Chasing Butterflies: Prelude
Prelude: Part Three
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DISCLAIMER | Gravitation and its characters are copyright to
Murakami Maki; no infringement is intended through the publishing of this fan
work. The author profits nothing from this, as this is for his own selfish
enjoyment, as well as for the fans who appreciate it.
WARNING | This story contains lime and copious amount
of yaoi. Run away if any or both material offends
you. Otherwise, enjoy and let me know what you think!
…for Aldrich…like always
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Chasing Butterflies: A Prelude (Part Three)
© keiichi, 2006
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“Fuck me.”
Before Shuichi could process the proposition, he found himself melting into
another fervent kiss, this time initiated by Tatsuha.
The boy’s lips were bruising, his tongue a little too desperate, and his hands
gripped onto the singer’s shirt, forcefully pulling him deeper. Shuichi let out
a muffled protest, but it came out sounding more like a moan than an objection.
He groaned inwardly. The steady tightening inside his shorts wasn’t helping
any.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was wrong. This was totally,
undeniably *wrong*; he loved Eiri—no, he *loves*
line between right and wrong blurred into a vision of desire and need.
The boy tasted sweetly of rum-soda, cigarettes and pocky,
very familiar and yet, not quite so. The tongue swirled around his, and the
singer couldn’t help but submit to the monk’s ministrations. This was so
different from the first time; that one time Tatsuha
had pinned him down and tried to molest him. This time, the teen didn’t seem to
want to, and even though he was the one who initiated, the control wasn’t there
with Tatsuha anymore. /Why…?/
Tatsuha’s hands were back on his waist, on his side
caressing, sliding up Shuichi’s shirt to expose the taut muscles of his
abdomen, teasing the waistband of his boxers. Shuichi vaguely debated if it was
his own inexperience or the natural talent of both Uesugi
males to reduce him into this puddle of pink goo,
because he found all his restraint slowly ebbing away.
“Fuck me.” Tatsuha repeated in a husky tone between
their mouths, “Fuck me… please.”
Shuichi shivered. Perhaps it was simply compassion for the boy, perhaps at some
level he saw himself in Tatsuha even if it obviously
turned out rather differently for him. Or perhaps it was just that desperate
plea that Shuichi had so longed to hear from Eiri,
insisting, begging, pleading… His fantasies of taking his novelist boyfriend
got him off more than the image of Eiri slamming into
him in ecstasy. Nevertheless, whatever it was, the singer knew for certain that
his self-control had snapped at that crucial moment,
and nothing more of his resistance was left.
A voice in his head chastised him, /You’re such a weak idiot
faint voice. And it certainly wasn’t enough to rein in his arousal as he lifted
himself out of his seat to straddle the monk, pressing his lips and slamming
the teen hard onto the passenger seat with one hand, while the other reached
down the side of the car seat to pull on the adjustment. Shuichi managed all of
this in one fluid motion, without even breaking contact with
Yes, a weak idiot he was; Shuichi couldn’t agree more when he unbuckled
he hurriedly unzipped his pants…
+++
Pleasure. Sweet, delicious pleasure.
It washed his whole being like a surge of electricity, and his skin tingled at
the intensity. It all converged to the one point that mattered; his single
point of focus and so help him because he could do anything but stop.
“G-gomen Tatsu~haaaahh!”
[1] He could’ve stopped—he didn’t want to because it felt oh-so-good to be
buried like that, the boy’s inner muscles clamping onto his hardened flesh like
a vice—“G-gomen—nnnghh!!”
But Tatsuha won’t let him stop—he didn’t *seem* to
want him to stop. And so he kept on with his frantic thrusts, his body
instantly betraying the garbled words that fell from his mouth.
Slick, hot, delicious pleasure. The body below him
would meet his every thrust with such violent urgency, rolling and grinding for
friction and release. And once again, he found himself surrendering as he slid
his fingers onto the other’s weeping member, pumping him rhythmically with the
movement of his hips.
He still realized how utterly wrong this was, but it was too late, much too
late to turn back now. They were both so close, and he could feel the rising
outburst of climax as the boy’s nails dug deeper onto his flesh, sure to leave
a marking bruise.
Want, guilt, pleasure… he was sure they were the highest of sins.
half-hearted cry of contrition, before they both screamed their release and
pleasure into the blinding white light.
“Ryu..ichi…”
rolled out of him like waves. The singer couldn’t help his own tears fall as he
reached out for the younger boy’s shivering form.
“I’m sorry, Tatsuha…” He really didn’t know anymore
what it was he was apologizing for; nothing felt right at that moment, not
this, not Tatsuha. He shifted slightly to press his
spent body closer to the black-haired teen, wrapping his arms around the boy’s
neck as the latter clung to him for dear life. Tears constantly flowed down the
monk’s flushed cheeks, as he called out to the one who would never hear his
heart.
“Ryuichi…”
But perhaps, maybe… they could just hold onto that single moment a little
longer, and pretend that everything was all right in the world. “I’m so sorry…”
+++owari+++
TERMS | [1] Gomen – impolite use of “I’m sorry.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES | This ends the Prelude, and I'm happy
to report that my plans for extending this story is well under way. So if
anyone's interested, watch out for updates in the next few weeks.
THANK YOU so much, Proycon,
wonderful beta and for sticking with me on this fic.
And also to XParrot and her beautiful stories, for
inspiring me: THANK YOU!
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