Of hierarchies, games and tables

Category Fanfiction
Subcategory Smut
Rating R
Allow Additions No


Disclaimer: I don’t own Gravitation or the characters portrayed within it. I wrote this for fun. I obtain no economic benefit from it whatsoever.

Summary: A bittersweet cocktail with a large twist of LEMON. A strange blend of ingredients in this case. Are you ready for this combination? A short tale of power, acquiescence and obscene desires.


A/N: This is a special present for the great author of many fics, her masterpiece being Yuki at the moment. Mirai Aira this is a lemon dedicated to you, since you are the other person I know that is just as interested and excited about a lemon on this pairing as me! It’s quite long and I hope it makes an amusing read ^_^ Aira, don’t skim-read! I’ve put an incredible amount of effort to making each and every paragraph, line and word count and have some meaning, pretty please?


Warning: It may be OOC compared to series and manga; but... it’s not too far fetched, just open to interpretation! I hope... Who cares about OOC? It’s a lemon! >_<
It’s the first proper lemon *I* see on the pairing (and trust me I have looked...). So for the sake of a properly varied and full of whacky possibilities Gravitation fandom, and the joy of just pure and upfront smut, I wrote this lemon, with a twist ~_^. I hope you all enjoy it, be adventurous and do give it a try!



* OF HIEARCHIES, GAMES AND TABLES *
__________________________________________




The platinum blonde sat at his office desk admiring the strange shades and hues of his terribly rare and expensive table. Since the time he was a child he had fallen in love with his mother’s piano case made out of Brazilian Rosewood. Esteemed for centuries as one of the finest woods in the world for high-class furniture, cabinetry, and paneling, Rosewood, the Brazilian type over the Indian or the African ones, was extremely pricey and sought after. And right in front of him lay a beautiful example of this beauteous wood, variegated in brown to violet-colored tinges with irregular black streaks in enchanting patterns. It was the preferred wood for highly refined guitars and had, for a few years now, been classified as an endangered species, but he had contacts and had made use of them in order to obtain this magnificent specimen; money wasn’t a problem for the president of NG Records. Tohma had been infatuated with this table since its arrival to Japan, especially delivered for him. He had been very protective of it and had spoiled it with attention and care. The blonde had guarded it from direct sunlight and observed how the tones of the grainy and naturally oily wood had altered with the passage of time. It was his little baby and wasn’t really put to much use; it was for admiring its exquisiteness only, and he kept it empty as the centre piece of his retirement office. He took a cashmere glove off and ran a delicate hand over the hard, smooth surface, his fingers gliding along it, and he hissed. So fucking perfect.


Knock, knock.


“Seguchi-san?” A soft voice called from the other side of the door.


“Please come in.”


The door opened and a young man stepped in timidly.


“Would you mind turning the Do not disturb sign on the door please?” Tohma asked in his sing-song voice.


The vocalist did as he was told and stood by the now closed door, a bit fidgety on his feet; he was in the king’s private chambers after all.


“Come. Take a seat.” Tohma beckoned him to the chair in front of him and Shuichi sat down in the cushioned chair, feeling engulfed by its plushiness.


“I hear you still haven’t finished recording the new album even though it’s two weeks overdue now,” Tohma spoke in his usual melodious manner, the tone never betraying his true feelings.


“It’s my voice sir,” whispered the singer, blushing mildly.


“What’s wrong with it?”


“I... I don’t know. It’s just not as good as usually. I don’t seem to be able to achieve the desired tones...”


“I don’t think I quite get what you are saying Shindou-san.” Tohma offered with a smile. “You are going to have to sing for me.”


“What? Now? Here?” asked Shuichi, a bit befuddled.


Tohma merely nodded that slow nod of his, resting his chin on his gloved hand. His bare right hand was still gently caressing thetroutrous table.


Shuichi understood it was no joke and he cleared his throat. He took a few shallow, practiced breaths and parted his lips to sing. The words flowed out of his mouth with ease but after a few verses his pitch got too high. It wasn’t unpleasant to hear, but he could do much better, and they both knew it. He stopped and sighed.


“I don’t know why. I just don’t seem to be able to tone it down without going out of key.”


“Relax. You worry too much by nature. Do you see me worried, Shindou-san? The sales for the previous album are still doing well. There is no hurry. We won’t rush it.” Tohma smiled candidly. “Now, try this. Relax. Take deep slow breaths through your nose and exhale the air out of your mouth, slowly. Take your time getting ready.”

Shuichi did as instructed.


“Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to. Just relax,” commanded the blonde. As soon as Shuichi complied, he grinned roguishly and his eyes glinted elfishly; Shuichi was so naïve, so easily manipulated, at least he liked to play that roll. Well, Tohma would play along.


“It’s very important that you listen to me. Do you understand? This is the same method Ryuichi used to control his voice. Do keep your eyes closed and relax your whole body.”

Tohma brought his right hand down to his pants and started caressing himself in between his legs and over his 200,000 yen Armani trousers as he watched the young singer breathing. How he loved playing with himself like this, hidden behind the sturdy t, kn, knowing that the person in front of him could notice the change of tempo in his breathing, or the rosiness of his cheeks, or maybe even the slight movement of his shoulder if he got a bit carried away. But of course, the ever-professional Tohma wouldn’t stoop as low as to masturbate in front of others; that was unconceivable.

Fools.

But, he was trying something different today. With Shuichi’s eyes closed, he could venture to do bolder things and trust Shuichi to do as he was told and keep his eyes shut. The air was completely silent apart from the singer’s quite breathing. Tohma now had a painful hard on bulging out of his trousers and wondered how he could unzip them without raising any suspicions.


“Shuichi,” he said, using the singer’s first name. After all he was about to jerk off in front of him; might as well get familiar. That was his first clue.


“Are you relaxed now?”


“Mmmh hmm,” answered the singer without breaking his respiration pattern.


Damn. He had a voice of silk, and that tranquil murmur was even more alluring. Tohma was sure the singer sounded fucking wonderful in bed and his penis twitched under his expensive garments.


“Sing now, then, if you please.” Tohma parted his legs slightly, getting more comfortable. He listened as Shuichi commenced singing once more, and he slid the zip down with practiced ease, taking his hard member in his hand. He inhaled sharply and noticed how Shuichi’s concentration was momentarily disrupted.


He cleared his throat. “Relax, Shuichi. Just think of the lyrics and let your soul take over,” he said with a now composed voice, even as he started pumping himself slowly. Tohma watched Shuichi’s moving mouth in a trance. Oh gods... how he wished for those supple lips to wrap around his cock. He brought his gloved hand to hold his belt to stop it from jingling as he got up from the leather chair, still working at himself. The tall blonde walked around the table and towards Shuichi. He stood next to the singer, alpine and valiant, the fearful feeling of being caught still warping his intestines, delivering a rush of adrenaline to his brain and at the same time making him so fucking aroused.


Tohma turned the singing Shuichi around in his chair.


“Don’t stop,” he whispered.


The lean blonde brought his stiff member right to Shuichi’s face, trying not to give into temptation and thrust it down the boy’s throat. One wrong move and he would brush it against Shuichi... so goddamn exciting... because he still wasn’t sure...

The image of his glistening rod sliding along his hand oh so impossibly close to those pink, unaware lips was becoming too much to handle. How he craved to feel that tongue swirling around his bell-end... If he kept these fantasies up, he was sure to spurt his cum all over the singer’s face. Tohma threw his head back and smiled; what a beautiful sight that would make: fine strings of silver joining the boy’s face to his spent manhood and trickling down his chin.

Shit.

There!


He was so close, so, so close... Fuck. He bit down on his lower lip, bruising it, trying not to moan. With an effort worthy of his éclat, he stopped. Drawing his breath out through his nose as silently as possible, he caressed Shuichi’s face with his gloved hand, not minding the sound of his belt or what he was about to say next for he had seen it. It was masterfully hidden, but it had reared its obscene head as clear as broad daylight during the blink of an eye. Shuichi *had* brought his deck with him, too. It was about time. Tohma smiled.

“You are so beautiful, Shuichi. Is Eiri aware of the effect you have on other men as you heedlessly flaunt yourself around?” Tohma whispered in the vocalist’s ear.

“Are you?” He cooed.


The man susurrating in his ears smelled of vanilla pods and ground cinnamon, Shuichi’s throat went dry like sand paper, and he breathed in the mouth watering scent of the older man.


Shuichi fell silent but kept his eyes closed, for maybe if he did, he could just pretend that all this wasn’t really happening, that he hadn’t heard right, that he hadn’t noticed the blonde’s bizarre behavior or the short and erratic, but nearly silent, breaths, or that distinctive sweet smell that invaded his nostrils when Tohma turned him around.


So... the game was finally up. The cards were on the table, and it was time to start the betting. Was he going to gamble?


Shuichi’s heartbeat was hurried, and his blood pulsated in his temples. Seguchi Tohma was a very imposing character. Manipulative to unimaginable extents and yet so subtle the clever blonde was. The fine haired man was refined and elegant in his actions and words, inciting fear and respect in the hearts of those he knew without the need to issue a single threat.


A calculated look, that enigmatic, sickening, sweet smile of his, that almost feminine voice with which he spoke, were all that was required to bring the most obstinate of men groveling at his feet.ichiichi had never seen anything like it. His boss was extremely powerful and much aware of his dominion.
Even the almighty Yuki Eiri couldn’t say no to Tohma.


He was the closest thing to a God on Earth and Shuichi had long ago found himself desiring to touch the mystical man, to know what it was like to be the object of desire of such a sovereign. He fantasized about what it would be like to see the omnipotent deity lost in desire and beyond redemption, begging to be pleasured, submissive.


“But of course you are aware, you little trickster. Do you secretly want me, too, Shu-chan? Is that why you won’t open your eyes? Are you afraid to admit it?” The blonde licked along Shuichi’s ead nid nibbled on his ear lobe, causing a wave of heat to rise up the singer’s body flushing his cheeks to a deep crimson. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed, and Tohma smirked. Suddenly, he felt his hardness being enveloped by dainty, yet resolute fingers, an indescribable liquid heat, and he couldn’t hold back a loud moan. Shuichi had opened his eyes and was staring right into his; how bold, how brave. He had seized him and was suckling on the tip of his oozing slit. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected the younger man to be quite so daring.


“What if I did, huh? What then? I’m not afraid of you,” he said smiling, looking at him lopsidedly and delivering a squeeze that made the tall man go weak in the knees.

“Who wants who, Seguchi-san?” It was his turn to coo.


Shuichi swallowed wholwhole, and Tohma gasped when he hit the back of the singer’s throat, burying his fingers in the singer’s head unconsciously, pulling and shaking as he struggled to keep his wits about him, but to no avail. His hips bucked against the slippery tunnel. It was so deep, so hot, so humid and so soft... He bucked his hips again.

“Aah...”


Shuichi may have been young but behind the childish façade did, indeed, hide a manipulative soul. Sweet childish grins, readily teary violet eyes, little pretty pouts practiced to perfection were all that was required to bring the most obstinate of men groveling at his feet. Shuichi, too, was very powerful and much aware of his dominion.
Even the almighty Yuki Eiri couldn’t say no to Shuichi.


Different personalities and different tactics, but they both played the same game and they both played it to win, with one sole purpose: to always get their way in life.

Tohma smiled and yanked Shuichi’s hair, tilting his head up without hurting him and leaving the desired trail of saliva between his slit and Shuichi’uth.uth.

“I knew it,” he said simply, bringing their lips together, yielding flesh upon yielding flesh. Tohma rimmed his tongue along Shuichi’s bottom lip gently; he tasted both himself and Shuichi there. It was just as wonderful as he imagined it would be. Even better. Addictive.

“Mmhh...”


The younger man opened his lips slowly and tongues intertwined outside their mouths. The kiss was far from fierce however; it was lazy and sweet, extremely sensual. Kissing Tohma was like eating hot marshmallows, pleasantly warm, deliciously creamy, and sugary.


Tohma pulled Shuichi’s hair making him stand up, and he turned him against his precious table, pinning him against it. He pressed his nose to the back of the vocalist’s hair, inhaling the strawberry scent and burying his throbbing erection in the crook of Shuichi’s clothed ass. Shuichi, in turn, pressed against him harder, placing his hands on the table, rubbing up and down against the blonde and throwing his head back hitting Tohma’s shoulder, his mouth ajar. His boss reached down and pulled his shirt up, running his hand along the expanse of his chest, breathing heavily.

Who wanted who now, huh?


Tohma turned him around once more, and Shuichi propped himself up on the table, smiling playfully and kicking his legs about like a child. The blonde took his shoes off and proceeded to slip the singer’s trousers off slowly, letting them fall down into a heap on the floor. Shuichi’s cock flung out, erect like a flag pole.


Tohma stepped back, gaping; he couldn’t peel his eyes off the boy. He was gorgeously feminine but most definitely masculine at the same time. He had a flat, firm, hairless chest with soft pink nipples and a tight elongated slit for a navel. His waist was tiny, like a woman’s, but his hips were narrow and lacked the voluptuousness of the woman’s body.


“Do you like what you see?” Shuichi laughed in a recalcitrant manner, the jaded sound echoing off the walls, and he threw his head back. Pink locks swayed back, and the somewhat deranged laughter that was still pouring forth from his lips sent a sharp, cold chill down Tohma’s spine. The blonde shuddered. Shuichi stretched his hand out, reaching for Tohma. His smile faded, and he tilted his head to one side. “Come here. I know exactly what Seguchi-san wants.”


Tohma brought his hand up as if to touch him but stopped in mid air. Shuichi bent forward and slid Tohma’s glove off with his teeth, all the time smiling and leering at the blonde. The singer closed his eyes and caressed himself with the soft glove, starting at his face and bringing it down his neck slowly. He licked his lips and sighed, the glove hovering over his chest, paying special attention to his hard nipples and then all over his stomach. He touched himself along his inner thighs and then pressed feathery like touches around his testicles, all the time gasping and whimpering, his legs spread wide.


It was as though he was showing him where Tohma wanted to touch him, what he wanted to do to Shuichi were that his hand and not a glove. As if saying: “You want to do this to me. I’m your temptation, the key that will forever ban you from heaven.” He knew Tohma’s eyes were on him, and inside, Shuichi celebrated his victory. He opened his eyes; Tohma hadn’t made to move and was just ogling; maybe he shouldn’t sell the wool before he sheared his sheep.


“You little harlot,” was Tohma’s teeth-clenched reply to Shuichi’s erotic display.


Shuichi laughed again. Or maybe he should; he’d have made a good businessman, too. Tohma grabbed Shuichi’s arms and pulled them either side of him on the table and then stripped the singer’s shirt open, ripping the buttons off as he slid it halfway down his arms.


Shuichi just kept laughing mockingly. How he wanted to stop the smirking singer! He allowed his lips to roam along Shuichi’s throat, that slender throat which produced sirens’ melodies, metallic laughter and now that Tohma was licking it, exquisite moans. Shuichi wrapped his legs around the blonde, but making no further contact.


Yes, maybe Shuichi was right. Maybe Seguchi Tohma did want to surrender to him and maybe, just maybe, he would succumb and yield. The prospect of handing over his supremacy was more tempting than he may care to admit. But of course Tohma The Great wouldn’t hand his jeweled crown over without a fight, not even to his most Noble Man, no matter how heroic or gallant he happened to be.


“On your knees,” Tohma commanded.


Shuichi laughed once more, and shook his head from side to side, as if in reprimand.


“Stubborn creature, but I’ll do as you wish, my lord,” Shuichi played along. He turned, resting his body on his knees and forearms on the Rosewood table.

“For now,” he added with a smile. “I now you are bluffing—aah.” His teasing was quickly silenced as Tohma whirled his tongue around his tight rosebud. The vocalist’s head dropped with a thud on the wooden table; defiant Shuichi was as good as gone to the world now. Tohma parted the plump cheeks with his thumbs and rammed his tongue into Shuichi’s entrance, delectating in the sounds of pleasure that emanated from the singer’s mouth. The blonde ventured the tip of his thumb in, making Shuichi whimper and tremble.


“Please, Tohma, don’t make me beg.”


It was Tohma’s turn to laugh; their laughter ring tone was disturbingly similar.


“You already, did little Shou aou already did.”


He licked Shuichi again, from his sac all along the indentation between his buttocks, tracing circles around his ring and plunging his tongue in and out and around and around, making Shuichi’s vocal chords vibrate in the way Tohma had only dared to dream of hearing.


“Oh yes, just like that. Just how I imagined. Louder for me, little Shu, louder.”


Shuichi in turn stifled his cries, nantianting to give into Tohma’s commands, even if he himself wanted to scream until his throat went raw.


Obstinate child. “Stay where you are.”


Tohma walked around and retrieved a vial with lube from a draw; he had definitely predicted such an outcome. Shuichi had to wonder if the blonde had been counting cards, he must be cheating. He coated his length and fingers thickly with the cold liquid and he couldn’t help but shake with anticipation. Shuichi moved over and positioned himself at the edge of the table, leaving enough space for Tohma to climb behind him. The blonde slid two of his digits inside Shuichi, no questions asked, and Shuichi screamed in what Tohma knew was pure ecstasy.


“Damn you, Tohma! This is not how you are supposed to play your cards! There are rules...” Shuichi’s body betrayed his words as he drove himself deeper against those probing fingers.

“Gnnh... nnh.”


“Yes, Shuichi, my rules.” Tohma pulled his fingers out and entered the singer in one swift move. The tight, scorching sensation nearly made him cum right there and then and a myriad of colors exploded deep inside their core. They rocked slowly at first; their movements sluggish, as though moving through thick, hot tar.

“You are so tight, little Shu, so... tight... just... so... –thrust- fucking- thrust perfect.”

Tohma’s head sank into Shuichi’s back, and the blonde lapped along his spine slowly, making Shuichi’s hair stand on end. Tohma was now biting and kissing him gently, enjoying every inch of the singer’s lightly tanned skin. Shuichi’s cheek was against the table. He was dribbling slightly on it and looked at Tohma through half-lidded eyes.


Tohma cocked his head to the side; he’d never seen anything more beautiful. The shocking pink strands complimented the auburn and black streaks of his table perfectly and that sweet boy’s face was contorted in an expression of extreme pleasure... or pain. But, he knew it was pleasure because of the bone-chilling sounds he was making.


“Scream for me, little Shu. Beg me to release you of the ache, the torture in your gut, mmh? Don’t you want me to caress you like this? I want to hear you scream.” Tohma seized Shuichi’s erection and gave it a couple of pullyully slow strokes that made Shuichi convulse in ecstasy. As he cried out a translucent tear escaped his eye and slid to the table. He fisted his hands. Tohma let go and the singer whined at the sudden loss of touch, but he would not beg. Instead, he brought his own hand up to release himself, but Tohma stopped him and held both the singer’s hands against his own back, letting Shuichi’s body rest on his cheek and knees only.


“There is no way you are going to spill yourself all –over- my- table.” He punctuated each word with a deep, slow thrust that had Shuichi wailing in no time. It sounded so much like crying; it looked so much like crying, too.


Shuichi was on the edge of orgasm and he thought he was going mad with desire. His whole body ached but, he knew that when Tohma said something, he meant it. He pulled himself down to lie on the table, the movement so fast and unexpected that Tohma found himself thrusting against air. Before he could blink, Shuichi had turned around and was all over him. They fell back on the table and Shuichi kissed Tohma desperately, hungrily and everywhere. He was driven by blind passion and lust.


He kissed his lips, his neck, his chest, his navel, his hip bone... and Tohma shivered. Was this the time to surrender? The frantic kissing slowed down gradually, and now, Shuichi was kissing his closed eyelids sweetly. Tohma teetered like a bird under the tender touch.


thatthat Shuichi had turned around, it wis tis turn to get an eye-full of his partner. Shuichi was surprised to find Tohma was so... so breathtakingly ethereal in his naked beauty. He was tall and slender with delicately sculptured limbs to match. His skin was velvety to the touch and creamy to the eye, faultless. His hair, where Shuichi had now buried his hands, was silky and so very light it was almost as white as his ivory skin in the wan light of the room. Those seemingly warm eyes had never held such a captivating glint in their glazed teal depths. He was eerily beautiful and truly resembled a fallen angel in every way imaginable. Shuichi observed the hands that reached out to caress his face; they were delicate, but with long and strong fingers, like those of a piano virtuoso or a harp player. How very fitting.

“Shuichi...”

Tohma’s head was close to the edge of the table, and he let it hang off it, the blood rushing to his head making him dizzy, and he grunted.


“Ssshhh. You know you want this Tohma. That’s why you came to me. You it. it.” Shuichi put his hands over Tohma’s and brought them down on either side of the blonde’s head, lacing their fingers together tenderly as he rubbed his cheek against Tohma’s. Somewhere in the backed of his confused mind Tohma heard Shuichi fumble with something.


Tohma bit his lower lip and nodded almost imperceptibly. Shuichi spread Tohma’s thighs, and the blonde had never felt more vulnerable, more defenseless; the drawbridge was down and the moat dry. And he liked it. It was exhilarating. It gave him a rush of adrenaline to feel so exposed, so powerless. It was twisted, he knew, but supreme power turns into a plebeian thing after a while. He had stopped being challenged for some time now, except for Shuichi, but the singer defied him in an unexpected manner. He had to read between the lines constantly and now... now he felt the tip of Shuichi’s gel coated arousal pressing against him, and he was thrilled beyond all expectations. He felt like Aslan, the lion of Narnia, and he was at the stone table, bound in ropes, by his own choice, and at the mercy of the evil queen’s dagger and faithful fiends.


Except Shuichi wasn’t evil. He couldn’t be; it was against his very nature. The singer was careful and entered him slowly; it was painful and Tohma shut his eyes tightly.

Did he really want this?


When a jolt of fire shot through him his eyes flung open, and he got his answer; his aquamarines ses suddenly became as white as his skin when they rolled into the back of his skull. It was a feeling akin to no other he’d experienced before. It was pleasure in its purest form every time Shuichi hit a certain spot inside him. Jolts of electricity raked through his body, and everything was blindingly white. He felt as though he’d been ripped open in half, all of him exposed to the little man atop him. It was deplorable, but he enjoyed every pathetic second of it. He was being taken, he was being had, he was being made.


Shuichi was now nipping his collar bone and neck softly, and his hands held him firm by the hips, digging into the supple flesh delicately. Shuichi had made his way all the way in, all the way to the hilt, and the blonde gasped and writhed and bucked against him, below him, moaning deep in his throat, completely lost in this new feeling. He arched his back off the table so much he thought he’d snap in half and Shuichi kissed his Adam’s apple, soothing him and bringing the pace down. The blonde knew how desperate and unholy he must have seemed at that very moment, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be small, to be controlled, to be humiliated.


Never before had the vocalist felt such a sensation himself. It was incredibly tight and blistering hot down there, white hot. The singer felt powerful, omnipotent in fact. He could do anything just by willing it: move mountains, switch off the sun, control the celestial bodies, bring an angel to his knees; anything.

Right now, he was God.

Not Tohma, him.

The walls around him pressed down on him. All was hot around him, all was flames around him, fire everywhere, consuming his very soul. God had descended to the pits of hell himself.

Shuichi was trying to control himself and was pleading somewhere in the back of his mind for it not to be over so soon, and he entwined their fingers together once more. Tohma’s breath came in short, rapid intakes of air through his parted lips. The stabs kept coming at him, and he took them with legs wide open, with his heart wide open, all of him exposed.

But it was not humiliating. It was reliving, it was supernatural; it was wonderful.


The pink haired man looked right into Tohma’s eyes, unblinking, and for a moment there were only two pairs of liquid pools reflecting each other, incredibly hot flushed skin and the sweet, sweet pleasure of it all. No, this was not hell. This was heaven.


Every thing felt so surreal just then. When had this bizarre game turned into something serious?

Why did he suddenly feel this affinity with Shuichi?

Why did it feel so much like... like making love?

Shuichi was extremely careful and loving. How could this be?


But it made it all the more intense. He trembled, and so did Shuichi; goose bumps invaded their naked skin, and they were transported to another dimension. An infinite plane of boundless pleasure and bliss, an endless sweet torture they didn’t want to end, where lava traveled their veins and all was soft around them, like white cotton clouds.


But the heavens like to remind their children of their shortcomings, and they soon felt the wave of climax that started tickling their very toes and whooshed up their legs, past their groin and exploded in their mind. Sensing this, Shuichi reached down in between their sweat-beabodibodies to stroke the blonde. He heard himself and Tohma’s sounds of pleasure as though he were listening to the most endearing music, angels coming to the culmination of their sin.


Moaning and panting Tohma came first, feeling as every spilled white drop drained some of his pride as it shot everywhere, making their stomachs all the more slick. Their bodies were still gliding against each other, smearing the musky fluid all over one another. Shuichi followed with his head buried in the crook of the blonde’s neck, their hands intertwined so strongly they shook.


No words were exchanged. No words were needed.


God certainly works in mysterious ways.


~*~*~*~


Tohma sat at his Rosewood table admiring the lovely shades and little new details he had found on the pattern of the wood.


Knock knock.


“Seguchi-san?” A soft voice called from the other side of the door.


“Please come in.”


The door opened and a young man stepped in timidly.


“Would you mind turning the Do not disturb sign on the door please?” Tohma asked in his sing-song voice.


The vocalist did as he was told and stood by the now closed door, a bit fidgety on his feet; he was in the king’s private chambers after all.


“Come. Take a seat.” Tohma beckoned him to the chair in front of him and Shuichi sat down in the cushioned chair, feeling engulfed by its plushiness.


“I hear you still haven’t finished recording the new album even though it’s many weeks overdue now.” Tohma spoke, but his usual melodious tone wasn’t with him that day. Something betrayed his feelings and his voice quavered slightly.


“It’s my voice, sir,” whispered the singer, almost inaudibly.


“What’s wrong with it?” Tohma stared right into Shuichi’s deep violet eyes.


“I... I don’t know. It’s just not as good as usually. I don’t seem to be able to achieve the desired tones...” Shuichi held his meaningful gaze.


“I don’t think I quite get what you are saying, Shindou-san.” Tohma smiled small and took a deep breath. “You are going to have to sing for me,” he added with a little effort, and he closed his eyes, holding his breath in.


“What? Now? Here?” asked Shuichi not in the least befuddled.


“You’ll have to stand up though. It’s not good singing sitting down. Your lungs don’t have the same capacity that way.” Tohma got up and walked around the table, standing next to Shuichi. He pulled him up gently from the chair, and the singer leered at him. Tohma tugged him closer and kissed his temple lightly. That simple gesture carried so much sentiment and meaning. Tohma inhaled deeply as did Shuichi when the other held his hand and caressed his fingers gently. Tohma shivered.


This was the game they played. It had been so since that first time. A game where hierarchies were reversed, and the queen of the hive collected the nectar for the honey while the worker bee lay the eggs. A game where roles were exchanged and the play went on regardless, without surprises, for they were the audience of their own contest.


But was it a game anymore?


“No more games Shuichi, please. No more games,” Tohma whispered in defeatShuiShuichi’s ear. His tone was desperate and intense.

“Please,” the blonde pleaded once more.

He brushed his lips against Shuichi’s soft temple again, barely a kiss.


Had he just trembled? Was he still breathing?

When had the tables turned?

That day upon a Rosewood table.


~Owari~


Seeing you got this far and it\'s such an unusual pairing, why don\'t you drop a review? Thankies, my first post in this site!