Stephanie (mirroredsakura) wrote,

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Yes, the old Haitsu

For Caelin because I can't find it when I scroll through my LJ, and don't want to keep scrounging. ^^;; Can't really grouch at you because I can't send it to you when I'm the one that asked you to look over it in the first place I guess. I can grouch over the fact that you don't have an LJ. ~_~;;

Ignore. You've probably all seen it anyway. It's old. ^^;; Kinda.

Musical Interlude

Warning: Sadist!Hyde and Masochist!Tetsu fic and also with a tinge of PWP. NC-17. Technically. Of course, who really listens to the ratings anyway? After all… I’m writing this… and I’ve got a month or so to go before I’m legally 17… ^^ Beware of rather stereotypical plot because really, I haven’t the brain matter necessary to think up plot. This may actually be the closest to one-shot I’ve ever come. It comes in two parts. But since I’m posting both, I think the term one-shot still applies, ne?

Disclaimer: Laruku does not belong to me. They have their real lives, real thoughts, real emotions, and there is nothing I can do to bend them to my will in said cursed real life as it is possible to do through the realm of fanfiction. And so I shamelessly take their characters, and use them in the construction of my own twisted fantasy world. It’s better this way.


Part First: To Submit

I braced myself for it, clenched every muscle in my body tight… and I waited. The rushing impact, the thud of flesh on flesh… it was coming.

My imagination supplied the images for me… feelings, sensations—even before enough time had passed in order for something, anything really, of the like to happen. The stinging sweetness of pain, the parting of folds of flesh… there would be blood, I mused silently to myself, half-dreamily, there simply had to be. I felt every drop of blood in my veins run hot with fire at the thought, and a shiver of anticipation ran along my skin, not with the cold of the chill air, but rather of dreamy anticipation.

Then I felt him collapse on me, and for a moment, it was as if everything, skin, muscles, flesh, bones… as if all of it had been stripped away and Hyde spilled against me, into me—an intimacy that I had never even imagined, not planned… and honestly never wanted.

It made me cry out, a long shuddering gasp that I couldn’t choke back. Instantly, I was jerked out of the haze of my fantasy world, and transported back into the chill that was my reality.

Hyde jerked back away from me. Yes, in my head I call him Hyde still. Not Hideto, not Doihachirou… Hyde. That’s what he’s made himself to be since I first knew him, that’s how he built himself up to be in my head. “Oh god Tet-chan?!” he gasped, hauling his body up and away from me, leaving my back cold against the sudden brisk wind. “Are you all right? Did I actually hurt you? What’s wrong?” He looked so flustered that the others, still quite concerned as to their leader’s current position sprawled against the glass (me), were nearly tempted to smile at the startled vocalist. Yes I notice things, even when dazed.

It took me a moment more in order to be able to focus on my surroundings again… the cold of the glass pane in front of me, the startled looks on my fellow band members’ faces as they turned around from their appointed places behind the revolving door… And then there was Hyde, his eyes reaching astronomical proportions as he reached down to haul me up from my position; sprawled on the cement and leaning heavily against the thick glass of the revolving door as it were. He was fussy about me when he was anxious.

I waved it away; bodily contact right now would be too much, too soon.

“Don’t feel well…” I grunted, only half-lying, hauling myself up and using the glass as leverage to force my legs (which had suddenly seemed to melt away into some useless substance like jelly) to hold up my weight. “Stomach problems I think.”

Hyde nodded slowly, his face set in a look of mild suspicion. But he let it pass (thank god), for the moment at least, and instead waved at the filming crew. “We’re taking a break!” he bellowed before I could stop him.

There was some grumbling of course, not the least of which, was coming from myself as I attempted to protest the uncalled-for break, but all were immediately silenced by Hyde’s perfected steely glare of death™ (yes even me) and I soon found myself being ushered expertly along to our waiting L’arc bus.

Because obviously we needed a bus for situations like this.

In any case, mere minutes later, I found myself with tequila in one hand, and Hyde in the othe—no, sadly that was just my imagination trying to draw me back into its devious fantasy world again. Hyde and his lithe little frame was quite content leaning against the small refrigerator in the corner of said bus. Far, far away from groping hands. Unfortunately. Oh god, what was wrong with me?

“So what’s wrong?” he inquired seriously, sipping at his own generously-poured drink.

Whether or not I thought this was a good idea while filming I did not choose to voice out loud.

Ken and Yuki had wisely chosen to stay outside to keep the raging director from barging in and being incinerated in Hyde’s unholy fury. One couldn’t wave that ring around if there wasn’t some basis in fact, could they?

Which left… the two of us. Alone. Someone up there, if there was anyone up there, had a sick sense of humor.

I slowly set the glass down on a convenient little table right beside me. Alcohol would in no way help me now. Not in this situation it wouldn’t.

“Nothing really… just feeling a little ill. We didn’t really need to stop filming you know…” I added, looking up almost reproachfully at my long-time friend.

“Is that all that’s the matter with you?”

Blast. There he was, Hyde being Hyde again. Always noticing things he shouldn’t. He noticed the worst things at the worst times, damn it.

I looked away, not daring to hold his gaze. “Yeah. That’s it.” Lies… Lies!

Gods, I hated lying to him… but… what else could I say really? I think I’m half in-love with you and want you to fuck me right here, right now, into the ground? Hmm... no. Lacked a certain sense of… class.

The words actually came out a bit curter than I intended. Hyde raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows.

I looked away, unable to hold the other man’s gaze. “That’s it.” I repeated.

“I don’t believe you.”

I didn’t turn, and I tried my best not to cringe. Hyde suspected. Oh god. Oh god. Kill me now. “I don’t really care what you believe at the moment.” I said roughly, more tired than I ever thought possible to be, trying my hardest to make the best out of a bad situation by saving face… and failing miserably while I was at it of course, cringing internally as the words left my mouth. “Just… leave me alone for a minute.”

“Why do you want me to leave so badly?” he countered, and then he allowed his voice to go low, dangerous. There were the workings of quite a fine rage being built up in the slight build of the vocalist.

I felt an anticipatory shiver run up from the base of my spine all the way up to my neck, despite myself.

What was wrong with me?

God. I threw up my hands, as if in surrender. I give up. “Ah just forget it. Let’s get back to work.”

At the very least, I could appear to be a leader who could handle anything. Even if it wasn’t true.

I moved to push roughly past the shorter man, not in the mood for gentleness. Sexual frustration at its best, I suppose. Or would it be worst?

Hyde didn’t budge. Bracing a hand against the fridge, he stood his ground, looking up the several inches (or feet) that separated us both from being eye-level. “You’re not answering me, Tet-chan. Tell… me… what’s… wrong?” He split the sentence in pieces, fragments, drawing out the words slowly, deliberately, that little half-smile on his lips both questioning and mocking at the same time.

I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to smack myself.

I wanted him to do it for me.

I could feel another shiver work its way up my spine, and I jerked away. No man’s voice should affect me like this. Not even his.

“Nothing!” I rasped, my throat suddenly dry as the Sahara. Damn it, I cursed to myself, turning round and snatching up the drink Hyde had so thoughtfully poured for me, and tossed the entirety of its contents down my throat. Damn that man and that… that voice! That goddamned insinuating voice! There were times he cursed their vocalist for those vocal chords of his.

“Let me go, we’ve got to finish filming…”

On the plus side, I’d gotten my voice back.

On the minus side, my voice was not supposed to sound so shaky.

These two factors in no way canceled each other out in my mind.

Hyde nodded, slowly, as if the anger had slowly drained out of him. “Yeah… yeah I guess we should.” But he didn’t stop staring at me, all through our trek along the busy streets of New York. I noticed of course, could always feel his eyes on the back of my head, questioning but silent.

But there was really nothing I could do about it. My first instinct was to storm off and rage in private, but seeing as Hyde would inevitably follow to ferret out the whys and wherefores, that was entirely not a viable option. Besides, we’d stopped filming once on account of me and my fucked up self, I wasn’t allowing it to happen again.

Later on, I found myself stewing in my hotel room. There was no… no plot to this PV. It was half-assed to begin with. The boys, strolling casually down the streets of New York, a knife, people being killed… me being killed… and that was it. There had to be something more to it, something that could change everything, some sort of meaning. If only I could think of something!

…Besides fucking.

That was what I was busy muttering to myself, as I sat in my hotel room, taking another swig of the bottle of Jack Daniels on my desk, bypassing the use of a glass entirely. I didn’t smoke, but it was times like these when I was almost tempted to have a…


I jumped. I literally jumped, smacking my head against the hanging bedside lamp right next to my head. It helped my temper none. “God damn it!” I yelled, slamming a fist down on his desk, sending pens scattering down onto the carpet before I could help myself. I whirled on Hyde, barefoot, shirt loose and undone, tight leather pants... and a look of utter innocence on his face. He was teasing me. Teasing me I tell you! Hyde knew quite well I did not smoke. So why was he coming in here like some sort of sex god offering me things to put in my mouth?!

“Temper, temper…” Hyde commented, as he waved the confused hotel staff away from the door, shutting it tight behind him, and suddenly his face darkened dangerously. “…After all, I’m the one who should be angry at you… not the other way around.”

I stared, quite dumbfounded by the transition. “What?

It was only then that I noticed Hyde’s eyes. I had never known that brown eyes (he hadn’t bothered to put in a pair of oddly-colored contacts it seemed) could manage to grow that hot with suppressed anger. Until now, that is.

“I’ve seen you staring at me.” He continued, not turning away, even as blood raced to my face as I flushed beneath Hyde’s accusing glare. “I’ve seen you watching when you think I’m not looking.”

Well… I didn’t even try to argue with the truth. I had hoped I’d been subtler than that about concealing my… there was no other word for it… unhealthy obsession… better than that. Obviously I had not.

Apparently Hyde had been waiting for an answer however. “Well?” he demanded impatiently, flinging the unlit cigarette aside, and stalking even closer.

I wasn’t entirely certain how I’d ended up one moment sitting at the small desk afforded me in the hotel room, and the next backed up against the wall. But I willed myself to take control of the situation. I could be the assertive one… that’s what leaders did.

“Get out.” The words managed to sound strangled even as they left my mouth, but I had enough control left to me to keep my facial muscles from cringing as I noticed.

Hyde glared at me, anger even more apparent now, stark in every curve of his face, in every line of his body. “That’s it? You’re just going to tell me to go?” he shook his head forcefully, “You can’t make me go, damn it. Not until I finish with you.”

I gulped, unsure of the mental image that readily appeared with Hyde’s tactlessly chosen words. “And what is there left to say?” I replied, wishing my voice would stop shaking! For a fleeting moment, I saw the end of L’arc~en~ciel. We had barely survived losing Sakura… we couldn’t afford to lose our vocalist too. And with that thrill of fear, came the sudden irrepressible surge of… desire.

Damn it! I decided then and there that I was well and truly fucked up. What other reason was there for getting all hot and horny over the apparent pain that my vocalist and long-time friend could give? Because Hyde looked ready to throw cautions to the wind and slug me right then and there. And I found myself wanting it.

Yes, I was quite fucked up.

I looked away, “What do you want to say?” I repeated, trying to hide my face from the imposing gaze of the visibly incensed vocalist.


Two steps. That’s all it took. And then suddenly Hyde had me pinned against the wall—a rather ridiculous picture since I was at least a foot taller as my platform shoes were still half-on my feet.

“You wanna know?” his voice was a drawl, stretching each word out, snapping the end of each taunt… the long, languorous stroke of the whip, and the inevitable crack. I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine. Gods, even when he was furious, Hyde could still manage to be sexy.

Hyde eyes smoldered even more when he seemed to think that my reaction hadn’t been the one he’d been expecting at all. “You know what?” he murmured, focusing in on my eyes, so that I was unable to look away. He made a sudden sound from his throat that sounded like disgust. “I’m not even going to say it.” He was growling now, the words low, rough, angry, sexy… I shook his head, trying to clear my thoughts into some semblance of order, sanity. Something, something besides smut!

“I don’t even have the words…”

Before I knew what had happened, I found myself picked up by the collar of my shirt and flung down against the rumpled bed (having taken a small, several-hour-long catnap earlier), smacking my head against the headboard hard enough to make me see stars. The lamp on the bedside unit went crashing to the floor. Neither of us took much notice however, as Hyde threw himself on top of my startled self already lying spread-eagled on the bed, and did nothing to soften the impact as he landed on my chest. Pain. Pain, oh god the pain. I choked as all the air left my lungs, and doubled over, trying to find air. I wasn’t allotted time enough to get over this because Hyde had caught me by the back of my head, his fingers threading themselves in my hair, and dragged me back down.

I was left gasping at the rough treatment from a long-time friend… but Hyde apparently had no notion to let me stop and think, even with that dazed look that I knew had to be in my eyes.

“You like this, don’t you?” he hissed, tearing at the front of my shirt. Buttons flew as he tore it open, too angry, or frantic to undo them properly, exposing the pale flesh. “You’re actually getting all hot and bothered about this!

He grabbed my hands, firmly anchored them above me head, pressed down hard against the headboard with one of his own hands, and he locked his mouth over that of his shocked friend (me of course), tongue—oh god that tongue—sliding over my lips; the bottom one first, then my upper, then re-focusing its attentions on lathering my bottom lip as his own mouth sucked—gently at first, then harder and harder until I couldn’t help but let out a small mewl of pain. He pulled back in satisfaction then, obviously noting the dazed look of surprised desire on my face that I did nothing to hide.

Smirking, almost as if to himself, he bent down forwards again, letting his tongue run down the side of my neck, eliciting a surprised sound from my throat. He continued downwards, working, licking, lathering my flesh with his tongue, pausing only once or twice to press his lips down against my skin in a parody of a sweet butterfly kiss when all it did was promise more, ever so much more…

He stopped at my nipple, locking his lips down on it like he had my mouth, taking it, his tongue, god that devil-fire tongue, flicking down once, twice, and I groaned. Yes… this is what I wanted… yes, yes, yes…!

Oh my god, yes!


Part Second: To Dominate

Oh god I couldn’t help it. I honestly hadn’t meant to take things so far… only to… to… I don’t even know anymore. He was always just… just… staring. I wanted him to do something about it. But… all he ever did was watch. I don’t love Tet-chan… not like he should be loved, has to be loved. I can’t do this. I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this… do this...

But gods, the feeling of him writhing like that...! The feel of his obvious erection pressed up hard against my leg, the taste of that slick saltiness of sweat on his skin—it was irresistible in a way I could never imagine. It was like tenderness had never existed, and all there was left was hunger. It was suddenly impossible to let him go.

It took every last bit of willpower I had to look up at him, see if he wanted this as much as he’d let on and I saw the most raw desire I’d ever seen of something he’d wanted for years—gods had it actually been years?—and which I had never had the audacity to give him. It was like in a split second I knew I didn’t need anything else to tell me just how much Tet-chan wanted me with finish what I’d begun…

I bit down into the skin, down into the flesh underneath. He writhed, shuddering against me, so that I had to be careful not to break the skin. The way he was moaning was near enough to drive me mad, and when he whispered so softly, so hoarsely, “Do it…!

Oh gods. It was the only thing he could do to making me lose that one edge of control entirely. That he wouldn’t be able to handle it, that he would be, at the last, against it happening. I bit down hard and I held on as he groaned, thrashing. When I pulled away, there was a perfect imprint of my teeth left haloing his nipple, several of the dents left behind already filling with blood. I couldn’t help it—perhaps all those years of wanting to be a vampire, all those horror novels had had a bad effect on me—I went down and I lapped at it, the sweet, metallic taste of his blood in my mouth, making him wince, making him moan.

I released his hands and I allowed him to let them wander over me, touching me, grabbing at the shirt I wore loosely from my shoulders and pulling it off me. And I kissed him. He responded, kissing me back as if trying to climb inside me through my mouth, his hands scrabbling at my back, learning me, learning my every line, shape, scar… and he did it all because I let him. The power of knowing that thrummed in me, knowing that if I struck him, told him to stop, he would. Everything, anything…

His need was so strong. My need was so strong. Too strong, unbearably so. I couldn’t leave the bed. I couldn’t say “That’s enough; we’re going too far…!” I wasn’t strong enough to pull my senses away from what was happening, the pants, the moans, not all of them entirely his.

With shaking hands I slipped them between our pressed bodies, yanked and fumbled with his pants, finally undoing them and yanking at them down, off his hips which he bucked upwards as if to assist me, only succeeding in pressing his erection harder up against me, and mine in him. I grasped them, pulled them down and threw them off the bed without ever breaking contact with him. His boxers followed suit moments later as Tet-chan groaned beneath me, running hands through my hair, panting as he laid kisses along my neck, along the old, old scar that had been there for most of my life and would stay there for the rest of it.

My groin hurt. It was a combination of both the pain of my arousal, as well as the hell that was tight leather pants. I would surprise myself if I ever had children. Gods. It sure as hell didn’t feel likely.

He pressed his teeth into my neck, gently, not even leaving a dent in the skin, but he worked at it, licking and sucking at the spot. Marking me. Making me his.

No. He was mine. Not the other way around. Mine. I couldn’t stop myself, wanted to bite, sinking teeth into that firm, salty flesh of his, wanted to feed on his lust, his desire. I growled, jerking myself away from him, away from his mouth, his tongue. I fumbled with the front of my pants, frenzied in my need to touch him, feel him, flesh on my flesh with nothing between us. I wanted it, needed it, and could barely concentrate on my hands as I worked at undoing them, struggling to pull them down, off my legs, off me.

It seemed like forever before I finally kicked them off, not caring if they were inside out or if they had flown clear across the room and were hanging haphazardly off one side of the mirror. I went down against him, catching his lips in another kiss, wanting more, more damn it! I hadn’t known it was possible to be so hungry to touch another person, take him, feel him writhe under me. I broke the kiss, tracking a trail of hard, bruising kisses, biting, sucking his tender flesh. I paused at his navel, dipping my tongue in for the briefest of moments, making him gasp and squirm, even as I bit down hard, giving him a ring of teeth around to match his nipple. I grasped both his arms with my hands in reluctant frustration, not wanting his hands to stop their heated journey along my body, touching, feeling, caressing, but unable to allow him to keep moving like that otherwise we’d before finished before we’d even began.

And I was not going to let him toy with me.

I continued lower, making him gasp as his dazed mind finally realized exactly what I was going to do…

I allowed myself a brief twist of my lips into an evil smirk up in his direction. Then his cock was mine, as I worked at him with lips and tongue, making him groan and thrash about wildly beneath me, which I stayed some by pressing my weight on his arms. He’d have bruises by the end of tonight. Neither of us cared overmuch at this point, for obvious reasons.

Even in the middle of his mixed growls, moans and general outcries of myriad pleasure/pain noises, he still had the ability to formulate words. I vaguely wondered in the back of my head whether this was a reflection on his willpower, or my performance.

I dearly hoped it was the former, rather than the latter. Would be a bit of a blow to my ego.

Then I realized exactly he was saying, and I couldn’t suppress the grin that passed over my face, even as I sucked, hard, tasting, touching. He was mine. Oh god, he was mine. I wouldn’t let him go now—not for anyone.

“Oh god, more. Please, more.”

He could handle more then? I’d laid his chest bloody; I could do the same to this valuable piece of flesh… but no. My tastes are not to that extreme. Neither, I assumed, was his…

Still… if he wanted more—

I allowed my teeth to scrape up along that tender, sensitive flesh, and I listened as he moaned, loudly. Oh yes he wanted this. I’d let go of his arms now, keeping them now on his hips, keeping his hips from bucking up. I was going to make it last, damn it. Oh god, the taste of him, the smell of him… the feel of him! Oh god I want him. I don’t think I’d ever wanted something so much than right now. Nothing I did could satisfy me now, not like this. My reality would not be enough, not without the taste, the feel of him that made me want to explode. I want it. I want all of this to keep on going. I couldn’t let it stop, I couldn’t let it stop.

So I kept going as his hands came up to tangle in my hair, gripping so hard it nearly hurt, but not enough for me to pull away and make him move them away. Everything was spiced well with a touch of pain after all…

I could feel it when he couldn’t force himself to obey me and hold still anymore… when he finally lost that small edge of control and bucked up wildly against my mouth and this time I didn’t try and stop him, letting my hands slide down the flesh of his buttocks, slick with sweat, gripping hard as I pulled him up against me, up off the bed, and worked at him, leaving him gasping—if he still had the capacity to breathe. I couldn’t hear, my mind, my mouth, my hands were all full of thrusting, moving flesh… the taste of salt, sweat… and suddenly, the bitter, blinding taste of his release.

He screamed. It wasn’t high-pitched like any woman I had ever had such… liaisons with. It wasn’t a yell either. It was one long, ragged exclamation as Tetsu’s roughened fingers gripped the base of my neck, crushing my face down against the long line of his body, not allowing me the choice of either spitting or swallowing.

It was not a question that needed to be asked either. The thick liquid slid down my throat, leaving the slightly bitter taste in my mouth. I could not swallow fast enough—it spilled over, slipped through the corner of my mouth and ran down to my chin. A thread of disgust slid through my thoughts, but that was quickly pushed aside when he jerked me up, strength in those arms of his that I had never known before, until I was on top of him, my own arousal ground hard against his lower belly and my lips crushing his.

He hissed as I came in contact with the bite marks on his chest, but not unpleasantly so… and it brought another growl to my throat; pleasure at the sound of his pain. I shifted upwards, bracing my weight on my arms, looking down at him.

“My turn.” I told him, smirk growing on my lips as he looked up, still breathless at me, his body still heaving, even after he was spent. I pushed backwards—I was kneeling over him. I must’ve looked a sight—hot, sweaty, hair a mess, and the evidence of his orgasm drying on my face. Most likely, if anyone had walked in at that moment, they would find me in no way attractive.

But Tetsu was looking up at me with such heat in his face, eyes… that it didn’t matter. For this one moment, it didn’t matter how messed up I looked. I was one sexy bastard. And I was going to fuck him hard, fast and long, down into that bed… and I was going to make him beg for mercy.

I followed the same trail I had tracked down his chest with my tongue earlier again, this time, ringing his other nipple with a near-identical mark with my teeth to match his others. Not caring to stop to lick at this new wound I had opened, I continued moving, smearing the blood that ran in my sweat-soaked hair, and down his chest in thin, nearly-invisible trails.

As I worked at his bleeding chest, I ran my hands down his legs, gripped them firmly, hard enough to bruise if I pressed just a little bit more, roughly shoving them upwards, nearly levitating him off the bed, though my mouth and my tongue lathering his skin with kisses and my own saliva kept this from happening as he stayed pliant—easy to pose as a doll.

A sane thought at last in all the hot, sick fantasies of my mind. No lube. I’d walked in here meaning to yell at him, possibly end up in a childish fistfight with this friend of mine over an argument that had been blown out of proportion, not seduce and fuck him silly.

I wasn’t about to ask him. Nor was I just going to stop and go hunting for something, anything. Because the minute I left, my head, my thoughts would clear, and I was not going to lose a perfectly good fuck that he’d wanted—that I’d wanted—for such a long time because of… morals. I spat into my hand. If I couldn’t get anything else, I’d work with what I have. I smeared my saliva onto my own cock. It would have to do.

Tet-chan liked it rough. I’d just see how far I could go without hurting him more than he could be hurt.

I thrust into him like that, not stopping until I’d drawn a line of white fire through him, made him cry out. I didn’t stop until I’d buried myself fully inside him, and I knew how rough I was being without lube of any sort. That was the only thing that made me pause, and allow him a moment to breathe, gasp with the pain, let it fade for just a moment.

Then I withdrew, and he gasped again, scrabbling at the edges of the bed struggling to find something to hold onto. He caught the very edges of the mattress, fisted them as best as he could with those talented fingers of his and held on as I built up a steady rhythm of my own, playing him as he would his own instrument. I couldn’t help it. I moaned too as the background sounds around us evaporated. All that was left was our own heavy breathing, the smack of flesh against flesh, and the little moan-whimpers he made every time I thrust into him and which drove me more and more insane each time they left his lips.

I saw when his cock was erect again, would have whistled in some admiration at his stamina if I weren’t in the middle of having sex with him. And when you’re having sex, there are things you do not mention until after you have fucked him into the ground. Well… that and the fact that I busy thinking of other things to do with him.

He gasped again, letting go of one of the sides of the bed to grab hold of his cock, pumping furiously at it before I snatched his hand away and slammed it back down against the bed. “None… of… that…!” I punctuated each word with an even harder and deeper thrust, making him cry out. In the back of my mind, I realized that there would be blood. But that thought was stamped down by the equally eager I don’t care!

He was moaning things now. “Oh my god…” and “Don’t do this to me,” (while scrabbling towards his own cock), being the more prominent ones amidst all the incomprehensible mutterings of a man lost in ecstasy.

I’d already waited for my pleasure… he’d just have to wait for his own.



Even with my cock buried deep in him, I still had the mind left to formulate a fiendish little plot of my own. I knew Tet-chan very, very well. And if there was one thing he hated to do…

“You’ll have to… say… please…” I told him, grinning like a madman even as he whimpered. He had that set look on his face, even while moaning and thrashing his head from side to side, he refused to do anything of the sort.


He tried to get around it, going for his cock again with his other hand, the one I had not pinned down, attempting to take advantage of my precarious position balancing over him and allow himself some sort of release (in the “heat of the moment” I’m sure).

But… that would spoil my fun.

“I’m not… going to… to…” his face screwed up with the effort of talking, as well as (most likely) to keep from screaming. “…to beg…!”

I leaned hard on the hand holding his other wrist down, bracing my weight on it, not breaking my rhythm, and snatched his hand away, smashing it (hard) against the bed. “None of that…” my voice was a growl in my throat. “My way… or nothing.”

“I… I…”

I smashed into him again, driving into him as hard as I could and he did scream.

“Say it…”

And again. And again. Flesh against flesh. My cock came out dripping now, blood and other fluids pooling and were absorbed into the sheets of the bed, stark red against the white.

Say it…” I leant over from my position between his legs, ran my tongue up his chest, long and slow, making sure to avoid contact with his cock except for the barest brush

He broke. “Oh god… please!

I grinned then, letting go of one of his wrists, keeping my balance with the other, pumping his cock with all I had while I slammed into him, looking, looking…

I pounded into his prostate even as I felt myself lose that last bit of control to think. Nothing left, incoherent thoughts, blurring together—harder, deeper, fasterfasterfaster

He came first. Sticky, white, thick fluid spurted, spilling onto his chest, covering the bite mark at his navel, flecking the two at his nipples. He clenched his entire body then, crying out at his second orgasm that night, and I cried out with him as he clenched muscles I didn’t even know existed there…

I came moments later, still buried deep inside him, collapsing over him and draping my soaked hair over his chest, sweat sliding down over me as a moan tore out of my throat without my noticing.

I pulled out of him then, crawling up higher along his long, lean body, smearing excess bodily fluids of all sorts all over me until I reached his neck and I buried my face against him, breathing in hot, deep pants. I could hear his heart pounding—or it could have been my own. We were so close I couldn’t tell anymore… and I was too dazed to even try.

I opened my eyes, and I could see him swallow, the sight of muscles moving beneath made a flicker of desire to bury my teeth there in that flesh where his pulse beat like a caged thing and taste the hot metallic taste of his blood again mixed with the faintest bitter traces still in my mouth. But the moment passed. I felt tired—my body was heavy, too heavy to move, not even to inch forwards and flick out my tongue to taste the salty sweat on his skin. My well of sadistic pleasure was dry for the moment, all I wanted to do was… was…

I felt when his breathing slowed, and I half-noticed when he rolled over, depositing me on the bed beside him… but I closed my eyes then and I couldn’t open them… not to move… not to get out of there… couldn’t think any… more…

It was near dawn when I finally opened my eyes. The sky outside the window was not dark anymore. The lights in the room were still on and I realized sometime during the night, Tetsu had pulled up the blankets that had been splayed near our legs to cover us both, the AC in the corner still humming. I disentangled my limbs from him, he moaned something under his breath and curled up into a tight little ball as I pulled the blankets back over him.

Shivering in the chill of the air-conditioned room, I swept up my pants from the floor where they’d been haphazardly tossed out of the way and strode quickly into the bathroom. A good long, hot shower later, I walked back into the room with my pants on and keeping my eyes to the floor to look for my shirt, avoiding looking at the lump in the bed, still sleeping (he loved sleeping too much, that one) and focusing solely on finding my shirt and getting out of there as soon as possible.

I snatched it up, pulled it on over my shoulders and as I looked steadfastly towards the wall, I realized I’d been standing in front of the desk Tetsu had been sitting at, staring so hard at something written on the pages scattered over the polished wood surface. I picked it up. It was the basic script for the newest PV we were in the process of making.

On one corner of it though, he’d scribbled in messy, messy kanji, Meaning, meaning, meaning!

I looked over it. Meaning? In the PV?

I read through it, read through the entire thing. What would happen while the silence ruled in that filmed world of New York and my voice and our music dominated? What sort of meaning did we want to show through this latest song?

I turned around and looked up at him then, watched him as he made another one of those little whimper-moan sounds and curled up into an even tighter ball beneath the blankets. Watched as his face scrunched up just a little, then relaxed, then repeated the process several seconds later.

Then I took up one of the pens left neatly on the side of the desk and scribbled something in English on his script. The letters were clumsy, to be expected from a man who rarely wrote in anything except Japanese. Then I looked back at him once more before shaking my head and walking out the door. There couldn’t, couldn’t be such a relationship between us while we were still fellow band members… while we were still friends…

I closed the door, padded down the carpeted hallway silently, keeping myself from making any noise, to alert any of the security posted near our rooms in case of marauding fangirls. It wouldn’t do to have them talk. They’d see the sheets, the blood and they would wonder… but I couldn’t let them know the truth. One night. That was all it was. It was all it could be!

I wasn’t like that. I couldn’t allow myself to develop any more damned feelings towards that man than I already do. I wouldn’t be able to hide it. No matter how much I could turn my eyes away from him during TV interviews, lives… it would out somehow. And we as a band, couldn’t let it out. Because I knew it wouldn’t last. I couldn’t play this part night after night after night.

And so I left.


(This is the bit I like the least...)


When I woke up, he was already gone.

Not that I hadn’t expected it. Haido-chan was smart… too smart most of the time, despite how much more often he appeared a dork. I think he knew as well as I did that we could never have kept up anything. Not for long… we knew each other too well. Our band would never survive if—no, when it ended.

I ached. I hurt. Sharp pains stabbed through me when I moved. But that thrilled me… I don’t know why. I lay back, still naked, skin growing cold as the AC continued to belch out chilled air in my direction as I thought.

I had to change something. Make everything resemble normalcy.

I got up then, ignoring the hot pain that flared up, and kept from groaning. I dragged myself to the desk, taking the blanket with me to ward off the cold (since I was entirely too far away from the AC now to shut it off—it was now on the other side of the bed) I sat down in the one chair provided me (this was a four-star hotel they say?) and proceeded to reach for my phone book.

As I did so… the papers I’d left there the other night in haphazard order caught my eye… most likely because they’d been neatly placed in a single stack in front of me. And in large, black marker, a single correction had been made—stark against the red pen scratches in my own hand.

“This knife will kill the one you love.”

I stared.

That. Was. It!!

Everything would fall into place now! The scenes… all the scenes… and…

I gulped. The last scene… where I die… where he stabs me

This knife will kill the one you love…

My hands were shaking when I reached for the phone, dialled several numbers to get in contact with several people and arrange an appearance on Utaban... as well as to arrange a special surprise guest appearance as well.


It was about a year later that Hyde married a certain Oishi Megumi. Tetsu was not present at this, much to the disappoint of his vocalist… however, that day in the midst of the celebration, he was handed a small box (he wasn’t quite sure whom as he had been slightly tipsy by that time and certainly not able to stare at anything other than his new wife for longer than a second or two).

Inside, the small knife glittered, shining as if new. Hyde stared at it, stared up at Megumi. What was Tetsu trying to pull? Dredge up old memories? Play home-wrecker so early in the game?

Then he noticed the slip of paper stuck beneath the blade and pulled it out surreptitiously (blades are sharp little buggers after all).

…unless you find the sheath. Then you will find forever.

He stared then. The other incomprehensible words that man in the old Pieces PV.... that was what he has said?

He looked up to see Megumi staring oddly at a neat little black leather object... case... that she’d just pulled out of a box, twitching it first this way and that trying to make sense of it.

He flipped the piece of paper over.

Best wishes from a best friend.

Then, in even smaller writing at the bottom, next to a nice big banana, he’d written “I can also offer you both my services free of charge should she happen to have a threesome in mind.

He had to laugh out loud. And people said he was the hentai…!

Stuffing the piece of paper in his jacket pocket, he calmly walked out his front door... to find a sheepish best friend standing there, looking distinctly left out among the formally-dressed throng in highlighter-bright t-shirt and shorts. He then proceeded to reach up, grab him by the back of the head, kiss him senseless, then drag him into the fold where his lovely wife was laughing and waiting--and even had the nerve to place a cheeky kiss of her own on Tet-chan's lips.

Perhaps such a threesome wasn't so theoretical after all...



Last post from me this day, I swear. >.<;;;

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  • Place of my own

    Someone tried to impress upon me yesterday the absolute uncoolness that was still having an LJ - but really, the only difference between the two of…

  • So this is what three years looks like

    It's funny how our lives seem to fall into a circular pattern. The day after I seriously got down to drafting FFVII fanfic again, the FFVII remake…

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