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bakerstreet2025-04-06 11:11 am
mllememe) wrote in bakerstreet2025-04-06 11:11 am
Entry tags:
april texting.
You’ve got your TFLN, you’ve got your sexting, now here’s the meme for all those gen texts, phone calls, voicemails, pictures of your cats, and whatever else your little heart can come up with, because who doesn't like a little old fashioned friendly texting. (Or enemy texting, if that's more your bag.)
instructions: What it says on the tin! Leave a comment with your character, include preferences, a start, absolutely nothing or whatever you want. Run around and reply to others. Lather, rinse, repeat.
no subject
ugetsu's mouth is slick and greedy around his fingers. akihiko feels ever flutter of his throat, every little tremble that passes to his nerves. he presses down, just a little, to watch the way ugetsu's eyes blur with it. watches when those digits slowly disappear and reappear between the drag of his mouth. it's glossy. obscene.
it's about history.
it's all about that little sound ugetsu makes when his throat closes around him. akihiko breathes through his nose. a desperate bid to stay silent. desperate to push away feeling like he always does in this place. but ugetsu's skin sings under his mouth. it feels like home, where he belongs. not in the light kissed places he's come to know and love. he misses it all. this. not the shattering.
ugetsu looks at akihiko like a cause and a cure. like he's the one meant to touch him, pluck every string and turn him into an artform. there's a constellation of pain and memory mapped in exploding nerves and breaths.
it's too much and not enough. akihiko yanks away from ugetsu's neck, if only to aid in tears his shirt off mostly intact this time (he's lost too many to those desperate claws) and resume his position right against that throat. right against that lifeline. akihiko shouldn't be here. he should be thinking about haruki. about all the promises he's made and is already breaking into a million pieces.
but ugetsu has the nerve to make such wicked sounds like that and he sways.
his free hand glides under ugetsu's sweater. he remembers every inch anyways. this is just a refresher course. he dreams about it when he wakes up too early in a different bed.
akihiko does it. again and again and again. fingers in, out. suck, bite, repeat. touching the flat expanse of ugetsu's stomach, feeling the skin jump under his touch. he does it.
even though he shouldn't. even though he'll regret this. even though he already does.
but. he wants to give ugetsu everything again. because it's what they're known for. they don't know how to stop. they always do this. autumn feels like an end. and akihiko can't leave something broken without breaking it more]
You never change.
no subject
Mmn...ah....gh...-ki--
[ sounds like please sounds like hurry. shattering. his hand curls tight around aki's wrist to help himself get the leverage to pull off of him, teeth nicking the tips of those fingers. another garbled laugh, wet and as obscene as the swollen red of his mouth, the impossible black of his eyes that want to draw akihiko in forever. only aki ever came close to understanding. and then, miraculously mafuyu sato. but it's quite different. in some ways, ugetsu sees mafuyu as a version of a person he himself could never become and so of course he can never touch. and then there's aki. the first to touch. the first to stay. the first. the last. ]
Ha...ah...Aki. Neither....neither do you.
[ too thin fingers still tightly clenched around aki's wrist, he pushes that hand down between them, makes it smooth down his own chest, his stomach, and then...stops. his gaze lilts up towards aki again if he'll meet it, and closes if not, the lift of his hips as blatant as ever. a soft hum is splinters of glass away from something headier. ]
What. Do you want, Aki?
[ a repetition. a necessity. a demand.
the first few weeks without aki were horrible. ugetsu couldn't get off no matter what he did. and worse: the music was all wrong. it made him sick to have people applaud what he knew was not right. couldn't they hear it? didn't they understand? his breath catches like a hook in his chest as he remembers one man's hand on the small of his back, how it had disgusted him, and how he'd smiled at him anyway, feeling like he didn't exist even when he let him fuck him in a hotel room more costly than most monthly rents.
with aki he exists. it hurts. it's too much. not enough. more. the moon cycles through its phases in a desperate hurdle to recapture one single season. a duet that feels like falling. ]
no subject
akihiko swallows down the burn, coiling and twisting in his throat. it feels too much like a truth he wants to ignore. he lets himself be guided. let's ugetsu do whatever he wants, drag his hand down his chest. lower. it's all a deliberately crafted performance. but a private theater this time. a language only the two of them can speak so fluently.
ugetsu asks. like it's not something he hasn't already answered a thousand times over. akihiko presses their foreheads together. it's childish to think something like this will ground him. not when ugetsu looks at him like that. a piece of a song he can't quite cut, but doesn't fit anywhere else in the prose]
I don't know.
[a lie.
i miss you. i want everything. i can't stop myself. help. the only truth is akihiko wants this. even now, after everything. especially now after everything. even with haruki's name tucked somewhere in his guts. it aches quietly like the fresh bruises littering ugetsu's neck. he shouldn't be touching him like this. but he needs him. he can't pretend to be better than the things he's already treaded all over.
his hand digs lower than where ugetsu stops, meeting that tilt of his hips. akihiko's mouth scrapes against his throat. so easily. just like the music they always played together. a duet, huh? his fingers tremble]
Like I didn't already lose myself in this.
[he pulls away from his neck, and kisses him. it's a slow, hard thing. something that feels young enough to remember, or rather believe, that love means survival. love can conquer all, survive anything. they can recover from this fall too, right? with ugetsu, he always falls. he just keeps fucking up the landing. time and time again]
no subject
can't he exist on music alone? then music and aki? still no? then?
it's been a while since ugetsu let anyone touch him. that it's aki makes sense and also doesn't. what of his boyfriend? if ugetsu were in a different mood he would keep prodding, keep asking, keep twisting the knife. as it turns out, the mood the moon is in is one he can't even name himself. it burns and it's cold. it's lonely but it's overwhelming. akihiko smells like cigarettes, coffee, and something so inherently him that it makes ugetsu's body ache and his muscles tighten. he wants him because he always wants him.
even in the past when he pushed him away, he wanted him.
that night he asked him to let go; he wanted him.
cried to an empty street and felt like he would die, woke up the next morning to be disappointed it wasn't true.
what if he went after him?
but he'd been trying, once in his life, to do the right thing.
was it?
akihiko crushing him down nothing short of adoring, makes it a question without an answer. when the kiss breaks this time, ugetsu still mouths at aki's lips, his chin, his jaw, doesn't suck at his pulse but bites just shy of breaking the skin. then licks at it like a cat, like a tease, like they're young and it's new. he shudders, his voice hoarse from all but fucking his throat on aki's fingers not moments before, ]
Aki...Aki...
[ wet hot exhales to torn skin. ugetsu breathes him in like a drug. ]
...last chance.
[ to leave. to stop. he would shatter if he did but he says it anyway, trembling under him like a live wire. god he feels so empty. hazily he has the thought he had sometimes when aki would edge him for hours, when the basement flat smelled so obscenely of them that it would've been disastrous for anyone else to enter. trespass. i'll beg. i'll ask. i'll cry. don't you like me like that? aki...don't you want to be inside? please. because there really never has been nor ever will be anything like a full autumn moon. ]
no subject
last chance.
what a kind mercy. ugetsu is giving him an out. a chance to walk away, all over again. but akihiko can't. not again. it's been too many times already. and the tide is just dragging him back in. he should. god, he should. but he can't.
instead. he leans back, just enough to let his gaze settle on ugetsu. to truly take him in. his mouth, a mess. his neck, wrecked. his eyes, feral and hollow in ways that Akihiko can only understand. he brushes the hair from ugetsu's face. his own fingertips twitch. or are they shaking? he can't tell anymore. the clean hand, the one that wasn't in his mouth. those are skirting under the waistband of his pants now. they're not sullied though. far from it]
I won't stop. Please don't ask me again.
[spoken like a confessional]
You said it was my last chance. But isn't it yours too?
[his fingers trace against ugetsu's hips. he used to write songs here. used to listen to the movements of his body. the music lived in ugetsu's body since that day in the music room. before it ever went to paper. sometimes, akihiko thinks he loved him most when he was silent, when he was sobbing. his lips ghost over ugetsu's mouth. hovering. drinking in the exhales] When you told me to let go. I didn't.
[it's so pathetic. it's so cruel. but he presses his hand down harder, exactly where ugetsu needs it. his mouth drags down ugetsu's neck, up to his ear. whispering like a mantra]
Please. Let me in.
[there's no commandeering tone, or demand for compliance. it's a plea. a wish. the ones that ugetsu doesn't say, but akihiko always hears in the back of his mind. let me back in. even when it ruins us]
no subject
the pooled water at the corners of ugetsu's eyes finally trails down. his sight burns and blurs. akihiko is haloed in the non-light of this raindark basement. his voice is like some incomplete piece, a piece ugetsu could still play by heart and akihiko seems keen to let him. though it's a bad idea. the worst idea.
when he feels his hand press, he arches more sharply, bites at aki's mouth if he's still not-quite kissing him, at his skin anywhere if he isn't. ]
Stay or go.
[ those are the options. because ugetsu has only ever come close to letting one person in and that person is the one over him right now. but 'close' is not quite and they have both always known it. for 'close' aki would lose what he has? or will he leave after this? will he return to that steady soft home of something gentle and safe? ugetsu wouldn't blame him. but he would miss him.
he would dream about him; still does anyway.
when he tries to reach up he finds his arm feels heavy, hurts. the one with the glass. fine. he uses his other to skate back up aki's chest, the side of his neck, to curl behind his ear then press just so; angling aki's head down so he can kiss the shell of his ear again, can say, ]
Aki.
no subject
aki. that tether that's still tied too tight. he doesn't answer. at least not with words. his body is the first to answer that. he lowers himself fully, their chests synching with each labored rise and fall. albeit stilted, uneven. the kiss he presses on a particularly angry mark is slow. it's nothing like soft. there's a tremble. maybe there's the long lost hope of piecing everything they broke back together with his mouth. a fruitless dream]
I don't know. How to go. How to stay away.
[the tremble. the knowledge of what it means to stay. with ugetsu. the moonlight, the intimate nights, the moon. all laced with sickly sweet self destruction. it's a sad thing. to ache for something so beautiful, that doesn't want to be saved]
I tried.
[there's the small breakage in his voice. he sees the tears slipping down ugetsu's face. something so raw. he doesn't stop touching him there, not through the ghosts or the tears]
But you never left me. Even when I did.
[have they ever spoken like this? oh to think of how many things could have been fixed if a line of communication hadn't gone unseen. how things could have should have would haves...
his thumb catches under ugetsu's eye. he could steal his grief, shoulder and carry it for him. akihiko wants nothing more. then ugetsu can play his music and still love and hold and exist down in this labyrinth they've created together. the blood reeks, permeating the room. akihko wants to tend to him like a wounded mate, lapping at the injuries. but ugetsu may bristle and flee. or otherwise turn his claws on him. akihiko acknowledges the wound with a slight brush of his elbow.
all before he pulls his hand up, and slowly begins to tug ugetsu's pants down. it's hard to deny, to wait, on something like this]
I'm staying.
no subject
to this.
like an old dance or song or both. ugetsu lifts his hips to make it easier, too easy, to make it perfect. ugetsu doesn't stop staring up at aki for anything, keeps his drunken new moon eyes on the fall and hopes he never stops, hopes despite knowing better than to do so i'm staying doesn't end the same way as before. there's always been delicateness in aki but it's not just that. there's hunger. there's dark. ugetsu lives the most at night whether alone or with someone, whether on stage or in someone's bed. but never more true than with aki. his throat is still sore from his own eagerness, voice still too whispered to show how rough it is, to softened by boxed wine and days without enough sleep or food because he just isn't hungry for those things.
it hurts but ugetsu cranes up anyway to steal another kiss, sloppy. pretty. true. he bites ineffectively as he falls back again, a thin red line from the corner of aki's mouth to the sharp of his chin. the whole time, ugetsu has not stopped shaking. he feels like a fever. the room is quiet despite the rain outside becoming a full storm, instead flooded only with ugetsu's panting breaths, desperation, fear, longing. it is impossible to fake love.
and it's impossible to fake this.
whatever it is.
this time when ugetsu reaches up he presses fingertips to aki's lips only to drag them away with a tease, down his throat where he can feel him swallow or hold his breath or anything anything anything everything. rid of clothing he barely was aware of to begin with all this night, it's easy; it's familiar, for ugetsu to hook one of his legs at aki's hip. he's staying? well. ]
I
[ miss you. am scared of you. want you. ]
--don't believe you.
[ wrong words. always wrong. but if before ugetsu asked aki to let go, this time the hand at his throat trembles and grasps low as it slides to a bare shoulder. he doesn't believe him.
but he wants to.
prove it. ]
no subject
he breaks.
there's no outward indication. not at first, at least. no crack in his voice or grand gesture of the ache. just a soft, collapse that is undeniable behind his eyes. a violin string pulled too tight. finally, snapping. he kisses ugetsu's fingertips before they drag themselves away, like he's trying to give back everything he's stolen. there's the ache to translate music through mouth. maybe that will be enough? the whine that accompanies his ministrations is soft. yet ragged at the edge]
...no, you're right. You shouldn't.
[the silence is so thick, the pair might as well drown]
I looked at you, and left. It felt like the right thing. We were just killing each other. Love shouldn't--
[the laugh that rips from him is a bitter thing. seran wrapped in softness]
But it. You never. I couldn't ever learn how to breathe.
[he places a kiss on the shell of ugetsu's ear. feels the pulse racing wildly. he speaks there, like a confession]
I'm afraid. Afraid I'll ruin you again, or you'll let me. What if we forget how to stand up again?
[carefully, akihiko's lips brush against his temple. when was the last time he spoke this much? haruki always had so many things to say. so much good of the world, and the sun bathing them. and akihiko loved to listen to it all, cling onto every word.
he shifts, finishing the task of dragging down ugetsu's pants. he's disheveled below him, face wet, eyes red and lips swollen. his throat is a cravat of bruises, each darker than the last. his pants are still clad, but ugetsu hooks his leg around him and akihiko angles their hips together. in such a way that has them shuddering]
Let me stay. I'll prove it. I never stopped-- wanting, missing.
[the kiss he presses against ugetsu's neck this time is all ache]
no subject
a romantic.
cheap boxed wine isn't just cheap boxed wine. it's ten year late rebellion to an ambassador father. mugs left unbought or unreplaced are not just mugs. they're reminders of what ugetsu ruined. and the man above him isn't just a man above him.
kaji akihiko has always been more. since a music room. since shared earphones over a piece they know by heart. since "i'm leaving this place".
silent sobs wrack ugetsu's body like a secret storm. he can't understand it, feels like he might die even as he's never felt more alive. his fingers tighten even in aki's short hair, as if to keep him against his neck, as if to keep him at all. the other arm still limp at his side, tingles vaguely. ]
Oh Aki.
[ quiet. and i love you. quiet. and i love you. quiet. and i love you.
if akihiko dared to reach into him he could tear it out of him and ugetsu would thank him for impossible freedom.
so stupid.
of course he'll let him ruin him. escape was his only way out. but here he is again.
the laugh that trickles from his sobs is hysterical but no less quiet. ]
And...if I want it to hurt? What then?
[ it's not right. it's not fair. it is--
-- the truth.
if aki cannot even handle that answer though then it's already over, again. it's not that ugetsu isn't afraid; it's that he doesn't remember a life without fear and so what of it? 'nothing' to lose has always been a lie when akihiko's lips glance against his ear or his bruise bloomed throat. 'everything' a fever dream or just a fever without a dream to speak of. he trembles still, soft little whines escaping him between his inhales and exhales. the hand in his hair slips down to his nape, a loose desperate grasp: i need...
i want. ]
no subject
his breath stutters against ugetsu's neck. ugetsu is storm bright and trembling. he's always been beautiful like this. a ruined radiance, as though his breaking point is just another offering. another offering to the stage he so desperately wishes to play on. ugetsu's laugh echoes softly]
You know me. I'm going to ask you why. Because I have to know. Why do you want it to hurt?
[there's a falter in his voice, while a shudder runs through him. he knocks their hips together again, ripping a whine from his throat. bare skin on fabric. it's never meant to last like that. but something allows it, just for this moment. so caught up in each other's galaxies]
You want to bleed music, bleed love, bleed you.
[his hand slips down, pressing into ugetsu's thigh, pushing his leg up. all to get a better angle. he bites his lip, the quiet softened with the hysterics of ugetsu's laughter. all peppered with those inhales and exhales. like he's trying to learn all over again. how to do this, how to exist as a person and not a machine]
Ugetsu, please.
[he whines, nuzzling against ugetsu's arm, all while those grounding fingertips press into his nape]
no subject
[ nothing left.
that had been the unofficial unwritten unspoken plan. had part of aki known it soon or not so soon? or was it enough for haruki to come into his life like the spring flower murata ugetsu never could nor would be? he won't ask. aki's hand on his thigh is familiar, the way he pushes is also familiar and it makes ugetsu's broken body preen underneath him; like someone whole and glowing just for him. sometimes, he did: just for him. no one else could elicit it from him besides. the closest came was music and even then they could never be equal. ugetsu shifts, impatient, wrecked, wanting, and forces his heavy bloody arm up just to curl shivering fingers into the waist and tug. off. stop teasing.
he knows aki isn't. but he'll blame him anyway.
the world spins even though ugetsu barely moves. he's so dizzy. his heart beats too fast. he's starting to wonder if any of it is even real.
he's hallucinated aki before, after all, had full conversations, had cinema worthy breakdowns, had once a near reconciliation only to shatter it with his own inability to breathe, waking up before the bathtub could kill him. an accident, as it turned out, though of his own making as always: drink, smoke, bed, drink, fight, run. the need to be clean and also see himself for all his dirt.
the concerto that night had been his best yet and ugetsu had wanted to die.
he wanted to live.
but the difference between the two...he was losing the sound of it.
now, days later, he can hear it. the threshold.
shape and touch. akihiko akihiko akihiko. music. there are eight phases of the moon.
for ugetsu, aki is every single one.
and so is music.
he can't reconcile it even now but they're too far gone again. he's staining aki's pants with blood he's sure and doesn't care, tugs again, pointed. hurry. and echoes wretched but wanton, the kind of voice people pay for, ]
Please.
no subject
he stares at ugetsu. shivering, soaked in blood. all his brilliance and madness. his own pulse sluggishly dwindles. ugetsu is one breath away from breaking entirely, he's unraveling completely as he tries to shove akihiko's pants down. he doesn't rush though. he doesn't want ugetsu to dictate the pace through this panic. akihiko holds him. that hand steady on his thigh, another running fingers through those coarse locks]
I'm here.
[quiet words. there's no promise. they've both broken too many of those maybe. reassurance would be far too easy. reality is easy, truth. this may be the only one either has left]
Is this how you need to feel it?
[his fingers drag along the glass lodged in ugetsu's arm. he's taking the time now, to recognize it. or maybe he's recognizing the entirety of their wrcked crescendo. a symphony that's always been feared and craved in a single breath. one by one, he plucks what he can away. the only thing he can do. he moves with care, voice catching against ugetsu's ear]
Tell me where it is. I don't want to hurt you.
[not that kind of hurt at least. maybe that bottle is where it's always been. akihiko can't bear to bring more onto what's already bleeding under, on, ugetsu's skin. but it's been a long time. so many people could have come in and out of here. so many did, under their sheets, while akihiko was still here after all. his thumb brushes carefully between ugetsu's legs]
no subject
and no.
i don't know.
but ugetsu has trained his body to respond and so it does; so he will. perfect teeth worry his lower lip redder, softer and swollen. it hurts. it feels good. or it just feels. to discern the difference is...he's not sure he can. and it takes him longer than usual to understand aki's words. his brow pinches, inarticulate sounds escape him, confused, and when he realizes? another hysterical giggle. silly. aki is so silly.
and gorgeous. and perfect. and the only one.
ugetsu wants to cut himself open under his teeth and his piercings and his long long fingers.
i don't want to hurt you.
there's the difference of course.
on ugetsu's left ear: an earring that was never his and he knew it and still refused to return it, to bring it to akihiko and haruki's door. once, mafuyu stared at it a little too long and ugetsu knew: ah. always the quiet ones. but because it was mafuyu he did not say anything until much later. now, underneath that earring's original owner, ugetsu arches, winsome, and then --
-- opens his red red mouth: ah.
bottle? he doesn't know or remember. he's taken his dissatisfying one night stands outside for a long time, not that they have anything for him either. he lets his eyes fall half-mast again, a look he's given akihiko countless times; strings pressed under knowing fingertips. it'll be enough. and if it's not, fine. ugetsu feels like he's so empty he might die from it.
here. i can help with that. or so he seems to say, reaching back to curl his fingers at aki's hand in his hair, pulling it up only to bring it to his own lips. he mouths at the tips, grazes his teeth, hums along the skin. then takes three all the way to the back of his throat with a choked sigh. with how he lathes his tongue around and through them, he knows it'll be 'enough' even if it still hurts. and isn't it just like them: every step is a test. a challenge.
an are you sure you want this.
are you sure you want
me? ]
no subject
he should.
he won't.
the sight of ugetsu, lips stretched, eyes slipping between consciousness, still trembling while he takes. akihiko exhales, a thick swallow trailing after. his voice, when it finally comes to him, is hoarse. so rough after a night like tonight]
You never make this easy.
[his fingers trace the hollow of ugetsu's cheek. a reverence, maybe this is the apology he wants to give. for everything. he leans in, testing the waters. fingers in and out, in and out. all of this is so long broken. but he.
ugetsu wants this to hurt so bad. like he thinks he deserves the punishment. but akihiko can't, won't.
he grits his teeth, ripping his fingers out past those sinful lips]
I'll be gentle.
[one hand grips ugetsu's thigh as he pushes it up. out of his way. he repositions it, up, maybe braces ugetsu's ankle on his shoulder. wherever. he can give him this without it hurting. even if this is the best way. it's still akihiko. he tugs at ugetsu's entrance with his thumb, swiping his tongue over immediately after]
no subject
don't be.
but in many ways it's what ugetsu needs: someone who doesn't listen to him but still hears him. ]
Mmn...hn....ah...
[ warm. a whining noise that sounds like begging. he's intimately familiar with aki and all the ways he touches. the time he takes. but it's been so long. if aki doesn't hold him down with his other hand, ugetsu is ugetsu; impatient, impossible. he tries to angle his hips and push up. he doesn't need to be treated well. doesn't want to be. his arm throbs, the skin discolored around where the glass was pulled out, but ugetsu wants to feel that all over. from the inside, out.
days or afternoons or evenings or mornings. the dust motes would catch the scant light and look like stars. the music never sounded as good as it should but for this ugetsu made his concession because his head was leaning on aki's shoulder anyway, the earbud in his other ear. all with a background of soundproofed isolation. their own little world, for better or for worse.
things got bad before they got better before they got worse.
something lit up in ugetsu to see the joy akihiko got from playing those incessant drums. and part of him drowned, wanted to drag him down with him: stop leaving. even though he told him to; even though he did everything he could to make it happen; it's all his own fault. the crow cuts off its own wings and it's still bitter underneath the same half of sky. ugetsu dreams. ugetsu wakes. ugetsu
misses him.
oh.
but he's here.
to akihiko it will look like some strange mix of how ugetsu looks when he's blissed out beyond imagination, fucked out, and wasted, and high after a performance gone so well it might crush him one day. his breaths come as wet needy little things and he doesn't hear himself, just reaches a clumsy blood stained hand to aki's head, his ear, thumbing at his piercing. mine. you were mine.
i think you were. ]
no subject
their lost small world. it seems so far away now. all those nights spent bathed in the moonlight here.
akihiko holds him down, not rough. firm. the pressure that screams i'm here. somewhere akihiko refuses to depart fully is ugetsu. even if they both know it's inevitable. maybe not this time? maybe akihiko is too far in now, he doesn't know if he could go home without shame littering every inch of him. he's not a liar.
his fingers tighten against ugetsu's thigh, his tongue pressing in deeper while one finger keeps ugetsu open. he'll carve patience in the shape of ugetsu's name. even if ugetsu only craves the exact opposite. but that hand at his ear. it screams
mine.
akihiko nearly chokes on it, anguished under the full body shiver that rips through him. he leans into the touch, lets it scald him. he groans as he plunges his tongue in and out. he can feel ugetsu's pulse, fast and stuttering. just like the trapped bird he's always been. akihiko pulls back for a moment to whisper against ugetsu's thigh]
You're the only one I could write music for.
[and without another word, he pushes his tongue back in]
no subject
sometimes in the morning aki would make them coffee, before the old mug and after. sometimes ugetsu would cling to him like a real first love and impart unto him that leaving the bed at all was a hand no worse than death. sometimes the basement apartment lay as if abandoned: neither of them there at all, akihiko doing what he had to do to have a place to stay or to get by, and ugetsu doing everything he could to run from it all only to wind up back on a polished stage. like a long leashed figurine in a music box.
once, recently, ugetsu screamed until he could barely breathe. the basement kept his secret.
he couldn't hear anything.
not a nightmare but a waking death.
it's not hard to say what would have happened if his manager hadn't come in just half an hour later.
right now, he's more alive than he's been in he doesn't know how long.
akihiko opens him up the way no one else ever could. it's a shame ugetsu's too wasted to fully comprehend his words. or maybe it's a blessing. the faint touch of his piercing against the tender skin of his thigh, the wet heat of his breath. shaking. shuddering. falling apart.
falling in love.
the same?
the hand curled like possession at aki's ear drags trembling fingernails against his head, from temple and back: yes, yes, yes. there you are. his own voice is foreign to him when it slurs, too hot and too destroyed, ]
Why--ah mmn...
[ why won't you hurt me? why do you care? why are you here?
his vision swims. tears, yes. but also black spots. overwhelmed and begging for more. because if this is the last time akihiko makes this mistake -- and ugetsu knows it is one, he is one for him -- then he needs all of him. his green eyed sun that might swallow the crow colored moon, the music he would write, the glass he pulls out of his body.
his heart. just for now. just one more time.
maybe it could anchor ugetsu's, beating hummingbird fast and ghost silent. ]
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yet, in reality it's everything.
akihiko simply can't bring himself to ruin and wreck this man. leaving him with nothing but the silence of this basement. he can't. his fingers grip ugetsu tighter instead. the kind of grip that should say you're safe here, but maybe it's just the kind that makes him cry harder.
you were always too much for me.
i could never be enough for you.
he has to leave. but he can't stop. ugetsu's hand incessantly raking, clawing through his hair. it's like he's carving yes into his scalp. akihiko would rather die than pull away now. the tremble spreads like a virus between them. there's no telling where one ends and the other begins. his mouth presses kindly against ugetsu's entrance. a soft murmur of something unspoken between them. ugetsu is too far gone for words now anyways.
maybe if he does this hard, soft, anything enough--whole enough--maybe it won't end. akihiko never wants this to end, he realizes, as he slides a finger alongside his tongue. his lids drop heavily, succumbing to the chilled heat of this place. it's always been ugetsu]
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all of them useless. even the way they hurt him did nothing.
ugetsu became his own blackhole, smiling glimmers of a comet tail on stage, shattered light of a stained glass cathedral and hundreds of white smiles that only meant people knew how to bare their teeth and prove their statuses. all the reviews couldn't be better. all his benefactors, never happier. and ugetsu...
ah he can't breathe.
aki's name chokes out of him like he actually might be dying.
the hand in aki's hair, at his ear, falls away not because he lets it but because he has no choice, the dead weight of it heavy against the bloodied wine soaked floor where sheet music tears and half melts away. tingling. he can barely feel it, he realizes. a deep contrast to akihiko's steadfast worship. he can't help how he clenches down around that finger and tongue, desperate. starving. heat knots in the pit of his stomach and burns outward. he can't stop crying, stop gasping these heady little moans that reach and curl down into aki like secret notes, wanting, needing, begging; notes only he can hear:
more.
the only person ugetsu has ever asked that of; the only one he ever will. ]
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maybe shattering into pieces. maybe staying intact. there was never any solid guess.
worship carved into flesh. akihiko carefully slides another finger to join his tongue, and the first. he hears ugetsu's body scream, feels it ache more. a note threaded through with everything ugetsu's body refuses to vocally let him ask for. akihiko's is hooked, dragged forward into it.
i never stopped hearing you is what his ministrations scream in return. akihiko is still maddeningly gentle. but there's worship at play now. he has never stopped hearing uetsu. not on the stage, or the silence in his sun kissed apartment. ugetsu is nowhere at all, yet everywhere all at once. every smile he faked, every night he let someone split him open only to stitch himself shut before morning.
akihiko gives him so much more now. he can't even think of his guilt, of haruki and mafuyu when they find out. but not in the way ugetsu craves. the way akihiko needs to. full of ache and love. the thing that two people who have never truly loved can know.
his free hand finds ugetsu's limp on the floor, threading their fingers together. a silent plea. stay with me. their song. their prayer]
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was it good?
not the way others call it as such.
aki never lied to him.
that was always ugetsu's specialty.
but their bodies were honest. music was honest. silence less so. conversation even less.
the sounds that escape ugetsu sound too perfectly split between something good and something bad. yes. no. it feels good. it hurts. it's everything. it's nothing. aki. aki. aki. the feeling of those fingers lacing with his own feels like being struck until he can't breathe. his hand spasms, not quite able to tighten the way the rest of him does. the pale arch of his back is a crescent moon, pulled taut, the knee hooked on akihiko's shoulder curling tighter like he could force him deeper this way. but there's no real leverage in it. the wine has made ugetsu too pliant even at the same time that he's wound so tight he might break.
all the inarticulate, slurred warm huffs of air and gasps of not enough muddle together, objectively quiet but flooding the basement apartment, obscene mixed with the sound of aki's worship. and yet. not enough. ugetsu knows it. akihiko knows it. but the thing is, it's not enough for ugetsu, obviously, and yet the other truth is this: it's not enough for aki either. why they work. why they don't.
why there's no one else.
no one else. ]
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Ugetsu...
[akihiko's fingers are delicately slow, trying to anchor ugetsu through the chaotic confines of his mind. here in the reek of wine and sex and music that nobody else can hear. in this little place nobody else exists.
there's so much damage. wrecking ugetsu's every little gasp, whimper, anything that bubbles from his throat. akihko hears it all. the pleases in every little sob. the i love yous in every broken whine. and the whys everytime his body thrashes under akihiko's fingertips. akihiko can only give him so much like this, he can't bear to hurt someone he loves and cherishes so deeply.
but he gives what he can.
two fingers and his tongue. it's what he wants to give, what ugetsu's body can take (despite his mind screaming otherwise. for more suffering). and that's what akihiko gives him. agonizingly slow, meticulous. every stroke, every push of his tongue, every curl of his fingertips. the desperate press of their bodies. he arches up where ugetsu's leg is curled around him. burying himself in all of this, maybe it's something that will finally stick this time.
he just wants the sound. that torn, holy sound ugetsu makes when he's falling apart. akihiko wonders how long it's been since he sobbed like this. nobody else ever hears it. nobody else ever will]
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and then for a few moments, long moments, ugetsu's entire body gives with violent shudders, hot and wet and trembling like a struck chord. dark swallows him, those snags of shadow blotting out everything else finally too. he floats, hasn't the wherewithal or the soberness to tell aki any kind of truth or lie. everything feels heavy. he sighs, half whines. why?
it's a dream isn't it? he's going to open his eyes and he'll be alone.
just how it's supposed to be.
just as he's afraid of.
just.
except no. ugetsu's eyes slowly open, though it's excruciating. his hand spasms more than grips at akihiko's. and...in the midst of the wine and the blood, that's a scent unmistakably aki. he shudders, eyes fluttering. not gone? not a dream? would explain why his body aches, hurts even, despite akihiko's tenderness. what he does not realize: how his breaths are coming a little too fast still, too shallow. all he can manage, stumbled and round as it is, ]
Aki...
[ just his name and also not at all. tears still leak traitorous and alarming down the sides of his face. he doesn't notice, can't feel much beyond the burning anywhere aki touches, needing his hands his mouth his everything all over. his leg slides if aki doesn't hold it in place, down his shoulder to hook against the bend of his arm, splayed open. sweat beads down his skin even though he can't feel it, mixing with the mess he's made of his own stomach. unconsciously, he's still trembling. dimly he's aware aki's not planning to fuck him, not like how he wants, not like this. as it is, he's a boneless mess on his own floor, barely able to move at all.
aki he thinks, since he can't find his voice again. even if he lied, tried to coax akihiko into filling him until he screamed and said it was good for him, even if he begged...it feels like he won't relent this time. ugetsu doesn't even know why. it just seems...true. ]
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but for the time being, he doesn't move.
he works ugetsu through his spiral, so agonizingly gentle. ugetsu is boneless under him, barely able to keep himself together. always so feeble. he pulls away, pressing his lips to ugetsu's thigh. it's trembling under him]
I'm still here.
[he whispers like a promise. his voice low and cracked because he's broken too. there's no going back now. a deeply ugly thing he's let himself do here. it's slow and unbearable, watching someone you love hurt themselves. know how powerless you are to stop it and can only hold them through it.
he slowly crawls up the length of ugetsu's body. his nose brushes sweaty strands from ugetsu's face, just like he always has. but delicately so. the wrong touch might send him shattering all over again. he presses their foreheads together. he can't bear to let this go. why? why can't he let ugetsu go?
because he loves the violin]
Please don't make me leave.
[his voice breaks. he won't say why. he doesn't think ugetsu could survive hearing it. that this--this wreckage on the floor, this beautiful ruined thing that's begging to be broken again--akihiko wants him whole. not hollow and begging for--
so akihiko just holds ugetsu. lets the silence fill. it's just the whisper of ugetsu's labored breathing, the trickle of his sobs. akihiko lets his heart break against the echo. he's still wanted, somehow. he's still needed, somehow. he doesn't want to fuck ugetsu into forgetting. he wants to just stay.
oh he doesn't deserve someone like haruki. he deserves this desolate bunker, free of sunlight]
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