Author's Note: Spoilers for the Utena series. Akio and Anthy, so if canon makes you squeamish, better just turn around and leave now. Otherwise it's just a mild fic.
"Do you want to see something tonight?"
"Nothing good is playing."
When he's on his back, his hair spills out like cordon ropes.
People might imagine that it was the reverse. Himself always on top, Herself always beneath, like some overdone overwrought overexaggerated repetition of a cheap play. Pay your ticket and fumble in your pocket for change and it's the same jaded soundtrack playing when you walk into the theater, the same dull thump-thump-thump of the previews bass like bedposts meeting the wall again and again.
Maybe that's why she enjoys the straddling position so much; what's between her thighs isn't what's doing the victimizing, but instead being consumed in some wet fleshy mess of what breathy voiceovers would paraphrase as the power of femininity. Akio would think to himself--and think often--of how he'd only support the arguement if it meant all women had teeth where it counted, which meant having them all over. He might even start to mention something about it in a belated you-know-they-say, but then she'd glance down and hips would tilt up and he'd forget entirely what he'd been meaning to sneer.
Afterwards when the stars above them both had melted away into mere pinpoints of light from being stared at too long--children running back into the corners after realizing the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes turned heaven-wards--then Akio would think dully about how much to have the carpet cleaned this time.
Until then, the floor only existed as cheap fabric seats that could shift back so far that the person on your lap became the person on your hips became the person on your chest when they leaned down with cat-paw fingers kneading at your buttons.
Akio had started trying to take preventative measures by ordering her to disrobe first, stand like a gallows-witch shamed before him with garlands of hair playing at false modesty, but the sight only sickened him in the end anyway. He kept at it in hopes that one day would find the magic they'd both lost again. Looking at her naked never brought it back but it made his fingers violent and he figured that was good enough for the time being.
Had to walk before you crawled.
The floor smells like dust and footsteps, must-rot around the edges from a room meant to house a dozen easy and instead keeping one He, one Her, and their occasional visitors. In places just like the one by his nose, it reeks of old sweat. He's not sure which one of them it belongs to, but it doesn't matter at this point, and it never mattered anyway.
The air is more honeyed than usual. Someone--probably that cheap-haired Utena girl with a smile like rancid sugar--had thought to celebrate the holidays and had given him a batch of caramel corn. It had arrived wrapped in a wide red ribbon. Akio had tried to come up with a half-hearted taunt to Anthy in use of the thing, had talked about bondage in the same disinterested voice of an aging porn star, but then he'd thrown it on the floor and discovered it grinding into his spine much later.
Anthy's reaching over him for the popcorn dish. Her breast in his face makes him want to bite it.
The stars above have worn down to their ending credits and are promising a repeat showing in twelve hours if he wants to wait that long. Instead he grunts, reaches up to push Anthy away, and sits up. The lights come on.
"Changed your mind?"
"They're all happy endings anyway."