Swirls of Color - Miyavi/Reita
Title: Swirls of Color
Author: Kagome
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Miyavi (solo, S.K.I.N.)/Reita (the GazettE)
Warnings: Sap, suggestiveness, AU (RP-based)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: Rain interrupts the artists’ work, but neither of them truly mind.
Comments: Written for adronicus. Based on RP (though you don’t have to be part of the RP to understand this). Nem’s my Miyavi and I’m her Reita. XD I dunno why this popped into my head. It just… did. So I wrote. *LOL* Brill is an original character of Nem’s, so all credit for that character goes to her. Title is very uncreative, I know. :/ Something you must know before reading this: Reita and Miyavi are both artists in the RP (though Reita does have a degree in music and can play various instruments as well). I stole the idea of painting one’s name on the body of a significant other from coiled_iris (please see this fic. Thank you for the inspiration, Iris-chan~. And of course, thanks to Nem-chan, cos without her and her adorable Miyavi, I wouldn’t have been able to write this. ^_^
The sky was overcast, threatening a downpour, though not a single drop of rain had fallen all afternoon. As Reita walked, following a path that he knew quite well by now, he hoped that the sky would make good on its promise (it seemed to be a promise, anyway-such dark rainclouds always brought rain) and that the wind would not carry the rainclouds away from the immediate area anytime soon. Not before they got a decent rain, at least. It had been a couple of weeks since it had rained, and in Reita’s opinion, a good rain was well overdue.
He reached his destination and knocked on the door, only knocking twice before the door was opened. Miyavi beamed at him, ushering him inside and pulling him into a warm hug before Reita had even fully stepped inside (not that Reita minded in the least; he returned the embrace quite eagerly, even giving in to selfish impulse and drawing Miyavi closer so that there was no space between them).
“The color and the smell…. Gonna rain, Rei-chan.” Miyavi drew back slightly, still smiling, and then he leaned in again, pressing the lightest of kisses to Reita’s lips before pulling away completely. “We can watch together.”
Reita suggested that they paint while they waited, just because. They wound up getting more paint on their clothes and their skin than the canvas that they were supposed to have been using, but neither of them cared. They could always buy more paint, and they could always buy more clothes. Reita knew that Brill would be quite happy to supply them with the latter.
“I knew you’d make a wonderful canvas,” Reita murmured, pausing to press soft, open-mouthed kisses to the back of Miyavi’s neck before he continued painting random, meaningless designs on Miyavi’s back. The designs were pretty and somewhat abstract, but Reita’s decision to use Miyavi as a canvas was based less on true artistic purposes and more on the excuse just to run the brush over Miyavi’s skin and see how Miyavi would react to it.
“Mmm.” Perhaps it was a noise of agreement, or perhaps Miyavi had just said it for the sake of saying something. A few moments later (after Reita had painted his name between Miyavi’s shoulderblades), Miyavi looked over his shoulder at Reita with an almost-wicked gleam in his eye. “Shirt off. My turn.”
After Reita had discarded his shirt, Miyavi gently pushed him down so that Reita was lying on his back. Miyavi then dipped one of his brushes into the paint (he chose a dark blue color) and straddled Reita, beginning to paint equally random designs on Reita’s chest. It was not necessary for Miyavi to straddle Reita in order to do this, but Reita knew that Miyavi had done it just to be evil and tease him, and each time Miyavi moved, Reita definitely felt it.
“You’re evil,” he accused lightly, shifting beneath Miyavi and almost smiling in satisfaction when Miyavi paused and bit down on his bottom lip-a sign that Reita had distracted him.
“You’re not really complaining,” Miyavi retorted, painting a spiral shape that began at Reita’s right nipple and ended at his right collarbone.
“I’m not,” Reita agreed, his hands moving down Miyavi’s sides to rest lightly on his hips.
“You’re distracting me,” Miyavi pouted (Reita knew better than to believe the pout was genuine). “You’re gonna make me mess up.” Before Reita could reply, Miyavi continued: “You painted your name on my back. I felt it. If you get to mark what’s yours, I get to mark what’s mine.” And then, Miyavi set about choosing another color and painting the character for his name on Reita’s abdomen. It only took a few strokes of the brush, and then Miyavi paused again, admiring his work.
Reita had to admire said work upside-down, but he didn’t mind. “Nice,” he commented, smiling widely.
Miyavi gazed down at him, looking perfectly serious save for the glint of what might have been mischief in his eyes. “You know, I’d like this even more if there weren’t any clothes in my way.”
The almost-naughty statement made Reita’s breath momentarily catch in his throat. “That can be taken care of,” he began, shifting beneath Miyavi again even as Miyavi continued to paint various shapes on his chest, “if you’d get off of me.”
Miyavi feigned another pout but slid off of Reita’s body without saying a word, and Reita moved to unbutton his jeans, but he was interrupted by the sound of rain hitting the roof. Ah, so the sky hadn’t lied to them after all.
Instead of unbuttoning his pants, Reita stood up, offering a hand to Miyavi. Miyavi took it, though he looked somewhat confused. “Come outside with me,” Reita told him. It wouldn’t hurt to get sidetracked for a little while. They could always come back to this room, to the paint.
They went outside, hands still clasped, and they stood in the rain, lifting their faces to the sky and welcoming the cool wetness on their skin. Miyavi eventually released Reita’s hand and lifted both of his arms, laughing and spinning in a circle. The paint was beginning to wash off of his back already (it was beginning to wash off of Reita’s chest as well), and the colors and the rain ran down his back in rivulets, either getting absorbed by his jeans or dripping onto the ground. The colors and the water swirled together, becoming puddles at their feet, and the colors were beautiful, Reita had to admit, though nowhere near as beautiful as the man beside him.
“Our names are washing off,” Miyavi suddenly said, blinking rain out of his eyes and pointing to Reita’s chest.
“It doesn’t matter,” Reita replied, smiling. There were more effect ways of marking someone. There were permanent ways, but Reita did not mention that. Instead, he simply said: “You and I know who I belong to, as does everyone else that we know.” All of their friends and acquaintances ought to have known by that point, anyway.
Miyavi tilted his head to one side and simply returned Reita’s smile for a moment before replying, “And you and I know to whom this heart of mine belongs.”
There was a long, comfortable silence between them then in which they merely listened to the rain, though eventually, Miyavi spoke again. “This couldn’t get any better.”
“Ah, but it could,” Reita replied, stepping closer to Miyavi, not breaking eye contact.
Miyavi blinked at him in what Reita assumed was curiosity. “How?”
“Like this.” And then Reita was tangling his fingers into Miyavi’s wet hair, pulling him down even as Reita leaned up. Their lips met, and Reita felt Miyavi tremble at the gentle contact, lips already parting for him. There was no hesitation (they were well past that stage in their relationship), and Reita took full advantage of those parted lips, tongue fully exploring the heated mouth that was a delicious contrast to the cool touch of the rain on their skin. When their tongues brushed together, Reita shivered, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the chill of the rain.
Finally, Reita broke away from the kiss, and Miyavi looked down at him, clearly dazed. Reita felt just as dazed as Miyavi looked-kissing him never failed to make him feel this way.
“Let’s go back in,” Miyavi suggested, grabbing Reita’s hands and tugging at them gently.
Reita raised an eyebrow, amused. “You love the rain. Are you tired of being out in it already?”
“No,” Miyavi replied, giving Reita a meaningful look. “Just craving other things right now. Warm things. The dancing light behind my eyelids that I only see when I’m with you.” He smirked and pressed closer to Reita. “I’m willing to set aside the idea of you as a canvas for the time being, but I want the rest of your clothes gone the minute we go back inside.”
“In that case, what the hell are we still doing out here?” Reita returned the smirk, twining the fingers of one hand with Miyavi’s before he headed back towards the front door. “I aim to please, you know.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Reita opened the door and they went back inside, shedding clothes and dripping water everywhere as they made their way to Miyavi’s bedroom, hands and mouths barely losing contact even as they fumbled around gracelessly. The contact was more important to Reita-he could afford to sacrifice poise for the sake of Miyavi’s touches and kisses.
The rain did not let up; it only fell faster, washing away the already-diluted swirls of color that had been the only indication of Reita’s and Miyavi’s brief venture outside. Inside, the two lovers were blissfully unaware of this, now far too absorbed in each other to notice or care.
~END~
Endnote: This was supposed to be a drabble. A drabble. And yet, I sat there and wrote all of this when I should have been studying. Bah. Ah, well. *off to study now*
Author: Kagome
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Miyavi (solo, S.K.I.N.)/Reita (the GazettE)
Warnings: Sap, suggestiveness, AU (RP-based)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: Rain interrupts the artists’ work, but neither of them truly mind.
Comments: Written for adronicus. Based on RP (though you don’t have to be part of the RP to understand this). Nem’s my Miyavi and I’m her Reita. XD I dunno why this popped into my head. It just… did. So I wrote. *LOL* Brill is an original character of Nem’s, so all credit for that character goes to her. Title is very uncreative, I know. :/ Something you must know before reading this: Reita and Miyavi are both artists in the RP (though Reita does have a degree in music and can play various instruments as well). I stole the idea of painting one’s name on the body of a significant other from coiled_iris (please see this fic. Thank you for the inspiration, Iris-chan~. And of course, thanks to Nem-chan, cos without her and her adorable Miyavi, I wouldn’t have been able to write this. ^_^
The sky was overcast, threatening a downpour, though not a single drop of rain had fallen all afternoon. As Reita walked, following a path that he knew quite well by now, he hoped that the sky would make good on its promise (it seemed to be a promise, anyway-such dark rainclouds always brought rain) and that the wind would not carry the rainclouds away from the immediate area anytime soon. Not before they got a decent rain, at least. It had been a couple of weeks since it had rained, and in Reita’s opinion, a good rain was well overdue.
He reached his destination and knocked on the door, only knocking twice before the door was opened. Miyavi beamed at him, ushering him inside and pulling him into a warm hug before Reita had even fully stepped inside (not that Reita minded in the least; he returned the embrace quite eagerly, even giving in to selfish impulse and drawing Miyavi closer so that there was no space between them).
“The color and the smell…. Gonna rain, Rei-chan.” Miyavi drew back slightly, still smiling, and then he leaned in again, pressing the lightest of kisses to Reita’s lips before pulling away completely. “We can watch together.”
Reita suggested that they paint while they waited, just because. They wound up getting more paint on their clothes and their skin than the canvas that they were supposed to have been using, but neither of them cared. They could always buy more paint, and they could always buy more clothes. Reita knew that Brill would be quite happy to supply them with the latter.
“I knew you’d make a wonderful canvas,” Reita murmured, pausing to press soft, open-mouthed kisses to the back of Miyavi’s neck before he continued painting random, meaningless designs on Miyavi’s back. The designs were pretty and somewhat abstract, but Reita’s decision to use Miyavi as a canvas was based less on true artistic purposes and more on the excuse just to run the brush over Miyavi’s skin and see how Miyavi would react to it.
“Mmm.” Perhaps it was a noise of agreement, or perhaps Miyavi had just said it for the sake of saying something. A few moments later (after Reita had painted his name between Miyavi’s shoulderblades), Miyavi looked over his shoulder at Reita with an almost-wicked gleam in his eye. “Shirt off. My turn.”
After Reita had discarded his shirt, Miyavi gently pushed him down so that Reita was lying on his back. Miyavi then dipped one of his brushes into the paint (he chose a dark blue color) and straddled Reita, beginning to paint equally random designs on Reita’s chest. It was not necessary for Miyavi to straddle Reita in order to do this, but Reita knew that Miyavi had done it just to be evil and tease him, and each time Miyavi moved, Reita definitely felt it.
“You’re evil,” he accused lightly, shifting beneath Miyavi and almost smiling in satisfaction when Miyavi paused and bit down on his bottom lip-a sign that Reita had distracted him.
“You’re not really complaining,” Miyavi retorted, painting a spiral shape that began at Reita’s right nipple and ended at his right collarbone.
“I’m not,” Reita agreed, his hands moving down Miyavi’s sides to rest lightly on his hips.
“You’re distracting me,” Miyavi pouted (Reita knew better than to believe the pout was genuine). “You’re gonna make me mess up.” Before Reita could reply, Miyavi continued: “You painted your name on my back. I felt it. If you get to mark what’s yours, I get to mark what’s mine.” And then, Miyavi set about choosing another color and painting the character for his name on Reita’s abdomen. It only took a few strokes of the brush, and then Miyavi paused again, admiring his work.
Reita had to admire said work upside-down, but he didn’t mind. “Nice,” he commented, smiling widely.
Miyavi gazed down at him, looking perfectly serious save for the glint of what might have been mischief in his eyes. “You know, I’d like this even more if there weren’t any clothes in my way.”
The almost-naughty statement made Reita’s breath momentarily catch in his throat. “That can be taken care of,” he began, shifting beneath Miyavi again even as Miyavi continued to paint various shapes on his chest, “if you’d get off of me.”
Miyavi feigned another pout but slid off of Reita’s body without saying a word, and Reita moved to unbutton his jeans, but he was interrupted by the sound of rain hitting the roof. Ah, so the sky hadn’t lied to them after all.
Instead of unbuttoning his pants, Reita stood up, offering a hand to Miyavi. Miyavi took it, though he looked somewhat confused. “Come outside with me,” Reita told him. It wouldn’t hurt to get sidetracked for a little while. They could always come back to this room, to the paint.
They went outside, hands still clasped, and they stood in the rain, lifting their faces to the sky and welcoming the cool wetness on their skin. Miyavi eventually released Reita’s hand and lifted both of his arms, laughing and spinning in a circle. The paint was beginning to wash off of his back already (it was beginning to wash off of Reita’s chest as well), and the colors and the rain ran down his back in rivulets, either getting absorbed by his jeans or dripping onto the ground. The colors and the water swirled together, becoming puddles at their feet, and the colors were beautiful, Reita had to admit, though nowhere near as beautiful as the man beside him.
“Our names are washing off,” Miyavi suddenly said, blinking rain out of his eyes and pointing to Reita’s chest.
“It doesn’t matter,” Reita replied, smiling. There were more effect ways of marking someone. There were permanent ways, but Reita did not mention that. Instead, he simply said: “You and I know who I belong to, as does everyone else that we know.” All of their friends and acquaintances ought to have known by that point, anyway.
Miyavi tilted his head to one side and simply returned Reita’s smile for a moment before replying, “And you and I know to whom this heart of mine belongs.”
There was a long, comfortable silence between them then in which they merely listened to the rain, though eventually, Miyavi spoke again. “This couldn’t get any better.”
“Ah, but it could,” Reita replied, stepping closer to Miyavi, not breaking eye contact.
Miyavi blinked at him in what Reita assumed was curiosity. “How?”
“Like this.” And then Reita was tangling his fingers into Miyavi’s wet hair, pulling him down even as Reita leaned up. Their lips met, and Reita felt Miyavi tremble at the gentle contact, lips already parting for him. There was no hesitation (they were well past that stage in their relationship), and Reita took full advantage of those parted lips, tongue fully exploring the heated mouth that was a delicious contrast to the cool touch of the rain on their skin. When their tongues brushed together, Reita shivered, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the chill of the rain.
Finally, Reita broke away from the kiss, and Miyavi looked down at him, clearly dazed. Reita felt just as dazed as Miyavi looked-kissing him never failed to make him feel this way.
“Let’s go back in,” Miyavi suggested, grabbing Reita’s hands and tugging at them gently.
Reita raised an eyebrow, amused. “You love the rain. Are you tired of being out in it already?”
“No,” Miyavi replied, giving Reita a meaningful look. “Just craving other things right now. Warm things. The dancing light behind my eyelids that I only see when I’m with you.” He smirked and pressed closer to Reita. “I’m willing to set aside the idea of you as a canvas for the time being, but I want the rest of your clothes gone the minute we go back inside.”
“In that case, what the hell are we still doing out here?” Reita returned the smirk, twining the fingers of one hand with Miyavi’s before he headed back towards the front door. “I aim to please, you know.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Reita opened the door and they went back inside, shedding clothes and dripping water everywhere as they made their way to Miyavi’s bedroom, hands and mouths barely losing contact even as they fumbled around gracelessly. The contact was more important to Reita-he could afford to sacrifice poise for the sake of Miyavi’s touches and kisses.
The rain did not let up; it only fell faster, washing away the already-diluted swirls of color that had been the only indication of Reita’s and Miyavi’s brief venture outside. Inside, the two lovers were blissfully unaware of this, now far too absorbed in each other to notice or care.
~END~
Endnote: This was supposed to be a drabble. A drabble. And yet, I sat there and wrote all of this when I should have been studying. Bah. Ah, well. *off to study now*