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noirlevity · 8 years

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Tango

Pairing: Mikorei Summary: Mikoto is experiencing health problems. Much to his dismay, Totsuka enrolled him in a ballroom class where he meets Munakata Reishi. Munakata Reishi made him want things he thought he never wanted--things that made him feel alive and consciously human.

Prompt: First Time

Wrote this in the week we didn't have classes. I have to move on so I'm posting this early for Mikoreiweek. Loosely inspired by 10 Dance because while I was thinking of what to write, the scenes from the manga streamed through my mind. The other prompts will be posted on my fanfic blog. Out of seven I decided to write only four.

I will be writing an extra chapter for this!

Mikoto hated riding the train. He hated the drawling grumble of the engine. The trundle of alloy, steel, and metal. And People. Having to put up with a breath or a sigh from a stranger was simply exhausting. He hated the noise that their existence made, the rancid smell of sweat and vinegar that wafted from their greasy skins, and the look of their tired, exhausted faces. If it would be up to him, he would rather stay at home so that he could get away from the crowd, the hubbub the would greet him, and the grave sound of swerving tires when he arrived at his destination. But he had no choice. Totsuka enrolled him in ballroom class. So, he was on his way to his first session.

When he arrived at the designated place, he was guided into a desolate little room. The paneled mirrors greeted him with a reflection of his image as he stood right beside the door, the dark imposing mini grand piano at the far off corner of the room, and the sitting figure of a man sifting through a stack of documents. He was reading through Mikoto’s application. Flitting his eyes across the paper with utmost attention, the flapping sound of paper did not seem to exist, nor the fact that Mikoto had already arrived. The scent of tobacco that Mikoto brought with him permeated then settled in the air. It hung heavily in the atmosphere so that the other had to crinkle his nose and breathe out heavily. Then, he raised his eyes, stood up, thought for a second, and said,

“Is this your first time…Suoh Mikoto?”

Mikoto didn’t like answering questions, much more the kind which felt like an interrogation instead of just a mere question.

“This ‘s my first.”

The other turned his eyes to the mini grand piano, adjusted his glasses on his nose, and sighed.

“As expected.”

The way in which the other said it sounded like a scoff. The sound of his voice, the way the last syllable escaped from the other’s mouth made Mikoto think he heard the other smile. A little bit offended, Mikoto raised his eyebrows and frowned; his mouth dropped in a grave curve. It was the first time he encountered someone as confident and brazen as the other; it was the first time he had met someone that had pissed him off that quickly.

This feeling had intensified when he saw the other saunter languidly towards him in long strides. When he reached him, the other cupped him by the shoulders and guided him to stand near the mini-grand piano. His touch was eerily cold. For Mikoto, it was like something that one had to avoid on instinct. But before he could back away, the other already held him in place. The other said, mirth crystal clear in his voice as if he was trying to sound welcoming,

“Let me look at you.”

It was annoying—the way his instructor looked at him as if he was afflicted with some sort of disease, and he was trying to find out what it was. Nonetheless, as the other fluttered his heavy eyelids, Mikoto—thinking that he didn’t need additional headaches—just stared at his instructor.

He observed him. His gaze rested upon the other’s downcast eyes. He never thought violet was an actual eye color. Those violet orbs roamed on his body, making him conscious of himself as they observed him. The lashes that fringed them were thick and matted. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Mikoto blinked, and then found himself looking at the other’s nose perched with the steel curve of his glasses, then ultimately to the other’s parted mouth. Skyline teeth hid behind a cloud of cherry mouth. He felt like he was looking at a masterpiece as he studied the way in which the other parted his lips.

The air of nonchalance surrounding the other was sweet. His ignorance, naivety, and his lack of knowledge of how dangerous Mikoto actually was, was very entertaining to watch. It amused Mikoto, forgetting that it was technically disturbing for a man like himself to gaze at another man and muse about what he thought of him. Aroused with the desire to get the other’s attention, Mikoto felt like he wanted to be risky.

“Ne.." he drawled, in his usual lazy earthly voice.

At this, the other raised his eyes to gaze at Mikoto’s face, looking directly into his eyes. He smiled: crow’s feet tugged at the corners of the curve of his eyelids and his mouth in a crescent.

“I am your instructor Munakata Reishi, I am friends with Mr. Totsuka Tatara. He told me you were having health problems and made me accept you for a one on one session, which I no longer take. This means you are the only student I accommodate during Fridays and Wednesdays’ morning sessions. I hope you would arrive on time. I am already here an hour before, so being late is a No-No. As to the house rules, I noticed that you love to smoke. I do not tolerate smoking, so I suggest you do not smoke on the said days you are to meet me. Since our session is in the morning, you can smoke right after we finish.”

Reishi’s amused eyes drifted downwards, then up.

“Oya.. Mr. Totsuka already briefed you the right outfit to wear; that is splendid. Now..” Reishi leaned in, their faces only an inch from a kiss. At the moment, Mikoto decided that while Munakata Reishi was good to look at, he was a pain in the ass. But that was just the beginning.

Mikoto refused to be near Reishi. This was a problem because in tango, the first dance they were going to learn, it was imperative for the partners to be close.

“Suoh, I do not understand why you refuse to let me guide you. We are both men, why are you embarrassed?” Reishi said with genuine curiosity and exasperation in his eyes, after he glided his hands across Mikoto’s shoulder for the umpteenth time only to be rejected violently.

Mikoto clicked his tongue, “Munakata…” he paused right after he pronounced the other’s name in a crisp and clear manner so that it made Reishi flit his disappointed eyes towards him.

“…this ’s not because we’re both men, or me being embarrassed, the problem ’s you.” That was the longest sentence Mikoto ever said to Reishi in three weeks.

Munakata thought about what Mikoto said. After thinking it over, he sighed, “You better see it being performed then so that you may understand. Tango is very beautiful and intimate, and is one of my favorite ballroom dances...”

When Reishi began lecturing about the history of tango, Mikoto furrowed his brows in irritation. The man talked too damn much. After the long and exhaustive talk about the dance, Reishi, instructed Mikoto on how to manage the stereo, and then called for a partner.

“I’ll be taking on the role of the female. Watch closely Suoh Mikoto. Watch the way the body glides, the footwork, and the elegance of the movements.”

Reishi walked over to the mini grand piano, sat on the chair and took off his flip-flops. He took out a black stiletto from his bag and wore it. This made Mikoto’s eyebrow quirk in disbelief, yet his eyes roamed on the pale flesh of Reishi’s legs which he now realized was long and lean; then his eyes settled on Reishi’s feet: the curve of its soles, the knobs of his toes, and the way it sloped on the sleek footwear somehow made him breathe heavily. When Reishi strutted towards the center of the room, the sound of his footfalls echoing, Mikoto’s eyes followed his every movement, unable to take his eyes off of him. He thought that Reishi had a weird aura about him that he could not understand, and it annoyed him for no reason.

Reishi and his partner stood far from each other. Carrying his weight on his left leg, with a tap of his foot, Reishi looked over his shoulder and gazed at Mikoto.

“Suoh please push the play button on the stereo.”

When Mikoto did as asked, silence turned into the hum of the accordion. Then slowly came a succession of three notes, running heavily up the stairs of the ledger lines, which then faded into a prolonged pause as it reached the third note, clinging to it so that its rasp vibrated through the layers of Mikoto’s skin as he listened. Dramatically, the accordion fell back to a chord. In backward succession, the notes ran down the stair of the ledger lines quickly, as if it was chased down, and faced with a dead end, it wanted to come back, unscathed; then, another wail of surprise from a chord, sweeping off the dramatic vibration as it plunged finally into the ocean of a prolonged rasp of a sole note. By the time this succession of measures repeated, Reishi sauntered dramatically across the floor: with pointed toes, with eyes serious and focused. He traced the floor with the tip of his stiletto, toes en pointe as if he was making ripples on the surface of water. He brushed his right foot around his left foot in a semi-circle and then repeated this again until he was close enough to his partner. He turned to the side sharply, raised his left leg in a precise flick—yet with grace—and then planted his left foot on the ground. He lifted his right heel up, bent his left leg and gave his partner a whiplash of the eyes as he turned his head to him. While he was at it, he flipped what was supposed to be an imaginary skirt. Sensually, he raised his willowy arms and swayed his narrow hips provocatively so that it made Mikoto’s jaw drop.

Reishi pretended to glide his right hand around the back of his head and ran it on the left side of his face. His left hand perched on the curve of his neck; he ran it right above his skin. His hands roamed his body, tracing the outline of his frame with force, making the display quite fascinating to watch. His facial expression was dramatic, as though he was in pain, beseeching someone to stay. Reishi perched his left hand on his waist, raised his right hand that was slightly bent and then beckoned the other to come to him.

His partner sauntered in the same manner, circling his pointed toes over his other foot as if he was writing calligraphy, and the swathe of rosewood that stretched from corner to corner was his canvas. When they were close enough, he pulled Reishi towards him: their bodies’ taut, movements graceful, and faces inches away from a kiss. Reishi’s partner ran his knuckles across the soft flesh of Reishi’s arm as he gazed at Reishi’s glossy lips. Reishi, on the other hand, looked at the other’s lashes, breathless. His partner placed his hand on his wrist, running his fingers across the soft skin, and raised it gently. While they were at it, Reishi’s raised his left hand and placed it at the small of his partner’s back, slowly, sensually, so that Mikoto swallowed a lump in his throat and felt quite bothered.

The partner ran his hand across the soft, thin flesh of Reishi’s wrist, trailing it until he finally cupped Reishi’s right hand. He held it firmly. His other hand was perched on Reishi’s back; just above the swell of the other’s behind. Slender bony fingers close together, chin almost bumping against chin, he pulled him in: their bodies pressed, now staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Mikoto could have sworn Reishi actually blushed. Reishi walked backwards dramatically with the same footwork he used at the beginning, clinging to his partner; and the other as if carrying him like he was something precious.

Mikoto was put off by the display, but he could not deny, that when Reishi danced, it was as if he was a completely different person. The way Reishi creased his brows, the way he bent his back as if he was being laid down by his partner on a bed, and the way his partner seemingly planted wet kisses on his chest up the column of his throat with full moon mouth made Mikoto unable to look away; it was as if he was watching them make love.

After the demonstration, Reishi asked Mikoto about his opinion. But the other just shrugged his shoulders and said: "'twas okay."

Reishi wanted to retort something, but he just adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and looked at Suoh Mikoto gravely. He took offense at people who did not appreciate art.

"That's what we are going to do Suoh. You must remember I expect you to do what we just did."

"Hmm." Mikoto said dismissively.

Reishi realized teaching Mikoto would be a difficult task. While Mikoto expected that pleasing Reishi would probably be as impossible as grabbing the stars.

"Suoh.. I asked one of my students to partner with you. She's..."

Mikoto frowned and scratched the back of his head, lazily. Reishi was put off with the behavior.

"Excuse me. But that is not polite Suoh Mikoto. When I speak, you must listen. This is what it means to be teacher and student even if we are of the same age. Furthermore, it is basic that you listen to someone when one is addressing you. I cannot believe I still need to lecture someone like you with regards to proper manners."

Mikoto looked away. Noisy, Reishi was too damn noisy.

"Don't wanna partner with anyone."

"I see. Therefore I conclude, you aren't very much interested in this, or your health for that matter. Mr. Totsuka.."

"Munakata... partner with me."

Reishi was surprised. He almost stuttered. Almost.

"Excuse me? Did I hear that correctly?"

"Partner with me I said."

"Ah." Reishi adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I see. Then it's settled I'll be your partner Suoh Mikoto if it could force you to dance."

Mikoto furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. He did not understand what the other meant.

"You're missing the point,” he scoffed.

---

"Munakata..." Mikoto pulled Reishi towards him forcefully making the other land heavily on his chest, their faces close to each other. Mikoto just stared at him without blinking, holding him tight. While it surprised Reishi--the suddenness of the pull--it made him smile.

"Ah. Suoh. There is no gentleness in your touch. This will not look smooth, rather this would very much illustrate to the audience how barbaric you truly are, how uncouth and..."

Reishi interrupted himself. Mikoto just stared at him with a look that didn’t reveal what he was thinking, and it made Reishi feel like he was stepping over a line.

"Here. Let me guide you." Reishi withdrew from him, placed his hands on Mikoto's chest and pushed him gently.

"You put too much force. I am not heavy, am I? So you need not pull me as if I'm about to fall off a cliff." He took Mikoto's hand in his, gripped on it--making Mikoto drift his eyes to their tangled hands--and walked away at a fair distance away from Mikoto.

"Just try tugging me as gently as you can. I should fall in your arms, pressed against your chest, alright, our faces close."

Faces close, Mikoto liked that line. He smirked and obeyed: pulling Reishi gently. Reishi twirled and landed on his chest perfectly. Supported by his right hand that he placed on Mikoto's muscular chest so that he wouldn't land on Mikoto's mouth. Mikoto cupped Reishi's body with his folded arms, holding himself back from doing something he might regret. Regrets often made fools out of wise men. Mikoto certainly wasn’t wise, but he had to act decently. Just like that, they stared at each other. When Reishi felt something odd from the way Mikoto looked at him, he shifted in his embrace

"Splendid. That's how you do it.

Mikoto dropped his gaze to Reishi's moving shoulder blades and licked his lips.

"What's next?"

"You ran your hand across my back, and stop in the middle."

Mikoto obeyed. He ran his hand across Reshi's back. Feeling Reishi’s skin underneath the thin elastic cloth of the other’s dancing outfit made Mikoto feel hot; he felt himself burn at the sensation of Reishi's flesh. He swallowed and breathed out as clouds of improper thoughts scudded over the skyline of his mind as he finally reached the slope above the swell of Reishi’s ass.

Mikoto's touch and breath felt like a burn on Reishi's skin. It made his heart beat fast, confusing him. But he just ignored it: for propriety's sake. He fluttered his eyelids and managed to say, calmly, without anything that may reveal the state of his mind,

"That's perfect. After that... Ah, if I wear high heels, I would be much taller than you. That's no good.."

Mikoto was still stuck in his fantasy so much that Reishi's voice faded from his mind. Focused on the warm body he was holding, he blinked, flared his nose and breathed in Reishi's scent. It was intoxicatingly sweet that somehow, he wanted to take a bite off of Reishi's shoulder. But he stopped himself. Oblivious to this, Reishi cupped him on the shoulder.

"That's enough with the turning and this pose. Polish this with perfection. This should not look forced Suoh. And remember to keep your posture. Straighten your back and chin up. You always tend to slouch."

Reishi pushed him away gently, but Mikoto didn't let him go; instead he pressed him to him, making Reishi a bit confused and flustered so that the light from the incandescent light shining on him made his glasses gleam to hide the look in his eyes.

"Munakata..." Mikoto raised his eyes and stared at his instructor. He just looked at him as though he was hesitant on what he was about to say.

"How close?"

Reishi paused for a moment, shifting in the other's embrace, feeling like a fool feeling what he was feeling. He didn't know whether or not to get angry at Mikoto for not listening to anything he had said.

"You're leaning away." Mikoto breathed; leaning in closer to bridge the gap between the two of them; irritation apparent on his face. He trailed his curled fingers on the side of Reishi’s thigh; it felt like the sharp edge of a knife on Reishi’s skin. Reishi wanted to grab his hand away, but he was not in the position to do so. He was desperately trying to stop Mikoto from leaning closer. And his other arm was wrapped around Mikoto’s neck so he didn’t really have alternatives.

"I.. In this pose Suoh Mikoto. As you are holding on to me very forcefully right now..”

Mikoto buried his face in the crook of Reishi’s neck and breathed, making the other shudder, but he still stayed completely calm.

“..firstly, you shouldn't grab me like that. Just pull me in and make sure our bodies are pressed, then, slowly rest your cheek upon my cheek."

Mikoto raised his head, pulled him and rested his cheek upon the other's cheek. Reishi felt the warmth of Mikoto's skin much more vividly that he couldn't help swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Then?" Mikoto whispered.

"As I.. as I am cupping your shoulders right now, af.. after this step... we walk using that brush step I taught you."

Mikoto withdrew and looked at him in the eye. They just stared at each other for a while. Reishi felt too conscious of himself to the point that somehow he found it ridiculous to be acting like that. He got reminded of that irritatingly corny romance novel he had read, and it somehow made him feel irritated.

"What is it Suoh? Is there a problem?"

Mikoto clicked his tongue and looked away. He wanted to pull the other even closer, and he didn't know why.

"Annoying." He said instead. He was annoyed at himself, at what they were doing, at Reishi most of all, for making him feel things.

"It is indeed very annoying to be physically very close to another person, worse is being pressed against another man." Reishi dropped his gaze on the floor. Then raised it to Mikoto's golden orbs.

"Are you uncomfortable with this particular closeness? Is that why you refused on our earlier sessions to let me touch you? Tango as I have said to you is.."

"Don't mind being close. It's just that..."

"It's just what?"

It's just that.. I want..

Mikoto clicked his tongue, "The steps are difficult. I slouch; I don't straighten my back. I am lazy as fuck."

I hold on to you too much

"Language. Mind your language." Reishi adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose knowingly.

"As they say, practice makes perfect. And that is why I am here, is it not? —To guide you and teach you. Do not fret. I'll support you in whatever, however, I can."

Mikoto let him go. He needed to, not because he wanted to.

"Mm.."

It was early in the morning. And Totsuka entered the room full of energy and joy. Mikoto who was sleeping on the couch was awoken by his cheerful voice.

"Mikoto! So how did you find your ballroom lessons?" Totsuka asked, beaming with radiance.

Mikoto frowned, turned on the couch and pretended to be asleep.

"Hey! Don't ignore me. Tell me, how is everything? Did you find my friend Munakata Reishi quite amiable? What do you think of him, King? Isn't he awesome?"

Mikoto groaned.

Totsuka thought for a second. He looked like a detective trying to solve the mystery that lied in Mikoto's heart.

"I saw stacks of Tango books in your room, I wondered why you bought a lot. Somehow you also bought a book that said, "How to date a dance instructor". It made me curious."

Leaning in playfully, Totsuka, added, "Hmmm..you like him don't you?"

Irritated, Mikoto turned and pushed Totsuka off the couch.

"Leave me alone."

The other chuckled and continued, "We're going to a play, King. Next next month! I'm very excited to see it. You’re gonna love it I bet, so I already made preparations for the two of us."

Clicking his tongue, Mikoto turned away. Unable to sleep back because Totsuka kept on talking, he decided to take a bath and go to his lessons early, if only to avoid Totsuka's exhausting talk. Mikoto hated it whenever Totsuka got too excited about things because he could never keep up with the guy’s energy and enthusiasm.

When he arrived at the studio, it was still nine in the morning. He saw that Reishi was alone. He was standing very still; head bowed and was wearing a body fit top, shorts, and tights that emphasized his slender and long legs. He had seen those lump of flesh before. Reishi loved wearing tight fitting leggings on their sessions since it was more convenient to move about with, but somehow it still quite bothered him, after all that.

As it was not the time for his lesson yet, he just stood behind the door and watched Reishi through the glass.

Reishi raised his arm slowly, gracefully; the fingers organized in a way that it looked like he was cupping water in his hand. As his gaze followed the movement of his arm, Mikoto could see the sinews, the bulge of the other's muscles. The mantle of flesh that covered them glistened against the bright incandescent light of the studio that Mikoto knew that he was sweating really hard.

Reishi looked so graceful and elegant. The flick of his wrist, the grace in his movements and the sharpness in which he turned, the manner in which he brushed his foot against the floor and pirouetted made Mikoto breathless. He couldn't take his eyes off of him, and how much he was exuding such a tantalizing charm right before his eyes. The sight made Mikoto wonder about Reishi's hard work, his practices, and the struggles he went through to achieve what he was at present. The fact that he was practicing, and the fact that he was doing it like he was performing on stage made Mikoto think that Reishi must really love dancing. The emotions that he was able to put in those movements were apparent. And Mikoto could not help but like this part of him as well. He had come to like him despite being a nagging annoying prick all the time. He had come to like him despite being too strict and too uptight about everything. He had come to like him for being himself.

Mikoto noticed that Reishi's chest heaved greedily after he was done with his routine. With arms akimbo, the other’s eyes were focused on the floor. Then, he fell, unmoving like a statue. Munakata Reishi was tired, very tired. He closed his eyes and thought of wanting to sleep. He was invited to perform at a play and he was quite nervous; it had been a long time since he did Kabuki so he was quite anxious. Whenever he was anxious, he danced nonstop just to fend off his anxiety. This was one of those times.

I’m tired. Reishi mused.

Mikoto, who was outside hurriedly entered the studio and walked towards Reishi's slumped figure. Reishi didn't hear him enter though, for his mind was in a haze; he just kept on thinking about his lines for the play, about pressuring himself to perfect everything.

Mikoto kneeled in front of him. Trying to distract himself from Reishi's helplessness, and the annoying way in which sweat trailed down the other’s face, he tapped the cold water bottle on Reishi cheek.

"Oi, can you hear me?"

Suoh? Why is it that I hear your voice? Ah, I forgot we have a session today.

Reishi cracked an eye open and saw flames for hair. He blinked and saw Mikoto's handsome face loom over him and realized that Mikoto was cradling him in his arms. In disbelief, he just blinked and just stared at him, as though he was an apparition.

"Never really thought you work so damn hard about everything."

Reishi closed his eyes; he thought he was dreaming. Sometimes he dreamt of Mikoto like this and most of the time he didn't know how to distinguish his dreams from reality, especially when Mikoto looked so surreal and breathtakingly handsome. Mikoto just stared at his pale face. He ran his eyes across Reishi's heaving chest and swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight of it. The rise and fall made him conscious of the warm body that he was cradling—that body he very much wanted to cup a feel or two. And He didn't know what to do. Before he could do anything stupid, he placed his fist on its surface instead, as if this could compensate for the need to touch him. Wanting to feel the other more, he cupped Reishi's shoulder and brushed his thumb across its curve, slowly; gently raking the pad of his fingertip as though he was sifting through the pages of a book he may never finish reading.

"Munakata.." he called. The water bottle he was clutching in his other hand wrinkled in his grasp—like a leaf shying away from a flame. Somehow, Reishi's defenselessness made him lust. He blinked to fend away the sight of Reishi's sprawled figure on his lap; but when he opened his eyes, it still remained. His pupils dilated at the sight of the other's eyelids; he wanted to take the other's glasses off and kiss the plump flesh. The other's high nose and soft narrow lips reminded him of an unchartered land that men like him wanted to take for themselves. At the thought of this, his throat bobbed up and down. Moments like this made Mikoto think that illusions were better than reality because he could ignore it if it was the former. Yet reality—real things—made him think, made him wonder, it made him want. He cannot ignore something that he wanted. But right now, he wasn’t allowed to want, so he just tapped the cold water bottle against Reishi's cheek. Again.

Cold.

Reishi lolled his head to the side, exposing the sinews of his neck that crawled like a vine up to the bottom of his ears. Mikoto pressed his index and thumb together and felt the soft wisps of Reishi's dark hair underneath its grasp.

"Munakata.... hey... drink.."

Reishi didn't listen. He was musing in his sleep about how irritating Mikoto was.

Pissed off, and desperately wanting to stop himself from fantasizing, Mikoto clicked his tongue and drank the water. After that... Reishi felt something soft press against his mouth. The softness was followed by cold water gliding down his throat

He creased his brows and opened his eyes… and found Mikoto's closed eyelids and forehead too close for comfort. At that, he closed his eyes shut and clenched his hand into a fist.

Mikoto withdrew, wiping his mouth using the back of his hand, a bit flustered.

Damn. Look what you made me do bastard.

Looking down, Mikoto noticed the gleam of water as it sluiced down the corner of Reishi's mouth. He would lick it off if he could, just to taste the ocean on Reishi’s skin, but instead, he wiped it off using his thumb. The pressure he used was strong. Staring at Reishi, he imagined the other writhe underneath him as he thrust deep into him; he imagined how that closed mouth of his would open and moan his name, and maybe beg for more. But what was most appalling was the fact that he also wanted Reishi to fuck him, make a mess out of him. He often wondered how Reishi’s mouth would feel on his flesh; he often wondered how Reishi would hold him when they do it. Mikoto was surprised at his own thoughts, so he stopped rubbing his thumb across the smooth tufts of Reishi’s ebony hair. On the other hand, the touch made Reishi curl and scramble to sit down away from him.

"Suoh!" Reishi adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose nervously.

Surprise faded into calmness. Suoh. Mikoto echoed in his mind. He felt a warm feeling towards the man before him, despite the fact that he desired him. As the other spoke, he heard the other’s voice fade out, so that he could hear nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat, the sound of his creaking fingers, and the impetuous rush of blood flowing in his veins.

Reishi breathed out and stared at him grimly.

“Suoh…”

At that, Mikoto blinked, then he looked away and lied down on his side: supporting himself using his strong elbow and resting his head on the palm of his hand, pretending he didn’t feel anything.

"Munakata.. you work too damn much. You keep on lecturing me about my health but.."

"Speak no further Suoh Mikoto. I know pretty much I get like is every time. I don't take my health lightly. For your information, I was just resting.

Noticing Reishi’s flustered face, Mikoto wondered whether the other had a fever.

"You're red. 'Dya have a fever?" Mikoto lazily reached out to touch Reishi's forehead. Reishi stiffened at his touch. Mikoto's eyes trailed down to Reishi’s shoulder blades; when he gazed at the protruding bones, he couldn't help but swallow hard and run his tongue across his upper lip. Reishi’s assets often got him caught between wanting and not wanting, between doing and not doing. This time was no different. Like always, he sighed and felt Reishi's neck using the back of his hand. It's the least he could do for himself.

"You're okay. Don't over do it. You still have to teach me remember?" at that Mikoto raised his eyes and smiled slightly at Reishi.

"You are correct."

After that, Mikoto constantly went early for his dance lessons to observe Reishi dance. Reishi noticed this and would often invite him in.

"Suoh. I appreciate you coming early to accompany me. However, you don't need to do this you know."

Looking away, Mikoto replied, "I like seeing you dance, is that bad?"

Reishi was surprised at Mikoto's response.

"I see. You like my dancing, if only our ballroom sessions were productive."

"Hm. Partly blaming yourself? Munakata.. aren't we half way already?"

"Yes we are."

Mikoto creased his brows, leaned in pretended to flick his fingers on Reishi’s forehead. His fingers looked like he was doing an okay sign with his thumb and middle finger. "You think too much. Plan too much. Pisses me off."

Reishi smiled. He took Mikoto’s hand away.

"You are really a handful. It must be good to be like you: to be indifferent towards most of things. Ah. but..." Reishi let go of Mikoto’s hand and adjusted his glasses. "I got this covered... by the power of..."

Mikoto pressed his palm against Reishi’s mouth to shut him up, "You really loved that Ninja movie I lent you. I get it. But stop."

Reishi didn’t mind this development in their relationship. However, after a number of sessions, he became consumed with the constant thoughts of Mikoto, that during practice, he often felt very odd. He wasn’t sure what to feel whenever he found himself too conscious of Mikoto’s breath on his skin, too conscious of Mikoto’s touch and the violence in the way he pulled him against him. Rather than piss him off, this often made him weak in the knees as though his bones melted and turned itself a gooey messy thing—a manifestation of the complete eradication of Reishi’s sense of wholeness, and he didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like the thought of breaking, of falling headfirst into something that was fleeting or of losing control for that matter.

Losing control meant losing everything. It meant the end of the world to him. That’s the reason why, while he was naturally attracted to the air of danger about Mikoto, like a moth to a flame, like how one is attracted to the things that could either break them or give them the universe, he didn’t want to be in deep. He didn’t want to give someone the liberty to destroy him.

Destruction was barbaric. And Mikoto was destruction. He was a crack in the surface of Reishi’s being, just lying in wait for an earthquake so that he could completely reduce him to rubble and dust. But this did not stop Reishi from allowing himself to indulge, just a little bit, because, he loved it. He loved dancing with Mikoto; loved that way their bodies had contacted, the way their skin had brushed and had fitted perfectly as they twined their arms, as they had held and cupped each other’s being. He had loved the connection that they had made.

While Reishi’s thoughts on the matter were complex, mainly due to how his mind was wired, Mikoto’s was simple: he loved his dance lessons. He loved everything about it, especially dancing with Reishi. For it was with Reishi and Reishi alone that he had come to love something and decided on it, and this was something that he thought was both beautiful and sad at the same time. Because, having something to yearn for, something that he had decided on made him feel alive. If only the play didn’t happen. If only Totsuka didn’t bring him to watch that damned Kabuki play, he would probably be free of such a troublesome feeling as love. But it happened. And because of that, now he lived and breathed in the thrill of meeting Reishi and spending time with him; in the warmth that he felt in Reishi’s touch, in the anticipation of trailing his hand on the outline of Reishi’s frame, fingers spread, unabashed. This often surprised Reishi. Because the aggression in his touch was always apparent—this had only worsened as time passed—and whenever he pulled Reishi close, violently, his mouth finding its place upon the plane of Reishi’s cheek—like it was made to be there— Reishi would feel him clench his teeth, as though he was trying to hold something back, always. Reishi would hear his warm breath turn shallow as they did this. Curious, the instructor would raise his eyes to Mikoto’s golden orbs. He would see himself reflected in the other’s clear pearlescent eyes. As he stared into the vortexes looking back at him, he felt himself shudder upon the realization that Mikoto looked at him as if he wanted him, and it often made him breathless.

Reishi thought that all of these were just a product of his tendency to overthink things, so he brushed it off. But he could not deny how Mikoto’s gaze lingered on him more than before. Sometimes, he would see him look at him when the other thought he was not looking. As he was too professional about everything, he did not mind it. He just passed it off as akin to transference. He decided to talk about it to Mikoto. This did not help, however, because somehow, every time he wanted to speak to him, he was always at a loss for words. And he didn’t understand why it became like that. So he just left things as they were.

Finally, when they were able to finish the steps for the whole song and polished them thoroughly. Reishi decided to try dancing the whole thing with Mikoto.

Dancing with Mikoto was unlike anything else Reishi had experienced. It made him unable to delineate between just dancing and making love; was it because of the desire and intimacy inherent in tango? Or was it because both of them were just so compatible that it made him think that way?

As they danced, Reishi felt Mikoto’s touch burn his skin, again and again; he felt the steam of the other’s breath like acid melting his skin. It made him want to just, let himself go and do what lovers ought to do in that kind of situation. Mikoto’s narrow lips that hovered just right above his own made him feel dauntless so that he turned slightly in order to brush a part of it against Mikoto’s trembling mouth. Mikoto had not anticipated such a move from him. Because for the redhead, he had long accepted that Reishi was elusive. He was someone that he would never be able to grasp. He was someone that he can only hold in his fantasies, for the reason that, Reishi had always made it clear that he was not interested in anything else other than the relationship between teacher and student. For someone who ached for a reciprocation of love, just the slight kindling of a dying flame was like the effect of gasoline: it was a catalyst to make the fire more intense, fiercer, and hotter. This was the effect of Reishi’s dauntlessness.

As a consequence, instead of brushing his mouth against the plane of Reishi’s cheek, as he often did in practice, Mikoto kissed him with everything he got. It was akin to the way one reacted to a sudden realization that fleeting things should be savored wholly and completely without any ounce of hesitation. On instinct, as if this very principle had been etched into every strip of his subconscious, he ran his tongue across Reishi’s bottom lip, bit its soft fleshy surface, and planted a soft, gentle kiss before sloshing their mouth violently so that the skin of his upper lip curled like a bulb of rose at the force he exerted and his bottom lip pressed hard against Reishi’s own.

All of his desires welled up and then burst. Like an erupting volcano, he spilled all of his emotions like magma and reduced to ash all of his hesitations and efforts of holding himself back from pinning Reishi down. He remembered the nights when he would dream of kissing him, biting him, licking him all over, thrusting into him deeply, and it felt like a dream. This was now: he was holding him like he was something that he could call his own. And it made him loosen the threads that bind him and reach out to him.

For the first time, Mikoto felt that his waking world was better than his dreams. For the first time, he was glad that he did something completely unlike himself. The successive uncharacteristic behaviors that he had displayed starting from the day he met Reishi: buying books about tango, reading, searching for Reishi’s elusive scent (wandering what the perfume was called) like a lost hound trying to find its way back home, and stopping himself from smoking four boxes a day whenever he was tormented with the thought of fucking Reishi (yes, these were his constant thoughts, and he had woken up at night because his dreams felt too real). It almost drove him mad, but madness was better than not feeling at all; it was better than the constant grayness he used to look at the world.

Maybe this was what it meant to find someone: the pall of grayness that had constantly loomed over one’s being slowly turned into a spectrum of colors at the touch of the beloved. What was used to be an empty husk of a human being turned into raving hunger and desperation in human form. Languid, indolent limbs, turned into wrapping, trembling, passionate parts grasping for the beloved with hunger and thirst. Just because of an opportunity, just because a dying flame was lighted anew. And Mikoto had become this very thing; rationality had slipped away, and the beast took over.

Reishi, clear-headed as he was, was the direct opposite of Mikoto. Yet, the latter’s actions made him feel oppressed. Mikoto’s breath that had a faint smell of cigarette, made it hard for him to struggle. For he remembered the tobacco-scented-nights they had shared, those nights when Mikoto had waited for him to finish all his classes just to ask him out to dinner,

["I thought you went home already Suoh. Our lesson had been finished for nearly four hours already. Do you have any other business with me?"

"Let's eat dinner."

“Oya. What is this? This is so unlike you Suoh.”]

That was all here was to it, dinner, but the way Mikoto had grabbed him as if he was afraid Reishi was going to decline, made Reishi feel things. Mikoto had not waited for him to reply. Reishi didn't need to reply, however, because he knew, that he would go with him anywhere, despite his fear of losing control, of destruction, and uncertainty.

The way Mikoto had leaned in to kiss him reminded him of those times when they shared almost-kisses when Mikoto had gotten so drunk that he no longer cared whether he was already too close for comfort. Whispering in Reishi's ear, sometimes he would brush his nose on the side of the other's face; flare his nose, and drawl, "lilac." Turning his head to him, Reishi would find his eyes settle on Mikoto's lips. Reishi had always found the curl of the other’s mouth distracting. Because it often made him wonder how it would feel if it roved across his skin. It often forced him to imagine how it would taste. Would it be as warm as his breath? Would it be as gentle as the way the gust of wind from Mikoto’s mouth sweep across his lips when they dance? Not realizing the fact that, once, underneath the warm blinding light of the studio, Mikoto had kissed him.

Mikoto licked the insides of his mouth and run his tongue across the surface of Reishi’s tongue. The fleeting taste of tobacco and mint reminded Reishi of how bourbon tasted when he was with him. Remembering these made him queasy and awkward, because, in these particular times that they had shared together, he had felt like he wanted to strip off every layer of his control and just unwind, let everything go. He had forgotten this when he thought too much about how Mikoto became something that he could no longer ignore. But now that he was forced to remember, it was not only this that he got reacquainted with, it also reminded him of the knotting sensation in his stomach that he felt over the months that he had been with the redhead.

As Reishi thought of all of this, the sound of the accordion, the beat of tango, and the brush and the tapping of feet came in a crescendo. It dragged him back to the present. It hurled him to his waking world filled with rising immaculate tango music now tainted with wet noises and sound of kneaded flesh under tight, maiming grip.

Mikoto clung to his mouth desperately; he felt uncomfortable with how he held him: he held his hand violently and continued sloshing their lips against each other in a way that screamed hunger. Mikoto moaned in Reishi mouth as he trailed his hands down the outline of the other’s frame. When he reached the curve of Reishi’s hips, he grabbed them and then withdrew his mouth from the latter’s own. Reishi heard him heave. He heard him grunt. Mikoto brushed his pointed toes around and then placed it in front of the tip of his right foot. He did this until Reishi felt the spine of the cold bar against his back. Mikoto wheeled him around to face the mirror. After that, Reishi just stood there, his face flushed, his chest taking in air greedily. Mikoto stared back at him with eyes full of desire.

“Munakata…” Mikoto rasped as he leaned down. He planted a wet kiss on Reishi’s shoulder, curled his tongue on its surface and raked his wild teeth on the soft ivory flesh. Then, he raised his passionate eyes at both of their reflections on the mirror, and added breathlessly, “Stop me if you hate this.”

Stop. It was a word that signified limitation, control. Unlike Mikoto, Reishi had lived his life exercising control in everything and anything about himself. This was no different from how he perceived dancing. In dancing, you exercise a certain amount of control. It is inherent in the discipline that it required. Apart from this, it was also a means of communicating something to the audience: a story, a feeling, or an emotion. Reishi never thought of it like that. It had always been about control and his obsession with it. But now, for the first time, he thought, that indeed, a dance was more than just control. It was also a way of communicating the most difficult things to say. So instead of pushing Mikoto away, Reishi turned around and wrapped his arms around Mikoto’s neck. And he kissed him back with the same fervor.

#fics #mikorei #k project #mikoto suoh #munakata reishi

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mikoreiweek2015 · 9 years

Text

Some Things Never Change

Pairing: MikoRei Fandom: K project Prompt: Fate & Rebirth

MikoRei Week 2015 - Day 7 - KNOCK - Fate & Rebirth

A collaborative fanfic written by me and my good friend, Alan. Due to being in Alabama over the weekend, I found myself late to my own deadline! >.< Anyways, hope you all enjoy. <3

Reisi: Myself - @squireofgotham

Mikoto: Alan @reaperinthorns

Some Things Never Change

Red. The color held so much pain for Reisi Munakata. So much more than the pain that had just been inflicted on him. Red. The warm color dripped from the hand no longer clutched to his body. His vision faded in and out. This was it, and he knew it. Reisi Munakata didn't mind death. It was a risk of being a King. He welcomed it. SCEPTER 4 would be fine without him. They were all intelligent, strong people. He looked at his hand again. His ability to move it long gone. That warm, bright red. With his last strength, he stretched a smile. Isn't it fitting, Suoh? The last thing I see ...makes me think of you. --------------------------------------- 2042 “He’s in there, Dr. Munakata,” a nurse said, smiling. “I’ll warn you though, he’s quite the character.” “Don’t worry,” Dr. Reisi Munakata said, smiling back. “I’m sure he’s nothing I can’t handle.” He walked up to the room, taking the clipboard by the door. “Mikoto Suoh,” he said aloud. “Minor burns.” “Hello Mikoto,” Reisi said as he walked through the door. “How are we doing today?”

Mikoto looked at the doctor with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Doc? I mean since you’re the professional.” He told him as he continued to stare at Dr. Munakata. He wasn’t sure how the doctor was going to respond but he really didn’t care at this point. “So I’m sure that nurse told you about me.”

Reisi laughed. “She did. She warned me you were quite the handful,” he teased. He looked over Mikoto. The man was in his mid-twenties, probably around the same age as Reisi himself. He had deep red hair and amber eyes. He wore no shirt and more-than-form-fitting black pants. It wasn't hard to see the burns on his abdomen. They showed pink against his tanned skin. Reisi stepped up to his bedside to take a closer look. “Based on your wardrobe, I'm going to guess these weren’t from cooking,” Reisi said. “Do you mind telling me how you got them?”

Mikoto chuckled. “Yeah, I was cooking eggs.” He said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. “I’m sure they already asked me these questions when I walked in. But if you must know I’m a street performer. Guess I got a little carried away with my job.” He said as he tried to sit up the best he could without hurting himself.

“I see,” Reisi said. “Well Mikoto, judging by the blisters here and the way you just winced when you sat up, these are second-degree burns. That’s good news though, because you’ll heal just fine. There might be a faint scar, but if that happens and you want it removed, we can set up an appointment for that later,” he smiled. The doctor doubted Mikoto would opt for anything above what was absolutely necessary, but it was part of his job to offer.

Mikoto scowled at the doctor. “Yeah I could’ve told ya that myself, Doc. It’s good to know that I'll heal. Can’t disappoint my adoring fans. I don’t mind if it’s a faint scar as long as it’s not something hideous.” He smiled a bit as he then tried to settle himself back against the pillows without having to wince but that wasn’t the case.

“It shouldn't be hideous, so long as you take care of yourself,” Reisi looked down at the raised flesh, “Looks like you haven’t cleaned this yet. I’m surprised the nurse didn’t help you already,” he added, murmuring. “I’m going to clean it for you now, okay? This might hurt a little, though. Some of the skin might come off."

“That should be no problem. I can take care of myself.” He said as he winced. “I guess she didn’t want to. I mean she did tell you that I was a handful." He added sighing. “Alright, Doc. I trust ya, though I suppose I have to.”

“You make it sound like you’re at my mercy,” Reisi chuckled. He got up and washed his hands, returning to Mikoto with wipes and a tube of ointment. “I promise I don't bite,” he said as he carefully cleaned Mikoto’s wound.

“Well aren’t I, Doc? I mean I am the one laying in the hospital bed.” He watched the doctor as he washed his hands and went to retrieve the wipes and ointment. “Oh really? I can't promise I won't.” He laughed a bit, wincing as he felt the doctor clean his wound.

Reisi flushed slightly at the patient’s last comment. He had to admit, this “Mikoto” was quite the charmer. “I think the nurse was right about you,” he said, rolling his eyes. He threw away the wipe and opened up the tube of ointment. “I wouldn't bite if I were you, though,” he brushed the cold ointment across Mikoto’s skin. “We’re required to restrain unruly patients.” Reisi smirked.

The nurse was right about me? Mikoto couldn’t deny that his attitude always got the better of him and he liked to flirt with others. But this doctor was different and he wasn’t sure why. He smirked. “Aw but Doc…” He clenched his teeth together as he breathed. “I’m not unruly...and even if I was, are you sure you could handle me?” He asked.

Reisi was about to retort when his eyes met Mikoto’s and he froze.

You could do it, Munakata.

The Blue King can keep an eye on me personally.

24 hours a day, inside this cell.

If I become violent, you can restrain me by force.

Reisi blinked. Shaking his head. What was that? He thought. He wasn’t used to his mind trailing into such fantasies at work. This Suoh character is really getting to me.

Reisi got up and retrieved a large bandage. He covered the dressed wound and taped the sides down. “Well Mikoto, seeing as I’m done, I don’t need to handle you at all,” his tone was teasing. He had to be professional now, though. “If you want this to heal properly,” he continued. “You’ll need to clean it like this every time you change bandages. I have some samples of the antibiotic ointment I can give you, but you’ll be needing more, so I’ll write you a prescription.”

Mikoto frowned a little. “Too bad that you’re done, Doc.” He said with a bit of laughter and then winced again. "Shit…” He said as he went to look at his wound that was patched up and then looked at the doctor when he was told how to clean the bandages. “Sure, whatever you say. Kinda wish I had someone who could help me clean them every day….” He smirked hoping that the doctor took the hint.

Reisi’s cheeks flushed again. He took out a pen and wrote down Mikoto’s prescription. “I’m afraid I do have other patients to tend to, Mikoto,” he chuckled as he took out another, blank piece of paper and wrote on it too. “However, I might enjoy seeing your show one of these days, once you've recovered.” He smiled as he handed Mikoto the two slips of paper: the prescription and his phone number.

Mikoto gave a fake pout. “Aw that’s too bad…” He said as he laughed a bit. Watching the doctor write on a blank piece of paper after being handed the prescription, he blinked. “Really?” He asked, wondering if Dr. Munakata was serious. He then looked at the piece of paper with the doctor’s number on it. “Well now I feel special, or do you give your number to all your patients?” Mikoto smirked.

“No,” Reisi said, “you’re the first.” There was something about Mikoto Suoh. Reisi couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt drawn to him. “I’m not going to regret giving you that, am I?” He smirked.

“No, you won’t regret giving me your number. Thanks for everything, Doc. I won’t hesitate to give you a call.” He said as he winced getting up from the bed. He pocketed the prescription and then took out his cell phone and smiled as he looked at Dr. Munakata. He put the doctor's number in his phone, labeling it as “Reisi personal number.”

Reisi smiled as he watched Mikoto walk away. Cocky and confident as ever. I guess some things never change.

Wait...

I just met him.

#mikorei #mikoreiweek #mikoreiweek 2015 #k project #day 7 #Prompt A: Fate #Prompt B: Rebirth #fanfic #admin's art

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