“The Re-Introduction to Homosexuality”

Author’s Notes: Despite this being a one-shot, it’s rather long. ^^;; Oops. But it doesn’t read like a chapter-fic to me, so sorry about that – giving it to you in its entirety. If there are parts that sound rushed, it’s probably because they were – I was determined to get this thing done before I left for China, and dammit, I got it done!

I believe strongly that you should try everything once, at the very least. How can you not like something if you’ve never tried it, after all?

Same goes for sex, so long as your partner isn’t planning on doing strange things with kitchen utensils. I’ve done so many things…food play, voyeurism, bondage, blood play…I could go on and on. Most of them I try to avoid if I can, if only because I feel personally that it takes away from the act itself, but one thing that I refused to do for the longest time was having something shoved up my ass.

Yes, I’m talking about gay sex.

And, as you could probably guess from my earlier statement, there’s a reason for it. I did try it. Once. Hated it. Hated it until…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I was seventeen or eighteen. Curiosity got the best of me and I needed to know what the big deal was with it. At the time, I figured it had to feel good at some point, or else there wouldn’t be gay men. I later discovered that was indeed the case, but I wasn’t so lucky my first time around.

My first time with a man was one of the most painful experiences of my life – hence my reluctance to try it again. I met him at a party. Booze and drugs and impaired judgment abound. Once I was good and liquored up, I got up the nerve to ask him if he’d do the honors. He was older than me and had been ‘out’ for some time so I assumed if anyone could make something like this enjoyable, he could.

I was so very wrong.

He took me to a hotel in the next town over, where we wouldn’t be recognized by anyone. We got naked and I let him take the lead. He laid me back on the bed and slid down to his knees. It didn’t start so bad, but then, most guys wouldn’t complain about getting a blowjob. He got me off soon enough and I lay in a bleary-eyed euphoria.

Before I recovered fully however, he flipped me over onto my stomach. I can’t remember if he prepared me or not, all I can remember is the immense pain that followed that first thrust.

The rest is fuzzy. I remember crying and muffling any screams I had into the cheap pillows. I blacked out not long after and didn’t wake up till the next morning. He was gone by then.

For hours all I did was lie on the bed and wonder how the hell men could enjoy such agony. Unless they were masochists, I reasoned, there was no way any sane person would put up with it. And I knew sex with women was enjoyable, for both sides – I aimed to please, remember.

After the rational part of me dissipated, the other part – the emotional part – rose up. I curled up on my side and whimpered. I had trusted someone with something so very important, and here had woken up alone in some random hotel bed. Fighting the urge to cry, I pushed myself off of the bed and into the bathroom for a shower, hoping that the hot water would wash it all away.

Jump forward in time about a decade or so and I’m presented with another opportunity to try this – sex with another man – again. But not with someone at a party.

You.

My dear You. The one man in the entire world who would give up everything for me. He got me to try again, but at no small cost to his patience. My God, I have no idea how the poor man did it.

But the important part is that he did.

The first time it came up, we were sitting in the living room talking about things that while pressing at the time but really didn’t mean much in retrospect – rehearsal times, deadlines, rent’s due. He bit his lip and must have decided to just go for it and asked me:

“Gaku…do you think…do you think after all this time that there’s a possibility of…deepening our relationship?”

Warning bells went off, but I played dumb to the best of my ability. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean…you and me…” He paused a moment before lowering his eyes to the floor with a soft laugh. “No, never mind – stupid question.”

The sight of such quick defeat did something to me. Where it usually sparked frustration yielded something that I can only describe as ‘softer.’ “No…no it’s not a stupid question.” He looked up at me at that. “It’s just…”

“Strange?”

“Not possible.”

He tilted his head to the side and I had to fight a smile. “Why? Because I’m your friend?”

The smile fell. “No. It’d probably be better because you are my friend,” I confided. “It’s because I…” How to put it poetically? “I wouldn’t be able to love you the way you would want me to.”

“So…it’s because we’re both guys.”

“…not really. It’s just…” I took a deep breath. “You, if you and I were to ‘deepen’ our relationship, as you said, it wouldn’t be physical – it couldn’t be.”

“But why?”

“Just because.” I stood abruptly and turned to leave the room.

You was on top of things as usual I discovered as he grabbed my wrist and spun me around. You never really realize how short you are until you’ve got another man towering over you. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes not really seeing me. When he spoke, it was barely above a murmur. “Even if it could never be physical, that would be fine with me.”

And so began our more-than-platonic-but-less-than-sexual relationship that confused band members and fangirls alike.

*****

After the success of Mizerable, it became apparent to everyone involved that if we intended to graduate from small clubs to actual live houses with an audience head count of greater than fifty, we were going to need a larger band, or a consistent drummer at the very least. So we started talking to people who in turn talked to other people. Toshi and Igao joined us with no friction whatsoever.

Cha, however…

We met Cha through a third party. He’d been working as a studio musician for a number of bands while conducting lecture classes on the side at a local university. To say we were impressed with his credentials would be an understatement. To finally meet the “legendary” guitarist of Kansai was an honor for all of us.

To say that he was everything we expected would be a lie.

The man was just so…alive that it startled me, especially being a decade older than the rest of us. With his head of near-untamable hair, wire rimmed glasses and an infectious smile, we were all drawn to him as if to a flame. After talking to him for only an hour, I realized he struck me as a mad scientist – undoubtedly insane, but positively brilliant. A man after my own heart, really. Diabolical plots and rainbows and glitter followed at his heels wherever he went.

Being the appointed bandleader, he kept the rest of the band in line with a quiet control that was hidden under devilish grins and friendly eyes. Never once in that first year did I ever hear him raise his voice (unless he was intoxicated, of course) – he left that bit to me. And so our good cop-bad cop dynamic was born.

But work ethic didn’t mean a part of me wasn’t wary of him.

As I said before, everyone was drawn to him, including myself, but what unnerved me was how easily he and You connected. It took me a couple of weeks to realize what I was feeling whenever I saw the two of them together talking, laughing, teaching…teasing. Every chance he got, Cha would say something laced with sexual innuendo, which only served to make Ren and Masa giggle and cause You to turn an almost unhealthy shade of red. He would smile and avoid Cha’s eyes until he could regain his composure. What was that ache I felt in my stomach or the vile taste in my mouth that would rise every time I saw You flush at something the other man said? But then I realized.

I was jealous.

I was jealous because suddenly there was another person who You could open up to. Where I had originally had to share his attention with only two other men, neither of whom “threatened” me, now there was another. And while he was never anything but kind, I could recognize where that kindness could kill.

Where I was serious, he was playful. Where I was brutally honest, he was helpful and encouraging. Where I was too busy, he was available.

And then I was frightened. I was frightened that I was losing You, which was difficult enough to wrestle with, much less the questions that flooded every waking moment. Did his offer still stand now, after meeting this man? About deepening our relationship? Did I still have time? Did he still feel for me the way he did when he first confided his feelings?

The thought of losing him as more than a friend was terrifying. And it wasn’t as if we actually were more than friends – just the possibility that the very chance that we could be…

It got so bad that at one point, I called Cha into the studio an hour before rehearsal one day so I could talk to him alone. He flitted in through the door, closing it gently behind him and smiled at me from across the room. “What’s up, PuPu?” He looked around the studio and realized we were the only ones there. His smile faded just a little bit. “Where’s everyone else?”

Biting my lip, I gestured to the couch that I sat on in the corner of the room. “Can you come sit down with me? I wanted to talk to you about something…”

He set his guitar case down and pulled off his jacket and scarf that had shielded him from the winter’s air. His smile gone, he walked over and sat in the couch perpendicular to the one I sat on. “What’s this about?”

“Your conduct.”

That was apparently a new one. He blinked a bit before he said, “I hadn’t realized my ‘conduct’ had changed any since you met me.”

“It hasn’t. That’s what I’m a little worried about…” I struggled for words that would reveal my thoughts without revealing too much at the same time. “I just felt that at times it was…”

“Too much? Inappropriate? Unsettling?” he tried out, obviously certain of where this was going. When I didn’t immediately say anything, he asked, “Is this about my ‘orientation’ or something else?” He blinked and something in his eyes changed. “Or maybe it’s someone else…” My jaw clenched and I felt my throat go dry. “Aaah…” he whispered. “So it is a ‘someone.’” He crossed his arms on his chest and tilted his head to the side. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with You, would it…?”

I closed my eyes and turned away, ashamed and mortified to have been read so easily.

“Gaku…had you said something sooner, I may have stopped.”

“‘May have?’” I asked, looking back up at him.

“Well yes. May have. Because if You didn’t approve, I would have fully expected him to say something.” He paused. “But you’re not coming on You’s behalf, because You doesn’t seem to mind the extra attention. That’s what bothers you isn’t it?”

I jumped to my feet and stood over him, feeling that bitter feeling rise again. “What? No! No, I just felt that--”

“That what? That you were being replaced?”

Something inside me doubled over and went silent. I looked down at him and saw his face was expressionless but soft in some way. The quiet strength was back and was demanding obedience.

“Sit down, Gaku.”

Slowly, I sank back down onto the couch cushions, my eyes locked with his. And then he smiled. Not the ecstatic grin I had come to associate with him, but rather a smile that held a gentle understanding.

“Gaku,” he began, leaning forward over his legs, “I think you need to know. I think you need to know that You only has eyes for you. That’s not going to change, no matter how much I tease him. Do you understand?”

A part of me understood, yes. But over the past twenty-odd years, I had repressed it so much, it was as if it was speaking a different language. “No. No, I don’t. I don’t understand. I…”

Cha smiled and stood, ruffling my hair. “You will PuPu. Don’t worry. You’ll understand.” Walking towards the door, flipped his hair over his shoulder and called back to me, “Now, more importantly, considering we’ve got at least half an hour before everyone else shows up, you want to go get some coffee?”

I watched him walk away and was struck with a sudden sense of guilt. I accused him of something that was next to treason in my mind and he brushed it off without even a grimace. He wasn’t angry. “Cha…” He stopped and turned to look at me, smile back in place. “I…I’m so sorry…” I dropped my head into my hands. “I’m so sorry, I…”

And then he was beside me. He touched my shoulder and squeezed it in his hand. I looked up to find that gentle smile again.

“It’s okay, Gaku,” he said softly. “It’s okay. Do you want to come with me to get coffee?”

I sniffed against the tears I didn’t realize had welled up in my eyes and I smiled. “Yes, yes I want to go with you.”

*****

We rearranged a couple of rooms in the house when You unofficially moved in with me. We emptied one of the storage rooms and what couldn’t be incorporated elsewhere in the house was moved down into basement. You – while he kept his apartment and continued to pay rent on it for years – took most of what he owned and brought it over to my place.

I remember he spent most of that day setting up “his room” by his standards. Every now and then, when I happened to walk by, I could hear him muttering to himself about where this should go or that didn’t look right there or where the hell he was going to store his manga collection…It made me smile, knowing that he had become an all-but-permanent resident in the house.

We lived together but slept alone – our bedrooms our only personal haven. For a number of months, it was fine. I enjoyed our time together and he never once made any sort of insinuation that what we had wasn’t “good enough.”

In fact, it was me who took it a step further.

At some point during a rather stressful time in our recording period, between promotions and recordings and interviews and photoshoots, I started to feel myself breaking down. I was tired all the time and while I was mildly successful at hiding my fatigue, there were always two people who could see right through me – one was Cha, my ever-present older brother and confident. The other was You. Of course.

With me, stress often meant sleepless nights and skipped meals, despite my obvious fatigue and hunger. But this one time, it also meant bad dreams.

An imagination is a pretty scary thing. Mine just happens to be overly vivid and so when it comes to bad dreams, mine are absolutely terrifying.

This was what brought You and I into the same bed. Not suggestive comments or meaningful looks, but nightmares.

It wasn’t an entirely new thing, of course. You and I had been friends for years and even shared an apartment for a year during university, so he knew pretty well that me and nightmares don’t mix that well. They’re great for inspiration, not so great for sleep.

One night I sat bolt upright in my bed with a cry that died on my tongue as sleep evaporated, visions of demons and betrayals still all too real to my sleep-deprived mind. I sat panting in my bed, my sheets tangled and knotted around my legs. But as my breathing evened out, the tears came. I was hungry and exhausted and now terrified and it was too much.

I cried for what seemed like hours before an idea popped into my head. Wrapping myself in a blanket that had fallen to the floor, I padded across the house and into his room.

For a time, I just watched him. I watched as he breathed shallow and slow in sleep, his chest moving up and down in a wonderfully even motion. He sighed and muttered something incoherent and I smiled.

Reaching out I touched his shoulder. He shifted, but continued to sleep. I touched him again, whispering, “You…”

He rolled towards my voice and blinked his eyes open, his vision obviously still bleary with sleep. “Gaku…what’s…what’s up?”

“Can I stay here with you tonight?”

That woke him up. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he looked me up and down. “Here? Why?” When I didn’t say anything, he got worried. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice anxious as he sat fully upright and reached out and held my hand in his.

The touch startled me and I looked down at our loosely clasped hands. I smiled at them and squeezed his fingers. “I just…I had a bad dream, that’s all. If you want to get back to bed, that’s fine. I’ll leave…” I heard myself say as I continued to watch our hands. He squeezed my hand back.

“No, it’s alright,” he whispered as his hand gently tugged on mine, bringing my eyes back up to look at him. He shifted to the side a bit, giving up space on the bed beside him.

With a shy smile, I all but collapsed next to him. The bed was still warm where his body had been and I sighed. But something still wasn’t right. Biting my lip, I shifted closer and rested my head on his chest.

He went still for a moment, uncertain of where this was heading but soon enough, I felt him relax under me and his arms came down to wrap around my shoulders, one of his hands running its fingers through my hair playfully. “Get some sleep, okay?” he whispered.

I could hear his words vibrate through his chest. My right hand came up and lay over his heart and I felt it beat underneath his skin. Closing my eyes, I let myself be lulled back to sleep, cradled in his arms.

*****

The first time we kissed, really kissed, we were in the kitchen. I think I was cleaning dishes from dinner or lunch or something. In any case, my attention was focused elsewhere and not on my roommate.

Or at least it wasn’t, before he slid his arms around my waist, his body close behind me, and pressed a small kiss to the back of my neck.

I froze under those lips. The muscles throughout my body locked in place, plate and wash rag in my hands suspended just over the sink, and I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks and ears.

But just as quickly as those arms wound around me and those lips caressed my skin, they were gone. You stepped away and out the archway leading into the hallway.

“H-hey!” I called after him, my voice shaking as I dropped the rag and plate and rushed after him. Clutching the woodwork, I leaned around the edge. “Hey!” I repeated, happy to hear that my voice had returned to normal.

He stopped then and turned to look over his shoulder. “Yes?”

I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I stood silent for a moment before conjuring up some form of frustration which really didn’t exist. “What was that for?”

You shrugged and leaned back against the wall. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You have to know. You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t have some reason behind it.”

“Does every action need to have a rational thought behind it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Of course it does,” I answered.

He chuckled and, with his head down, walked back into the kitchen. I don’t know what I had expected. Maybe have him explain in detail and with examples what exactly was going through his head. Maybe have him tell me it was a joke. Maybe have him tell me it was a test.

What I didn’t expect was to have him press closer, backing me up against the counter, his hands on either side of my hips, his face just centimeters from mine…For a couple saturating moments, we shared the same breath and I was certain he heard my heart pounding in my chest.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. That’s all.” He smiled that sweet, soft smile he often offered me when there was more to it, when he wasn’t telling the whole story.

“That’s not all,” I whispered, my gaze darting from his eyes to his lips and back again.

He sighed as his face fell. “No…no, that’s not all. But--”

“‘But?’” I probed.

“But…you don’t want it, what comes after I mean.”

He started to pull away but I grabbed his forearms with my hands. Closing my eyes, I shook my head, feeling him still under my grip. We stood like that for some time, I don’t know how long, just breathing and feeling the air warm between us. I realized at some point how nice his body felt against mine. “I do want it,” I heard myself whisper. “What comes after. I want it, but…” I bit my lip and squeezed his arms with my hands. “But I’m scared.”

He was quiet for a time and I dared not I look up into his eyes. So instead, I clenched my eyes shut, blocking out the light from the kitchen in favor of the dark behind the lids. But then I felt him embrace me, gently, one of his hands sliding up my spine to cup the base of my neck where his lips had hovered just a few minutes before. “I promise you,” he began, his lips ghosting over my ears and neck, which made it extremely hard to concentrate, “that I will never…ever…do anything that you won’t like.” He concluded with a chaste kiss to my forehead before resting his forehead against mine.

After I had regained control of my breath, I whispered, “Okay.”

Untangling one of his arms from around my body, he held my chin between his fingers and tilted my face up to look into his dark eyes. He leaned forward and I watched his eyes flutter shut just before our lips met.

It began as a peck, a bare touch of his lips on mine, but then he came again and again, slowly working my lips apart as he showered affection upon me with those delicious lips. As my mouth opened to his, I felt his tongue slide along my bottom lip and I groaned into the kiss, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck, holding him in place while I returned his kiss. What started as a sweet sign of affection evolved so quickly into something starving and desperate, something I didn’t know I still felt, something I didn’t know I still needed.

I wanted him. I have no doubt of that. I wanted him right then and there in the kitchen. I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his shirt, my body thirsting for him.

But then he pulled away. I opened the eyes I hadn’t realized I had closed. Taking my flushed face in his hands, he kissed my forehead. “See?” he gasped while our chests heaved and gulped air. “That wasn’t so bad…”

And I had to agree – it wasn’t. It wasn’t so bad at all.

*****

Most fans know that I like to walk around my house naked. Well, that was when it was my house alone. I didn’t like walking around in the nude when my staff was staying – because that would be awkward – or when my sister was staying – because that would be awkward and a half.

Same when for when You permanently moved in. I cooked fully clothed, I slept fully clothed…hell, I’m honestly surprised I didn’t at some point try to bathe fully clothed.

When we started sharing that big ass bed, it was no different. Slowly, ever so slowly however, he worked me out of it.

“Why do you do that?” he asked as I crawled into bed one particularly hot spring evening.

Sliding under the sheets next to him and rolled over onto my side and asked, “Do what?”

“That,” he said, perhaps being purposefully vague as he propped himself up on his one elbow and gestured half-heartedly at my body. “Wearing your clothes to bed.”

I blinked a bit before glancing down at my body. Once again, I was fully clothed in a pair of cotton pants that tightened with a drawstring around my hips and a t-shirt. “What about it?”

“Gaku, it was 33 degrees outside all day today and they said it’s only going to drop to 23 tonight at the most. Aren’t you hot?”

I tried to ignore the suggestion that went unvoiced between us while sweat started to bead up on my scalp and at my temples, matting the roots of my hair. The situation wasn’t helped any seeing as I was about eye-level with his bare chest.

You tended to don boxer shorts for bed during the freak heat waves that would roll through in the spring and summer, trading them out for sweatpants and a t-shirt during the winter months. Since we started sleeping in the same bed, however, less had become more. The man rarely wore a shirt, which turned out to be both a blessing and a curse all in one. A blessing because it meant I had a wonderful view to fall asleep and wake up beside. A curse because it caused a large number of rather fitful dreams that would leave me gasping when I awoke, flushed and bothered, beside him.

“…well?”

His voice interrupted my reverie – and my unintended but adoring gaze locked onto his collarbones – and brought my eyes back up to his. “‘Well’ what?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, sliding a little closer to me. “Gaku, what did I tell you when we first started this whole thing?”

“That you’d never do anything I didn’t like…” I muttered, knowing I’d been caught.

“And if I had wanted to get you naked and jump you, I would have done it ages ago, you know that too, right?”

I swallowed, momentarily fearing he had heard me talking in my sleep during one of my fevered dreams. “Right…”

He took my chin his hand and tilted my face up so he could see my eyes. “Now, while the idea is still very enticing, it wasn’t what motivated my comment. Trying to get you to lose some layers was motivated by rationality. It’s far too hot to be wearing so much to bed, and even if you claim to love the heat, I know you well enough to be certain you don’t love it that much.”

I pursed my lips and looked away. He sighed again and released my chin. “And it was just a suggestion,” he whispered, kissing me on my forehead and rolling over. “Goodnight.”

I lay for a moment silent, thinking of the possibilities. No, he’d never been too forward and it was just a suggestion. And yes, it was unbearably hot. I worried the inside of my cheek before sliding off of the bed.

He didn’t show any outward reaction, but then it was hard to judge someone’s thoughts based on how the muscles of their back and shoulders moved as they lay on a bed. Taking a step away from the edge of the bed, I pulled off my t-shirt and hooked my fingers into the waistband of my pants, sliding them down and off of my legs, leaving me naked save for the boxer briefs that clung to my hips.

Pulling the sheets aside, I climbed back in, noting just how much cooler it felt. “Don’t be all smug in the morning, okay?” I said, trying to keep the stubborn conviction in my voice, and failing about half-way through.

“Can I be smug now?” I could almost see him smile.

I reached a hand out and let it slide along his side before coming to rest just above his hip. “Maybe for a little bit.”

*****

Before discussing anything even remotely hot and steamy, I have to mention self-image.

The great Gackt Camui is self-conscious. All rock stars are of at least one part of themselves. Hyde for example, while he will perhaps never admit to it, hates to be considered on the short side. I don’t think it really dawned on him how short he was until he had to look up to meet my eyes. He and Cha have this thing going in which their generation got the last of the short Japanese genes. They claim that there’s going to be a “short mans’ revolution” one of these days and everyone over 168 centimeters is “going down.”

But I digress.

Yes, I am self-conscious. I’ve been told countless times that I shouldn’t be, but I am. It’s one of the flaws my fans don’t know about. And it all started with a “helpful” suggestion from my manager.

“You should consider getting another nose job done,” he said one day. “Because after the last one, it came out a bit crooked.”

I brushed it off at the time and went about my duties for the day but the moment I got home, I stared at myself in the mirror. And what started out as a slightly crooked nose became –

Your lips are too girly

Your eyes are too western

Your face is too round

Your cheeks are too pudgy

You’re too thin

Your forehead’s huge

Your arms aren’t strong enough

You’ve got no ass

Your feet are too big

Is that a gray hair?!

And don’t forget the crows’ feet at your eyes, the frown lines on your brow and the laugh lines around your mouth.

When You came home, he found me curled up in front of the full length mirror in my closet, naked, picking out all of the impurities and imperfections that I alone could see.

“You okay?” he asked. The concern that filled his voice only made me feel worse. I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes before burying my face in my arms so I wouldn’t see the reflection of him and all of the mistakes Nature made when she created me.

That’s one of my other imperfections – being a crybaby.

I heard him move behind me and he touched my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I’m sure he fully expected me to tell him that I was on drugs, or someone had died, but no. What did I tell him?

“I’m not perfect.”

He sounded confused when he replied. “You’re human.”

“I’m ugly.”

“You’re not ugly and even if you were, I’d still be here. What about that ‘beauty’s only skin deep’ thing?”

“They lied.”

I could picture his trademarked eye roll in my head when I heard him sigh. There was a rustling and I peaked at the mirror under one of my arms. His reflection stood just behind me, naked from his head down to his toes with his hand outstretched to my elbow. “Come on,” he beckoned.

That’s still the fastest he’s ever stripped, by the way.

Reluctantly, I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. Standing behind me, he pressed his body against my back and held me in his arms, his one hand cradling my face so I couldn’t look away from our embracing mirrored images. Uncertainty and something else boiled suddenly in my chest…and elsewhere. I felt my cheeks flush and I swallowed hard.

“You see?” he said. “You’re beautiful.” I closed my eyes and said nothing. He turned us sideways. “Open your eyes.” When I did, I found our bodies pressed together, his chest against my back and shoulders, his hips against my backside, his arms wrapped tightly around my ribcage.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against my ear while I was still spellbound by our reflections. “This,” he added as he traced the seam our bodies made, “is perfect.”

I could feel him, all of him, and I felt…safe. I tilted my head back to rest against his shoulder and I smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

“Ah…there you are. My Gaku-chan. You’re perfect, and you’re beautiful – just as you are. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I met his reflection’s dark eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered and my eyes slipped shut.

We stood locked in our embrace as he rocked us side to side, humming softly to me between kisses to my neck and shoulder.

*****

The farthest we ever went for the longest time was kissing, sleeping in the same bed together, and the occasional grope. You had told me that I wasn’t ready.

Jerk.

Meanwhile, I had to go to sleep beside him and then every night, dream about him doing all the dirty things to the dream-me that I wanted him to be doing to the awake-me. So many times I would wake up sweating and unbelievably turned on with no way of relieving myself save for running to the bathroom and jumping into the shower.

For the longest time, he played oblivious, asking me if I had a bad dream or something. I, for a time, believed he really was that clueless, but after countless months of almost successive “bad dreams,” I began to have my doubts of his innocence.

The night we moved on from our passionate kisses to the next step was one such night. I sat up in bed dripping with sweat, my erection straining painfully in my underwear. I gasped and bit back a moan as the sensation in my nether regions intensified as I awoke further. I shifted to move off of the bed and rush to the bathroom, as was my routine, when the man who I thought had been asleep beside me grabbed my wrist.

I jumped and turned to look at You. He had at some point raised himself up on his elbow and was watching me with those eyes. The eyes that meant business, the eyes that meant I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Bad dream?” he asked, his voice light and airy but his nonchalance was missing on his face.

“Y…yeah,” I breathed.

He smirked. “You seem to be having a lot of them lately…what are they about?”

“I don’t want to talk about them,” I told him and tried to pull away and hide my erection at the same time.

“Then why do you always run off to the bathroom all the time, huh? Did you dream the toilet grew teeth or something?”

“No…” I tried to pull my arm free again, to no avail.

He lay down on his side and looked up at me, his hand still firmly wrapped around my wrist. “Am I the villain?”

His question took me by surprise. “You’re never the villain.”

“Really? Then how come you’re always yelling at me, huh?” He slid a little closer.

Caught in the headlights, I didn’t know how to react. “You’re never the villain,” I repeated, my voice shaking.

Another smirk. “Oh really? Then maybe they’re not bad dreams…” He crept closer and pushed me back down on the bed, crawling on top of me. “Maybe they’re those kinds of dreams,” he whispered, laying his full weight upon me.

I gasped as our lips met in a hot kiss, his tongue thrusting into my open mouth. His hips pressed down against mine and my hands came up and grasped his bare shoulders. I could feel the lithe muscles under his skin undulate as he shifted above me, pressing me down into the bed. Wedging his knees between my legs, he spread them apart as his lips moved from my mouth down my neck. His hands slid along my body and I arched into them, loving the feel of his calloused fingers running along my sweat-slicked skin.

I groaned under him until I felt his fingers hook themselves underneath the waistband of my underwear. My eyes snapped open and I tried to pull away. “You--” was all that left my lips and he stopped. Sitting back – but not removing his fingers, I noted – he looked into my eyes.

We watched each other in silence for a couple moments, breathing hard in the darkness. “I promised you,” he whispered finally, his eyes not leaving mine.

I was silent while his words sunk in, feeling his one hand free itself and caress my hip through my boxer briefs. I closed my eyes and breathed as his hand slid lower, running lightly along the outside of my thigh, while the fingers of his other hand stroked the skin just under the waistband.

My eyes snapped open and I lunged up, capturing his lips again for another passionate kiss. I screwed my eyes shut as we connected and I held him to me. I could feel his hands busy themselves with my body before pushing me back down on the bed, hooking his fingers in my underwear and pulling down. I shimmied my hips back and forth until I was rid of them and he settled again on top of my now-naked body.

Our lips moved against each other over and over again. “Oh God, I want you,” he gasped against them. I could feel his breath, hot on my cheeks.

“Then take me,” I whispered back.

He rolled his hips down against mine and I threw my head back with a groan. “Not yet,” he whispered in my ear. “But I don’t have to take you to make you sing…” One of his hands ghosted down between our bodies and caressed my groin. I felt a cry strangle itself in my throat.

Sliding his body down between my spread legs, he lavished my neck and shoulders with wet kisses, his tongue sliding along my throat before dipping into the hollow between my collarbones. He wandered lower, tracing every line on my chest with his tongue and taking my nipples into his mouth, rolling his tongue against the hardened nubs and pinching them with his teeth. He went lower still, giving the quivering muscles in my stomach the same attention he did my chest, tracing the lines with that devilish tongue.

I twisted underneath him, crying out at every little thing he did to my body. It felt so good, I didn’t want him to stop, but my poor body at been at the breaking point since I had woken up from that dream. Oh, that dream…It started this entire thing. My fingers tangled in his hair, desperately trying to force him lower, lower to where I needed him.

Pulling back, his hands wrapped around my wrists and forced them down to the bed, holding them fast by my sides. He smirked at me as I tried to sit up to protest. “Don’t rush it,” he said, his voice scolding but amused at my insistence.

“Don’t tease,” I gasped, pleading.

He smiled and nodded. Releasing my wrists, he dropped further down between my legs, where I wanted him. Where I needed him. But You had other plans. He ran his tongue along my groin while he stroked the insides of my thighs. I groaned and he pulled back. I could feel his eyes on me as he caressed my skin again, raising goose bumps in the wake of his finger tips. I whimpered and tried to spread my legs wider.

“I’ll have to remember that,” he murmured, giving my thighs one more caress as I sighed.

But then he was upon me. I choked on my cries as his lips encircled my swollen cock. He slid me in and out, his tongue laving over the tip before plunging it deeper into his mouth. I arched up into him, my fingers knotting themselves in his hair again. He slid his arms underneath my hips and pulled me closer, my knees bending over his shoulders.

It didn’t take long. A couple deep thrusts into that delicious mouth and I was gone, over the brink and into the abyss. I collapsed back into the bed, panting and drained. Somewhere in my clouded mind, I felt You move beside me. His arm slid around my waist and his lips brushed against my temple.

“I love you,” he whispered.

I murmured something unintelligible before slipping into darkness.

*****

After countless misadventures and forays into the realm of oral sex, I decided to step it up a notch. I don’t remember the last time I wanted something so much. I wanted it so much I remember looking in the mirror that morning and thinking, “I am going to have sex with You tonight.”

As laughable as that may sound, it’s true. Part of me still thinks that had I not bothered with the mirror, it would have taken a lot longer for him to get me on my back on his own.

That evening, after yet another long and grueling day at the studio, You collapsed spread eagle on his stomach on our bed. I leaned up against the doorframe and smirked. Humming a tune I’d heard earlier in the day, I sauntered up behind him, crawling onto the bed and straddled his ass. I leaned over to press little kisses against his ear and what I could reach of his neck. He groaned softly into the bed as my lips ghosted over his skin. “Never know how much I love you,” I whispered, punctuating my words with kisses, “Never know how much I care…When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear.” My tongue flicked out and tasted the shell of his ear. I felt him shudder beneath me and he sighed. “You give me fever…when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight…” I sat up and rolled him over underneath me so I straddled his hips. I ran my hands down his chest before sliding them up under my shirt and pulling it off over my head. I felt his hands caress my bent legs. Bending over him, I slid my hands under his shirt and pressed a kiss to his temple, “Fever in the morning…” and to his jaw, “Fever all through the night…”

He arched his neck up and caught my lips with his, his hands wandering from my thighs up to my back, tracing the bumps and ridges my spine and shoulder blades made. When we parted, he whispered, “I love you…”

“I love you too.”

“I want you.”

I grinned and slide my hands up under his shirt, feeling his nipples harden as my finger tips brushed against them. “And what’s stopping you from doing something about it, hm?”

You smiled up at me, his eyes already dark with lust. “Nothing really, I suppose. But our clothes are definitely hindering any progress we could be making.”

“Well we’ll have to do something about that, now won’t we?” Taking the edge of his shirt in hand, I all but tore it off of him and tossed the offending article of clothing somewhere across the room. Grabbing his shoulders, I rolled over and pulled him on top of me. Startled by the sudden change of weight, You braced himself up on his hands and knees above me, his fingers knotting in the sheets by my head.

I’m rather proud of myself that I made such quick work of the rest of his clothing.

I think he was a little surprised by my fervor, but I don’t remember him complaining.

Once we were both suitably nude, I slid my hands up and down his body, closing my eyes so I could feel him. Really feel him, all of him. The heat under his skin, the sweat that made it slick under my fingers, his breath in my ear…

Drowning in him, I heard myself whisper, “Take me…”

He kissed my neck and made me shudder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He was quiet for a time while his hands caressed my arms and my legs scissored against his body. Then he moved, but not how I had expected him to.

Reaching up, he grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed and brought it down to us. Cupping one of my hips in his hand, he rolled me over on top of it. “You, what--?”

“Trust me, it’ll help.”

I pouted. “But…I wanted to see you.” And last time someone did this to me, it hurt.

You bent over my prone body and ran his tongue along the shell of my ear, successfully transforming me into a puddle of goo. Sexually frustrated goo at that. Against my ear he whispered, “If you’re hips are propped up like this, you’re body is more willing to relax.” He punctuated his statement by gliding a finger down my spine and letting it rub against my entrance. I groaned. “And remember, you’re still a beginner.” I could hear the laugh in his voice. “Once you master this position, I’ll take you wherever and however you want. But tonight,” he said, kissing my shoulder, “let me make you feel good, okay?”

I nodded and let him take the lead. He ran his hands open-palmed over my back, massaging away any tension that was determined to stay put. I reached up over my head and grabbed the lubricant off of the nightstand. I heard him pop to the top and then nothing until his greased hands were upon me, massaging my thighs and the cheeks of my ass. He teased my entrance with his fingers, sliding them in and out, in and out, over and over again.

I balled the sheets in my hand and lifted my ass back towards him. His hands pressed me back down and continued to torment my already frayed nerves. I muffled my cries in the sheets.

When he pulled away, I lay shuddering on the bed. “Do you still want me?” he whispered against my shoulder.

“Yes…” I groaned. I felt him position himself above me on his elbows so his lips had easy access to my neck and shoulders. And then he entered me.

Oh, I’ve never seen stars as bright as the ones that flashed before my eyes as he drove his length into me. Any words died in my throat and all I could do was lie underneath him and feel. His lips took an earlobe between them and I heard him groan above me.

“You…” I gasped as he moved inside me, his lips moving along my neck and shoulder. “Do I really feel that good…?” Even now, with the love of my life buried deep inside my body, it was so hard to let go of the hesitation, the doubt.

His lips took an earlobe between them and sucked for a moment. He breathed against the shell of my ear, “You feel divine,” before his lips locked onto the side of my throat.

The confession sent me over the edge as he hammered into me, slamming against my prostate with every thrust. I screamed for him as I came against the pillow and sheets underneath me. Collapsing onto the bed, my body rocked as he continued to thrust inside me until he too lost control and plummeted over the edge.

We lay tangled together for awhile before he recovered enough to pull away and roll over onto his back beside me. Blinking my eyes, I smiled sleepily at him. “Will I hurt tomorrow?” I asked, half-heartedly. I really didn’t give a damn if I hurt tomorrow – I was still reeling from my orgasm.

“You might be a little sore. I went a little harder on you than I had planned on,” he admitted.

I smiled and blinked my eyes open. “I liked it.” He glanced at me, surprised. “I liked it, but only because it was you.”

You smiled then. Lulled by the beating of his heart, I fell asleep in his arms.

*****

My father had come. He usually comes to visit me and my sister in Tokyo twice a year – once in the winter, once in the spring or summer – just to say that he actually spoke to his children in person, even the black sheep of the family.

You, my father and I had a relatively uneventful dinner. He asked us about our up-and-coming plans for music, You’s family, my sister…He scoffed at half the things I said and blatantly ignored half of what You said. More than once I felt my mouth open in protest only to feel You’s foot touch mine under the table and with a quick glance at his pleading eyes, felt the fighting words die on my tongue.

But when You excused himself after dinner, saying he had something to do elsewhere in the house, and left me alone with my father…all bets were off, so to speak.

“So…” he began, looking at me in that condescending way I hated since I’d turned thirteen, “Why is he here?”

My father never approved of my friends. The people I surrounded myself with in high school were never enough. They weren’t high enough on the social ladder. Gang members, vagabonds, punk rockers, and homosexuals that they tended to be, at least they had dreams. And at least they respected me, which was more than what I got at home from the man who was now sitting across my dining room table from me.

I think he hated You the most, unfortunately. My father could respect Ren to an extent because his mother was in business, but You’s family owned a small restaurant in town. He lived in the loft with his sister and parents right above the kitchen.

My father thought that his son, who had every privilege and fulfilled desire available to him as the child of a successful family whose money went back generations would find “better-suited” friends with whom to associate himself.

I obviously had other ideas.

“He lives here,” I answered him.

My father laughed. “Why? Can’t he afford to live on his own?”

“You makes plenty enough to buy himself a very nice home. He just chooses to live here with me.”

“But why?”

I knew he was fishing for a reason, any reason, to start a fight. Normally, I would back down from such confrontation. Not this time. “Because…it’s easier.”

“‘Easier?’”

“We go to practice together, we hang out together, we cook together--”

“Sleep together?” he butted in.

Swallowing, I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

I shouldn’t have said it. He bolted to his feet, knocking over the chair he had been sitting on. I jumped up as he circled the table towards me. Just as I got to my feet, the words flew.

No one – and I mean no one – knows how to say such hurtful things like my father. Within the span of ten seconds or less, you can go from feeling invincible to feeling like the dirt under the rug.

He damned me, he damned You, he condemned what we shared at every level and I fought back with words of my own. I cursed at him in five languages and sent him out of my house. What began as a halfway decent dinner dissolved into a full out battle of wills.

My father stormed out of the room and out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

After the room was quiet for a couple minutes, You poked his head into the main room where I stood, still fuming. “What just happened?”

“We had a fight,” I said.

“I kinda guessed. What about?”

I turned my head to look at him as he entered the room. My father’s words stung and I averted my gaze. Instead of answering his question, I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to put dinner away. Striding briskly into the kitchen, I threw open cabinets and drawers, tossing in dishes and silverware, before slamming the doors shut again. By the time You followed me into the room, I had started a similar attack on the refrigerator.

“…It was about me, wasn’t it?” he asked softly.

I paused in my siege at the question. Dropping the Tupperware into the sink, I pressed the heels of my hands into the edge of the countertop, hunching my shoulders. “It was about us,” I corrected, my back to him.

“Well…” he began, “what did he say?”

“Nothing.”

“He had to have said something – you’re upset.”

The offending Tupperware back in hand, I turned to him and snapped, “Father doesn’t approve because apparently a loving and devoted relationship is perverse.” Tossing the leftovers into the refrigerator, I slammed the door shut, not entirely happy with the muffled sound it made. “It’s grotesque and wrong and one of the core reasons as to why family values are so warped and why religion is failing and why our political leaders are so greedy and why the Israelis and Palestinians just. Can’t. Get along.” I waited.

“Maybe we’re going to fast…” You murmured, lowering his eyes to the floor. I’d seen that look before. It was the look he gave when he was uncertain.

It was the look he gave when he was scared.

“You, it’s been five years since we started this…”

“Maybe we need another five,” he said, chancing a glance at me before turning away and heading towards the archway.

I wrapped my arms around myself and took a deep breath. “I told my father to fuck off.” He stopped but didn’t turn around, so I continued. “I told him to fuck off because he said what was going on in this house was bad. It was unhealthy and wrong. I told him to fuck off and that if he disapproved so much, then he never has to come back. And then I told him that I was not going to change anything in this house…because I love you.” He turned then and looked at me, studying my face, my resolve. “So you are not moving out and we are not waiting another five years in the hopes of getting his approval.”

An eternity passed as we watched each other, waiting for someone to back down. When neither of us did, he asked softly, “You told your father that you love me?”

My gaze softened and I chanced a gentle smile, walking over to him and taking his hands in mine. “You, I would go on national television tomorrow and tell everyone watching that I love you.” I laughed. “It’s just that right now, I don’t think our contract allows it.”

He smiled then and wrapped his long arms around me and held me against his chest. I rested me cheek on his shoulder and slid my arms around his waist. “I love you so much,” he whispered into my hair.

I smiled. “I love you too.”

We held each other for a time there in the kitchen. Reveling in the feeling of being loved and loving in return. It felt safe, it felt right. My father was wrong and I knew that he would never understand the love that You and I had. I breathed in the scent of the man encircling me, committing myself to spending the rest of my life ensnared by him.

You.

My You.

“So…we’re the one’s who’re responsible for the fiasco in the Middle East, huh?” he asked. “Think we had a hand in the North Korea thing too?”

I chuckled. “Yeah,” I said, looking up at him, “just maybe.”