Fanfiction: Reasons to Hide (short MaoxMizuki one-shot)
Title: Reasons to Hide
Fandom: Sadie
Pairings: MaoxMizuki
Rating: NC17
Spoilers/Warnings: Smex and language
Disclaimers: I offered to feed both of them but both still refused to live with me.
A/N: This was written as a companion piece to aitakute's Reasons To Forgive that she wrote for me. This can be read as a standalone, but reading hers will give a more complete picture. Plus, there aren't enough MaoxMizuki fics out there ^_~
Summary: Mao's relationship with guitarist Mizuki puzzles even him at times. But as he observes him, he tries to work it out in his own way.
***
Bound roses, compare of roses, in proportion they're colors of loneliness.
At the beginning I was frightened of your impulse
Mixed verse are disappearing in disordered places, then even tomorrow is reasonable
Ah! Does my voice reach you?
- Sadie, Meisai (Camouflage)
***
I.
You wonder sometimes if he ever shuts up.
Your eyes narrow a little as you watch him natter on and on with the DJ about Sadie’s latest single over the hem of your leopard print scarf. Glowering slightly, you bury your face deeper into the fleecy material, partly to warm your nose, partly to hide your bored expression.
Still, you are grateful at times for his verbal diarrhea and Kei’s bouncy personality. It at least balances out Aki’s dead silence, Tsurugi’s occasional uncertainty and your own reticence.
However, as the lead singer, you never get off completely scot free, although you wonder how your idol does it. Still, their banter saves you from answering questions that are most of the time inane, but occasionally too close for comfort.
Like the time you received a question from that ludicrous capsule machine where a fan asked whether you and him were dating. Your first reaction had been to deny it vehemently, but what came out instead was a gentler “it’s not like that”.
And when Kei had quipped that the both of you should just date, it took all you had just to laugh it off. But you had wondered later about that curious look in his eyes and quizzical curve of his pout.
Sure you both hung out a lot, went shopping, and in general enjoyed each other’s company. But it didn’t automatically mean that you were dating.
“It’s not like that”
At that time it was true. It wasn’t now.
II.
Of all things, he likes chocolate mochi. Little nuggets of chocolate paste wrapped in dark rice skin and dusted with bittersweet cocoa. It’s almost as ridiculous as his love for surgically enhanced busty JPop singers and china doll bangs.
As he idly strums his guitar, he points to his mouth and parts his lips slightly to indicate that he wants another. A part of you would balk at acting like his servant if it weren’t for the fact that every time he does it, you get hard.
Rolling your eyes, you pick another off the tray and pop it in his mouth. Normally you would then wipe your hands on a tissue but this time he manages to catch your fingertips in the corner of his mouth.
Your breathing quickens as he playfully sucks your fingers clean, wrapping that dexterous tongue of his around the digits. He gives you a dirty smirk as he lets them drop out of his mouth and goes back to his guitar and his snack.
He is always doing unconsciously sexy things like this. When he’s not playing with his full bottom lip that always makes him look like he’s pouting, he’s stretching his long torso and tugging down his jeans. In that position he is all creamy expanse of skin and flat stomach, something that you are amazed he maintains given how often you’ve fed him chocolate mochi.
But it’s his chirpiness that always gets to you. You don’t know how he does it. He could be tired out of his mind and yet still be bouncing off the walls the way he was during the live.
You on the other hand are trying your hardest not to fall asleep on your feet. But you suppose that is what drew you to him in the first place, a spark, a Joie de vivre, that you do not naturally possess.
As you look up at him again, you notice that the mochi is gone but his mouth still moves as if he is chewing gum. Over the years you have known him, you’ve come to recognise it as a habit, exacerbated by that lip ring of his.
“Doesn’t that mouth of yours ever stop moving?” you ask petulantly.
“Fuck off,” he responds without missing a heartbeat. You don’t think you will ever tell him how endearing he is to you in that moment.
Instead you see that he still has a smudge of chocolate decorating his bottom lip. Pushing his guitar away, you don’t think twice before tilting his chin upwards and kissing it clean.
III.
However, the next time you kiss something off his mouth, it’s not cocoa.
You watch his face intently as you slide your condom-covered cock into him slowly, inch by inch. Watching for any signs that he is in pain aside from the usual discomfort of getting fucked in the ass.
But you know there will be some bite when you push yourself inside him, not matter how much KY you’ve used. It can’t be avoided given your substantial size and girth. You still remember the startled look on his face the first time you dropped your pants in front of him.
To his credit he didn’t flinch aside from a slight quirk of an eyebrow. You breathed easier though when he grinned wickedly and said, “I always knew you were a big prick Mao”.
So instead, you just kiss him and kiss him, sucking in his breath as you try to distract him from the pain. The taste of your own semen on his lips makes the surface of your tongue become bitter.
He already made you come once and then sucked on you until you were hard again. His amazing blowjobs are in fact the reason why you persist on being gentle with him, despite the devilish way he whispers into your ear to take him harder.
To be frank, before he became your lover, you had actually enjoyed fucking more than blowjobs. No mouth could compare to how fucking amazing your cock felt planted deep inside someone else’s body.
But now, you have become hopelessly addicted to the feeling of those plush lips wrapped around your dick. Loving that small twinge of pain when his lip ring scrapes at your foreskin or digs into the tip of your cock. And he damn near takes out your knees when he gently tugs at the pierced head, teasing the sensitive nerves.
It has come to the point where you insist he blows you almost everywhere. In the studio, on the tour bus, in the corridor outside your apartment. Anywhere there was space where he could drop to his knees, you insisted he suck you.
But it was because he was so willing that you make sure every time the both of you sleep together, he gets a good fuck. And it only makes you smile behind your hand when you hear Kei asking him why on earth is he limping.
Placing your hands on either side of his body, you adjust your hips and thrust forward at an angle. When his body arches and trembles, you continue doing so until he grabs your shoulders and forces you to stop.
“God Mao…fuck….fuck….”
His mouth, you wish you could reach his mouth. But the discrepancy in your heights make it impossible, especially since he likes to throw his head back every time you cock hits something right.
You try to hide your frustration by groaning into his chest, sucking and biting on his nipples in lieu of his mouth. But he knows the language of your body too well.
Before you can even blink, you are on your back with him firmly seated in your lap. His dark hair tumbles in rakish waves around his face as he leans forward to kiss you hard before pulling away with a wink.
In this position, height doesn’t matter, the gesture says.
You mirror his grin as you buck upwards and make his back curve. He moans as you expertly fist his cock, rubbing the sensitive underside repeatedly against your stomach until he cums all over your chest.
He falls on top of you as you continue to thrust, trying hard to reach your own orgasm now that he has had his. You hiss as he licks his semen off your skin and around that delicate piercing around at the base of your neck that never seems to heal.
“Come on Mao.”
That is the last thing you hear before he slams back roughly on your cock and you feel it twitch inside him. You let loose a growl from the depths of your throat as you feel yourself filling the condom and wishing that it was his body instead.
“Someday, maybe,” you think as you bring him close to kiss his hair.
IV.
Of all CD’s in the shelf, why on earth does he pick up that one?
You give him a furtive look out of the corner of our eye as you see him pick up UROBOROS and run his fingertips over the cover. You know he likes the band, but he doesn’t worship it the way you do.
He knows very well whom it is you idolise. Hell, the whole world knows it given how clearly you wear it not only on your sleeve, but also in the cut and colour of your hair and the timbre of your voice.
But sometimes you wonder whether he has something for Kyo, given the way he stares at him when he thinks you aren’t looking. It makes you wonder if he is comparing the both of you.
Do you match up?
But the answer doesn’t matter really as you finally find the CD you want and quickly link arms with him. He smiles and there is no doubt who it is that makes him happy.
“Let’s go Mizuki.”
V.
As you both wait in the wings to go out for your encore, you find yourself unabashedly staring at him. Noticing how his bangs are soaked in sweat and are plastered against his forehead.
You don’t care really when he realises how openly you are staring at him. After all, he does it to you all the time, so you figured that fair is fair.
But he should give you some credit. Even before you both were dating, you knew how much he wanted you. His need for you written clearly in the iris of his eyes.
The only difference between the two of you is, you are much better at hiding how much you need him too.
***
End
***
Fandom: Sadie
Pairings: MaoxMizuki
Rating: NC17
Spoilers/Warnings: Smex and language
Disclaimers: I offered to feed both of them but both still refused to live with me.
A/N: This was written as a companion piece to aitakute's Reasons To Forgive that she wrote for me. This can be read as a standalone, but reading hers will give a more complete picture. Plus, there aren't enough MaoxMizuki fics out there ^_~
Summary: Mao's relationship with guitarist Mizuki puzzles even him at times. But as he observes him, he tries to work it out in his own way.
***
Bound roses, compare of roses, in proportion they're colors of loneliness.
At the beginning I was frightened of your impulse
Mixed verse are disappearing in disordered places, then even tomorrow is reasonable
Ah! Does my voice reach you?
- Sadie, Meisai (Camouflage)
***
I.
You wonder sometimes if he ever shuts up.
Your eyes narrow a little as you watch him natter on and on with the DJ about Sadie’s latest single over the hem of your leopard print scarf. Glowering slightly, you bury your face deeper into the fleecy material, partly to warm your nose, partly to hide your bored expression.
Still, you are grateful at times for his verbal diarrhea and Kei’s bouncy personality. It at least balances out Aki’s dead silence, Tsurugi’s occasional uncertainty and your own reticence.
However, as the lead singer, you never get off completely scot free, although you wonder how your idol does it. Still, their banter saves you from answering questions that are most of the time inane, but occasionally too close for comfort.
Like the time you received a question from that ludicrous capsule machine where a fan asked whether you and him were dating. Your first reaction had been to deny it vehemently, but what came out instead was a gentler “it’s not like that”.
And when Kei had quipped that the both of you should just date, it took all you had just to laugh it off. But you had wondered later about that curious look in his eyes and quizzical curve of his pout.
Sure you both hung out a lot, went shopping, and in general enjoyed each other’s company. But it didn’t automatically mean that you were dating.
“It’s not like that”
At that time it was true. It wasn’t now.
II.
Of all things, he likes chocolate mochi. Little nuggets of chocolate paste wrapped in dark rice skin and dusted with bittersweet cocoa. It’s almost as ridiculous as his love for surgically enhanced busty JPop singers and china doll bangs.
As he idly strums his guitar, he points to his mouth and parts his lips slightly to indicate that he wants another. A part of you would balk at acting like his servant if it weren’t for the fact that every time he does it, you get hard.
Rolling your eyes, you pick another off the tray and pop it in his mouth. Normally you would then wipe your hands on a tissue but this time he manages to catch your fingertips in the corner of his mouth.
Your breathing quickens as he playfully sucks your fingers clean, wrapping that dexterous tongue of his around the digits. He gives you a dirty smirk as he lets them drop out of his mouth and goes back to his guitar and his snack.
He is always doing unconsciously sexy things like this. When he’s not playing with his full bottom lip that always makes him look like he’s pouting, he’s stretching his long torso and tugging down his jeans. In that position he is all creamy expanse of skin and flat stomach, something that you are amazed he maintains given how often you’ve fed him chocolate mochi.
But it’s his chirpiness that always gets to you. You don’t know how he does it. He could be tired out of his mind and yet still be bouncing off the walls the way he was during the live.
You on the other hand are trying your hardest not to fall asleep on your feet. But you suppose that is what drew you to him in the first place, a spark, a Joie de vivre, that you do not naturally possess.
As you look up at him again, you notice that the mochi is gone but his mouth still moves as if he is chewing gum. Over the years you have known him, you’ve come to recognise it as a habit, exacerbated by that lip ring of his.
“Doesn’t that mouth of yours ever stop moving?” you ask petulantly.
“Fuck off,” he responds without missing a heartbeat. You don’t think you will ever tell him how endearing he is to you in that moment.
Instead you see that he still has a smudge of chocolate decorating his bottom lip. Pushing his guitar away, you don’t think twice before tilting his chin upwards and kissing it clean.
III.
However, the next time you kiss something off his mouth, it’s not cocoa.
You watch his face intently as you slide your condom-covered cock into him slowly, inch by inch. Watching for any signs that he is in pain aside from the usual discomfort of getting fucked in the ass.
But you know there will be some bite when you push yourself inside him, not matter how much KY you’ve used. It can’t be avoided given your substantial size and girth. You still remember the startled look on his face the first time you dropped your pants in front of him.
To his credit he didn’t flinch aside from a slight quirk of an eyebrow. You breathed easier though when he grinned wickedly and said, “I always knew you were a big prick Mao”.
So instead, you just kiss him and kiss him, sucking in his breath as you try to distract him from the pain. The taste of your own semen on his lips makes the surface of your tongue become bitter.
He already made you come once and then sucked on you until you were hard again. His amazing blowjobs are in fact the reason why you persist on being gentle with him, despite the devilish way he whispers into your ear to take him harder.
To be frank, before he became your lover, you had actually enjoyed fucking more than blowjobs. No mouth could compare to how fucking amazing your cock felt planted deep inside someone else’s body.
But now, you have become hopelessly addicted to the feeling of those plush lips wrapped around your dick. Loving that small twinge of pain when his lip ring scrapes at your foreskin or digs into the tip of your cock. And he damn near takes out your knees when he gently tugs at the pierced head, teasing the sensitive nerves.
It has come to the point where you insist he blows you almost everywhere. In the studio, on the tour bus, in the corridor outside your apartment. Anywhere there was space where he could drop to his knees, you insisted he suck you.
But it was because he was so willing that you make sure every time the both of you sleep together, he gets a good fuck. And it only makes you smile behind your hand when you hear Kei asking him why on earth is he limping.
Placing your hands on either side of his body, you adjust your hips and thrust forward at an angle. When his body arches and trembles, you continue doing so until he grabs your shoulders and forces you to stop.
“God Mao…fuck….fuck….”
His mouth, you wish you could reach his mouth. But the discrepancy in your heights make it impossible, especially since he likes to throw his head back every time you cock hits something right.
You try to hide your frustration by groaning into his chest, sucking and biting on his nipples in lieu of his mouth. But he knows the language of your body too well.
Before you can even blink, you are on your back with him firmly seated in your lap. His dark hair tumbles in rakish waves around his face as he leans forward to kiss you hard before pulling away with a wink.
In this position, height doesn’t matter, the gesture says.
You mirror his grin as you buck upwards and make his back curve. He moans as you expertly fist his cock, rubbing the sensitive underside repeatedly against your stomach until he cums all over your chest.
He falls on top of you as you continue to thrust, trying hard to reach your own orgasm now that he has had his. You hiss as he licks his semen off your skin and around that delicate piercing around at the base of your neck that never seems to heal.
“Come on Mao.”
That is the last thing you hear before he slams back roughly on your cock and you feel it twitch inside him. You let loose a growl from the depths of your throat as you feel yourself filling the condom and wishing that it was his body instead.
“Someday, maybe,” you think as you bring him close to kiss his hair.
IV.
Of all CD’s in the shelf, why on earth does he pick up that one?
You give him a furtive look out of the corner of our eye as you see him pick up UROBOROS and run his fingertips over the cover. You know he likes the band, but he doesn’t worship it the way you do.
He knows very well whom it is you idolise. Hell, the whole world knows it given how clearly you wear it not only on your sleeve, but also in the cut and colour of your hair and the timbre of your voice.
But sometimes you wonder whether he has something for Kyo, given the way he stares at him when he thinks you aren’t looking. It makes you wonder if he is comparing the both of you.
Do you match up?
But the answer doesn’t matter really as you finally find the CD you want and quickly link arms with him. He smiles and there is no doubt who it is that makes him happy.
“Let’s go Mizuki.”
V.
As you both wait in the wings to go out for your encore, you find yourself unabashedly staring at him. Noticing how his bangs are soaked in sweat and are plastered against his forehead.
You don’t care really when he realises how openly you are staring at him. After all, he does it to you all the time, so you figured that fair is fair.
But he should give you some credit. Even before you both were dating, you knew how much he wanted you. His need for you written clearly in the iris of his eyes.
The only difference between the two of you is, you are much better at hiding how much you need him too.
***
End
***