30 Color Somethings: Gravitation

8. White as a Ghost

Vampires were in, and Toma had let all the bands at N-G know that the first band to come up with a vampire-themed song or better yet, entire cd, was going to have a TV special and perform at the hottest nightclub in Tokyo right now, the Vamp Cave.

“K-san, we are not a Goth band!” insisted Suguru. But the blonde wouldn't listen. Frustrated, the green-haired keyboarder turned to the man beside him, saying earnestly, “Tell him, Hiro, explain to him it’s just stupid!”

Hiro opened his mouth to take up the argument, for Bad Luck was his baby, and even for a TV show, he wouldn’t let Bad Luck become some weird alternative rock Goth freak show. But as he tried to think of a way to tell K that, a way that wouldn’t get him shot, sounds came rushing down the corridor. Hiro sighed—he had a bad feeling he was going to be dressing up like a vampire soon.

The pounding feet, laughter, and squeals got louder, and then two little tornados came hurling in the room in black capes with ridiculous plastic fangs in their mouths. One had bright pink hair, and under his black cape, he was wearing orange shorts and a pale violet top that stopped well above a belly button containing a glittering purple gem. The other made a much more credible vampire with a ruffled shirt and tight satin pants. But the top was powder blue and the pants were sky blue, hardly appropriate for a creature of the night. And surely no self-respecting vampire would carry a stuffed pink rabbit!

“I vant to suck your blood! Kumagora vants to suck you, too!” cried Ryuichi as he cornered the pink-haired vampire in K’s office. Ryuichi swung his arm repetitively, one end of the black cape and the pink bunny in his hand, with the foaming pastel blue ruffles of his poet’s shirt swinging beneath the stuffed animal. The arm arced, and the silly rabbit smacked against the pink mop of hair again and again.

“Oh no, no! I’m being sucked!” moaned the voice that had made Bad Luck so famous.

But it was the voice of THE Ryuichi Sakuma of the legendary Nittle Grasper that cried in a ludicrous German accent, “Suck you! Suck you! Gonna suck you!”

There was a bit of a rush for tissues.

The sight of the blood from three noses made the two vampires turn and lunge at the others in the room, crying together, “Blood! Blood!” But with the ridiculous fangs, it came out more like “Flub! Flub!” Moreover, the two vamps were tickling Suguru’s and Hiro’s stomachs rather than licking up the blood on their lips and chins.


---

Watching this on his monitor, Tohma Seguchi smiled. He was going to make millions—and irritate the hell out of his brother-in-law, who certainly wouldn’t want his lover singing about sucking and being sucked for the entire world. Tohma licked his lips, thinking of that oh-so-sexy man—Eiri Yuki. Now that was a man that could be a vampire: he had that pale skin and suave manner of a master vampire, not to mention the sophistication, the elegance, and the perfection. His skin was as white as the snow he had named himself for, as white as a ghost, or as white as skin that never saw sunshine, never saw daylight. In addition, Eiri had the menace of a dangerous predator, a hunter of the night. Oh yes, Eiri Yuki was a man that could kill. Tohma could see him in a tux—Armani? Dolce and Gabbana? It didn’t matter what designer as long as it fit over that tall, beautiful body. He could see him, so casual, so quiet, all that power and violence leashed in that pale body . . . so ready to explode . . .

The blonde president pulled at the purple tie he was wearing over his black silk shirt. Dear god . . . it was awfully hot in his office. He buzzed his administrative assistant, requesting a pitcher of ice water. But even as he was thanking the lovely young woman and drinking the expensive mineral water, his mind was focused on one thing: How could he get to see Yuki in a tux?

He inhaled deeply and the lingering perfume in the air from his assistant made him think of Mika. Yes! His wife, his darling wife . . . she would love her brother to come with her to the Vamp Cave to watch Bad Luck perform.

Dammit, Ryuichi was not going to mess this up! Nittle Grasper was NOT going to compete—it would be unfair as he was the president of N-G. Nittle Grasper was not doing yet another reunion concert, no way. But if Ryuichi was invited by Bad Luck to perform with them . . . hmmm . . . no, best not to leave it up to that trio!

Tohma cleared his throat and activated the system that let everyone in the N-G building hear him—well, everyone except those actually recording something at this very moment. “I am happy to announce that Bad Luck along with special guest Ryuichi Sakuma has won the contest. They will be performing the winning song, “Suck You,” at the Vamp Cave . . . in one week!”


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“. . . in one week!”

Hiro and Suguro looked at each other in horror, paling. This was a nightmare! How were they going to come up with a song in just a week . . . a song called “Suck You”?

“Suck you, I’m going to suck you!” sang two amazing voices . . .

“Late at night when you’re in bed, you’re going to get a visit from the living dead . . . and I’m going to bite you, bite you on your neck . . .” sang Ryuichi

“. . . bite deep, not just a peck . . .” came Shu’s voice, soaring over Ryu’s. “Little one, you’re my prey. When I sleep throughout the day . . .”

“ . . . I’m dreaming of the darkest night . . .”

“I’m going to suck you! Suck you!” they sang together.

Hiro grabbed his guitar and began to improvise. Suguru was playing something on the table, his figures forming chords and melodies although no sound was coming, of course, from the polished wood. But K soon had a little keyboard under his fingers and the recorder going, so they could listen to what they had and refine it.

“Feel my fangs,” came from the soaring voice that was beloved the world over.

“. . . sinking into your skin . . .” cut in Shuichi, always determined to outdo the older singer.

The sound filled the small office, too much for the little room, spilling into the hallway. Already people were gathering there, entranced. Oh, yes, these little vampires both had voices that reached not just your ears, but your whole body, mind, and heart!

“I’m gonna suck you! Suck you!”

There was going to be blood . . . lots of blood . . . gushing over lips, over chins, down necks over skin white as any ghost’s . . .

Moe heaven, Moe to factor of 1,000 . . . fangirls fainting and bleeding . . . K rubbed his hand across his face, smearing himself with blood. He was going to have to buy more bullets and up security . . . this could be even bigger than the international success of “Red Ties of Love.”


---


“Isn’t it wonderful, Yuki? Aren’t you happy for me?” When the love of his life didn’t answer, just sat there silently on the white couch in the big living room of their apartment, Shuichi felt suddenly nervous. Yuki didn’t look happy at all. He looked cold and deadly.

“Yuki? Y-y-yuki?” Shuichi’s voice faltered and fell silent, and he sank down on his knees before his lover, now desperate for reassurance.

“Sing it,” came the command.

Shu swallowed and tried to sing, but for a moment it was just like that moment when he’d seen Yuki in the audience for the first time. He’d frozen seeing him, how beautiful, how sexy, how cool . . . and he was all that and more right here, right now.

“I . . . I . . .”

An elegant white hand reached up in a gesture that ballet choreographers would weep with joy at, switching off the light. But moonlight spilled in the windows, so that Shuichi could see Yuki dimly. It reminded him of their first time . . . of how Yuki had growled out that Shuichi had better make him come . . . and oh god, he had . . .

Shuichi began to sing, sing for Yuki, singing his love into the words, making them sexual, filling them with his love and desire . . .

Those pale ghostly hands moved in the dark undoing one button, then the next . . .

Shuichi began to strip, his voice still singing out his simmering need . . . his want . . . his desire . . . his goal . . .

And before him was what had changed his life, that snow-white body and that cock bold and beautiful, flushed with blood, pulsing with desire. He had to suck him, had to . . . but he wanted to sing . . . and licking and singing and sucking, Shuichi worshipped that white body.

“Suck me, yes,” hissed Yuki, his command needless for his lover was sucking, was working his tongue and lips and throat with the virtuoso command several years of voice training could bring. It didn’t matter a damn bit to Yuki; all he cared was that it was Shuichi sucking him, his Shuichi and no other. No one but him would ever experience Shuichi, and he would never ever let anyone but his Shu touch him like this . . . suck him like this . . .

“For every time you sing that song, you better suck me, suck me deep and drain me . . .”

Shuichi moaned around the cock in his mouth, feeling his orgasm coming . . .

Yes, yes, he would sing that song, sing it again and again . . . and make his Yuki cry out for him, spill inside him . . .

“After I come, you’re going stay on your knees until my cock hardens in your mouth; then I’m going to fuck you, Shuichi, spread your legs and sink my cock deep in your ass . . .”

There weren’t any words after that for a long, long time . . .

One week later the number one single was Bad Luck's "Suck You."