Kink Bingo_Wildcard [Anonymity] Part 1
Title: Silver and Gold
Chapter: 1/2 [Oneshot]
Pairing: Tora x OFC (lol…I'm going to fanfic hell for this)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Warnings: male x female, explicit oral sex, intercourse, foul language, adult themes
Summary: Tora is looking for something to relieve his restlessness while on tour, so he goes on a bit of a solitary nightly adventure that ends up being far more amusing than what he had anticipated.
Comments: So this is my offering for the "WildCard" kink-bingo square, I picked the anonymity-kink for that one. I had another plan in mind for that square but this story ended up happening and I realized it would fit nicely so yeah, here we go! Yup…I went there. Where every decent fanfic writer is horribly afraid to go because of the dire consequences. I wrote het, with an OFC, guilty as charged. YOLO as they say on tumblr XD Its pretty damn hot to be fair, and pretty much got written completely on monday night at my family cottage after I spent the evening re-watching A Single Man, that masterpiece of a movie directed by Tom Ford, for about the hundredth time. Its a must see. So yeah, I might have been more than mildly inspired to write an OFC loosely modelled on the very beautiful (imho) Julianne Moore. I like redheads (can I say Christina Hendricks? uuunf! Such a babe…) I hope you guys won't want to have me crucified for this, but my Tora-muse is an absolute slut and really wanted to have his way with a hot cougar, blame him!
***
Tora is wandering aimlessly through the glittery, busy streets of Osaka.
They just finished playing a pretty good set, and after a few drinks with his boys, he found himself restless, jittery, the stage energy still flowing through him, absorbed from the adrenaline and the lively crowd. So he does what he usually does in a relatively unknown city at night. Wanders the streets, aimlessly, looking for a distraction of some kind until sleep finds him.
A solitary nightly adventure.
Sometimes Saga comes along, or Hiroto, since he has a propensity to get them both in trouble, much to their amusement, and annoyance of his other bandmates. But tonight he's by himself, meandering through streets, darkened shopfronts and sparkly neon and the crowd milling about. Odd that he finds that kind of hectic atmosphere restful, but after spending years of his life touring and performing and working on tight schedules and constantly being pushed around, the busy noisy night is like a respite.
He turns onto another busy street, and from the gaggle of well, albeit very lightly, dressed teenagers walking round he assumes he found the nightclubs and bars. One catches his attention, a dark door with a subdued looking bouncer, no line up. He ambles up to the man, a little tilt of his head in greeting before entering the dark bar, on a whim. Its one of those homey establishments, tables and a long shiny granite bar, dim lights, subdued music. Its full but doesn't feel overly crowded, small groups at the tables, surrounding the bar, a game of darts in the back. Laughter, the muted hum of conversations. Its the kind of place he likes. He finds an empty stool at the bar, orders a beer, and then indulges in one of his favourite pastimes: people watching.
He's an observant guy. He's learned to be more sociable and less shy over the years, became a bit of a comedian, for the sake of his bandmates but also for himself, but before he became the proverbial blabbermouth that hosts radio shows and silly internet live broadcasts, he was that quiet guy in the back that observed. Interactions and behaviours, body language. He's become really good at reading people, a little too good sometimes, analyzing personalities to the point that he didn't feel making any sensible contact with anyone, for fear of being disappointed.
Maybe that's why he's still single at 29.
Not that the occasions to sate his urges lack in any way. When you're in a band with four other handsome boys, and that you spend almost every waking and sleeping hour with them, you learn to make do with each other. Easier to sleep with people you know than going out to find an outside you're not sure you can trust. There's the occasional girl thrown in the mix, some pretty thing picked up in a club for a bit of careless fun in filthy bathrooms and hotel rooms with too thin walls, only to get amused looks from Shou in the morning.
You really fucked her good, didn't you? he would say, with a little twist of his mouth that Tora knew meant that he was half amused, half jealous. Jealous of the girl.
But lately he's been refusing the offers, from the band and the girls, too restless, sick of the routine. He needs his dose of uncertainty, of unexpected. So he has a sip of his cold beer and watches.
The cute couple in the darkened alcove, murmuring to each other too low for him to hear, but from their matching blushes its probably not conversation fit for the public. The group of friends laughing raucously at the nearby table, empty glasses and bottles all over the wooden surface. There's some interesting interactions there, one of the girls looking at a boy with longing from across the table while he chats with the clearly uninterested girl beside him, two boys exchanging less than innocent looks, and touches, underneath the table, this one boy staring into the distance completely oblivious to the conversation. It makes for a fascinating dynamic. Interesting enough for him not to notice when someone slides into the stool beside his, until he hears a raspy, breathy female voice order whiskey.
Its a pretty voice, a little on the low scale, soft yet strong, feminine without being overly girly, with just a hint of an accent he can't place. He turns his head just a little, curious, eyes downcast, and the first thing he sees is feet. Delicate, finely formed feet in black, high-heeled strappy sandals, dark grey painted toenails. Delicate ankles, the full curve of a toned calf, sun-kissed skin, so much warmer and golden than his own milk white complexion. Slender, endless legs crossed at the knee, a sliver of tanned inner thigh revealed by the parted back slit of the dress.
His eyes keep going up the elegant yet athletic silhouette, clad in a simple, knee length, sleeveless black sheath: a graceful curve of hip, narrow waist, long, elegant arms covered with a spattering of rust coloured freckles. Her dress has a high neckline, demure almost, but he can tell that her chest isn't overly generous, just enough to balance her lower body. He doesn't care all that much really, those long legs pretty much made him breathless already. He feels like a bit of a pervert at his appraisal of her faceless body, even if its subtle, and quickly lifts his eyes to get a glimpse of her face, getting a bit of a surprise.
The girl, woman actually, is a foreigner. Her hair is a rich, clearly natural coppery red, tied back in a ponytail falling like a silky smooth river down her back, her face full of those elegant angles that would look too strong on a japanese girl but fit her perfectly. Her profile is sharp, strong cheekbones and a graceful jawline, jutting lips and a straight nose, long fluttery lashes, her skin gold and freckled and gorgeous.
She turns towards him a little when the barman serves her drink, mouth curved up, her lower lip poutier than the top one, and he notices that the freckles run across her slender nose and cheeks, up to her forehead and down her upper lip in a perfect, even dusting that makes her look deliciously fresh faced. He's never seen a natural redhead up close like this, but he's fascinated by the perfect "imperfection" of her skin. Japanese culture puts such a strong value on pale, unmarred skin, urging everyone to wear layers of sunscreen and foundation until everyone is wearing this homogeneous mask of eternal youth. He understands the ideal, but it baffles him sometimes that most of the girls he meets are hiding underneath so many layers of makeup and social conditioning that if he was to date one, it would probably take months for him to see her bare skin, free of artifice. To see that beautiful, lived-in skin is at once intriguing and refreshing. Maybe a little exciting even.
Imperfection is relative, for him anyway. Despite his own social conditioning that dictates that he should favour paleness and eternal youth and demure, obedient submissive young girls. He never really enjoyed being told what to do, to be quite honest.
She pulls out her wallet from her purse to pay for her drink, her hands are long-fingered and graceful, nails painted the same slate grey as her toes, and on a whim he gestures to the barman and pulls out a few bills out of his own wallet to pay for her. She turns towards him, surprised smile twisting her full lips, and he's happy to get a real glimpse of her face. She's a little older than he is probably, very fine lines at the corners of her eyes from a lifetime of sunlight and smiling, she does have an easy smile, white teeth peeking between her lips. Her eyes are like a summer sky on a hot day, endlessly blue with a darker ring of indigo around the iris, her lashes thick and long, well groomed brows. He has a tendency to find foreign girls pretty, but she is flat out gorgeous, enough for him to feel a little flustered when she thanks him in her low voice with an amused quirk of her left brow.
There is a silence as she takes the first sip of amber liquid that matches her hair so well, and then she turns her entire body towards his, stool swivelling, rearranging her legs not to bump into him.
"That was very kind of you." she says, thanking him again with a little polite bow.
He shrugs, turns his own stool a fraction.
"A lovely woman like you shouldn't pay for her own drinks." he replies, before he can catch himself.
When the hell did he turn so flirtatious? She smirks at his words, flattered but not too obviously so, takes another sip.
"And what brings a handsome gentleman like yourself in such a little dive like this one? Its the first time I see you around here."
He has a sip of his own beer, if only to make his mouth seem a little less like the sahara desert. There's a lush timbre to her voice that sends his stomach roiling into delicious knots, a smouldering fire seeping into his lower belly.
"I live in Tokyo, I'm here for two days."
She nods, extricating a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Those american cigarettes that are so strong he gets knocked out after more than two, yet still accepts one as she offers the open packet to him. She smirks when he pulls out his lighter and offers her the flame, admires how the flickering light warms up her entire face, throws hints of gold in her light eyes. She pulls elegantly, blows out a stream of grey smoke as he lights his own cigarette, fighting a cough with a snort.
"These are so strong…"
She smirks again, a peek of white teeth.
"You don't like american cigarettes?"
He nods negatively, with a smirk of his own.
"I like them, but I'm used to menthols."
She laughs then, a low throaty chuckle that fully bares her teeth, and they are straight and pretty darn perfect. She could put Shou to shame.
"You like sissy cigarettes? A tall manly man like you?"
"Hey! They're good…actually I'm pretty sure they make me smoke much more than I should…"
"I'm just teasing you." she drags at the cigarette again, effortlessly glamorous, "What brings you to Osaka?"
He watches her exhale smoke, half entranced. She manages to make every gesture elegant and sensual, yet so natural. Seduction is in her blood, and its quickly seeping into his.
"I play guitar in a band, we came for a gig."
"Oh, a musician then…that's interesting. Is your band doing good?"
He smirks, has a sip of beer.
"We played at Budokan six months ago."
He has to hold back laughter when she chokes on her mouthful of smoke, and he pats her back in friendly manner as she struggles to catch her breath. She takes a sip of her drink to soothe her throat.
"Alright, you guys are doing pretty good for yourselves…wow. So you guys are the ones that played at Zepp tonight? Alice-something?"
Its odd to meet someone who hasn't got a single clue of what he does for a living. Its oddly refreshing not to feel like he has a reputation to uphold, social pressure to act a certain way. Being himself for a change.
"Yeah, Alice Nine. That's us."
"Ah…I heard some songs on the radio, you guys are pretty great if I remember well. You guys are rock-ish right?"
He nods, inhales smoke, it burns down his throat as he ponders. Its not a question he gets asked very often, to define their music.
"I guess we are after a fashion, maybe? Its hard to label us clearly, we go in so many different directions. But I suppose that would be an appropriate label if I was to simplify it. What about you? I don't want to assume things, but I don't think you're japanese…"
She chuckles.
"That's very observant of you," she teases, stubbing her cigarette in the ashtray, "I've been living in Osaka for fourteen years, but I come from San Diego."
"Ah, that explains your japanese skills...California? I was in Los Angeles once, at the beginning of our career."
"How did you like it?"
He snorts, remembering the packed schedule and the exhausting flight.
"I don't really know, I was too busy to enjoy it. But it was sunny, and it seemed nice enough. I'd love to go back one day. What brought you to Japan?"
She shrugs then, elegantly, and he gestures for two more whiskeys.
"I had a bit of a rough patch after university, I didn't know what I wanted to do, so I travelled all asia and fell in love with Japan. I came here to teach english literature at Osaka University's School of Foreign Studies on a year long contract, ended up teaching for ten years, and four years ago I stopped and became a writer."
"Wow. That's an interesting path…are you working on a book right now?"
She laughs, a little dejectedly.
"I'm trying to. Its a historical novel that takes place in pre-war Japan but I'm having the worst writer's block right now. I'm just back from a meeting with my editor and my publisher actually, to get an extension on my deadline because my manuscript is due in three months and I'm nowhere near done. My first two books wrote themselves, but this one is really giving me a hard time…I came here to clear my head."
The barman takes away her glass and his empty bottle, replaces them with two neat little glasses of whiskey. Tora holds it up towards her.
"Looks like we both are in a rut then. I also came here to clear my head, lets cheer to that…"
She smiles when their glasses touch, her eyes flaring, full of heady promise, and Tora feels a little breathless. Eager.
"I'm Clara, by the way."
He takes her offered hand in his, its soft and warm but her grip is strong, confident.
"You can call me Tora."
***
He texted Shou earlier, letting him know that he probably would be back very late if at all, not to wait up on him.
Clara is fascinating, her mind just as much as her stunning looks.
She's left handed. Likes to play volleyball, played the varsity teams, and horseback ride, laughs when he says he's never even seen a horse in person. She has two older brothers, two doctors. Her mother died of breast cancer when she was 15. She takes her whiskey neat, smokes a lot when she writes but not so much otherwise. She's a bit of a tomboy despite the dress and heels she wore to her meeting. She's five feet eleven without heels, much to his delighted awe.
She's 38 but doesn't look it, not one bit, scoffing when she finds out that he's turning 30 in the fall.
"Look at me," she says with an eye-roll, "trying to pick up handsome young studs."
"Are you really trying to pick me up?"
She smiles, a predatory grin that sends his blood boiling.
"Is it working?"
He reaches down, slow, deliberate, slides his fingers underneath the hem of her dress, up her shin to cup her knee with his palm. Her skin is soft and hot under his hand, her eyes glittering at his boldness. He holds her gaze for a few seconds, fingers drawing little lines on her smooth skin. She bites her lower lip, back straightening as his hand slides higher up on her thigh, fully underneath her dress. The delicate balance between attraction and desire has been overturned with a simple touch.
"Do you want it to work?"
"Yes." she replies, bluntly.
He feels his mouth quirking up.
"Then its working."
***
Have I lost any readers yet? I hope not since the porn is in the second part. XD