This Is Gospel (ShimaxYukio)

66. Somewhere

A/N: Hi! I'm back. Sorry that I was away for so long. I had an actual aneurysm and had to take some time to recover but I'm ready to finish this fic for you guys now! Also, flashback smut ahead. WARNING: REALLY SAD CHAPTER. This chapter was inspired by 'Jocelyn Flores' by XXXTENTACION. It's very sad and can cause triggers so please read and listen with caution. I love you all and don't want you to hurt.

The carpet rubbed roughly across Yukio's back and, vaguely, he thought that he might actually get carpet burn. However, it had proven to be quite difficult to hold concern for the condition of his sensitive skin when his mind was floating through a sea of clouded judgement.

The lips and teeth scraping across his skin. Those scarred hands caressing him in loving strokes. The gruff whisper of his own name being whispered in his ear in the throws of passion.

All he could see---all he could feel was Mugen.

The samurai seemed to grow just as uncomfortable as the shag rubbed against his bare knees and, without so much as a word of consideration, he lifted the megane up from the floor and carried him to the bed. That wolfish grin had become something much more of an infatuated smile and Yukio's breath caught in his throat, fingers running through the wild mane of Mugen's hair as his trained his eyes on him.

His back was placed against the cool silk sheets, contrasting against the heat of his skin and pulling an unbidden moan from him as he arched his back against the mattress. Mugen crawled over him, eyeing him with such an intensity that if Yukio didn't know any better he would think he was trying to remember every detail of him---every mole that peppered his alabaster skin.

But maybe, Yukio thinks to himself, he really doesn't know any better.

The mole-faced twin paused in carding through the vagrant's hair to gently take Mugen's face in his hands.

"What are you thinking about, hm?"

Mugen laughed, the slightest bit of melancholy in his voice. "You. Me. Our lives...'n how I wanna spend the rest o' mine." He said, eyes downcast when he saw curiosity flare in Yukio's beryl orbs.

"How would that be? Chasing panties and paychecks?"

Another sorrow-laced chuckle.

"Yeah. Panties n' paychecks, baby."

He leaned down to capture Yukio's lips between his own, slow and careful and ever so deliberate as he maneuvered between Yukio's milky thighs. Yukio's mouth fell open in a soft moan as he was slowly spread open by the girth of Mugen's length, gasping as the older man bottomed out. His legs trembled at the sensation of the head of the samurai's cock pressed against his prostate, arms wrapped around him to pull him closer.

"M-Mugen..."

"Shhh...I've got you, baby. It's okay." And Yukio felt so utterly perfect in his embrace, allowing him to lap and suck at his mouth as he moved in slow, but powerful strokes. He whispered sweet nothings against plump, swollen lips, eyes locked with Yukio's---he was terrified to blink because if he did then maybe, just maybe he'd open them again and Yukio would just be a dream. He couldn't take it---his heart wouldn't be able. He couldn't form it into words but he needed to for Yukio to know...