#30 Theme 17: Filth in the Beauty - the GazettE; Tora/Hiroto
Title: In the Waiting Room
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 017 Filth in the Beauty (the GazettE)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU, crack
Comments: Found this thing that needed finishing...
In the Waiting Room
Hiroto entered the library with a light tapping of feet and quick shake of his head. His hands were red with cold, melted snow staining most of his clothes a darker shade, and hair sticking out wildly from the icy gusts blown his way. Behind him the automatic doors slid shut with a hiss, keeping out the frigid winds and trapping in the temperate heat.
He was early, but it was usually better than being late. Shrugging his bag further up a shoulder, Hiroto stepped through the metal detectors and made a beeline towards the nearest clutter of chairs and tables. He had to stop halfway though, when his glasses fogged up at the sudden change in temperature. Flushing, he plucked the thick plastic frames off his face and wiped furiously at them, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead on the nearest empty seat once he'd gotten them back on and could see to walk.
Unfortunately the nearest empty seat turned out to be further than Hiroto expected. He filed past the library's small computer cafe, all seats and booths, desktops and coffee cups. He dearly wished he were invisible as he examined each spot's occupancy, hoping for an open computer so he'd at least have something to make him look busy while waiting for Shou to come and fill the awkward lack of companionship. All he got for his trouble was embarrassing eye contact with just about every stranger in the room.
It wasn't that the place was packed, just that all the seats were taken. Cheeks burning, Hiroto spotted a vacant couch between the checkout desk and a group of taken computers. It didn't have internet, but at least it was a place to sit; sit and not stand where it felt like hundreds of eyes were following him as he stumbled and tripped on his two left feet. He probably looked terrible and the foggy glasses hadn't helped.
Biting his lip and hoping no one had looked up to witness his generally disheveled behavior, Hiroto set his bag on his lap. He looked at its plain black cover, sullenly aware of the pair of sneakers just opposite him. Great. As if looking stupid in public wasn't mortifying enough, now he had to sit and wait in front of a stranger - a stranger who had probably witnessed his public stupidity no less.
Peeking through his bangs Hiroto eyed him. He was allowed one look right? Proper etiquette and survival instincts definitely dictated it okay for him to politely survey his surrounding danger and whatnot at least once oh hello piercing.
Hiroto eyes couldn't help but linger longer than necessary on the spike of metal through the stranger's lip. Not to mention the two-toned mohawk cut short. Hiroto didn't know how long it'd been since he'd seen a lip piercing. Shou had taken his out a couple years ago, but it never ceased to amaze Hiroto how someone could sit through the pain of sharp metal sinking through soft, blood-filled skin and forcing a permanent hole. He couldn't even summon the nerve to get his own ears pierced.
This stranger looked sharp while Hiroto was a bit squishy around the cheeks. Tall too, something Hiroto had finally admitted he would never be. Sharp, clean, and tall, the only words Hiroto seemed able to conjure up amidst the hustle and bustle of library activity. His skin seemed smooth, pale but healthy looking. And that's when Hiroto realized he'd been staring too long.
Quickly shifting his attention to the wooden coffee table between them, blunted corners, scratched and dented surface, Hiroto tried to ignore the other completely. Maybe he ought to pick something off the table just to make himself seem at least vaguely occupied. He didn't even have to read, just so long as he had something to stare at other than people that could stare back.
The grey newsprints looked rather unappetizing though. Sports, no. Home decor, no. Five tips for the best orgasm you'll ever have?! Hiroto's face turned an even pinker pink. Swallowing, he sat back in his seat a safe distance away from the coffee table, trying to feign disinterest.
Where was Shou anyways? Being early seemed to have a lot more cons now that he thought about it. He had to sit alone for one, be quiet for another. Trying to stay as still and inconspicuous as possible, Hiroto's eyes swiveled once again to the stranger in front of him. Was he being too loud? What if he took out his iPod and headphones, sealed himself off from reality with music? What would he think?
Glancing across the table, his neighbor looked just as nonchalant as ever, book held open in one hand while the other clutched a steaming cup of what was probably coffee, talking small sips every now and then. Large hands hid most of a simple cover and wrapped all the way around his cup. They were strong hands, veined and thick-knuckled, a tattoo staining one finger, nails cut short.
Hiroto shivered. He could use something warm to drink, but he knew it would be a waste of money. It was easier to just sit and wait until he got home, warm up some milk, stir in some honey. Biting his lip he watched the other drink, his own hands tucked under his thighs.
Wouldn't it make sense though, for coffee to be dribbling out the tiny hole in his mouth? Hiroto studied the piercing but nothing came, only moist lips moving, pressing against a plastic top, slurping in warmth. The stranger swallowed and abruptly sat back, completely at ease and slouched in his seat.
His legs were spread an inch wider.
They look sturdy, Hiroto thought offhandedly, large and long and just whenever he saw jean clad legs like those spread at just that angle, he wanted to walk over and climb on. He wasn't perving or anything, Hiroto nodded, staring some more. It was just an inviting lap. Inviting...
His gaze flickered back up to the other man's stoic face, concentrated and completely unaware of his audience. A sleek brow arched up at something in his book and Hiroto wondered what he was reading or if he shaved those things because plucking hurt.
The cup was placed on the table and free hand dropped into his lap. Hiroto's eyes were drawn to it, following fingers that tapped lightly on a thigh, almost annoyed and as if they were waiting for something. He flinched in surprise as a snort punctuated the other's reading, looking up to find the man staring derisively at worn pages, a thin smirk playing across his lips.
If anything, that looked aimed at lined pages sent Hiroto's mind plunging down the gutter.
He was reminded of that night not too long ago, when he'd dared let Shou's friend, an acquaintance with pouty lips and sultry eyes, skin threaded with metal, tongue a knowing flick, lead him into a dark alley.
A shudder wracked his frame at the thought, remembering. Foreign fingers had tapped impatiently on his hips, waiting for Hiroto to pull out what he needed. Lube, a condom, it was dirty and quick, hasty fingers searching, sinking, twisting. A wordless exchange that had left Hiroto breathless against the wall, legs weak and head swimming with a shadowed leer and retreating face.
Crossing his legs, Hiroto shifted in his seat.
Sometimes, he just wanted to feel that dirty, that used, feel his knees part for a complete stranger and his lips abused without reason.
He looked at the man across from him, could see himself bent on rug-burned knees before him, hands rested on taut thighs and lips wrapped around a thick- "Hey! Pon!"
Hiroto quickly swiveled in his seat, searching nervously for a familiar face to match that familiar voice.
"Right behind you, idiot."
He looked up wide-eyed to find Shou towering above him.
"Suh-Shuh-Shou. Shou, there you are." Relief flooded his frame. "I was waiting..." Chewing on his lip again, Hiroto carefully made to get up, bag held snug to his front. Unconsciously his eyes stole one last look at the stranger, peeking to the front through his bangs. Light, slanted eyes were still trained on paper, features now thoughtful.
"Sorry to make you wait. I just got out of class, but our..."
Licking his lips Hiroto trailed after his classmate. Shou's voice was a dull buzz in the background as they exited the front doors. He wanted to look back, just once more, but that would be weird. He was already weird enough, all quirky updos and pink cheeks, but oh well...
---
Tora closed the book in his lap, index finger holding his page as he watched the young man leave.
Interesting. Very interesting.
A smirk lit his features as he got up, shrugging on a coat and tossing his cup away.
He would follow them.
A/N:
All the half-written things were nonsense to begin with.
That was why I never finished them and this is what happens when I do.
Pon is such naughty fail...
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 017 Filth in the Beauty (the GazettE)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU, crack
Comments: Found this thing that needed finishing...
In the Waiting Room
Hiroto entered the library with a light tapping of feet and quick shake of his head. His hands were red with cold, melted snow staining most of his clothes a darker shade, and hair sticking out wildly from the icy gusts blown his way. Behind him the automatic doors slid shut with a hiss, keeping out the frigid winds and trapping in the temperate heat.
He was early, but it was usually better than being late. Shrugging his bag further up a shoulder, Hiroto stepped through the metal detectors and made a beeline towards the nearest clutter of chairs and tables. He had to stop halfway though, when his glasses fogged up at the sudden change in temperature. Flushing, he plucked the thick plastic frames off his face and wiped furiously at them, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead on the nearest empty seat once he'd gotten them back on and could see to walk.
Unfortunately the nearest empty seat turned out to be further than Hiroto expected. He filed past the library's small computer cafe, all seats and booths, desktops and coffee cups. He dearly wished he were invisible as he examined each spot's occupancy, hoping for an open computer so he'd at least have something to make him look busy while waiting for Shou to come and fill the awkward lack of companionship. All he got for his trouble was embarrassing eye contact with just about every stranger in the room.
It wasn't that the place was packed, just that all the seats were taken. Cheeks burning, Hiroto spotted a vacant couch between the checkout desk and a group of taken computers. It didn't have internet, but at least it was a place to sit; sit and not stand where it felt like hundreds of eyes were following him as he stumbled and tripped on his two left feet. He probably looked terrible and the foggy glasses hadn't helped.
Biting his lip and hoping no one had looked up to witness his generally disheveled behavior, Hiroto set his bag on his lap. He looked at its plain black cover, sullenly aware of the pair of sneakers just opposite him. Great. As if looking stupid in public wasn't mortifying enough, now he had to sit and wait in front of a stranger - a stranger who had probably witnessed his public stupidity no less.
Peeking through his bangs Hiroto eyed him. He was allowed one look right? Proper etiquette and survival instincts definitely dictated it okay for him to politely survey his surrounding danger and whatnot at least once oh hello piercing.
Hiroto eyes couldn't help but linger longer than necessary on the spike of metal through the stranger's lip. Not to mention the two-toned mohawk cut short. Hiroto didn't know how long it'd been since he'd seen a lip piercing. Shou had taken his out a couple years ago, but it never ceased to amaze Hiroto how someone could sit through the pain of sharp metal sinking through soft, blood-filled skin and forcing a permanent hole. He couldn't even summon the nerve to get his own ears pierced.
This stranger looked sharp while Hiroto was a bit squishy around the cheeks. Tall too, something Hiroto had finally admitted he would never be. Sharp, clean, and tall, the only words Hiroto seemed able to conjure up amidst the hustle and bustle of library activity. His skin seemed smooth, pale but healthy looking. And that's when Hiroto realized he'd been staring too long.
Quickly shifting his attention to the wooden coffee table between them, blunted corners, scratched and dented surface, Hiroto tried to ignore the other completely. Maybe he ought to pick something off the table just to make himself seem at least vaguely occupied. He didn't even have to read, just so long as he had something to stare at other than people that could stare back.
The grey newsprints looked rather unappetizing though. Sports, no. Home decor, no. Five tips for the best orgasm you'll ever have?! Hiroto's face turned an even pinker pink. Swallowing, he sat back in his seat a safe distance away from the coffee table, trying to feign disinterest.
Where was Shou anyways? Being early seemed to have a lot more cons now that he thought about it. He had to sit alone for one, be quiet for another. Trying to stay as still and inconspicuous as possible, Hiroto's eyes swiveled once again to the stranger in front of him. Was he being too loud? What if he took out his iPod and headphones, sealed himself off from reality with music? What would he think?
Glancing across the table, his neighbor looked just as nonchalant as ever, book held open in one hand while the other clutched a steaming cup of what was probably coffee, talking small sips every now and then. Large hands hid most of a simple cover and wrapped all the way around his cup. They were strong hands, veined and thick-knuckled, a tattoo staining one finger, nails cut short.
Hiroto shivered. He could use something warm to drink, but he knew it would be a waste of money. It was easier to just sit and wait until he got home, warm up some milk, stir in some honey. Biting his lip he watched the other drink, his own hands tucked under his thighs.
Wouldn't it make sense though, for coffee to be dribbling out the tiny hole in his mouth? Hiroto studied the piercing but nothing came, only moist lips moving, pressing against a plastic top, slurping in warmth. The stranger swallowed and abruptly sat back, completely at ease and slouched in his seat.
His legs were spread an inch wider.
They look sturdy, Hiroto thought offhandedly, large and long and just whenever he saw jean clad legs like those spread at just that angle, he wanted to walk over and climb on. He wasn't perving or anything, Hiroto nodded, staring some more. It was just an inviting lap. Inviting...
His gaze flickered back up to the other man's stoic face, concentrated and completely unaware of his audience. A sleek brow arched up at something in his book and Hiroto wondered what he was reading or if he shaved those things because plucking hurt.
The cup was placed on the table and free hand dropped into his lap. Hiroto's eyes were drawn to it, following fingers that tapped lightly on a thigh, almost annoyed and as if they were waiting for something. He flinched in surprise as a snort punctuated the other's reading, looking up to find the man staring derisively at worn pages, a thin smirk playing across his lips.
If anything, that looked aimed at lined pages sent Hiroto's mind plunging down the gutter.
He was reminded of that night not too long ago, when he'd dared let Shou's friend, an acquaintance with pouty lips and sultry eyes, skin threaded with metal, tongue a knowing flick, lead him into a dark alley.
A shudder wracked his frame at the thought, remembering. Foreign fingers had tapped impatiently on his hips, waiting for Hiroto to pull out what he needed. Lube, a condom, it was dirty and quick, hasty fingers searching, sinking, twisting. A wordless exchange that had left Hiroto breathless against the wall, legs weak and head swimming with a shadowed leer and retreating face.
Crossing his legs, Hiroto shifted in his seat.
Sometimes, he just wanted to feel that dirty, that used, feel his knees part for a complete stranger and his lips abused without reason.
He looked at the man across from him, could see himself bent on rug-burned knees before him, hands rested on taut thighs and lips wrapped around a thick- "Hey! Pon!"
Hiroto quickly swiveled in his seat, searching nervously for a familiar face to match that familiar voice.
"Right behind you, idiot."
He looked up wide-eyed to find Shou towering above him.
"Suh-Shuh-Shou. Shou, there you are." Relief flooded his frame. "I was waiting..." Chewing on his lip again, Hiroto carefully made to get up, bag held snug to his front. Unconsciously his eyes stole one last look at the stranger, peeking to the front through his bangs. Light, slanted eyes were still trained on paper, features now thoughtful.
"Sorry to make you wait. I just got out of class, but our..."
Licking his lips Hiroto trailed after his classmate. Shou's voice was a dull buzz in the background as they exited the front doors. He wanted to look back, just once more, but that would be weird. He was already weird enough, all quirky updos and pink cheeks, but oh well...
---
Tora closed the book in his lap, index finger holding his page as he watched the young man leave.
Interesting. Very interesting.
A smirk lit his features as he got up, shrugging on a coat and tossing his cup away.
He would follow them.
A/N:
All the half-written things were nonsense to begin with.
That was why I never finished them and this is what happens when I do.
Pon is such naughty fail...
Archive