FIC: "The Other," SanaAto, NC-17
because i really want to give something back to the lovely sanaato fans who have been making my past few days...
i just had to see how things would go if, in the course of writing my first NC-17, i gave sanada a dual personality in bed ;P slightly angsty, as sanaato should NEVER be. no setting, but it's certainly after graduation from middle school ^^;
i hope it doesn't completely suck... because it might be a while before i do anything like this again.
might still be edited. or might not. let's see in an hour or so. (*hearts* everyone) (gets aspirin)
The Other
by MorphailEffect
Atobe was summoned back to awareness by a caress so light he thought he was still dreaming.
He was blanketed, lying on a mattress, close to another warm body. It took him a few seconds to remember the name -- and when he did, it took him a while to relate it to what was going on.
No parts of their bodies touched -- only the other's large, callused hands moved lightly, freely over Atobe's bare skin. Now soft, now rough fingertips traced shapes on places made sensitive by bite marks and light bruises. Deep sighs whispered against the skin of his naked shoulders. The other person was still half-asleep.
Atobe rolled onto his back and stretched out slowly, not quite of his own will. His body was relaxing under those hands, the safe and protected feeling that the caresses brought.
Atobe knew at the back of his mind that it should have been unpleasant. He could hardly stand other people's touch. He had to seduce, he had to want to be seduced, for his skin to recognize that touch was a pleasant thing.
He was used to pain. He was used to pain being enjoyable. Especially with this one. But now - tonight - there was this new thing. Of all the hands that had ever touched him, even his own parents' hands, this was the gentlest.
And the person who touched him wasn't even fully awake.
One hand wandered to his groin, and Atobe recoiled. The lightness was most foreign there. Atobe reached down to halt the hand. He craned his neck toward the other person, and the regular sighs vanished as the other person drew closer to him.
Their lips met.
It wasn't often they kissed. Atobe easily deduced that this instance occurred simply because the other wasn't conscious enough to stop it.
It was the longest kiss they had ever shared, and Atobe savored the taste. Then they broke off, gradually and reluctantly. The other slowly opened his eyes, regarded the person in his arms from out of a memory.
As he watched, Sanada's face hardened from dreaming into disbelief. He released Atobe without ceremony, then sat up, looking somewhat disconcerted.
The stirring of discontent had no art or class in it. Atobe did not choose to dwell, and stopped waiting for the other to speak. "Tell me where you were tonight," he demanded softly.
Without meeting his eyes, "Same place."
"Ah," Atobe remarked. "And how is he?"
This earned him a look both hostile and curious.
"You've never asked me that."
"What's wrong with asking now?"
Sometimes, especially when he scowled, Atobe imagined he could see the other's face, over this one's -- smiling like a shadow, a complete opposite. Perfect and present in the air he breathed.
"Stay out of my business. I'll stay out of yours. That was our agreement."
Atobe smiled and sat up. He turned the other's face to him, ran the tip of a fingernail down the other's cheek. He felt the other wince, slightly.
"I don't remember agreeing to anything like that..."
He brought his face up close to Sanada's as if to kiss him. Impulsively the other jerked back, but Atobe's lips missed his, landed and lingered on his chin, neck.
"...Keigo. Stop."
Sanada tried to pull away. Atobe shifted position so their bodies were pressed close together, and with the weight of his body he forced the other to lie back in bed. Meanwhile, he slid one hand up the side of Sanada's thigh, moved urgently between his legs.
"Mm," he murmured, smirking as he watched naked lust take over the other's face, felt stiffness coming to the other's cock again. "No, I don't think I will."
The other didn't let him stay on top for long, as could be expected. Atobe lay back against the soft sheets, squirming in the rain of kisses, bites that fell on him with no great caution.
Atobe liked this. He liked the unrelenting roughness he had come to associate with the other. He liked how it felt as if they were forcing themselves on each other, as if each instance was a hard game. It lasted long this way, with both of them ending up exhausted, like they did earlier that night. Like it seemed they were doing again.
Sanada was sucking him off fast and hard, quiet like Atobe would never do it, moving at a speed that made Atobe's pulse race.
But then the pace slowed. Sanada's hands were moving lightly on whatever they could reach of Atobe's body again. Atobe didn't realize what was going on quickly enough, and before he knew it he was bucking his hips to that sensuous rhythm, his heartbeat somehow keeping at a steady high.
Under those hands, those lips, he was suddenly breakable. Made of glass. This was no hard game; Atobe had no words for this.
All he knew was that this had never happened before.
"Stop," Atobe moaned. "Stop!" He sat up and grabbed Sanada's hair, jerked his head upwards. Another second and he would have come.
Sanada seemed to understand. He crawled up against Atobe, leaving a trail of kisses. Atobe's hands traveled up Sanada's arms and down his back as the other nuzzled his neck and pressed up against him not with his entire weight, swayed with him rather than writhed against him.
The motions were nothing new to Atobe, but the closeness was. The other's closeness was. It affected him the way it never used to. What was it like to make love?
"Just lie back," Sanada whispered into his ear. "Lie back. You're so beautiful."
He shut his eyes tight against this, against the whimper that the warmth and the deep voice caused to escape his lips. Abruptly, he pulled Sanada closer to him, spread his legs wide apart. He reached down and positioned the tip of Sanada's cock against his ass, and before Sanada could pull back, he had pushed the head in himself.
Atobe gasped at the sudden sensation, at the hint of pain. Would not let Sanada pull out.
"What are you doing?" A touch of alarm.
"I know you can't touch him," Atobe said, his voice ragged, dangerous, "and I don't give a shit."
Atobe held the other's gaze, while it burned bright with desire, incredulity and a growing disdain.
"But don't ever use my body in place of his. This is mine."
Even as he spoke his flesh screamed for the fading gentleness.
Stillness. Hesitation. Atobe was infuriated. His fingers dug into the other's arms.
"Fuck me, damn you!" he said with all his poison. Then there was only hatred on that face.
Sanada thrust in sharply, and Atobe's entire body rebelled.
A deeper, stronger push, and Atobe felt something tear inside. He must have cried out over and over, twisted and bucked while the other forced his way into him, uncontrolled and merciless -- just as he wanted. Pain shot through him in waves.
Eyes tightly shut, Atobe laughed. This was the other that he knew. The one he owned.
Later that evening, Atobe lay motionless on the ruined mattress, alone. The tenderness completely dispersed. There could be no touching now. No speaking. Not even pretending Atobe was anywhere except here, suffering this.
But Atobe was satisfied.
The bond that this one and the other shared was flawless. But it was not enough to dissuade Atobe. He had what he wanted, and it didn't have to be right; it didn't have to be beautiful. It only had to be his.
Perfection didn't mean a thing in the face of this.
bbl to reply to posts, answer comments, and join a certain fanlisting! sorry for the late!
just logging down: my posts have been organized into memories. fics segregated.
i just had to see how things would go if, in the course of writing my first NC-17, i gave sanada a dual personality in bed ;P slightly angsty, as sanaato should NEVER be. no setting, but it's certainly after graduation from middle school ^^;
i hope it doesn't completely suck... because it might be a while before i do anything like this again.
might still be edited. or might not. let's see in an hour or so. (*hearts* everyone) (gets aspirin)
The Other
by MorphailEffect
Atobe was summoned back to awareness by a caress so light he thought he was still dreaming.
He was blanketed, lying on a mattress, close to another warm body. It took him a few seconds to remember the name -- and when he did, it took him a while to relate it to what was going on.
No parts of their bodies touched -- only the other's large, callused hands moved lightly, freely over Atobe's bare skin. Now soft, now rough fingertips traced shapes on places made sensitive by bite marks and light bruises. Deep sighs whispered against the skin of his naked shoulders. The other person was still half-asleep.
Atobe rolled onto his back and stretched out slowly, not quite of his own will. His body was relaxing under those hands, the safe and protected feeling that the caresses brought.
Atobe knew at the back of his mind that it should have been unpleasant. He could hardly stand other people's touch. He had to seduce, he had to want to be seduced, for his skin to recognize that touch was a pleasant thing.
He was used to pain. He was used to pain being enjoyable. Especially with this one. But now - tonight - there was this new thing. Of all the hands that had ever touched him, even his own parents' hands, this was the gentlest.
And the person who touched him wasn't even fully awake.
One hand wandered to his groin, and Atobe recoiled. The lightness was most foreign there. Atobe reached down to halt the hand. He craned his neck toward the other person, and the regular sighs vanished as the other person drew closer to him.
Their lips met.
It wasn't often they kissed. Atobe easily deduced that this instance occurred simply because the other wasn't conscious enough to stop it.
It was the longest kiss they had ever shared, and Atobe savored the taste. Then they broke off, gradually and reluctantly. The other slowly opened his eyes, regarded the person in his arms from out of a memory.
As he watched, Sanada's face hardened from dreaming into disbelief. He released Atobe without ceremony, then sat up, looking somewhat disconcerted.
The stirring of discontent had no art or class in it. Atobe did not choose to dwell, and stopped waiting for the other to speak. "Tell me where you were tonight," he demanded softly.
Without meeting his eyes, "Same place."
"Ah," Atobe remarked. "And how is he?"
This earned him a look both hostile and curious.
"You've never asked me that."
"What's wrong with asking now?"
Sometimes, especially when he scowled, Atobe imagined he could see the other's face, over this one's -- smiling like a shadow, a complete opposite. Perfect and present in the air he breathed.
"Stay out of my business. I'll stay out of yours. That was our agreement."
Atobe smiled and sat up. He turned the other's face to him, ran the tip of a fingernail down the other's cheek. He felt the other wince, slightly.
"I don't remember agreeing to anything like that..."
He brought his face up close to Sanada's as if to kiss him. Impulsively the other jerked back, but Atobe's lips missed his, landed and lingered on his chin, neck.
"...Keigo. Stop."
Sanada tried to pull away. Atobe shifted position so their bodies were pressed close together, and with the weight of his body he forced the other to lie back in bed. Meanwhile, he slid one hand up the side of Sanada's thigh, moved urgently between his legs.
"Mm," he murmured, smirking as he watched naked lust take over the other's face, felt stiffness coming to the other's cock again. "No, I don't think I will."
The other didn't let him stay on top for long, as could be expected. Atobe lay back against the soft sheets, squirming in the rain of kisses, bites that fell on him with no great caution.
Atobe liked this. He liked the unrelenting roughness he had come to associate with the other. He liked how it felt as if they were forcing themselves on each other, as if each instance was a hard game. It lasted long this way, with both of them ending up exhausted, like they did earlier that night. Like it seemed they were doing again.
Sanada was sucking him off fast and hard, quiet like Atobe would never do it, moving at a speed that made Atobe's pulse race.
But then the pace slowed. Sanada's hands were moving lightly on whatever they could reach of Atobe's body again. Atobe didn't realize what was going on quickly enough, and before he knew it he was bucking his hips to that sensuous rhythm, his heartbeat somehow keeping at a steady high.
Under those hands, those lips, he was suddenly breakable. Made of glass. This was no hard game; Atobe had no words for this.
All he knew was that this had never happened before.
"Stop," Atobe moaned. "Stop!" He sat up and grabbed Sanada's hair, jerked his head upwards. Another second and he would have come.
Sanada seemed to understand. He crawled up against Atobe, leaving a trail of kisses. Atobe's hands traveled up Sanada's arms and down his back as the other nuzzled his neck and pressed up against him not with his entire weight, swayed with him rather than writhed against him.
The motions were nothing new to Atobe, but the closeness was. The other's closeness was. It affected him the way it never used to. What was it like to make love?
"Just lie back," Sanada whispered into his ear. "Lie back. You're so beautiful."
He shut his eyes tight against this, against the whimper that the warmth and the deep voice caused to escape his lips. Abruptly, he pulled Sanada closer to him, spread his legs wide apart. He reached down and positioned the tip of Sanada's cock against his ass, and before Sanada could pull back, he had pushed the head in himself.
Atobe gasped at the sudden sensation, at the hint of pain. Would not let Sanada pull out.
"What are you doing?" A touch of alarm.
"I know you can't touch him," Atobe said, his voice ragged, dangerous, "and I don't give a shit."
Atobe held the other's gaze, while it burned bright with desire, incredulity and a growing disdain.
"But don't ever use my body in place of his. This is mine."
Even as he spoke his flesh screamed for the fading gentleness.
Stillness. Hesitation. Atobe was infuriated. His fingers dug into the other's arms.
"Fuck me, damn you!" he said with all his poison. Then there was only hatred on that face.
Sanada thrust in sharply, and Atobe's entire body rebelled.
A deeper, stronger push, and Atobe felt something tear inside. He must have cried out over and over, twisted and bucked while the other forced his way into him, uncontrolled and merciless -- just as he wanted. Pain shot through him in waves.
Eyes tightly shut, Atobe laughed. This was the other that he knew. The one he owned.
Later that evening, Atobe lay motionless on the ruined mattress, alone. The tenderness completely dispersed. There could be no touching now. No speaking. Not even pretending Atobe was anywhere except here, suffering this.
But Atobe was satisfied.
The bond that this one and the other shared was flawless. But it was not enough to dissuade Atobe. He had what he wanted, and it didn't have to be right; it didn't have to be beautiful. It only had to be his.
Perfection didn't mean a thing in the face of this.
bbl to reply to posts, answer comments, and join a certain fanlisting! sorry for the late!
just logging down: my posts have been organized into memories. fics segregated.