Theme: #49 – Ugly
Warnings: Humor, sexual content.
Pairing: Miyavi (solo, S.K.I.N.)/Reita (the GazettE)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: He didn’t like the outfit, either. But he had to hold onto whatever dignity he had remaining today, pink panties be damned.
Comments: This fic has nothing to do with actual roadkill. XD It’s just something cute and silly, and I wrote it because coiled_iris and a particular (somewhat recent) photoshoot inspired me to do so *steals Iris’ link XD*. And oh, Iris wanted more of seme/dom!Reita… so… yeah. Not explicit smut, but that’ll come with my next Reita x Miyavi x Aoi. Hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing!
Miyavi heaved a sigh as he entered his and Reita’s shared apartment—home sweet home, at last. It had felt like he had been gone for a week, when in reality, he had only been gone for a few hours.
Today had been one of those days he had simply wished hadn’t happened. Not because the scheduled photoshoot had gone badly, exactly… but because when he had requested something ‘new and unique’, the outfit he was currently wearing had not been what he had had in mind. It was new and unique all right, but not in the way that he had planned.
When asked if he liked it, he had put on his best smile and nodded, because he hadn’t wanted to offend the stylists and because he hadn’t wanted to cause trouble of any sort. All the while, he had been acutely aware that he had not signed a death warrant, but he felt like he had perhaps sighed something distantly related to said death warrant.
It was typical of him to wear loud clothing… but this? This was beyond loud. This was a-hundred-piece-marching-band loud. Or maybe surround-sound-turned-up-to-max-volume loud. Or even louder.
It was also typical of him to keep outfits that he wore in PVs and photoshoots and to keep outfits that his fans sent him, because doing so meant that he didn’t have to go out and buy new clothing ten thousand times a year.
It was not typical of him to shove clothes to the back of the closet or hide them under the bed or ‘accidentally’ put them in the dryer and shrink them or somehow misplace them so that they wound up at a department store nearby.
He already knew that as soon as he was scheduled for another photoshoot (with a different and hopefully much better outfit), the louder-than-a-hundred-piece-marching-ban
“Rei,” he called wearily, his voice no doubt conveying not just his state of exhaustion but also his slight annoyance, “I’m home.” He closed the door and set his guitar case down, and then he removed his cap and tossed it on the closest solid surface (a dresser near the door) and briefly contemplated making a run for the bedroom and changing his clothes so Reita wouldn’t see what he was currently wearing… but he’d see soon enough anyway, so there really was no point, was there?
“I’m in here baby,” Reita replied, his voice issuing from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.
Heaving a sigh, Miyavi went into the kitchen to find Reita sitting at the table, his back turned to him. Near his right arm was a plate of cookies, and Miyavi moved to sit down beside him, helping himself to one of the cookies.
“Bad day?” Reita asked as he turned to look at Miyavi, adoration and sympathy shining in his eyes—that is, until he took in Miyavi’s clothes. “Woah,” he said, wide-eyed. “Give me a little warning next time you decide to wear something like that, baby. It’ll give me time to shield my eyes… put on my sunglasses, or something.” He grinned then and leaned over to press a kiss to Miyavi’s cheek. “I take it that this is what you wore for the photoshoot?”
Miyavi knew that his blonde lover was only joking—trying to lighten the mood and make him smile. In any other situation, it would have worked. Today, Miyavi did not feel like smiling at jokes about his loud clothing, especially when it came to this particular outfit, he could make his own jokes (and not smile at those, either). He knew that the explosion of animal prints was not pretty, and would probably cause damage to one’s eyes, if one looked at the shirt and the pants and the – shudder - panties long enough.
He didn’t like the outfit, either. But he had to hold onto whatever dignity he had remaining today, pink panties be damned. He didn’t have to put up with his lover’s laughter at his expense (no matter how good Reita’s intentions were).
“Yes,” he finally huffed, glaring daggers at the bassist. “And just what is wrong with my clothes, might I ask?”
Seemingly unaffected by Miyavi’s glare, Reita grinned even wider. “Nothing, if you like wearing horribly-dyed roadkill, I suppose. He placed the back of his hand on his forehead and tilted his head back in an over-dramatic gesture. “That poor zebra! That poor cheetah!” He paused as he glanced down at Miyavi’s pants. “Or leopard… I’m not entirely sure what that is. And are those… suspenders?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Miyavi grumbled, looking away from Reita. “Laugh it up. I couldn’t have very well said ‘hell no, I’m not wearing that’, now, could I?”
For several seconds, Reita was silent. Then he leaned over, nuzzling at Miyavi’s neck. “Aw, baby. It’s not that bad, really.” He pulled back slightly. “So… it’s a very loud animal print outfit, and there’s suspenders. And… oh my god. Are those pink panties?!”
So much for Miyavi preserving whatever remained of his dignity. He was certain that it had committed suicide, to preserve its own dignity. Ha. Was it possible for dignity to have dignity? “Shut up,” he stated flatly.
He was sure that Reita was trying hard to say something, but it just wasn’t possible to understand someone very well when that someone happened to be busy laughing like a hyena.
Miyavi rolled his eyes and reached for another cookie. “Talk to me when you’re done laughing your ass off.”
Minutes ticked by, and eventually, Reita’s laughter quieted. “I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound very apologetic at all, in Miyavi’s opinion.
Miyavi merely ‘hmpfed’, and slid down in his chair a little, still refusing to look at Reita. “I think I’ll go change now.”
Before he could get up from his seat, however, Reita stopped him. “Don’t,” Reita said softly, leaning closer. “I have an idea.”
Unimpressed (but not uninterested), Miyavi blinked at Reita. “And that would be?”
Reita smiled again, but this time, it was not out of amusement. Miyavi was very familiar with that smile, and he knew exactly what it meant, too. Uh-oh. “Do you know where I think those clothes would look good?”
Even though Miyavi was tired and his dignity had been reduced to zilch and Reita had laughed at him and he knew his body shouldn’t have been reacting to Reita’s smile (or the look in his eyes or the sound of his voice), but he couldn’t help himself. He grudgingly asked, “Where?”
“On the floor,” Reita replied, his voice dipping even lower as he leaned in, brushing his lips against Miyavi’s ear as he spoke. “I think they’d look wonderful on the floor.”
It never failed to amaze Miyavi how Reita could say things that would sound utterly over-done and ridiculous coming from anyone else, and yet, from him... everything he said when he got like this was undeniably erotic. He could have been reading off instructions on how to properly build a cabinet for the bathroom, and it would have been sexual.
Barely suppressing a shiver and trying his best to not let his voice show that Reita was indeed affecting him, Miyavi said: “Is that your pitiful attempt at trying to get me horny and naked just so I won’t be upset with you for picking on me?”
“No.” Reita nipped lightly at his ear, and then began kissing his way down his neck. “Because I can do so much better than just that, and you and I both know it.” Miyavi felt Reita’s hand, then—felt clever, calloused fingers dipping beneath the waistband of the pink panties.
Miyavi gasped softly despite his attempts to not do so. He couldn’t stay mad at Reita, ever… especially over something as silly as clothing. But he wasn’t supposed to be horny right now, damnit. Not after a day like he’d just had. His body had other plans, though, and he arched into Reita’s teasing touch, eyes sliding shut as waves of heat moved through him, heading south. “I know.”
Reita pressed his lips to one side of Miyavi’s jaw. “Then why don’t you let me show you?” he persuaded as he shifted in his chair and slid his hand further down, fingers lightly stroking the place where his leg and pelvis met.
Miyavi spread his legs a little wider and bit down on his bottom lip. “You really are determined to get me all flustered and incomprehensible, aren’t you?”
He felt Reita smile against his skin. “Is it working?”
“Yes,” he answered, albeit unwillingly.
“Good.” Then, Reita’s lips were all but crushed against his own, tongue demanding entrance, and all Miyavi could do was grant Reita what he sought. The kiss was heated and nearly frantic, a contrast to the almost lazy movements of Reita’s fingers on his skin. When they broke apart, they were both panting.
They stared at each other, and Miyavi licked his lips, tasting Reita there.
“Well?” Reita practically purred, and then his hand moved even lower, fingers brushing against Miyavi’s already fully-erect cock.
As if there was any hope of telling him to stop. “Fuck me,” Miyavi growled, grabbing the front of the blonde’s shirt and dragging him in for another kiss.
Miyavi wound up sitting on the edge of the table, now completely naked, legs spread wide. In their hurry, they had knocked the cookies off the table, and Miyavi had made Reita promise to go buy more.
Arms wrapped around Reita, fingers clutching at his shirt as the bassist fucked him in harsh, fast thrusts, Miyavi gazed at the clothing that they had strewn on the floor, his eyes heavy-lidded, only half-open.
He had to admit that Reita had been right: those clothes actually did look much better on the floor.
This was ridiculously fun to write. XD Cocky I-Know-What-I-Want-and-I-Know-What-You-W
Aww. I'm sure Miyavi will make it up to him. :3
This is my first attempt at writing anything genuinely funny since... wow. Since all those Ruki x Kai fics. ^^; DID I FAIL???? :O