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sevenswellsTitle: Hoshi no Suna
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sevenswells
Rating: NC-17 but I'm tempted to put it NC-23 since it's extremely embarrassing for me. Argh.
(One True) Pairing: Gackt/Miyavi
Warnings: Not safe for work, yaoi, angst, alternate universe.
Word Count: 3740 w., holy shit! O.O
Comments: I'm sorry, I'm no good at writing sex; please be indulgent. I'm sorry.
Dedicated to ever-indulgentkamexkame , who generously volunteered to translate most of this thang for me: thank you so much, you are ever-loved.
Also dedicated tosupacat on holidays, and I'm soooo crossing my fingers right now, hoping that she will update Mirror when she comes back. So, this chapter is also like, an offering to the gods or something (it mightn't be good, but it's still a sex chapter, so the offering is subsequent enough, isn't it, gods? *deep silence and howling wind* Anyone?).
Also also dedicated tothin_lipid who got this whole thing started. I hope you're doing better and I wanted to tell you I'm taking my time to compose that music suggestions e-mail, which you shall receive in no time. Hang in there! >.<
Also also also dedicated todiac because I keep my promises, right? ^^ And to velvetgunfire who is the sweetest girl ever. And to mattiezumi who keeps making me laugh with her adorable general craziness. And to ayuzak whose comments are Willy Wonka everlasting candies.
I love you all. You people are marvellous. <3
He wasn't paying me the slightest bit of attention. Seated only a few centimeters from him on the backseat of a Mercedes, he managed to make me feel in a remote galaxy, far removed from the contingencies of planet Earth:
-Fire the idiot who fucked feedback up: I was off-key on Vanilla, at take up, and I couldn't hear a quarter of what I was singing.
-Sachiko? Send flowers to the girl in hospital. You may eventually let this info filter through, but I shan't be answering any interview.
-Camui Gackt. Yes, thank you. No, tomorrow. Mmmh. Hmm. No, I will not reconsider. Hm. My respects.
-Sachiko? Me again. Book me an appointment with Hanajima for tomorrow, in the afternoon.
It wasn't stopping and I was bored stiff.
As soon as we'd left the changing room, he'd become silent and, watching him, you couldn't tell what it was he was thinking about: his delicately sculpted features expressed nothing. Later, I would learn to be wary of this type of non-expression: it actually announced intense calculation, losing itself into conjecture and intrication, taking into account input and unknowns as ethereal and subtle as collective unconscious, subway schedule hours, changes in atmospheric pressure, Stock Exchange fluctuations, dieting tips from women's magazines, gadgets, fashion, hit songs, top tens. From time to time, while he dialed numbers and waited for somebody to answer, he threw me a glance or two, but clearly his eyes saw something else, beyond me. As for me, I only dared stare at him when he wasn't looking my way. It was surreal to me to have him this close, at my level, after having seen him from afar, perched upon a stage and lit up by spotlights. I might even touch him, should I want to. I, probably, only needed to jut my knee forward and I'd touch his thigh, or else pretend to stretch out and my arm would enter into - accidental - contact with his body. But I didn't move one millimetre, prostrated and sunken into the leather of the seat; maybe I was scared he would vanish into smoke if I tried to verify his existence , or I myself might have disappeared... It was just as well, all things considered, that he did not speak to me; it gave me time to rearrange my neurons into place and to get used to the idea that he was human like I was. First, I had to calm down. Think of my everyday life, of something tangible, something comforting, Takeshi I thought then, and my stomach squirmed. Ah yes, Takeshi. I hadn't seen him in nearly four days. The worse being that I didn't miss him. Tokyo had made me grow up radically by teaching me that Takeshi was a country bumpkin amongst others, rock'n'roll, States, piercing or not, and that I deserved better. It was pobably thanks to this that I had found the courage to speak up, in the changing room and to affirm myself with such gall. And now that Gackt himself had said :" ...the little cutie's coming with me", I wanted to gobble up the capital, to subject its inhabitants: I was Godzilla and I was going to destroy everything on my path. I smiled while watching the blurry Tokyoite buildings flash by through the misted up window as I imagined me, giant and spitting flames over them, and I'd bend down once in a while to swallow salarymen in disarray attempting to escape my ire. I made a grimace which unveiled all of my teeth and laughed soundlessly. Maybe I hadn't grown up all that much, after all. Inside the car, a brutal awareness of the silence brought me back to reality. All of a sudden, I realised that his voice hadn't resounded in a good while. In my boredom, I had relegated it to the background of sounds, but now, the phonetalks had stopped and I felt his eyes upon me. The second I turned, shivering, he was onto me, smashing his lips against mine, drawing me to him and making me lose my balance. His hand went straight for my crotch and began rubbing, while his tongue penetrated my mouth and stimulated the roof of it. Once I'd understood what was happening to me, I undertook, out of reflex, to stroke him in return, but my trembling hands met only with emptiness; my body was no longer mine.
When my cock tensed uncomfortably into the fabric keeping it warm and his hand confirmed this to him, he pushed me away to the side and squared himself into his seat, unwrinkling his pants which weren't wrinkled in the least. I felt like I'd been hit by a train and I was horny, as hell.
-Rule number one, he murmured, and it seemed to me that I was only now hearing his actual voice for the first time, you shall devote your undivided attention to me, all the time. I am now your universe, your respiration shall copy mine, the least little bat of your eyelashes shall first be submitted to my approval. You're forbidden from thinking of other things in my presence, whatever I might be doing, whether you feel involved or not. Out.
The car had stopped, I hadn't even noticed. Docile because a bit dazed, I opened the door and got hit right in the face by the rain which had begun falling shortly after our exit from the stadium. The huge white building of a prestigious hotel that the blackness of the nightsky had gleaming in a strange way stood before me.
The bodyguards let us enter the suite after having verified that everything was in order inside, and when Gackt gave them the evening off, it may have been my paranoia which made me hear a snicker coming from them, hardly audible.
The suite revealed itself to be immense : it was a penthouse decorated western-style and offering, through the glass bay going from one end to the other of the main room, a breathtaking view of Tokyo. But the view was the least of my worries: now, I was alone with him and the room would never be vast enough for me to escape him.
He nonchalantly settled on a couch, sprawled his long legs in front of him, took his jacket off, folding it with care and placing it aside on a table along with his cufflinks, undid his tie and the first few buttons of his collar and finally fixed his stare on me. It really was me he was looking at this time, without calculation: he was appraising me with appreciation, taking his time, lids half-mast as though they could barely support the weight of his long eyelashes. I had remained standing, hypnotised by his gestures. The silence stretched another long moment before he broke it:
-Take off your clothes.
Of course. That was why he had brought me with him. What a fool! What had I been thinking by following him after having told him I was ready to sell myself? I hadn't pushed him away in the car, but what had I been thinking? So, he attracted me. So much I practically had to keep myself from salivating and, although diminished, my erection stil hadn't left me. I wasn't any holier-than-thou virgin: as Takeshi might attest, I put my all, wholeheartedly, into the blow-jobs I gave him. But the prospect, now terribly real, of sleeping with Gackt, suddenly terrified me. Everything had gone much too fast, and the effects of the shot of endorphines I had received at the stadium were dissipating : I was currently in the midst of a bad trip. However, going backwards at this point scared me equally, or more. What was I supposed to say? "Time out, let's stop here and play scrabble!"? Fuck, I didn't know him! I had followed him like a fucking fanboy without thinking about the consequences for a single second: what if he had bizarre sexual preferences? I might not be holier-than-thou but I wasn't into gore or scatological stuff. And what about AIDS? Okay, that wasn't so likely, if he'd caught something like that word would've got out. But what if it were recent and he himself didn't know? If he was into the habit of doing groupies after each concert, God knew what he could be carrying right now...
There was a clearing of his throat to signify to me that he was starting to lose patience and I immediately knelt to take my boots off. My numbed fingers finally managed to untie my laces after a few fruitless attempts which had me reddening up to my ears - what kind of dumbass had invented this shit? Feeling as ridiculous as could be, I quickly pulled off my T-shirt over my head. It fell at my bare feet with a sloshy noise and was soon joined by my baggy jeans which I'd unzipped in a hurry. I found myself facing Gackt, completely naked, my face on fire after my clumsy strip tease, still relieved in spite of all this to have freed my sex. He had a benevolent smile and signaled for me to come closer. I took a few steps forward only to end up brutally stopping and stupidly remain standing beside him: what was it I must do? Sit next to him? Yeah right, like some schoolgirl next to her sweetheart on a public bench? What, then? Kneel down and directly attack at his zipper? He solved my dilemma by taping his thigh: he wanted me on his lap. Oh, shit. And I sat down any way I could; anxious at the thought of being too heavy for him I tried to transfer my weight onto my legs which were still on the ground: not very comfortable but better than crushing him. Unfortunately, he lifted my legs to place them onto the couch and I had to hang my arms around his neck in order not to lose my balance. Dying of shame, I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing his smell in fully: a synthetic scent, cosmetic, probably his make-up remover and, when inhaling deeper, a clean scent, of soap, something a bit more human, more mundane, which reassured me. He had a soft laugh and murmured:
-You're tickling, it's like I've picked up a stray dog in the rain.
The comparison didn't flatter me much, but he brushed a lock away with the tip of his fingers and planted a kiss upon my forehead.
-What are you called?
-Miyabi.
-Mmmh, pretty, but it won't do, said he while continuing to kiss my forehead, and my eyelids, which made me yearn. We'll need to change that, too.
What did he mean, "that too'"? Change? The question, important as it might be, vanished from my foggy brain when he lifted my chin to kiss my throat. I shivered and moved my pelvis slightly. He nibbled my ear: I let out a sigh, half-moaning, my hands pressed themselves harder into his back , and the rest of my body glued itself lasciviously to his. He placed his hand on my nape and brought my lips to his in a kiss that was extremely gentle; I felt his fingers encircle my cock; he moved them slowly to and fro. My erection was ready, set, going once more.
-I like that. I like your lips. I like your hand on my cock, I whispered, feeling whorish, when he broke the contact of the kiss to examine my face. His smile stretched.
He licked and nibbled at the tender skin between my jaw and earlobe while intensifying his strokes. His hand knew exactly how to touch me and his tongue drove me wild: I hung onto him desperately, whining in spite of myself, like a girl. I felt his erection underneath my own thigh, I wanted... It was obscene, his still being fully-clothed, I wanted his skin against mine, to rub myself against him like an animal in heat; his hand slid faster and faster onto my rigid cock, dripping with seminal liquid. Orgasm was coming to the boil inside my belly, gradually rising, but as I was about to come, an instinctive fear hit me.
I pushed him away violently and found myself up on my legs, which were still framing my painful erection. A few pearly drops of sperm had appeared at its tip already. For the second time that evening, he stared at me in stupefaction.
-So...Sorr...., I panted, and then, seeing the bathroom, I ran to it and locked myself within. The wood of the door against my back and the cool linoleum under my feet calmed me down somewhat, but my heart was still furiously beating inside my chest.
-Okay. Why the fuck did I do that? I sighed in a low voice, but I already knew the answer.
All this had gotten way too intense for me, and I'd gotten scared of losing control. The brutality of my reaction had surprised me as much as it had him, but to his eyes, I had probably committed the irreparable. How was I going to show myself before him again? The more I would have kept him waiting, the less chances I would have of making myself forgiven, and I was going to have to get out of this goddamn bathroom someday. I cooked up the stupid plan of waiting for him to go to sleep to flee on the sly, but that didn't make sense, and I'd look awfully stupid if he caught me escaping.
I caught my own eye in the mirror,: the dark hair falling here and there around my face emphasized the color of my lips and cheeks, reddened by excitation, and my eyes with their dilated pupils gleamed feverishly. It ocurred to me that I could be sexy, when I wanted to be; perhaps, after all, I could make myself forgiven.
I reopened the door and reappeared before him with my most sheepish expression.
He had stood up and was considering me coldly.
-Could you tell me what you're playing at?
The line of his jaw had tensed. I was incapable of answering.
-I'm disappointed. I was mistaken, and so were you. You may gather your things and go home.
-No! I shouted immediately, imploring. I'm not playing at anything, I don't know what came over me. Let me have another chance, I'll do...
-Anything I want? he went on in my stead.
I regretted my words but I didn't have a choice. I followed him to the bedroom, where he indicated the bed:
-Lie down and take care of it, by yourself. Try and convince me.
I climbed on the bed, on all fours, without tearing my eyes away from his and then, balanced on one hand, I began masturbating under his stare. I first grazed my sex softly, with the inside of my palm. I was much too excited and the slightest contact might hurt, I had rather be careful.
In a mood to play around with me, he mimicked a loud yawn. My cock was so sensitive that I couldn't afford to tease it any longer: I needed to release myself fast. Without further ado, I got up on my knees and stroked it fully, fast. This way I almost didn't feel pain anymore and the heat was back in my belly, I was nearly there, but at the last moment, he grabbed my hand and kept it away. By reflex, desperately wanting my orgasm, I attempted to keep going with my left hand, but he seized it too, with his other hand. I tried to struggle, uselessly, his grip was inflexible. I was sorely tried, on the verge of tears, I wanted to come so damn much; I tried to speak but instead a sob escaped my mouth.
He kissed my cheekbone where a single tear had rolled, and said:
-I resent my finding you this cute, it's a weakness on my part. It makes me want to be mean to you.
He pressed his mouth to mine then all of a sudden bit into my bottom lip. The shock made me jump.
-Keep in mind that I alone decide when you come...
He threw a satisfied glance to my crotch, shaken by the nervous trembling of my pelvis:
-...or don't.
My nerves were aleady raw after such a chaotic start to the evening and the series of interrupted orgasms; this last sentence put me beside myself:
-Go fuck yourself! I shouted, struggling, furious. It was all in vain, though, I only succeeded in hurting my wrists. Go fuck your mother!
Indifferent to my kicking, he knelt beside the bed and made me lie down with disconcerting ease, my arms held into place on both sides of my head.
-Shhh, let me take care of you. You don't want to piss me off any more, do you?
He suckled one of my nipples with such strength it wreathed a cry out of me.
-There, there, I'll let you go and make you come, that ought to calm you down.
He released one of my fists and his free hand slid from my belly to my cock to take up from where I had stopped a few minutes earlier. It annoyed the hell out of me that he spoke to me as to a boisterous child, but when he grabbed hold of my dick again to jerk me off, I felt deliriously grateful:
-Yes... oh yes, please I beg you please, don't stop, don't stop! Please, please...
I went on with my plaintive and incoherent chant whilst he released his hold on my other wrist and licked at my chest. I came fast, and my ill-treated cock spurted a flood of sperm upon his hand and my upper thighs. I realized that, during ejaculation, I had sunk my fingers into his hair, and when I came to, still shaking with spasms, I was still stroking. I withdrew my hands from there immediatly.
-You're really too cute, he said, getting up. My gesture hadn't escaped his notice. Let's see, what can we do with this now...
He considered his right hand, full of my cum.
I was too devastated to contemplate even the remote possibility of doing it again. I started to say something but, without warning, he lifted up my thighs and stroked the inside of my butt, smearing my hole with the cooling sperm. Then he coated his index and middle finger with saliva and before I even had the time to protest, he made one penetrate, followed by the other, and he moved them around inside. I clenched my teeth so as not to give him the pleasure of hearing me cry, having humiliated myself by begging already; however my body was more inclined to compromise than I was and, as soon as he touched my sensitive spot, my prick got up, as high as it would go, as if the fun was just barely getting started. Having obtained the desired effect, he took his fingers out and went to open a drawer in the night table. He got out condoms and a tube that looked like it had been opened before; then he took off his shirt, revealing a statue-like chest, unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, from which he drew his sex, excited and red. Ripping the wrapping with his teeth, he pulled a condom on his hardened length and came back to me. I didn't move a single hair; I had been quietly waiting, petrified, arms resting on both sides of my body: I was resigned by then. I tried, nonetheless, without much hope, to dissuade him:
-I don't like it. Being penetrated, I mean. Maybe we could just keep it at...
He wasn't listening, busy as he was spreading lubricant on the latex. He also poured some on his thumb and rubbed at my hole with it, then he lifted me upwards using my knees. He stuffed a bit of the bed sheet into my mouth and declared:
-Bite it down, it's likely going to hurt; sorry, I'm not stopping to suit you anymore.
And screwed me right away, pushing all of himself inside.
Stars of pain exploded in front of my eyes: it was lucky I had the sheet to bite on, otherwise it would have been my tongue. He entered me sometimes with long strokes, sometimes repeatingly banging my ass, his nails digging in the flesh of my cheeks; he, too, must be losing his religion. He came with a short moan and withdrew almost immediately, leaving me open, twitching, slowly recontracting. A few seconds, time for him to catch his breath and he pushed his fingers in again, three at once. His middle finger found my prostate and stroked intensely; I shouted when orgasm hit me and I ejaculated shaking uncontrollably.
He took out his fingers with a suction noise. I curled up sideways and circled my knees with my arms to stop my body from trembling. I felt him at the back of me sitting on the edge of the bed; there was a sound of wood rubbing against wood, he must be looking for something else in the drawer. I was afraid for a little while that it might be a sex toy or a weird thing, but the clicking sound of a lighter and the smell of tobacco smoke that spread a few seconds later reassured me.
-Want some? he offered.
I rolled over and half-rose on my elbows. I took the cigarette from his fingers and drew a puff that I let out through my nostrils; I took another one quickly before handing it back to him and collapsing on my belly, face turned to him. He gazed pensively at my body, covered with sweat, while smoking.
-You're a bit... rustic, but we might make something out of you.
That last comment hit much too close to home to let it slide easily. I raised myself again on my elbows and retorted with all the insolence and ferocity I was capable of:
-Now that you fucked my ass, let's get intimate and share, shall we? Tell me: just how much plastic surgery have you had exactly?
He had a brief smile before he put out his burning stub upon the small of my back.
Author:
sevenswells Rating: NC-17 but I'm tempted to put it NC-23 since it's extremely embarrassing for me. Argh.
(One True) Pairing: Gackt/Miyavi
Warnings: Not safe for work, yaoi, angst, alternate universe.
Word Count: 3740 w., holy shit! O.O
Comments: I'm sorry, I'm no good at writing sex; please be indulgent. I'm sorry.
Dedicated to ever-indulgent
kamexkame , who generously volunteered to translate most of this thang for me: thank you so much, you are ever-loved.Also dedicated to
supacat on holidays, and I'm soooo crossing my fingers right now, hoping that she will update Mirror when she comes back. So, this chapter is also like, an offering to the gods or something (it mightn't be good, but it's still a sex chapter, so the offering is subsequent enough, isn't it, gods? *deep silence and howling wind* Anyone?).Also also dedicated to
thin_lipid who got this whole thing started. I hope you're doing better and I wanted to tell you I'm taking my time to compose that music suggestions e-mail, which you shall receive in no time. Hang in there! >.<Also also also dedicated to
diac because I keep my promises, right? ^^ And to velvetgunfire who is the sweetest girl ever. And to mattiezumi who keeps making me laugh with her adorable general craziness. And to ayuzak whose comments are Willy Wonka everlasting candies.I love you all. You people are marvellous. <3
He wasn't paying me the slightest bit of attention. Seated only a few centimeters from him on the backseat of a Mercedes, he managed to make me feel in a remote galaxy, far removed from the contingencies of planet Earth:
-Fire the idiot who fucked feedback up: I was off-key on Vanilla, at take up, and I couldn't hear a quarter of what I was singing.
-Sachiko? Send flowers to the girl in hospital. You may eventually let this info filter through, but I shan't be answering any interview.
-Camui Gackt. Yes, thank you. No, tomorrow. Mmmh. Hmm. No, I will not reconsider. Hm. My respects.
-Sachiko? Me again. Book me an appointment with Hanajima for tomorrow, in the afternoon.
It wasn't stopping and I was bored stiff.
As soon as we'd left the changing room, he'd become silent and, watching him, you couldn't tell what it was he was thinking about: his delicately sculpted features expressed nothing. Later, I would learn to be wary of this type of non-expression: it actually announced intense calculation, losing itself into conjecture and intrication, taking into account input and unknowns as ethereal and subtle as collective unconscious, subway schedule hours, changes in atmospheric pressure, Stock Exchange fluctuations, dieting tips from women's magazines, gadgets, fashion, hit songs, top tens. From time to time, while he dialed numbers and waited for somebody to answer, he threw me a glance or two, but clearly his eyes saw something else, beyond me. As for me, I only dared stare at him when he wasn't looking my way. It was surreal to me to have him this close, at my level, after having seen him from afar, perched upon a stage and lit up by spotlights. I might even touch him, should I want to. I, probably, only needed to jut my knee forward and I'd touch his thigh, or else pretend to stretch out and my arm would enter into - accidental - contact with his body. But I didn't move one millimetre, prostrated and sunken into the leather of the seat; maybe I was scared he would vanish into smoke if I tried to verify his existence , or I myself might have disappeared... It was just as well, all things considered, that he did not speak to me; it gave me time to rearrange my neurons into place and to get used to the idea that he was human like I was. First, I had to calm down. Think of my everyday life, of something tangible, something comforting, Takeshi I thought then, and my stomach squirmed. Ah yes, Takeshi. I hadn't seen him in nearly four days. The worse being that I didn't miss him. Tokyo had made me grow up radically by teaching me that Takeshi was a country bumpkin amongst others, rock'n'roll, States, piercing or not, and that I deserved better. It was pobably thanks to this that I had found the courage to speak up, in the changing room and to affirm myself with such gall. And now that Gackt himself had said :" ...the little cutie's coming with me", I wanted to gobble up the capital, to subject its inhabitants: I was Godzilla and I was going to destroy everything on my path. I smiled while watching the blurry Tokyoite buildings flash by through the misted up window as I imagined me, giant and spitting flames over them, and I'd bend down once in a while to swallow salarymen in disarray attempting to escape my ire. I made a grimace which unveiled all of my teeth and laughed soundlessly. Maybe I hadn't grown up all that much, after all. Inside the car, a brutal awareness of the silence brought me back to reality. All of a sudden, I realised that his voice hadn't resounded in a good while. In my boredom, I had relegated it to the background of sounds, but now, the phonetalks had stopped and I felt his eyes upon me. The second I turned, shivering, he was onto me, smashing his lips against mine, drawing me to him and making me lose my balance. His hand went straight for my crotch and began rubbing, while his tongue penetrated my mouth and stimulated the roof of it. Once I'd understood what was happening to me, I undertook, out of reflex, to stroke him in return, but my trembling hands met only with emptiness; my body was no longer mine.
When my cock tensed uncomfortably into the fabric keeping it warm and his hand confirmed this to him, he pushed me away to the side and squared himself into his seat, unwrinkling his pants which weren't wrinkled in the least. I felt like I'd been hit by a train and I was horny, as hell.
-Rule number one, he murmured, and it seemed to me that I was only now hearing his actual voice for the first time, you shall devote your undivided attention to me, all the time. I am now your universe, your respiration shall copy mine, the least little bat of your eyelashes shall first be submitted to my approval. You're forbidden from thinking of other things in my presence, whatever I might be doing, whether you feel involved or not. Out.
The car had stopped, I hadn't even noticed. Docile because a bit dazed, I opened the door and got hit right in the face by the rain which had begun falling shortly after our exit from the stadium. The huge white building of a prestigious hotel that the blackness of the nightsky had gleaming in a strange way stood before me.
The bodyguards let us enter the suite after having verified that everything was in order inside, and when Gackt gave them the evening off, it may have been my paranoia which made me hear a snicker coming from them, hardly audible.
The suite revealed itself to be immense : it was a penthouse decorated western-style and offering, through the glass bay going from one end to the other of the main room, a breathtaking view of Tokyo. But the view was the least of my worries: now, I was alone with him and the room would never be vast enough for me to escape him.
He nonchalantly settled on a couch, sprawled his long legs in front of him, took his jacket off, folding it with care and placing it aside on a table along with his cufflinks, undid his tie and the first few buttons of his collar and finally fixed his stare on me. It really was me he was looking at this time, without calculation: he was appraising me with appreciation, taking his time, lids half-mast as though they could barely support the weight of his long eyelashes. I had remained standing, hypnotised by his gestures. The silence stretched another long moment before he broke it:
-Take off your clothes.
Of course. That was why he had brought me with him. What a fool! What had I been thinking by following him after having told him I was ready to sell myself? I hadn't pushed him away in the car, but what had I been thinking? So, he attracted me. So much I practically had to keep myself from salivating and, although diminished, my erection stil hadn't left me. I wasn't any holier-than-thou virgin: as Takeshi might attest, I put my all, wholeheartedly, into the blow-jobs I gave him. But the prospect, now terribly real, of sleeping with Gackt, suddenly terrified me. Everything had gone much too fast, and the effects of the shot of endorphines I had received at the stadium were dissipating : I was currently in the midst of a bad trip. However, going backwards at this point scared me equally, or more. What was I supposed to say? "Time out, let's stop here and play scrabble!"? Fuck, I didn't know him! I had followed him like a fucking fanboy without thinking about the consequences for a single second: what if he had bizarre sexual preferences? I might not be holier-than-thou but I wasn't into gore or scatological stuff. And what about AIDS? Okay, that wasn't so likely, if he'd caught something like that word would've got out. But what if it were recent and he himself didn't know? If he was into the habit of doing groupies after each concert, God knew what he could be carrying right now...
There was a clearing of his throat to signify to me that he was starting to lose patience and I immediately knelt to take my boots off. My numbed fingers finally managed to untie my laces after a few fruitless attempts which had me reddening up to my ears - what kind of dumbass had invented this shit? Feeling as ridiculous as could be, I quickly pulled off my T-shirt over my head. It fell at my bare feet with a sloshy noise and was soon joined by my baggy jeans which I'd unzipped in a hurry. I found myself facing Gackt, completely naked, my face on fire after my clumsy strip tease, still relieved in spite of all this to have freed my sex. He had a benevolent smile and signaled for me to come closer. I took a few steps forward only to end up brutally stopping and stupidly remain standing beside him: what was it I must do? Sit next to him? Yeah right, like some schoolgirl next to her sweetheart on a public bench? What, then? Kneel down and directly attack at his zipper? He solved my dilemma by taping his thigh: he wanted me on his lap. Oh, shit. And I sat down any way I could; anxious at the thought of being too heavy for him I tried to transfer my weight onto my legs which were still on the ground: not very comfortable but better than crushing him. Unfortunately, he lifted my legs to place them onto the couch and I had to hang my arms around his neck in order not to lose my balance. Dying of shame, I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing his smell in fully: a synthetic scent, cosmetic, probably his make-up remover and, when inhaling deeper, a clean scent, of soap, something a bit more human, more mundane, which reassured me. He had a soft laugh and murmured:
-You're tickling, it's like I've picked up a stray dog in the rain.
The comparison didn't flatter me much, but he brushed a lock away with the tip of his fingers and planted a kiss upon my forehead.
-What are you called?
-Miyabi.
-Mmmh, pretty, but it won't do, said he while continuing to kiss my forehead, and my eyelids, which made me yearn. We'll need to change that, too.
What did he mean, "that too'"? Change? The question, important as it might be, vanished from my foggy brain when he lifted my chin to kiss my throat. I shivered and moved my pelvis slightly. He nibbled my ear: I let out a sigh, half-moaning, my hands pressed themselves harder into his back , and the rest of my body glued itself lasciviously to his. He placed his hand on my nape and brought my lips to his in a kiss that was extremely gentle; I felt his fingers encircle my cock; he moved them slowly to and fro. My erection was ready, set, going once more.
-I like that. I like your lips. I like your hand on my cock, I whispered, feeling whorish, when he broke the contact of the kiss to examine my face. His smile stretched.
He licked and nibbled at the tender skin between my jaw and earlobe while intensifying his strokes. His hand knew exactly how to touch me and his tongue drove me wild: I hung onto him desperately, whining in spite of myself, like a girl. I felt his erection underneath my own thigh, I wanted... It was obscene, his still being fully-clothed, I wanted his skin against mine, to rub myself against him like an animal in heat; his hand slid faster and faster onto my rigid cock, dripping with seminal liquid. Orgasm was coming to the boil inside my belly, gradually rising, but as I was about to come, an instinctive fear hit me.
I pushed him away violently and found myself up on my legs, which were still framing my painful erection. A few pearly drops of sperm had appeared at its tip already. For the second time that evening, he stared at me in stupefaction.
-So...Sorr...., I panted, and then, seeing the bathroom, I ran to it and locked myself within. The wood of the door against my back and the cool linoleum under my feet calmed me down somewhat, but my heart was still furiously beating inside my chest.
-Okay. Why the fuck did I do that? I sighed in a low voice, but I already knew the answer.
All this had gotten way too intense for me, and I'd gotten scared of losing control. The brutality of my reaction had surprised me as much as it had him, but to his eyes, I had probably committed the irreparable. How was I going to show myself before him again? The more I would have kept him waiting, the less chances I would have of making myself forgiven, and I was going to have to get out of this goddamn bathroom someday. I cooked up the stupid plan of waiting for him to go to sleep to flee on the sly, but that didn't make sense, and I'd look awfully stupid if he caught me escaping.
I caught my own eye in the mirror,: the dark hair falling here and there around my face emphasized the color of my lips and cheeks, reddened by excitation, and my eyes with their dilated pupils gleamed feverishly. It ocurred to me that I could be sexy, when I wanted to be; perhaps, after all, I could make myself forgiven.
I reopened the door and reappeared before him with my most sheepish expression.
He had stood up and was considering me coldly.
-Could you tell me what you're playing at?
The line of his jaw had tensed. I was incapable of answering.
-I'm disappointed. I was mistaken, and so were you. You may gather your things and go home.
-No! I shouted immediately, imploring. I'm not playing at anything, I don't know what came over me. Let me have another chance, I'll do...
-Anything I want? he went on in my stead.
I regretted my words but I didn't have a choice. I followed him to the bedroom, where he indicated the bed:
-Lie down and take care of it, by yourself. Try and convince me.
I climbed on the bed, on all fours, without tearing my eyes away from his and then, balanced on one hand, I began masturbating under his stare. I first grazed my sex softly, with the inside of my palm. I was much too excited and the slightest contact might hurt, I had rather be careful.
In a mood to play around with me, he mimicked a loud yawn. My cock was so sensitive that I couldn't afford to tease it any longer: I needed to release myself fast. Without further ado, I got up on my knees and stroked it fully, fast. This way I almost didn't feel pain anymore and the heat was back in my belly, I was nearly there, but at the last moment, he grabbed my hand and kept it away. By reflex, desperately wanting my orgasm, I attempted to keep going with my left hand, but he seized it too, with his other hand. I tried to struggle, uselessly, his grip was inflexible. I was sorely tried, on the verge of tears, I wanted to come so damn much; I tried to speak but instead a sob escaped my mouth.
He kissed my cheekbone where a single tear had rolled, and said:
-I resent my finding you this cute, it's a weakness on my part. It makes me want to be mean to you.
He pressed his mouth to mine then all of a sudden bit into my bottom lip. The shock made me jump.
-Keep in mind that I alone decide when you come...
He threw a satisfied glance to my crotch, shaken by the nervous trembling of my pelvis:
-...or don't.
My nerves were aleady raw after such a chaotic start to the evening and the series of interrupted orgasms; this last sentence put me beside myself:
-Go fuck yourself! I shouted, struggling, furious. It was all in vain, though, I only succeeded in hurting my wrists. Go fuck your mother!
Indifferent to my kicking, he knelt beside the bed and made me lie down with disconcerting ease, my arms held into place on both sides of my head.
-Shhh, let me take care of you. You don't want to piss me off any more, do you?
He suckled one of my nipples with such strength it wreathed a cry out of me.
-There, there, I'll let you go and make you come, that ought to calm you down.
He released one of my fists and his free hand slid from my belly to my cock to take up from where I had stopped a few minutes earlier. It annoyed the hell out of me that he spoke to me as to a boisterous child, but when he grabbed hold of my dick again to jerk me off, I felt deliriously grateful:
-Yes... oh yes, please I beg you please, don't stop, don't stop! Please, please...
I went on with my plaintive and incoherent chant whilst he released his hold on my other wrist and licked at my chest. I came fast, and my ill-treated cock spurted a flood of sperm upon his hand and my upper thighs. I realized that, during ejaculation, I had sunk my fingers into his hair, and when I came to, still shaking with spasms, I was still stroking. I withdrew my hands from there immediatly.
-You're really too cute, he said, getting up. My gesture hadn't escaped his notice. Let's see, what can we do with this now...
He considered his right hand, full of my cum.
I was too devastated to contemplate even the remote possibility of doing it again. I started to say something but, without warning, he lifted up my thighs and stroked the inside of my butt, smearing my hole with the cooling sperm. Then he coated his index and middle finger with saliva and before I even had the time to protest, he made one penetrate, followed by the other, and he moved them around inside. I clenched my teeth so as not to give him the pleasure of hearing me cry, having humiliated myself by begging already; however my body was more inclined to compromise than I was and, as soon as he touched my sensitive spot, my prick got up, as high as it would go, as if the fun was just barely getting started. Having obtained the desired effect, he took his fingers out and went to open a drawer in the night table. He got out condoms and a tube that looked like it had been opened before; then he took off his shirt, revealing a statue-like chest, unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, from which he drew his sex, excited and red. Ripping the wrapping with his teeth, he pulled a condom on his hardened length and came back to me. I didn't move a single hair; I had been quietly waiting, petrified, arms resting on both sides of my body: I was resigned by then. I tried, nonetheless, without much hope, to dissuade him:
-I don't like it. Being penetrated, I mean. Maybe we could just keep it at...
He wasn't listening, busy as he was spreading lubricant on the latex. He also poured some on his thumb and rubbed at my hole with it, then he lifted me upwards using my knees. He stuffed a bit of the bed sheet into my mouth and declared:
-Bite it down, it's likely going to hurt; sorry, I'm not stopping to suit you anymore.
And screwed me right away, pushing all of himself inside.
Stars of pain exploded in front of my eyes: it was lucky I had the sheet to bite on, otherwise it would have been my tongue. He entered me sometimes with long strokes, sometimes repeatingly banging my ass, his nails digging in the flesh of my cheeks; he, too, must be losing his religion. He came with a short moan and withdrew almost immediately, leaving me open, twitching, slowly recontracting. A few seconds, time for him to catch his breath and he pushed his fingers in again, three at once. His middle finger found my prostate and stroked intensely; I shouted when orgasm hit me and I ejaculated shaking uncontrollably.
He took out his fingers with a suction noise. I curled up sideways and circled my knees with my arms to stop my body from trembling. I felt him at the back of me sitting on the edge of the bed; there was a sound of wood rubbing against wood, he must be looking for something else in the drawer. I was afraid for a little while that it might be a sex toy or a weird thing, but the clicking sound of a lighter and the smell of tobacco smoke that spread a few seconds later reassured me.
-Want some? he offered.
I rolled over and half-rose on my elbows. I took the cigarette from his fingers and drew a puff that I let out through my nostrils; I took another one quickly before handing it back to him and collapsing on my belly, face turned to him. He gazed pensively at my body, covered with sweat, while smoking.
-You're a bit... rustic, but we might make something out of you.
That last comment hit much too close to home to let it slide easily. I raised myself again on my elbows and retorted with all the insolence and ferocity I was capable of:
-Now that you fucked my ass, let's get intimate and share, shall we? Tell me: just how much plastic surgery have you had exactly?
He had a brief smile before he put out his burning stub upon the small of my back.
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Date: 2008-03-29 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-29 08:00 pm (UTC)It's pretty simple really. I'm a muse, so I'm not really real in... well, real life! XD But I do have actual emotions, much to thin_lipid's displeasure.
One of her other muses gave her night terrors! :O!