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Kougami Shinya has done many things in his life. However he has only ever loved two people in an intimate way.

Loving Ginoza Nobuchika had come with experience. It was easy to fall into a comfortable routine with him.  Easy to accept his calm presence and his cool touch. Easy to fall in love.

Easier still that he was always there. Right beside him. When he was happy. When he was sad. Even when there was blood on his hands and murder on his mind.

Ginoza was always there with his silver eyes and quiet reassurances.

Making love with Ginoza was like drowning. Drowning in his scent, his flushed skin, his taste, the sweet sounds pouring from his glistening lips. It was careful, sweet and very pleasurable, more suited to the term love making than fucking. It was Kougami showing his appreciation towards Ginoza's unwavering faith and immovable presence in his life. Sex with Ginoza consisted of soft passionate kisses and lovebites, lingering caresses and fast but gentle thrusts.

Kougami had never felt safer than in Ginoza's arms waking up to a dawning sky. With the linen blankets cool against his skin, Ginoza warm against chest and legs entangled with his.

In Kougami's memories Ginoza meant safety, warmth, protection and familiarity. Because loving Ginoza had come with experience.


Loving Makishima was the exact opposite. Loving Makishima was unwanted, unexpected and completely involuntary. Loving him was feeling the unexplainable sense of magnetic attraction to his liquid gold eyes and his sharp witty mind parallel to his own.
Loving Makishima was accepting the love of a murderer and a psycopath and reciprocating it.

It was fire, anger, hatred, guilt (and passion), all things bad and dangerous. It was wrong and yet oh so right and an addiction so potent in Kougami's system, he became unable to function.

Falling in love with Makishima Shogo was as easy as falling into an abyss of darkness, the hardest thing was accepting it.

It didn't help that Makishima was the only one that had ever truly understood him, the way he thought, the way his mind worked.

Fucking him was like burning. It was rough, animalistic. Often for pleasure and rarely for love. That was the way they were. Makishima said something that set Kougami off and suddenly clothes were being ripped off and Makishima was against the nearest hard surface, moaning wantonly as Kougami grinded against him, mouthing hot wet kisses down his pale neck as he struggled to take off his pants. There was rarely foreplay and always harsh fucking as if Kougami was taking out all his anger and guilt on Makishima's body and if his loud moans and groans were anything to go by, Makishima never had any issue with it.

There were no post coital cuddles and whispered words of love (at least on Kougami's part) and there was never any safety or reliability in Makishima. Only danger in knowing that one day he would wake him with a knife at his throat or poison in his lips. Makishima would always deny it but Kougami had his doubts. Sometimes Kougami wondered if it was even love. (And then he would look into those golden eyes and wonder why he could never pull that trigger and think yes, maybe it was love afterall)

Loving him was crossing the fine line between love and hate and back again.


But even now as Kougami sits alone in his room, in a foreign land far from home, lighting his favourite brand of cigarette- he is unable to say who he would have (or should have) ended up with. Because Kougami was not born in a time where love is needed or wanted. Certainly not when he was living this sort of life.

Sometimes he is reminded of what it feels like to wake up besides Ginoza or the burn of anger and desire he felt for Makishima. And he knows he'll never be able to experience those moments again.