Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7195565.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ensemble_Stars!_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Itsuki_Shu/Kagehira_Mika
  Character:
      Kagehira_Mika, Itsuki_Shu, Narukami_Arashi
  Additional Tags:
      family_member_OC, Anxiety, Mental_Health_Issues, Established_Relationship
  Series:
      Part 5 of Oddballs_in_Love
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-14 Words: 13918
****** Fruit of Yggdrasil ******
by daphnerunning, Galiko
Summary
     The worst thing Kagehira Mika could imagine is the audio being cut at
     Valkyrie's next Live. Unfortunately, the reality is far worse--the
     Live is a success, and his mother attends.
Notes
     Follows our other MikaShu fics but all you need to know is that
     they're an established couple. Takes place towards the end of Shu's
     third year.
Exhilarated, exhausted, disappointed, thrilled—so many of those emotions all at
once make Kagehira Mika’s head spin, and it’s no surprise that he ends up on
the floor backstage, a bag of ice pressed against his forehead.
 
Everything feels sweltering when he’s in layers of heavy lace and velvet, and
sweat trickles in steady streams down his neck underneath the lace netting of
clipped-in extensions. Every single part of him feels heavy, too, and his feet
ache and throb, feeling pathetically unused to high heels even after practicing
in them for weeks to prepare for this particular Live against UNDEAD.
 
And it didn’t even matter, more or less.Exhilarating, that they got so
far—exhausted, because four rounds in, he’d had to give in, collapsing on
stage—disappointed, because he’d let Shu down—thrilled, because Shu had been so
perfect, so magnificent, to the point that Mika watched Rei nearly concede,
just moments from it when Shu had collapsed on stage, his body, not his
resolve, wavering.
 
 This is my fault. If I had just lasted one more round, just one more…
 
Shu’s head lolls in his lap where Mika sits, sticky with sweat and sagging in
exhaustion, and he wearily stares up at the rafters, heaving a sigh as he
adjusts the ice pack on his own head, and then Shu’s. He’ll never want me to
drop out and stay with him now.
 
“Why the long face, sweetheart?”
 
Arashi drops down to a crouch, face full of gentle concern and no small amount
of pride. “You guys were seriously fantastic--I gotta be honest, no one thought
either of you had that much juice left in you, Mika-chan. Why aren’t you
happy?”
 
It’s not fair that Arashi is here now, because just that sliver of concern and
worry over him makes Mika’s lower lip tremble, and immediately, the waterworks
start. “‘Cuz I messed up,” he tearfully says, sniffling and immediately lifting
his sleeve to shove it against his eyes, but it’s too late—his mascara is
running, dripping streaks of black down his cheeks. “I-if I had jus’ lasted one
more round, I could’ve…we could’ve won, I bet, b-but I couldn’t! Oshi-san
already works so hard, he s-should be able t’count on me but no matter h-how
much I practice I’m not good enough…”
 
“Ohhh, boy.” Arashi rocks down, sitting on the floor with a grimace on his face
at the coldness of the floor. Sure does look like Itsuki is passed out cold--is
it safe to leave him like that? Well, Mika probably knows best. “Mika-chan,
everyone thinks you did a great job. And in those heels? Girl, everyone gets
out in these, that’s the point.”
 
“I don’t wanna be like everyone else!” Mika forgets himself, and nearly blows
his nose into the sleeve of his dress before he catches himself with a ragged,
huffy sob. “If…if I’m like everyone else, there’s no way Oshi-san will ever
wanna go pro with me, he’ll tell me t’just forget it.” He sniffs hard, lifting
his head to stare red-eyed and make-up streaked at Arashi. “T-this is all I’m
good at, y’know, and I’m not even that good, so if I can’t do this…”
 
“Didn’t you guys go up against twice as many people and make it to basically a
draw?” Arashi presses, one eyebrow raised. “Besides, everyone focused on you at
the beginning. No one thinks you’re not any good--you looked incredible out
there. And that dance you did, with the chair? You guys looked so sexy! How
long have you been wearing dresses and heels, hmm?”
 
“F…for the past month, I guess…” His feet throb rather condescendingly, and
Mika chews on his lower lip in an attempt to stop crying, even as he surrenders
his ice pack to plop a second one on top of Shu, his fingers shaking as he
frets. “I didn’t mean to let him get to this point,” he miserably says. “Naru-
chan, I jus’ wanted to be able to pick up the slack for him, but he’s like this
now and it’s my fault.”
 
“C’mere. Come on, you need to walk around for a while.” Arashi jerks his head
to the side, tugging at Mika’s shoulder. “Hey, there’s a crazy gyaru lady
haggling with the Goods girls about Kaoru-kun’s bromides, want to look?”
 
Mika sniffles again, slowly, painstakingly clambering to his feet. His knees
wobble, and he clings to Arashi’s arm, letting his head thunk against the other
boy’s shoulder. He’d been so proud to be able to wear something this pretty of
Shu’s publicly, but now he’s terrified of it, stressed that he’s going to trip
over the long, trailing lines of black lace, or rip or shred something that Shu
will have to remake all over again…Mika shudders, scrubbing at his  eyes with
the back of his hand, and looks like a raccoon all the more for it. “I guess,”
he mumbles, nervously glancing back to Shu. He’s still out cold, probably will
be for awhile, and maybe that’s for the best. “Ugh, my feet hurt so much, I
wanna die…”
 
Arashi’s heart twinges for Mika’s sake, which is sort of a new feeling. Oh, he
feels protective of many of his kohai, sure, but Mika isn’t one of them, just a
sad kid who really needs a big sister to help him get his head on straight. He
wraps an arm around Mika’s waist, steering him out into the lights of the lobby
instead of the shadowy gloom of backstage. “See, isn’t this better? You’ve got
some fans out here who want autographs, I’m sure.”
 
“Hehhhh? How come y’gave that girl a special one? Where’s mine, hahh? Ya
discriminatin’ or somethin’, bitch?”
 
“Honored guest, I’m very sorry, the previous guest was a member of our
Supporter’s Club and has access to special bromides with--”
 
“Ya think I’m too poor t’be part of th’club, hahh? Gimme the special one! Is
his shirt off?”
 
“A-ah, Honored Guest, perhaps you’d prefer to--”
 
“Speak plain Japanese, come ooooonn.” Long painted nails drum on the Goods
counter as the girl behind it sweats, trying to avoid making eye contact with
the demanding customer.
 
Arashi nudges Mika. “Weird, right?”
 
Suddenly, it feels like his stomach is bottoming out. Mika’s mouth goes dry,
and the sudden, sharp spike in panic makes his nails—specially manicured and
painted by Shu himself, now with a couple of them chipped in annoying
places—bite into Arashi’s arm as he clings there. “I don’t wanna be here,” he
whispers, his heels suddenly sounding like they’re clicking too loudly on the
floor, and trying to dive behind Arashi is his only option. “Please, Naru-chan,
please.”
 
Maybe she won’t recognize me isn’t the line of thought someone should have
about their own mother, but god, what else would she be here for?
 
“Mika-chaaaan!”
 
No no no no no, Mika frantically thinks, his breath hiccuping in his chest
when, true to Arashi’s word, an incredibly eager group of girls darts over,
clutching bromides and magazines to their chests, all from before, when
Valkyrie wasn’t this.One of them in particular is very ready, and darts closer.
“Mika-chan, you were so cool! A-and Arashi-san, too, you’re here, oh my god,
does that mean—are you joining Valkyrie?!”
 
One of her friends rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Kiyoko, there’s no way!”
 
“That would be so awesome, though! Ah, Mika-chan, can you sign this? Is Itsuki-
sama here, too? He’s so handsome!”
 
Arashi nudges Mika discreetly forward, murmuring, “It’s time to be famous,
right? This is what you’re gonna be doing if you guys go pro, so rise and
shine!”
 
With that, he shoves Mika forward into the adoring throng, all of them
thrusting out bromides, a couple of them on the verge of tears, all screaming,
“MIka-chaaaaaan!”
 
And one voice cuts through in a rough Kansai accent, as the woman from the
goods counter shoves her way through the crowd. “Oi! Micchan, make this bitch
gimme the special editions, huh? Hehhh, you wearin’ higher heels than me, huh?
You wobblin’? C’mere, I’ll fix yer hair.” Her long-fingered hand darts out,
plucking at the carefully coiffed hair, pulling it down over his blue eye.
 
There’s no fixing this now. Maybe if he had been smarter and faster in
explaining why he really wanted to leave to Arashi, this would have been
better—Mika has to remember, not everyone can read him like Shu can, not
everyone knows the difference between ‘I don’t really wanna do this, but you
have to make me’ and ‘I really really really don’t wanna do this, please let me
leave.’
 
His mother’s perfume makes him feel sick, but Mika gives up, heaving a resigned
sigh. “Mama, my hair’s fine,” he mumbles, even though he doesn’t try to stop
her from touching him. “Can y’jus’—just gimme a minute?” Maybe, maybe if he
just starts signing bromides, she’ll take the hint and leave him alone.
Doubtful, because Kagehira Ayumi is basically as clueless as they come, on
purpose. 
 
“Ungrateful! An’ I come all th’ way up here t’see ya, too!” Her voice is loud
enough that a couple of the fans shrink back, choosing to take their chances
waiting for Shu to emerge instead of contending with her. More surge forward to
take their place, almost immediately. “Micchan, th’ dancin’ was real good! Ya
must be gettin’ lotsa sponsors...money and stuff, right?”
 
Yikes, Arashi thinks with a mental wince, choosing to stay far out of that line
of fire. Sorry, Mika-chan!
 
“Mika-chan, I love you!” One girl calls, and as if that’s the floodgates, the
shouts start again.
 
“Mika-chan, please beat up my boyfriend!”
 
“Mika-chan, please be my boyfriend!”
 
“Marry me, Mika-chan~! I’ll be your slave!”
 
“What the hell is all this ruckus?” Itsuki Shu’s voice cuts through the crowd,
deep and demanding as he strides purposefully into the lobby. A fraction of
girls detatches from Mika’s throng, clutching goods and thrusting them forward,
and he ignores them (which only seems to make them scream louder). He casts an
eye over the crowd, and frowns. “Kagehira. You wouldn’t sign autographs without
me, would you?”
 
 Torn between dealing with his mother, and dealing with Shu, and dealing with
girls, Mika feels himself start to crumple, unsure of how to even react. “N-
no,” he whispers, slinking back nervously, biting his lip as he glances from
Shu, then back to his mother, finally settling on the latter. “Let’s just—let’s
go, Mama.” It’s easier to damage control if he can get her away from all of
them before she can say anything else, and he grabs at her arm, diving into the
crowd to haul her away.
 
His heart thuds in his chest, too fast, too hard, and Mika somehow manages to
drag Ayumi out of the lobby, outside into the lights in front of the Live
house. “Why did y’come all the way up here?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound
as tired and desperate as he feels. Talking to his mother when he’s in heels,
in a dress, with smudged makeup—it’s impossible not to fall into old habits,
where he ends up pulling his bangs over his blue eye himself. “Mama, I told you
I’d send money home later this month, jus’ like always, so…”
 
“But y’didn’t send enough last month! I got bills, Micchan,” she whines,
plucking at his sleeves with a sigh, tugging up his long hems to his wrists.
“Y’said y’weren’t doin’ so well and couldn’ send so much, so I came t’see--and
ya lied! You and that man, with the fairy hair? Ya look famous t’me. I mean, ya
look like an okama, but...”
 
“Mama, don’t say stuff like that,” Mika wearily says, hanging his head as he
rocks on his heels, and finally just steps out of them, stooping to pick them
up. “I didn’t lie. This is jus’ a school thing, it’s not real money. I mean, it
could be, but ’s not real money yet.” His stocking-clad toes scuff at the
pavement. “I’ll try t’send more this time. ’s hard to get a good job up here,
y’know, on top of school and stuff, but I’m tryin’…”
 
“Ya gotta try harder, Micchan,” Ayumi wheedles, brushing his hair down over his
eyes. She chucks him under the chin, then taps long nails against his cheek.
“When ya gonna come home’n visit, huh? The girls wanna see you--lots of ‘em are
askin’ if lil’ Micchan is the next big customer yet, ha! Bet they wouldn’ ask
if they could see ya now...that man ya were singin’ with, he the one ya been
livin’ with? Whatcha payin’ him? Don’t waste that money, I bet y’can think of a
better way t’pay ‘im.”
 
Mika swallows, shrugging as he takes a step back, tugging the hems of his
sleeves down again and nervously starting to pick at them. Shu’s going to kill
him if he messes this dress up, but he can’t think about that right now, he
can’t. “I jus’ help him with the bills, jus’ like I’m helpin’ you, that’s all,”
he mumbles. “If Dad’s been around, I’m gonna pass on visitin’ home, sorry.
Mama, y’can’t show up like this again, no one else’s parents do and it looks
weird.”
 
One long-fingered hand lashes out to slap him hard upside the head. “Oi! Don’t
be sayin’ I look old enough to be a mom, ugh!” Then her voice drops a little,
softens a little as she pets at his head. “He’s been comin’ ‘round way more
often, Micchan, not drinkin’ so much. Give him another chance, huh? Like, one
more. I won’ tell him ‘bout what you’re wearin’, promise.”
 
“Mama…” I’m a big homo, I live with my boyfriend, he specifically wrote a skit
so I could step on him on stage, how much more obvious can it be?It would be a
lot easier to just blurt all of that out and seal the deal for her to never,
ever come see him again, but for some reason, it just won’t happen. “…I’ll
think about it,” Mika quietly says instead, swaying on his feet, sparing a wary
glance back into the lobby. “I should probably get back. I don’t wanna leave
Oshi-san there too much longer without me.”
 
The door swings open, and Arashi hurries out, looking a little the worse for
wear, tugging his blazer back into place. “Mika-chan, Itsuki’s asking for you,”
he says, hovering on the edge of whether or not to say something to the loud,
overly-painted lady who looks barely thirty. “He says if you don’t come in soon
he’s gonna come out and get you.”
 
“Atashi?” Ayumi asks, raising an eyebrow at Mika.
 
“Forget it, Mama, please,” Mika sighs, plopping his shoes back onto the ground,
and stepping back into them with as little wobbling as he possibly can manage.
“I’m comin’, Naru-chan. Mama, do you need money for the Shinkansen?”
Anything to get her out of here faster, sooner, now.
 
“Ahhh, see, my Micchan is still a good boy after all, eh?” Ayumi pinches his
cheek hard, then leans down to plants a huge dark red kiss on the other. “Got
three tens? I know, it’s a lot, but I just came t’see ya, after all! Be nice to
me, Micchan!”
 
Mika bites down on a sigh, and fishes out his (mostly) empty wallet from what
is absolutely his bra. “Here,” he murmurs, forking over the bills. “Have a safe
trip back, okay? And call before y’try to visit again, please?”
 
“Then don’t screen m’calls, Micchan!” Cash in hand, she waves, heels clicking
away down the street as she sways her hips.
 
Arashi whistles low under his breath. He looks after Mika’s mom, and tries to
bite his tongue. “She, uh...seems nice. Here, use my sleeve, don’t wipe that on
your pretty clothes. Itsuki made those, right?”
 
“…y’don’t have to be nice about her, Naru-chan, I know she’s…yeah.” Exhausted,
defeated, and entirely unable to meet Arashi’s eyes, Mika borrows his sleeve
all the same, scrubbing the lipstick stain off his cheek. “Sorry for runnin’
out like that. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t’ve stopped causin’ a scene.”
 
“She, uh, do that a lot?” Arashi pulls back, not wanting to freak Mika out by
standing too close so soon after his mother had been grabbing at him. “Show up,
ask for money, insult your clothes? I mean, I’m used to being called an okama,
but you’re obviously just doing a performance...”
 
“Yeah, that’s pretty much her thing. Or it used t’be, before she got like, five
new sugar daddies, and now she only does it when she doesn’t feel like puttin’
out.” That’s definitely too much information, but Mika is too tired to censor
himself right now. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his eyes again, smudging
what’s left of his makeup. “They all still want my autograph? Or did Oshi-san
distract them by ignorin’ ‘em completely?” Girls like it when Shu does that.
 
“Looks like Itsuki’s been taunting them every time they try to chase after
you,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Not sure how he’s doing, but at least he hasn’t
got that doll on his arm. You sure your mom’s not coming back? She’s so, uh,
surprising?”
 
“She’s…” There’s no telling what his mother will do, honestly, and that just
makes Mika’s head throb. “Whatever. Ugh, I’m gonna go try and rescue him.
Thanks for helpin’ me, Naru-chan.” Because if Shu can do this, then he has to
be able to, and so it’s with a deep breath that Mika forces himself to go back
inside.
 
The lobby is still full of lingering girls, and the ones that swivel their
attention to him immediately…well, they’re scary, but at least it’s not his
mother, and at least that gives him a moment where he doesn’t have to meet
Shu’s eyes for running off and leaving him here all alone.
 
“Mika-chan!! Mika-chan, please, I have your bromides from last year, can you
sign them?”
 
Sure did stand in the same pose every time, didn’t I? Geez.“Y-yeah, sorry, my
autograph’s not as cool as Oshi-san’s—“
 
“You’re so cute, Mika-chan!”
 
“Mika-chan, me next, me next!”
 
“There you are, Kagehira.” Shu strides to his side with two quick steps, then
grabs Mika’s arm, tugging him close to a general squeal from the girls. His
eyes are piercing, slightly narrowed as he searches Mika’s face for something,
his own face inscrutable. Whatever he finds makes him nod once, then set off
for the exit. “Valkyrie does not waste time signing autographs for common,
vulgar girls like all of you. Come to the next live and gaze upon the glory of
our rebirth yet again, ha!”
 
“Itsuki-sama!!!!”
 
“Itsuki-samaaa, please be mean to me!”
 
“Itsuki-sama, kiss him!”
 
Shu ignores them all, lacing his arm through Mika’s and striding backstage,
letting the door swing shut behind them. Once it does, he turns, cupping Mika’s
face in his skilled hands. “Are you well, Mika?”
 
The dam breaks anew, because there’s nothing like his mother to leave him
feeling washed out, wrung out, hung out to dry, especially when he’s already
pushed to the limit and he can barely even keep himself on his feet.
 
But Shu is calling him Mika, Shu isn’t scolding him, Shu isn’t passed out
anymore and his hands are warm and soft…
 
Mika knows the first sob is an ugly, heaving thing, and so he seeks to muffle
them by throwing himself into Shu’s chest, burying his face against him.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans, helplessly clinging as his knees finally buckle.
“I’m s-sorry, Shu, I tried really hard, I’ll practice harder next time, I
promise, d-don’t give up on me jus’ yet, okay?”
 
Shu’s arms are warm and strong around Mika’s shoulders, drawing him closer,
squeezing him tight with no outward intention of releasing him at any point.
“What an absurd display,” he manages, laying a cheek against Mika’s hair. “If
you’re going to keep apologizing for things out of your control, you’ll never
have time to learn your next routine. Or don’t you want to go on the pro
circuit with me any longer?”
 
“B-but I made us lose.” Mika’s nails curl against Shu’s back, his grip vice-
tight. “If I had just hung on a little longer, we could’ve…” He gulps, his
breath ragged. “Could’ve won the whole thing, and y’wouldn’t’ve h-had to push
yourself so hard. Y’should be able t’depend on me for more stuff, but I jus’ go
and mess it up…”
 
“Mika.” Shu’s eyes are alight, more alive than they’ve been in long months, and
he whispers into Mika’s hair, “I can’t wait to design the routines for the next
Live. Don’t spoil the triumph of this day with your whining. We fought well,
and next time we’ll win. Ah, ah, I’m seeing the script already--and the
costumes, something Regency-inspired, you moved so beautifully tonight--dark
silk? But you must be able to move in it, so perhaps...mm, that’s for later,
though. For now: come home with me, I want to practice.” His fingers dig in to
Mika’s arms, all eager energy and exuberance, for once seeming very much a
teenager of eighteen years.
 
“…E…eh?” Mika’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and wet as he stares up at Shu,
not entirely comprehending. It’s been so long since he’s seen Shu act like
this, so long since he hasn’t been furious or upset or just as catatonic as
Mika feels about a performance that this seems like it’s the weird way to act,
not the way things used to be. He swallows, nodding automatically, unlatching
one hand from Shu enough to scrub at his swollen eyes. “Okay,” he whispers,
heaving a soft, ragged breath. “Okay. Yeah. You were really amazing, Shu.” But
that’s a given, isn’t it? “S-sorry I ran out on you. My mom, she’s…you didn’t
want her around, trust me, so I had to get her to leave.”
 
“My tuning is nearly complete,” Shu murmurs, hands moving to touch Mika’s arms,
his wrists, his neck, prodding and poking for the tension, the muscle tone, the
easy movement of the joints. “You were near perfect, weren’t you? Ah, I’m
starving, we should eat. Then I’ll start planning next Live’s costumes, ha!
I’ll fix a challenge note to Tenshouin’s door this time! That’ll show him! Come
along, Mika! Hold your head high, we are Valkyrie!”
 
Mika’s heart aches, and for the first time in months, it’s an agonizingly good
ache. It’s been so long since Shu has poked and prodded at him like this, like
he’s his perfect little doll, and it’s been even longer since he’s said things
like this—I’m starving, I want to plan things, I want to fight Tenshouin
Eichi—and Mika nods happily, grabbing at Shu’s arm and clinging to it
excitedly. “Mm! We’re the best, aren’t we, Oshi-san?” he happily agrees,
scrubbing away the last of his tears, unconcerned that his hand keeps coming
away smeared with his makeup, because nothing matters now that Shu is being
like this again. “Ahh, it was the best to wear one of your dresses on stage—I
wanna do it again, I’ll wear heels like this all the time if it means I can
dance with you like that again~…”
 
“Don’t be stupid, Mika. You think I’ve invested this much work into something
as beautiful as you just to throw it away? Nonsense!” Shu laces his fingers
through Mika’s, and tugs him towards the exit. “I have an idea for another
skit. This one got the desired reaction, didn’t it? Not that we need to concern
ourselves with the yapping of the vulgar masses, of course. Check my bag, I
packed flats for you to walk home.”
 
Shu thinks I’m beautiful, Mika dreamily focuses on, unable to even argue about
not needin’ flats!when he’s been complimented so nicely. He rummages through
Shu’s bag, hurrying to step out of his shoes and trade them for his flats.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen so many people at one of our lives,” he
sighs, shutting his eyes in relief at being able to walk in something
comfortable again. He squeezes Shu’s hand, trotting after him happily. Maybe,
maybe normal people on the street will think that he’s Shu’s girlfriend. “I
can’t wait until we get to do photoshoots ’n stuff again.”
 
“Yes, we should practice poses. Perhaps something...mm, new this time, don’t
you think? Not that our previous pose wasn’t perfect, but it was a bit sameish
after a while.”
 
“Oooooi, Micchan!” Kagehira Ayumi waves from across the street, jaywalking
unsteadily through traffic, heels clopping as she waves at cars to stop.
“Micchan, I got so lost lookin’ fer the train, I--ooh, it’s the man y’was
dancin’ on, right? Kagehira Ayumi, I’m Mika’s big sis!” She flashes a peace
sign, eyes flicking up and down Shu’s body, mentally calculating.
 
Mika cringes immediately, and tries with everything in his power not to slink
behind Shu. It’s incredibly difficult, and his grip tightens desperately on
Shu’s hand. “Mama, y’gotta stop tellin’ people that,” he mumbles, staring down
at his feet. “If y’need to go to the train station, it’s jus’ down the road at
the light, then take a left…” Shu meeting his mother is right out of his
darkest nightmares—she’s living proof of what he is, from where he came from,
and beautiful, perfect, elegant, cultured Shu seeing that is right up there on
his list of worst things, especially on an evening like this.
 
Ayumi disregards this with the speed of someone who hadn’t really been
searching for the train station in the first place, sidling up closer, one
skinny hip cocked out to the side, exposing a sliver of belly skin as she
tosses bleached hair over her shoulder, sending her earrings jangling. “Micchan
don’t write much aboutcha back home, ya know? Jus’ that ya got a big nice house
an’ make him clothes. Ahhh, Micchan, naughty! I was expectin’ a lil’ boy, but
this is a man, ya know?”
 
Shu’s skin is suddenly pale and clammy, body going stiff. His left hand feels
empty without Mademoiselle--why had he left her at home? Why had he thought he
could do this on his own?--and his mouth goes dry, lips sticking together.
 
“T-there’s nothin’ naughty about it,” Mika defensively replies, sending a
nervous glance up at Shu before forcing himself to release his hand. He
swallows hard as he steps in front of Shu, protective as much as he is anxious,
and he automatically lifts a hand to smooth hair over his blue eye, knowing
she’ll do it if he doesn’t, and unsure if he can stomach her touching him right
now. “Mama, we gotta get home, we’ve been performin’ all night…d’you want me to
walk you to the station? Then Oshi-san can get home, he’s awfully tired.”
 
Ayumi ignores him, side-stepping him to get closer to Shu and tapping a long,
fake nail against his chest. “What’s the rush, hah? I can stay in Tokyo for a
night, ya know. Daddy won’ mind. Oi, nii-chan, say my name--A~yu~mi! Super
cute, right?”
 
“Mama, please,” Mika begs, stumbling over the train of his dress as he turns,
grabbing for her arm. “I don’t have the money for y’to get a hotel in Tokyo.
And Oshi-san’s house ain’t that big, s-so there’s no room there, I’m really
sorry…”
 
Ayumi’s patience frays, partly from Shu’s lack of response to her charms,
partly from Mika’s nagging, and it’s at him that she snaps. “Oi, don’ talk to
me like that! Ya wanna call me Mama, ya best act like y’got some respect! Ya
pickin’ at them hems again, huh? Thought I broke ya of that.” She yanks at his
hems, tugging them up. “There, now everyone can see that y’got--”
 
“Don’t touch him!” Shu’s voice spikes suddenly high and piercing, loud enough
to echo down the half-empty street. He swats Ayumi’s hand away, stepping
between Mika and Ayumi, eyes blazing. “Don’t--he’s perfect, you’ll spoil him,
no one is allowed to touch him and no one is allowed to talk to him like that,
you horrible woman!” His heart thunders in his chest in an irregular rhythm,
the stress and exhaustion warring with the sudden irrational desire to throw
himself into traffic rather than let anyone touch Kagehira Mika (no one is
allowed to touch him, hands all over Nito had spoiled him, no one is allowed,
Mademoiselle should be here to help, what is he doing?).
 
Mika falls stark-still, frozen and wide-eyed as he stares up at Shu’s back in
disbelief. It’s not like he’s ever been able to raise his voice at someone
bothering Shu like that, but he’s the one always defending Shu, or at least,
trying to, not the other way around…especially when it comes to parents. In his
mind, his mom is scary, pushy, impossible to deter, and shouting at her means a
slap to the face, at best. Shu is much braver than him, Shu is defending him,
and it makes his chest ache. He gulps, reaching out a trembling hand to grab at
the back of Shu’s coat, fisting his fingers into perfectly tailored fabric.
“Shu,” he whispers. “C…can we go?”
 
That small Kyoto-ben voice at his back is the only thing that reminds Shu that
he needs to be functional, that this isn’t the time to have a hysterical
breakdown in the middle of a city street after a Live. He moves on instinct,
bending to throw Mika over one shoulder, then striding purposefully across the
street as fast as his long legs can carry him, away from Kagehira Ayumi’s
stunned, wary, painted expression. “We’re going home! You’ll be lucky if I ever
let you leave the house again, letting people touch you, you’re mine!”
 
The squeak that leaves Mika’s voice is less frightened, more surprised into
being bewildered and thrilled all at once when he’s suddenly off his feet and
dangling. “O-okay?! U-uh, Shu, I can…” I can walk is on the tip of Mika’s
tongue, but instead what escapes is a dazed, pleased, “Shu, you’re so strong…”
 
“It’s adrenaline, you idiot!” Shu’s voice is trembling, but not from the strain
of carrying Mika. “And you should eat more!”
 
At least they’re no more than a few streets from the house, and his shoulder is
just starting to ache when he opens the door, setting Mika down safely (safe,
got to lock him away) inside, shutting the door and locking every lock. “Does
she know our address?”
 
Mika dumbly shakes his head, staring up at Shu, still wide-eyed and more than a
little shocked by what just happened as he wobbles on his own two feet again.
“N-no. I always put the return address as school, ‘cuz I never wanted her
showin’ up here out of the blue…” He trails off, exhaling a shaky breath. “I’m
really sorry ‘bout her,” he blurts out, abruptly glancing aside and biting his
lip. “I…I know she’s terrible, I don’t think she would’ve done anythin’ real
bad, though…”
 
“I can’t believe your mother is worse than mine.” Shu checks the locks, then
nods, satisfied. “I don’t want to cook tonight, but if you’re hungry we can
order something in. I...” His hand starts itching for Mademoiselle, but he can
talk to Mika, at least. He strides forward, cupping Mika’s face in his hands,
breath still coming fast, licking his lips. His eyes are searching, a little
desperate, as only a man who’s found what he’s looking for and is terrified of
losing it can be. Nito had left him after outbursts like this, but Mika...Mika
is better, isn’t he? More resilient, more forgiving, isn’t he? “Don’t leave,”
he whispers, all other words deserting him.
 
“W…what?” Mika’s gaze immediately jerks back up, and he blinks up at Shu, his
brow furrowing in confusion. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, right?” he says with
a nervous laugh, reaching both of his hands up to clutch at Shu’s, now-chipped
nails curling against the backs of Shu’s hands. “Why would I leave? I don’t
wanna go back out there if my mom’s around, and the way y’carried me off like
that…” He trails off as his face flushes hot, and he shrugs helplessly. “N-no
one’s…I didn’t think somethin’ like that would ever happen to me. Was like
y’were a prince stealin’ me away from a dragon, y’know? And y’said I was yours,
and t-that…that no one else was allowed to touch me.” He swallows, lowering his
eyes. “I like that. A lot.”
 
Shu’s knees wobble, and he grips Mika’s hands, probably too tightly, resting
his forehead against Mika’s. The relief is so strong he sags, and presses a
hurried kiss against that soft, wild hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without
you,” he says, voice shaking. “I’m--I just want to look at you forever, I...” I
don’t know how else to express this feeling where I’d throw myself between you
and the rest of the world, please understand like you do when I call you a
failure and you beam up at me.
 
“…If we could get away with stayin’ in your house forever, that’d be good,
yeah?” Mika gently butts his head up against Shu’s, daring a glance up through
his eyelashes, which would work better if they weren’t clumpy with mascara,
honestly. What a night. “It’s okay, Shu. I don’t really wanna do anything than
have you look at me…well, maybe wear all the stuff y’make me,” he admits
sheepishly. “But I guess that’s part of it, huh?”
 
Shu sags the rest of the way down to the floor, sprawling in an awkward, failed
seiza as his legs finally give out. “Too much,” he gasps, resting his head
against Mika’s thigh. “Too much for the day, take care of me already.”
 
“Right, right,” Mika hurriedly agrees, petting his fingers through Shu’s hair
automatically. Definitely too much for the day—between the Live, his mother,
everything…Mika exhales a long, unsteady breath, and resists the urge to just
flop onto the floor next to Shu. If he weren’t still in the dress Shu made him,
there wouldn’t have been any contest. “I’ll go run a bath, yeah? Y’need t’eat
somethin’, you were so hungry earlier…” Fuck you, Mama, if you ruined that,
Mika wearily thinks. “I can run back out to the conbini, or…”
 
“No, no, eating now would be absurd. If you’re hungry, I--”
 
Shu’s stomach growls so loudly he can physically feel it, and he huffs out a
breath. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t go alone, what if she finds you? We’ll--ah,
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ll just order a pizza. After we bathe.”
 
Shu, Itsuki Shu, ordering a pizza? The world really has come to an end. Mika
tries not to laugh and fails, slapping a hand over his own mouth the second
he’s sure it’s going to end up making him lose out on pizza for the first time
in a year and a half. “S-sorry,” he giggles. “I jus’ never thought
you’d suggest orderin’ pizza.”
 
“I’ve changed my mind, we’re just going to starve! Stop laughing, you
imbecile!” Despite himself, a tiny smile tugs at Shu’s mouth. “You do it, you
know where the money is. I’ll run the bath.” Unspoken is that Mika is far
better on the phone than he is. “Get whatever’s appropriate on such a thing, I
haven’t had it since Kiryuu’s house in elementary school.”
 
Mika nods, his eyes lighting up like stars. “Okay! But then y’gotta help me out
of this dress,” he plaintively says as he turns to trot away into the kitchen.
“If I mess it up, I’ll never stop kickin’ myself.”
 
There’s something cathartic about being able to order pizza after a long night
and a really, really exhausting live, and by the time Mika counts out the money
and sets it out on the counter, geared up for the inevitable doorbell ringing
in about half an hour, he hears the groan of the house’s water pipes squeak to
a halt. He gingerly tugs on the extension clips in his hair as he makes his way
to the bathroom, starting a small collection of them in hand. “Shuuu,” he
whines. “I don’t wanna mess any of this stuff up, please help.”
 
Shu pauses in the middle of undressing, down to his unfastened black trousers,
shirt and jacket already hanging up. “Turn around. I’ll undo it. Ah, your hair
is all sweaty, isn’t it? You worked hard.” His fingers are lingering, plucking
at each fastening, each bow and tie with the utmost care, both for the dress
and for the man inside it. He catches sight of them in the mirror, and raises
an eyebrow. “Heh. We really look rather heterosexual at the moment, don’t we?”
 
“I was kinda hopin’ someone would think I was your girlfriend earlier, when
y’were holdin’ my hand,” Mika admits, exhaling a long, relieved sigh when the
back of his dress unravels, and he can really breathe again. After a few hours,
sweaty lace is scratchy and irritating, and he wonders how girls wear this
all the time—especially the stuff under their clothes, too, which is all
currently driving him a little bit insane. “Ahh…my mom definitely thinks I’m an
okama, but I guess I don’t care that much…”
 
“Stupid woman. It’s theatre, obviously.” Shu strips the dress off, then has an
idea, draping it over his arm instead of hanging it up. “Get in the bath, I’m
going to hang it up properly.”
 
Before going back to the bathroom, he plucks at the silky lingerie laid out on
the bed, face flushed with the idea of Mika putting such things on after the
bath. It’s probably stupid to do this tonight, but...well, he has been planning
this since before the Live, working on the pieces in secret for weeks,
imagining what he’s going to look like.
 
Then he tugs the door shut, shucking his trousers and underwear, climbing into
the old clawfoot tub with Mika. “Ahhh. Turn, I’ll wash your hair.”
 
Mika, slumped down into the tub and letting the steam alone wash away the last
of his smeared and smudged makeup, contently flops his way around, sloshing the
water against the sides of the tub. “You don’t always wanna take a bath with
me,” he hums, pleased beyond belief. “First pizza, now this, you’re spoilin’ me
tonight.” More correctly, first you carried me off like I was your prize, but
he still hasn’t really processed that part.
 
“Don’t be ridiculous. I merely didn’t want to wait, either for food or a bath.
You’re causing me so much trouble tonight.” Shu rubs a pump of shampoo into
Mika’s soft wavy hair, slowly lathering. “We’re going to destroy fine at long
last.”
 
Mika nearly slithers to the bottom of the tub underneath the press and knead of
Shu’s fingers. “Mmhmm,” he purrs, his eyes fluttering shut as he tips his head
back into Shu’s hands. “I wanna go with you when we post the challenge notice
on their door, like y’said earlier…I bet we could beat any of them with the
kinda stuff we did tonight, Shu…”
 
“Unlike Undead, fine has some weak links, some very easy ones to exploit, and
not nearly the endurance of some others. Wataru...will be dangerous. You’ll
leave him to me. And Tenshouin, of course, because I have to rip out his throat
with my own two hands.” Shu’s voice is fond, almost dreamy as he massages too
long, probably far too long.
 
“Y’gotta let me help some, Shu…” Mika feels himself start to go boneless, and
he sags backwards, slipping back in the tub to flop into Shu’s chest. “Shuuuu,
you have the best hands, y’gotta stop pettin’ me or I’m gonna drown.”
 
“You can’t drown. You haven’t been conditioned yet. Ha! Nice pun. I’m still
conditioning your body, you see.” Shu indulges himself a little, trailing his
hands down the back of Mika’s neck, then down to wash his chest. “You’re
getting much more definition here.”
 
“…and y’gotta stop pettin’ me like that, or I’m gonna get distracted,” Mika
grouses, even as he’s the one that turns his head, stuffing his face into Shu’s
neck and mouthing a kiss to the side of it. “Ain’t it bad if I get too much
muscle? Then I’ll really look like a guy in a dress and not…yeah.”
 
Shu sniffs, pulling his hands back to dump water on Mika’s head. “Don’t insult
my dressmaking. Obviously the raw materials matter some, but I can make you
look however I want.”
 
Entirely too used to this, Mika doesn’t even react to water suddenly being all
over his face, other than to blink some of it away from his eyes. “But I wanna
look cute and pretty, because then you’ll call me beautiful again…”
 
“I’ll call you that whenever I like. And if I ever see someone yank at your
clothes again, I can’t say I’ll be held responsible for what I do, Mika.”
Another dousing of water, then the conditioner makes its way through slowly to
the ends. “She’s lucky I didn’t put her in a pot and boil her.”
 
Mika’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he says nothing for a moment, his eyes
lidding again at the methodical touches to his hair. “Even if it’s my mom…I
really like when you say stuff like that,” he admits with a little laugh. “I
mean, I wish you hadn’t had to meet her like that, but if it’s gonna make you
sound all possessive and stuff, that’s real nice.”
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shu frowns, working the cream rinse
through every single hair. “I’d thought you’d hate it. Confrontation, and the
like. I just...couldn’t stand it. I won’t have it. This is my work, no one is
allowed to touch it, not those pathetic screaming fans and not that horrible
woman. None of them are half the lady Mademoiselle is.”
 
“Mado-nee is a real lady,” Mika automatically agrees, giving up the fight not
to lean back again, and flops against Shu with a content sigh. “Hate
confrontation,” he mumbles in agreement. “But y’got all possessive, and carried
me off like that…that was th’ best.”
 
“Don’t expect me to do that all the time. I need to be in my peak condition to
fight Tenshouin.” Water splashes down over Mika again, and Shu gives him a prod
in the shoulder. “Get up, I’m going to get pruney and I hate that.”
 
“But you’re so waaarm.” Mika nuzzles underneath his chin, snuggling up against
Shu’s chest in the water. “Shu, you’re a lot stronger than you wanna let on!
You picked me up and threw me over your shoulder like I weighed nothin’.”
 
The doorbell rings, and Mika hisses out a breath like a startled cat, clinging
to Shu’s shoulders. “Pizza,” he dimly recalls, grumpy that he now has to get
out of the tub. “I hate th’ doorbell.” With great reluctance, he hauls himself
out of the tub, dripping wet, and grabs the nearest shirt (Shu’s) to pull it on
over his head. “Comin’!” he calls, snatching up a pair of boxers as well to
drag himself into those before darting out to intercept the pizza guy before he
leaves. It’s been too long without corn and mayonnaise, thank you very much.
 
Shu rinses quickly, then towels off, waiting (hiding) in the bathroom until he
hears the pizza guy leave. He emerges in just a pair of Mika’s boxers, which
are really too small, folding himself up on the low sofa next to the coffee
table in the front room. “Let’s be really absurd tonight, Mika. Eat on the
couch with me, not even in proper clothes.”
 
“We’re already eatin’ pizza, which is the best,” Mika hums, eagerly flopping
down on the couch next to Shu and bringing the entire pizza box with him. “I
can’t believe y’haven’t had pizza since elementary school! I mean, I guess it’s
been awhile for me, too, but not that long.” He flips open the box, selecting a
piece and immediately taking a bite, even if it’s hot enough to burn off the
roof of his mouth. “‘m gonna die happy,” he groans, listing sideways.
 
“What on earth--mayonnaise and corn?” Shu’s voice is half-curious, half-aghast,
staring at the white-and-yellow creation. “This is going to be disgusting. I
can’t believe you have such bad taste. I’ll have to break you of that
eventually. Something like this--”
 
He takes a bite, and flavor explodes, sweet and salty and creamy and tangy on
his tongue, and his expression changes. “I...mm. I suppose your taste will do
for now.”
 
“The best, right? Right?” Mika snuggles up against Shu’s side, already on his
second slice, and trying to remember to pace himself (sort of). “There was only
ooone place where I grew up that delivered, and this was the only good kinda
pizza they made, heh. But it’s the best, so that’s okay. Ahh, I’m still real
sorry about my mom from earlier,” he laments, stuffing another bite of pizza
into his mouth. “I was hopin’ you’d never have t’meet her, and she was in rare
form tonight…”
 
“Why is she...like that?” Shu asks, not so much trying to be delicate as he is
trying to say something that makes sense, and he has no idea how to put that
woman into words. “With the--the hair, and the nails, and the voice, and the
touching, ugh. You’re not that way.”
 
Mika flips a few different explanations around in his head before deciding
screw it. Shu already knows more about him than anyone else, parents included,
so there’s no point, really. “‘Cuz she’s…she’s tryin’ to get attention from
guys left and right.” Mika plucks up a piece of corn, popping it into his mouth
with a sigh. “My mom works at a spa. The kind that caters to foreigners. Said
there’s not much else for her t’do when she got knocked up in high school, ‘cuz
I ruined everythin’, y’know.”
 
“This is why it’s better to stick to dolls, Mika,” Shu says with an offhand
shrug, stuffing another piece of pizza into his mouth with a gusto usually
reserved for croissants. This is, of course, a special occasion. “Or to be
homosexual, I suppose. Much less difficult. Is she a prostitute?”
 
“She doesn’t like that word, but yep,” Mika tiredly says, folding up his pizza
slice into a little rolled blanket before biting into it. “Told me instead of
gettin’ a job t’help pay your bills, I should be ‘doin’ somethin’ more fun with
you to pay rent.’ Stupid double standard, if she actually knew I was a homo,
she’d flip out.”
 
“Fortunately, I doubt you need to have much contact with her in the future. You
aren’t intending to go back home after graduation, after all.” Shu starts
another slice, but his stomach turns over at the second bite, and he sets it
back in the box. “Well, that’s enough of that. How does this keep?
Refrigerator? I don’t know anything about pizza.”
 
“Pizza never dies,” Mika sagely tells him, finishing up his slice in short
order and shutting the box. “But the fridge is fine. And yeah, I ain’t goin’
back home, I’d rather die or be a bum on the streets. Between her and my dad…”
He shivers, then shrugs, hopping off the couch to put up the pizza. “’s no
good, don’t wanna.”
 
“As if I’d allow such a thing,” Shu says with a huff, quelling the panic that
rises in him at the idea that Mika could go back to Kansai, even for a moment.
 
Well, he’ll just have to rise to the occasion. He takes the pizza box into the
kitchen, then calls, “I’m taking out my contacts. Go into the bedroom and
wait.” Please like it. Please don’t think it’s weird or too much.
 
“Mm, all right.” Mika stifles a yawn, rubbing a hand through his still-damp
hair—it always takes forever to dry, no matter what he does—and slowly makes
his way to the bedroom, pretty darn ready to collapse facefirst into Shu’s big,
comfy bed.
 
Except the bed is…occupied.
 
Mika remains in the doorway for a moment, staring at what’s laid out on the
bed—lingerie, made in the colors of Valkyrie, with ruffles and lace and
dangling garters and soft, soft silky-satin that makes his fingers twitch with
the urge to touch. He exhales a soft breath, stepping closer and reaching out a
hand like he’s trying to pet a stray cat that he’s afraid will run away, and
runs a thumb over the lacy edgings. Shu made this. For me? No matter how many
times Shu has made him something beautiful, something lovely, it’s still hard
for it to stick, and the doubt is stronger with something like this, something
so beautifully sewn that he’s afraid to even try it on.
 
“You don’t like it.”
 
Shu’s voice is flat and nervous in the doorway as he watches Mika stare. He
looks away, looks anywhere but at Mika, hoping the disappointment doesn’t show
too strongly on his face. “Just throw it away, then.”
 
Mika jumps, bolting as he turns around, his eyes wide. “N-no! No, that’s not…”
He flutters a hand nervously. “Th’ last time I tried somethin’ on this pretty,
you…y’yelled at me, a little, because I didn’t do it right,” he says, dropping
his hand and glancing away. “I didn’t wanna put it on and mess it up…ahh, I’m
sorry, I know I’m bein’ stupid, sometimes I can hardly believe y’make things
this nice and that t-they’re for me, so I…”
 
“Shh. Just--be quiet for a moment. And take your clothes off.” His fingers itch
to pick some of the garments up, so he does, plucking at the delicate fabric
and holding it up and open. “If you want, I’ll put it on you. Then you
can...look at it.”
 
A hurried nod, and Mika strips, tugging his (Shu’s) shirt up and over his head,
kicking his boxers away as well. “Promise…promise you won’t laugh, if I look
bad?” he worriedly presses. “I mean, I know y’made it, so it’s perfect, b-but
’s not like when I’m in a dress, that’s a lot easier to kinda make work and
stuff…”
 
“Stop yammering, you’re spouting nonsense and it’s going to give me a headache.
Just--step in here.” Sometimes Mika’s protestations are just too much and too
stupid to deal with, and Shu’s patience is not infinite. He tugs first a pair
of panties, then a garterbelt with a huge flared gauze skirt into place before
starting on the top piece. Mika has nothing to cup or support, but that’s why
Shu had made it with built-in padding and dramatic (long) sleeves for
camouflage. There aren’t nearly as many parts as there are to the Valkyrie
costumes, and Shu steps back after just a few moments, satisfied. Mika looks
stunning, a creature of lace, chiffon, and somehow sex appeal to the point that
Shu is loathe to step back, eyes running Mika up and down a few times hungrily.
“Very nice. Very, very nice. I outdid myself.”
 
Even if he’s just been in a dress on stage, in public, physically stepping on
Shu, this is what makes Mika’s face flush hot, his eyes lidded as he can’t stop
himself from touching whatever he can reach, running his fingers over soft
fabric. The way Shu looks at him makes Mika’s toes curl, and he exhales a soft
breath, biting his lip as he reaches forward, grabbing for Shu’s hand. “…I’d
wear this kinda stuff all the time if y’wanted me to,” he admits, sounding a
little breathless. “Even under my uniform at school ’n things like that…ahh,
does that make me a pervert? I jus’—the way you look at me…”
 
“How...” Shu’s voice fails for a moment, and he clears his throat, squeezing
Mika’s hand with one hand, then running the other over the chest panels,
dipping lower to brush a thumb over the taut fabric stretched over Mika’s soft
cock. “How does it feel? Can you describe it? I’ve never...” Cared how it felt
to wear before, putting clothes on my dolls.
 
Mika’s breath hiccups. “I…I mean…” Trying to put it into words is hard,
especially words that don’t sound stupid, so Mika gives up, deciding to just
say what he always thinks. “It feels like—like I’m actually as beautiful as
y’always say I am,” he says with a nervous little laugh, fiddling with one of
the hems on his sleeves, at the soft, fluttery fabric that drapes over his
fingers. “Soft, and silky, and it’s like…like your hands are all over me, ‘cuz
you made it for me, s-so it just…feels like you.”
 
He swallows, taking a suddenly urgent step forward, his fingers hooking into
the waistband of Shu’s boxers. “Can I? I’ve…I’ve always wanted to, when wearin’
somethin’ like this…”
 
“I--”
 
Shu’s knees buckle again warningly, and he sits on the edge of the bed, fingers
curling into the bedding. It’s hard to deny him when it’s one of his own
fantasies as well, with Mika all lovely and reaching and petting when
he’susually the one reaching out, the one whose hands are all over, the one
people try to push away. “Go on.” It’s been weeks since he’s felt Mika’s mouth.
It had felt incredible, but Shu hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the
act is taking advantage of Mika somehow. “You look so young without all that
makeup,” he whispers, eyes caressing Mika’s face.
 
Mika tries to be graceful about dropping down to his knees, but that’s easier
said than done when he’s suddenly, achingly needy, and has to have his mouth on
Shu or he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. His bare knees sink into the
carpeted floor, and he lowers his eyes, his fingers eagerly peeling away the
thin fabric of Shu’s boxers. “So long as I look pretty for you…Oshi-san.” It’s
one thing to be able to call Shu by his given name whenever he likes in
private; it’s something else to be able to still call him Oshi-san in
situations like this, when it’s less respectful, way sexier, and it makes him
squirm where he kneels, soft, silky satin against his cock feeling far better
than it probably should. “Oshi-san,” he breathes, mouthing kisses up the inside
of one of Shu’s thighs, making his way up to his cock. “I think about this all
th’ time, if I could have my mouth on you all th’ time, I’d be happy…”
 
This is incredibly unfair, Shu thinks wildly. When did Mika get so
frustratingly sexy? It’s one thing to think he’s sexy when they’re making love.
It’s another when Mika is taking control, yet still looking up at him with
those seemingly innocent mismatched eyes, being very deliberate about dragging
a lot mouth over his skin. His skin prickles all over, and his thighs part,
hips jerking up, cock bumping against Mika’s cheek. “Y-you can’t say things
like that,” he gasps.
 
“Why not?” Mika fairly whines, tilting his head to let Shu’s cock rub further
up his cheek, and to let his lips drag against the underside of it. His fingers
splay against Shu’s thighs, trembling a little in his eagerness. “I wanna wear
somethin’ like this under my clothes at school,” he murmurs, licking his lips
before his tongue flicks out again, getting a taste of the precome already
beading at the tip of Shu’s cock. The taste alone sends heat pooling swiftly
down to his belly, and he whimpers, his eyes fluttering. “S-so I can take ‘em
off in our practice room and do this t’you again. Nnn, Oshi-san, feed it to
me,” he begs, “I want y’to touch me.”
 
Shu’s hand flies down between his legs, squeezing the base of his cock tightly,
yanking Mika’s head back with the other hand. “S-sorry,” he says through
heaving pants, chest rising and falling fast. “Too much--it’ll be too fast,
you’re too much, I want to enjoy this.”
 
“Oshi-saaan,” Mika groans helplessly, tugging against the hand in his hair. “If
you come fast, I’ll jus’ suck it again, I don’t mind. I told you, I could have
it in my mouth all the time and I’d be happy.”
 
It’s too much already. Shu lets out a cry, hand still gripping Mika’s hair, and
just the friction of the head of his cock bumping against Mika’s cheek is too
much. He spills hard and sudden, painting Mika’s face, some landing in his hair
or on his eyelashes, every spurt drawing a helpless groan out of him.
 
When his mind clears, he’s mortified at the sight, lunging for a handkerchief.
“No, no, I’ve messed you up, you’re all--”
 
“Sit, Oshi-san, please,” Mika quickly begs, pushing Shu back down by fumbling
hands on his hips, even as his own chest heaves, his cock achingly hard and
straining against perfectly sewn satin. He lifts a hand to gingerly wipe at his
face, and can’t quite resist licking a stripe over the back of his hand,
shuddering at the taste that makes his skin flush hotter. “’s not messin’ me up
if I like it,” he rasps, grabbing for Shu’s cock again with eager fingers,
feeling how it still twitches in his grasp. He mouths a hot, wet kiss over the
tip, his tongue swiping flat over it to lick it clean. “And I’m your doll,
right?” he murmurs. “You can use me however y’like, however many times y’want.”
 
“No, no--no, Mika, that’s not how--”
 
Shu scrubs his hands down his face, feeling startled, vulnerable, heart
thudding against his ribs. He slides down off the bed, kneeling in front of
Mika, grabbing his face to kiss his (clean) cheek, his lips, his hair, his
forehead again and again, blinking rapidly. “I...I am at your service.”
 
Mika blinks at him, wide-eyed and more than a little dazed from arousal, and
slowly shakes his head, grabbing Shu’s shoulders to give him a gentle shake.
“Shu,” he quietly says. “You’ve gotta let me spoil you for a change, even if
it’s jus’ a little. Please? I like bein’ your doll, I really like bein’ able to
make you feel good. C’mon, I’m good at this, and you made me look so pretty,”
he adds with a breathless laugh. “Lemme show off.”
 
Shu covers his face with his hands for a moment, trying to get his thoughts
together. Mika is just such a relief to be around, someone who makes his heart
rate beat quietly, who makes him stay long hours at school to practice just to
be worthy of standing next to such a beauty. It’s unlike him to allow someone
to take care of him, but...
 
He heaves a breath, then stands, laying down on the bed. “Then show off,” he
says softly, eyes following every bit of Mika’s movements. It’s for you that I
do all of this, he wants to say, but knows his tongue has only insults left, so
he holds it.
 
Mika nods quickly, crawling after Shu onto the bed, layers of chiffon trailing
behind him. “You’re the best,” he breathes, nuzzling his way up Shu’s thighs
again, pushing his hair back from his face one-handedly as he plants kisses
over the jut of one of Shu’s hips. He grabs for Shu’s hand, guiding it back to
his hair. “Love it when you touch me, Oshi-san,” he murmurs, his eyes lidding.
“I can tell how much y’want me when you do.”
 
“Don’t say such stupid things,” Shu whispers, fingers carding through Mika’s
flyaways, tugging his head down, trying to be gentle when he wants so much. “I
always want you, whether I’m touching you or not.” It’s different from the way
it is when he grabs at others, or the way he’d tugged at Nito’s clothes--no,
now’s not the time to think of him.
 
“It helps me...remember that you’re only mine.”
 
A rumbling sound of approval leaves Mika’s throat. “Only yours,” he eagerly
agrees, mouthing a wet kiss against the side of Shu’s half-hard cock.
“Mmn—Oshi-san…”
 
This time, he’s going to have Shu’s dick in his mouth if it kills him. He curls
shaky, excited fingers around the base of Shu’s cock, letting the head of it
rub and bump against his lips before they part, slick and still a little
stained from his makeup earlier when they wrap around it. Mika doesn’t waste
time in letting Shu’s cock slide up against his tongue, a single bob of his
head taking a good half of him into his mouth, where he can feel every
centimeter harden and swell down his throat. His eyes flutter, a groan stuck in
his throat, and he scoots further up between Shu’s spread legs to better lap
and suck at Shu’s cock. Wearing what he’s wearing is another level of
distraction, another level of arousal—it’s not just his cock straining against
his panties, but the way his nipples feel, hard and tender when they rub
against the padding of his bra. I’m a total pervert,Mika thinks dazedly, but
ah, well. There’s no helping it.
 
Shu’s first instinct is to pull a pillow over his face to hide the way it must
be twisting, contorted in rapture. He must look a fright, embarrassing, the
throes of ecstasy ripping through his good sense and destroying his
composure...but Mika doesn’t seem to mind.
 
If Mika isn’t embarrassed now, with his mouth stretched wide around the shaft
of his cock, draped in silky, lacy things Shu had painstakingly handcrafted
with love in every stitch, does he even have the right?
 
His cock throbs, aching no matter how recently he’d come, swelling urgently
back to life against that hot wet tongue, and he reaches down urgently, one
hand on Mika’s head to encourage, the other running over the fabric at his
chest, stroking over soft silk with frantic arousal. “You look--you’re lovely,
I’m keeping you here forever, you’re all mine, Mika, you’re so good at this...”
 
The praise goes straight to his cock, and Mika whimpers, grabbing blindly for
Shu’s hand to shove it underneath the silky fabric of his bra and to one of his
nipples. That’s just another distraction, but Mika doesn’t mind having to work
harder to swallow down around Shu’s cock, desperate to taste him, to feel the
way he thrusts into his mouth, drips over his tongue…
 
Mika’s eyes flutter when the head of Shu’s cock hits the back of his throat,
and he sucks in a sharp, ragged breath through his nose. When he pulls back,
just a little, there’s no helping the wet, hungry noises he makes with every
lick and suck and drag of his mouth over him.
 
Before this, Shu would have said that his refractory period was approximately
normal, thank you very much, and he’d need a good hour or so between rounds to
ensure maximum satisfaction. Now, his body doesn’t seem to care if he’s just
come. All it cares about is Mika slurping and groaning around the thick length,
diving down over and over again, looking eager and greedy and like there’s
nowhere in the world he’d rather be than here, and Shu’s heart aches.
“Mika...Come here, here, come up here.” He tugs insistently at Mika’s
shoulders, urging him up flush, suddenly needing to touch so much more than
what he can reach in this position.
 
It’s with great reluctance that Mika releases Shu’s cock from his mouth, and
his pouting about is all the more dramatic with a flushed face and swollen
lips. “Shuuu, you’re not playin’ fair,” he groans, even as he obediently
follows that pull, slinking up on top of him and letting his mouth attack Shu’s
neck instead. His own cock aches painfully, and it’s impossible for him not to
let it rub against Shu’s hip through his panties as Mika straddles him. “Why
won’t y’let me?” Mika sulkily asks, nipping at the curve of Shu’s shoulder. “Is
it not good?”
 
“It’s--it’s good, I promise,” Shu mutters, hands fluttering a little as they
smooth down over soft skin and fabric, self-indulgent little touches that send
ripples of pleasure through him. He rolls them, pinning Mika down, pulling back
only to gaze at the way the fabric hangs, flutters, hugs every delicious inch
of that familiar body. “I love it. I just--let me at least enjoy touching you,
if I’m going to all this trouble!”
 
Ah. Well, it’s not like Mika hates this kind of Shu, even if he really wants
Shu’s dick in his mouth again. He flops back, biting his lip and trying not to
get too grabby when Shu clearly just wants to look for a minute, though it’s
difficult, and his fingers do end up pawing helplessly at Shu’s hip. “You can
touch me as much as y’want,” he murmurs, exhaling a shaky breath through his
nose when Shu’s hands make him want to squirm. “Do you…I mean, y’can put it in,
if you want.” Shu has been acting awfully manly tonight, so maybe…
 
The idea, breathed in Mika’s soft Kansai twang, shoots through Shu like
electricity, charging every bit of him until he feels like he’s burning. His
hands wander, inaccurate but wanting, seeking, petting, squeezing, touching
every part of Mika he can reach, and he grabs Mika in a hard kiss, hoping some
of his frantic emotions will be conveyed that way. “I’ll die if you hate it,”
he whispers, hands dropping to squeeze at the sheer cloth covering Mika’s hips,
down to his thighs, the idea of Mika wanting something like that from him
making him bold.
 
Oh my god, he’s actually thinkin’ about it! Arashi has always told him how
lucky he is that Shu lets him put it in, but Mika has a sneaking suspicion that
it’s at least 80% because Shu is terrified of hurting him. Even if they only do
this once, if Shu just knows from here on out that he can, whenever he wants…
“Won’t hate it,” Mika hurries to reassure him, grabbing at Shu’s shoulders,
hauling him down for another, deep kiss that makes him groan and arch up,
squirming to squeeze his thighs around Shu’s hips. “W-whatever y’want, Shu…’s
not like I don’t think about it all th’ time…”
 
“You shouldn’t say such lewd things.” The words are almost reverent, as careful
as Shu’s hands splaying over the smooth fabric and smoother skin. The memory of
their first time and the bruise he’d left on Mika’s neck still haunt him, no
matter how Mika had claimed to like it.
 
But for once, the hunger to have, to make Mika feel as good as he always feels
when they make love drowns out the fear. If I can trust myself to be onstage
again, perhaps, just perhaps, I can trust myself to do this.
 
He kisses Mika again, deep and long, sucking on his tongue and dropping his
hands to play over Mika’s lower abdomen, down to the jut of his hips in front,
brushing over his inner thighs. One hand ghosts over the damp spot left by his
cock (obviously achingly hard), then moves down to rub over the cloth-covered
hole between his thighs, watching for any sign that Mika isn’t comfortable with
this.
 
Mika’s breath hiccups, a whine rising from his throat first when Shu brushes
over his cock, then lower, where he can’t help but dig his heels into the bed
and wriggle down, his cock throbbing the second he presses down against Shu’s
hand. His own fingers twitch to grab Shu’s, to coax him (or really, make him)
to yank his panties off and touch him properly already, but instead he digs his
nails into Shu’s shoulders as his thighs spread, desperate and welcoming.
Dressed like this, he feels like a prize that Shu has won, dressed up to his
exacting preferences, and god, if he can’t convince Shu that it’s okay for that
to be the case, Mika doesn’t know what he’ll do.
 
“You’re mine, aren’t you?”
 
Shu’s fingers are always accurate, always precise, and this is no different.
They delve inside the lovely lace he’d so perfectly crafted, and he gasps at
the feel of the tight hole against the pads of his fingers. The touch is so
intense he buries his face in Mika’s shoulder, groaning in anticipation. “I’ve
wanted you this way for so long,” he confesses, more honest when Mika can’t see
his face.
 
The breath that escapes through Mika’s nose is long and shaky, and he clutches
at Shu’s shoulders, squeezing and kneading as he spreads his legs, trying,
hoping it comes off as eager as he feels. “Yours, I’m yours,” he hoarsely
agrees, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to keep himself under control,
tries not to already lose himself when just being touched that much by
Shu’s perfect, long fingers, even if they aren’t inside yet… “S-Shu…Shu, here.”
Mika’s hand swings out automatically, snatching up the tube of lotion that’s a
mainstay by the bed now, shoving it against Shu’s chest. “Please, please, I’ve
thought about doin’ this soo many times, y’gotta…”
 
Shu spills a little of the lotion--stupid, get it together, he’ll never like it
if you’re sloppy garbage!--but gets most of it on his fingers, pulling the
fabric to the side and rubbing slowly over the hole. In his eagerness, one of
the fingers slips inside, and he lets out a groan at the tight heat, squeezing
down on the digits. “Tell me if you hate it, I’ll get better at this, I’ll make
it perfect, just let me keep touching you...”
 
His mouth works over Mika’s mouth, then his ear, sucking the lobe between his
teeth, rubbing his cock against one firm thigh.
 
Just that one finger sinking inside makes Mika groan—too low, too husky to
match the lingerie he’s wearing, probably, and so he clamps a hand over his own
mouth, huffing out hot, moist breaths into his palm. He wriggles down, his eyes
fluttering when it slides in deeper, as long and perfect as every stupid
fantasy had ever warned him it would be, and his cock drips profusely, the way
the swollen, slick tip rubs against his panties enough to make Mika’s eyes
cross. “Shu…S-Shu,” he breathes, fumbling to grab at Shu’s wrist. “Put another
one in, god, feels good…”
 
“You can be loud.” The words make him blush, and Shu rubs harder against Mika’s
thigh, a second finger sliding in, feeling the stretch of that tight hole.
“I...I like hearing the noises you make.”
 
The word is less like and more crave, and Shu probably thrusts in too fast,
curling and stroking at first, then losing control and just plunging in, hungry
to feel more, more, to touch and feel and play Mika’s body like the perfect
puppet he’d always tried to build. “Do you like it? You do, right? It feels
good? It doesn’t hurt?”
 
It’s a really good thing that Shu tells him it’s okay to be loud, because
there’s no helping it. Mika chokes on his next breath, the rasping, desperate
cry that escapes not anywhere near the pretty sounds he wishes he could be
making, but god… “R-really good,” he manages to say. “Shu, I…”
 
The way Shu’s fingers press inside of him, long and deep and thorough, make
every muscle in Mika’s legs bunch up and tremble, and he digs his heels into
the bed, arching up with a ragged gasp. He clings to Shu’s upper arms, nails
scratching there desperately as he rocks down into those fingers, eager to
repeat the way it feels when Shu curls them in that one, particular way. It’s a
mistake—sort of, if he can call it that when it feels so damn good—because that
sends a startling jolt of pleasure up through his spine, and Mika chokes down a
scream when his cock desperately throbs, a hard, aching pulse the last thing he
remembers before he comes in spite of how hard he tries not to. “S-sorry,
sorry, fuck, Shuuu…” Mika groans, sagging down into the bed as he throws an arm
over his face, flushed and sweaty and trembling, his hips still rocking down
helplessly. “Pleeease keep goin’…”
 
Shu huffs half a laugh into Mika’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze
through the tremors. He stills his hand, but doesn’t slide it out, pulling back
far enough to rest his forehead against Mika’s. “We’ve both been doing that
tonight, hmm? It’s fine if you want to stop, honestly--”
 
It would make more sense to him--it always makes more sense to him to get Mika
off with his hands, the most perfect part of his body, the part he controls and
understands and trusts not to hurt the thing most important to him.
 
Even as shaky and out of breath as he is, Mika growls, low and hungry and
frustrated, and grabs with shocking accuracy for Shu’s cock even though his
eyes are closed. “Fuck me,” he demands as his fingers curl around it and he
drags Shu forward by it, “or I’m gonna flip you over and get on it myself.”
 
Shu sputters, thighs trembling when Mika grabs at him, knees slipping out from
under him for a moment. “Honestly, Mika, have a little dignity! I can’t--I just
wanted--oh, fine.”
 
He surges up, pinning Mika’s wrist to the bed with one hand, pulling out his
other and guiding his cock to that slick hole. It catches on the rim, and he
can’t help the way his hips thrust forward, burying himself inside a few hasty
centimeters before he gets himself under control. “S-sorry, is it--did I hurt
you, are you--?”
 
The breathless groan that leaves Mika’s throat says it all—or it should say it
all, especially when all he can think of doing is grinding down, no matter how
his body clenches down around Shu’s cock like he’s never going to let it go.
More than fingers, sure, but that’s not a bad thing, and it takes his breath
away. “K-keep goin’,” Mika gasps, his fingers flexing into his own palm,
squirming for a better position to keep his legs around Shu’s waist, no matter
how they shake when he tries to close them. “’s good…god…Shu, you’re so…”
 
Something deep inside Shu tells him that he shouldn’t like this so much,
shouldn’t take so much pleasure in something he’s taking from Mika. It’s like
those brutes who had enjoyed knocking his dolls out of his hands as a kid, the
ones who liked pushing him into the mud--or is it?
 
From the way Mika is writhing, grabbing at him and shoving down, it doesn’t
feel like that at all. Maybe, just maybe, it’s all right to take pleasure in
this, to let Mika make him feel good in this way for once. I don’t deserve
this, he wants to say, but all that comes out is a whimper as he shoves in
harder, burying himself in that tight heat. “It feels good, doesn’t it, Mika?
You love this? I--the way you feel, I--”
 
A startled, pleased yelp escapes Mika’s throat when Shu shoves in deeper, and
his thighs squeeze tight and trembly around Shu’s waist, his hands immediately
reaching down to grab the curve of Shu’s ass and haul him in hard. “So good,”
he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches down around Shu’s cock,
rocking down hungrily into every single thrust of Shu’s hips. His head lolls
back, his nails raking up Shu’s back to bury into his hair and drag his mouth
to his neck. With every arch of his back, his cock rubs against both silky
lingerie and Shu’s stomach, achingly hard again and slowly leaking. “Shuuu…Shu,
’s perfect, love you, please, please…”
 
Mika’s always good about reassuring him, even if Shu doesn’t know it’s what he
needs at the time. He gasps, hungry, attempting to keep himself in check--
trying--failing--
 
His hips snap in hard, starting a rough, eager rhythm, mindlessly seeking after
that pleasure, the friction driving him to grab and cling to Mika’s hips,
yanking him down with every urgent thrust. His fingers squeeze and release,
some mental override every time he grips hard enough to leave a bruise, wanting
to take, wanting desperately not to hurt, more than anything wanting to be
with.
 
It helps that Mika is grabbing at him too, and he licks and sucks at the sweat-
slick skin of his neck, whimpering every time he feels Mika shiver and shudder
around his cock. Hold on, Itsuki Shu, he tells himself in a voice that sounds
nothing at all like Mademoiselle, for once. Take care of him, make him love it,
delay gratification until he’s screaming your name, be fucking worth something
for once in your life!
 
Mika’s mind clicks off. On autopilot, every single grind and roll of his hips
is desperate, riding down onto Shu’s cock to meet every single thrust of his
hips. It’s as perfect, as in-time as any dance they’ve slaved away at for
weeks--but god, does it feel even better. His nails claw lines down Shu’s back,
leaving red streaks in their wake, and the noises Shu makes against his neck
just make Mika tremble and squirm down more. “Shu,” he gasps, and his voice
breaks, breathy and rough. “Shu--”
 
One, mindless arch of his back later, his cock rubbing up against silk and
Shu’s stomach, Mika comes with a strangled cry, losing himself between them. It
feels like every single muscle in his legs cramp, and his toes bend into the
bed, his thighs quivering and taut against Shu’s sides, hot, wet breaths
puffing out against Shu’s ear every single time he squeezes down on Shu’s cock
no matter how he tries to stop and calm down. He can’t, he just can’t.
 
Hearing his name like that is all it takes for Shu to lose control completely.
He half-screams, some garbled mess of a word that could be anything and ends in
a sob against Mika’s skin, the pain from the scratches on his back spiking him
over the edge. His hips rut in deep, burying his cock in as far as it’ll go,
coarse hairs nestled against Mika’s skin, holding him as close as he can
physically get without melding completely.
 
He sags, the orgasm making him feel wrecked, as if someone has ripped out his
spine and replaced it with pudding, like a puppet whose strings have been
severed. Another sob tears through his chest, and he bites down softly on
Mika’s shoulder, trying to stop himself from crying again. Once after sex was
enough, even if his body seems to disagree. “Just--one second--”
 
“‘s fine, ‘s fine, Shu...” The words are hoarse, shaky and a little wet
themselves when Mika pets a hand uselessly down Shu’s back, up into his hair.
His nerves feel singed, every muscle twanging, and Mika sniffs, blinking hard
to keep a mix of tears and sweat out of his eyes. “I...mm, that was so good,”
he mumbles, shifting languidly underneath him, and grimacing at the achy, sore
stickiness that seems to be melding them together. “Thank you.” I know that
took a lot, sorry I had to kinda bully you into it...but not really!
 
“Feels wrong,” Shu murmurs, wiping carefully at Mika’s face, brushing away his
tears with the pad of his thumb. “That something should feel so good without
being harmful, somehow. I...”
 
The things that feel good are winning, conquering, achieving, and they only
come about through hard work and pain for months, culminating in more of it
when he’s done and preparing for the next brutal triumph. He’s never had a good
feeling in his life that didn’t come from toil...
 
Except with Mika.
 
“It’s got to be fattening. That’s what it must be,” he teases gently, resting
his forehead against Mika’s.
 
“Y’think so?” Mika laughs, butting his head gently up against Shu’s. His
fingers tip-toe their way down Shu’s back before settling right back onto the
curve of his ass, contently kneading. “I don’t think it’s bad, though. It feels
real good to me. Nn, Shu, y’have such a nice dick,” he mutters, squirming,
wriggling down a little bit even if it makes him wince. Everything is sticky,
and his lingerie is starting to chafe, but oh well. It’s worth it. “Should use
it more, y’know?”
 
Shu grimaces, pulling a face at Mika when he pulls out. “Insolent, and very
rude. I don’t think most men would complain about what I let you do to me, do
you?”
 
Mika whines out a complaint, kicking out a leg grumpily. “Ain’t complainin’,
just sayin’,” he huffs, making a face at how slick he feels inside. “This is
good, too. Not gonna stop doin’ the other stuff, but you gotta do this
sometime.”
 
“Fine, fine. I suppose I can indulge you on occasion without ruining you.” Shu
leans to the side, grabbing for a soft cotton handkerchief, brushing gently
between Mika’s thighs to clean up his mess. His voice is as gentle as he can
manage as he says, “I was quite sore, the first time. Don’t feel as if I’ll
panic if you are, too.”
 
Mika hopes the sigh of relief he heaves isn’t too loud at that. “Ahh, good. I
was worried y’might be. Heh, does that mean you’re not gonna be mad about these
either?” he hums, lifting a hand to gingerly poke and rub at the bruises he can
feel forming darkly all over his neck. “Hope not, ‘cuz we’re even. I got your
back real good.”
 
“Like bedding with a wild cat,” Shu mutters, but his cheeks tinge pink, and a
little smile plays on his lips. “You shouldn’t act like it’s such a crime that
I don’t want to hurt you, Mika. It makes me terrified that I’ll die and you’ll
wind up with someone else that won’t treat you well.”
 
“I don’t think it’s a crime,” Mika defends, grabbing for Shu’s arm to haul him
back down for cuddling purposes, at least until he can’t stand being wrapped up
in silk and lace any longer. “I jus’...I dunno, I think it’s hot, when you mark
me up. Then everyone can know I’m yours, and they won’t touch me.”
 
“They won’t. I’ll stop them.” Shu isn’t sure of many things about himself, but
he’s at least sure of that much. “No one is allowed to touch you. You have to
understand that. You belong to me.” Haven’t I done enough to say that, at
least?
 
“Mm, I do.” The words send an elated shiver down Mika’s spine, and he snuggles
up close, content to stick to Shu with drying sweat and other unmentionables.
“And you’re mine, Oshi-san.”
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