Almost Easy
Title: Almost Easy
Author: stupeur
Beta: cranperryjuice
Rating: NC-17 (language, alcohol and drug use, some violence, and hot, graphic mansex. :D)
Pairing: Synyster Gates (Avenged Sevenfold) x Miya (MUCC)
Summary: Miya joins a tour across the United States and proceeds to get several of his cherries popped.
Notes: This idea has been brewing in my head for, gosh, a year or so, but I only managed to write it now. This is set during the 2008 RTOC tour to which Avenged Sevenfold and MUCC took part. Miya has been a fan of A7X for several years - he made a cover of Critical Acclaim with a session band called Avenged Eightfold and proceeded to call Synyster "absolutely wonderful" on his blog while RTOC was taking place. He's quite obviously jizzing his pants over Syn, and this really needed to be done. :D;
Some notes about the story: drugs in Japan are a ~big deal~, Guccha is Miya's nickname, and yes, Synyster did ask Miya to teach him judo (that's the kind of shit I couldn't make up even if I wanted to). I took the liberty to not put any of the scenes in chronological order, but it really shouldn't be hard to follow. Some characters obviously only speak Japanese or almost, but it should be obvious who speaks in what language. Oh, and the title comes from an A7X song - it's a terrible pun, and I apologize for it.
Reference pictures are here and here. Enjoy ♥
---
The stars behind Miya's eyelids start to dissipate and he's vaguely aware of some foreign words being hissed into his ear, but he's not even trying to take them in - he doesn't even know where he is anymore. All he feels is his head spinning and teeth and nails and pain and the thump-a-thump of his heartbeat and no air- no air- and Miya wonders if he's really going to die at the other end of the world, suffocated between the wall of a toilet stall and the chest of an American guy he barely knows. A hand then clutches his erection, still throbbing in his jeans from the orgasm he's just had, and he cries out and he's finally able to breathe again. The same hand forces him to his knees, clutching his hair, and Miya starts to suck feverishly, hearing himself moan in satisfaction as the hard cock starts to move hard and fast between his lips.
He can't tell when he decided that he was fine with letting guys fuck his mouth in public places - but when it's filled with Synyster Gates' cock, he doesn't give a shit about what he spent a lifetime thinking about himself. He loves it.
He fucking loves it.
---
Things become far more manageable after Miya has gotten a decent amount of sleep. He rapidly gets used to the tour routine despite the cold winter of the northern states. Communication is still very hard, though, and he soon realizes that the toughest challenge is not going to be taking place on stage at all.
Synyster, however, does not seem fazed in the slightest by the language difference. Shortly into the tour, he passes Miya by while he's watching Blessthefall rehearse and thrusts a CD into his hand. Miya later returns the disc along with one he's recently bought, and shortly after, Synyster helps himself to Miya's iPod in exchange for his own.
MUCC are barely done with their sound check the next day when Synyster walks up to Miya. "Mi, you gotta help me out. I can't read that shit." He hands him a piece of paper and it takes Miya a moment to understand that he tried to copy down a series of Japanese characters. It takes him another to decipher the scribbling.
"Name Maximum the Hormone. Good." He raises his thumb in appreciation, but Synyster just snorts.
"Maximum the what?"
"Hormone," Miya repeats. "You... eat hormone?" he tries hesitatingly, earning himself a look of horror from Synyster.
"What kinda shit are you on, dude?"
Miya, now completely at a loss, can only thank the skies when their translator comes to his rescue.
"He's talking about hourumon, not hormone," Taka explains with a grin. "It's fried guts, basically."
Synyster laughs. "And you guys eat that?"
"Yeah, I like it. It's much better than it sounds."
Miya ponders for a second, tilting his head to the side when Synyster points his index at him questioningly. "Maybe okay."
A shudder runs down Synyster's body. "Fuck that, man. Anyway, so what about that one?" he asks while producing Miya's iPod from his pocket. He turns it on and points to the artist's name on the screen.
"Ah, Midori!" Taka exclaims excitedly. "They're from my hometown, Osaka."
"Osaka, eh? That's fucking rad, dude, I love Osaka. The chicks are fucking smoking," Synyster comments with a smirk before turning to Miya. "You guys are from Tokyo, right?"
"Shusshin?" he asks Taka for confirmation. "No. Ibaraki," he answers, and he can tell from Synyster's expression that he's never heard of it. "Etto... Tokyo..." All Miya can think of is pointing upwards.
"North of Tokyo?"
"Yes." Pause. "Doinaka tte nante iu no?"
Taka laughs and explains, "Ibaraki's in the countryside. Like... Yeah. There's nothing to do there."
"Countryside ka," Miya mutters to himself before turning to Synyster, grinning. "Demo, I like. Natto very delicious."
Taka describes natto as "stinky, snotty fermented soybeans" before the question even arises and Synyster bursts out laughing. "Fucking Japanese!"
He and Taka then go on exchanging about Japanese food, and while Miya tries his hardest to follow the conversation, he finds himself unable to keep up with them in a matter of seconds. He instead resorts to nodding his head at key moments in the conversation, feeling an irrational tinge of envy. To add insult to injury, his answer to a seemingly innocent question suddenly causes both Synyster and Taka to break into a fit of laughter.
"Fuck, man, didn't think you had that in you!"
"E-Eh?" Miya blurts out in confusion, looking back and forth between the two of them, but Synyster simply ignores his question.
"You should come to our bus after the live so we can jam and shit," he says instead, patting Miya's shoulder, and then adds to Taka's attention, "Make sure he got that, dude." Smirking, he raises his hand at them briefly before leaving.
---
"I can't fucking believe you fucking hit Matt. You have a fucking death wish or what?" Zacky says before leaning on the bathroom wall and stuffing his mouth with a handful of nachos from the bag he's brought along.
Synyster is sitting on the counter and Miya struggles to keep him still long enough to press a bunch of towels to his nose. It's fortunately not broken, but it's bleeding a lot, and Miya makes a mental note never to piss Shadows off.
"Don't fucking rub it in, Zack." Synyster's voice is comically nasal due to Miya pinching the bridge of his nose, and he would have laughed if he wasn't so riled up by the whole thing.
"What the hell did you fight about, anyway?" Zacky asks.
"... Stuff."
"... You punched Matt and almost got your fucking nose ripped off your fucking face over stuff?" Zacky notices the blood dripping through Miya's fingers and grabs several paper towels from the dispenser before handing them to him.
"He was being an ass for no fucking reason, so I told him off and, uh... it kinda went downhill from there," Synyster answers vaguely while Miya quickly throws out the blood-soaked towels before pressing the clean ones to his nose, pushing his head down again.
Zacky snickers loudly. "Yeah, well, I kinda noticed that. What the fuck did he say to get you so worked up, anyway?"
Miya catches Synyster looking up at him for a fraction of a second before looking down again. "... Never mind. It was retarded."
"For fuck's sake, Bri, you know how Matt is when he's drunk. You just fucking let him be."
"... All right, I screwed up. Happy now?"
The door opens at that moment and Karyu walks into the bathroom. He loses his footing momentarily, regaining his balance at the last second, and turns considerably paler when he realizes that he's just slipped on the blood that has dripped on the floor tiles. His eyes go from the red puddle to Synyster, then to Miya. "... What happened?"
"He got into a fight," Miya replies, heaving a sigh. "I don't know what it was all about, though." The last part is a lie. He knows.
"... Oh," Karyu simply says. "I hope everyone's okay."
"Genki desu ka?" Zacky asks him with a horribly mangled accent, holding out the foil bag in Karyu's direction.
"G-Genki desu," Karyu replies, obviously taken aback. He refuses the nachos with a wave of his hand and heads towards the urinals hurriedly.
A long silence follows, during which all that is heard is the sound of Karyu peeing and the crunching of Zacky eating nachos. Miya briefly removes the towels from Synyster's face only to press them back into place when he sees blood running down his upper lip again.
"You wanna go to the hospital or something? You'll bleed to death at this rate."
"I'm fine," Synyster hisses, raising his head to glare at Zacky, and Miya smacks it down for the umpteenth time. Zacky shrugs and offers nachos to Miya, who refuses wordlessly - he wouldn't want to take any with his bloodied hands even if he did feel like eating some. Karyu leaves the bathroom discreetly, carefully avoiding the blood on the floor this time, and several minutes pass before Miya finally speaks:
"How is nose?"
"... I think it's fine now."
Miya takes off the towels carefully, relieved to see that the bleeding indeed seems to have stopped. He throws out the towels and washes his hands before handing Synyster a bunch of clean towels so that he can wash off the dried blood sticking to his face. "Good night," he simply says, and he's about to leave the bathroom when he feels someone clutching his wrist.
"Hey," Synyster starts, and Miya sees something strange in his eyes, "I'm sorry, 'kay?"
Miya shrugs and tries for a smile before heading directly to his hotel room, not at all in the mood for partying anymore.
---
Synyster's idea of jamming, this time, is apparently to send Miya soaring higher than he ever has.
All the alarm bells in Miya's mind go off when the Rev produces a plastic bag filled with white powder and starts cutting lines on a D'espairsRay CD as casually as if he were watering the plants. Of course, Miya's heard stories, so it doesn't come as that much of a surprise, but he didn't really expect it to happen right in front of his eyes, and he certainly never expected to be invited to join in. All he can think of is his acquaintance who got caught with meth and almost ruined his musical career in the process. Marijuana was already a big deal for Miya and he never considered going any further than that.
And then it occurs to him that no one in the room seems to be giving a fuck about what's happening around the coffee table, and he manages to relax a bit.
"Him too?" the Rev asks Synyster, pointing at Miya.
"Yeah, let him have a line. If you want, that is," Synyster adds to Miya, and the crooked grin he flashes him basically blows to smithereens any reserves he's had.
The Rev chuckles. "That'll be interesting."
The voice in Miya's head is still telling him he should get the hell out of there, but he somehow can't bring himself to do so. He watches the Rev prepare the cocaine into neat rows with a credit card, and he's fascinated and dying to know just how far exactly this fucking tour will take him. He suddenly imagines the horrible fit his manager would throw if he saw him now, waiting patiently for his line of coke like it were a cup of tea, and the thought is so wild, so crazy and so deliciously unreasonable that when the Rev cuts a straw into three pieces and hands him one, he knows he has to go through with this.
"You've never done coke before, right?" Synyster asks, and the Rev laughs loudly at that.
"Dude, Japan's way too fucking tight-assed for that." He's barely finished talking that the first line has vanished up his nose, and he pushes the CD case towards his bandmate.
"True. Mi's cool, though. He's got guts." Synyster inserts his own piece of the straw into one of his nostrils, pushes the other closed with his index and inhales deeply. "Your turn," he tells Miya, sliding the case in his direction.
Miya doesn't allow himself to think about it twice and imitates him. The feeling is strange, not particularly pleasant, and the inside of his nostril is a little dry and itchy after. He can't help but wiggle his nose a bit (the Rev is obviously very amused by that) before leaning back against the wall, waiting nervously. He's not even sure how the drug is supposed to affect him, and he hopes he hasn't just done something really stupid.
He feels Synyster squeeze his knee briefly under the table. "It'll be a fun ride."
---
Miya heads to Avenged Sevenfold's bus, taking along his main guitar and his vocalist. As soon as he steps in, he is offered a beer (or rather, a can is shoved into his hand before he even has time to refuse) and a cable so that he can plug his guitar in the Bogner amp.
"You guys wanna join in?" Shadows inquires while he and Tatsurou settle before the television screen, X-Box controllers in hand.
"Maybe later. I need to have my way with Mi's guitar first," Synyster says before stretching his hand out to take Miya's guitar. "Just go ahead and grab this one," he adds detachedly, motioning in the direction of his own guitar as he sits down on the couch with Miya's instrument on his lap.
Miya has to try his hardest to not smile like an idiot when he takes the Schecter, allowing himself a moment to admire it. It's beautiful yet sturdy-looking, and he is a little surprised at first by how heavy the neck feels in his hand. He moves the guitar slightly under the light to better see the glint of the silver stripes on its body, then looks at the inlays of the fretboard, smiling to himself while he examines the Avenged Sevenfold logo and the "Syn" spelled in Gothic lettering.
There he is, holding Synyster's signature model. He strums the strings one by one with his thumb, listening attentively to each note. The Schecter is perfectly tuned and Miya starts playing the chord sequence he's had in his head since morning.
"Man, it's been forever since I touched a seven-string," Synyster admits, but his lips arbor the same defiant smirk as usual. He clutches the neck of the black Dragonfly and improvises a melody to go along with Miya's chords. They play together for a moment and try to overpower each other the next, trading the lead and rhythm roles and having fun with divebombs and shred. There's something exciting, empowering even with watching his own fingers toying with the whammy bar of the Schecter, and Miya gets that same feeling when he looks at Synyster's hands running along the wooden neck of his Dragonfly.
He's been looking back and forth between their hands for a while when he unexpectedly catches Synyster's eyes staring straight into his - his heart skips a beat and he manages to get a terribly discordant sound out of the guitar.
"Sorry," Miya mumbles as he puts the instrument down to grab his can of beer and sip on it timidly. He's never been fond of the taste of alcohol, but the dryness in his throat is begging him to drink something.
"Good idea," Synyster says with a grin, then chugs his own beer.
---
"Jesus fucking Christ," Synyster mutters between his teeth, running a hand down his face. Miya can't help but grin at the sight and gives Synyster's erection a light squeeze before increasing both the pressure and the pace of his hand as he keeps caressing him through his jeans. He presses his lips on his neck, working his way down to the curve of his shoulder until he feels Synyster's hand turning his head in his direction.
"C'mere," he whispers, and Miya complies, pushing his lips to his in a heated kiss. Synyster's tongue darts into his mouth and Miya closes his lips around it gently when he pulls out, resuming the kiss immediately after having sucked on his bottom lip briefly. He feels Synyster's hands sliding under his shirt to stroke his chest and his sides and his back, and he moans through the kiss when one of Synyster's legs moves to press itself against his crotch, a wave of heat suddenly rushing through his body.
Synyster breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, and the next second, Miya finds himself on his back, pinned between Synyster's body and the mattress. He's much too heavy for him to do much but arch his back in both pleasure and anticipation and open his legs wider - so he does exactly that and wraps his legs around Synyster's body to increase the friction, thighs closed tight around his hips. Synyster has barely just started to rub his erection hard against Miya's, tearing a series of moans out of his throat, when a loud ringing suddenly fills the room, causing them both to tense in surprise.
The wake-up call. It's six in the morning.
"... You're supposed to get ready now, right?" Synyster asks, but Miya barely leaves him enough to time to end his question before pressing his mouth against his. He reaches blindly for the phone and pushes the receiver down the bedside table to stop the alarm. He'll eat at the airport, he decides, and he'll take a shower when he's back in Tokyo if he has to. His suitcase is mostly packed and he probably would've slept in, anyway, had Synyster not been with him.
The next second, however, he can feel Synyster's hand snaking inside his boxers and wrapping itself around his bare cock, and Miya's too busy focusing on the weight of his body on top of his and the sensation of his rough fingertips on his erection and the scrape of stubble on his face to give the slightest fuck about anything else.
---
"... So are you guys fucking?"
Miya almost stabs himself in the throat with his toothbrush when he hears the question. He leans down towards the sink to spit the excess foam out of his mouth before shooting a glare in Yukke's direction. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't think too hard. You know," he answers detachedly, staring at his own reflection while he runs the razor down his jawbone.
"... Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't. And I'm not fucking anyone, for the record," Miya quickly adds before starting to brush his teeth again, this time with an unusual vigor.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry then. It's just that I could've sworn you and Synyster had a thing going on."
There's a twinge of pain in Miya's gum when he clenches the handle of his toothbrush and gets a little too enthusiastic. "He's a talented guy and we get along fine," he manages despite the foam in his mouth. "I don't know why you think we're having sex."
"Uh-huh," Yukke says, rinsing the shaving cream off his razor under the tap. "So I suppose he asked me to lend him my card key in the middle of the night just to teach you some new riff or something?"
Miya now really wishes he hadn't been standing topless in front of a mirror to see how red both his face and chest instantly turned. Yukke would never let him live that one down now that he perfectly knew Synyster and he were together before he walked into their room the previous night - especially considering the state he'd found Miya in then.
"Well?" Yukke eggs him on, a smirk drawing itself on his lips. Obviously he's noticed the blush. He'd have to be blind not to.
Miya spits into the sink again, noticing a fine streak of blood in the toothpaste foam, and grabs a cup off the counter to rinse his mouth. "Fine. We're fucking. Happy now?"
"Not really. You never told me you were into guys?"
Is he? He's never really thought about it, nor does he really care to at the moment. Miya simply shrugs before drying his face with a towel and throwing it back on the rod carelessly.
"... Well?"
"I'm not 'into guys' or whatever. It's just him, I guess."
Yukke nods pensively and splashes some aftershave on before plugging his straightening iron into the wall socket and turning it on. He then briefly looks Miya in the eyes through the mirror. "... Do you like him?"
Miya shrugs again. "Tell me nobody else knows about it," he says, mostly in an attempt to change the subject.
Yukke chuckles. "Nah, they probably just think you're really into his guitars or something."
"Cool." That somehow doesn't make him feel any better, however, and he grabs the shaving cream and slathers his face with it, purposely avoiding to look at Yukke's eyes as he does so. Not a word is spoken while he shaves and Yukke straightens his bangs.
It's Yukke who finally breaks the silence. "... Is it really big?" he asks, and Miya could swear he's trying not to laugh.
He feels like screaming, but he somehow manages to control himself and instead settles for clocking Yukke with the can of shaving cream.
---
The sun is already high in the sky when Miya wakes up for the second time that day. The aspirins he gulped down after he was finally done puking his guts out earlier in the morning apparently did their trick - the throbbing pain in his head vanished somewhere along the line. He's suddenly aware that he's alone in the bus, and the first thought that crosses his mind is that he's probably late for soundcheck until he remembers that today is the first day off they've had in a while.
Which is the reason why he even allowed himself to party so hard the night before.
Miya sighs and lets his head fall back on the pillow. There's no rush and he still feels somewhat fuzzy from last night's overindulgences, so he closes his eyes, trying to go backwards through his memory. The realization that he's drawing some major blanks is a bit terrifying. He remembers throwing up for what felt like hours, Tatsurou rubbing his back patiently, and he also remembers the party pretty well - that is, up to the point where he was handed a glass of black beer. Everything in-between is a blur.
And yet, he can somehow perfectly recall Pantera's Walk playing at some point, the blinding flash of Yukke's camera, drinking something that tasted like licorice, someone's tongue in his mouth, the spicy scent of aftershave, the bright colors of ink, greens, oranges and blues...
He's dozing off again when the door opens, and the sound of footsteps inside the bus wakes him up.
"'Morning, Mi. Or 'afternoon, I guess." It's Synyster, and he's carrying a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. "Sorry about yesterday. Heard you got pretty sick," he says with an apologetic smile.
Miya rubs his eyes as he sits up. He's picked up "sorry" and "sick", and shakes his head, a long yawn overtaking him before he manages to say something.
"How're you feeling?" Synyster asks. He puts the box down on the table along with a Starbucks cup that Miya hadn't noticed.
"Okay," he answers, smiling tiredly. "Where's members...?"
"Tatsurou's at the mall or something. The others are prob'ly with him."
Miya catches Synyster glancing at his chest and he's suddenly very much aware of how shirtless he is. He feels ridiculously skinny and white and plain, and he's not even sure where his mind is getting this from, but for some reason it evokes the pressure of a well-defined chest against his own, large, strong shoulders and the tight hold of muscled arms around him.
It's the growl of his own stomach that brings him back to Earth.
"Have some," Synyster says, chuckling, and motions to the donut box and the coffee. "I got 'em for you."
Miya smiles at him, appreciating the gesture. "Thank." He decides to go for the coffee first - his throat is still dry and sore from all the puking and a hot drink definitely sounds like something he could use. He takes off the cap only to be met with a cloud of whipped cream and ground cinnamon, and the coffee itself is indecently sweet and warm and perfect, and it rolls down his throat like velvet.
He chuckles when he notices the "Brian" scribbled across the cup in felt pen as he puts it down before opening the donut box. He offers some to Synyster, but he turns down the offer with a slight wave of his hand. Miya ponders for a moment before electing the powdered cake first, taking a careful bite in case his stomach opposes. It doesn't, and he attacks the donut enthusiastically.
"I'll be on my way," Synyster says, getting up. "... You've got some sugar here," he adds with a grin, pointing to his own bottom lip, but Miya doesn't even have time to think about wiping it off before Synyster catches his chin between his thumb and index and leans in to lick the powder off his mouth. "See you around," he says with a wink, and he heads towards the front of the bus, leaving Miya to his half-eaten donut, mouth ajar.
---
Miya is so tired he can't even process the music, voices and the tinkling of glass as anything other than a loud ringing in his ears, and the dissonance of a language he barely knows all around him does nothing to spare his nerves. He's been in America for less than 48 hours and everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. The instruments they brought from Japan fucked off to the wrong fucking country, and the day he thought he'd spend recovering from the fifteen-hour flight has instead been spent running around a city he doesn't know to get his hands on replacements.
A headache is imminent, he knows it.
Leaning his elbow against the bar counter, Miya lets his head sink against the palm of his hand and closes his eyes. He can almost feel the glances the barmaid is throwing him, but he's confident that she won't approach him. In fact, he's certain nobody will. He's probably giving the worst first impression, but he's too exhausted to be bothered.
However, against all expectations, a friendly slap on the shoulder and a somewhat familiar voice suddenly pull him out of his own head.
"Hey, Miya! 'S been a while! How's it going?" Synyster settles down on the stool next to his, a beer in his hand and a large grin on his face. That wasn't Japanese he spoke just now and that's about the extent of what Miya understood. He must look quite confused, because Synyster promptly reformulates his question, detaching every syllable. "How are you?"
"I... good," Miya answers hesitantly. His English sounds completely broken even to his own ears and he feels what little confidence he had melting like snow in the sun. He doesn't even attempt to return the question and simply points at Synyster questioningly.
"Doing great. Not too jet-lagged?"
Miya tilts his head to the side, staring at him awkwardly.
"Jet-lagged. Like, tired? Because of the plane?" Synyster opens his arms wide to suggest the wings of an airplane.
"... Oh. Yes. Very."
"I'll get you a refill, you look like you need one," Synyster announces, a corner of his mouth curving upwards in a smile. He shouts something to the barmaid and, a minute later, she brings Miya a second, full glass of orange juice. "Cheers!"
Some beer spills into his drink when Synyster hits his pint of Guinness not-so-lightly against his glass. Miya braces himself in anticipation to the bitter taste of black beer as he gulps down a mouthful. What he isn't expecting, though, is vodka suddenly burning down his throat - and before he can control himself, he spits it back into the glass before choking hard, eyes watering.
Synyster pats his back helpfully, laughing. "Figured it'd perk you up!"
---
Miya wakes up suddenly, feeling disoriented. He apparently fell asleep without meaning to - the lights and the television are still on, and his eyes are dry due to the fact that he didn't even take the time to remove his contact lenses. He glances at the alarm clock: it's two in the morning, still early by musician standards, and Miya figures that Yukke is most likely still partying downstairs.
He's dozing off again when he hears the door open and close. "Welcome back," he mumbles in Japanese, not even bothering to raise the arm he's thrown over his eyes.
"Hey, it's me."
Miya's eyes snap open at the unexpected voice, but he lets his head fall back against the pillow when he recognizes Synyster, letting out a sigh of relief. "... Very scare," he mutters, rubbing his face.
"Sorry," Synyster says, visibly amused. "You alone in here?"
Miya glances up at him briefly through his half-lidded eyes. "... What?"
"Alone? Only Miya?"
"... Yes. Only Miya," he repeats affirmatively.
"Good."
He hears Synyster fiddle with the safety chain and he wonders how he managed to unlock the door- he and Yukke are supposedly the only persons in possession of the card keys to their room- but then he doesn't really care anymore because Synyster's body is lying on top of his own.
"Thanks for your help earlier," he whispers into his ear. Miya merely grunts as an answer and Synyster chuckles, his breath tickling the skin of his neck. "You still pissed off?"
"Why... Matt... fight?" Miya manages, his brain still much too fuzzy to think in a foreign language.
"'Cause he called you something bad."
"I know, but..." Miya concentrates for a moment, but eventually has to give up most of his arguments. English is obviously not happening tonight. "No need," he finally lets out with a sigh.
Synyster shrugs. "It pissed me off."
Miya opens his mouth to say something, but then Synyster's tongue darts into his ear teasingly and he can't think anymore. His lips move along his jaw until they reach his own and Synyster kisses him hard, his mouth still tasting of beer and cigarettes. Miya instinctively closes his thighs around his hips as he kisses him back hungrily, running his hands through his hair and down his back. He slides his fingers under the hem of his shirt, moving them up to his shoulder blades, then down his spine to his ass, feeling the strong muscles ripple under his caresses.
Synyster's hands snake between their bodies to tug Miya's t-shirt up and expose his whole chest, and then he's all over it - he first trails his tongue along his collarbone and tugs at a nipple with his teeth before kissing his way down to his belly and sucking on a hipbone. Miya's already hard when Synyster slides a hand under the elastic waistband of his boxers and wraps it around his cock, and it doesn't take much more than a few strokes for it to become completely stiff. He pulls it out and slides his mouth down the length before running his tongue along the underside, and a small whimper of indignation escapes Miya's lips when Synyster starts flicking his tongue at the head teasingly.
"Impatient, are we?" he says with a crooked grin, tightly wrapping his thumb and his forefinger around the base of his cock and pumping it a couple of times. He then finally moves his lips down the head and starts sucking on it slowly, agonizingly so, causing Miya to squirm a bit and whimper feebly. However, it's a whole flow of moans that pours out of his mouth when Synyster finally takes his whole erection into his mouth to suck him hard and fast, lips enclosing it tight.
"... Ikisou," Miya mutters between his teeth minutes later, and Synyster's apparently picked up the meaning somewhere along the line because he slows down despite Miya's indignant plea. He doesn't last that much longer, but it's still enough to push him over the edge with much more intensity than it would have otherwise, and it's a whole fucking galaxy that Miya sees when he comes inside Synyster's mouth.
His bones still feel like jelly when Synyster moves to kiss him. "'Later," he whispers between their mouths and promptly exits the room, leaving Miya still trying to catch his breath. His orgasm has completely drained him and he dozes off again in a matter of seconds, wondering very briefly if it was all a very vivid wet dream.
He wakes up suddenly when something soft hits him in the face. "Nngh!" Miya objects, slapping the pillow off his face and off the bed.
"Your dick's hanging out, Guccha," Yukke says with a knowing smirk, and Miya feels himself turn beet red, wishing he could disappear.
---
Miya heads backstage as soon as he's done with the interview, but it's kept him busy for longer than he expected and he only makes it to the middle of Avenged Sevenfold's set. He finds a nice spot on top of a big crate, out of the staff's way and with a clear view of the performance, and he's on the right side of the stage, something about which he's much more excited than he really should be.
It's a great performance - the band is at the top of its shape, the crowd is electrified and Synyster is hot. Fucking hot. It's one thing to see him play the guitar while they're just the two of them sprawled on the couch, not caring all that much if what they play sounds like crap or not, and another to see him perform for a few thousands of people, oozing with confidence and poise and looking like he owns the whole place. Miya never gets sick of watching his fingers running up and down the frets, his muscles moving under his tattoos when he raises his arms to get the audience even more worked up than it already is, the sweat rolling down his temples, the way his long, strong legs carry him across the stage or the playful glint in his eyes when he runs over to Zacky's side with apparently the sole intention of disrupting his concentration.
Synyster is going back to his usual position when he spots him watching the show and his lips curl up, and Miya feels the irrational urge to laugh - maybe because that smile is for him and not any of the three thousand something people there. He gets another smile and a high five when Synyster steps off stage minutes later before taking his Fedora off and dropping it on Miya's head instead. "Let's jam again tonight," he says, but the way he looks at him makes it clear that what's really on his mind is entirely different.
---
"I got a gift for you ladies," Johnny announces as he steps into the bus. He flops down on the couch and takes not a cigarette, but a joint out of his pack.
"Sweet!" Synyster exclaims, grinning wide.
Shadows, curious, turns away from the screen briefly to glance above his shoulder and his second of inattention is all Scorpion needs to KO Baraka. "Motherfucker!" Shadows shouts at the television while the Tarkatan's decapitated head flies across the screen, followed by an arc of blood.
"Mother?" Tatsurou repeats, puzzled, his triumphant fist lingering in the air.
"Like, someone who fucks his own mother," Shadows explains, chuckling at Tatsurou's confusion. "It's an insult. Like 'asshole'. Or 'son of a bitch', or 'dick' or something, you know?"
Miya is vaguely aware that Tatsurou is turning to him for help, but his attention is more focused on the marijuana cigarette as it's being passed from Johnny to Synyster. He watches Synyster insert the stick between his lips to take a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling it slowly, staring back at Miya all along.
"Good shit," he whispers to his attention and leans forward to hand him the joint. Miya debates with himself for barely a fraction of a second before stretching out his hand to take it.
"So 'motherfucker' is like, a very bad word," Shadows tries again. "Get it now?"
"Ah!" Tatsurou exclaims as comprehension finally seems to dawn on him. "Nonoshiri ka?"
"Sou kamo ne," Miya answers absent-mindedly, concentrating on the alien taste of the smoke he's just breathed out.
"Want some?" Shadows asks Tatsurou after taking a long drag.
"No. No smoke, motherfucker," Tatsurou replies and the three Americans burst out laughing. "Other? Motherfucker toka?"
"I personally like 'cocksucker'," Synyster suggests.
"If it's a girl," Johnny starts, "you can call her a bitch or a whore."
"Or a slut."
"Or a cunt."
"And add 'fucking' before. Like, 'you fucking cunt'. Or 'you motherfucking asshole'."
Miya snickers loudly when he notices that Tatsurou is mouthing all the suggestions to himself, obviously in an attempt to remember them. "Please don't call anyone that while we're here," he warns him jokingly.
"You fucking motherfucker," Tatsurou promptly answers, and Miya flips him off. "Cocksucker," he replies, completely clueless as to what exactly he's just called Tatsurou.
"Dude, I love that," Synyster comments, laughing. "They're fucking naturals."
"Man, I know. Hey, so what d'you guys say in Japanese?" Shadows asks, turning to Miya and Tatsurou. The two of them look at each other pensively.
"'Kusotare'?" Tatsurou tries first.
"'Chikushoume'," Miya adds after a few seconds of thought.
Synyster chuckles and raises his chin at Johnny defiantly. "Give me that joint, ksotaree."
"Pssh, come and get it, fucking chook- chookshoo- whatever the fuck it was."
Miya luckily manages to swallow his sip of beer before he bursts out laughing and looks at Tatsurou - right in time to catch his horrified expression as he finally seems to understand just what they had been handing each other all along.
---
Miya gasps when Synyster pushes him down on the bed harshly and moves between his legs, towering over him. They're both high as kites again and everything is going a little too fast for Miya's mind to keep track of it all, but he doesn't exactly mind it, either. The feeling of both his brain and his heart racing is an exhilarating one, and all of his sensations flicker through his mind, brief although abnormally crisp - it's a whirlwind of lips and teeth and callused fingertips, the burn of stubble scraping at his face and neck, the taste of cigarette on Synyster's tongue, the warmth of his body against his and the sound of hard breathing mixed with the music playing in the room.
Synyster's rough- very rough, even- and Miya's not sure if it's the pot he smoked earlier or what, but it's driving him absolutely crazy with lust and he's never felt so aroused in his whole fucking life. A loud moan escapes his mouth when Synyster nips at his bottom lip with his teeth and Miya moves a leg up to rub at his crotch, his hands almost moving of their own accord to get his t-shirt off him. Synyster complies, a grin drawing itself on his lips, and takes it off before dropping it to the floor. It's quite a show - he's all muscles and smooth skin and tattoos, and Miya never gets tired of looking at him.
Then it's Synyster's turn to declare war against Miya's clothes. He unfastens his jeans, tugs at them hard and Miya finds himself half-naked a second later. "Your dick's really cute," Synyster says with a smirk, and Miya kind of really wishes he hadn't understood that, but he's already forgotten about being embarrassed when he feels his cock being grasped tightly. Synyster starts pumping it and Miya simply enjoys the attention for a moment before he thinks of returning the favor, but he barely has time to stretch a hand out towards the front of his pants when he's suddenly flipped over onto his belly like a pancake. "You're gonna like this," Synyster then whispers into his ear and Miya has no idea what he just said, but he knows what's coming next. Synyster trails his tongue down the nape of his neck before moving away from him, and Miya listens to him search for something, daring only then to move on his hands and knees.
He's back on the bed quickly enough and Miya bites his bottom lip when he feels fingers slide into him. Synyster prepares him roughly, obviously impatient to move on to more serious things. Miya's not even sure he's really willing to go that far, but he's perfectly aware that he wouldn't be able to free himself from his hold anyway now that Synyster's apparently decided to have his way with him - and, much to his own surprise, the mere thought causes his cock to twitch in anticipation.
He's just getting used to the feeling of Synyster's fingers fucking him when he pulls out. He hears the sound of his pants being unzipped and throws a glance over his shoulder to see him roll a condom down his erection (for which he is thankful, because he's way too far gone to have thought of it himself). "Ready?" Synyster asks him with an ominous smirk, gripping his hips.
Miya nods a bit before turning to rest his head on his forearms. "Yeah," he manages despite the dryness in his throat and he instinctively clutches the bed covers when he feels Synyster pushing the whole length of his cock into him. It's weird and a little uncomfortable at first, but then he starts moving back and forth and Miya has no idea what's wrong with him, but it feels fucking good - so unexpectedly, unbelievably and overwhelmingly good that he figures it must be the drug, and it just keeps getting better and better as Synyster starts thrusting harder and harder into his ass. Synyster suddenly leans against his shoulders minutes later, Miya's upper body crumbling under the weight and his face landing onto the pillow, and he starts fucking him even faster while he keeps him pinned down and he's way too heavy for Miya to do anything but turn his head to the side so that he can still manage to breathe. Miya can hear him grunt loudly in pleasure behind him and he's vaguely aware that he's being really fucking loud as well and that his own cock is oozing insane amounts of pre-come and it suddenly occurs to him that the CD that's playing is his own band and he cries out into the pillow and he comes so hard everything in his mind goes white.
---
It's cold outside, but Miya is starting to feel really hot. He's put on a few extra layers earlier in order to brave the Illinois weather when he decided to make the most of the sunny, not unbearably cold afternoon and headed outside. Synyster has been showing him some boxing techniques despite Miya's utter lack of potential and aptitude for it, but he doesn't seem to mind the absence of a challenge. Miya doesn't complain either - it's a lot of fun, and if anything, it gives him a reason to not shut himself in the bus all day long.
They've been practicing jabs and hooks and uppercuts for a while now, and it's starting to feel like a furnace under all of Miya's clothes. He unzips his winter coat to uncover his neck in an attempt to cool down a little.
"I'm pretty hot too," Synyster comments, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
"I," Miya starts after he's managed to catch his breath, but he can't remember the word he's looking for to save his life, so he just gestures from himself to Synyster. "Judo?"
That would be his part of the deal. Synyster asked him to teach him judo months ago when they first met in Japan, and Miya had kind of hoped he would forget, but he mentioned it again after the beginning of the tour and there seems to be no escaping it.
"That'd be awesome!" comes Synyster's enthusiastic answer and he takes off the punch pads before throwing them in the snow a little further away from them.
Miya's not too sure how he's going to manage - he only remembers bits and pieces from the classes he took in middle school, and he actually had to look up judo techniques on the Internet to refresh his memory a little. He can only hope he won't come across as too incompetent. He decides to start with something simple, both for Synyster's and his own sake.
Nonetheless, he's a lousy teacher - that, or Synyster is a little too good at throwing people around, he can't quite tell. Either way, he soon can't keep up with his pupil and ends up being the one constantly thrown into the snow, and it seems he's spending more time getting back up to his feet and brushing the snow off his clothes than teaching Synyster anything.
"Yatta!" Miya grins wide when he finally succeeds in tripping Synyster, but he immediately loses his smile - something is tugging hard at his coat and he feels himself falling forward. He realizes too late that Synyster has clutched his coat in his fall, sending the two of them tumbling down and sinking into the snow in a pile of disorderly limbs.
"S-Sorr-" Miya starts, getting off of Synyster hurriedly, but a projectile then hits the side of his head, causing him to end up sprawled on the snow again. There's snow in his hair and on his face, and Miya recognizes Satochi's voice when a triumphant yell resounds from not too far away.
"Dude, you okay?" Synyster asks, sounding highly amused.
"... Y-Yes," Miya answers, still seeing stars. He watches him jump to his feet and gather some snow in his hands before running towards Satochi.
Miya lies in the snow for a moment, staring up at the blue sky until he's managed to stop grinning like an idiot, then finally brings himself to get up and join the snowball fight.
---
Save for Zacky, who managed to get hammered unusually fast and passed out in the bunk bed above them, it's just Miya and Synyster in the bus this time. They've both been lying on their backs for a while, side to side, sharing the earphones of a stray mp3 player. Miya keeps going back and forth between his cigarettes and the joint Synyster has been handing him, despite being high as fuck already, but the haze in his head doesn't feel so strange anymore and it's exactly what he needs to rid himself of the stress that's been building up.
"Last puff," Synyster says, propping himself on one elbow and inserting the blunt between his teeth. Miya's eyes widen in surprise when he unexpectedly towers over him and leans down closer, so close in fact that he can clearly see the faint smudges of kohl still staining his lids, and he has no idea what he's supposed to do. He just stays there, staring at Synyster staring back at him until their mouths almost touch - but they don't, and Miya instead feels the scraping heat of a thin trail of smoke being blown directly into his throat.
He can't help it - he chokes and coughs hard for a while, barely making out a mocking "what were you expecting, a kiss?" from Synyster before he finally manages to control himself enough to grab one of the beer cans stuck between the wall and the mattress and drink a long gulp from it.
Synyster still looks amused when he inhales the last puff of smoke from the blunt and butts it in the ashtray - but his eyes are perfectly serious again when he blows out the smoke again in Miya's mouth, his lips firmly sealed on his.
---
Miya silently ponders the choices the vending machine has to offer, but he's feeling blatantly uninspired. He doesn't feel like having soda or water or even Gatorade - he actually doesn't feel like having anything at all, but he figures he might as well while he's here, and he decides to go for the coffee machine instead.
Opening his wallet, Miya realizes he barely has enough American currency left for a regular coffee, but it's not really a problem now. He shoves his wallet and then his hands into the pocket of his jeans and heaves a sigh while the machine works on his drink. He's running out of time and he can't really afford to waste it around by himself, but he's tired as hell, his nerves are about to give way and he really needs a moment to regroup. He's always hated crying in front of people.
The machine emits a beeping noise and the words "enjoy your coffee" scroll across the small screen. Miya struggles to retrieve the cup without spilling any coffee on his hand and scalding himself in the process, but he eventually manages to take it out. The paper cup is ridiculously small, and when he takes a sip, the coffee turns out to be bitter as fuck and absolutely foul-tasting.
He doesn't mind though. He doesn't give a flying fuck about it, actually.
Miya takes a look at his watch, sipping on his coffee absentmindedly. He has five minutes to wrap things up before leaving, so he turns around and almost drops his cup in surprise when he almost bumps into someone.
"Bikkuri shita," he mumbles to himself, his free hand pressed on his heart.
He's pretty sure Synyster would have laughed at him under any other circumstances, but he doesn't this time. "Sorry, man, didn't mean to scare ya." He's grinning, but it's not quite as usual. "Boss told me you'd be here."
"Yeah. I wanted coffee." Miya hands Synyster his cup. "You want?"
"Nah, thanks. Is it any good?" he asks warily.
"... No," Miya answers, and remembering an expression Zacky taught him, adds, "It taste like ass."
Synyster chuckles. "Figured."
Neither of them says anything for several long seconds after that. Miya eventually opens his mouth to say something- anything, really- just to kill the silence that has settled between them, but before he has a chance to, Synyster pulls him into a tight hug. "I'mma miss you, man," he says quietly, patting Miya's back before letting go. Miya's previous efforts to calm himself are reduced to naught at that and he has to blink back tears before he finally manages to speak:
"See you in Japan, right?"
Synyster gives him a slight smile and Miya notices an unusual glint in his eyes. "For sure."
Author: stupeur
Beta: cranperryjuice
Rating: NC-17 (language, alcohol and drug use, some violence, and hot, graphic mansex. :D)
Pairing: Synyster Gates (Avenged Sevenfold) x Miya (MUCC)
Summary: Miya joins a tour across the United States and proceeds to get several of his cherries popped.
Notes: This idea has been brewing in my head for, gosh, a year or so, but I only managed to write it now. This is set during the 2008 RTOC tour to which Avenged Sevenfold and MUCC took part. Miya has been a fan of A7X for several years - he made a cover of Critical Acclaim with a session band called Avenged Eightfold and proceeded to call Synyster "absolutely wonderful" on his blog while RTOC was taking place. He's quite obviously jizzing his pants over Syn, and this really needed to be done. :D;
Some notes about the story: drugs in Japan are a ~big deal~, Guccha is Miya's nickname, and yes, Synyster did ask Miya to teach him judo (that's the kind of shit I couldn't make up even if I wanted to). I took the liberty to not put any of the scenes in chronological order, but it really shouldn't be hard to follow. Some characters obviously only speak Japanese or almost, but it should be obvious who speaks in what language. Oh, and the title comes from an A7X song - it's a terrible pun, and I apologize for it.
Reference pictures are here and here. Enjoy ♥
---
The stars behind Miya's eyelids start to dissipate and he's vaguely aware of some foreign words being hissed into his ear, but he's not even trying to take them in - he doesn't even know where he is anymore. All he feels is his head spinning and teeth and nails and pain and the thump-a-thump of his heartbeat and no air- no air- and Miya wonders if he's really going to die at the other end of the world, suffocated between the wall of a toilet stall and the chest of an American guy he barely knows. A hand then clutches his erection, still throbbing in his jeans from the orgasm he's just had, and he cries out and he's finally able to breathe again. The same hand forces him to his knees, clutching his hair, and Miya starts to suck feverishly, hearing himself moan in satisfaction as the hard cock starts to move hard and fast between his lips.
He can't tell when he decided that he was fine with letting guys fuck his mouth in public places - but when it's filled with Synyster Gates' cock, he doesn't give a shit about what he spent a lifetime thinking about himself. He loves it.
He fucking loves it.
---
Things become far more manageable after Miya has gotten a decent amount of sleep. He rapidly gets used to the tour routine despite the cold winter of the northern states. Communication is still very hard, though, and he soon realizes that the toughest challenge is not going to be taking place on stage at all.
Synyster, however, does not seem fazed in the slightest by the language difference. Shortly into the tour, he passes Miya by while he's watching Blessthefall rehearse and thrusts a CD into his hand. Miya later returns the disc along with one he's recently bought, and shortly after, Synyster helps himself to Miya's iPod in exchange for his own.
MUCC are barely done with their sound check the next day when Synyster walks up to Miya. "Mi, you gotta help me out. I can't read that shit." He hands him a piece of paper and it takes Miya a moment to understand that he tried to copy down a series of Japanese characters. It takes him another to decipher the scribbling.
"Name Maximum the Hormone. Good." He raises his thumb in appreciation, but Synyster just snorts.
"Maximum the what?"
"Hormone," Miya repeats. "You... eat hormone?" he tries hesitatingly, earning himself a look of horror from Synyster.
"What kinda shit are you on, dude?"
Miya, now completely at a loss, can only thank the skies when their translator comes to his rescue.
"He's talking about hourumon, not hormone," Taka explains with a grin. "It's fried guts, basically."
Synyster laughs. "And you guys eat that?"
"Yeah, I like it. It's much better than it sounds."
Miya ponders for a second, tilting his head to the side when Synyster points his index at him questioningly. "Maybe okay."
A shudder runs down Synyster's body. "Fuck that, man. Anyway, so what about that one?" he asks while producing Miya's iPod from his pocket. He turns it on and points to the artist's name on the screen.
"Ah, Midori!" Taka exclaims excitedly. "They're from my hometown, Osaka."
"Osaka, eh? That's fucking rad, dude, I love Osaka. The chicks are fucking smoking," Synyster comments with a smirk before turning to Miya. "You guys are from Tokyo, right?"
"Shusshin?" he asks Taka for confirmation. "No. Ibaraki," he answers, and he can tell from Synyster's expression that he's never heard of it. "Etto... Tokyo..." All Miya can think of is pointing upwards.
"North of Tokyo?"
"Yes." Pause. "Doinaka tte nante iu no?"
Taka laughs and explains, "Ibaraki's in the countryside. Like... Yeah. There's nothing to do there."
"Countryside ka," Miya mutters to himself before turning to Synyster, grinning. "Demo, I like. Natto very delicious."
Taka describes natto as "stinky, snotty fermented soybeans" before the question even arises and Synyster bursts out laughing. "Fucking Japanese!"
He and Taka then go on exchanging about Japanese food, and while Miya tries his hardest to follow the conversation, he finds himself unable to keep up with them in a matter of seconds. He instead resorts to nodding his head at key moments in the conversation, feeling an irrational tinge of envy. To add insult to injury, his answer to a seemingly innocent question suddenly causes both Synyster and Taka to break into a fit of laughter.
"Fuck, man, didn't think you had that in you!"
"E-Eh?" Miya blurts out in confusion, looking back and forth between the two of them, but Synyster simply ignores his question.
"You should come to our bus after the live so we can jam and shit," he says instead, patting Miya's shoulder, and then adds to Taka's attention, "Make sure he got that, dude." Smirking, he raises his hand at them briefly before leaving.
---
"I can't fucking believe you fucking hit Matt. You have a fucking death wish or what?" Zacky says before leaning on the bathroom wall and stuffing his mouth with a handful of nachos from the bag he's brought along.
Synyster is sitting on the counter and Miya struggles to keep him still long enough to press a bunch of towels to his nose. It's fortunately not broken, but it's bleeding a lot, and Miya makes a mental note never to piss Shadows off.
"Don't fucking rub it in, Zack." Synyster's voice is comically nasal due to Miya pinching the bridge of his nose, and he would have laughed if he wasn't so riled up by the whole thing.
"What the hell did you fight about, anyway?" Zacky asks.
"... Stuff."
"... You punched Matt and almost got your fucking nose ripped off your fucking face over stuff?" Zacky notices the blood dripping through Miya's fingers and grabs several paper towels from the dispenser before handing them to him.
"He was being an ass for no fucking reason, so I told him off and, uh... it kinda went downhill from there," Synyster answers vaguely while Miya quickly throws out the blood-soaked towels before pressing the clean ones to his nose, pushing his head down again.
Zacky snickers loudly. "Yeah, well, I kinda noticed that. What the fuck did he say to get you so worked up, anyway?"
Miya catches Synyster looking up at him for a fraction of a second before looking down again. "... Never mind. It was retarded."
"For fuck's sake, Bri, you know how Matt is when he's drunk. You just fucking let him be."
"... All right, I screwed up. Happy now?"
The door opens at that moment and Karyu walks into the bathroom. He loses his footing momentarily, regaining his balance at the last second, and turns considerably paler when he realizes that he's just slipped on the blood that has dripped on the floor tiles. His eyes go from the red puddle to Synyster, then to Miya. "... What happened?"
"He got into a fight," Miya replies, heaving a sigh. "I don't know what it was all about, though." The last part is a lie. He knows.
"... Oh," Karyu simply says. "I hope everyone's okay."
"Genki desu ka?" Zacky asks him with a horribly mangled accent, holding out the foil bag in Karyu's direction.
"G-Genki desu," Karyu replies, obviously taken aback. He refuses the nachos with a wave of his hand and heads towards the urinals hurriedly.
A long silence follows, during which all that is heard is the sound of Karyu peeing and the crunching of Zacky eating nachos. Miya briefly removes the towels from Synyster's face only to press them back into place when he sees blood running down his upper lip again.
"You wanna go to the hospital or something? You'll bleed to death at this rate."
"I'm fine," Synyster hisses, raising his head to glare at Zacky, and Miya smacks it down for the umpteenth time. Zacky shrugs and offers nachos to Miya, who refuses wordlessly - he wouldn't want to take any with his bloodied hands even if he did feel like eating some. Karyu leaves the bathroom discreetly, carefully avoiding the blood on the floor this time, and several minutes pass before Miya finally speaks:
"How is nose?"
"... I think it's fine now."
Miya takes off the towels carefully, relieved to see that the bleeding indeed seems to have stopped. He throws out the towels and washes his hands before handing Synyster a bunch of clean towels so that he can wash off the dried blood sticking to his face. "Good night," he simply says, and he's about to leave the bathroom when he feels someone clutching his wrist.
"Hey," Synyster starts, and Miya sees something strange in his eyes, "I'm sorry, 'kay?"
Miya shrugs and tries for a smile before heading directly to his hotel room, not at all in the mood for partying anymore.
---
Synyster's idea of jamming, this time, is apparently to send Miya soaring higher than he ever has.
All the alarm bells in Miya's mind go off when the Rev produces a plastic bag filled with white powder and starts cutting lines on a D'espairsRay CD as casually as if he were watering the plants. Of course, Miya's heard stories, so it doesn't come as that much of a surprise, but he didn't really expect it to happen right in front of his eyes, and he certainly never expected to be invited to join in. All he can think of is his acquaintance who got caught with meth and almost ruined his musical career in the process. Marijuana was already a big deal for Miya and he never considered going any further than that.
And then it occurs to him that no one in the room seems to be giving a fuck about what's happening around the coffee table, and he manages to relax a bit.
"Him too?" the Rev asks Synyster, pointing at Miya.
"Yeah, let him have a line. If you want, that is," Synyster adds to Miya, and the crooked grin he flashes him basically blows to smithereens any reserves he's had.
The Rev chuckles. "That'll be interesting."
The voice in Miya's head is still telling him he should get the hell out of there, but he somehow can't bring himself to do so. He watches the Rev prepare the cocaine into neat rows with a credit card, and he's fascinated and dying to know just how far exactly this fucking tour will take him. He suddenly imagines the horrible fit his manager would throw if he saw him now, waiting patiently for his line of coke like it were a cup of tea, and the thought is so wild, so crazy and so deliciously unreasonable that when the Rev cuts a straw into three pieces and hands him one, he knows he has to go through with this.
"You've never done coke before, right?" Synyster asks, and the Rev laughs loudly at that.
"Dude, Japan's way too fucking tight-assed for that." He's barely finished talking that the first line has vanished up his nose, and he pushes the CD case towards his bandmate.
"True. Mi's cool, though. He's got guts." Synyster inserts his own piece of the straw into one of his nostrils, pushes the other closed with his index and inhales deeply. "Your turn," he tells Miya, sliding the case in his direction.
Miya doesn't allow himself to think about it twice and imitates him. The feeling is strange, not particularly pleasant, and the inside of his nostril is a little dry and itchy after. He can't help but wiggle his nose a bit (the Rev is obviously very amused by that) before leaning back against the wall, waiting nervously. He's not even sure how the drug is supposed to affect him, and he hopes he hasn't just done something really stupid.
He feels Synyster squeeze his knee briefly under the table. "It'll be a fun ride."
---
Miya heads to Avenged Sevenfold's bus, taking along his main guitar and his vocalist. As soon as he steps in, he is offered a beer (or rather, a can is shoved into his hand before he even has time to refuse) and a cable so that he can plug his guitar in the Bogner amp.
"You guys wanna join in?" Shadows inquires while he and Tatsurou settle before the television screen, X-Box controllers in hand.
"Maybe later. I need to have my way with Mi's guitar first," Synyster says before stretching his hand out to take Miya's guitar. "Just go ahead and grab this one," he adds detachedly, motioning in the direction of his own guitar as he sits down on the couch with Miya's instrument on his lap.
Miya has to try his hardest to not smile like an idiot when he takes the Schecter, allowing himself a moment to admire it. It's beautiful yet sturdy-looking, and he is a little surprised at first by how heavy the neck feels in his hand. He moves the guitar slightly under the light to better see the glint of the silver stripes on its body, then looks at the inlays of the fretboard, smiling to himself while he examines the Avenged Sevenfold logo and the "Syn" spelled in Gothic lettering.
There he is, holding Synyster's signature model. He strums the strings one by one with his thumb, listening attentively to each note. The Schecter is perfectly tuned and Miya starts playing the chord sequence he's had in his head since morning.
"Man, it's been forever since I touched a seven-string," Synyster admits, but his lips arbor the same defiant smirk as usual. He clutches the neck of the black Dragonfly and improvises a melody to go along with Miya's chords. They play together for a moment and try to overpower each other the next, trading the lead and rhythm roles and having fun with divebombs and shred. There's something exciting, empowering even with watching his own fingers toying with the whammy bar of the Schecter, and Miya gets that same feeling when he looks at Synyster's hands running along the wooden neck of his Dragonfly.
He's been looking back and forth between their hands for a while when he unexpectedly catches Synyster's eyes staring straight into his - his heart skips a beat and he manages to get a terribly discordant sound out of the guitar.
"Sorry," Miya mumbles as he puts the instrument down to grab his can of beer and sip on it timidly. He's never been fond of the taste of alcohol, but the dryness in his throat is begging him to drink something.
"Good idea," Synyster says with a grin, then chugs his own beer.
---
"Jesus fucking Christ," Synyster mutters between his teeth, running a hand down his face. Miya can't help but grin at the sight and gives Synyster's erection a light squeeze before increasing both the pressure and the pace of his hand as he keeps caressing him through his jeans. He presses his lips on his neck, working his way down to the curve of his shoulder until he feels Synyster's hand turning his head in his direction.
"C'mere," he whispers, and Miya complies, pushing his lips to his in a heated kiss. Synyster's tongue darts into his mouth and Miya closes his lips around it gently when he pulls out, resuming the kiss immediately after having sucked on his bottom lip briefly. He feels Synyster's hands sliding under his shirt to stroke his chest and his sides and his back, and he moans through the kiss when one of Synyster's legs moves to press itself against his crotch, a wave of heat suddenly rushing through his body.
Synyster breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, and the next second, Miya finds himself on his back, pinned between Synyster's body and the mattress. He's much too heavy for him to do much but arch his back in both pleasure and anticipation and open his legs wider - so he does exactly that and wraps his legs around Synyster's body to increase the friction, thighs closed tight around his hips. Synyster has barely just started to rub his erection hard against Miya's, tearing a series of moans out of his throat, when a loud ringing suddenly fills the room, causing them both to tense in surprise.
The wake-up call. It's six in the morning.
"... You're supposed to get ready now, right?" Synyster asks, but Miya barely leaves him enough to time to end his question before pressing his mouth against his. He reaches blindly for the phone and pushes the receiver down the bedside table to stop the alarm. He'll eat at the airport, he decides, and he'll take a shower when he's back in Tokyo if he has to. His suitcase is mostly packed and he probably would've slept in, anyway, had Synyster not been with him.
The next second, however, he can feel Synyster's hand snaking inside his boxers and wrapping itself around his bare cock, and Miya's too busy focusing on the weight of his body on top of his and the sensation of his rough fingertips on his erection and the scrape of stubble on his face to give the slightest fuck about anything else.
---
"... So are you guys fucking?"
Miya almost stabs himself in the throat with his toothbrush when he hears the question. He leans down towards the sink to spit the excess foam out of his mouth before shooting a glare in Yukke's direction. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't think too hard. You know," he answers detachedly, staring at his own reflection while he runs the razor down his jawbone.
"... Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't. And I'm not fucking anyone, for the record," Miya quickly adds before starting to brush his teeth again, this time with an unusual vigor.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry then. It's just that I could've sworn you and Synyster had a thing going on."
There's a twinge of pain in Miya's gum when he clenches the handle of his toothbrush and gets a little too enthusiastic. "He's a talented guy and we get along fine," he manages despite the foam in his mouth. "I don't know why you think we're having sex."
"Uh-huh," Yukke says, rinsing the shaving cream off his razor under the tap. "So I suppose he asked me to lend him my card key in the middle of the night just to teach you some new riff or something?"
Miya now really wishes he hadn't been standing topless in front of a mirror to see how red both his face and chest instantly turned. Yukke would never let him live that one down now that he perfectly knew Synyster and he were together before he walked into their room the previous night - especially considering the state he'd found Miya in then.
"Well?" Yukke eggs him on, a smirk drawing itself on his lips. Obviously he's noticed the blush. He'd have to be blind not to.
Miya spits into the sink again, noticing a fine streak of blood in the toothpaste foam, and grabs a cup off the counter to rinse his mouth. "Fine. We're fucking. Happy now?"
"Not really. You never told me you were into guys?"
Is he? He's never really thought about it, nor does he really care to at the moment. Miya simply shrugs before drying his face with a towel and throwing it back on the rod carelessly.
"... Well?"
"I'm not 'into guys' or whatever. It's just him, I guess."
Yukke nods pensively and splashes some aftershave on before plugging his straightening iron into the wall socket and turning it on. He then briefly looks Miya in the eyes through the mirror. "... Do you like him?"
Miya shrugs again. "Tell me nobody else knows about it," he says, mostly in an attempt to change the subject.
Yukke chuckles. "Nah, they probably just think you're really into his guitars or something."
"Cool." That somehow doesn't make him feel any better, however, and he grabs the shaving cream and slathers his face with it, purposely avoiding to look at Yukke's eyes as he does so. Not a word is spoken while he shaves and Yukke straightens his bangs.
It's Yukke who finally breaks the silence. "... Is it really big?" he asks, and Miya could swear he's trying not to laugh.
He feels like screaming, but he somehow manages to control himself and instead settles for clocking Yukke with the can of shaving cream.
---
The sun is already high in the sky when Miya wakes up for the second time that day. The aspirins he gulped down after he was finally done puking his guts out earlier in the morning apparently did their trick - the throbbing pain in his head vanished somewhere along the line. He's suddenly aware that he's alone in the bus, and the first thought that crosses his mind is that he's probably late for soundcheck until he remembers that today is the first day off they've had in a while.
Which is the reason why he even allowed himself to party so hard the night before.
Miya sighs and lets his head fall back on the pillow. There's no rush and he still feels somewhat fuzzy from last night's overindulgences, so he closes his eyes, trying to go backwards through his memory. The realization that he's drawing some major blanks is a bit terrifying. He remembers throwing up for what felt like hours, Tatsurou rubbing his back patiently, and he also remembers the party pretty well - that is, up to the point where he was handed a glass of black beer. Everything in-between is a blur.
And yet, he can somehow perfectly recall Pantera's Walk playing at some point, the blinding flash of Yukke's camera, drinking something that tasted like licorice, someone's tongue in his mouth, the spicy scent of aftershave, the bright colors of ink, greens, oranges and blues...
He's dozing off again when the door opens, and the sound of footsteps inside the bus wakes him up.
"'Morning, Mi. Or 'afternoon, I guess." It's Synyster, and he's carrying a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. "Sorry about yesterday. Heard you got pretty sick," he says with an apologetic smile.
Miya rubs his eyes as he sits up. He's picked up "sorry" and "sick", and shakes his head, a long yawn overtaking him before he manages to say something.
"How're you feeling?" Synyster asks. He puts the box down on the table along with a Starbucks cup that Miya hadn't noticed.
"Okay," he answers, smiling tiredly. "Where's members...?"
"Tatsurou's at the mall or something. The others are prob'ly with him."
Miya catches Synyster glancing at his chest and he's suddenly very much aware of how shirtless he is. He feels ridiculously skinny and white and plain, and he's not even sure where his mind is getting this from, but for some reason it evokes the pressure of a well-defined chest against his own, large, strong shoulders and the tight hold of muscled arms around him.
It's the growl of his own stomach that brings him back to Earth.
"Have some," Synyster says, chuckling, and motions to the donut box and the coffee. "I got 'em for you."
Miya smiles at him, appreciating the gesture. "Thank." He decides to go for the coffee first - his throat is still dry and sore from all the puking and a hot drink definitely sounds like something he could use. He takes off the cap only to be met with a cloud of whipped cream and ground cinnamon, and the coffee itself is indecently sweet and warm and perfect, and it rolls down his throat like velvet.
He chuckles when he notices the "Brian" scribbled across the cup in felt pen as he puts it down before opening the donut box. He offers some to Synyster, but he turns down the offer with a slight wave of his hand. Miya ponders for a moment before electing the powdered cake first, taking a careful bite in case his stomach opposes. It doesn't, and he attacks the donut enthusiastically.
"I'll be on my way," Synyster says, getting up. "... You've got some sugar here," he adds with a grin, pointing to his own bottom lip, but Miya doesn't even have time to think about wiping it off before Synyster catches his chin between his thumb and index and leans in to lick the powder off his mouth. "See you around," he says with a wink, and he heads towards the front of the bus, leaving Miya to his half-eaten donut, mouth ajar.
---
Miya is so tired he can't even process the music, voices and the tinkling of glass as anything other than a loud ringing in his ears, and the dissonance of a language he barely knows all around him does nothing to spare his nerves. He's been in America for less than 48 hours and everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. The instruments they brought from Japan fucked off to the wrong fucking country, and the day he thought he'd spend recovering from the fifteen-hour flight has instead been spent running around a city he doesn't know to get his hands on replacements.
A headache is imminent, he knows it.
Leaning his elbow against the bar counter, Miya lets his head sink against the palm of his hand and closes his eyes. He can almost feel the glances the barmaid is throwing him, but he's confident that she won't approach him. In fact, he's certain nobody will. He's probably giving the worst first impression, but he's too exhausted to be bothered.
However, against all expectations, a friendly slap on the shoulder and a somewhat familiar voice suddenly pull him out of his own head.
"Hey, Miya! 'S been a while! How's it going?" Synyster settles down on the stool next to his, a beer in his hand and a large grin on his face. That wasn't Japanese he spoke just now and that's about the extent of what Miya understood. He must look quite confused, because Synyster promptly reformulates his question, detaching every syllable. "How are you?"
"I... good," Miya answers hesitantly. His English sounds completely broken even to his own ears and he feels what little confidence he had melting like snow in the sun. He doesn't even attempt to return the question and simply points at Synyster questioningly.
"Doing great. Not too jet-lagged?"
Miya tilts his head to the side, staring at him awkwardly.
"Jet-lagged. Like, tired? Because of the plane?" Synyster opens his arms wide to suggest the wings of an airplane.
"... Oh. Yes. Very."
"I'll get you a refill, you look like you need one," Synyster announces, a corner of his mouth curving upwards in a smile. He shouts something to the barmaid and, a minute later, she brings Miya a second, full glass of orange juice. "Cheers!"
Some beer spills into his drink when Synyster hits his pint of Guinness not-so-lightly against his glass. Miya braces himself in anticipation to the bitter taste of black beer as he gulps down a mouthful. What he isn't expecting, though, is vodka suddenly burning down his throat - and before he can control himself, he spits it back into the glass before choking hard, eyes watering.
Synyster pats his back helpfully, laughing. "Figured it'd perk you up!"
---
Miya wakes up suddenly, feeling disoriented. He apparently fell asleep without meaning to - the lights and the television are still on, and his eyes are dry due to the fact that he didn't even take the time to remove his contact lenses. He glances at the alarm clock: it's two in the morning, still early by musician standards, and Miya figures that Yukke is most likely still partying downstairs.
He's dozing off again when he hears the door open and close. "Welcome back," he mumbles in Japanese, not even bothering to raise the arm he's thrown over his eyes.
"Hey, it's me."
Miya's eyes snap open at the unexpected voice, but he lets his head fall back against the pillow when he recognizes Synyster, letting out a sigh of relief. "... Very scare," he mutters, rubbing his face.
"Sorry," Synyster says, visibly amused. "You alone in here?"
Miya glances up at him briefly through his half-lidded eyes. "... What?"
"Alone? Only Miya?"
"... Yes. Only Miya," he repeats affirmatively.
"Good."
He hears Synyster fiddle with the safety chain and he wonders how he managed to unlock the door- he and Yukke are supposedly the only persons in possession of the card keys to their room- but then he doesn't really care anymore because Synyster's body is lying on top of his own.
"Thanks for your help earlier," he whispers into his ear. Miya merely grunts as an answer and Synyster chuckles, his breath tickling the skin of his neck. "You still pissed off?"
"Why... Matt... fight?" Miya manages, his brain still much too fuzzy to think in a foreign language.
"'Cause he called you something bad."
"I know, but..." Miya concentrates for a moment, but eventually has to give up most of his arguments. English is obviously not happening tonight. "No need," he finally lets out with a sigh.
Synyster shrugs. "It pissed me off."
Miya opens his mouth to say something, but then Synyster's tongue darts into his ear teasingly and he can't think anymore. His lips move along his jaw until they reach his own and Synyster kisses him hard, his mouth still tasting of beer and cigarettes. Miya instinctively closes his thighs around his hips as he kisses him back hungrily, running his hands through his hair and down his back. He slides his fingers under the hem of his shirt, moving them up to his shoulder blades, then down his spine to his ass, feeling the strong muscles ripple under his caresses.
Synyster's hands snake between their bodies to tug Miya's t-shirt up and expose his whole chest, and then he's all over it - he first trails his tongue along his collarbone and tugs at a nipple with his teeth before kissing his way down to his belly and sucking on a hipbone. Miya's already hard when Synyster slides a hand under the elastic waistband of his boxers and wraps it around his cock, and it doesn't take much more than a few strokes for it to become completely stiff. He pulls it out and slides his mouth down the length before running his tongue along the underside, and a small whimper of indignation escapes Miya's lips when Synyster starts flicking his tongue at the head teasingly.
"Impatient, are we?" he says with a crooked grin, tightly wrapping his thumb and his forefinger around the base of his cock and pumping it a couple of times. He then finally moves his lips down the head and starts sucking on it slowly, agonizingly so, causing Miya to squirm a bit and whimper feebly. However, it's a whole flow of moans that pours out of his mouth when Synyster finally takes his whole erection into his mouth to suck him hard and fast, lips enclosing it tight.
"... Ikisou," Miya mutters between his teeth minutes later, and Synyster's apparently picked up the meaning somewhere along the line because he slows down despite Miya's indignant plea. He doesn't last that much longer, but it's still enough to push him over the edge with much more intensity than it would have otherwise, and it's a whole fucking galaxy that Miya sees when he comes inside Synyster's mouth.
His bones still feel like jelly when Synyster moves to kiss him. "'Later," he whispers between their mouths and promptly exits the room, leaving Miya still trying to catch his breath. His orgasm has completely drained him and he dozes off again in a matter of seconds, wondering very briefly if it was all a very vivid wet dream.
He wakes up suddenly when something soft hits him in the face. "Nngh!" Miya objects, slapping the pillow off his face and off the bed.
"Your dick's hanging out, Guccha," Yukke says with a knowing smirk, and Miya feels himself turn beet red, wishing he could disappear.
---
Miya heads backstage as soon as he's done with the interview, but it's kept him busy for longer than he expected and he only makes it to the middle of Avenged Sevenfold's set. He finds a nice spot on top of a big crate, out of the staff's way and with a clear view of the performance, and he's on the right side of the stage, something about which he's much more excited than he really should be.
It's a great performance - the band is at the top of its shape, the crowd is electrified and Synyster is hot. Fucking hot. It's one thing to see him play the guitar while they're just the two of them sprawled on the couch, not caring all that much if what they play sounds like crap or not, and another to see him perform for a few thousands of people, oozing with confidence and poise and looking like he owns the whole place. Miya never gets sick of watching his fingers running up and down the frets, his muscles moving under his tattoos when he raises his arms to get the audience even more worked up than it already is, the sweat rolling down his temples, the way his long, strong legs carry him across the stage or the playful glint in his eyes when he runs over to Zacky's side with apparently the sole intention of disrupting his concentration.
Synyster is going back to his usual position when he spots him watching the show and his lips curl up, and Miya feels the irrational urge to laugh - maybe because that smile is for him and not any of the three thousand something people there. He gets another smile and a high five when Synyster steps off stage minutes later before taking his Fedora off and dropping it on Miya's head instead. "Let's jam again tonight," he says, but the way he looks at him makes it clear that what's really on his mind is entirely different.
---
"I got a gift for you ladies," Johnny announces as he steps into the bus. He flops down on the couch and takes not a cigarette, but a joint out of his pack.
"Sweet!" Synyster exclaims, grinning wide.
Shadows, curious, turns away from the screen briefly to glance above his shoulder and his second of inattention is all Scorpion needs to KO Baraka. "Motherfucker!" Shadows shouts at the television while the Tarkatan's decapitated head flies across the screen, followed by an arc of blood.
"Mother?" Tatsurou repeats, puzzled, his triumphant fist lingering in the air.
"Like, someone who fucks his own mother," Shadows explains, chuckling at Tatsurou's confusion. "It's an insult. Like 'asshole'. Or 'son of a bitch', or 'dick' or something, you know?"
Miya is vaguely aware that Tatsurou is turning to him for help, but his attention is more focused on the marijuana cigarette as it's being passed from Johnny to Synyster. He watches Synyster insert the stick between his lips to take a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling it slowly, staring back at Miya all along.
"Good shit," he whispers to his attention and leans forward to hand him the joint. Miya debates with himself for barely a fraction of a second before stretching out his hand to take it.
"So 'motherfucker' is like, a very bad word," Shadows tries again. "Get it now?"
"Ah!" Tatsurou exclaims as comprehension finally seems to dawn on him. "Nonoshiri ka?"
"Sou kamo ne," Miya answers absent-mindedly, concentrating on the alien taste of the smoke he's just breathed out.
"Want some?" Shadows asks Tatsurou after taking a long drag.
"No. No smoke, motherfucker," Tatsurou replies and the three Americans burst out laughing. "Other? Motherfucker toka?"
"I personally like 'cocksucker'," Synyster suggests.
"If it's a girl," Johnny starts, "you can call her a bitch or a whore."
"Or a slut."
"Or a cunt."
"And add 'fucking' before. Like, 'you fucking cunt'. Or 'you motherfucking asshole'."
Miya snickers loudly when he notices that Tatsurou is mouthing all the suggestions to himself, obviously in an attempt to remember them. "Please don't call anyone that while we're here," he warns him jokingly.
"You fucking motherfucker," Tatsurou promptly answers, and Miya flips him off. "Cocksucker," he replies, completely clueless as to what exactly he's just called Tatsurou.
"Dude, I love that," Synyster comments, laughing. "They're fucking naturals."
"Man, I know. Hey, so what d'you guys say in Japanese?" Shadows asks, turning to Miya and Tatsurou. The two of them look at each other pensively.
"'Kusotare'?" Tatsurou tries first.
"'Chikushoume'," Miya adds after a few seconds of thought.
Synyster chuckles and raises his chin at Johnny defiantly. "Give me that joint, ksotaree."
"Pssh, come and get it, fucking chook- chookshoo- whatever the fuck it was."
Miya luckily manages to swallow his sip of beer before he bursts out laughing and looks at Tatsurou - right in time to catch his horrified expression as he finally seems to understand just what they had been handing each other all along.
---
Miya gasps when Synyster pushes him down on the bed harshly and moves between his legs, towering over him. They're both high as kites again and everything is going a little too fast for Miya's mind to keep track of it all, but he doesn't exactly mind it, either. The feeling of both his brain and his heart racing is an exhilarating one, and all of his sensations flicker through his mind, brief although abnormally crisp - it's a whirlwind of lips and teeth and callused fingertips, the burn of stubble scraping at his face and neck, the taste of cigarette on Synyster's tongue, the warmth of his body against his and the sound of hard breathing mixed with the music playing in the room.
Synyster's rough- very rough, even- and Miya's not sure if it's the pot he smoked earlier or what, but it's driving him absolutely crazy with lust and he's never felt so aroused in his whole fucking life. A loud moan escapes his mouth when Synyster nips at his bottom lip with his teeth and Miya moves a leg up to rub at his crotch, his hands almost moving of their own accord to get his t-shirt off him. Synyster complies, a grin drawing itself on his lips, and takes it off before dropping it to the floor. It's quite a show - he's all muscles and smooth skin and tattoos, and Miya never gets tired of looking at him.
Then it's Synyster's turn to declare war against Miya's clothes. He unfastens his jeans, tugs at them hard and Miya finds himself half-naked a second later. "Your dick's really cute," Synyster says with a smirk, and Miya kind of really wishes he hadn't understood that, but he's already forgotten about being embarrassed when he feels his cock being grasped tightly. Synyster starts pumping it and Miya simply enjoys the attention for a moment before he thinks of returning the favor, but he barely has time to stretch a hand out towards the front of his pants when he's suddenly flipped over onto his belly like a pancake. "You're gonna like this," Synyster then whispers into his ear and Miya has no idea what he just said, but he knows what's coming next. Synyster trails his tongue down the nape of his neck before moving away from him, and Miya listens to him search for something, daring only then to move on his hands and knees.
He's back on the bed quickly enough and Miya bites his bottom lip when he feels fingers slide into him. Synyster prepares him roughly, obviously impatient to move on to more serious things. Miya's not even sure he's really willing to go that far, but he's perfectly aware that he wouldn't be able to free himself from his hold anyway now that Synyster's apparently decided to have his way with him - and, much to his own surprise, the mere thought causes his cock to twitch in anticipation.
He's just getting used to the feeling of Synyster's fingers fucking him when he pulls out. He hears the sound of his pants being unzipped and throws a glance over his shoulder to see him roll a condom down his erection (for which he is thankful, because he's way too far gone to have thought of it himself). "Ready?" Synyster asks him with an ominous smirk, gripping his hips.
Miya nods a bit before turning to rest his head on his forearms. "Yeah," he manages despite the dryness in his throat and he instinctively clutches the bed covers when he feels Synyster pushing the whole length of his cock into him. It's weird and a little uncomfortable at first, but then he starts moving back and forth and Miya has no idea what's wrong with him, but it feels fucking good - so unexpectedly, unbelievably and overwhelmingly good that he figures it must be the drug, and it just keeps getting better and better as Synyster starts thrusting harder and harder into his ass. Synyster suddenly leans against his shoulders minutes later, Miya's upper body crumbling under the weight and his face landing onto the pillow, and he starts fucking him even faster while he keeps him pinned down and he's way too heavy for Miya to do anything but turn his head to the side so that he can still manage to breathe. Miya can hear him grunt loudly in pleasure behind him and he's vaguely aware that he's being really fucking loud as well and that his own cock is oozing insane amounts of pre-come and it suddenly occurs to him that the CD that's playing is his own band and he cries out into the pillow and he comes so hard everything in his mind goes white.
---
It's cold outside, but Miya is starting to feel really hot. He's put on a few extra layers earlier in order to brave the Illinois weather when he decided to make the most of the sunny, not unbearably cold afternoon and headed outside. Synyster has been showing him some boxing techniques despite Miya's utter lack of potential and aptitude for it, but he doesn't seem to mind the absence of a challenge. Miya doesn't complain either - it's a lot of fun, and if anything, it gives him a reason to not shut himself in the bus all day long.
They've been practicing jabs and hooks and uppercuts for a while now, and it's starting to feel like a furnace under all of Miya's clothes. He unzips his winter coat to uncover his neck in an attempt to cool down a little.
"I'm pretty hot too," Synyster comments, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
"I," Miya starts after he's managed to catch his breath, but he can't remember the word he's looking for to save his life, so he just gestures from himself to Synyster. "Judo?"
That would be his part of the deal. Synyster asked him to teach him judo months ago when they first met in Japan, and Miya had kind of hoped he would forget, but he mentioned it again after the beginning of the tour and there seems to be no escaping it.
"That'd be awesome!" comes Synyster's enthusiastic answer and he takes off the punch pads before throwing them in the snow a little further away from them.
Miya's not too sure how he's going to manage - he only remembers bits and pieces from the classes he took in middle school, and he actually had to look up judo techniques on the Internet to refresh his memory a little. He can only hope he won't come across as too incompetent. He decides to start with something simple, both for Synyster's and his own sake.
Nonetheless, he's a lousy teacher - that, or Synyster is a little too good at throwing people around, he can't quite tell. Either way, he soon can't keep up with his pupil and ends up being the one constantly thrown into the snow, and it seems he's spending more time getting back up to his feet and brushing the snow off his clothes than teaching Synyster anything.
"Yatta!" Miya grins wide when he finally succeeds in tripping Synyster, but he immediately loses his smile - something is tugging hard at his coat and he feels himself falling forward. He realizes too late that Synyster has clutched his coat in his fall, sending the two of them tumbling down and sinking into the snow in a pile of disorderly limbs.
"S-Sorr-" Miya starts, getting off of Synyster hurriedly, but a projectile then hits the side of his head, causing him to end up sprawled on the snow again. There's snow in his hair and on his face, and Miya recognizes Satochi's voice when a triumphant yell resounds from not too far away.
"Dude, you okay?" Synyster asks, sounding highly amused.
"... Y-Yes," Miya answers, still seeing stars. He watches him jump to his feet and gather some snow in his hands before running towards Satochi.
Miya lies in the snow for a moment, staring up at the blue sky until he's managed to stop grinning like an idiot, then finally brings himself to get up and join the snowball fight.
---
Save for Zacky, who managed to get hammered unusually fast and passed out in the bunk bed above them, it's just Miya and Synyster in the bus this time. They've both been lying on their backs for a while, side to side, sharing the earphones of a stray mp3 player. Miya keeps going back and forth between his cigarettes and the joint Synyster has been handing him, despite being high as fuck already, but the haze in his head doesn't feel so strange anymore and it's exactly what he needs to rid himself of the stress that's been building up.
"Last puff," Synyster says, propping himself on one elbow and inserting the blunt between his teeth. Miya's eyes widen in surprise when he unexpectedly towers over him and leans down closer, so close in fact that he can clearly see the faint smudges of kohl still staining his lids, and he has no idea what he's supposed to do. He just stays there, staring at Synyster staring back at him until their mouths almost touch - but they don't, and Miya instead feels the scraping heat of a thin trail of smoke being blown directly into his throat.
He can't help it - he chokes and coughs hard for a while, barely making out a mocking "what were you expecting, a kiss?" from Synyster before he finally manages to control himself enough to grab one of the beer cans stuck between the wall and the mattress and drink a long gulp from it.
Synyster still looks amused when he inhales the last puff of smoke from the blunt and butts it in the ashtray - but his eyes are perfectly serious again when he blows out the smoke again in Miya's mouth, his lips firmly sealed on his.
---
Miya silently ponders the choices the vending machine has to offer, but he's feeling blatantly uninspired. He doesn't feel like having soda or water or even Gatorade - he actually doesn't feel like having anything at all, but he figures he might as well while he's here, and he decides to go for the coffee machine instead.
Opening his wallet, Miya realizes he barely has enough American currency left for a regular coffee, but it's not really a problem now. He shoves his wallet and then his hands into the pocket of his jeans and heaves a sigh while the machine works on his drink. He's running out of time and he can't really afford to waste it around by himself, but he's tired as hell, his nerves are about to give way and he really needs a moment to regroup. He's always hated crying in front of people.
The machine emits a beeping noise and the words "enjoy your coffee" scroll across the small screen. Miya struggles to retrieve the cup without spilling any coffee on his hand and scalding himself in the process, but he eventually manages to take it out. The paper cup is ridiculously small, and when he takes a sip, the coffee turns out to be bitter as fuck and absolutely foul-tasting.
He doesn't mind though. He doesn't give a flying fuck about it, actually.
Miya takes a look at his watch, sipping on his coffee absentmindedly. He has five minutes to wrap things up before leaving, so he turns around and almost drops his cup in surprise when he almost bumps into someone.
"Bikkuri shita," he mumbles to himself, his free hand pressed on his heart.
He's pretty sure Synyster would have laughed at him under any other circumstances, but he doesn't this time. "Sorry, man, didn't mean to scare ya." He's grinning, but it's not quite as usual. "Boss told me you'd be here."
"Yeah. I wanted coffee." Miya hands Synyster his cup. "You want?"
"Nah, thanks. Is it any good?" he asks warily.
"... No," Miya answers, and remembering an expression Zacky taught him, adds, "It taste like ass."
Synyster chuckles. "Figured."
Neither of them says anything for several long seconds after that. Miya eventually opens his mouth to say something- anything, really- just to kill the silence that has settled between them, but before he has a chance to, Synyster pulls him into a tight hug. "I'mma miss you, man," he says quietly, patting Miya's back before letting go. Miya's previous efforts to calm himself are reduced to naught at that and he has to blink back tears before he finally manages to speak:
"See you in Japan, right?"
Synyster gives him a slight smile and Miya notices an unusual glint in his eyes. "For sure."