Revelation(1/?)
Title: Revelation
Description: Beneath the khol of eyelids and leather of outfits, brief and fleeting glances that plagued the fans' unknowing, pure minds but actually amounted to little less than nothing, and touches void of passion lays the hatred that had grown throught the years- and now the spite has reached the limits of restraint, emotion smoldering dangerously amongst these band mates.
Warning(s): Violence, Smut, Language, Drama, Rape
Pairings: (Implied)Uruha/Reita
Chapters: 1/?
Genre: Angst, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Comment:So, I'm trying to conquer my writer's block with something new! Any comments of critique or things of the like would be much appreciated. Thank you!
Uruha had little tolerance when it came to his participating in fan service with Reita. He couldn't stand the callouses that littered the fingers of the man once known as his best friend; neither could he stand the scent of pine that always hung around Reita. Similarly, Uruha despised the way in which Reita would steal quick glances at him, almost as if longing for something forbidden- and Uruha particularly resented the thought of being thought of as such a thing. Hadn't Reita stolen enough, something worth so much more than mere glimpses?
Uruha had felt so numb when Reita had touched him for the first time. It had happened just after Uruha and Aoi had shared their first kiss on stage. Reita had been a mess of tears and his clothes reeked of alcohol. The first groping of his crotch had made Uruha protest immediately, and it had, in turn, immediately earned him a low rumbling of Reita's chest and stinging pain of a palm smacking the delicate skin of his cheek. Reita had used enough force to make Uruha cry, his bottom lip trembling in fear, eyes wide with his shock as he gently cupped his burning, pained flesh, cradling his cheek carefully. It was the first of many strikes that night, and Uruha swore that every time after that event, when Reita would come to him for that forbidden fruit, he wished that it had been anyone other than himself to endure his pain; but then the images of Kai, or even possibly Ruki or Aoi, or anyone else for that matter, having to go through his torture made him hurt far worse than the sensation of Reita abusing his body.
Uruha had once stopped crying long enough to ask Reita why he was doing what he was doing to him. He had been told something of love, and Uruha gave a dry laugh.
He never spoke a word of what it was that had been going on, not once. When their costume designer had asked why Uruha had so specifically asked for a choker, Uruha had simply given a polite smile and said that he wanted one. The truth, though, was that Reita had demanded he wear one to show his submission; and when they had been told by a staff member that they looked like husband and wife, Uruha felt bile rise up in his throat.
He had never thought that he would despise his best friend of all people, but the truth of the matter was that every breath Uruha exhaled was mixed with animosity for the bassist that took him against his will.
At the moment, Uruha was helping Aoi with the tedious task of tuning the older's guitar. Just as he finished making sure that all was well with the sound, there was a deep hum from Aoi, and when Uruha lifted his gaze off of the guitar nestled in his lap, his wrist was gently encomoassed by Aoi's fingers.
"W-What are you doing?" Uruha asked dryly, obviously unsettled by the sudden and unannounced contact of Aoi's fingers against his bruised flesh. He attempted to draw his hand away but the grip only tightened as another hand tugged at the hem of his purple sweater and yanked it up.
"What happened?" Aoi inquired sternly, and Uruha was sure he could hear anger and worry in Aoi's voice. The raven haired man's eyes were drawn to the purple and green marks, and he noticed how recent and severe they seemed. He wondered what Uruha could have done to acquire such a uniquely shaped bruise- and it almost looked like fingers, actually, fingertips that had dug into the delicate and otherwise pale skin mercilessly.
Uruha gave an impatient snort and pulled his hand away, fingers rubbing at the bruise a bit as he felt another pair of eyes on his body. He quickly pulled down his sweater sleeve and laughed nervously. "I just drank a bit too much..." Uruha didn't wait for a response, instead, he stood from the folding chair in a corner of the practice room and apologized to Aoi, saying that he should come over to his house sometime soon, to which Aoi readily agreed.
Uruha hurried to the bathroom, and having been followed by Reita, the door was shut and locked behind the two, the silence that followed making Uruha feel dread overcome him.
"What did he want?" Reita asked, taking a step closer to Uruha.
The guitarist immediately took a step back, coming to the wall and holding out a hand as if it would ward off the man before him. "N-No, please, Akira, I-"
"He wants to fuck you, doesn't he? Doesn't he, Kouyou?! Well, let's see if he still wants you after I'm done with you," Reita hissed, grabbing Uruha by the hair at the nape of his neck and focing him to lean over the sink counter, holding him in place with one hand while he lowered both of their pants and boxers and spit on his cock before shoving his length into Uruha's unprepared body.
"Stop it! P-Please!" Uruha let out a sob, the pain excrutiating, air chased from his lungs as he panted, body trembling as something so large driven in repeatedly. His pain only ended when he felt the warmth of semen and blood.
That was the way Reita always left him- in tears, and with blood and cum trickling down his thighs as one of the only testaments to his pain.