Mission Accomplished [Legal Drug, Rikuo/Kazahaya, PG]
Title: Mission Accomplished
Author: K M B
Rating: PG
Warnings: crossdressing, but that really isn’t a warning when it comes to Legal Drug, is it?
Word count: 704
Summary: You can’t just go around stealing people’s first kisses like that and not expect retaliation, now can you?
A/N: prompt - Legal Drug, Rikuo/Kazahaya: Rikuo saves Kazahaya's life by sacrificing something irreplaceable - Now it's personal - So very, very sorry for lateness! I blame tornadoes, snow, and ice (oh my!) for the massive delay.
He was coming toward Rikuo with a walk that wasn’t his. Nonexistent hips somehow gained a womanly curve, the lilt to his body movements completely foreign. Rikuo had seen it before, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling.
A whistle. “Hey, baby,” and Kazahaya’s eyes lost focus on Rikuo, swinging to take in the new guy. His-- her-- lips curved in a way that more than hinted at sex; it suggested it in blatant red and black tones, like nightfall and blood and mouths. “Kazahaya,” Rikuo warned, but it was too late. He’d drifted away, a warning-- KEEP AWAY-- in that red dress, so thoughtfully fashioned by Saiga. The kind that left legs and arms and back bare, along with anything for the imagination.
The newcomer-- some guy on the dark street-- was reaching out as Kazahaya came close; welcoming what was so obviously offered. Words were exchanged, but Rikuo couldn’t be bothered taking them in. For the moment, he was too preoccupied with seeing red.
It was when the unnamed assailant-- that’s what Rikuo felt compelled to call the young-faced businessman in the rumpled suit-- cupped the back of Kazahaya’s head, tilting his face upward that made something inside Rikuo snap. Fuck if they were on a job. Fuck if this guy was the mark. He wasn’t going to stand for this shit a moment longer.
Yanking the guy back by the collar of his jacket like he would a disobedient kitten, Rikuo wasted no time in voicing his concerns with a fist to the punk’s face. He went down like he was supposed to, limbs wheeling and flopping, obviously unused to aggression of any kind.
“Ooh, my hero,” came a sugary, familiar, yet somehow generically female voice, and this time it was Rikuo’s head that was manipulated, by red-taloned hands nonetheless. Rikuo’s brain, still on the jerk sprawled on the ground, had no time to even register the kiss before it came, let alone do anything about it. So he stood there like a statue as Kazahaya curled his body around Rikuo’s stiff one and pressed their lips together, slanting his submissively, girlishly.
No. Not like this.
The lipstick got in the way, Rikuo’s mind tinnily brought back to him like a peace offering for skipping out on him during a rather important occasion. The pose was all wrong. Kazahaya wouldn’t just melt against someone like this; he’d stay strong and fight for dominance-- even if he didn’t have a chance in hell of winning. In fact, there was no aggression at all. Everything was wrong. It wasn’t Kazahaya at all.
It wasn’t Kazahaya at all.
Rikuo pushed him--her, whatever-- away, glaring down into golden eyes softened uncharacteristically toward him, a mouth that usually spent its time frowning or yelling at him smiling gently. “Thank you,” it said, again sounding like Kazahaya and yet not all at once. And then-- Kazahaya fainted dead away. Rikuo just caught him; he should have expected it to happen, but he was really off his game tonight. That damn kiss unsettled him in more ways than he was ready for.
Damn it, Kazahaya… It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
--
Waking only to find Rikuo hovering over him, face hardly centimeters above his own was always a disconcerting experience for Kazahaya. He couldn’t count how many times it had occurred, but that didn’t stop him from screaming any less loud, and right in Rikuo’s face, too.
“Rikuo! What the--?”
He could smell Kakei’s perfume, cologne, whatever--a faint scent-- but all he could see was Rikuo, looming above him, hand holding Kazahaya’s wrist to the pillow--wait. Why was he doing that? Kazahaya looked as bewildered as he felt. “Rikuo, wha--?” He never got to finish his sentence.
Rikuo’s mouth was warm against his own, insistent, and easy to submit to. For a strange, offbeat moment Kazahaya’s eyes slid closed, and his own mouth opened against Rikuo’s, willing. Then, he was struggling, flailing, pushing Rikuo off, his lips thinning.
And that, Rikuo thought as he let Kazahaya go and walked away, Kazahaya cursing and snarling at his back, is how it’s supposed to go.
“I would call that,” murmured Kakei, perched in the doorway, “mission accomplished.”
Author: K M B
Rating: PG
Warnings: crossdressing, but that really isn’t a warning when it comes to Legal Drug, is it?
Word count: 704
Summary: You can’t just go around stealing people’s first kisses like that and not expect retaliation, now can you?
A/N: prompt - Legal Drug, Rikuo/Kazahaya: Rikuo saves Kazahaya's life by sacrificing something irreplaceable - Now it's personal - So very, very sorry for lateness! I blame tornadoes, snow, and ice (oh my!) for the massive delay.
He was coming toward Rikuo with a walk that wasn’t his. Nonexistent hips somehow gained a womanly curve, the lilt to his body movements completely foreign. Rikuo had seen it before, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling.
A whistle. “Hey, baby,” and Kazahaya’s eyes lost focus on Rikuo, swinging to take in the new guy. His-- her-- lips curved in a way that more than hinted at sex; it suggested it in blatant red and black tones, like nightfall and blood and mouths. “Kazahaya,” Rikuo warned, but it was too late. He’d drifted away, a warning-- KEEP AWAY-- in that red dress, so thoughtfully fashioned by Saiga. The kind that left legs and arms and back bare, along with anything for the imagination.
The newcomer-- some guy on the dark street-- was reaching out as Kazahaya came close; welcoming what was so obviously offered. Words were exchanged, but Rikuo couldn’t be bothered taking them in. For the moment, he was too preoccupied with seeing red.
It was when the unnamed assailant-- that’s what Rikuo felt compelled to call the young-faced businessman in the rumpled suit-- cupped the back of Kazahaya’s head, tilting his face upward that made something inside Rikuo snap. Fuck if they were on a job. Fuck if this guy was the mark. He wasn’t going to stand for this shit a moment longer.
Yanking the guy back by the collar of his jacket like he would a disobedient kitten, Rikuo wasted no time in voicing his concerns with a fist to the punk’s face. He went down like he was supposed to, limbs wheeling and flopping, obviously unused to aggression of any kind.
“Ooh, my hero,” came a sugary, familiar, yet somehow generically female voice, and this time it was Rikuo’s head that was manipulated, by red-taloned hands nonetheless. Rikuo’s brain, still on the jerk sprawled on the ground, had no time to even register the kiss before it came, let alone do anything about it. So he stood there like a statue as Kazahaya curled his body around Rikuo’s stiff one and pressed their lips together, slanting his submissively, girlishly.
No. Not like this.
The lipstick got in the way, Rikuo’s mind tinnily brought back to him like a peace offering for skipping out on him during a rather important occasion. The pose was all wrong. Kazahaya wouldn’t just melt against someone like this; he’d stay strong and fight for dominance-- even if he didn’t have a chance in hell of winning. In fact, there was no aggression at all. Everything was wrong. It wasn’t Kazahaya at all.
It wasn’t Kazahaya at all.
Rikuo pushed him--her, whatever-- away, glaring down into golden eyes softened uncharacteristically toward him, a mouth that usually spent its time frowning or yelling at him smiling gently. “Thank you,” it said, again sounding like Kazahaya and yet not all at once. And then-- Kazahaya fainted dead away. Rikuo just caught him; he should have expected it to happen, but he was really off his game tonight. That damn kiss unsettled him in more ways than he was ready for.
Damn it, Kazahaya… It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
--
Waking only to find Rikuo hovering over him, face hardly centimeters above his own was always a disconcerting experience for Kazahaya. He couldn’t count how many times it had occurred, but that didn’t stop him from screaming any less loud, and right in Rikuo’s face, too.
“Rikuo! What the--?”
He could smell Kakei’s perfume, cologne, whatever--a faint scent-- but all he could see was Rikuo, looming above him, hand holding Kazahaya’s wrist to the pillow--wait. Why was he doing that? Kazahaya looked as bewildered as he felt. “Rikuo, wha--?” He never got to finish his sentence.
Rikuo’s mouth was warm against his own, insistent, and easy to submit to. For a strange, offbeat moment Kazahaya’s eyes slid closed, and his own mouth opened against Rikuo’s, willing. Then, he was struggling, flailing, pushing Rikuo off, his lips thinning.
And that, Rikuo thought as he let Kazahaya go and walked away, Kazahaya cursing and snarling at his back, is how it’s supposed to go.
“I would call that,” murmured Kakei, perched in the doorway, “mission accomplished.”