Mesmerising - Reita x Uruha
Title: Mesmerising
Chapters: 1/1
Author: nowaki_nevaeh
Genre: Romance, drama
Warnings: Sex, alcohol, brief homophobic language.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Reita x Uruha
Disclaimer: I'm just a girl with a wild imagination.
Synopsis: It was mesmerising. The way his slinky body moved. The glow of the spotlight caught his golden hair, making it glimmer with every tantalising movement.
Comments: Hai gaiz. It's been a while but I finally got round to writing this :) it's basically a little prequel for my chaptered fic 'Searching For Uruha' but it can be read on it's own. Hope you like it...and I hope my writing skills haven't got too rusty!
It was mesmerising.
The way his slinky body moved.
The glow of the spotlight caught his golden hair, making it glimmer with every tantalising movement.
It was like a form of art, how he balanced and cavorted on the metal pole.
It was mesmerising.
How his body cascaded with the beauty and fragility of a swan.
A blush scatters across the blond beauty’s cheeks as he notices me watching him and a shy smile travels across his face.
He comes to the end of his dance, with a final, sensual flick of his hips.
I applaud loudly along with the other customers, but it’s me who he gives a lingering glance from under his curled lashes as he bows his pretty head.
The spotlight shuts off, blanketing the bar in darkness. By the time the dim red wall-lights are turned back on, the nameless angel has vanished.
I make my way to the other side of the bar, approaching two middle-aged gents with suits and brief-cases.
“Ah, Reita.” My father, the leaner of the two, addresses me. He gestures to the latter. “This is Mr. Hayashi; he’s the owner of this bar. We’ve just made a large amount of money from this man.”
The two share a smug grin, and Yoshiki holds out a hand.
I take it, his handshake is firm and tight. Overpowering.
“Nice to meet you.”
Yoshiki eyes me up, there’s something unnerving in his green eyes.
“I saw you watching one of my boys earlier. Lovely, aren’t they?”
My face turns red and my father jumps to my defence. “I can assure you, Mr. Hayashi, my son is no faggot. Isn’t that right, Reita?” He says coldly.
I nod quickly. “R-right, sir.”
The landlord gives me a bemused look, and my father thrusts some notes in my hands.
“Reita, son, go get yourself a drink. Leave me and Mr. Hayashi to it.”
I roll my eyes as I turn away. I was never the son that he craved; I was the aspiring musician with the dyed hair and the pierced ears. Most of my father’s ‘business-partners’ would take one look at me and label me a queer. Yoshiki Hayashi was a filthy rich pimp and dealer, and the last thing my father wanted was for Hayashi to get the wrong idea about me.
Besides, I’m no fucking pansy.
I order a beer at the bar and knock it down my neck. I order another. I’m pissed off at my dad; I should be out with my friends right now, meeting girls and getting high. Instead, I’m sat in this shit bar while he sells a couple pounds of cocaine. I finger the cross on the chain around my neck.
“V and T please, Yuu. Don’t hold back on the V.” A smooth voice says next to me as the barstool next to me becomes occupied.
My eyes widen, it’s the blond pole-dancer.
“I don’t think I need to remind you of the price.” The barman grins as he slides the glass towards the latter.
The blond cracks a smile and reaches down the front of his tiny shorts. To my utter surprise, he pulls out a few notes.
Well, of course Rei, don’t be stupid. Where else would a stripper keep his cash?
“I’ve got this one.” I speak up, and hand the barman more than the amount. “Keep the change.”
“Such a gent.” The blond gives me a sideways glance. “Do you know how many drinks geezers buy me a night?”
I chuckle. “I’m not like any of them.”
He takes a drink before asking. “What makes you so special?”
“Maybe you should answer that for yourself.”
“Huh.” He lets out a low laugh. “It’s only sad, fat business men who waste their time in here. You know, the ones whose wives can’t stand to fuck them anymore.” There’s a sharp venom in his voice and downs the remainder of his drink. The glass slams back down on the bar with such force I was surprised it didn’t break. “Like a night with one of us is going to fix their problems.”
He sighs, and then looks at me. He smiles. “It’s nice to see a new face. What did you say your name was?”
I take his hand, and press my lips against his soft white skin. “Reita. Reita Suzuki, at your service.”
He raises his perfectly shaped brows at me. “Charmed.” He smirks, humouring my clichéd introduction. “I’m Uruha. Just Uruha.”
‘Just Uruha’ fit perfectly. He had an air of mystery about him - I wanted to know more about the strange stripper with the ambiguous smile. His personality seemed to break through his skin and spread throughout the whole of the bar and beyond.
“So how’d a pretty thing like you end up in a shithole like this?” I ask after a few more drinks. I lean closer to him, and he pushes me away.
“Because I’m a pretty thing, and pretty things need money.”
I wave a handful of my dad’s cash at him. “Welcome to the bank of Naoto Suzuki.”
“Rich brat.” He says, but grins and jumps off his stool, dragging me with him by my loose tie.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, laughing.
“Every fucking club in the city!”
We do just that. With Uruha as my guide, we visit every night club we can find. A shot of vodka here, a tequila there, and more WKD’s than you could shake a stick at.
I stop caring about everything, my father, my life, or the money that’s literally going down the gutter.
We laugh, and it’s more than I’ve ever laughed in a lifetime.
It’s nearly 4am when Uruha hails a cab, saucily gesturing to the unimpressed cabbie.
“Come back to mine?” I whisper in his ear.
***Uruha’s lips attach themselves to mine instantly, his slick tongue glides past my lips, and his hips grind against my own.
I push him against my bedroom wall, I break the kiss, but my lips travel downwards. He groans and whimpers as I nibble his supple skin of his neck, leaving faint red kiss-marks as I do so.
“Oh, Reita.” He whispers huskily, tangling his fingers in my hair. He pushes my head downwards, telling me without words to abuse and mistreat him some more.
My hands slide all over his body, across the slim stomach, the fragile ribcage, my fingernails leave faint red lines.
Suddenly, he stops groaning, and his hips cease gyrating against me.
I look up at him; he’s staring at the corner of my room.
“You play guitar?” He asks, pushing me away.
“Er, yeah.” I mumble, perplexed as he seems to forget his previous state of euphoria. I watch as he picks it up, and slings the shoulder strap around himself.
“This looks fucking expensive.” He whistles and starts to play a little.
My eyes widen as he plays a few riffs; and it’s as if he’s transformed into Slash or something.
Well I’ll be damned - the hooker’s got talent.
I join him at the other side of my room, grabbing my bass from my wardrobe.
“Been playing since I was thirteen.” I tell him. “This is my baby though.”
“Play with me?” He asks.
***And I comply; it’s gone five in the morning, but Uruha and I play for ages. His slender fingers travel up the neck of my guitar at such a pace, it’s almost impossible to keep up with him.
He stops playing as abruptly as he started. He places the guitar back on its stand, so carefully, as if it was made of glass.
Uruha moves the bass out of my lap, replacing it with his ass.
“What are you doing?” I ask him as his legs wrap around my waist.
“Never let it be said,” He says playfully as he starts to unbutton my shirt. I can’t help but groan as his hips grind against mine, “That Uruha doesn’t do his job right.”
My shirt slides off, revealing the cross around my neck. Uruha touches it with his index finger. His other hand manoeuvres between my legs, skilfully unzipping and caressing.
“You religious or something?”
“Or something.” I say vaguely. “It was my mother’s, she was Catholic.” I move the pendant round, so that it hangs down my back.
My past and present is irrelevant.
“Then this is so terribly sinful.” He whispers, his hot breath on my earlobe making me shudder.
Only Uruha is important.
“You’re the sweetest sin.” I purr as he lifts his hips, I push his tiny shorts down, exposing him. I bite my lip with anticipation and reach for the bedside table. All whilst tending to his hardened member.
He moans, throwing back his head, showing off all his slender neck, his slick chest.
“You’re such a dirty whore.” I smirk as he obediently positions himself.
“You love it.” He purrs, voice laden with lust. A sharp gasp escapes his glossed lips as he pushes downwards.
I groan, eyes screwing shut. “Move.” I say huskily.
He complies; rocking his body, setting the erratic rhythm.
Tainting me with his reckless dance.
Making my body shake and move faster.
I find myself running my hands through his dirty-blond locks, pulling hard on the strands, demanding more. More of him. More of his desire.
My own body jerks upwards, clumsily, in order to meet Uruha’s movements. His name rolls off my tongue, echoing around the room.
A cry escapes him as I hit deeper, repeatedly, again and again. His whines sending surges of pure pleasure throughout my veins.
I force my eyes open as I feel my climax; his eyes are wide open, watching me. The sultry smirk has left his face, replaced by one that is almost serene.
I let myself go inside of him, earning a throaty groan as Uruha himself releases.
We don’t speak; the sound of our heaving breaths is the only noise. He stiffly pulls himself off me.
“Uruha that was...”
“Amazing? Fantastic?” He answers for me, the cocky grin re-appearing.
“Something else.” I let out a breath. I lean against the back of the chair, and zip up my jeans. He dresses himself quickly.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to get back.” Then he looks down, sheepishly. “You owe me.”
“I’m a pretty little thing.” He says slowly, “And pretty little things need money.”
“Wha-?” I start, but choke, so I nod, and pull out the last handful of notes from my wallet. Neither of us says anything as he slides the cash down the front of his shorts and he turns to leave.
I don’t know how to feel. He’s the hooker yet I was the one drawn in and used.
All for a bit of dirty cash.
And I really liked him too.
“Reita.” Uruha’s gentle voice breaks the silence. I glance upwards. “If it makes any difference, you’re the first guy I didn’t have to fake it for.”
I shrug.
Thought he might’ve felt the same.
“That’s why I didn’t close my eyes. Not once, I wanted to see the first person who made me feel something." His voice drops. "Thank you."
I stand up, grabbing him, pulling him into me. Our lips crash together in a harsh kiss.
“I’d like to do this again.” Uruha says as the kiss breaks.
“I like you.” I say, and mentally kick myself for sounding like a stupid kid.
He grins. “So come see me sometime.”
He pecks me on the lips tenderly, but I feel emptiness.
Uruha was truly mesmerising.
But, I had a feeling he’d never be mine.
A/N: I felt so bad writing this xD I really liked this pairing, but obviously, they aren't meant to be. I'm so cruel.
Idk what's up with this sudden sickly-sweet nonsense. I used to be so brutal. Killing off my muses left right and centre (..such monstrosity never made it to LJ) and now it's all...almost romantic xD Pfft. I do have something a little less lame up my sleeve.
Chapters: 1/1
Author: nowaki_nevaeh
Genre: Romance, drama
Warnings: Sex, alcohol, brief homophobic language.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Reita x Uruha
Disclaimer: I'm just a girl with a wild imagination.
Synopsis: It was mesmerising. The way his slinky body moved. The glow of the spotlight caught his golden hair, making it glimmer with every tantalising movement.
Comments: Hai gaiz. It's been a while but I finally got round to writing this :) it's basically a little prequel for my chaptered fic 'Searching For Uruha' but it can be read on it's own. Hope you like it...and I hope my writing skills haven't got too rusty!
It was mesmerising.
The way his slinky body moved.
The glow of the spotlight caught his golden hair, making it glimmer with every tantalising movement.
It was like a form of art, how he balanced and cavorted on the metal pole.
It was mesmerising.
How his body cascaded with the beauty and fragility of a swan.
A blush scatters across the blond beauty’s cheeks as he notices me watching him and a shy smile travels across his face.
He comes to the end of his dance, with a final, sensual flick of his hips.
I applaud loudly along with the other customers, but it’s me who he gives a lingering glance from under his curled lashes as he bows his pretty head.
The spotlight shuts off, blanketing the bar in darkness. By the time the dim red wall-lights are turned back on, the nameless angel has vanished.
I make my way to the other side of the bar, approaching two middle-aged gents with suits and brief-cases.
“Ah, Reita.” My father, the leaner of the two, addresses me. He gestures to the latter. “This is Mr. Hayashi; he’s the owner of this bar. We’ve just made a large amount of money from this man.”
The two share a smug grin, and Yoshiki holds out a hand.
I take it, his handshake is firm and tight. Overpowering.
“Nice to meet you.”
Yoshiki eyes me up, there’s something unnerving in his green eyes.
“I saw you watching one of my boys earlier. Lovely, aren’t they?”
My face turns red and my father jumps to my defence. “I can assure you, Mr. Hayashi, my son is no faggot. Isn’t that right, Reita?” He says coldly.
I nod quickly. “R-right, sir.”
The landlord gives me a bemused look, and my father thrusts some notes in my hands.
“Reita, son, go get yourself a drink. Leave me and Mr. Hayashi to it.”
I roll my eyes as I turn away. I was never the son that he craved; I was the aspiring musician with the dyed hair and the pierced ears. Most of my father’s ‘business-partners’ would take one look at me and label me a queer. Yoshiki Hayashi was a filthy rich pimp and dealer, and the last thing my father wanted was for Hayashi to get the wrong idea about me.
Besides, I’m no fucking pansy.
I order a beer at the bar and knock it down my neck. I order another. I’m pissed off at my dad; I should be out with my friends right now, meeting girls and getting high. Instead, I’m sat in this shit bar while he sells a couple pounds of cocaine. I finger the cross on the chain around my neck.
“V and T please, Yuu. Don’t hold back on the V.” A smooth voice says next to me as the barstool next to me becomes occupied.
My eyes widen, it’s the blond pole-dancer.
“I don’t think I need to remind you of the price.” The barman grins as he slides the glass towards the latter.
The blond cracks a smile and reaches down the front of his tiny shorts. To my utter surprise, he pulls out a few notes.
Well, of course Rei, don’t be stupid. Where else would a stripper keep his cash?
“I’ve got this one.” I speak up, and hand the barman more than the amount. “Keep the change.”
“Such a gent.” The blond gives me a sideways glance. “Do you know how many drinks geezers buy me a night?”
I chuckle. “I’m not like any of them.”
He takes a drink before asking. “What makes you so special?”
“Maybe you should answer that for yourself.”
“Huh.” He lets out a low laugh. “It’s only sad, fat business men who waste their time in here. You know, the ones whose wives can’t stand to fuck them anymore.” There’s a sharp venom in his voice and downs the remainder of his drink. The glass slams back down on the bar with such force I was surprised it didn’t break. “Like a night with one of us is going to fix their problems.”
He sighs, and then looks at me. He smiles. “It’s nice to see a new face. What did you say your name was?”
I take his hand, and press my lips against his soft white skin. “Reita. Reita Suzuki, at your service.”
He raises his perfectly shaped brows at me. “Charmed.” He smirks, humouring my clichéd introduction. “I’m Uruha. Just Uruha.”
‘Just Uruha’ fit perfectly. He had an air of mystery about him - I wanted to know more about the strange stripper with the ambiguous smile. His personality seemed to break through his skin and spread throughout the whole of the bar and beyond.
“So how’d a pretty thing like you end up in a shithole like this?” I ask after a few more drinks. I lean closer to him, and he pushes me away.
“Because I’m a pretty thing, and pretty things need money.”
I wave a handful of my dad’s cash at him. “Welcome to the bank of Naoto Suzuki.”
“Rich brat.” He says, but grins and jumps off his stool, dragging me with him by my loose tie.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, laughing.
“Every fucking club in the city!”
We do just that. With Uruha as my guide, we visit every night club we can find. A shot of vodka here, a tequila there, and more WKD’s than you could shake a stick at.
I stop caring about everything, my father, my life, or the money that’s literally going down the gutter.
We laugh, and it’s more than I’ve ever laughed in a lifetime.
It’s nearly 4am when Uruha hails a cab, saucily gesturing to the unimpressed cabbie.
“Come back to mine?” I whisper in his ear.
***Uruha’s lips attach themselves to mine instantly, his slick tongue glides past my lips, and his hips grind against my own.
I push him against my bedroom wall, I break the kiss, but my lips travel downwards. He groans and whimpers as I nibble his supple skin of his neck, leaving faint red kiss-marks as I do so.
“Oh, Reita.” He whispers huskily, tangling his fingers in my hair. He pushes my head downwards, telling me without words to abuse and mistreat him some more.
My hands slide all over his body, across the slim stomach, the fragile ribcage, my fingernails leave faint red lines.
Suddenly, he stops groaning, and his hips cease gyrating against me.
I look up at him; he’s staring at the corner of my room.
“You play guitar?” He asks, pushing me away.
“Er, yeah.” I mumble, perplexed as he seems to forget his previous state of euphoria. I watch as he picks it up, and slings the shoulder strap around himself.
“This looks fucking expensive.” He whistles and starts to play a little.
My eyes widen as he plays a few riffs; and it’s as if he’s transformed into Slash or something.
Well I’ll be damned - the hooker’s got talent.
I join him at the other side of my room, grabbing my bass from my wardrobe.
“Been playing since I was thirteen.” I tell him. “This is my baby though.”
“Play with me?” He asks.
***And I comply; it’s gone five in the morning, but Uruha and I play for ages. His slender fingers travel up the neck of my guitar at such a pace, it’s almost impossible to keep up with him.
He stops playing as abruptly as he started. He places the guitar back on its stand, so carefully, as if it was made of glass.
Uruha moves the bass out of my lap, replacing it with his ass.
“What are you doing?” I ask him as his legs wrap around my waist.
“Never let it be said,” He says playfully as he starts to unbutton my shirt. I can’t help but groan as his hips grind against mine, “That Uruha doesn’t do his job right.”
My shirt slides off, revealing the cross around my neck. Uruha touches it with his index finger. His other hand manoeuvres between my legs, skilfully unzipping and caressing.
“You religious or something?”
“Or something.” I say vaguely. “It was my mother’s, she was Catholic.” I move the pendant round, so that it hangs down my back.
My past and present is irrelevant.
“Then this is so terribly sinful.” He whispers, his hot breath on my earlobe making me shudder.
Only Uruha is important.
“You’re the sweetest sin.” I purr as he lifts his hips, I push his tiny shorts down, exposing him. I bite my lip with anticipation and reach for the bedside table. All whilst tending to his hardened member.
He moans, throwing back his head, showing off all his slender neck, his slick chest.
“You’re such a dirty whore.” I smirk as he obediently positions himself.
“You love it.” He purrs, voice laden with lust. A sharp gasp escapes his glossed lips as he pushes downwards.
I groan, eyes screwing shut. “Move.” I say huskily.
He complies; rocking his body, setting the erratic rhythm.
Tainting me with his reckless dance.
Making my body shake and move faster.
I find myself running my hands through his dirty-blond locks, pulling hard on the strands, demanding more. More of him. More of his desire.
My own body jerks upwards, clumsily, in order to meet Uruha’s movements. His name rolls off my tongue, echoing around the room.
A cry escapes him as I hit deeper, repeatedly, again and again. His whines sending surges of pure pleasure throughout my veins.
I force my eyes open as I feel my climax; his eyes are wide open, watching me. The sultry smirk has left his face, replaced by one that is almost serene.
I let myself go inside of him, earning a throaty groan as Uruha himself releases.
We don’t speak; the sound of our heaving breaths is the only noise. He stiffly pulls himself off me.
“Uruha that was...”
“Amazing? Fantastic?” He answers for me, the cocky grin re-appearing.
“Something else.” I let out a breath. I lean against the back of the chair, and zip up my jeans. He dresses himself quickly.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to get back.” Then he looks down, sheepishly. “You owe me.”
“I’m a pretty little thing.” He says slowly, “And pretty little things need money.”
“Wha-?” I start, but choke, so I nod, and pull out the last handful of notes from my wallet. Neither of us says anything as he slides the cash down the front of his shorts and he turns to leave.
I don’t know how to feel. He’s the hooker yet I was the one drawn in and used.
All for a bit of dirty cash.
And I really liked him too.
“Reita.” Uruha’s gentle voice breaks the silence. I glance upwards. “If it makes any difference, you’re the first guy I didn’t have to fake it for.”
I shrug.
Thought he might’ve felt the same.
“That’s why I didn’t close my eyes. Not once, I wanted to see the first person who made me feel something." His voice drops. "Thank you."
I stand up, grabbing him, pulling him into me. Our lips crash together in a harsh kiss.
“I’d like to do this again.” Uruha says as the kiss breaks.
“I like you.” I say, and mentally kick myself for sounding like a stupid kid.
He grins. “So come see me sometime.”
He pecks me on the lips tenderly, but I feel emptiness.
Uruha was truly mesmerising.
But, I had a feeling he’d never be mine.
A/N: I felt so bad writing this xD I really liked this pairing, but obviously, they aren't meant to be. I'm so cruel.
Idk what's up with this sudden sickly-sweet nonsense. I used to be so brutal. Killing off my muses left right and centre (..such monstrosity never made it to LJ) and now it's all...almost romantic xD Pfft. I do have something a little less lame up my sleeve.