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Motoko Kusanagi x Batou (GITS: Stand-Alone Complex)

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It was nighttime, which was, the Major thought, the time when everything interesting seemed to happen.

Section 9 was closing in on an arms dealer in Okinawa, and the Major and Batou had shacked up in a cheapish hotel not too far from the waterfront. Dusk had gently shaded over the outside as the sun set for the day, and it had come to their collective attention that the room only contained one bed. Batou had immediately volunteered to sleep on the floor, but the Major had waved away his suggestion, trying to take his place instead. They had realized at some point that having both of them sleep on the floor would be a waste, and had reluctantly taken up opposite sides of the bed. Before doing so, they had changed separately in the bathroom, one at a time, and the Major had moved the blankets over to the right for Batou, who had in turn volunteered his jacket for the Major to sleep under. Even as a cyborg, she needed the pressure to help her sleep. He couldn’t remember when she’d told him that, but it stuck in his head for some reason, and he tried his best to accommodate her.

And now, here they were, both in T-shirts and sweatpants, laying uncomfortably on the bed with some distance between them, having second thoughts about the whole thing.

Batou was on top of the blanket, assorted thoughts flicking through his cyberbrain. The first, and most devious one, was that it was about time for him to go out for his nighttime cigarette. He pushed it aside, annoyed. He’d taken up smoking in the army to help with the stress, and had quit maybe a year ago under the direction of the Major. It wasn’t healthy, it hadn’t smelled any good, and, as she had pointed out, it didn’t fit him. Batou wasn’t a bum, and he went out for a brisk run every morning he could before following it up with his weight routine. So she’d taken him aside, and floated the idea with him, and he’d accepted. Oddly enough, it hadn’t been because it bothered her (though he was almost sure it had), but because she had been concerned that it bothered him. It was as if she cared about him. Sure, she cared about everyone in Section 9, but it was as if she cared about him a little more. He couldn’t figure why, but she did, and he was okay with that.

He was having other thoughts too, about the Major. About her soft her lips looked, and the gentle curves of her cybernetic body, and-

Damnit, Batou!

He shook himself awake, and blinked, or at least, he tried to. His cybernetic eyes meant that he couldn’t, and he satisfied the urge by shaking his head instead and letting it rest on his palms against the pillow. His vision drifted lazily over to the Major.

She had rolled his heavy fur-lined bomber jacket into a tight cocoon around herself, her legs curled up to her chest, facing away from him. He could hear her humming softly to herself.

“Major,” he said.

“Mm?” she said, turning over to look at him.

“You can’t sleep either?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You,” she said, almost boredly.

Something jumped inside Batou, and he tried fitfully to calm it.

“Er, what about me?” he asked.

The Major blushed, and her eyes looked away for a second. Batou had never seen her blush before. He didn’t know her body model allowed it.

“It’s nothing.”

Batou sighed. “Come on. What is it?”

The Major looked down at Batou’s chest for a second. He knew eye contact could be hard for her, but it almost seemed as if she was staring at it..

Then she looked up, and, without warning, grabbed the sides of his face, pulled him in, and kissed him.

Almost as suddenly, she drew back, her hands clenched and her face simultaneously blushing and strained in fear. “Oh god- I didn’t even ask- I’m sorry- I-”

“Major.” Batou smiled.

She looked back to him, even more worried.

He put his large hands on the side of her face this time, and pulling her in, proceeded to kiss her with equal passion.

When he drew back, she was blushing even harder, and her artificial breathing seemed to have sped up slightly.

“Batou…” she began.

“I know,” he said, completing her thought. “I like you too.”

She kissed him again, and he returned the favor.

When he pulled her in for another kiss, he could hear her humming gently again, and he let go. She ran one slim hand along his strong, squarish chin, and his fingers ghosted over her cheekbones.

“... I’m not very good at this,” she admitted. It was a side of the Major he’d never seen before. She’d always been so headstrong and confident, and to see her vulnerable was so strange and… strangely attractive. He’d always looked up to her, but it was nice to know that she was human too… even if only a little.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m not either. Last relationship I had ended in an assassination attempt. She was a Yakuza sleeper agent the whole time.”

The Major laughed quietly. It was odd to her her laugh, too. Humor had never been her forte.

“What was her name?” she asked.

“Yumi,”: he replied. “Yumi Yamaguchi.”

“Cute,” she replied. It was another word he’d never heard her use. He decided to take it as a compliment, though.

The Major’s hand, which until now had been stroking his collarbone, had somehow slipped down to the hem of his shirt and was playing with it, lifting it teasingly. Batou stared down at it, and then back up at the Major.

“Major?” he began.

She shook her head. “Motoko.”

“That’s your name?”

“Yes. It’s what I’d like you to call me.”

“All right then. Motoko?”

Motoko smiled. “Take it off, Batou,” she whispered, a hungry gleam in her eyes.

Batou was dumbfounded. “Maj- Motoko, are you sure?”

She nodded vigorously.

Batou sat up and stripped his shirt off. The Maj- Motoko seemed enthralled with his bare torso. She stared at it, moved her lips slightly, hummed to herself, and ran her hand over the firm muscles of his abdomen, her fingers gracing the jagged scar that cut across his skin.

“What’s this from?” she asked.

“A knife fight,” he said. “You should have seen the other guy.”

She lay her head on his chest, stroking it gently, and he let his fingers tangle in her longish purple hair, gently pulling out tangles and clumps. She hummed softly, and kissed the bare skin of his chest.

Batou stroked her bare arm, and she reached down to his groin, feeling something harden beneath her hand.

Without warning, she pulled away and rolled off of him, facing away from him.

“Motoko!” Batou cried, worried. “All you okay?!”

She quickly and messily removed her sweatpants to reveal long, slim legs and grey panties. Barely stopping to breathe, she climbed up on top of him, straddling him, and rising up to close to her full height, peeled her shirt off and threw it to the floor to expose an athlete’s midriff and a plain grey sports bra. She fell to her hands on either side of his shoulders, staring into his eyes. Her cheeks were deeply flushed and she was panting, eager, desiring and desirable.

Batou gave a sharp intake of breath, and Motoko leaned down to kiss him again, her tongue feeling his lips this time.

“Motoko!” he almost shouted, starting to pant himself. “Are you sure you want this?!”

“Yes,” she breathed, cool air against his face. “Yes I do.”

* * * * *

When Batou awoke, it was to the beep of the six A.M. alarm and the gentle waking moan of Motoko.

“Good morning, sexy,” he said, turning to face her.

“Hi, Batou,” she replied, gleefully.

“You ready for today?” he asked, climbing out of bed to go dig his clothes out of his suitcase.

She propped herself up on one elbow to watch his naked, muscular frame in comfort. “Yep,” she replied. “We both go in as Italian Mafia members looking to buy some combat androids. You keep them entertained while I pull the evidence.”

He nodded. “I’m counting on you. Remember, this was your idea.”

She chuckled. “I think I can handle myself, Batou. Remember I’m the leader here, not you.”

“Yes ma’am.” He tossed her overnight bag on the bed. “Put some clothes on. You’re distracting me.”

Motoko raised one eyebrow. “I might like to distract you some more after this is over.”

Batou grinned his signature grin. “I’d be down for that.”

* * * * *