[fic] Sakebi
title: Sakebi
genre: drama
rating: PG-13
band/pairing: Kagrra, x RENTER EN SOI: Isshi, Satsuki
word count 843
warnings: n/a
summary: One last time.
comments: I feel like I should be apologizing for this thing; Isshi sort of took it somewhere entirely different from how it was supposed to be. Sorry, ihain. Maybe next time?
~*~*~
Bright lights and screaming, crying fans begging for just one more song, one last chance at connection. It tore at Isshi’s heart, the same he knew it was breaking all of theirs, but he stayed at his self-appointed post. Stayed and watched and cried along with them. Bitter tears that fell to the very end.
~*~
“Isshi-kun....”
“Surprise,” he whispered, pushing a smile through the tear tracks. A heartbeat, perhaps less, and he was stealing Satsuki away from the others, silencing him with a look, a finger over chapped lips. Too easy, but no complaints as wood sealed them off from the world. No one else to see, no more need to pretend he was the strong one, Satsuki crumbled as he had refused to allow himself to do on stage. And Isshi was there, offering what strength he could, gentle fingers combing through sweat-soaked hair. No words exchanged, none truly needed. This wasn’t about words, not right now. Maybe not ever.
~*~
Isshi didn’t know how it had happened, doubted he ever would. One moment he had been comforting a crying friend and the next, Satsuki was pressing him hard against the wall, kissing him with the desperation of a drowning man. Strong as he was, Isshi knew better than to think himself above such temptation, one hand reaching up to tangle fingers in dirty blond hair. Right or wrong, he would not, could not back down now, meeting Satsuki’s intensity with his own. Push and push back until he had their positions reversed, until it was Satsuki pressed to the wall and he had the other man moaning beneath him. Reckless abandon, the way his hands wormed into undone clothes, explored this new canvas of sensation. The feel of warm skin, the soft sounds that spilled from Satsuki’s lips at each new touch ... a heady drug that pushed him to coax more from those parted lips.
“Isshi...”
“Don’t hold back,” Isshi murmured, sinking teeth into flesh just below Satsuki’s ear, delighting in the low moan the bite produced. The spare dressing room, unneeded for this show, offered little for comfort, but it didn’t really matter. The lighted dressing counter would do well enough, Isshi lifting Satsuki easily, losing the other singer’s pants along the way. Completely unnecessary, unwanted, and Isshi quite liked the shiver as bare skin hit cool laminate. Or perhaps it was from his teeth nipping at the star inked into Satsuki's skin. He tasted that spot again, reveling in the low moan, the arch of the other man's body against his own.
“Isshi, please....”
His friend's voice didn't sound nearly desperate enough yet, but it would. Maybe he should have been hurrying more lest they get caught, but he couldn't rush this. This slow surrender to lust, the feel of his friend losing himself in pleasure as Isshi kissed him, seduced him with mouth and tongue and hands. Satsuki's leg curled around his hip as he leaned back against the mirror, drawing Isshi even closer. A hand curled in Isshi's hair as he continued to lavish attention on Satsuki's neck, nipped a slow, wandering trail down his throat, pushing aside his unbuttoned shirt to explore yet lower. The taste of sweat laid heavy on his tongue, his usual distaste subverted by the stream of aroused noises coming from his friend, the needily clenching fingers in his hair. He wanted to hear Satsuki scream.
~*~
“Isshi-kun? Isshi-kun...?”
A startled moment for Isshi to gather his wits about him again. How embarrassing, to let his mind wander like that and at a time like this. But Satsuki's tears had stopped, for the moment at least.
“Better?” he asked softly, stroking a hand through sweat-dampened hair.
“Perhaps,” Satsuki murmured, a thin smile on the man's lips as he stepped closer again, rested his head on Isshi's chest. So easy to slide his arms around his friend, to give him that supportive closeness he seemed to need so much.
“You should go, shower, change. Your band, your crew ... they're waiting for you,” Isshi murmured, brushing a light kiss against Satsuki's crown.
“Join us?” It was an impulsive request and Isshi knew better than to accept it. A sweet thought, but this was something special, meaningful, and while not exactly private ... he wasn't part of the Rentrer family. He had no business intruding.
“I'm not sure the others would welcome me so readily. This will be the last time you get to do something like this with all of them, ne?”
Isshi hated the sound of that defeated sigh, but at least Satsuki was willing to see that he was right. And still the other man lingered.
“Satsuki-kun....”
“I won't let you out of this so easily next time,” Satsuki said as he stepped back, determined eyes gazing up at him. Reassuring, that, and Isshi bowed happily to this condition.
“When next you ask, I won't refuse,” he agreed, taking a step back of his own. Might have beens were cold comfort on the long drive home, but they were better than a morning of regret.
genre: drama
rating: PG-13
band/pairing: Kagrra, x RENTER EN SOI: Isshi, Satsuki
word count 843
warnings: n/a
summary: One last time.
comments: I feel like I should be apologizing for this thing; Isshi sort of took it somewhere entirely different from how it was supposed to be. Sorry, ihain. Maybe next time?
~*~*~
Bright lights and screaming, crying fans begging for just one more song, one last chance at connection. It tore at Isshi’s heart, the same he knew it was breaking all of theirs, but he stayed at his self-appointed post. Stayed and watched and cried along with them. Bitter tears that fell to the very end.
~*~
“Isshi-kun....”
“Surprise,” he whispered, pushing a smile through the tear tracks. A heartbeat, perhaps less, and he was stealing Satsuki away from the others, silencing him with a look, a finger over chapped lips. Too easy, but no complaints as wood sealed them off from the world. No one else to see, no more need to pretend he was the strong one, Satsuki crumbled as he had refused to allow himself to do on stage. And Isshi was there, offering what strength he could, gentle fingers combing through sweat-soaked hair. No words exchanged, none truly needed. This wasn’t about words, not right now. Maybe not ever.
~*~
Isshi didn’t know how it had happened, doubted he ever would. One moment he had been comforting a crying friend and the next, Satsuki was pressing him hard against the wall, kissing him with the desperation of a drowning man. Strong as he was, Isshi knew better than to think himself above such temptation, one hand reaching up to tangle fingers in dirty blond hair. Right or wrong, he would not, could not back down now, meeting Satsuki’s intensity with his own. Push and push back until he had their positions reversed, until it was Satsuki pressed to the wall and he had the other man moaning beneath him. Reckless abandon, the way his hands wormed into undone clothes, explored this new canvas of sensation. The feel of warm skin, the soft sounds that spilled from Satsuki’s lips at each new touch ... a heady drug that pushed him to coax more from those parted lips.
“Isshi...”
“Don’t hold back,” Isshi murmured, sinking teeth into flesh just below Satsuki’s ear, delighting in the low moan the bite produced. The spare dressing room, unneeded for this show, offered little for comfort, but it didn’t really matter. The lighted dressing counter would do well enough, Isshi lifting Satsuki easily, losing the other singer’s pants along the way. Completely unnecessary, unwanted, and Isshi quite liked the shiver as bare skin hit cool laminate. Or perhaps it was from his teeth nipping at the star inked into Satsuki's skin. He tasted that spot again, reveling in the low moan, the arch of the other man's body against his own.
“Isshi, please....”
His friend's voice didn't sound nearly desperate enough yet, but it would. Maybe he should have been hurrying more lest they get caught, but he couldn't rush this. This slow surrender to lust, the feel of his friend losing himself in pleasure as Isshi kissed him, seduced him with mouth and tongue and hands. Satsuki's leg curled around his hip as he leaned back against the mirror, drawing Isshi even closer. A hand curled in Isshi's hair as he continued to lavish attention on Satsuki's neck, nipped a slow, wandering trail down his throat, pushing aside his unbuttoned shirt to explore yet lower. The taste of sweat laid heavy on his tongue, his usual distaste subverted by the stream of aroused noises coming from his friend, the needily clenching fingers in his hair. He wanted to hear Satsuki scream.
~*~
“Isshi-kun? Isshi-kun...?”
A startled moment for Isshi to gather his wits about him again. How embarrassing, to let his mind wander like that and at a time like this. But Satsuki's tears had stopped, for the moment at least.
“Better?” he asked softly, stroking a hand through sweat-dampened hair.
“Perhaps,” Satsuki murmured, a thin smile on the man's lips as he stepped closer again, rested his head on Isshi's chest. So easy to slide his arms around his friend, to give him that supportive closeness he seemed to need so much.
“You should go, shower, change. Your band, your crew ... they're waiting for you,” Isshi murmured, brushing a light kiss against Satsuki's crown.
“Join us?” It was an impulsive request and Isshi knew better than to accept it. A sweet thought, but this was something special, meaningful, and while not exactly private ... he wasn't part of the Rentrer family. He had no business intruding.
“I'm not sure the others would welcome me so readily. This will be the last time you get to do something like this with all of them, ne?”
Isshi hated the sound of that defeated sigh, but at least Satsuki was willing to see that he was right. And still the other man lingered.
“Satsuki-kun....”
“I won't let you out of this so easily next time,” Satsuki said as he stepped back, determined eyes gazing up at him. Reassuring, that, and Isshi bowed happily to this condition.
“When next you ask, I won't refuse,” he agreed, taking a step back of his own. Might have beens were cold comfort on the long drive home, but they were better than a morning of regret.