IY drabble set: I Won't Respect You in the Morning
So, I got inspired to write this as a reaction to all the schmoopified versions of Jakotsu/Bankotsu fics. Canon suggests that any sex between them would go rather like this, than anything else (IMO).
Rating: R
Length: each drabble is 200 words exactly
A/N to schmoopy J/B shippers: Eat it.
I Won’t Respect You In the Morning: part one.
Jakotsu’s eyes were slitted as he watched Bankotsu move around the encampment. Bankotsu avoided even looking at him, face a cool blank, as he puttered around getting dressed, sharpening his halberd, eating.
Bankotsu was always like this, after they had sex.
Jakotsu didn’t understand all the fuss. Bankotsu had stopped him every time he tried to make their encounter a little more interesting- refused to be asphyxiated with his own braid, insisted that blood was not actually adequate lube, and flatly refused to let a knife come anywhere within six feet of the pallet.
Clearly, if anyone had cause to be upset, it was Jakotsu. He’d had to endure sex that was so boring he’d actually nodded off a few times, though he’d never let Bankotsu know. And boring sex was worse than no sex at all, in his opinion.
Huffing, he faced away from the group and pushed out his bottom lip in an impressive pout. Next time, instead of spending an hour talking Bankotsu into it, he’d just find some fresh-faced young innocent from a nearby village who couldn’t fight him off. And then the blood would run in rivers, and the screams would be so, so pretty…
I Won’t Respect You In the Morning: part two.
Bankotsu walked gingerly, as he always did the morning after sex with Jakotsu; both his ass and dick hurt something fierce. Why, he asked himself for the twelfth time since waking, do I keep letting Jakotsu talk me into it?
No, he corrected himself, I know why. He was horny. The question, then, was “why did he keep letting his libido get the better of him, when he knew how it was going to end, every time?”
He knew this answer, too: when a man is deprived, anything seems reasonable, even the ramblings of a- admittedly attractive-- psychopath. Because, well, Jakotsu might be nuts, but he had a way of pleading so nicely. Bankotsu very much liked to be begged.
That didn’t negate the fear of having something important amputated during the throes of passion. Bankotsu didn’t mind it rough- in fact, preferred it that way- but when there was a real chance of having body parts separated from him, he had to draw a line.
Still, he thought with a sigh, heaving the halberd onto his shoulder, at least it had taken the edge off. If he could survive sex with Jakotsu, odds were good on him surviving anything.