[Fanfic] Convenient Misfortunes
Title: Convenient Misfortunes
Author: Sunaina
Fandom: NewS
Main pairing: Koyama/Shigeaki
Category: AU, Angst, Romance, Crack, Mystery
Rating: R
Summary: It has been 2 years since the last time Kato talked to Koyama.
A/N: OMG LOOK I'M UPDATING! FINALLY~! ::gets kicked:: DDDDDDDDD: btw thanks to the person that busted into the last chapter as the Cool-aid man! GOSH~ HOW I LOVE IT!
Chapter 1: Realization
Chapter 2: Confessions
Chapter 3: Impulses
Chapter 4: Impotence
Chapter 5: Fragments
Chapter 6: Bittersweet
Reality
It was no secret to anyone.
Koyama did and took everything he wanted. Self-indulgent as the typical rich boy he had always been, completely unrestrained and dissolute. He never asked for anything.
Everyone knew that. Shige came to learn it as well the first time they met.
Being barely 15, absolutely naïve and indifferent to most craves, Koyama kissed him for the first time. Shige didn’t resist, he didn’t know how. He gave in since the very beginning.
“You better say ‘no’ before it gets any hard,” Kusano had told him then. Had told him how much it would hurt for someone so easily led like him. How little he would be able to do once it started.
And Kusano was right.
Even few seconds after the kiss, Shige felt he could do nothing but wait for Koyama to come back someday and make love to him senseless. Even when he knew he had been a victim as the rest, just a tool to fulfil a passing desire. It was no help either that Koyama was always lurking around, constantly teasing, yearning for more.
Already aware of Koyama’s compulsive and capricious behaviour, Shige tried to forget about it. It was a petty kiss after all.
The day that petty kiss haunted Shige in his dreams, and became much more than just lips brushing. That day, Shige realized he was lost, and there was no point of return.
Fortunately, Tegoshi never found out about the kiss, even though Shige was sure that the boy wouldn’t have minded that much.
Always willing to please Shige, Tegoshi was too scared to do anything that could upset him. For that simple reason, Shige thought that, even when he had failed to reciprocate the love, he owed the poor boy some respect at least, and so Shige was determined to stop thinking of Koyama, no mattering what it could take.
But, easy said than done, Shige also learnt that the mere attempt to forget made the memory itself more vivid. It surprised him how easy it was to find an excuse to think of someone else. He knew it was wrong; he was longing for something that happened only in his mind, in a world unrestricted by the boring reality, where only existed him and Koyama, and their mouths, tasting and pleading, breathing in and out erratically, gasping names, crying out struggled sounds, louder and louder, and there were also Koyama’s hands, making everything whole, and nothing was still nor empty. In Shige’s mind, everything was opportune, in an almost clichéd sync, and he himself was shameless and willing, begging for things too dirty, too deviant for someone so young and innocent, and Koyama was complying, and pleasant, and perfect in every way.
It was not right. What Shige wanted wasn’t real. He wasn’t even sure it could be real.
One night, Shige’s dreams almost came true.
It had been pouring with rain the entire day, while inside the warm living room Shige rested over the couch, staring blankly at the so many open books scattered across the floor, his fingers idly playing with a worn pencil.
Two knocks were heard and Shige was already hurrying toward the door, running over the short distance from the living room to the front door.
Slowly, the boy pushed the door open, never wondering who could bother to pay a visit at such late hours, let along, who would drive or walk under the incessant rain just to see him.
Standing in the hall was a tall figure, soaking wet, water gathering on his hair ends and then falling heavily from the tall position.
Shige’s hand closed around the doorknob tighter. He stood there, feeling queasy, out of touch with everything, his limbs tickling in a dizzying manner. He smiled though, feeling his own temperature falling a few degrees, and the unwanted sensation of cold sweat running down the back of his head.
“Why are you here?” Shige asked, noticing too late he forgot to say hi as every normal person would have done. He then cleared his throat, and tried to laugh politely, but the attempt failed mid-way.
“You seem nervous,” was the only answer he got.
It was ridiculous to feel guilty or nervous at the least. Shige was innocent; he hadn’t done anything to feel bad about. He hadn’t done anything that could be acknowledged by others, and “others” was the key word for Shige knew his façade had been impeccable so far.
“Koyama, you need to go,” he said at last.
The sharp sound of the falling drops kept being heard among the long pauses.
“Why?” The older boy asked, smiling.
It was funny how Koyama turned a simple question into the most obvious rhetoric.
They were both alone. No one would find out ever. This sudden realization almost destroying what was left of Shige’s determination.
Koyama walked close enough for Shige to see his face under the lights that came from inside the apartment. He was still smiling so innocently, the dampness on his clothes and skin eliciting his deep fragrance.
Trying to ignore the early feeling of expectation growing inside, Shige clung to his fragile logic while so many thoughts were frenetically confusing his already overload senses.
“Please,” the boy begged over his fading will, but his own tone made him unsure of what he was begging for.
He let go of the knob, at last, the skin of his palm and fingers livid by the prolonged pressure. He took a breath, longer than usual, planning on using it to respond, to stop whatever was going to happen, but he almost had time to blink when Koyama’s arms slid around him, freezing hands caressing their way around Shige’s torso, curling almost crushingly and entirely in a possessive manner. Shige could barely suppress a shiver as Koyama kept leaning over, realizing leisurely that Koyama was heavy when demanding him to move, irregular weight that pushed him backwards in a clumsy, but slow dance, not hesitation though as they swayed over their feet into the hall.
“I’m not leaving,” Koyama whispered, quietly, almost docilely, the tip of his nose nearly brushing against Shige’s own while their surroundings kept revolving around them.
Shige raised his shoulders in that coy manner of him, and his shiny lips parted in an inconclusive protest. Koyama wondered if the boy actually thought he was helping at all his situation by playing the victim. Shige’s fists clutched at the sides of Koyama’s shirt, and then stopped mattering anymore whether the boy thought or not about resisting.
“I thought you were in love with that whiny kid.”
Shige looked up at Koyama, realizing he had almost forgotten about Tegoshi. Tegoshi loved him, and he was supposed to love him back. It was the right thing to do.
“But I guess things aren’t what they seem,” the older boy finished.
Shige’s gaze dropped, the grip of his hands loosening. “I am,” he whispered through quivering lips, fearing for a second the affirmation would have almost come out as an interrogative.
A long silence followed while they kept walking recklessly through the dark corridor. Shige barely noticed the interruption of their pace when Koyama’s direction changed, making them collide against a near wall, their forms crushing together in an amazingly fitting manner.
Koyama bowed down slightly, his wet bangs brushing against the other’s forehead, drops of rainwater trickling over Shige’s face, sliding down the silky surface just to lose their cold. Shige wondered if he could taste Koyama in the moisture that glided along his lips.
“Drop the act,” Koyama said suddenly, smiling kindly once again. Shige refused to look back, not sure if it was pride or simple timidity what made him indifferent. He just stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed in the dark background, completely reluctant to give any answer.
“Please.” Koyama’s palms pressed against the middle of Shige’s back, over the light fabric of his shirt, making the younger boy flinch at the touch, even though the hands didn’t feel cold anymore.
For a second, Shige wondered how long it would take for Koyama’s body to warm up entirely. He bit his lips, his tongue idly tasting the reminiscences of the rain. Heavy blood rushed everywhere inside, forcing a layer of ruddy tones to settle across his pale complexion. Shige moved his head away, cautiously, almost enjoying how perfectly opportune his body reactions were. Aware of the evident flush across his face, he suppressed the need to cover both of his cheeks with his hands, not wanting to let go of Koyama. He was afraid that letting go could make Koyama regret everything.
Koyama tilted his head, his face hovering so closely. Instinctively, Shige closed his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath, ready for what was coming next. A wave of hot breath hit against his cheeks, making him feel comically weightless, as that familiar numbness took over his knees completely.
“It hurts,” Koyama whispered suddenly, and moved away.
Shige’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion, looking up at the taller boy.
“Sometimes, I’m almost sure that you really love him, and I don’t think I can take it anymore.” Koyama hadn’t stopped smiling, his eyes looking back tenderly. It was amusing how Koyama’s gentle side seemed to calm down even more Shige’s already meek character.
Koyama said nothing more; he just kept walking, dragging Shige along.
As the lights from his own bedroom were reaching their figures, Shige took heed of the erratic track of Koyama’s muddy footprints that were left behind over the wooden floor. He would have to clean the traces in the morning; he wished Koyama could stay long enough to give him a hand.
“Don’t fight against it,” Koyama said in a quietening manner, and it was almost like a warning as they stepped into Shige’s room.
There was no chance to say anything at all when Koyama’s mouth was already against his ear, hushing sounds as the most severe of the orders.
It all looked different at late hours, or at least Shige believed so. Amused by the way the full moon cast a veil of silver light over every shape, mysterious shadows reaching so far. It was all like a dream, downing his whole will.
The younger boy opened his hands, letting go of the wet fabric of Koyama’s shirt. Turning around, he gazed at the most familiar of all scenarios.
Koyama allowed Shige to walk away, watching quietly as the other approached the bed, the wet marks of his embrace all over the boy’s shirt and creases where his fists had closed around, crushing the fabric.
Shige stood by the bed, looking down at the messy sheets, staring at the plain whiteness. Until then, there was nothing that could have let anyone know whose bed that was, and Shige had the vague feeling that was going to change.
“You are not stupid.” Koyama kept moving closer to Shige’s figure, his steps attracting the boy’s attention more than the statement itself. “This lane does have a turn, and you know that.”
If it weren’t for his obvious unease, Shige would have laughed at Koyama’s words.
“Would you let me take that turn?” Shige asked serenely, still not looking at the other boy.
“You are smart enough to figure out that as well.”
Shige remained on his feet, feeling an intense heat irradiating from Koyama’s body, tingling him so exasperatingly despite the fact that the older boy had been completely drenched in freezing water. He stood still, staring outside the window at the limpid drops falling, the inconstant tune of the rain almost deafening the sound of Koyama’s breathing.
Tegoshi loved the rain; he loved to be embraced by its warm moisture. Shige never understood why though, but, when the cold surface of Koyama’s lips came in contact with his neck, he couldn’t help but smile at the ironical resemblance it bore.
Fingers tucked inside his shirt, the tips barely touching. The inherent pressure in Koyama’s caresses gone, replaced by the tremulous pace of a childlike curiosity. Koyama’s mouth placed over his jawbone, nibbling slightly, and a warm tongue followed afterwards, calming the abused skin. Hands crawled further over the velvety skin, their warmth lulling Shige into complete surrender.
Little by little, Shige let his head fell backwards, the nape of his neck landing somewhere around Koyama’s right shoulder. Silently, he bore with the maddeningly slow motion of Koyama’s hands, suppressing every whimper, hiding every moan with dry gulps. He felt Koyama’s breath ruffling through his hair, hitting against his scalp and neck. Bringing peace to his inflamed senses, he closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment.
Hands roamed their way up Shige’s sides, dragging his shirt along, slipping under the inside of his arms, urging the boy to raise them, and Shige did so; his hands rose over leisurely as the piece of clothe was pulled over his head just to be tossed away across the room, landing soundly somewhere. The damp material of Koyama’s own shirt stuck to his bare skin, stuck them together.
Something went off that moment, turning everything into a haze, shutting up that voice in the back of their heads for good, leaving nothing but the motions and a slothful rhythm within every touch.
Shige’s arms found their way around Koyama’s neck, his hands gently caressing each feature, and fingers entwining with every lock of the damp hair, drawing the head closer, wanting to feel Koyama again. Between gasped breaths, Shige asked Koyama what took him so long, demanded an explanation.
“The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest,” Koyama answered, and soon there were lips pressing chaste kisses endlessly over the entire length of Shige’s neck, and Shige could feel a smirk stretching against his skin, then there was a tongue again, sliding everywhere, not wanting to conceal anymore. Every bit of temperance was gone, and Shige forgot about what Koyama just said, wanting nothing but the whole teasing to end.
Koyama’s hands placed back over Shige’s skin, pressing against the agitated chest, resuming the slow torture. Fingers crawled lower, outlining the delicate shapes of his sides, grazing all over his bare belly, tracing the slight elevation of the hipbones, and then tucking inside Shige’s sweat pants, sluggishly, over the underwear, so teasingly, pushing the elastic cuffs downwards, making the piece of clothe slip down the boy’s legs.
“I want to see your face,” Koyama ordered calmly, bringing everything to a halt for a moment.
Shige’s hands let go of Koyama’s hair, his arms returning by his sides. He stepped out of the pants that were still on the floor, getting away from Koyama’s ambiguous warmth so the distance between them could be enough for him to turn around. Koyama reached out for the boy, took his hands, pulling him to close the distance between them once more, smile on his face, but Shige couldn’t bring himself to look up at him, not when the past touches were still present, the sensations ghosting over his skin, crawling into places that hadn’t been touched yet.
Lissom fingers slid inside the band of Shige’s underwear, without a warning, and Koyama’s mouth pressed against his hair and over his ear, making hushing sounds. Shige looked at the front, over Koyama’s shoulder at the shadows changing forms under the dance of the curtains, held his breathe as the last clothe was dragged slowly down his legs. Everything so silent until he felt that piece of clothe landing over the floor, still around his ankles, his breath was loosened then in a quick whimper. Those same fingers were then over his back, just the tips, no pressure in the touch, just spreading warmth coming from those digits, and the cold air of the night punishing his exposure.
“Look at me.” Fingers sprawled into whole palms over Shige’s back hesitantly, embracing the form, pulling it closer.
Shige raised his head, staring into Koyama’s piercing eyes, knowing gaze even so. The boy swallowed, and something heavy went down his throat to settle inside his stomach, something that made him feel eager and yet so weak.
Before closing his eyes once again, Shige saw nothing but Koyama’s shoulders leaning over him, and the rest of his senses developed in sweet anticipation. The cold tip of Koyama’s nose pressed against his flushed cheek, a contrast almost painful. Hands caressed gently down the soft curve of the small of his back, and kept going lower, making Shige flinch. He closed his legs, joined his knees, and it was no use for all he knew Koyama wasn’t about to stop.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Koyama murmured against Shige’s temple, but he knew better the boy couldn’t help to squirm away, to tremble in his arms. Koyama didn’t mind actually. It was quite enthralling to gaze at Shige’s ethereal features wrinkling in response to the sensations, to watch the beautiful arc of his eyebrows furrowing, and his carmine lips parting in a bow, pleading very low.
For a split second, when lips were still pressing against his cheeks and hands were around his naked form, Shige wished Koyama weren’t so gentle. It made him feel like the rest. Like every other person that Koyama had lured into bed. Like if such sensations were the sweetest bait that led preys into a complete submission. Touches rehearsed endlessly, performance of a sick play that never failed to amuse its audience, breathing out forbidden words, sweet nothings that Shige longed to hear, wheedling the frail boy into a trap.
“Am I any different?” Shige asked, tone so intended, his eyes hidden behind messed fringes, avoiding Koyama’s puzzled gaze.
Somehow it seemed logical for Koyama to kiss Shige that moment, and so mouths touched at last, never moving, just pressed together. Koyama felt Shige’s lips throbbing against his own, almost pounding. Everything so still it was almost numbing.
“You’re perfect,” Koyama whispered quietly into Shige’s open mouth, smiling against the shaky surface.
Koyama kept staring back, unsure for what seemed the first time, waiting for Shige to give in completely.
That exact moment, Shige realized that, while dreams were simply perfect, in reality there were more than Koyama and him. There were also consequences, and broken hearts and wounds that would most likely never heal.
“I can’t do this,” were the last words Shige said to Koyama that night.
To be continued...
A/N: OMG KOYATO PORNLESS PORN! OMG THIS FIC IS A TEASE!!! OMG I'M NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!!! DDDDD: DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AT ALL? DID THIS CHAPTER MAKE THINGS ANY MORE CLEAR? ;O; IT'S LIKE A FLASHBACK, YOU GUYS! Thanks for reading <333~ I haven't been feeling too confident about my writing D: