Vineyard [Detective Conan fanfic, Vermouth x Gin]

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Detective Conan belongs to Gosho Aoyama and associated parties. I do not make money nor own anything with the exception of my own original characters.

Author's note: The main storyline stays the same with added content. But it has been heavily rewritten and uploaded as of 28/06/2022, so please read it from the beginning. This story is officially set in an alternative universe where the Miyanos and Akais aren't related.

Chapter 5

Gin loved a morning shower after working out. Nothing trumped steaming water rinsing his sweaty body. Nonetheless, Vermouth found a way to prove him wrong.

A hand reached out from behind him, taking his soap to leisurely rub circles around his torso. The sharp fingernails traced down his abs, jumping rope between pain and pleasure. They stopped short at his navel, scratching an invisible itch. Instead of continuing on a downward trajectory, the hand moved back up and caressed his pecs.

He grabbed the naughty perpetrator's hand. Yet rather than being free from temptation, he was assaulted by an unmistakable sensation pressing ever slowly against his back. He couldn't help but sigh when her chin rested on his shoulder. He inhaled sharply as her hardened nipples tickled his spine.

"Fuck!" Since his genitals called dip on the blood supply, his brain had returned to its primal root.

Hot breath blowing on his ear was the last straw. In one swift motion, Gin turned around, slamming her back against the wall, only to elicit a throaty laugh from the actress.

Seeing his jaw tighten made her laugh even harder.

He hoisted her leg on his hip, gripping her thigh open, and thrusting his already painfully hard member inside her. Foreplay be damned. He had every intention of wiping that smile off her face.

Taking his violence with grace, or rather joy, she urged him on. Her hands cupped the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, deeper.

He knew exactly how she liked it. Rough and fast. He pulled his length out almost entirely, then rammed it down hard, followed by shallow thrusts aiming for her sweet spot.

Her nails dug deeper into his skin, leaving trails of red. Her breath became fast and shallow, raising her chin, exposing her milky neck, enticing him, which Gin was happy to oblige. His fangs spotted her artery, knowing full well that with a little effort, he could rupture the vein, making her bleed to death. He lorded over her, enjoying the control he had obtained, savoring the writhing, proud woman underneath his own.

"Wait, Gin ..." Vermouth grimaced, panting, not from the pain, but from the thought of her daughter asking too many questions. "Not there."

Why are you wearing a turtleneck?

Why are you wearing a scarf inside?

He cursed. "Shit!" The hundred questions. He had had a better time being interrogated by criminals. He missed covering that woman with his marks, watching her try to hide them.

Lifting her, he rearranged her position for better support from the slippery tiles. He gripped her buttocks and resumed his fervent thrusting. Chest against chest. With every movement, her entrance gradually tightened around him.

Just a bit more.

Suddenly, Vermouth heard something tapping on the door. Small, yet distinctive. "Did ... you hear that?" She squeezed his shoulders, and braced herself for the onslaught of pleasure.

"Nothing!" He had too much on his hands to care. To overwhelm her senses, he doubled the speed.

Then, a voice from the other room shattered his bubble. "Mommy, daddy, where are you?"