him. They're both my favorites, ♥
GLAD IT SUFFICED, DARLING!! ♥♥