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Ryuichi x Shuichi	By : flagfish Category: Gravitation > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ryuichi x Shuichi
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
“Sing to me.”
It was something Eiri never said to Shuichi, something he probably never intended to say; if anything, he had muttered time and again how much he wished the guy would just shut the hell up.
But it comes softly now, sweetly, eerily seductive with the wet slide of lips against Shuichi’s ear, sing, sing to me,
The velvety, fluid sound of Ryuichi’s voice ghosting humid just at his temple, close enough to kiss, sing to me.
Center stage, mid-show, hundreds of eyes on him, Shuichi feels himself go entirely rigid, hands wet in their grasp on the mic as Nittle Grasper’s lead singer croons in his ear.
Hundreds of eyes on him, and Ryuichi wants him to sing to him.
Seeing as no sound comes out the other boy’s mouth, Ryuichi then gently pries the mic out of Shuichi’s grasp, and, turning his face deliberately toward his with an insistent hand, begins crooning the first few lines of Bad Luck’s next song.
A love song.
Within moments, the hall is filled with screams and cheers from the audience, reverberating ecstatic and loud all throughout, as, very slowly, Ryuichi leans in to kiss him.
Shuichi doesn’t resist; he actually begins kissing back for the first few moments before, all at once, he comes to his senses and takes about three steps back.
But the damage is done; this is what every woman in the audience had dreamt and hoped for ever since Nittle Grasper became involved with Bad Luck; this is what in the back of their minds they always had wanted to see. This was going to raise publicity for Bad Luck a thousand fold.
“Right!”
Shuichi coughs, shaken into cognizance with a rude awakening,
“…to our next song, then!”
But as much as he doesn’t want to fall back into the debauchery in which they’ve just engaged, it’s no use. The entire rest of the song is unquestionable insinuation, unspoken lust and sex with clothes on, every fangirl’s dream as the duet issues forth dirty and seductive, two sweaty, glitter-drenched pop idols flirting openly as they croon at one another, mere inches apart.
“It’s what sells,”
Tohma Seguchi sighs, flipping the display off at last and tossing the remote to the sofa, “it’s good publicity for Bad Luck, I say forget it, he never was good for you any—“
“I’ve already forgotten.”
Fuming inwardly on the other end of the sofa, Eiri Yuki hasn’t spoken a word till then.
Tohma can merely watch with reserved compassion what clearly was a suppressed amount of self-deprecation and rage.
Several moments pass before he rises to his feet and paces closer to Eiri’s side. “You really didn’t see it coming,” he says softly, “did you.”
Eiri could go on about it again, deny any emotional reaction to what they’d seen, but he doesn’t bother; Tohma had cared for him since childhood. Perhaps he alone really knew what was on his mind.
No, he really didn’t. He didn’t see it coming, and he didn’t foresee that he would actually care.
Funny how things work out.
It’s just show business, Tohma might have said, it’s only fan service, but they both know there was something more. Shuichi had a deep-seated admiration for Ryuichi, and Ryuichi—well—he’d been coming on to Bad Luck’s singer for some time, isn’t that right, Eiri just didn’t care enough to take it all too seriously.
This wouldn’t be a good time, then, to mention that things like this happen intra-band all the time, and that I’m sure Shindou and his guitarist have regularly pulled that sort of thing, except that, as Bad Luck’s manager, he’d only ever witnessed it happen between them once or twice.
He sighs with the assumed resignation of an older sibling, allowing Eiri to take his usual place in his arms, “You’re welcome to stay the night,” he says, knowing all too well that Shindou will likely go searching for Eiri frantically after the show, to apologize and cry and partake in the fight that surely would ensue after that.
Or would he? That would be expected, of course, but it also was expected that he wouldn’t partake in such a thing in the first place.
“Yeah,” comes the quiet reply, “yeah, let’s do that.”
Tohma smiles kindly. One arm still wrapped comfortingly around the other boy, he reaches around to remove his hat. It’s been a long week.
It’s been a long month, it’s been exhausting and he’s been tired and overworked and beat, and it’s a secret to no one, certainly not to Eiri, that feeling the boy resign quietly in his arms serves to console him just as well.
Would there be an after party, he wonders, because an after party is what routinely followed a show, and the after party is when band members got good and drunk and he usually didn’t give it so much as a second thought, except that, usually, the show, itself, didn’t involve Shuichi and his life-long idol making out.
Whatever happened, it was probably best for Eiri not to worry about it.
“Why don’t I make us some dinner,” he offers instead, and, quietly, seriously, Eiri replies,
“Whatever.”
“Dinner it is.”
***
They don’t need to wait for the after party.
By the time the curtain comes down, Ryuichi has Shuichi on his back on the stage floor, glitter and confetti descending in slow motion all around as his mouth comes down on his, whispering, crooning, part-singing lines which Shuichi partly sings back.
Even though this is bad.
Even though this is all kinds of wrong.
Even though this is really, seriously messed up.
“I’m going straight to hell,” Shuichi murmurs helplessly as he struggles just the tiniest bit in the other boy’s grasp, “this is all horribly wrong—“
“But I love you, Shuichi,”
Comes the reply, and it’s enough, just hearing this is enough to weaken him again.
“Hahaha—d—don’t say stuff like that—“
Shuichi attempts to laugh, but, for once, Sakuma really isn’t joking around.
Does he—
Could he really—
What are we—
He wants to stop, but already he’s too far gone. He wants to stop, because this is a horrible disaster, and it goes without saying that he loves Eiri, but there’s also the very real fact that, hot and hard above him, there is the sweat-slicked body of Sakuma Ryuichi, his life-long idol and very inspiration for ever pursuing music in the first place.
Beautiful. Gentle. Velvety, magical, real and warm, and close, so close, so insistent and hot that it’s impossible, nearly impossible to hold back—
“Should I take you right here,”
Comes Ryuichi’s voice, hoarse and humid with expiration of breath, “right here, on the stage floor—“
“Q—quit joking around—!”
Shuichi manages at last,
“I can’t be doing this sort of thing with you—“
“You wanna run home,” comes the reply, but Ryuichi doesn’t stop kissing him, “run home and cry and beg for Eiri’s forgiveness—“
“Yeah! Yes, that’s what I wa—“
Shuichi lights up in a brief moment of what he thinks is mutual understanding before again the other boy’s mouth comes on his,
“But I won’t let you. Not this time.”
He kisses him again,
“This time you’re mine.”
To be continued...
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- 2
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Ryuichi x Shuichi