Mozart Orchid
Mozart Orchid
Title: Mozart Orchid
Author: Bitterfig
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Seguchi Tohma/Yuki Eiri
Summary: Yuki Eiri wasn’t always such a bastard. He has a funny way of reminding himself of that.
Word Count: 1105
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, angst, sex, language.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I do not profit from their use in any way.
Author’s Note: My first Gravitation story. Fingers crossed.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Mozart Orchid
Yuki’s been a bastard again—condescending, dismissive and, finally, just cruel. Leaving Shuuichi in tears, he stalks the streets for hours smoking cigarette after cigarette. Finally, the anger in him is burnt away. He is exhausted, empty.
“I wasn’t always such a bastard,” he whispers.
He calls Seguchi Tohma’s number and says a single word. “Mozart.”
It’s a code. It means he’s going to the apartment. The apartment his brother-in-law keeps for him. Keeps for them. It’s well past
He chose Mozart as their signal because of Tohma’s music and keyboards but mostly because of the apartment. It is lush as an opera set, rich like Amadeus—white wigs and masques, brocade. The apartment is in Tohma’s colors, purples and greens, gold and cream. There’s beer in the refrigerator, crude but it’s what Yuki drinks so it belongs here.
He opens a beer and sprawls on an orchid-purple chair drinking and waiting. When he comes to the apartment, he always chooses this chair. He has his reasons. He has reasons for everything. For coming here, for what he does here, for what he will do here.
Seguchi Tohma lets himself in. Had he been out when Yuki made the call or was he sleeping? Did he leave Mika in answer to her brother’s summons? Yuki doesn’t care. That’s how much of a bastard he is. He rises, moves to Tohma. He fingers the buttons on his brother-in-law’s paisley vest.
“Hi, Seguchi,” he says gruffly. Tohma smiles warmly, radiantly.
“Eiri-san,” Tohma greets him. “I’m pleased you called me. It’s been some time.”
“Let’s just get to it,” Yuki says rudely. Tohma’s eyes, always so wide, open a bit wider. His callowness abandons him. “Please, Tohma, I need you to.”
Tohma breathes on Yuki’s lips. Tohma kisses him. His brother-in-law’s mouth feels the way an orchid looks. An invitation into ever deepening layers of color and form. Fragile beauty, delicate yet slightly dangerous. Orchid purple. His hand slides down Yuki’s pants, long fingers so sensitive from years of training on keyboards and consoles wrap gently, firmly around Yuki’s cock. There is an electricity in Tohma’s fingers, a life in them. He feels it as they make him hard.
Tohma’s hands play over him, unbuttoning his shirt, opening his pants, exposing him. Yuki falls back onto the sofa, yielding to his brother-in-law’s caresses. This is not the way things are with Shuuichi. With Shuuichi he has to be always pushing, grabbing, groping, shoving, always actively on top of things. That’s what he wants; that’s what he seeks out in all areas. Endless forward propulsion: driving, smoking, writing, fucking. It exhausts him. No wonder he sleeps like a dead thing. Sleep is his only reprise.
Sleep and Tohma.
Tohma is the only one he can trust. When Yuki Eiri was a kid—a dumb, sweet, sad kid named Uesugi Eiri—his sister married a blond musician with a pale, angel face. Yuki had never seen romantic love before, not up close. They defined it for him; Tohma defined it.
Yuki’s not stupid. He’s not a kid anymore. He knows now Tohma is no angel. If he was, he wouldn’t be here. He’d be with his wife. Yet Yuki can’t stop believing in Tohma. He can’t stop believing there’s something pure in his love. That Tohma would do anything to protect him, anything to keep him from being hurt.
He’s naked, his long body laid out for Tohma who moves on top of him. Most of Tohma’s clothes are still on—the fine silkiness of his shirt, the scrap of embroidery against Yuki’s chest—but his erection swells against Yuki’s, batters against his thighs.
Tohma draws back, rolling a condom over his cock, a pale almost pearly sheath. He always uses a condom and Yuki is grateful for this. Somehow, that thin membrane of latex separates Yuki from Mika, sister from brother.
Tohma draws him from the sofa onto the floor, onto his hands and knees. One hand strokes his cock, the other moves over his shoulders, the length of his back, over his ass, lingering between his thighs. Slowly, Tohma’s finger slides coolly inside him.
He could not do this with Shuuichi. In bed Shuuichi will let Yuki do anything but surrender. Shuuichi would freak the hell out if he heard his lover moaning like a tacky schoolboy. Saw him grinding on his knees. Tohma lets him do this. Tohma inches his cock inside the younger man. In and out again in intoxicating rhythm, his weight against Yuki’s back, lips pressed to his shoulder. Yuki bucks and jerks and gracelessly comes in Tohma’s hand.
He knows Tohma is no angel. That Tohma’s love is as diseased as anyone else’s. Something is not right when a man takes a boy across the ocean and sets him up like a concubine as Tohma did with him. It could be a gothic romance, a second-rate rip-off of Jane Eyre. If Yuki Eiri were writing it as one of his novels, the boy, Uesugi Eiri…he would be some kind of young heiress. Tohma would have to be the villain. The diabolical brother-in-law with his own interests in the heroine. In the romance, the tutor hired for the girl would prove the hero. Their love would be forbidden because she was his student and he was poor. In the end, their love would triumph.
Yuki’s readers would never accept a story where the teacher sells his true love to be raped by strangers, where she blows him away, then lets the diabolical brother-in-law fuck her up the ass because he’s her only link to what she was and what she once believed.
Yuki doesn’t have a lot of respect for his readers.
Tohma finishes, collapses on top of him. He’s so slight, smaller than Yuki. It would be so easy for Yuki to take control, but he never does. When he is in Tohma’s hands, he can be what he was when he and Tohma were first together, before he became strong and hard, before he made himself impervious. Before he was cruel.
“I wasn’t always such a bastard, was I?” Yuki asks.
“You’ve always been my sweet boy,” Tohma whispers.
This is his justification for coming to the apartment, for being with Tohma, for betraying both his lover and sister. Only Tohma can remind him that once he was someone who would not dream of hurting the ones he loves, the ones who love him the way he just has.