Gravitation, "Sentimental" -- Happy birthday, Eiri!
Title: Sentimental
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Eiri x Shuichi, Riku
Rating: Light R for implicit sexual content
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
A/N: Slight spoilers for Gravitation Ex.
Dedication: Happy birthday, Eiri!
Shuichi was going to be on tour during Eiri’s birthday. The day he found out, he ran home in tears and threw himself at the writer’s feet, begging for forgiveness. Eiri just rolled his eyes, said it didn’t matter to him, and kicked at Shuichi’s head.
The night before he left, he wouldn’t stop talking during sex.
“I promise,” he panted into the sensitive skin of Eiri’s ear, “I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
Eiri growled at him, jerked his head away. He spread Shuichi’s legs open and pulled them tight around his waist. He leaned down as he pushed inside, scraping his teeth along Shuichi’s heaving chest, biting down and making marks that would fade before the night was over. Shuichi’s hips jerked, back arched, his fingers dug into Eiri’s arms as he eased in deeper and deeper, growing harder and harder.
“Y-Yuki!” Shuichi groaned, his head tilted back, his eyelids falling shut. “I promise, on the night of your birthday, I’ll give you a shout-out, I’ll-I’ll dedicate a song to you-”
“Hush.” Eiri bit at Shuichi’s lip, tugged. A moan caught in the singer’s throat.
“But I will,” he insisted, breathless. “I promise.”
Eiri scowled and pulled out, ignoring Shuichi’s protests. He turned the body beneath him over and thrust back inside, pushing at Shuichi’s head, pressing his face into his pillow.
“I won’t watch it,” he muttered, irritation overpowered only by lust. “Now shut up.”
-
On the day of his birthday, Eiri had a tape in to record the concert. He wasn’t going to watch when it aired; it wasn’t that important.
He spent the day ignoring phone calls, writing little, and trying not to think about anything that might cause a headache-age and past birthdays, Shuichi and the lack of Shuichi. Riku hadn’t bothered him much, probably because that morning over breakfast, Eiri told him, “Look, kid, it’s my birthday today, so don’t bother me.” He didn’t regret his words. Not at all.
He didn’t mind being alone. It was just another day. He was just another year older. There would be other days, other years, and Shuichi would be there, and Riku, and he would wish they wouldn’t be without really meaning it, but they would be and then this year would matter even less than it already did.
Eiri frowned and stood up from his desk. He’d been sitting still too long and was getting sentimental. He needed a beer. Beer was the most unsentimental thing in the world.
Except when there was a yellow ribbon tied around it.
He stared incredulously at the can in his hand. The yellow bow, lopsided and amateurish, stared back at him. This was ridiculous.
He started at the tug on his sleeve and looked down; he hadn’t even heard Riku come in.
“Hey, did you-”
“Happy birthday, Daddy.”
Eiri’s mouth opened and closed and he looked back at the beer. He couldn’t believe it. Even the beer had been tainted with sappiness. Was nothing sacred anymore?
Or, perhaps, nothing had been sacred before, and now everything suddenly was.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, voice slightly hoarse as he averted his eyes and popped open the can.
Riku smiled and hugged at Eiri’s legs, and the writer let a hand fall to rest softly on his head. And he drank his beer, and felt sentimental, and he didn’t care.
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Eiri x Shuichi, Riku
Rating: Light R for implicit sexual content
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
A/N: Slight spoilers for Gravitation Ex.
Dedication: Happy birthday, Eiri!
Shuichi was going to be on tour during Eiri’s birthday. The day he found out, he ran home in tears and threw himself at the writer’s feet, begging for forgiveness. Eiri just rolled his eyes, said it didn’t matter to him, and kicked at Shuichi’s head.
The night before he left, he wouldn’t stop talking during sex.
“I promise,” he panted into the sensitive skin of Eiri’s ear, “I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
Eiri growled at him, jerked his head away. He spread Shuichi’s legs open and pulled them tight around his waist. He leaned down as he pushed inside, scraping his teeth along Shuichi’s heaving chest, biting down and making marks that would fade before the night was over. Shuichi’s hips jerked, back arched, his fingers dug into Eiri’s arms as he eased in deeper and deeper, growing harder and harder.
“Y-Yuki!” Shuichi groaned, his head tilted back, his eyelids falling shut. “I promise, on the night of your birthday, I’ll give you a shout-out, I’ll-I’ll dedicate a song to you-”
“Hush.” Eiri bit at Shuichi’s lip, tugged. A moan caught in the singer’s throat.
“But I will,” he insisted, breathless. “I promise.”
Eiri scowled and pulled out, ignoring Shuichi’s protests. He turned the body beneath him over and thrust back inside, pushing at Shuichi’s head, pressing his face into his pillow.
“I won’t watch it,” he muttered, irritation overpowered only by lust. “Now shut up.”
-
On the day of his birthday, Eiri had a tape in to record the concert. He wasn’t going to watch when it aired; it wasn’t that important.
He spent the day ignoring phone calls, writing little, and trying not to think about anything that might cause a headache-age and past birthdays, Shuichi and the lack of Shuichi. Riku hadn’t bothered him much, probably because that morning over breakfast, Eiri told him, “Look, kid, it’s my birthday today, so don’t bother me.” He didn’t regret his words. Not at all.
He didn’t mind being alone. It was just another day. He was just another year older. There would be other days, other years, and Shuichi would be there, and Riku, and he would wish they wouldn’t be without really meaning it, but they would be and then this year would matter even less than it already did.
Eiri frowned and stood up from his desk. He’d been sitting still too long and was getting sentimental. He needed a beer. Beer was the most unsentimental thing in the world.
Except when there was a yellow ribbon tied around it.
He stared incredulously at the can in his hand. The yellow bow, lopsided and amateurish, stared back at him. This was ridiculous.
He started at the tug on his sleeve and looked down; he hadn’t even heard Riku come in.
“Hey, did you-”
“Happy birthday, Daddy.”
Eiri’s mouth opened and closed and he looked back at the beer. He couldn’t believe it. Even the beer had been tainted with sappiness. Was nothing sacred anymore?
Or, perhaps, nothing had been sacred before, and now everything suddenly was.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, voice slightly hoarse as he averted his eyes and popped open the can.
Riku smiled and hugged at Eiri’s legs, and the writer let a hand fall to rest softly on his head. And he drank his beer, and felt sentimental, and he didn’t care.