[Genji wants to believe that there still some way to salvage the distance they need to keep between each other, but he knows they've passed that point by now. It's been creeping in by inches and moments, an insidious weakness for the other- for what they can't have. He could stay, he thinks, likely in a moment of delirium as he fucks his primary physician against the wall of her personal quarters- why not, when the whole organization was on the brink of collapse anyway. Just let it all come crashing down around them. He thinks he might actually laugh then at the sick justice. He would deserve it... but Angela wouldn't. She didn't deserve any of this and it's the only thing that keeps him from ruining everything for his own selfish desires. She deserves better.
So he steels his resolve and lets the base lust of their bodies sweep him under. An ache starts to claw its way up his spine, following the lines of implants drilled into his back, hot and smothered under the suit that wraps his torso, sweat clinging to his hair, itching down the back of his skull. He presses against her, needing the wet heat of her body, needing to feel her pressed against his skin when there's almost nothing from the cybernetics. Only the dull, familiar pain and the ghost of a feeling, the pressure of his body pushed against hers, feeling all the more lacking when he can so keenly feel the hunger for her in the rest of him.
He lets it drive him on, digging his fingers into her sweat slicked skin as his thrusts grow shorter, harder, the tension winding up into his shoulders. She comes, shaking in his arms, and she doesn't need to say anything, he can feel it in her grasping hands and the wordless noises that she tries to hide into his shoulder. Even he had wanted to hold on for longer, he doesn't think he would have been able to. His good arm circled tight around her waist, he snaps the other up against the wall, clenched fingers scraping lines in the paint. He buries himself in her and the orgasm feels like a knife in his back, wrenching out a hard, drawn out snarl, his hips jerking in unsteady spasms, the mix of pain and pleasure unexpectedly heady. Fuck, if he could somehow just stay in this moment for longer, drag it out, relish in the feeling...
But no matter how hard he tries to cling to it, he can feel it already starting to fade and with a defeated groan he slowly sinks to his knees, pulling her down with him. He shivers in the wake of it, sweat stinging his eyes, his cybernetic hand still pressed to the wall beside her head. He doesn't want to let go. He wants to stay. He wants this to be a mistake... but he can't bring himself to think it.]
...Gomen nasai. [It's all he can croak out, his lungs burning, rasping against air that feels too dry and thin.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-04-13 02:33 am (UTC)So he steels his resolve and lets the base lust of their bodies sweep him under. An ache starts to claw its way up his spine, following the lines of implants drilled into his back, hot and smothered under the suit that wraps his torso, sweat clinging to his hair, itching down the back of his skull. He presses against her, needing the wet heat of her body, needing to feel her pressed against his skin when there's almost nothing from the cybernetics. Only the dull, familiar pain and the ghost of a feeling, the pressure of his body pushed against hers, feeling all the more lacking when he can so keenly feel the hunger for her in the rest of him.
He lets it drive him on, digging his fingers into her sweat slicked skin as his thrusts grow shorter, harder, the tension winding up into his shoulders. She comes, shaking in his arms, and she doesn't need to say anything, he can feel it in her grasping hands and the wordless noises that she tries to hide into his shoulder. Even he had wanted to hold on for longer, he doesn't think he would have been able to. His good arm circled tight around her waist, he snaps the other up against the wall, clenched fingers scraping lines in the paint. He buries himself in her and the orgasm feels like a knife in his back, wrenching out a hard, drawn out snarl, his hips jerking in unsteady spasms, the mix of pain and pleasure unexpectedly heady. Fuck, if he could somehow just stay in this moment for longer, drag it out, relish in the feeling...
But no matter how hard he tries to cling to it, he can feel it already starting to fade and with a defeated groan he slowly sinks to his knees, pulling her down with him. He shivers in the wake of it, sweat stinging his eyes, his cybernetic hand still pressed to the wall beside her head. He doesn't want to let go. He wants to stay. He wants this to be a mistake... but he can't bring himself to think it.]
...Gomen nasai. [It's all he can croak out, his lungs burning, rasping against air that feels too dry and thin.]