>> Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Okay, this is a first for me. I've never had the urge to write fan fiction because, truthfully, coming up with characters and scenarios has never been a problem. When I've been prompted by something to write before, it was usually because a good idea was so badly mangled I had to rework it into something good. Admittedly, it was usually unrecognizable long before I was through with it (and that was largely epic poetry that will never see the light of day).
But Nakamura Yoshiki, author/artist for Tokyo Crazy Paradise and Skip Beat! has built such terrific sequences and characters that I couldn't stop myself. Whereas the bit I wrote for Tokyo Crazy Paradise is a bit of consummation after the end of the series (which is complete); it's just speculation using someone else's story. Note that I have also written fanfiction for Skip Beat that begins here.
If you haven't read the manga, you probably will be confused. If you want to read it but haven't yet (and I definitely recommend it), I'd avoid reading this because spoilers are built all through it. In fact, this is unlikely to be of any interest to anyone other than a fan of Tokyo Crazy Paradise if even that because this is how I see the characters.
Disclaimer: these characters and scenarios are based on the work of Nakamura Yoshiki and I'm just speculating on what might happen later in the story. Nothing more, nothing less. It is not an original work and I will never try to market or profit by it in any way. This fanfiction is "older Teen."
Ryuuji leaned over and whispered something to Bun-san. Tsukasa wasn't close enough to hear more than "android invasion" and "without disturbing us."
"Of course, Sandaime."
When Bun-san left, Ryuuji went with him and closed the door behind him. And locked it.
When she started and turned sideways on the couch, he met her eyes directly. The impact was staggering. She could feel blood steal into her cheeks, her heart hammering in her chest. "What are you doing? It's only 2:30. Don't you have some sort of work scheduled?"
He shrugged, loosening his tie. "I might have once, but I've just told Bun-san to cancel whatever I had on my schedule through tomorrow. No one's to disturb us for any reason up to and including android invasion."
He tossed his tie on the coffee table, still sauntering toward her. All at once, she became painfully aware that this suite wasn't just his center of operations, complete with computers, tables and couches. It was also his bedroom.
She knew that look in his eyes, had seen it nearly since the beginning, even if she hadn't originally understood its significance. That look had become more frequent of late, more obvious, less patient. No harrowing experience from the past year scared her as much as that look in his eyes. Or thrilled her as much.
He noticed her reaction, of course. Those sharp compelling eyes missed nothing. As she shrank back against the couch cushions, he sat down sideways beside her, refusing to let her look away. "I don't understand why you look scared, Tsukasa. I'm not some bakemono like the ones you've fought without flinching. You've promised to stay by me forever. Don't you want to be here? Don't you want to be with me?"
"Yes!" she said, more forcefully that she intended in her surprise. "Always."
The smile on his lips was her favorite, the crooked one she suspected no one saw but her. "And not just as a bodyguard or a friend," he pursued.
She couldn't pull her eyes away. She knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl, which she was in a roundabout sort of way. Still, embarrassing. "N-no," she stammered in a dry throat. "I mean yes. I mean..."
His lips quirked so she knew he knew what she meant. He was relentless as always. "And you've managed to convert or subvert anyone who had a problem with that, including my former fiancée."
"I didn't—," she protested automatically, but he silenced her with a gentle finger against her lips that began to stroke.
"I know she's not my former fiancée because of you. But she supports your position now and that is because of you. As far as the world's concerned, we're mated, married in all but name. Even your brother's accepted it though he won't acknowledge it officially. I'll make it by name, too, if you want." His fingers feathered across her lips, leaving them tingling as his face softened. "The instant you tell me you want it."
"I don't care about the name."
He smiled as he bent his head toward her, but she retreated automatically, cursing herself as she did so. His fingers slid away as his eyes hardened. "That's what I don't get. We've gone toe-to-toe and fought side by side, fought others to the death and each other nearly the same. I've seen you naked. You've seen me sleep, even seen me cry. And no one's seen me cry. I've touched you before, kissed you before..."
"And groped me every opportunity," she added with a touch of asperity.
"And will again, you can bet on it. There's something about exploring a body few others have ever touched. Hmm. Don't distract me. It was easier to get up close and personal with you when there were half a dozen obstacles standing in our way. Now that there are none, you're scrambling for distance. When I come close, you lash out or back off."
"I've lashed out since the beginning," she protested, feeling her face heat further. "It's a conditioned reflex, and I don't lash out like I used to." Damn, she sounded like a sulky kid. "I'm not trying to hurt you."
His fingers found their way to the tips of her hair and played with them. "I'm a fairly resilient or I would have given up on you in the beginning. But your scrambling back doesn't hurt less than a kick to the face. It's like you're afraid of me and I don't get that. Don't you trust me?"
She snorted. "On this subject, are you really trustworthy?"
His crooked smile returned briefly at that, but his eyes were still intent. "Do you love me?" His eyes closed before he leaned in next to her ear and breathed, "Because I love you unreasonably." He inhaled and then released it in a warm shaky breath that stirred the tendrils of hair at her ear. "I've wanted you for so long. I ache to touch you, really touch you," he whispered and her own eyes closed at the answering need clamoring inside her. "Do you love me?"
"Yes," she said, then choked over how to say it better. He was so smooth, so assured. She knew nothing about love, hadn't recognized it for the longest time. The first time he'd kissed her, she'd already known she loved him, but she'd been unaware how her heart and body would open with that single touch. When he'd kissed her, she'd been drowned in him, swamped by emotion and sensation she had no way of handling. Overloaded.
She could feel his lips smile against her cheek as he brushed them against her flaming skin, seeking her mouth. She could have wept with frustration when her hands pushed him away without her conscious command. His curses were soft but original, but he couldn't curse her more bitterly than she cursed herself.
For a moment, she thought he'd retreat, but he waited instead, her chin caught in his hand until she opened her eyes again. "Why?" he asked, when she did. "Explain it to me. You love me. You want me. I can feel it. Why don't you want me to touch you?"
"That's not it!" she choked out, fighting tears. "It's not that I don't want you to touch me. I do want you to touch me so much it scares me. I don't know how to handle it. It's like drowning and I can't come up for air. It's too much. I keep thinking I'll get used to it." She sighed out gustily. "I'm probably not explaining this right."
Her eyes downcast, she stole a glance at him and was stunned to see him smiling at her. Not angry as she'd expected, but grinning broadly. Smug, even.
Before her temper, never far from the surface, could bubble out, he defused it with the gentle brush against her cheekbone with the back of his fingers. "Silly brat," he said in a warm tone he reserved for her. "Is keeping me at a distance helping you get used to it? Or making it worse? You don't learn to swim standing poolside and wringing your hands. You gotta jump in."
Surprise made her look up at that and he used that opportunity to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. His lips were not demanding, but her head fell back naturally to give him more, spellbound by the single contact. Her hands didn't push him away but fisted in the folds of his shirt. When he pulled away, she was dizzy and breathless, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
The fingers that had once been at her chin fluttered over the side of her throat as he slid his face next to hers again, his lips brushing her ear. His ragged breathing not only inflamed, but gratified, even if there was laughter in his voice. "You don't have to hold your breath."
The laughter died and his voice dropped to a whisper, almost lost in his heavy breaths. "Let me touch you, Tsukasa. I need you." He lifted his chin to kiss her temple, then buried his lips in her hair. "I won't hurt you."
She couldn't help her snort of laughter. "Like that's worries me."
He nuzzled his way along her hairline on a languorous path back toward her lips, sending electric shocks along her skin. His touch was lazy and patient, but she could feel the muscles trembling in his chest, his heart galloping beneath her clenched fingers. His scent, spicy with the smoky edge due to too many cigarettes, filled her senses with his warm presence, erotic because it was unmistakably his. And he was hers.
She stopped thinking and let herself drown. Her body reacted on its own, turning her head and angling her jaw so that she found his mouth. One of her hands released its hold on his shirt and slid into his silky hair to provide the pressure her mouth demanded. Her body had always known what to do instinctively. How had she forgotten that?
He froze for an instant, his fingers spasming against her throat, his lips unresponsive for the briefest moment before he sank into her. His mouth matched her urgency and forced hers open to plunge deeper.
Feeling stormed through her, immersed her in a thousand unfamiliar sensations, each of them overwhelming. She didn't fight it. How often had she let passion rule her? Trying to fight her emotions had always been like holding back the tide with a broom. Instead, she dove.
She was tucked up now between his knees. The hand not tangled in his hair fought his shirt buttons one-handed, breaking them off by force when her fingers weren't skilled enough. Only as she fought the last button did she realize her own shirt was only attached at the wrists, her protector long gone. Both of his hands roamed over her torso beneath her tank top. She wrenched her mouth free to complain, "How do you do that?"
He responded by latching his devastating mouth on her throat and setting it afire, but she could feel the rumble of his chuckle beneath her fingers. His hands cupped either breast and rubbed thumbs over her nipples. He purred against her throat when she gasped. "Shake your arms to lose the shirt. Crazy girl, how long are you going to wear men's clothing?"
"At this rate, I won't be wearing any clothing." One of his hands slid behind her back at her hip to yank her up and against him. His body through his open shirt was hot and hard, his scent like a drug to her senses. Shirtless, she buried her hands in his hair as his mouth blazed a trail down her neck to her shoulder.
He removed her tank top with a simple movement of his hand up her back and into her hair. "I hope you're not wearing more idiotic boxers." His other hand had already released her belt and her pants, then slid below to grip her thighs. Without warning, she was lifted up easily in his arms as her loosened pants slid off and away. He smirked as he rose and carried her across the room toward the back room and his huge bed. "Yes, much better," he said as he eyed the ridiculous thong underwear she wore.
"Bastard. You keep having someone rifle through my underwear drawer and steal my underwear, leaving stuff like this," she said against his throat.
"Nonsense," he said, laying her gently on his wide bed and making no secret of his leisurely examination of her all-but-naked body. "I go through that drawer myself. It's strictly off limits for any of any kumin that want to retain their fingers."
She tried not to shiver as his fingers danced, butterfly soft, over her heating flesh. "You don't kill them for that?"
"Not for a first offense," he said, letting his lips wander over her face. "As long as its clothing and not your actual body. I know how tempting you are."
He was driving her crazy. Why was he keeping a distance? Moving so slowly, so patiently...what was he playing at? Well, she didn't feel like waiting. She levered to an elbow and wrapped her arm around his neck so she could blow in his ear. After all, she knew his weaknesses, too. "Stop talking and touch me like you mean it."
To her amazement, he shuddered. She could feel his hand fist at her hip, his jaw clench against her cheek. Oh, ho!
"Patience," he rasped out, though it took a moment to get where he could speak. "I...it's a little harder holding myself back than I thought it would be."
"What?" she yelped, perhaps louder than called for given her lips were only a breath from his ear. When he flinched, she rolled him to his back, straddling him. He'd managed to ditch his shirt but he was still wearing trousers. She, of course, was wearing only token clothing. When had he removed her shoes?
With menace she knew was effective, she bent to his face. "What kind of crap is that? Holding back? Since when have I ever asked you to hold back for me? What makes you think you're allowed?"
"I'm trying to be careful. I don't want to hurt you," he explained, not meeting her eyes. Pink tinged his ears and cheeks and endeared him to her—not that she'd ever admit it.
"I told you I wasn't worried about that."
"For a woman, the first time—" She cut him off with a kiss that was hard and demanding. She remembered him kissing her like that before: desperate, angry, needy. That's how she wanted him now so they'd be meeting on even ground.
She felt him struggle with himself as if their mouths were a battlefield, felt his incredible control tremble, pushed to its limits. She gloried in it. She knew in her heart, that, though he was no novice with sex—she knew that—, he'd never lost control with anyone else. Let that be hers and hers only.
With an oath, he managed to roll her back to her back, his own body crushing hers, hard as iron. She could see his pulse beating madly in his throat, hear his shattered breathing. "You don't know what you're doing! Will you let me do this my way?"
"Only if 'your way' is the real you, not the face you show your kumin."
He closed his eyes, chest heaving. "I don't know what would happen, how I might hurt you if I let go. Shit! You're driving me crazy."
Her fingers worked the clasp of his belt. "Driving you crazy is, like, my favorite thing to do," she breathed against the pulse in his throat. "Touch me like you mean it, or don't bother."
He was still as stone for a moment, eyes closed, fighting himself now. She took the opportunity to slide his slacks down his narrow hips, her fingers stroking caressingly along the naked skin in its wake as she bared her teeth on his windpipe.
The growl in his throat made her pull back. His eyes blazed down on her with such visceral animal need she thought she'd burst into answering flame. "You asked for it," he spit between gritted teeth before he swooped down on her and began battering her with teeth, lips, tongue, hands, body and his desperate need.
That's more like it, she thought before her mind ceased all ability to function. Nor was there more conversation on either part other than a number of moans, groans, and some guttural screams until, some considerable time later, they both lay sweaty and gasping, bruised and momentarily sated.
Continued here: Afterglow