[identity profile] red-slash-army.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] last_pleasure
[livejournal.com profile] mimei says: CONSIDER THIS A CALL FOR LAST MINUTE ENTRIES. DO WE HAVE ANY TAKERS?
I challenge anyone who has an hour spare to pick up a prompt and write somewhere in the 700w range to it. I might be lenient about accepting these a little after the deadline.

[apologies to Frida for spamming at the top of your entry '__' and MASSIVE thanks to [livejournal.com profile] yokozuki for saving the day by posting the small influx of entries i failed at dealing with.]
_____________


entry #11, What does the 'suki' in 'sukiyaki' stand for? by Frida Kahlo


synopsis: BuchixRyuutarou. Akira plays the pimp and Ryuu is seme once again.
ratings/warnings: PG-13
entered in: category 1 (open)
dartboard: yes
concrit: 2

additional notes: The author would like to apologise for the bad pun/mangling of romanji in the title.

What does the 'suki' in 'sukiyaki' stand for?




"Practice cancelled. Ryuutarou is sick."

That was Tuesday. It's Friday now and there hasn't been any signs of life from the man, and even though Buchi keeps on telling himself it's nothing he finds himself searching up the vocalist's number from his cellphone.

After twelve beeep sounds from the other end he ends the call and searches up another number.

Tadashi doesn't answer either, but there's an answering machine with a briefly left message explaining that the person you were trying to reach is currently visiting his parents in Chiba and will probably not be reached until next Monday.

Okay. Akira next.

This time Buchi actually gets an answer. The guitarist picks up the phone and greets with a cheery 'Yoosh'. The smile can almost be heard in his voice.

"Akira? Have you heard anything from Ryuutarou?"
"Mmmmmnope."
"Ah... You think he's okay?"
"I don't know. I guess."
"Well, then.. I just thought if somebody should go and check on him? He isn't answering the phone."
"Yeah. Maybe somebody should."
".. Would you?"
There's a short silence from Akira's end of the line and Buchi can't really recognise if the distant voice he hears is a cough or a chuckle.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Buchi.. But I myself have fallen ill just recently.." The voice carries on after a moment. Buchi gapes at his cellphone.
"You're kidding me."
"Well, yeah, actually I am," comes the reply immediately, "I just want to push you into finally doing something with him."
Buchi's jaw falls open, eyes widen and he's immensely happy video phone calls aren't an everyday thing yet.
"A-Aki--! T-That's-"
"Perfectly reasonable considering you've been at him for, what, six months? At least?"
"W-Well, forcing me to go up and confess- I mean, I don't really-" The words tangle in Buchi's mouth, tie his tongue into a big knot. He can hear Akira's shameless snickering in his ear.
"Riiiight. Take him some sukiyaki, will you? He really likes that stuff. Ja ne~" Click.

The line goes quiet, except for the steady bleep sound every second that tells Buchi that Akira is not coming back to save him.

* * *


I am so fucked. And not in the good way.
It annoys Buchi to no end that the day outside is, though cold, very beautiful and sunny and therefore gives him absolutely no sympathy whatsoever. The take-away sukiyaki in its bag is still warm and steaming as he makes his way over to Ryuutarou's apartment complex.

Third floor. Fourth door on the left with a simple and plain doorplate. Arimura. Buchi takes a deep breath and presses the doorbell with his left hand. Waits. There's no answer which only works to make him even more nervous than he already is. Another press, another distant buzzing on the other side of the door. Still no answer.

Buchi doesn't want to call out because he's pretty sure it won't have any effect, and the possibility it will make him look stupid is rather high. Left hand searches the door handle and twists after a moment's hesitation.

It creaks open, well not really because actually there's no sound at all. It just opens smoothly to a darkened genkan, the flat behind it so dark Buchi can't see what's in there. With a glance to left and right he quickly steps in, guilt burning in the pit of his stomach. This could be counted as a violation of privacy. Oh to hell with it, this is a violation of privacy. He toes off his shoes before walking further, subconsciously tip-toeing in order to not make too much sound.

"Ryuutarou?" He calls out. His hand trails against the wall, searching for a light switch. The wall ends suddenly, apparently a doorway, unbalancing him for a second and leaving his hand flailing at empty air. That is, until it hits something relatively soft and firm and grabs it for support.

"Yes?" The all-too-easily recognisable voice whispers in his ear. The little hairs in Buchi's neck stand up.
"Ryuutarou?" He asks again, quieter this time. "I.. brought you some sukiyaki. I mean, I wanted to see you're all right since you don't answer your phone and it's been a while already and--" Shut up.

A chuckle from the man next to him and a hand extends to accept the bag of take-away, fingers briefly brushing against Buchi's. "Thank you," Ryuutarou whispers again. "How did you know I like sukiyaki?"
"Akira told me," Buchi shrugs, "When I called him."
"Oh? Why didn't he come with you?" And Buchi's cursing the way Ryuutarou keeps whispering things because it's impossible to determine the tone of his voice from it, and because every word sends a soft puff of breath against his neck and face.
"He said it'd be better if I came to see you." Should have said he's sick. Should have said that. Yet again Buchi's fallen to scolding himself mentally when Ryuutarou speaks again.
"Really? And why is that?"
"That? Anoo.. That is because.." Buchi felt something heavy falling to his stomach, a teeny-tiny panic starting to settle in. He can hear Ryuutarou shifting on his feet, setting down the plastic bag on the floor.
"You act as if you don't know." He states, making Buchi feel even more uncomfortable. And you act as if you do know. He clears his throat quietly, the eery silence of the place making his skin crawl. "Well, that's probably--"

His words are cut off when a pair of hands slips smoothly beneath his shirt, fingers splayed over his belly.
"Because of this?" Ryuutarou whispers into his ear. The something heavy in Buchi's stomach feels like it has suddenly sprouted tentacles. His breath hitches and he jerks slightly under Ryuutarou's touch.
"R-Ryuutarou, what a-are you--?"
"You know what I'm doing, Buchi," comes the answer. "I'm touching you just the way you'd want me to. And if you don't have anything against it, I'm planning on getting rid of your clothes, say, in the next five minutes?" Slightly chapped lips press against the skin of Buchi's neck, placing butterfly-light kisses onto the skin. Buchi squirms weakly, face becoming flushed and breath hitching again as he tries to speak.
"B-But you don't like me and I don't want to be just a one-time thing--" I told you to shut up. A soft chuckle against his neck and Buchi shivers.
"Buchi. Do you really, really think that if I'm just feeling horny I'd pick up my band mate, friend and in general, someone I have to see again after the night spent together?" There's a hint of humour in the whisper and Buchi has a feeling Ryuutarou is watching him very intently.
"I don't know. I mean- Oh." He falls silent after the realisation hits him. Lips return to his neck and this time Buchi allows himself to relax and just enjoy the feeling.
"My point exactly," Ryuutarou murmurs. With the hands still rubbing against his stomach, they make their way towards the bedroom in the back of Ryuutarou's flat. The apartment is so dark it's not possible to see the closing of the door, but the soft click and the even softer thud of two bodies hitting the bed are tell-tale enough.
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