By: Araki

Chapter Rating: MA

Summary: Eiri Yuki is suffering from writer’s block. No matter what he does, he can’t seem to write, so he decides to take some ‘off’ time, to get off with his unsuspecting lover.

Pairing: Eiri x Shuichi

It just wasn’t him to be at this state of realization, the intense boredom, yearning to continue what he was paid to do. He, Eiri Yuki, was not some writer you’d find on the net. It was common sense that one would think he was the genius of words, what he thought could be written in words. Well, he knew what he wanted the write, the problem was, once he started writing, he’d become furious and delete the sentence. That was it, the proof around him was pointing in one direction. Eiri Yuki had writers block two weeks from the deadline. The one time he decided it would be okay to procrastinate at, he was screwed.

Standing up, he pulled a cigarette out of it’s pack, replacing the box in his breast pocket before starting out into the living room to watch some television, maybe that would get the epinephrine running through his system. Any thoughts that he had not done before, none came, and he was left staring at the television as an anime came on. It’s contents did not stimulate him, or encourage his curiosity – for what he could see, it was a lame plot that would never happen in anyone’s life. Really, magically powers and talking cats? Not to mention all the pink hearts around her, it looked like something Shuichi would come up with in his free time.

Speaking of which, the thought of Shuichi made him smile. The pink haired baka was really something (not like he would ever say so out loud). At first, the boy was merely a helpful thorn in his side to get rid of people he didn’t want around him. Now, the boy was something that warmed the other side of the bed. Of course, when he did get to take the boy, he always had an imaginative mind to think of and miraculous lines for his story. He didn’t suffer then.

Where was that brat now? He stared around, trying to remember if there was anything important the boy had to go off and do. It was a weekend, so Shuichi wasn’t at work (if one called that work), and Hiro was at some family reunion so he was not an answer. Suguru, if in the right mind, wouldn’t want Shuichi over, nor would any of the other associates with the Bad Luck band. So that took off a good list of people Shuichi would hang around with on the bright Saturday morning.

Last would be Ryuichi. That seemed more likely that the pink haired singer was hanging around with his idol and the pink…rabbit. Maybe at the park, Ryuichi pushing the toy in a swing, or maybe the three went out for ice cream. Maybe I’m assuming wrong, and Shuichi’s just torture some other simpleton with his mindless babble.

Why was he even wondering where the boy had disappeared off to? Did he really care? Yuki took a drag from his cigarette, staring at the television again. No, he didn’t care. The quiet was all he needed to…write his story. Hanging his head in shame, Yuki stood back up, walking into his office to once more write (if he was lucky).

Upon sitting in front of the flashing word pad, his screen savor had come up more times then it had flashed to get his attention, Yuki finally put his hands on the keyboard. In an unusually slow motion of his usual typing skills, he wrote out four words, realized they made no sense with the rest of his story, and once more deleted the said grouping. Maybe he could start from scratch, and that would help him? No, he couldn’t do that. He already written seven chapters before this happened; he couldn’t just get rid of them so far. He was just…out of ideas.

Maybe he could give the protagonist a puppy and say the end. Then, he could sit back and watch his sales drop. Yep, that would make him happy. Who was he fooling? This was driving him crazy. Crushing his cigarette in the ashtray, he sat back, smirking as the door opened.

“Yuki! I’m home!” When had his home ever become the baka’s? In what world did he give permission for Shuichi to ever call it his home? Watching the pink haired boy bringing the bag of groceries into the kitchen, humming a tune. That was right, he kept the boy because it was the only way he actually grew lucky to eat without Tohma being in his kitchen wearing an apron. Shuichi in one was a better picture. Nodding, he turned back to his screen before remembering why he hated himself that day, shutting his computer down. He gave up, it won.

Walking into the kitchen, he leaned again the doorframe to watch as Shuichi stretched his lithe body to put boxed food in a cabinet. The shirt he was wearing (that Yuki swore was made for a child half the boy’s age) was riding up, showing his pale back as he dropped his arm and pulled a chair to stand on, never noticing the man that watched him with amusement. Climbing up, he put the box away, and Yuki decided to make his presence known by walking up to the boy and wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist. He received a surprised gasp, but didn’t stop his wandering hands as he brought them up the boy’s small shirt and up to his chin.

Shuichi fell back into his lover’s extended arms, his head turned and Yuki captured his lips. Shuichi couldn’t contain the gasps that escaped his lips. The breaking of his lips was enough for Yuki to move his tongue in and map out the boy’s mouth before pressing Shuichi back against the counter as he ravished the boy’s mouth. It was a part of their kissing that Shuichi perched himself around Yuki, pulling him closer for more kisses. As they pulled apart, the need for oxygen great, he saw the boy’s eyes already clouded with lust, lips already swelling from the rough kiss. Delectable at it’s best.

Attaching his mouth upon Shuichi’s neck, he sucked upon the skin – every few seconds pulling away to lick the wound. It was a ritual, when they had sex, he had to mark the boy, let the fans know their meaningless dreams were too farfetched for the truth. He owned Shuichi Shindou in every way – sexually, mentally, and physically.

He was starting to hurt the boy, he could tell because Shuichi latched onto his ear, refusing to let go, pink tongue darting out the play with the skin, causing Yuki to press their hips together in an agonizing friction. Leaving his lips from the mark he made on the boy’s neck, he stared over his work as he pressed his body further near Shuichi’s, hands sliding up his lithe shirt, teasing the nipples. His other hand reached back towards the scissors on the counter, coming back to cut the annoying layer off the boy. As the first layer of thread snapped, and Shuichi let out a cry of anger as his shirt was ripped from his body.

Thrusting his hips against the pink haired singer, the argument ceased and the two shared another heated kiss. Shuichi wrapped his arms around Yuki’s neck arching his hips as the hands that worked their way from his pink hair, down to his nipples (tweaking both with torturous movements), down to his navel with a sensitive tickle, and towards the button of the boy’s blue jeans. Breaking the kiss, Yuki thrusted his hips up, rubbing his hard erection against the singer’s with a pop of the jeans button. Reaching in, he administered a playful tug upon the fine hairs of Shuichi’s base, a devious laugh in the boy’s ear. “Commando, Shuichi? I thought you knew better…” Yuki smiled, seeing a faint blush form on the boy’s baby like face.

Tugging the boy’s stiff member out of the compounds of Shuichi’s pants, he smiled at the boy’s stained face as the lavender eyes closed, not daring to look at the man playing with him. He thrusted up, voice unable to escape as Yuki wrapped his hands around his cock, giving a small tug. Shuichi’s head fell back, never wanting to open his eyes as warm lips pressed against his jaw, not biting, but leaving harsh kisses against the skin until both moaned softly. Yuki’s concealed cock thrusted once more against Shuichi’s, allowing a friction that had the singer withering in his arms.

“Yuki, please…” Shuichi whined, his head falling back as another wave of pleasure shot up his spine. “I need you…”

“You always need me.” Yuki muttered in his usual arrogant tone.

“Please, Yuki, take me…” Shuichi whined, throwing his head back in passion as Yuki pressed against his hips again, almost catching him in pinnacle. Pulling away, Yuki looked over the sweat-soaked body before him. Truly delectable, and all his. A pink flush on the singer’s face, soft moans escaping his lips that only he could hear. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was one lucky bastard to snag the fish bellow him when he had the chance. His own personal fuck, one that only belonged to him. Who was Yuki to lie about Shuichi being his possession?

Loosening his belt, and with a sliding of his pant button, the article fell to his ankle leaving his arms free to push Shuichi back and pull his hole in a better angle for access. Turning his head, he smiled at a bag that had been disregarded beside them since Shuichi started putting groceries away. They had been out of butter, hadn’t they? Searching its reaches, he found at no sight of the fatty substance, but smiled sadistically at a better choice. Reaching in, he pulled out a bottle of yogurt, staring at Shuichi as the boy paled realizing what the cold treat would be used for.

Ripping the seal from the top, he dipped his finger in the fruit coldness, smiled at the goo as it fell from his finger, just what he needed. Bringing his sticky, wet fingers to Shuichi’s puckered opening, he pressed his finger in, grinning at the yelp the boy gave the minute the could touched the sensitive skin. Easing his finger into the tight fit, he started pressing to fit in the next; all while his eyes fell upon the boy at his mercy. He knew the boy was ready for him, but he was planning on doing this all right. If he were lucky, the poor pink haired baka would limp to work tomorrow, unable to dance or be his cheerful self.

As he stretched the boy to completion, he could tell Shuichi was becoming impatient with the wait, his hyperactive side once more returning, every few minutes he’d fidget. Once more, he reached for the warming treat, taking a small amount and placing it on his own stiff dick, a small groan escaping his lips. Damn, it was cold. Yet, he could warm it up, a small boy was offering the heat, might as well take it. Pressing the tip of his stiff erection to the boy’s entrance, he slammed in, pressing his lips firmly to Shuichi’s lips. The windows were opened, no point to let pedestrians passing by know he was fucking someone – that was his business alone. Besides, Shuichi was loud in sex; they were bound to hear it later anyway.

Removing his lips from the boy, he repositioned the two of them on the counter, proud of his height that they could do that type of thing. As Shuichi wiggled his hips, telling Yuki that he was ready, the blonde was well prepared as he pulled out, thrusting back in as quickly as he had done upon penetration. Rocking his hips, he pulled in and out of the boy, slamming his angle into the singer’s prostate.

He was in bliss as the inner muscles wrapping his swollen member squeezed again, Shuichi trying to keep him from pulling out, heightening the experience. Reaching between their sweaty bodies, he grasped the pink haired boy’s erection, kneading the skin as Shuichi’s body began to shake. The child was close, he knew it. Exotic, was the best word Yuki could say the singer was, pure exotic. Pink hair was soaked to his head, face remaining the faint pink hue as their bodies thrusted together in bliss, each moment an eternity – that on which they spent together (without Shuichi’s mouth running). Sex and the aftermath, when he’d allow Shuichi to remain in the bed (which was becoming more often), those were Yuki’s favorite moments with the boy.

“Yuki!” Shuichi cried out, for how long he had been doing such, Yuki was unsure, but his inner muscles clamped around Yuki, his release milking both of their sweaty bodies. On the outside, Yuki was his usual, calm, self, thrusting in the boy to deal with sexual frustration, but as he came, he mentally called for the one that could make him feel that way. The boy that’d never hear his feelings out loud. But, Yuki knew that Shuichi understood the silent love, the love that Yuki had for the singer.

As his pinnacle overrode, he stared at the damp face, brushing hair from Shuichi’s face with a grin. “Ne, Yuki…aishiteru…” The pink ball of fluff whispered before falling, exhaustedly, asleep, propped in Yuki’s arms. Pulling out of the boy, Yuki frowned as he, fighting his wobbly legs, carried the boy into the bedroom to lay him down. Taking that moment to rest, he brushed the hair from the face of innocence again.

“Aishiteru, my baka,” he said. There, the word finally escaped his lips. Standing up, he stretched as he started towards the kitchen to clean up their mess and put away the groceries. As he started towards the room, his eyes fell upon his study before he walked there instead, sitting in front of his computer as it loaded in. He was overcome with great imagination, once more, the will to finish the story had suddenly came. He was cured, and he owed it all to a quick fuck in the kitchen.