darktrent182: (Work Through the Pain)
[personal profile] darktrent182
TITLE: Fantasies
DISCLAIMER: Lupin III belongs to Monkey Punch. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda.
PAIRING: Lupin/Fujiko, Lupin/Jigen, Lupin/Goemon, Lupin/Zenigata
RATING: NC-17 for descriptions of sex.
SUMMARY: Lupin takes his fantasies for a test drive.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one is sort of a strange experiment? The way the fic is narrated fluctuates, and I wouldn't ordinarily go for it, but it seemed to fit. Incredibly not beta'd, and it probably shows. Tense changes likely to be prevalent. I guess I'm just happy that I wrote something substantial and posted it.


There are times, in the middle of the night, when Lupin imagines what it would be like if the bed weren't quite so empty.

His first thoughts always end up straying to Fujiko -- maybe because she was familiar, maybe because he already knew the places to touch her where she would moan, what made her gasp with pleasure, what made her slide her fingers approvingly through his short-cropped hair. She was a fun fantasy when he was laying back and staring at the ceiling, if only because she was so close, and yet so far away. He could trust her with his life, but at the same time, he couldn't really trust her anywhere near a heist, not without complications.

Thoughts of Fujiko's creamy skin and pink nipples gave way to Jigen's cigarette-smoky voice, growling in approval. It's new territory in that Lupin's never gotten the man into bed, but the fantasy is an old friend, much like the man. Lupin imagined that he'd take the lead for unbuttoning shirts, a few bare touches against a hairy chest, but then Jigen would growl at him to get on with it and turn the tables. The lanky man would pin Lupin to the bed, that battered black fedora finally drifting silently away unnoticed while dark grey eyes stared into Lupin's.

There'd be a few kisses -- hard, fast, grabbing what they wanted out of habit and leaving Lupin wanting more even as his head swam. Strong, callused hands would unbutton clothes, get impatient, possibly even start tearing Lupin's shirt open. The fly of his trousers would give way, revealing blue-and-white-striped boxers, which Jigen would move aside.

The sex would be hard, fast, business giving way to quick and dirty orgasms. Lupin figured that he might be able to sneak away some long, slow kisses when Jigen finally sank back on whatever hotel bed they were using, sweaty and breathing heavy. At the end of things, Lupin can easily imagine the short temper easing, the touches softening to something that could be called love if Jigen weren't so afraid of the word. They'd fall asleep together, and Lupin would wake up with Jigen spooned behind him, one heavy, lanky arm holding his chest as if Jigen were taking a bullet for him, even in deep sleep.

Not wanting to lose this fascinating train of thought, Lupin finds himself thinking about Goemon, feeling almost curious instead of aroused. The would-be samurai never struck him as being the type to go for guys, actually, though every once in a while, Lupin would laugh like hell because a girl got so easily under Goemon's skin.

Goemon, Lupin thinks, would have to be persuaded. Sex with a man isn't the same as sex with a woman -- hell, the samurai had shuudo back in the day. It wouldn't be like he'd be breaking any vows. They weren't in love or anything, it was just about some stress release, that's all....

Goemon could be won over with an argument like that. Lupin toyed briefly with the idea of enlisting Jigen's aid, but imagining the two of them together felt like it was a little much this time around. Maybe on another night, when he wouldn't mind losing track of whose arm was whose, but for now, he wanted to concentrate on detail.

Goemon could be convinced, maybe, to loosen his sarashi, let Lupin slide his hands ever so gingerly over his chest and stomach. He might even blush a little when Lupin tweaked his nipples, but when Lupin suggests that things might be easier to deal with if they both lost the clothes, Goemon would apply himself to methodically removing Lupin's clothes. It was a shame that Lupin might have to remind the swordsman that this was supposed to be fun, and that maybe Goemon could try not to look like he was being executed at dawn, but Goemon would probably get the hint the further downwards Lupin's hands trailed.

It'd take some coaxing, but Goemon would be on his back, trying to keep still as Lupin's touches turned into a half-massage, half-tease, testing erogenous zones, finding ticklish spots and soothing them whenever Goemon tensed. Sucking him off would be an exercise in willpower, Lupin was absolutely positive. Goemon would try to hold off as best he could while Lupin would just work his lips and mouth all the more fiercely to get him to give in, dammit.

Since this was Lupin's fantasy, and he didn't mind fighting dirty, Goemon would let go and have an orgasm that would leave him a little wild around the eyes, his hands twitching a little. Lupin would grin at him, wipe his mouth, soak in the atmosphere. Goemon would probably offer to reciprocate just out of manners, but no, Lupin would shake his head.

As much as he enjoys the hell out of bedding women, one of Lupin's secret pleasures is actually getting guys off with just his mouth and hands. It's one of those little things he was surprised to learn about himself when he was a teenager, and he hasn't had much opportunity to really explore it, but Lupin's found that he can enjoy himself with just the feeling of hard, smooth flesh in his mouth and the deep musk of a guy who's definitely aroused filling his nose.

Lupin would probably just get himself off by hand, with Goemon tentatively reaching for him, and then just running his hands over Lupin's chest, his arms, anywhere, in lazy, smooth motions until Lupin came in his hand and wiped it off on some corner of the bedsheets. When Lupin would wake up the next morning, he'd be surprised to find himself back-to-back with Goemon, a little chilly from the lack of spooning, but still somehow relaxed in spite of it.

Lazily working himself through his boxers, Lupin could feel a flush of warmth winding its way through him, his brain idly supplying images of Fujiko wrapped in silk sheets, Jigen's grin a slash of white in the dark room, the inexplicable softness of Goemon's hakama, along with a small smile.

The first image of Zenigata that drifted to mind, however, was a half-wrestling match, the snick of handcuffs ringing before they closed around one of Lupin's wrists. The good inspector was growling that he'd caught him now, he won't get away this time. Lupin knows all too well that of course this isn't it, the one time that Zenigata wins once and for all, but he goes with the fantasy because while his body is indolent with slow arousal and tufts of sensations, his brain is working now, furiously working out details like it would in the middle of a heist.

Zenigata pins him against a wall, using his slight height advantage over Lupin to keep him still, dammit, if Lupin would stop struggling, this would go a lot easier on him. But no, Lupin's not about to let Tott-san have this one, not when he's two steps away from getting away from the scene of the crime with a suitcase of cash and Jigen waiting just outside.

There's a flash of metal as Lupin slips a hand out of the metal cuff, and with some maneuvering, they're cuffed together, Lupin's free hand wrapping around the back of the inspector's neck and dragging him down for a fierce kiss that's meant to surprise and distract.

But Zenigata's not playing by the script. Instead of yanking back in surprise, frustration pours into the kiss, making it wild, unwieldy, with teeth clashing and tongues fighting each other in a slippery dance for dominance. Somehow in the confusion, Tott-san's battered fedora has disappeared (and Lupin's kind of wondering what he has about disappearing hats, actually), and Lupin's running his fingers approvingly through the inspector's uneven buzzcut. When they break for air, Zenigata's brown eyes are flashing, and he's frustrated, angry, and shaking with arousal.

"Bastard," Zenigata snaps, grabbing the lapels of Lupin's jacket and diving in for a hard, quick kiss before sliding one hand underneath to grab the back of Lupin's shirt in a needy fistful and untucking it roughly. He leans in close to Lupin's left ear and purrs, "You have 'til the count of ten to get the hell out of here, or I'm not going to held accountable for my actions."

In reply to this warning -- more of a challenge, since Tott-san knows that warnings to Lupin just mean full-speed ahead -- Lupin manages to squirm one of his legs between the inspector's and rub very firmly against the hard heat he finds there.

"Ten!" Zenigata's growl is louder, and he practically slams Lupin against the wall, mauling his lips before pulling back abruptly. Lupin's mouth is dry, for some reason, as he stares, but Zenigata's already moved on, licking and sucking and biting at Lupin's neck while Lupin himself can only moan helplessly and scrabble at the inspector's overcoat.

When the lips disappear, only for frantic hands to work at loosening Lupin's tie and yanking it free with a loud zrip, Lupin has enough wits about him to smirk and murmur, "Hey, Tott-san, I lost count. Was that four?"

Buttons go flying as Zenigata grabs two fistfuls of shirt and yanks. "It's going to be two if you keep that shit up," he manages through a clenched jaw. His hands disappear, only to grab Lupin's ass, squeeze for a long, delightful moment, and then snake around to pin his hips in place. Zenigata's mouth returns, first to Lupin's chest in a firm nip, and then downwards as the man starts to bend his knees.

Lupin bites his lower lip when Tott-san finds just that right spot on his left side that gets him harder. His hands, both unsteady with shakes, grip uselessly at the inspector -- his broad shoulders, his arms, his head -- before settling on his hair and clenching, because Tott-san is still growing out his hair from that one time he quit the force to become a Buddhist monk, and it jolts Lupin for a second that he remembers that, but then brown eyes are staring up into his, and he licks his lips.

"I don't need a ten-count, Tott-san," he manages in a dry, broken voice, because his mouth is drier than the Sahara, and he still feels like his head is spinning.

Zenigata's jaw visibly clenches -- whether because of the nickname, or because of something else, Lupin isn't sure -- but then he whispers, "What if I do?"

Something clenches inside of Lupin. He knows Zenigata -- they've played this cat-and-mouse game for years, and you can't help but learn the person chasing you after all that time -- and this isn't just some drunk suck-it-and-see, this is real, and Tott-san isn't the kind of guy to do something if he isn't fully committed. That he's doing this in the first place....

Lupin knows he'd do something stupid, like kissing him deeply, making a promise with his tongue and teeth that he knows it's important to the inspector, that they're about to cross the Rubicon, and there's no going back from it. Neither of them are going to change for the other man, but there's going to be something else binding them even more deeply to each other.

During the kiss, Lupin can feel the moment Zenigata unclenches, because the kiss isn't wild anymore, but it's warm and shaky and breathless and pretty damn good -- who knew the inspector could kiss like that? -- and somehow, they've gone from against the wall to some squeaky-ass bed in another room, and Lupin doesn't give a damn how they got there, Zenigata's still kissing him like that and strong, firm hands are stroking his belly, tweaking a nipple, rubbing him through his pants even as he's unzipping them.

Clothes disappear, leaving skin bare to be kissed, marked, explored, and the inspector looks pretty fit for his age, which is a bit surprising, but soon, Zenigata is pushing him down against the bed, kissing him, prepping him.

If there's a certain amount of satisfaction in going down on men and driving them nuts, taking it up the ass is really kind of a cherry on top. Lupin's more picky about who he'd trust in that kind of position, because it's damn vulnerable to begin with, but there's no question in his mind that this would happen. It'd happen with Jigen, sure, but it would happen here too, even if Zenigata's life is devoted to capturing Lupin, even if they're on opposite sides of the law. Now, it's just a haze of pleasure, and then Zenigata's taking him, slow and steady at first, but then with a steady beat, back and forth, the bed thumping against the wall like in some cheap hotel with peeling wallpaper and an hourly rate.

Lupin can imagine it pretty damn good, but the one thing that he thinks of most of all is how those eyes, brown and so very dark, are staring into his, like Tott-san's found the one place where Lupin can't run away from, and it feels warm and embarrassing and achingly naked, and he snaps out of the fantasy by how hard he's coming into his hand, spots in front of his eyes buzzing back and forth for a few moments before Lupin's left sweating, flat on his back, with his dick in hand and the smell of spunk in the air.

Lupin swallows after a long moment, feeling the aftershocks, and finds himself wondering how bad it would be to wake up in the morning to Zenigata's hands clenched around his wrists in deep sleep, as if he'd never be able to let him go.

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