Silk
Title: Silk
Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera
Pairing: Luigi/Amber
Warnings: Incest, graphic sexual content, drug use.
Sometimes, when she’s pulling on her half-crumpled stockings, Amber catches him watching her in the mirror. Through smudged makeup and wisps of cigarette smoke, she peers up at him curiously. It never seems quick enough to catch his eyes.
He buttons his shirt decisively, focused on the task as soon as her gaze finds him. The growling, snarling orders and obscenities has grated his voice gruff when he finally speaks.
“Shouldn’t you get going or something?”
She takes another drag, sinking back into the pillows on her elbows, “I don’t have anything to do until tonight.”
Luigi frowns as he pulls on his gloves, “Yeah, well, I got shit to do.”
“Like what?”
“For Pop. Business stuff.”
In one languid motion, she heaves herself from the bed to her feet. He ignores her until her arms slide around his shoulders, and he can feel her chest brushing against his back.
“C’mon. Stay a little while.” She coos, curling a bit of his hair in her fingertips.
“You smell like shit.”
Amber frowns, drawing back from him. On the way out, she stubs out her cigarette on the corner of his desk.
***
The hit thrills through her hard enough to weaken her knees. Even her lips feel numb, save the faint tingle as her breath flutters between them. Her hand uncurls around the coins in her palm, and they clink to the street. Her body follows soon enough. Graverobber rolls his eyes as he bends down to retrieve the money.
After inspecting it a moment, his eyes flick up to her, “This isn’t enough.”
Amber’s brow furrows in confusion. For a hazy second, she glances down to her empty palm, almost expecting to find another coin or two. Finding nothing, her arm drops back to her side.
“I had enough.” She tells him limply.
“Well, you don’t now.”
“But I had it.”
A frustrated groan escapes him, “Listen, either you pay up, or you’re off my list.”
Amber chews her lip worriedly. The pavement below her is cold, and something in the garbage along the alley wall is beginning to smell, but her body remembers the ache, the slow, hungry burn of withdrawal. With a small sigh, her legs fall open.
***
Luigi can tell she’s high from the moment her silhouette appears in the doorway, leaning heavy against the frame. He doesn’t look up from the knife he’s polishing.
“The fuck d’you want?”
Pouting, Amber pushes herself upright, “That’s not very nice, when I come to visit you all special.” She tells him, eyelids drooping. He watches her for a long moment, and she sighs, “I need some cash.”
“Pop gives you plenty of cash.” Luigi replies with a frown.
“No, I mean…I mean I need some cash, not my card.”
“So go take some out.”
She gives an exasperated sigh, “I can’t, Daddy’ll ask.”
“You need drug money.” He leans back in his chair with a scowl.
Amber winces, whining, “Don’t call it that! That sounds so gross!” She replies, “I just need a little help, that’s all. For the pain.”
“If you wouldn’t cut yourself up so goddamn much, you wouldn’t need that shit.” He grunts.
Letting out a soft sigh, she slips into the bedroom. He resists only for a moment when she pushes the knife and cleaning cloth aside, settling her body into their place over his lap.
“Don’t be mean to me.” She breathes, resting her head against his shoulder.
Luigi frowns. He’s never been able to be harsh enough with her, that’s the entire problem. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be. Sometimes, she makes him want nothing more than to pop her a good one, right in the jaw. But he never does it. Maybe it’s that she’s younger. That she’s the only girl. That she’s small. Every time, he tells himself one or the other. She purrs as one of his hands comes to rest in her hair.
“See? I knew you could be nice, huh?”
He merely grumbles in reply, and she nuzzles firmly into the hollow of his neck. One of her nails, acid-green to match last week’s new eyes, traces affectionately along the line of his jaw.
“C’mon, Luigi…” She breathes.
She sure as shit doesn’t mean the money. He briefly wonders if she even remembers it through the buzz, until her lips brush against the sensitive spot just under his ear.
She can already feel the hunger from the downhill side of a good hit stirring in her chest. The scent of his cologne filters dimly through the numbness. Slowly, warmly, her mouth searches out the soft patch of skin where his neck meets his shoulder. Her fingers work open the buttons of his shirt, and although he shifts slightly beneath her, he makes no move to push her back. His shudder is the first sensation that she’s copasetic enough to feel in her fingertips.
Sinking back slightly, Luigi sets his palm against the small of her back. Shivering and catlike, her body arches swiftly at the touch. One corner of her mouth curls just slightly.
“I like that.” She whispers against the shell of his ear, and he believes her. Her breath is warm, in sharp contrast with the cool hands that have begun to explore the scars at his chest.
“You do, huh?” He smirks just faintly. The small pout it earns him is reward enough, but he can hardly complain when she arches, pressing her body into his eagerly.
“It’s not nice to tease.” She tells him softly.
“Then you better get to work.”
It’s the only time he can be almost as rough as he wants with her. At first it was careful, tentative, but the twisting of her body, her nails in the skin of his back push him quickly into more familiar ground. He knows she’s been out already tonight as soon as he pulls her coat from her shoulders, but he says nothing. It’s a silent contract. He ignores the smell of god-knows-what, the needle tracks in her thighs, and she turns a blind eye when Pavi’s body is a minefield of bruises at the breakfast table. His hands smooth only briefly over her scratched shoulders before one of them winds into her hair.
A small smirk crosses Amber’s lips, “You’re sick, you know that?” She purrs pleasedly.
“Don’t fucking play with me.” He hisses, augmenting the motion with a small tug.
With a shuddering sigh, one of her hands flies obediently to the clasps of her bustier. She struggles with them for a few moments before Luigi frees her of it. Another shiver passes through her frame, and she sinks into him.
The feel of Amber’s marred skin against his own makes something jump in his chest. His hands fall to the hem of her skirt, dragging it over her hips in one firm, practiced motion. She wriggles happily to allow it, her body dipping and arching tantalizingly against his. Even through her scant underwear, he can feel the heat of her against his thigh. He shoves the fabric aside, smirking at the sudden groan that pushes through her throat as he plunges two fingers into her. Immediately, her hips are pushing down into his hand, twisting and thrusting and begging for more. Her face presses against his shoulder, and he can hear her hiss a low, “Fuck…” into his skin.
“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is almost taunting, lips pressed against her temple as he speaks.
“Luigi…” She groans lowly. Her fingers find his zipper, working to undo it shakily as she forces herself back against him, “Please, Luigi…”
The hand in her hair yanks her back, and he draws back from her to jerk the stubborn zipper open. Amber’s hips never stop moving, hungrily grinding down against him. As soon as the pants are open, she drags his underwear down, and not even a moment passes before she’s already positioned above him, green eyes locked with his, small smirk on her lips.
“Tell me how much you wanna’.” She purrs.
He can already feel her slickness, pressed just barely against the tip of his cock, and his hips twitch just slightly. He’s never been one for games, and she knows it. It still never stops her.
“C’mon, Luigi…”
Ignoring her encouragement, he seizes her by the hips. She barely has time to register the motion before he’s inside her, deep and hungry and unrelenting. The fullness thrills through her, leaving her shudderingly mute for a few seconds until her sharp, loud moan fills the room around them. Luigi groans with satisfaction.
“Fuck, you feel so good…” He hisses against the hollow of her neck.
The words slip through her mind without registering. The only sense, the only feeling in the world is the way he feels inside her. She forces her hips down to meet his thrusts, gasping softly as he fills her with each one. Over and over again, she murmurs his name against his shoulder. Her fingertips ghost over his back, his shoulders, the nape of his neck, anywhere she can find to touch him, to scream yes, more! with every inch of her body.
“Please…” She begs as she feels him tense within her, “Oh, Luigi, please, please, please…”
The heat of his climax is enough to push her over the edge as well. She lets out a strangled cry into his skin as her body twists and pitches. Anchored at her hips, his hands are that keep her in the chair.
She’s trembling by the time it all subsides. Her frame falls limp against his, and he grunts softly as he catches her. Little by little, she can feel slivers of pain creeping back into her skin.
Gathering her limbs wordlessly, Luigi lifts the spent woman. They make it just barely to the edge of the bed before sinking down heavily once more. Amber’s body melts eagerly into the crooks of his. Already, she’s half-asleep against him. Beneath the covers, he pushes the torn stockings from her legs.
Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera
Pairing: Luigi/Amber
Warnings: Incest, graphic sexual content, drug use.
Sometimes, when she’s pulling on her half-crumpled stockings, Amber catches him watching her in the mirror. Through smudged makeup and wisps of cigarette smoke, she peers up at him curiously. It never seems quick enough to catch his eyes.
He buttons his shirt decisively, focused on the task as soon as her gaze finds him. The growling, snarling orders and obscenities has grated his voice gruff when he finally speaks.
“Shouldn’t you get going or something?”
She takes another drag, sinking back into the pillows on her elbows, “I don’t have anything to do until tonight.”
Luigi frowns as he pulls on his gloves, “Yeah, well, I got shit to do.”
“Like what?”
“For Pop. Business stuff.”
In one languid motion, she heaves herself from the bed to her feet. He ignores her until her arms slide around his shoulders, and he can feel her chest brushing against his back.
“C’mon. Stay a little while.” She coos, curling a bit of his hair in her fingertips.
“You smell like shit.”
Amber frowns, drawing back from him. On the way out, she stubs out her cigarette on the corner of his desk.
***
The hit thrills through her hard enough to weaken her knees. Even her lips feel numb, save the faint tingle as her breath flutters between them. Her hand uncurls around the coins in her palm, and they clink to the street. Her body follows soon enough. Graverobber rolls his eyes as he bends down to retrieve the money.
After inspecting it a moment, his eyes flick up to her, “This isn’t enough.”
Amber’s brow furrows in confusion. For a hazy second, she glances down to her empty palm, almost expecting to find another coin or two. Finding nothing, her arm drops back to her side.
“I had enough.” She tells him limply.
“Well, you don’t now.”
“But I had it.”
A frustrated groan escapes him, “Listen, either you pay up, or you’re off my list.”
Amber chews her lip worriedly. The pavement below her is cold, and something in the garbage along the alley wall is beginning to smell, but her body remembers the ache, the slow, hungry burn of withdrawal. With a small sigh, her legs fall open.
***
Luigi can tell she’s high from the moment her silhouette appears in the doorway, leaning heavy against the frame. He doesn’t look up from the knife he’s polishing.
“The fuck d’you want?”
Pouting, Amber pushes herself upright, “That’s not very nice, when I come to visit you all special.” She tells him, eyelids drooping. He watches her for a long moment, and she sighs, “I need some cash.”
“Pop gives you plenty of cash.” Luigi replies with a frown.
“No, I mean…I mean I need some cash, not my card.”
“So go take some out.”
She gives an exasperated sigh, “I can’t, Daddy’ll ask.”
“You need drug money.” He leans back in his chair with a scowl.
Amber winces, whining, “Don’t call it that! That sounds so gross!” She replies, “I just need a little help, that’s all. For the pain.”
“If you wouldn’t cut yourself up so goddamn much, you wouldn’t need that shit.” He grunts.
Letting out a soft sigh, she slips into the bedroom. He resists only for a moment when she pushes the knife and cleaning cloth aside, settling her body into their place over his lap.
“Don’t be mean to me.” She breathes, resting her head against his shoulder.
Luigi frowns. He’s never been able to be harsh enough with her, that’s the entire problem. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be. Sometimes, she makes him want nothing more than to pop her a good one, right in the jaw. But he never does it. Maybe it’s that she’s younger. That she’s the only girl. That she’s small. Every time, he tells himself one or the other. She purrs as one of his hands comes to rest in her hair.
“See? I knew you could be nice, huh?”
He merely grumbles in reply, and she nuzzles firmly into the hollow of his neck. One of her nails, acid-green to match last week’s new eyes, traces affectionately along the line of his jaw.
“C’mon, Luigi…” She breathes.
She sure as shit doesn’t mean the money. He briefly wonders if she even remembers it through the buzz, until her lips brush against the sensitive spot just under his ear.
She can already feel the hunger from the downhill side of a good hit stirring in her chest. The scent of his cologne filters dimly through the numbness. Slowly, warmly, her mouth searches out the soft patch of skin where his neck meets his shoulder. Her fingers work open the buttons of his shirt, and although he shifts slightly beneath her, he makes no move to push her back. His shudder is the first sensation that she’s copasetic enough to feel in her fingertips.
Sinking back slightly, Luigi sets his palm against the small of her back. Shivering and catlike, her body arches swiftly at the touch. One corner of her mouth curls just slightly.
“I like that.” She whispers against the shell of his ear, and he believes her. Her breath is warm, in sharp contrast with the cool hands that have begun to explore the scars at his chest.
“You do, huh?” He smirks just faintly. The small pout it earns him is reward enough, but he can hardly complain when she arches, pressing her body into his eagerly.
“It’s not nice to tease.” She tells him softly.
“Then you better get to work.”
It’s the only time he can be almost as rough as he wants with her. At first it was careful, tentative, but the twisting of her body, her nails in the skin of his back push him quickly into more familiar ground. He knows she’s been out already tonight as soon as he pulls her coat from her shoulders, but he says nothing. It’s a silent contract. He ignores the smell of god-knows-what, the needle tracks in her thighs, and she turns a blind eye when Pavi’s body is a minefield of bruises at the breakfast table. His hands smooth only briefly over her scratched shoulders before one of them winds into her hair.
A small smirk crosses Amber’s lips, “You’re sick, you know that?” She purrs pleasedly.
“Don’t fucking play with me.” He hisses, augmenting the motion with a small tug.
With a shuddering sigh, one of her hands flies obediently to the clasps of her bustier. She struggles with them for a few moments before Luigi frees her of it. Another shiver passes through her frame, and she sinks into him.
The feel of Amber’s marred skin against his own makes something jump in his chest. His hands fall to the hem of her skirt, dragging it over her hips in one firm, practiced motion. She wriggles happily to allow it, her body dipping and arching tantalizingly against his. Even through her scant underwear, he can feel the heat of her against his thigh. He shoves the fabric aside, smirking at the sudden groan that pushes through her throat as he plunges two fingers into her. Immediately, her hips are pushing down into his hand, twisting and thrusting and begging for more. Her face presses against his shoulder, and he can hear her hiss a low, “Fuck…” into his skin.
“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is almost taunting, lips pressed against her temple as he speaks.
“Luigi…” She groans lowly. Her fingers find his zipper, working to undo it shakily as she forces herself back against him, “Please, Luigi…”
The hand in her hair yanks her back, and he draws back from her to jerk the stubborn zipper open. Amber’s hips never stop moving, hungrily grinding down against him. As soon as the pants are open, she drags his underwear down, and not even a moment passes before she’s already positioned above him, green eyes locked with his, small smirk on her lips.
“Tell me how much you wanna’.” She purrs.
He can already feel her slickness, pressed just barely against the tip of his cock, and his hips twitch just slightly. He’s never been one for games, and she knows it. It still never stops her.
“C’mon, Luigi…”
Ignoring her encouragement, he seizes her by the hips. She barely has time to register the motion before he’s inside her, deep and hungry and unrelenting. The fullness thrills through her, leaving her shudderingly mute for a few seconds until her sharp, loud moan fills the room around them. Luigi groans with satisfaction.
“Fuck, you feel so good…” He hisses against the hollow of her neck.
The words slip through her mind without registering. The only sense, the only feeling in the world is the way he feels inside her. She forces her hips down to meet his thrusts, gasping softly as he fills her with each one. Over and over again, she murmurs his name against his shoulder. Her fingertips ghost over his back, his shoulders, the nape of his neck, anywhere she can find to touch him, to scream yes, more! with every inch of her body.
“Please…” She begs as she feels him tense within her, “Oh, Luigi, please, please, please…”
The heat of his climax is enough to push her over the edge as well. She lets out a strangled cry into his skin as her body twists and pitches. Anchored at her hips, his hands are that keep her in the chair.
She’s trembling by the time it all subsides. Her frame falls limp against his, and he grunts softly as he catches her. Little by little, she can feel slivers of pain creeping back into her skin.
Gathering her limbs wordlessly, Luigi lifts the spent woman. They make it just barely to the edge of the bed before sinking down heavily once more. Amber’s body melts eagerly into the crooks of his. Already, she’s half-asleep against him. Beneath the covers, he pushes the torn stockings from her legs.