Fic - Cherish (part 2)
Title: Cherish
Group: Nightmare
Pairing: Ruka x Sakito
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The trials and tribulations of being a pet.
Continuing from part 1...
So you see, Sakito has more than one ace up his sleeve when it comes to keeping my entire panting, eager self fixed on him. The reward system works frighteningly well, and his quiet, matter-of-fact sexual favours are a potent magnet. But his primary method, until very recently at least, has always been the dogfight; though what he's planning to get out of it in the long run is anyone's guess.
There are two distinct possibilities, and, when I'm in my right mind long enough to think clearly, neither are particularly appealing: he taunts me into violence again and again, and it's either because he needs me to come at him so he can break me down and break me in until I'm perfectly trained and docile, or because he gets a thrill when I'm a vicious, biting bundle of fury and he wants to see me sink even lower. But I'm too ragged, too besotted and angry and sore to work out which would please him most, and oh, I want to please him.
Remember Sakito's photoshoot last year? Yeah, that one. God, it was beautiful: naked as the day he was born, with nothing but a guitar separating music magazine from top-shelf porno. Not that it made much difference: when our manager brought the proof copy round we all took one look at it, gaped, then rushed straight out and bought it. I shudder to think how many staff members' skin bins have have gone up a whole level of class thanks to the purchase.
Sakito was nervous about it beforehand, he said. But he wasn't, not really, not even after he'd told us about it and we'd leched at him, open-mouthed, for about half an hour before giving him our blessing. Sakito was made to be naked, and I should know.
We had a huge fight over it, all the same. I told him (not quite truthfully) that he looked like a whore, mostly because I knew exactly how he'd react, and I was right: he cracked me across the jaw, and once my ears had stopped ringing I had the perfect excuse to grab him by the hair and wrestle him down onto the workstation at his back. He fought me all the way, scratching and hissing like a damn alleycat. Eventually I managed to shove him over onto his stomach, and then I fucked him across the desk and he had nowhere to go, his nimble musician fingers digging into the wood hard enough to raise splinters under his nails as I clamped one hand to the back of his neck. By the time he came he was a laughing, crying mess and I wasn't much better. Every time we did it I thought nothing could feel any worse or any more incredible, and each time he proved me wrong.
His hips were a kaleidoscope of bruises already; I licked my lips, panting, exhausted. He rolled over to give me his patented stare of disgust, somehow managing to look down his nose at me even while lying flat on his back.
“Fuck you,” I told him, and then, “are you okay?” He swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath, the quiver of those sweet lips guilting me into concern, as usual. My fingertips brushed his stomach, briefly, the skin silky smooth as a snake.
“...I didn't look like...what you said,” murmured Sakito, a questioning inflection in his unsteady voice. He sat up with difficulty and grabbed my belt-buckle so I couldn't walk away.
“No,” I admitted miserably. “No, you were beautiful.” He slid his arms around my waist, just for a moment, and I found myself inhaling the scent of his hair helplessly.
“Thank you.” Sakito reached for his trousers, and winced. “...Help me get dressed.”
I was feeling guilty, so I did; I'd been very rough on him. Kneeling at his feet, smoothing the tight denim up his legs, I caught him smiling down at me in private amusement. And once again I thought to myself: what am I doing?
I was more and more conscious of it, see, as the months sped by and the same cycle went on repeating itself. And even the most exhilarating, damning pattern of events will lose its spice when you know exactly what's coming next. Sakito was still cruel, and marvellous, and sex-and-violence games with him were always utterly thrilling, so much so that I'd lose myself in the moment completely. But I was starting to see past the moment, past the pleasure and dull guilt and the mental self-flagellation I ended up wallowing in every time I came to heel.
I had to wonder how long we could keep this up.
I didn't think Sakito had the faintest idea that I was seriously considering a way out - as far as I could tell he didn't pay enough attention to my mind any more to notice what was going through it. So I let him carry on, and every day I felt something inside me draw a little further away from his influence. I was so proud of myself. For a while.
That's right, I underestimated him. Again. Because just as I had come to the inner decision that yes, I was bored of this, he did the cruellest, cleverest thing he could have done.
He kissed me.
*****
It should have been a routine evening. There was a drinking party somewhere off Harajuku, and for once it sounded kind of fun: Kei-kun would be there, and between him and Yomi I could hope for some pleasantly geeky chatter and harmless flirting. But, as usual, I responded to Sakito's hints like a good boy and went on home after work.
I was halfway through my bento, reading tipsy texts from Yomi, when I decided that I did want to go. Why shouldn't I? They were my friends too, and I was stronger now; maybe it was time to show Sakito that he didn't own me, that the marks he left on me were only skin deep after all. So off I went, and once I saw what a good time everyone was having I determined that I'd be doing this a lot more often. I'd almost forgotten what it was like.
I'd located Kei-kun and was deep in a nerds-only Akiba conversation when Sakito noticed me. I'd picked him out almost the moment I came in: for me, he shone out in the room like a beacon. I saw his gorgeous head freeze mid-turn, catching sight of me. His eyes widened and narrowed in the time it takes to inhale, and his lovely mouth set in an ambiguous line.
“Ruka?” said Kei-kun, prodding me lightly in the arm. I gave him a reassuring smile, and when I looked again Sakito had turned away. The deeply ingrained training that strove for his approval and cringed at his disappointment made me want to run to him, tail between my legs; that pissed me off, since I was meant to be testing my newly-found independence, and I resolved that I wouldn't go and apologise, and I wouldn't go home. I was having fun, dammit.
Sakito didn't come and speak to me. Occasionally I'd see him looking at me quietly, surrounded by the usual admiring colleagues, and although his expression was perfectly neutral I'd find myself fidgeting nervously under his gaze. But I held out until one in the morning, feeling very pleased with myself.
I should have expected the knock at my door, so soon after I arrived home that he must have followed me. I should also have ignored it. But I'd won my little victory, and I wanted to gloat about it.
“Ruka,” he greeted me ominously, gliding past me to the living room, presumably so we could have our scheduled row in comfort. “I thought you were staying home.”
“Changed my mind.” I kept my body angled away from him, indicating my refusal to engage. “Thought I ought to make a contribution for once.”
“And what contribution do you think you made?” asked Sakito sweetly, somehow managing to make his tone so insulting that the usual urge to punch him in the face set my fingers tingling. But I knew where that led, and if Sakito and I ended up having our usual shattering sex this whole defiant gesture would have been for nothing. So I chained the feeling and dragged it back, replacing it with righteous and carefully cultivated boredom.
He must have read my expression: his brows drew down for an instant in a real scowl, and his head rose even more proudly on that long neck. I put on my most laconic face and braced myself for his assault, determined not to rise to it no matter how cruel he was.
“You-” he began.
“Don't bother.” I was thrilled: I could do this!
Sakito nodded briefly and stepped towards me. I raised my hands reflexively; I didn't want to fight him, not tonight, but my body was poised and ready of its own accord to stop him hurting me. He took no notice of my defensive stance, just slipped into my space, features blank and giving no warning of what he was about to do. I grabbed him by the shoulders, ready to shove him away. Then he kissed me.
It was like the first time he slapped me, only a thousand times more shocking. And intense. And wonderful. His lips were smooth and yielding beneath mine, and as I drew him towards me helplessly to fold him in my arms he tipped his head back, fitting himself perfectly into my embrace. And I'm completely ashamed to say I didn't hesitate for a moment.
It took the barest nudge to get him to open up, and then I tasted him and it was the most intimate thing I had ever done. My tongue brushed his, daringly, but he didn't bite, just slipped his arms softly around my neck and let me take his weight, and I was glad to do it, forgetting my resentment, all the hard-won distance I'd put between us.
“Saki...” I said feebly, as he paused to snatch a breath. “...What's this for...?” His fingertips were gentle on the nape of my neck, and I felt myself flinch with expected pain, a sharp lesson left over from the first time I'd fucked him. But it never came.
“For you.” He whispered it against my mouth, surging up to meet me. For a moment I floundered in confusion, not sure if I should be on the attack or the defence or just delighted; but he was warm and fragrant and delicious, and in the end I had no choice but to roll over and adore him. Remember, I was fucking starved for affection after what felt like an age of strict discipline and punishment, and he knew it. He made me more his in those few seconds than he had in all the long months that preceded them.
“Saki, I-”
“Shhh.” Sakito's fingers trailed musingly down my torso, grasping the hem of my tshirt delicately and pulling it in one smooth movement over my head. With a few light touches he manoeuvred me over to my sofa, and I folded up beneath him as my legs hit. He kissed me again. “Down. Quiet.” And for once in my life I obeyed him without complaint, just a faint whine of surprise and pleasure as his lips left my mouth to brush along my throat and down the centre of my chest. He paused often, sliding back up to kiss me again, my hands buried in his long hair, and the whole thing was so unhurried and exploratory that I hardly knew how I should be reacting.
Another pause, this time to press his flushed cheek against my chest, and I was sure he could hear the rapturous beat of my heart; and right then, believe me, it was beating all for him. To my amazement he didn't give the usual possessive, derisive smirk at this sign of desire, but let the curve of his lips part just a little in a real smile. Then more of those kisses, until I thought I could flow all to pieces beneath him and it wouldn't matter because it was so good.
Sakito removed his clothes quietly (another landmark event, since he and I rarely managed to have sex without at least a few ripped seams and lost buttons), radiant above me as he slid my underwear down. I let him have it all his own way, and even though I was underneath him right now in a strictly physical sense, I didn't feel beneath him. And that was the first time that had ever happened.
“Ready?” he asked. As if he needed to ask. I nodded wordlessly, still too obedient to his earlier words and befuddled by his sweetness to speak. He took my wrists, sliding my hands over the curve of his ass to his narrow waist, and submitted to being lifted. Then I was inside him and his lashes fluttered closed for a moment as he sank down on my erection, leaning forward when I began to move him.
“Nnn...” He braced a hand on my shoulder, rising lithe and supine above me, the satin curtain of his hair spilling down behind one ear, where silver and diamonds leapt and sparkled in the light. “...Good?” he breathed, another first, and I could do nothing but give him a low, adoring growl of pleasure. That got me another kiss, and the change in angle had me gasping into his mouth. His free hand was dancing leisurely across my body, fond, teasing touches everywhere, until I was flustered into a gratified frenzy of confusion, and all the while his perfect lips were on mine, kissing, speaking, encouraging me, and soon there was nothing left of the sad, angry creature that had confronted him with boredom earlier tonight.
When he came I had a lightning-fast flash of the first time we were together: it was that same blank, angelic face, and for an instant all the fury and unease I'd felt ever since that encounter flared up in me. Then it was gone, and all that was left was his slick, pliant body and the miraculous revelation of his lips on mine. I followed him almost immediately - that's how used to each other we were by then - and I swallowed his moan, my hands cupping his face worshipfully. I got another smile, serene and satisfied, and it dimly occurred to me that everything, all this, being a virtual pet, might be worth it just to see it again.
Afterwards, lying in my bed, my arms wrapped around his beautiful body and my head pillowed comfortably on his shoulder, I felt blissful. Really. I wasn't thinking about why he'd done this, or what would happen later. I was barely thinking at all.
Sakito sighed into my hair, his slender fingers stroking lightly against my scalp.
“Are you staying?” I heard myself mumble, lulled by his petting hand.
“Yes.” He was quiet for a minute. “But don't get ahead of yourself, okay? Don't get excited.”
“I want to see you tomorrow,” I told him, twisting to press my lips to the smooth juncture of his neck and shoulder, not bothering to analyse what he'd said. I felt him give a tight little smile against my forehead.
“Mm.” He began to stroke the curve of my ear, fingertips gliding over the piercings, and I felt myself growing drowsy. The last thing I heard before I dropped unwillingly into sleep was his thoughtful murmur. “Time to put my leash on you, Ruka. Time to rein you in.”
“I didn't think you meant literally,” I complained the following night from my kneeling position, dropping my head uncomfortably to allow him access to the back of my neck.
“Indulge me,” said Sakito, sounding as though there was no possibility of me doing anything else, his slim calf braced firmly against my spine. I was about to tell him that I'd thought better of the whole thing when he gave a tug to one of the buckles, snapping my head back and stopping the breath in my throat.
“Fucking ow!”
“There,” Sakito said with finality, hand slipping up to caress my chin before he let me go and came round to crouch in front of me. “That's better.” I watched him with an expressionless stare (well, that's what I was going for) as he sat back on his heels and examined the thick leather collar he had just fastened around my neck. Where, when, and most importantly why had he bought it, that's what I wanted to know!
“How does it feel?” he asked curiously, dark eyes giving a brief sparkle of excitement. His pale cheeks were showing two faint spots of colour, and I could tell how pleased the sight of me made him. Oh, and smug. Don't forget smug.
“Cheesy,” I snapped, demoralised and cursing myself for thinking that last night's tenderness had meant something. “This is tacky even for you.”
Sakito tossed his pretty head, not deigning to reply; he just hooked two fingers through the sturdy metal ring adorning the front of the collar and pulled.
“Don't,” I growled warningly. Admitting that I was in total thrall to Sakito was one thing; letting him tug me around like a dog on a lead was quite another. His answer to that was to yank me further forward, forcing me to throw a hand out to keep my balance; I felt a short, sharp pang of arousal, which made me even angrier. Sakito took a cool glance at my face and jerked me closer, wrenching my neck painfully, until I could feel his rapid breath against my lips.
“You look just fine like this,” he whispered.
“I look like an idiot.”
“...So what're you going to do about it?” He twisted his fingers and the thick leather tightened around my throat. Without even thinking about it I knocked his hand away and slammed him down roughly on his back, pushing myself between his legs. Sakito smiled defiantly and arched up against me, exhaling sharply in satisfaction as he felt me hard and excited against his thigh. I groaned silently to myself: was I really that predictable?
“Take it off,” I told him furiously, trying to ignore the slow roll of his hips against mine. I didn't know why I couldn't remove the damn collar myself; but, looking at him, something stopped me, and with a thrill of dismay I realised there was a part of me that wanted it. He licked his exquisite lips and I caught my breath, remembering his taste.
“I want it on.” He ran his fingers beneath the collar and I shuddered as he spoke against my ear. “My big, bad-tempered, obedient dog...”
That was enough. I really was going to hit him this time, I didn't care what happened to that face. I raised my hand, and in a flash his arm was around my neck and he was kissing me. His tongue slid between my teeth and I heard myself give a low moan into his mouth; then I was lost.
If I took away any lesson, it was this: don't bite the hand that feeds you, and you might get fed. And I learned it well.
It was always the same, after that night: if Sakito was in the mood to be hurt he'd let me; if not he'd get that look in his eye, that soft, amorous look, and the next thing I knew his sweet lips would be on mine and I'd find myself making love to him like...well, like I loved him.
I don't, you know. I used to, like I love the others, like you love your best friends. So I know what it feels like; and I miss it. I want him back, that cute, vain, dorky Saki everyone gets to enjoy except me. The thing is, when I'm with him, drowning in the beauty of his body and tangled in the net of control he's woven so skilfully around me, it's very hard to remember wanting anything else.
*****
I'm still trying to remember it while I'm sitting in a hotel bar in Osaka, waiting for him to call. We're on tour again, small livehouses this time, and our set lists read like a retrospective of our entire lives together, songs that reach back to before Ultimate Circus, even. The nostalgia is intense and has thrown me into a month-long mood of focused, melancholy discontent, because every live draws me back to a time when we were straightforward and perfect together, Sakito and I and all of us, before any of this began. It was Sakito's idea, the Mimic the Past theme; and I'm still wondering why.
Right now I'm wondering slightly drunkenly; some of the guys and their techs went out partying after tonight's live, Sakito included, but I stayed behind in the hotel bar, because...well, I guess I've explained why. So here I am, drinking and waiting for Sakito to message me and summon me to his bed to tell me what a good boy I've been, just like he promised he would. They're back now, though I've seen neither hide nor hair of him; I only know it because Ni~ya-chan has decided to come and keep me company, hastening my tipsiness with his lightning-fast consumption of rounds of Jack Daniels.
I check my phone surreptitiously. He must be pleased with me, I stayed behind, after all, even knowing perfectly well by now why he likes it this way. And he always rewards me. Nearly always. Sometimes. Fuck.
“What's with you?” asks Ni~ya-chan, knocking back another drink and breaking in on my thoughts. “So bloody fidgety!” I hastily stop fiddling with my phone, and take a calming breath.
“Don't know what you're talking about.”
“You've got this look on...like a dog waiting for his dinner.” This, as you may have gathered by now, has become a dirty word for me ever since Sakito collared me that night, and without meaning to I snap at him.
“Lay the fuck off. I do not.”
“Come off it,” says Ni~ya-chan, unperturbed. “I can practically see your tail wagging!” He realises he's hit a nerve, and stares at me curiously, mouth quirked up at the corner.
I growl at him, hackles rising (see? I'm even thinking in these fucking metaphors!), and he grins wider, waiting. And suddenly I've had enough, because he's right; I've known it for a long time, but Ni~ya-chan is the first person to vocalise it: I am Sakito's dog, and hearing it out loud has an electric effect.
I'm on my feet in one swift movement, and I can feel the tension, the urge, thrumming through every muscle. Ni~ya-chan raises his eyebrows, but I ignore him because if I don't take advantage of this galvanising moment I'll never forgive myself. I set my glass down carefully.
“Tired already?” says Ni~ya-chan, mildly surprised, as if it wasn't 2.30 in the morning. I am. That's exactly what I am: I'm tired of this, of being his, of him; I'm especially tired, right now, of being left down here, unsummoned and lonely. And it's time to put an end to it. I stalk out of the bar, my feet finding the stairs in the darkness; he's up there, and even now I can feel his pull, his presence, drawing me towards him like a bloodhound on the trail. But I don't want to be his dog any more. No. I want to be a wolf.
As I approach his corridor I find myself baring my teeth in something that isn't a smile. It's a better metaphor: wolves don't have masters. I reach his door. Edokawa Sakito, hear me howl!
His door is unlocked, and I slide soundlessly inside, toeing my shoes off in the entrance to pad silently across the room in the half-dark. Sakito is here; I sense him before I see him, his slim figure almost buried in the deep duvet like a flower under snow. He's asleep: I can hear his soft breathing, his body limp and relaxed in the covers' embrace.
He's beautiful. God, he is, and it hits me like it always does as I approach him, noiseless, ears pricked for any signs of waking. I hover anxiously by his bed, not daring to touch it in case he registers me. He looks completely serene like this, delicate features smooth and innocent of any of the expressions he uses to keep me in my place when he's awake. I let my gaze travel down his body, thoughtfully; he's so very slender, and I could hurt him really, really badly if I wanted to. I do want to. I consider the brand new wolf inside me, and it says: stop considering. Stop thinking. You want an end to this? That's what claws and teeth are for!
I flex my fingers automatically; I don't think I've ever been as aware of my own body as I am now, and it's a heady feeling; coupled with the months of caged, resentful anger I've built up inside me, it would be so very easy to take care of things this way.
I begin to lean over him, scarcely a thought left in my head, when the dull gleam of metal catches my eye: his phone. It's clutched loosely in his pale fingers as if he were in the middle of typing when he fell asleep. Perhaps...perhaps he was messaging me. Maybe he did plan to reward me, after all. And all of a sudden the dog is back and wants its master, and the wolf is being dragged, shackled and snarling, back into the dark. God-fucking-dammit.
No doubt the next few minutes would look both creepy and hilarious to anyone watching, as I stand beside his bed and let my instincts war with each other, the tame and the wild, in complete silence. Probably I'm wearing a totally stupid face, and my fingers might twitch occasionally as the wolf urges me to go for the throat, but that's about it.
In the end I decide to compromise: I won't use violence. Yet. It's something Sakito has always encouraged, relished in me in any case, and though I know it would feel good I'm not sure how effective it would be. I'm going to hurt him; I'm sure of that. But I've got a brain, so I'll try using that first. Wolves...they're cunning, right? So maybe I can figure out how to injure him in a way that won't get me arrested and that will leave me my liberty, if not my career.
I'm still thinking it out when he shifts, one limber, graceful stretch. Then he's awake. He opens his eyes and gives a little start as he sees my looming shape in the dimness.
“Sakito,” I greet him, fists clenched where he can't see them.
“...Oh,” says Sakito, sitting up amid the covers. “It's you.” For a moment he blinks sleepily, then appears to sharpen up; he peers down at his phone. “I never finished texting you. But here you are for your reward...” His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and it takes every bit of my effort to hide the battle still raging behind my eyes.
“No.” Oh good, I sound calm. More or less. Sakito wakes up a bit more and reaches out languidly to grab my wrist.
“No?” He frowns prettily as I tug my arm back, clearly puzzled. “Come on. I promised. I want you.”
“Not now.” He's pink and warm with sleep, the lovely curves of his lips parting thoughtfully as he regards me, and nothing has ever been so hard as finishing this sentence in the face of all that beauty. “Not ever. I...don't want this any more, Saki, I came to tell you. It's over.”
Sakito gives me the same look of astonishment you'd give your pet chihuahua if it upped and started talking to you. I think I'm getting through to him. But no, he just shoots me one of his pitying smiles and leans up towards me, taking hold of my belt, nails scraping deliciously through my tshirt. I feel a rush of pure panic because the well-trained part of me wants to respond, to give all this up and revel in the pleasure only my master's touch can bring; and as I'm teetering on the brink the wolf slips its chain and bounds forward.
Without pausing to think and without my brain's permission I raise my arm and strike him hard and fast across the face, hand curled loosely. His head snaps to the side and I catch his sharp exclamation of pain and surprise. All at once I'm excited, staring down at him, breath coming rapidly. But I know that for a warning sign: I have to stop, now, because this is a feeling I need to avoid if I'm ever going to win against him. It feels too good when I let myself go, and I can't think straight if I do.
“I don't want you,” I tell him coldly, mastering the overwhelming desire to hit him again; the wolf slinks sulkily back to its den.
Sakito is exactly as I left him, hand to his cheek where one of my nails has torn a thin, jagged line of red into his skin. Claws, indeed. As I draw my body back under control he turns to look up at me, and to my horror I see his fine eyes gleaming with the familiar defiant arousal I know has been reflected in my own glare a hundred times since we began this travesty of a relationship. This is the first time I've gone so far as to really hit him, and the intensity shining out of him is appalling. And dangerous.
“That hurt, Ruka,” says Sakito, sounding both shocked and impressed. No, no no! This is exactly what I just decided wouldn't happen. But I can feel my hands tremble, my entire body quivering with the urge to hurt him and make him happy. The obedient dog says please him, because he's beautiful and compelling and because I need an owner. The wolf says tear him to shreds. It's much the same either way, and can only end badly, because I don't know if he could stop me or if he would even try.
He gives me an apprehensive, eager stare, the lovely lines of him tense and expectant. My upper lip curls back from my teeth in a silent growl. But I won't do this. I won't. For what seems an age we remain frozen in place, waiting to see if I'll master myself. And, slowly and painfully, I do it. But all that thwarted energy and anger has to go somewhere; I struggle to keep my mouth shut, and fail.
“What is wrong with you?” I demand ferociously. “The usual Freudian nightmare?” Oh god. My tongue is about to stampede. “Is there some big traumatic event in your past that means you can only relate to your lovers when they're beating the shit out of you?! So the only way you can feel good about yourself is making them feel, like, an inch tall afterwards? Tell me there is, and I'll try and get my head round it, because nothing about you makes any sense.”
“Sorry,” says Sakito, with an inappropriate level of dignity for someone who's being raved at by a neurotic madman. “But there isn't. There really isn't.” He looks almost apologetic about it, and still disturbingly horny.
“Then I suppose you're just a psychopath.”
“Me!” he retorts mildly, my hand print glowing on his cheek. “I'm not the one snarling like a fucking police dog gone rabid.”
“No, you just want to fuck with me until one of us is ready for the emergency room or the psych ward.” I rein myself in until my voice sounds almost the way I want it, chilly and derisive as his has always been with me. “That's normal.” He doesn't like that, I can tell, but he's still supremely confident. He swings his legs round to sit with ankles crossed on the bed and settles in to watch me make a fool of myself.
“I don't need it any more,” I tell him, seething beneath my skin and cold on the surface. “If I want sexy crazy I'll just watch Silence of the Lambs and get over it.”
“You know you'll never-” begins Sakito, with a curl of his delicate lip.
“Never what?” I interrupt him, because if I let him get going I'll lose my flow. “Never get over it? Never find someone as good as you for the likes of me?” He rolls his eyes and subsides. “That's just you all over, isn't it. You're so fucking pretty and you think it makes you a better person than everyone around you. Well, you're not! Behind that face and that body, what is there?” I gesture coolly from his head to his toes. “You tell people you're insecure, and easily taken in, and that's why you never show your feelings. But you and I know perfectly well that it's because you barely have any. You are one cold bitch, Sakito. That beautiful face, the way you look so serene? It's a mask, yeah, but the thing you don't like people finding out is that there's nothing underneath it.”
I note that Sakito's mouth has dropped open slightly during the course of this statement, but I have no time to be happy about it, not if I hope to get through every one of his faults before the sun comes up.
“That's why my songs get picked for singles first,” I add, in a flash of inspiration. He cocks his head, puzzled, lips now pressed in a tight, thoughtful line. “They're not as complicated as yours, I know, but even when they're just scraps of paper and a drum track the other guys get them, there are feelings in them, see? But you need Yomi to give yours life, 'cos apart from this one vein of crazy” - I wave my hand about to indicate the general madness of our relationship - “you're as shallow as fucking Barbie.”
“...For a shallow bitch who writes such mediocre music,” he remarks snappishly, “I think I do all right. At least I have a social life.” I skip over the obvious fact that my current lack of friends is almost entirely due to him, and dive back in with my next thought.
“Of course you do,” I agree easily. “Because you're beautiful and successful. You think anyone would look twice at you without your body or your band?”
“...Yes.”
“Maybe you are as naïve as you say you are.” I give him a patronising glance, which feels great. “People don't like you, and you only keep them around if they're people you can use. You're a user, Sakito, even if you don't know it. But I think you do.”
“That isn't true,” he whispers.
“Is that why you've kept Hitsu-kun pinned to your side since you were school kids?” I ask, cruelly. “Because you need him near you to give other people the illusion that there's some warmth to you? He's so sweet, he'd never think any worse of you even if he noticed. But it's not a generous thing to do. And let's not even get on to what you've been doing to me.”
“If that's what you think of me,” says Sakito, and for the first time I detect the barest hint of injured pride in his low voice, “then that's fine.”
“It is.” I set my hands on my hips. “And I'll tell you what else I think...” I see him wince; it's well hidden, but it's there. I let my smile of satisfaction burn in my eyes.
I continue my cold, furious spiel of accurate observations on his character - and there are plenty of them - until he's pale and trembling with anger under the sting of it. I never thought Sakito would cry under anyone's insults, let alone mine; but he's close.
At last I run out of things to say, once I've finished exposing every one of his vices and twisting his virtues so they seem almost as bad. I've done what I wanted, what the wolf wanted: I've torn him apart from the outside in, and I barely had to lay a finger on him. I come to a halt, panting. It felt every bit as good as I thought it would, as fierce and savage as he has always liked me.
Sakito is crying now, though I can't see it: face curtained by his long hair and utterly silent, the only thing that gives him away is the quiver of his narrow shoulders. Or he could be laughing. God, what if he's laughing? I ball my hands as I wait, nails biting into my palms in the effort to stay composed.
He raises his head, and I see it's both: the tears are spilling over his lashes, and he's smiling through them. I don't know what he expects me to do, so I just raise my eyebrows icily and keep quiet. He observes this, and grins wider. Then he heaves a shuddering sigh and straightens up. Collecting my courage, I look him in the eyes, and see...I don't know what. Maybe I should leave while I still have the last word, and worry about my future tomorrow. But before I can move he astonishes me by holding out his right hand.
“All right,” he says, voice tremulous where he's been crying but otherwise perfectly calm. “You win.”
“...What?” is all I can come up with. Sakito shakes his head briefly, a pained expression flashing across his bruising face.
“You're a son of a bitch, Ruka,” he continues. “I never thought you'd have the front. But you did. You win. We're done.”
“I...What's with the damn smile, then?” I demand, unnerved. He wipes his eyes.
“No-one...has ever spoken to me like that before. No-one's ever hurt me like that.” I sniff coolly.
“Yeah, well. No-one knows you like I do.”
“Out of everyone who's taken up the challenge,” Sakito says, “nobody has played the game as well as you. No-one's ever got this far, or been this good.” He sounds truly impressed.
“The game.” Is that what this is? All this? He is fucking crazy. I sit down heavily on the bed beside him, and he shifts along obligingly to make room. And, bizarrely, I barely feel the creep of danger and desire that always edges over my skin when I'm in close proximity with him. I take a moment to congratulate myself; I'm sure it's because I've finally gained the upper hand. But beyond that, it's something in him that's changed, and all I'm getting off him now is the satisfied, exhausted comradeship between one master craftsman and another. Or athletes, or fighters. Or something like that. “Want to explain?” I ask, finally.
“People are so easy,” he says quietly, sniffing. I pass him a tissue. “You were, at first. Getting you to focus your entire self on me, all that hate and adoration and passion. Feels amazing, right? Bad or good, doesn't matter; just intense.” I stare at him; well, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting the truth of it. He sighs. “And most people never get further than that. Guys, girls, they're the same: after a while they get boring. But you...It was harder to keep your attention. Had to go to the next stage.”
“Which is?” As if I didn't know. But this is fascinating, in a sick sort of way.
“Isolation. Not many people get that far. But you weren't taking it seriously, I didn't have a choice.” He gives a reminiscing smile. “And it's not like it was such a chore, rewarding you.”
“Thanks a bunch. And then?” I prompt him, like a kid prodding at a loose tooth to see how far he can twist it before it hurts.
“Ahh...You know. You must remember. You were bored again. And I didn't want to lose you...so I kissed you.” How could I not remember? Of all the months we spent playing this 'game,' that was the one perfect night. I'll never forget it. Sakito rubs absently at his cut cheek. “Only one person has ever forced my hand like that before. And even she never made it to the end. No-one but you, Ruka. No-one has done what you've done.”
“...What have I done?” I ask, curious. This is the weirdest praise I've ever received.
“Hurt me,” he states, and laughs again. I start to open my mouth, but he isn't finished. “Oh, I'm not talking about sex. Though if it means anything, you were the best at that too. Really. So vicious.” He sighs regretfully. “But no. I mean tonight. You're the first person to leave me of their own volition. And the first to make me feel...this.” He sets one slender hand over his chest.
“Am I supposed to know what that means? Make you feel what?” He closes his eyes for a moment, and two lingering tears creep down his cheeks.
“Anything. Anything this profound towards another person.” I must look totally befuddled, because he apparently feels the need to explain himself. “It's not that I'm some kind of robot. I feel things. But my life is so good, the feelings...they're all bright and safe and comfortable. And I...”
“And you want the darkness.” Amazing. I know exactly what he's talking about now, and it's almost funny that he has to work so hard to feel something that comes so naturally to me. “You really are a masochist, aren't you.”
“Well, you've called me worse things tonight.”
“You're an idiot.” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “And that's what you've been fucking up my life for? That's why you made me your dog? So you could enjoy the emotional equivalent of extreme potholing?”
“The best I've ever had.” Sakito bumps his shoulder against my arm. I twitch away from him, more out of habit than anything else. He shrugs. “I'd keep you if I could. You're a pretty volatile pet, but you'd make a great guard dog.” He grins at my expression. “Too soon?”
“Much,” I say tightly, grimacing at the metaphor.
“I know,” admits Sakito. “That's why I said you've won. It could never be as good again. I suppose...it's time to pick someone new.”
“It never was good.”
“Maybe not for you,” he says, looking both resigned and deeply satisfied. “But for me...I couldn't ask for a better opponent.”
“I'm not interested in being your damn opponent!” I wonder if I'll feel the same in the future, lying in my bed and remembering the marvels of his body. Yes. I'm pretty sure I will. Sakito gives me a level look, beautiful eyes red-rimmed and benign.
“How about a bandmate?”
“I...Yes,” I say, after a moment's reflection. It's a whole hell of a lot more than I'd expected to come out of this with, and more than he could have hoped for. He must know it, how lucky he is to walk away tonight with just an aching cheek, his body and band intact. “For now...I think I can manage that.”
“And after that?”
“...We'll see.” I narrow my eyes. “So long as you always remember that Nightmare is mine to lead. You can play around with it to your heart's content, you can even boss me about at work if you like. You may have been my master, but don't forget: I am your leader. Okay?”
“Done,” says Sakito, and this time when he holds out his hand I shake it. The touch of his skin is still a forerunner of pain and pleasure; guess my body will take some time to unlearn the lessons beaten into it, and for a second I feel a wash of regret that I'll never feel him naked and pressed against me again. But that's a small price to pay to finally feel like a person. The thought is liberating, and once I let go I find I'm smiling at him, faint and bitter but a smile all the same; because however beautiful and screwed up he is and however low I've sunk for him in the past, Sakito and I are the same, at last.
I'm not a wolf. And I'm nobody's dog. I'm human.
THE END
*****
Well, there you have it. That was cheery, wasn't it!
And remember, ladies and gentlemen, if you're planning to have angry sex with your friends and colleagues, make sure to play safe XD
There's quite a lot of metaphor going on in the Cherish lyrics. But recently I was reading Call of the Wild and White Fang, so the dog thing kind of came out on top ^^;
If you want to read more angry plotless sex, here's a recent Ruka x Ni~ya PWP I did:
Read Roxanne
Thank you for reading as always, and I hope you enjoyed it!
More to come from me soon.
Group: Nightmare
Pairing: Ruka x Sakito
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The trials and tribulations of being a pet.
Continuing from part 1...
So you see, Sakito has more than one ace up his sleeve when it comes to keeping my entire panting, eager self fixed on him. The reward system works frighteningly well, and his quiet, matter-of-fact sexual favours are a potent magnet. But his primary method, until very recently at least, has always been the dogfight; though what he's planning to get out of it in the long run is anyone's guess.
There are two distinct possibilities, and, when I'm in my right mind long enough to think clearly, neither are particularly appealing: he taunts me into violence again and again, and it's either because he needs me to come at him so he can break me down and break me in until I'm perfectly trained and docile, or because he gets a thrill when I'm a vicious, biting bundle of fury and he wants to see me sink even lower. But I'm too ragged, too besotted and angry and sore to work out which would please him most, and oh, I want to please him.
Remember Sakito's photoshoot last year? Yeah, that one. God, it was beautiful: naked as the day he was born, with nothing but a guitar separating music magazine from top-shelf porno. Not that it made much difference: when our manager brought the proof copy round we all took one look at it, gaped, then rushed straight out and bought it. I shudder to think how many staff members' skin bins have have gone up a whole level of class thanks to the purchase.
Sakito was nervous about it beforehand, he said. But he wasn't, not really, not even after he'd told us about it and we'd leched at him, open-mouthed, for about half an hour before giving him our blessing. Sakito was made to be naked, and I should know.
We had a huge fight over it, all the same. I told him (not quite truthfully) that he looked like a whore, mostly because I knew exactly how he'd react, and I was right: he cracked me across the jaw, and once my ears had stopped ringing I had the perfect excuse to grab him by the hair and wrestle him down onto the workstation at his back. He fought me all the way, scratching and hissing like a damn alleycat. Eventually I managed to shove him over onto his stomach, and then I fucked him across the desk and he had nowhere to go, his nimble musician fingers digging into the wood hard enough to raise splinters under his nails as I clamped one hand to the back of his neck. By the time he came he was a laughing, crying mess and I wasn't much better. Every time we did it I thought nothing could feel any worse or any more incredible, and each time he proved me wrong.
His hips were a kaleidoscope of bruises already; I licked my lips, panting, exhausted. He rolled over to give me his patented stare of disgust, somehow managing to look down his nose at me even while lying flat on his back.
“Fuck you,” I told him, and then, “are you okay?” He swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath, the quiver of those sweet lips guilting me into concern, as usual. My fingertips brushed his stomach, briefly, the skin silky smooth as a snake.
“...I didn't look like...what you said,” murmured Sakito, a questioning inflection in his unsteady voice. He sat up with difficulty and grabbed my belt-buckle so I couldn't walk away.
“No,” I admitted miserably. “No, you were beautiful.” He slid his arms around my waist, just for a moment, and I found myself inhaling the scent of his hair helplessly.
“Thank you.” Sakito reached for his trousers, and winced. “...Help me get dressed.”
I was feeling guilty, so I did; I'd been very rough on him. Kneeling at his feet, smoothing the tight denim up his legs, I caught him smiling down at me in private amusement. And once again I thought to myself: what am I doing?
I was more and more conscious of it, see, as the months sped by and the same cycle went on repeating itself. And even the most exhilarating, damning pattern of events will lose its spice when you know exactly what's coming next. Sakito was still cruel, and marvellous, and sex-and-violence games with him were always utterly thrilling, so much so that I'd lose myself in the moment completely. But I was starting to see past the moment, past the pleasure and dull guilt and the mental self-flagellation I ended up wallowing in every time I came to heel.
I had to wonder how long we could keep this up.
I didn't think Sakito had the faintest idea that I was seriously considering a way out - as far as I could tell he didn't pay enough attention to my mind any more to notice what was going through it. So I let him carry on, and every day I felt something inside me draw a little further away from his influence. I was so proud of myself. For a while.
That's right, I underestimated him. Again. Because just as I had come to the inner decision that yes, I was bored of this, he did the cruellest, cleverest thing he could have done.
He kissed me.
*****
It should have been a routine evening. There was a drinking party somewhere off Harajuku, and for once it sounded kind of fun: Kei-kun would be there, and between him and Yomi I could hope for some pleasantly geeky chatter and harmless flirting. But, as usual, I responded to Sakito's hints like a good boy and went on home after work.
I was halfway through my bento, reading tipsy texts from Yomi, when I decided that I did want to go. Why shouldn't I? They were my friends too, and I was stronger now; maybe it was time to show Sakito that he didn't own me, that the marks he left on me were only skin deep after all. So off I went, and once I saw what a good time everyone was having I determined that I'd be doing this a lot more often. I'd almost forgotten what it was like.
I'd located Kei-kun and was deep in a nerds-only Akiba conversation when Sakito noticed me. I'd picked him out almost the moment I came in: for me, he shone out in the room like a beacon. I saw his gorgeous head freeze mid-turn, catching sight of me. His eyes widened and narrowed in the time it takes to inhale, and his lovely mouth set in an ambiguous line.
“Ruka?” said Kei-kun, prodding me lightly in the arm. I gave him a reassuring smile, and when I looked again Sakito had turned away. The deeply ingrained training that strove for his approval and cringed at his disappointment made me want to run to him, tail between my legs; that pissed me off, since I was meant to be testing my newly-found independence, and I resolved that I wouldn't go and apologise, and I wouldn't go home. I was having fun, dammit.
Sakito didn't come and speak to me. Occasionally I'd see him looking at me quietly, surrounded by the usual admiring colleagues, and although his expression was perfectly neutral I'd find myself fidgeting nervously under his gaze. But I held out until one in the morning, feeling very pleased with myself.
I should have expected the knock at my door, so soon after I arrived home that he must have followed me. I should also have ignored it. But I'd won my little victory, and I wanted to gloat about it.
“Ruka,” he greeted me ominously, gliding past me to the living room, presumably so we could have our scheduled row in comfort. “I thought you were staying home.”
“Changed my mind.” I kept my body angled away from him, indicating my refusal to engage. “Thought I ought to make a contribution for once.”
“And what contribution do you think you made?” asked Sakito sweetly, somehow managing to make his tone so insulting that the usual urge to punch him in the face set my fingers tingling. But I knew where that led, and if Sakito and I ended up having our usual shattering sex this whole defiant gesture would have been for nothing. So I chained the feeling and dragged it back, replacing it with righteous and carefully cultivated boredom.
He must have read my expression: his brows drew down for an instant in a real scowl, and his head rose even more proudly on that long neck. I put on my most laconic face and braced myself for his assault, determined not to rise to it no matter how cruel he was.
“You-” he began.
“Don't bother.” I was thrilled: I could do this!
Sakito nodded briefly and stepped towards me. I raised my hands reflexively; I didn't want to fight him, not tonight, but my body was poised and ready of its own accord to stop him hurting me. He took no notice of my defensive stance, just slipped into my space, features blank and giving no warning of what he was about to do. I grabbed him by the shoulders, ready to shove him away. Then he kissed me.
It was like the first time he slapped me, only a thousand times more shocking. And intense. And wonderful. His lips were smooth and yielding beneath mine, and as I drew him towards me helplessly to fold him in my arms he tipped his head back, fitting himself perfectly into my embrace. And I'm completely ashamed to say I didn't hesitate for a moment.
It took the barest nudge to get him to open up, and then I tasted him and it was the most intimate thing I had ever done. My tongue brushed his, daringly, but he didn't bite, just slipped his arms softly around my neck and let me take his weight, and I was glad to do it, forgetting my resentment, all the hard-won distance I'd put between us.
“Saki...” I said feebly, as he paused to snatch a breath. “...What's this for...?” His fingertips were gentle on the nape of my neck, and I felt myself flinch with expected pain, a sharp lesson left over from the first time I'd fucked him. But it never came.
“For you.” He whispered it against my mouth, surging up to meet me. For a moment I floundered in confusion, not sure if I should be on the attack or the defence or just delighted; but he was warm and fragrant and delicious, and in the end I had no choice but to roll over and adore him. Remember, I was fucking starved for affection after what felt like an age of strict discipline and punishment, and he knew it. He made me more his in those few seconds than he had in all the long months that preceded them.
“Saki, I-”
“Shhh.” Sakito's fingers trailed musingly down my torso, grasping the hem of my tshirt delicately and pulling it in one smooth movement over my head. With a few light touches he manoeuvred me over to my sofa, and I folded up beneath him as my legs hit. He kissed me again. “Down. Quiet.” And for once in my life I obeyed him without complaint, just a faint whine of surprise and pleasure as his lips left my mouth to brush along my throat and down the centre of my chest. He paused often, sliding back up to kiss me again, my hands buried in his long hair, and the whole thing was so unhurried and exploratory that I hardly knew how I should be reacting.
Another pause, this time to press his flushed cheek against my chest, and I was sure he could hear the rapturous beat of my heart; and right then, believe me, it was beating all for him. To my amazement he didn't give the usual possessive, derisive smirk at this sign of desire, but let the curve of his lips part just a little in a real smile. Then more of those kisses, until I thought I could flow all to pieces beneath him and it wouldn't matter because it was so good.
Sakito removed his clothes quietly (another landmark event, since he and I rarely managed to have sex without at least a few ripped seams and lost buttons), radiant above me as he slid my underwear down. I let him have it all his own way, and even though I was underneath him right now in a strictly physical sense, I didn't feel beneath him. And that was the first time that had ever happened.
“Ready?” he asked. As if he needed to ask. I nodded wordlessly, still too obedient to his earlier words and befuddled by his sweetness to speak. He took my wrists, sliding my hands over the curve of his ass to his narrow waist, and submitted to being lifted. Then I was inside him and his lashes fluttered closed for a moment as he sank down on my erection, leaning forward when I began to move him.
“Nnn...” He braced a hand on my shoulder, rising lithe and supine above me, the satin curtain of his hair spilling down behind one ear, where silver and diamonds leapt and sparkled in the light. “...Good?” he breathed, another first, and I could do nothing but give him a low, adoring growl of pleasure. That got me another kiss, and the change in angle had me gasping into his mouth. His free hand was dancing leisurely across my body, fond, teasing touches everywhere, until I was flustered into a gratified frenzy of confusion, and all the while his perfect lips were on mine, kissing, speaking, encouraging me, and soon there was nothing left of the sad, angry creature that had confronted him with boredom earlier tonight.
When he came I had a lightning-fast flash of the first time we were together: it was that same blank, angelic face, and for an instant all the fury and unease I'd felt ever since that encounter flared up in me. Then it was gone, and all that was left was his slick, pliant body and the miraculous revelation of his lips on mine. I followed him almost immediately - that's how used to each other we were by then - and I swallowed his moan, my hands cupping his face worshipfully. I got another smile, serene and satisfied, and it dimly occurred to me that everything, all this, being a virtual pet, might be worth it just to see it again.
Afterwards, lying in my bed, my arms wrapped around his beautiful body and my head pillowed comfortably on his shoulder, I felt blissful. Really. I wasn't thinking about why he'd done this, or what would happen later. I was barely thinking at all.
Sakito sighed into my hair, his slender fingers stroking lightly against my scalp.
“Are you staying?” I heard myself mumble, lulled by his petting hand.
“Yes.” He was quiet for a minute. “But don't get ahead of yourself, okay? Don't get excited.”
“I want to see you tomorrow,” I told him, twisting to press my lips to the smooth juncture of his neck and shoulder, not bothering to analyse what he'd said. I felt him give a tight little smile against my forehead.
“Mm.” He began to stroke the curve of my ear, fingertips gliding over the piercings, and I felt myself growing drowsy. The last thing I heard before I dropped unwillingly into sleep was his thoughtful murmur. “Time to put my leash on you, Ruka. Time to rein you in.”
“I didn't think you meant literally,” I complained the following night from my kneeling position, dropping my head uncomfortably to allow him access to the back of my neck.
“Indulge me,” said Sakito, sounding as though there was no possibility of me doing anything else, his slim calf braced firmly against my spine. I was about to tell him that I'd thought better of the whole thing when he gave a tug to one of the buckles, snapping my head back and stopping the breath in my throat.
“Fucking ow!”
“There,” Sakito said with finality, hand slipping up to caress my chin before he let me go and came round to crouch in front of me. “That's better.” I watched him with an expressionless stare (well, that's what I was going for) as he sat back on his heels and examined the thick leather collar he had just fastened around my neck. Where, when, and most importantly why had he bought it, that's what I wanted to know!
“How does it feel?” he asked curiously, dark eyes giving a brief sparkle of excitement. His pale cheeks were showing two faint spots of colour, and I could tell how pleased the sight of me made him. Oh, and smug. Don't forget smug.
“Cheesy,” I snapped, demoralised and cursing myself for thinking that last night's tenderness had meant something. “This is tacky even for you.”
Sakito tossed his pretty head, not deigning to reply; he just hooked two fingers through the sturdy metal ring adorning the front of the collar and pulled.
“Don't,” I growled warningly. Admitting that I was in total thrall to Sakito was one thing; letting him tug me around like a dog on a lead was quite another. His answer to that was to yank me further forward, forcing me to throw a hand out to keep my balance; I felt a short, sharp pang of arousal, which made me even angrier. Sakito took a cool glance at my face and jerked me closer, wrenching my neck painfully, until I could feel his rapid breath against my lips.
“You look just fine like this,” he whispered.
“I look like an idiot.”
“...So what're you going to do about it?” He twisted his fingers and the thick leather tightened around my throat. Without even thinking about it I knocked his hand away and slammed him down roughly on his back, pushing myself between his legs. Sakito smiled defiantly and arched up against me, exhaling sharply in satisfaction as he felt me hard and excited against his thigh. I groaned silently to myself: was I really that predictable?
“Take it off,” I told him furiously, trying to ignore the slow roll of his hips against mine. I didn't know why I couldn't remove the damn collar myself; but, looking at him, something stopped me, and with a thrill of dismay I realised there was a part of me that wanted it. He licked his exquisite lips and I caught my breath, remembering his taste.
“I want it on.” He ran his fingers beneath the collar and I shuddered as he spoke against my ear. “My big, bad-tempered, obedient dog...”
That was enough. I really was going to hit him this time, I didn't care what happened to that face. I raised my hand, and in a flash his arm was around my neck and he was kissing me. His tongue slid between my teeth and I heard myself give a low moan into his mouth; then I was lost.
If I took away any lesson, it was this: don't bite the hand that feeds you, and you might get fed. And I learned it well.
It was always the same, after that night: if Sakito was in the mood to be hurt he'd let me; if not he'd get that look in his eye, that soft, amorous look, and the next thing I knew his sweet lips would be on mine and I'd find myself making love to him like...well, like I loved him.
I don't, you know. I used to, like I love the others, like you love your best friends. So I know what it feels like; and I miss it. I want him back, that cute, vain, dorky Saki everyone gets to enjoy except me. The thing is, when I'm with him, drowning in the beauty of his body and tangled in the net of control he's woven so skilfully around me, it's very hard to remember wanting anything else.
*****
I'm still trying to remember it while I'm sitting in a hotel bar in Osaka, waiting for him to call. We're on tour again, small livehouses this time, and our set lists read like a retrospective of our entire lives together, songs that reach back to before Ultimate Circus, even. The nostalgia is intense and has thrown me into a month-long mood of focused, melancholy discontent, because every live draws me back to a time when we were straightforward and perfect together, Sakito and I and all of us, before any of this began. It was Sakito's idea, the Mimic the Past theme; and I'm still wondering why.
Right now I'm wondering slightly drunkenly; some of the guys and their techs went out partying after tonight's live, Sakito included, but I stayed behind in the hotel bar, because...well, I guess I've explained why. So here I am, drinking and waiting for Sakito to message me and summon me to his bed to tell me what a good boy I've been, just like he promised he would. They're back now, though I've seen neither hide nor hair of him; I only know it because Ni~ya-chan has decided to come and keep me company, hastening my tipsiness with his lightning-fast consumption of rounds of Jack Daniels.
I check my phone surreptitiously. He must be pleased with me, I stayed behind, after all, even knowing perfectly well by now why he likes it this way. And he always rewards me. Nearly always. Sometimes. Fuck.
“What's with you?” asks Ni~ya-chan, knocking back another drink and breaking in on my thoughts. “So bloody fidgety!” I hastily stop fiddling with my phone, and take a calming breath.
“Don't know what you're talking about.”
“You've got this look on...like a dog waiting for his dinner.” This, as you may have gathered by now, has become a dirty word for me ever since Sakito collared me that night, and without meaning to I snap at him.
“Lay the fuck off. I do not.”
“Come off it,” says Ni~ya-chan, unperturbed. “I can practically see your tail wagging!” He realises he's hit a nerve, and stares at me curiously, mouth quirked up at the corner.
I growl at him, hackles rising (see? I'm even thinking in these fucking metaphors!), and he grins wider, waiting. And suddenly I've had enough, because he's right; I've known it for a long time, but Ni~ya-chan is the first person to vocalise it: I am Sakito's dog, and hearing it out loud has an electric effect.
I'm on my feet in one swift movement, and I can feel the tension, the urge, thrumming through every muscle. Ni~ya-chan raises his eyebrows, but I ignore him because if I don't take advantage of this galvanising moment I'll never forgive myself. I set my glass down carefully.
“Tired already?” says Ni~ya-chan, mildly surprised, as if it wasn't 2.30 in the morning. I am. That's exactly what I am: I'm tired of this, of being his, of him; I'm especially tired, right now, of being left down here, unsummoned and lonely. And it's time to put an end to it. I stalk out of the bar, my feet finding the stairs in the darkness; he's up there, and even now I can feel his pull, his presence, drawing me towards him like a bloodhound on the trail. But I don't want to be his dog any more. No. I want to be a wolf.
As I approach his corridor I find myself baring my teeth in something that isn't a smile. It's a better metaphor: wolves don't have masters. I reach his door. Edokawa Sakito, hear me howl!
His door is unlocked, and I slide soundlessly inside, toeing my shoes off in the entrance to pad silently across the room in the half-dark. Sakito is here; I sense him before I see him, his slim figure almost buried in the deep duvet like a flower under snow. He's asleep: I can hear his soft breathing, his body limp and relaxed in the covers' embrace.
He's beautiful. God, he is, and it hits me like it always does as I approach him, noiseless, ears pricked for any signs of waking. I hover anxiously by his bed, not daring to touch it in case he registers me. He looks completely serene like this, delicate features smooth and innocent of any of the expressions he uses to keep me in my place when he's awake. I let my gaze travel down his body, thoughtfully; he's so very slender, and I could hurt him really, really badly if I wanted to. I do want to. I consider the brand new wolf inside me, and it says: stop considering. Stop thinking. You want an end to this? That's what claws and teeth are for!
I flex my fingers automatically; I don't think I've ever been as aware of my own body as I am now, and it's a heady feeling; coupled with the months of caged, resentful anger I've built up inside me, it would be so very easy to take care of things this way.
I begin to lean over him, scarcely a thought left in my head, when the dull gleam of metal catches my eye: his phone. It's clutched loosely in his pale fingers as if he were in the middle of typing when he fell asleep. Perhaps...perhaps he was messaging me. Maybe he did plan to reward me, after all. And all of a sudden the dog is back and wants its master, and the wolf is being dragged, shackled and snarling, back into the dark. God-fucking-dammit.
No doubt the next few minutes would look both creepy and hilarious to anyone watching, as I stand beside his bed and let my instincts war with each other, the tame and the wild, in complete silence. Probably I'm wearing a totally stupid face, and my fingers might twitch occasionally as the wolf urges me to go for the throat, but that's about it.
In the end I decide to compromise: I won't use violence. Yet. It's something Sakito has always encouraged, relished in me in any case, and though I know it would feel good I'm not sure how effective it would be. I'm going to hurt him; I'm sure of that. But I've got a brain, so I'll try using that first. Wolves...they're cunning, right? So maybe I can figure out how to injure him in a way that won't get me arrested and that will leave me my liberty, if not my career.
I'm still thinking it out when he shifts, one limber, graceful stretch. Then he's awake. He opens his eyes and gives a little start as he sees my looming shape in the dimness.
“Sakito,” I greet him, fists clenched where he can't see them.
“...Oh,” says Sakito, sitting up amid the covers. “It's you.” For a moment he blinks sleepily, then appears to sharpen up; he peers down at his phone. “I never finished texting you. But here you are for your reward...” His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and it takes every bit of my effort to hide the battle still raging behind my eyes.
“No.” Oh good, I sound calm. More or less. Sakito wakes up a bit more and reaches out languidly to grab my wrist.
“No?” He frowns prettily as I tug my arm back, clearly puzzled. “Come on. I promised. I want you.”
“Not now.” He's pink and warm with sleep, the lovely curves of his lips parting thoughtfully as he regards me, and nothing has ever been so hard as finishing this sentence in the face of all that beauty. “Not ever. I...don't want this any more, Saki, I came to tell you. It's over.”
Sakito gives me the same look of astonishment you'd give your pet chihuahua if it upped and started talking to you. I think I'm getting through to him. But no, he just shoots me one of his pitying smiles and leans up towards me, taking hold of my belt, nails scraping deliciously through my tshirt. I feel a rush of pure panic because the well-trained part of me wants to respond, to give all this up and revel in the pleasure only my master's touch can bring; and as I'm teetering on the brink the wolf slips its chain and bounds forward.
Without pausing to think and without my brain's permission I raise my arm and strike him hard and fast across the face, hand curled loosely. His head snaps to the side and I catch his sharp exclamation of pain and surprise. All at once I'm excited, staring down at him, breath coming rapidly. But I know that for a warning sign: I have to stop, now, because this is a feeling I need to avoid if I'm ever going to win against him. It feels too good when I let myself go, and I can't think straight if I do.
“I don't want you,” I tell him coldly, mastering the overwhelming desire to hit him again; the wolf slinks sulkily back to its den.
Sakito is exactly as I left him, hand to his cheek where one of my nails has torn a thin, jagged line of red into his skin. Claws, indeed. As I draw my body back under control he turns to look up at me, and to my horror I see his fine eyes gleaming with the familiar defiant arousal I know has been reflected in my own glare a hundred times since we began this travesty of a relationship. This is the first time I've gone so far as to really hit him, and the intensity shining out of him is appalling. And dangerous.
“That hurt, Ruka,” says Sakito, sounding both shocked and impressed. No, no no! This is exactly what I just decided wouldn't happen. But I can feel my hands tremble, my entire body quivering with the urge to hurt him and make him happy. The obedient dog says please him, because he's beautiful and compelling and because I need an owner. The wolf says tear him to shreds. It's much the same either way, and can only end badly, because I don't know if he could stop me or if he would even try.
He gives me an apprehensive, eager stare, the lovely lines of him tense and expectant. My upper lip curls back from my teeth in a silent growl. But I won't do this. I won't. For what seems an age we remain frozen in place, waiting to see if I'll master myself. And, slowly and painfully, I do it. But all that thwarted energy and anger has to go somewhere; I struggle to keep my mouth shut, and fail.
“What is wrong with you?” I demand ferociously. “The usual Freudian nightmare?” Oh god. My tongue is about to stampede. “Is there some big traumatic event in your past that means you can only relate to your lovers when they're beating the shit out of you?! So the only way you can feel good about yourself is making them feel, like, an inch tall afterwards? Tell me there is, and I'll try and get my head round it, because nothing about you makes any sense.”
“Sorry,” says Sakito, with an inappropriate level of dignity for someone who's being raved at by a neurotic madman. “But there isn't. There really isn't.” He looks almost apologetic about it, and still disturbingly horny.
“Then I suppose you're just a psychopath.”
“Me!” he retorts mildly, my hand print glowing on his cheek. “I'm not the one snarling like a fucking police dog gone rabid.”
“No, you just want to fuck with me until one of us is ready for the emergency room or the psych ward.” I rein myself in until my voice sounds almost the way I want it, chilly and derisive as his has always been with me. “That's normal.” He doesn't like that, I can tell, but he's still supremely confident. He swings his legs round to sit with ankles crossed on the bed and settles in to watch me make a fool of myself.
“I don't need it any more,” I tell him, seething beneath my skin and cold on the surface. “If I want sexy crazy I'll just watch Silence of the Lambs and get over it.”
“You know you'll never-” begins Sakito, with a curl of his delicate lip.
“Never what?” I interrupt him, because if I let him get going I'll lose my flow. “Never get over it? Never find someone as good as you for the likes of me?” He rolls his eyes and subsides. “That's just you all over, isn't it. You're so fucking pretty and you think it makes you a better person than everyone around you. Well, you're not! Behind that face and that body, what is there?” I gesture coolly from his head to his toes. “You tell people you're insecure, and easily taken in, and that's why you never show your feelings. But you and I know perfectly well that it's because you barely have any. You are one cold bitch, Sakito. That beautiful face, the way you look so serene? It's a mask, yeah, but the thing you don't like people finding out is that there's nothing underneath it.”
I note that Sakito's mouth has dropped open slightly during the course of this statement, but I have no time to be happy about it, not if I hope to get through every one of his faults before the sun comes up.
“That's why my songs get picked for singles first,” I add, in a flash of inspiration. He cocks his head, puzzled, lips now pressed in a tight, thoughtful line. “They're not as complicated as yours, I know, but even when they're just scraps of paper and a drum track the other guys get them, there are feelings in them, see? But you need Yomi to give yours life, 'cos apart from this one vein of crazy” - I wave my hand about to indicate the general madness of our relationship - “you're as shallow as fucking Barbie.”
“...For a shallow bitch who writes such mediocre music,” he remarks snappishly, “I think I do all right. At least I have a social life.” I skip over the obvious fact that my current lack of friends is almost entirely due to him, and dive back in with my next thought.
“Of course you do,” I agree easily. “Because you're beautiful and successful. You think anyone would look twice at you without your body or your band?”
“...Yes.”
“Maybe you are as naïve as you say you are.” I give him a patronising glance, which feels great. “People don't like you, and you only keep them around if they're people you can use. You're a user, Sakito, even if you don't know it. But I think you do.”
“That isn't true,” he whispers.
“Is that why you've kept Hitsu-kun pinned to your side since you were school kids?” I ask, cruelly. “Because you need him near you to give other people the illusion that there's some warmth to you? He's so sweet, he'd never think any worse of you even if he noticed. But it's not a generous thing to do. And let's not even get on to what you've been doing to me.”
“If that's what you think of me,” says Sakito, and for the first time I detect the barest hint of injured pride in his low voice, “then that's fine.”
“It is.” I set my hands on my hips. “And I'll tell you what else I think...” I see him wince; it's well hidden, but it's there. I let my smile of satisfaction burn in my eyes.
I continue my cold, furious spiel of accurate observations on his character - and there are plenty of them - until he's pale and trembling with anger under the sting of it. I never thought Sakito would cry under anyone's insults, let alone mine; but he's close.
At last I run out of things to say, once I've finished exposing every one of his vices and twisting his virtues so they seem almost as bad. I've done what I wanted, what the wolf wanted: I've torn him apart from the outside in, and I barely had to lay a finger on him. I come to a halt, panting. It felt every bit as good as I thought it would, as fierce and savage as he has always liked me.
Sakito is crying now, though I can't see it: face curtained by his long hair and utterly silent, the only thing that gives him away is the quiver of his narrow shoulders. Or he could be laughing. God, what if he's laughing? I ball my hands as I wait, nails biting into my palms in the effort to stay composed.
He raises his head, and I see it's both: the tears are spilling over his lashes, and he's smiling through them. I don't know what he expects me to do, so I just raise my eyebrows icily and keep quiet. He observes this, and grins wider. Then he heaves a shuddering sigh and straightens up. Collecting my courage, I look him in the eyes, and see...I don't know what. Maybe I should leave while I still have the last word, and worry about my future tomorrow. But before I can move he astonishes me by holding out his right hand.
“All right,” he says, voice tremulous where he's been crying but otherwise perfectly calm. “You win.”
“...What?” is all I can come up with. Sakito shakes his head briefly, a pained expression flashing across his bruising face.
“You're a son of a bitch, Ruka,” he continues. “I never thought you'd have the front. But you did. You win. We're done.”
“I...What's with the damn smile, then?” I demand, unnerved. He wipes his eyes.
“No-one...has ever spoken to me like that before. No-one's ever hurt me like that.” I sniff coolly.
“Yeah, well. No-one knows you like I do.”
“Out of everyone who's taken up the challenge,” Sakito says, “nobody has played the game as well as you. No-one's ever got this far, or been this good.” He sounds truly impressed.
“The game.” Is that what this is? All this? He is fucking crazy. I sit down heavily on the bed beside him, and he shifts along obligingly to make room. And, bizarrely, I barely feel the creep of danger and desire that always edges over my skin when I'm in close proximity with him. I take a moment to congratulate myself; I'm sure it's because I've finally gained the upper hand. But beyond that, it's something in him that's changed, and all I'm getting off him now is the satisfied, exhausted comradeship between one master craftsman and another. Or athletes, or fighters. Or something like that. “Want to explain?” I ask, finally.
“People are so easy,” he says quietly, sniffing. I pass him a tissue. “You were, at first. Getting you to focus your entire self on me, all that hate and adoration and passion. Feels amazing, right? Bad or good, doesn't matter; just intense.” I stare at him; well, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting the truth of it. He sighs. “And most people never get further than that. Guys, girls, they're the same: after a while they get boring. But you...It was harder to keep your attention. Had to go to the next stage.”
“Which is?” As if I didn't know. But this is fascinating, in a sick sort of way.
“Isolation. Not many people get that far. But you weren't taking it seriously, I didn't have a choice.” He gives a reminiscing smile. “And it's not like it was such a chore, rewarding you.”
“Thanks a bunch. And then?” I prompt him, like a kid prodding at a loose tooth to see how far he can twist it before it hurts.
“Ahh...You know. You must remember. You were bored again. And I didn't want to lose you...so I kissed you.” How could I not remember? Of all the months we spent playing this 'game,' that was the one perfect night. I'll never forget it. Sakito rubs absently at his cut cheek. “Only one person has ever forced my hand like that before. And even she never made it to the end. No-one but you, Ruka. No-one has done what you've done.”
“...What have I done?” I ask, curious. This is the weirdest praise I've ever received.
“Hurt me,” he states, and laughs again. I start to open my mouth, but he isn't finished. “Oh, I'm not talking about sex. Though if it means anything, you were the best at that too. Really. So vicious.” He sighs regretfully. “But no. I mean tonight. You're the first person to leave me of their own volition. And the first to make me feel...this.” He sets one slender hand over his chest.
“Am I supposed to know what that means? Make you feel what?” He closes his eyes for a moment, and two lingering tears creep down his cheeks.
“Anything. Anything this profound towards another person.” I must look totally befuddled, because he apparently feels the need to explain himself. “It's not that I'm some kind of robot. I feel things. But my life is so good, the feelings...they're all bright and safe and comfortable. And I...”
“And you want the darkness.” Amazing. I know exactly what he's talking about now, and it's almost funny that he has to work so hard to feel something that comes so naturally to me. “You really are a masochist, aren't you.”
“Well, you've called me worse things tonight.”
“You're an idiot.” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “And that's what you've been fucking up my life for? That's why you made me your dog? So you could enjoy the emotional equivalent of extreme potholing?”
“The best I've ever had.” Sakito bumps his shoulder against my arm. I twitch away from him, more out of habit than anything else. He shrugs. “I'd keep you if I could. You're a pretty volatile pet, but you'd make a great guard dog.” He grins at my expression. “Too soon?”
“Much,” I say tightly, grimacing at the metaphor.
“I know,” admits Sakito. “That's why I said you've won. It could never be as good again. I suppose...it's time to pick someone new.”
“It never was good.”
“Maybe not for you,” he says, looking both resigned and deeply satisfied. “But for me...I couldn't ask for a better opponent.”
“I'm not interested in being your damn opponent!” I wonder if I'll feel the same in the future, lying in my bed and remembering the marvels of his body. Yes. I'm pretty sure I will. Sakito gives me a level look, beautiful eyes red-rimmed and benign.
“How about a bandmate?”
“I...Yes,” I say, after a moment's reflection. It's a whole hell of a lot more than I'd expected to come out of this with, and more than he could have hoped for. He must know it, how lucky he is to walk away tonight with just an aching cheek, his body and band intact. “For now...I think I can manage that.”
“And after that?”
“...We'll see.” I narrow my eyes. “So long as you always remember that Nightmare is mine to lead. You can play around with it to your heart's content, you can even boss me about at work if you like. You may have been my master, but don't forget: I am your leader. Okay?”
“Done,” says Sakito, and this time when he holds out his hand I shake it. The touch of his skin is still a forerunner of pain and pleasure; guess my body will take some time to unlearn the lessons beaten into it, and for a second I feel a wash of regret that I'll never feel him naked and pressed against me again. But that's a small price to pay to finally feel like a person. The thought is liberating, and once I let go I find I'm smiling at him, faint and bitter but a smile all the same; because however beautiful and screwed up he is and however low I've sunk for him in the past, Sakito and I are the same, at last.
I'm not a wolf. And I'm nobody's dog. I'm human.
THE END
*****
Well, there you have it. That was cheery, wasn't it!
And remember, ladies and gentlemen, if you're planning to have angry sex with your friends and colleagues, make sure to play safe XD
There's quite a lot of metaphor going on in the Cherish lyrics. But recently I was reading Call of the Wild and White Fang, so the dog thing kind of came out on top ^^;
If you want to read more angry plotless sex, here's a recent Ruka x Ni~ya PWP I did:
Read Roxanne
Thank you for reading as always, and I hope you enjoyed it!
More to come from me soon.