Title: Difficult Exchange
Author: Hawk Clowd
Disclaimer: You all know the drill. I own nothing, I want nothing, and I'm more than content to write fan fiction for the rest of my days.
Blood Type: Salt water.
Author's Notes: The Neme was a great deal of help with this story. Not only did she supply a few lines when I got stuck, but she also did a quick edit, gave me an opinion, and kept me entertained when I was about ready to chew off my own arm. Oh, and she taught me how to play 'Super Monkey Ball', which is such an odd game that it's hard not to love it! In other news, I hate the curesearch commercials.
Eiri frowned and ran his thumb over Shuichi's cheek, just below the singer's eye. "Why do you always have to do that?" he asked. His voice was harsher than he'd intended it to be, but Shuichi did not seem to notice.
The singer sniffed, pulled away from Eiri, and then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Because it hurts," he complained. He glared at the bed sheets fisted in his hand through misted eyes. "You try it. That's an out hole, not an in hole, and it hurts."
"It can't..." Eiri sighed and then frowned. All right. Eiri understood pain, and he knew that sex, especially for people in their sort of relationship, could be a painful ordeal. He simply didn't think it was anything to cry over, that was all. "You can always ask me to stop," he pointed out.
"Nuh-uh," Shuichi argued, frowning and pulling the sheet up to his chin. "You don't stop when I tell you to stop."
"You don't ask me to stop," Eiri pointed out exasperatedly. "If you actually asked me to stop, I would."
"You would not."
"Yes, I would," Eiri said through gritted teeth.
Shuichi squirmed. "Maybe I don't want you to stop."
"Then why are we talking whether or not I would stop when you asked?"
Eiri fumed silently.
Shuichi pulled the sheet up to his nose so that only his eyes and the top of his head peeked out. "Are you mad at me?"
The writer thought a moment, more to make Shuichi uneasy than because he actually had to consider it. "No," he said with a small sigh. "I'm not."
"I do wish you'd stop crying every time we do this, however."
Shuichi pulled the sheet down so that he could pout pointedly at Eiri. "I can't help it!" he protested. "You can't help being a horny jerk and I can't help the fact that it hurts."
"I am not a horny jerk."
Eiri decided that the argument wasn't worth his time and let the subject drop. "Fine. But I still think you're being stupid, crying over stupid shit."
"It's not stupid! It really hurts!"
Shuichi sputtered. "If I'm a baby, then you... You're a pedophile."
"I am not."
"Strictly speaking, pedophilia is classified as one who gets off on pre-pubescent children. You are far more pubescent than not."
Shuichi scowled. "Am not."
Eiri quirked an eyebrow. "Do you even know what you're saying?"
"I didn't think so."
The singer muttered something under his breath and pulled the bed sheet back up and over his head. The mattress shifted as Shuichi picked himself up and then threw himself onto his stomach.
Eiri rolled his eyes, straightened the sheet so there were not as many wrinkles, and then proceeded to run his hand down Shuichi's spine.
"It's a stupid thing to cry over."
There was a murmur from beneath the sheet, but Eiri did not quite catch it. He was certain, however, that it was another protest.
"You don't see me crying over anything as pathetic as a little pain, do you?"
Shuichi whapped blindly at Eiri and missed. "You're not the one who has to bend all over the place and then gets rammed up the -"
"I get the picture," Eiri interrupted, laying his hand flat on Shuichi's back. "In any case, there isn't a whole lot I can do to make it hurt any less. I already use obscene amounts of lubrication as it is."
Shuichi mumbled something that Eiri did not quite catch.
"That's not the point, anyway." Eiri curled his fingers and then stretched them out again. "Isn't there any way I can get you to stop crying when we fuck?"
"When we make love," Shuichi corrected.
"When we fuck," Eiri repeated.
Shuichi was quiet.
"Well? Is there?"
The singer shrugged.
Eiri frowned. "That's not an answer, stupid," he remarked scathingly.
"Well I don't know, Yuki!" Shuichi cried, throwing the sheet aside and pushing himself around and up into a sitting position. "I don't exactly have a lot of experience with this sort of thing!"
"All right, all right! Calm down," Eiri scolded.
"I don't see what the big deal is anyway," Shuichi muttered. "It's not like I don't enjoy it or nothing just because I cry. So who cares."
"I do," Eiri snapped before he could stop himself.
Shuichi sat up and stared at him.
Argh. Eiri sighed and rubbed his forehead tentatively. He could feel a headache coming on but did not want to get up to retrieve an aspirin.
"I don't like seeing you cry," Eiri muttered by way of explanation.
Shuichi gaped for a moment and then shook his head in disbelief. "You're so weird."
"I am not."
"You are." Shuichi argued, pulling Eiri closer to him. "Anyway, they aren't really tears, so I'm not really crying. It's not really crying unless they're really real tears."
They had looked suspiciously like real tears to Eiri, but he didn't argue.
"Anyway," Shuichi went on, "it's not really your fault your dick is monstrously huge."
Eiri quirked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" He wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a hit and wasn't entirely positive he wanted to know one way or the other.
Shuichi giggled. "You heard me."
"Is that so" Eiri asked. "Well, I suppose it's not really your fault that you have the anus of an infant," he zinged.
A blush touched Shuichi's cheeks. "Yuki! I do not!"
Eiri smirked triumphantly and then settled down onto the bed. "Just go to sleep."
Shuichi pouted but lay down again without further protest. "You're such a jerk."
Eiri pretended to snore, and the conversation ended there.