black leather - Sugizo x Heath | One-Shot
My first attempt ever to write X JAPAN. It's probably totally ooc but oh well... dedicated to my dear kurenai_tenshi, since we agreed that there is not enough good X yaoi on LJ and we need to do something about it.
„30 minutes left guys. Watch the clock right? Watch the clock.“
„I thought I was paying you to watch the clock...?“
„Right Yoshiki-san. Sorry. I’ll watch the clock.“
Amazing how it only takes Yoshiki five seconds to make half the people in the room disappear for mysterious reasons. Not that he cares much. He’s listening to old ACDC tracks on his iPhone, wriggling his toes in sync with ‘Back in Black’. His feet are still bare, he’s wearing the top of his stage outfit, however the pants are missing. Instead he’s still in the slowly worn out and stone washed loose fitting jeans that he arrived in earlier. He says it’s too hot here in Taiwan. He’ll keep the lose clothes on as long as possible. He’s only wearing the tight top already cos he had to put it on before the make-up lady took care of his hair. By the way, did anyone know that that lovely make-up lady is engaged now?
Nobody really cares about Heaths’ lame tries of making excuses and then changing the topic a little too abruptly. He’d never been really good with it. He’s a kind guy. The kind of guy who’d rather say nothing at all, than to lie. He can however be very blunt with the truth. Last victim of Heaths’ truth fetish was Toshi in the morning, after the bassist commented on his new sunglasses as “looking like black fish tanks tied to your head”. He’s genuine. But honest. A charming guy really.
“Heath?”
No response.
“Heath?”
No response.
“HEATH!!!”
The bassist jumps and meets leader-samas death glare. Slowly he takes the earphones out.
“Yes?”
“We have 30 minutes. You heard that right?”
“Yeah?”
“Aren’t you gonna get changed?”
He looks down at his worn out jeans.
“In a minute. It’s just warm you know?”
“Warm, huh?”
Yoshiki looks around as if searching for a thermometer.
“It is warm I guess. No you’re right, it’s warm.”
Man, he’s lucky today.
“It’s cooler by the stage sides you know?”
“Ah yeah. Why don’t you guys go ahead, I’ll quickly get changed and follow you then?”
“Sounds good.”
Very lucky indeed.
He doesn’t yet realize the black eyes looking at him, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Proper sunglasses. Not a fish tank tied to the head.
There’s something weird about Heath just before a live. Something odd, no one ever noticed but him. The silent wish of the bassist to be left alone in the dressing room for a minimum of five minutes before every live. Just before they’re about to go on stage. Maybe he prays before? Does something naughty? The quiet voyeur subconsciously licks his lips and is then shoved outside by an eager Yoshiki, who’s obviously drawn to the coolness by the stage. Toshi and Pata follow close by.
And Heath is alone.
All alone in the dressing room.
He waits for another minute, just in case somebody forgot something and wants to come and get it. Everything remains quiet and eventually he gets up, strides to the door and gazes out for a moment, before he shuts it and hastily turns the key in the lock. He hears a fading click sound, maybe not as loud and fierce as it should have been. However he doesn’t care to check whether the door really got locked.
After all he’s alone now.
He moves to the hallstand, where the rest of his outfit is hanging innocently. He glares at the black leather and takes a deep breath.
“It’s just you and me now, bitch.”
He takes the pants off the hook and examines them for a little while, something clearly going through his head. Well. Same procedure as every night, right? He’ll survive somehow.
With a small cluttering noise his jeans drop down, the belt falling heavier than the fabric and he pauses for an instant, listening if anyone might have heard that. He’s standing with his back facing the door and he doesn’t want to imagine the scenario he would be giving to anybody coming in right now. Bare backside showing off nicely. It’s not like he needs to be ashamed for his semi-nakedness. But still, he appreciates a little privacy. Again he glares at the leather pants.
The first part is easy. Getting in up till the knees is no big deal really, they’re low cut and widen around the ankles. He’s fine so far, skinny calves and all. Then however… then comes the difficult part. He takes another deep breath, holds it and pulls. Mid-thigh. Not bad. Not bad at all. It’s the first try after all. He smiles smugly to himself, obviously satisfied. Maybe it really is his lucky day.
He wiggles his hips a little, incidentally shaking the small, delicate butt that even men in their early twenties envy him for. He’s getting there. Slowly but he’s getting there. He wiggles a little more, shakes a little more and YES! the crotch is covered. His behind not yet completely, his hip bones not at all, but the crotch is safe. He blows a bang of hair off his face, concentrating. The last bit is the worst. He knows what he’s talking about. He fights with this leather covered nemesis almost every night.
Again he stands still for a minute, even holding his breath. He can’t hear any steps and he decides for the last step of desperation he could possibly take, praying that no one will enter the room now.
By the stage outside, a certain somebody is obviously getting bored. After some minutes of senseless chit-chat with staff members and Pata, he decides he wants to find more interesting things to do and strolls off, back towards the dressing rooms. Surprised he finds the door closed and blinks once or twice at the doorknob. Not only is the closed door irritating, the noises from inside are even weirder. Regular banging, silently, rather tapping but heavier than that. During a small pause, he hears heavy breathing. Immediately he raises his eyebrows, perv-detector in his head going off. Rhythmic tapping? Heavy breathing? So he IS doing something naughty in there.
Carefully he turns the doorknob, glad to find the door unlocked, even though he has to push a little harder. Seems like Heath had tried to lock the door but failed miserably. He makes sure to remain quiet and peeks through the slit to see… this.
A bassist, clearly marked with desperation, hopping around the room, trying to pull his pants up.
He’s expected quite a show but nothing like that to be honest.
Obviously Heath hasn’t noticed him, so he leans in the doorframe and watches the scene. His arms are loosely folded in front of his chest and no, there’s no way he could hide that very amused smirk playing on his lips.
Heath is lost in his own world, hopping and cursing under his breath, calling the pants all various different colorful names. He never knew that his repertoire of swear words was this big, but after all, Heath usually never bothered to remotely tell his opinion. So he’d rather talk to his leather pants openly, huh?
He hops and hops and hops and turns and hops once more and stops dead on his tracks, nearly suffering from a heart attack when finally he sees the person standing in the doorframe.
“Sugizo!”
“Hi.”
Fucking devil, get out!
“That was probably the best performance I’ve seen from you so far.”
He feels blood rushing up his neck right into his cheeks and he’s sure his ears have turned all red. Luckily they’re not really visible under the thick, visual kei styled mob of mid brown hair. He did lock the door right? For a second he ponders whether he knows any cases of dementia in the early forties, however Sugizo won’t give him a chance to think much.
The guitarist has left his spot by the door and is now casually strolling towards him, hands stuck in the pockets of the - far more loosely sitting - black pants.
“Don’t care to answer?”
“Mind leaving again?”
“Yes.”
He knew it. Why even bother asking?
“You know… I’ve always wondered how you actually get into those pants.”
He doesn’t like the tone that his voice carries. It sounds somewhat dangerous. Unusually dangerous. The kind of dangerous that only shows in Sugizos voice when he’s interested in something forbidden. Something he simply shouldn’t be interested in. Some inner urge tells him to back off a little, as the guitarist draws closer on him, but he doesn’t give in. He stands still, silently thanking heavens that at least his crotch isn’t visible anymore. Sugizo is coming too close for his liking.
Indeed the other man only stops a couple of centimeters away from him. He’d just have to reach out his index finger and he’d touch his chest. So close. So very close he can smell the heavy aftershave, mixed with hairspray and a certain scent that only Sugizo seems to carry. Heath imagines his bare skin smelling like that and it takes some effort to oppress the shiver that wants to run down his spine.
“Ever tried Vaseline?”
Judging from the look in Sugizos eyes, Heath ponders whether the guitarist would rather use Vaseline for something else here. And now he does shiver visibly. Sugizos smirk grows.
“I thought you were warm.”
“I am.”
Hot in fact. And he could probably feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“Then why the shiver?”
“You’re close.”
Dumbass. Learn to lie for gods sake!
“I make you shiver?”
He keeps his mouth shut and looks straight back at the guitarist.
“Huh, that’s perfect. I imagined making you shiver before.”
His cheeks are burning. He knows that Sugizo can see it, judging from the amused twinkle in his eyes, barely visible because it’s well hidden behind that danger that lures into these deep black orbs. He’s close. Just too close. So close he can feel the hot breath on his face, causing goosebumbs on his bare arms, running all down his belly.
“You sure you’re not cold?”
“Yes?”
“Hm.”
He’s getting even closer and slowly it’s dawning on Heath that he couldn’t move now, even if he’d wanted to. He’s frozen to the spot. Like a deer caught in the headlights.
He jerks a little as he feels long, rough fingertips stroking lazily over his left hipbone, moving further slowly. Straight towards his abdomen. Gliding over bare skin. And silently Sugizo is reassured that this skin is just as smooth as it looks. Until - when dipping a little lower - he finds a barely noticeable trail of stubble. Well well… someone’s very eager about body hygiene and waxing here.
“As little resistance as possible, huh?”
Knock it off, bastard.
So now Sugizo knows that he’s shaved down there. Maybe not his lucky day after all.
“There’s a trick you know?”
He’s leaning in even closer, his lips nearly touching the sensitive ear. His voice is barely a whisper and again a shiver runs down his entire body. This is getting too close. This is getting unhealthy here.
“You just have to relax every muscle.”
Relax? Haha… funny.
“Take your mind off it and think of something else.”
Of what? Those lush lips that are so close to his own? That heavy cologne that he can smell even better now and that makes his head spin? The soft fabric of the black satin shirt against his own chest?
“Here, let me help.”
This could be his last chance to get out of here.
He ignores it.
It’s just a split second, not even enough time to grasp one clear thought. He feels those lips on his own, his heart is racing in his chest and instantly the pants are forgotten. The kiss is soft, yet it feels almost painfully heavy on his lips. Painfully dangerous, painfully forbidden and therefore painfully good. His hands move up mechanically, resting on the silk covered chest before him but he doesn’t show any sign of wanting to push the other man away. His mind is totally blown out, his thoughts somewhere dim in the back of his head. This is not about thinking. This is about feeling, about taking an opportunity. This is about doing what he’d never imagine to do. And yet he’s here now. He’s here, his eyes closed and he willingly parts his lips to feel Sugizos tongue slip past.
After the first tension, he starts to relax.
He leans into the kiss, shifting a little closer even, his hands still resting on the silk. He imagines the silk gone and castigates this thought instantly. Not here. Not now. Never probably. For his own good. Yet he feels himself getting lost in this kiss, surrounded by this alluring scent.
Until he feels the smirk against his lips.
A short but forceful yank.
And a surprised gasp.
“There you go.”
Smugly Sugizo buttons the pants up and pulls the zipper. He’s even so kind to close the two belts, hanging loosely around the slim hips.
“It’s a good thing we’ve done that now.”
Heaths’ mind is still in a haze and somehow he hears those words in a blur.
“Before that pants would’ve become any tighter.”
He springs back to life when he feels those lips again, this time just giving a chaste kiss on his heated cheek.
The guitarist smiles innocently and Heath wants to scratch his face for it.
“See you at the stage, huh?”
And he’s gone.
Leaving a flushed, hot and confused Heath behind who can do nothing but stare at the open door. That really did happen, right? It takes him a second… two… three…four… maybe five… then he cracks a small, barely visible smile. He checks his hairstyle in the mirror, checks that the pants are really buttoned up and quietly curses Sugizo for being such a smug bastard, before he leaves the dressing room himself. He's gonna pay for this. He'll make sure of it.
„30 minutes left guys. Watch the clock right? Watch the clock.“
„I thought I was paying you to watch the clock...?“
„Right Yoshiki-san. Sorry. I’ll watch the clock.“
Amazing how it only takes Yoshiki five seconds to make half the people in the room disappear for mysterious reasons. Not that he cares much. He’s listening to old ACDC tracks on his iPhone, wriggling his toes in sync with ‘Back in Black’. His feet are still bare, he’s wearing the top of his stage outfit, however the pants are missing. Instead he’s still in the slowly worn out and stone washed loose fitting jeans that he arrived in earlier. He says it’s too hot here in Taiwan. He’ll keep the lose clothes on as long as possible. He’s only wearing the tight top already cos he had to put it on before the make-up lady took care of his hair. By the way, did anyone know that that lovely make-up lady is engaged now?
Nobody really cares about Heaths’ lame tries of making excuses and then changing the topic a little too abruptly. He’d never been really good with it. He’s a kind guy. The kind of guy who’d rather say nothing at all, than to lie. He can however be very blunt with the truth. Last victim of Heaths’ truth fetish was Toshi in the morning, after the bassist commented on his new sunglasses as “looking like black fish tanks tied to your head”. He’s genuine. But honest. A charming guy really.
“Heath?”
No response.
“Heath?”
No response.
“HEATH!!!”
The bassist jumps and meets leader-samas death glare. Slowly he takes the earphones out.
“Yes?”
“We have 30 minutes. You heard that right?”
“Yeah?”
“Aren’t you gonna get changed?”
He looks down at his worn out jeans.
“In a minute. It’s just warm you know?”
“Warm, huh?”
Yoshiki looks around as if searching for a thermometer.
“It is warm I guess. No you’re right, it’s warm.”
Man, he’s lucky today.
“It’s cooler by the stage sides you know?”
“Ah yeah. Why don’t you guys go ahead, I’ll quickly get changed and follow you then?”
“Sounds good.”
Very lucky indeed.
He doesn’t yet realize the black eyes looking at him, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Proper sunglasses. Not a fish tank tied to the head.
There’s something weird about Heath just before a live. Something odd, no one ever noticed but him. The silent wish of the bassist to be left alone in the dressing room for a minimum of five minutes before every live. Just before they’re about to go on stage. Maybe he prays before? Does something naughty? The quiet voyeur subconsciously licks his lips and is then shoved outside by an eager Yoshiki, who’s obviously drawn to the coolness by the stage. Toshi and Pata follow close by.
And Heath is alone.
All alone in the dressing room.
He waits for another minute, just in case somebody forgot something and wants to come and get it. Everything remains quiet and eventually he gets up, strides to the door and gazes out for a moment, before he shuts it and hastily turns the key in the lock. He hears a fading click sound, maybe not as loud and fierce as it should have been. However he doesn’t care to check whether the door really got locked.
After all he’s alone now.
He moves to the hallstand, where the rest of his outfit is hanging innocently. He glares at the black leather and takes a deep breath.
“It’s just you and me now, bitch.”
He takes the pants off the hook and examines them for a little while, something clearly going through his head. Well. Same procedure as every night, right? He’ll survive somehow.
With a small cluttering noise his jeans drop down, the belt falling heavier than the fabric and he pauses for an instant, listening if anyone might have heard that. He’s standing with his back facing the door and he doesn’t want to imagine the scenario he would be giving to anybody coming in right now. Bare backside showing off nicely. It’s not like he needs to be ashamed for his semi-nakedness. But still, he appreciates a little privacy. Again he glares at the leather pants.
The first part is easy. Getting in up till the knees is no big deal really, they’re low cut and widen around the ankles. He’s fine so far, skinny calves and all. Then however… then comes the difficult part. He takes another deep breath, holds it and pulls. Mid-thigh. Not bad. Not bad at all. It’s the first try after all. He smiles smugly to himself, obviously satisfied. Maybe it really is his lucky day.
He wiggles his hips a little, incidentally shaking the small, delicate butt that even men in their early twenties envy him for. He’s getting there. Slowly but he’s getting there. He wiggles a little more, shakes a little more and YES! the crotch is covered. His behind not yet completely, his hip bones not at all, but the crotch is safe. He blows a bang of hair off his face, concentrating. The last bit is the worst. He knows what he’s talking about. He fights with this leather covered nemesis almost every night.
Again he stands still for a minute, even holding his breath. He can’t hear any steps and he decides for the last step of desperation he could possibly take, praying that no one will enter the room now.
By the stage outside, a certain somebody is obviously getting bored. After some minutes of senseless chit-chat with staff members and Pata, he decides he wants to find more interesting things to do and strolls off, back towards the dressing rooms. Surprised he finds the door closed and blinks once or twice at the doorknob. Not only is the closed door irritating, the noises from inside are even weirder. Regular banging, silently, rather tapping but heavier than that. During a small pause, he hears heavy breathing. Immediately he raises his eyebrows, perv-detector in his head going off. Rhythmic tapping? Heavy breathing? So he IS doing something naughty in there.
Carefully he turns the doorknob, glad to find the door unlocked, even though he has to push a little harder. Seems like Heath had tried to lock the door but failed miserably. He makes sure to remain quiet and peeks through the slit to see… this.
A bassist, clearly marked with desperation, hopping around the room, trying to pull his pants up.
He’s expected quite a show but nothing like that to be honest.
Obviously Heath hasn’t noticed him, so he leans in the doorframe and watches the scene. His arms are loosely folded in front of his chest and no, there’s no way he could hide that very amused smirk playing on his lips.
Heath is lost in his own world, hopping and cursing under his breath, calling the pants all various different colorful names. He never knew that his repertoire of swear words was this big, but after all, Heath usually never bothered to remotely tell his opinion. So he’d rather talk to his leather pants openly, huh?
He hops and hops and hops and turns and hops once more and stops dead on his tracks, nearly suffering from a heart attack when finally he sees the person standing in the doorframe.
“Sugizo!”
“Hi.”
Fucking devil, get out!
“That was probably the best performance I’ve seen from you so far.”
He feels blood rushing up his neck right into his cheeks and he’s sure his ears have turned all red. Luckily they’re not really visible under the thick, visual kei styled mob of mid brown hair. He did lock the door right? For a second he ponders whether he knows any cases of dementia in the early forties, however Sugizo won’t give him a chance to think much.
The guitarist has left his spot by the door and is now casually strolling towards him, hands stuck in the pockets of the - far more loosely sitting - black pants.
“Don’t care to answer?”
“Mind leaving again?”
“Yes.”
He knew it. Why even bother asking?
“You know… I’ve always wondered how you actually get into those pants.”
He doesn’t like the tone that his voice carries. It sounds somewhat dangerous. Unusually dangerous. The kind of dangerous that only shows in Sugizos voice when he’s interested in something forbidden. Something he simply shouldn’t be interested in. Some inner urge tells him to back off a little, as the guitarist draws closer on him, but he doesn’t give in. He stands still, silently thanking heavens that at least his crotch isn’t visible anymore. Sugizo is coming too close for his liking.
Indeed the other man only stops a couple of centimeters away from him. He’d just have to reach out his index finger and he’d touch his chest. So close. So very close he can smell the heavy aftershave, mixed with hairspray and a certain scent that only Sugizo seems to carry. Heath imagines his bare skin smelling like that and it takes some effort to oppress the shiver that wants to run down his spine.
“Ever tried Vaseline?”
Judging from the look in Sugizos eyes, Heath ponders whether the guitarist would rather use Vaseline for something else here. And now he does shiver visibly. Sugizos smirk grows.
“I thought you were warm.”
“I am.”
Hot in fact. And he could probably feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“Then why the shiver?”
“You’re close.”
Dumbass. Learn to lie for gods sake!
“I make you shiver?”
He keeps his mouth shut and looks straight back at the guitarist.
“Huh, that’s perfect. I imagined making you shiver before.”
His cheeks are burning. He knows that Sugizo can see it, judging from the amused twinkle in his eyes, barely visible because it’s well hidden behind that danger that lures into these deep black orbs. He’s close. Just too close. So close he can feel the hot breath on his face, causing goosebumbs on his bare arms, running all down his belly.
“You sure you’re not cold?”
“Yes?”
“Hm.”
He’s getting even closer and slowly it’s dawning on Heath that he couldn’t move now, even if he’d wanted to. He’s frozen to the spot. Like a deer caught in the headlights.
He jerks a little as he feels long, rough fingertips stroking lazily over his left hipbone, moving further slowly. Straight towards his abdomen. Gliding over bare skin. And silently Sugizo is reassured that this skin is just as smooth as it looks. Until - when dipping a little lower - he finds a barely noticeable trail of stubble. Well well… someone’s very eager about body hygiene and waxing here.
“As little resistance as possible, huh?”
Knock it off, bastard.
So now Sugizo knows that he’s shaved down there. Maybe not his lucky day after all.
“There’s a trick you know?”
He’s leaning in even closer, his lips nearly touching the sensitive ear. His voice is barely a whisper and again a shiver runs down his entire body. This is getting too close. This is getting unhealthy here.
“You just have to relax every muscle.”
Relax? Haha… funny.
“Take your mind off it and think of something else.”
Of what? Those lush lips that are so close to his own? That heavy cologne that he can smell even better now and that makes his head spin? The soft fabric of the black satin shirt against his own chest?
“Here, let me help.”
This could be his last chance to get out of here.
He ignores it.
It’s just a split second, not even enough time to grasp one clear thought. He feels those lips on his own, his heart is racing in his chest and instantly the pants are forgotten. The kiss is soft, yet it feels almost painfully heavy on his lips. Painfully dangerous, painfully forbidden and therefore painfully good. His hands move up mechanically, resting on the silk covered chest before him but he doesn’t show any sign of wanting to push the other man away. His mind is totally blown out, his thoughts somewhere dim in the back of his head. This is not about thinking. This is about feeling, about taking an opportunity. This is about doing what he’d never imagine to do. And yet he’s here now. He’s here, his eyes closed and he willingly parts his lips to feel Sugizos tongue slip past.
After the first tension, he starts to relax.
He leans into the kiss, shifting a little closer even, his hands still resting on the silk. He imagines the silk gone and castigates this thought instantly. Not here. Not now. Never probably. For his own good. Yet he feels himself getting lost in this kiss, surrounded by this alluring scent.
Until he feels the smirk against his lips.
A short but forceful yank.
And a surprised gasp.
“There you go.”
Smugly Sugizo buttons the pants up and pulls the zipper. He’s even so kind to close the two belts, hanging loosely around the slim hips.
“It’s a good thing we’ve done that now.”
Heaths’ mind is still in a haze and somehow he hears those words in a blur.
“Before that pants would’ve become any tighter.”
He springs back to life when he feels those lips again, this time just giving a chaste kiss on his heated cheek.
The guitarist smiles innocently and Heath wants to scratch his face for it.
“See you at the stage, huh?”
And he’s gone.
Leaving a flushed, hot and confused Heath behind who can do nothing but stare at the open door. That really did happen, right? It takes him a second… two… three…four… maybe five… then he cracks a small, barely visible smile. He checks his hairstyle in the mirror, checks that the pants are really buttoned up and quietly curses Sugizo for being such a smug bastard, before he leaves the dressing room himself. He's gonna pay for this. He'll make sure of it.