Title: One With Everything
Summary: A hopeless fanboy, a horny rock star. You do the math.
It had all started with a joke. No, correction, it had all started with Sakuma Ryuichi eating a hot dog, probably the single most erotic act that Uesugi Tatsuha had witnessed in his entire short life. The black-haired teen rolled over and smiled at the older man asleep next to him, the boy's dark eyes raking over the other man's sculpted chest, which was now partially obscured by Kumagoro, the rock star's ever-present plush pink bunny. Tatsuha couldn't believe how incredibly cute Ryuichi looked, cradling the toy in his sleep.
Tatsuha had begged his brother-in-law, the impresario and musician Seguchi Tohma, to bring him along to the Nittle Grasper record release party, if only so that the teen could stand in the same room, at the same time, with his idol, Nittle Grasper's lead vocalist, Sakuma Ryuichi. And yet, when that precise moment had happened, Tatsuha hadn't known what to say. So he had just stood there, tongue-tied, mouth agape, watching his god, the subject of countless wet dreams, devouring the common pink sausage, while the young man tried his damnedest not to ponder all the double entendres and innuendos that that single mundane deed stirred in his mind. But he was, after all, a teenager, his raging hormones, accompanied by a hard on that literally ached, reminded him. Tatsuha imagined that a butler would be by sometime soon to inobstrusively mop his drool from the floor before someone slipped in it.
"You must be Tohma-kun's brother-in-law, so ka? Little Tatsuha, only you aren't little at all." Wide eyes peered imploringly into the teen's obsidian orbs.
Tatsuha shook his body out of its torpor. When had Ryuichi actually finished eating the hot dog? And more importantly, how had the diminutive brunet managed to sneak up on him? He nodded his head dumbly in response, before, in a stroke of genius, he pulled the older man close to whisper conspiratorially into his ear. "What did the Buddhist priest say to the hot dog vendor?"
The brunet pulled away, his brow knit in confusion. "Well, you're a priest, or at least a priest-in-training, so wouldn't you already know that?"
Tatsuha grinned at the innocent response, and then leaned closer, ready to feed the brunet the punch line, only to have Ryuichi cut him off.
"Oh I get it! Tatsuha you are so cute, I could …" Ryuichi's eyes darkened pensively, before he finished his statement, his voice an octave lower. "Just kiss you." He looked over the teen appraisingly, and Tatsuha got the distinct impression that he was being judged like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop.
But then the brunet waved his hands in the air and craned his neck around the teen searchingly. "Ah, but you must have some young girlfriend, or two, waiting for you. I'm sure you don't want to hang out with an old man like me."
"No!" Tatsuha replied hurriedly, "I came here alone, well, actually, I came here with Tohma and Mika, but they've kind of left me to my own devices." He glanced about, looking for his sister and her husband, satisfied that their apparent absence backed up his claim.
"So then you don't mind keeping me company?" Ryuichi asked coyly. "I'm really tired of making nice with all these sycophants, they get on my nerves after a while."
"Sure!" Tatsuha couldn't believe his ears, or his good fortune.
"In my room?" the slender brunet added, his breath a whisper across the teen's cheek. Tatsuha thought that he would come right then and there. His body shivered involuntarily when an elegant hand cupped his cheek. "I've seen the way you've been looking at me," the older man continued, his hands now tousling the teen's ebony locks, "and I have to admit, I'm a bit intrigued to see if you really have all that experience that Tohma likes to brag about," he added, referring to the teen's reputation as a lothario. "Are you up to the challenge?" An artful thumb enticingly caressed Tatsuha's lower lip, as the teen wordlessly nodded his head.
He didn't remember much after that, until they'd managed to close the door to Ryuichi's suite behind them. There was the blur of sneaking out of the reception hall to the elevator bank, where, once inside a car, Ryuichi's hands were all over Tatsuha's body, first working loose the slim black tie he'd worn, and then deftly undoing the top three buttons of the teen's purple dress shirt. At the same time, the rock star's pink tongue was skating along Tatsuha's lower lip, demanding entrance, and once admitted, thoroughly and leisurely exploring the teen's mouth as if he owned it. Well, as a matter of fact, he did.
The sex though, that was something else altogether—athletic, erotic, playful—and most importantly, unforgettable, Tatsuha thought, as he gazed out of the floor to ceiling windows at the Tokyo skyline illuminating the ink-black sky. Mind-blowing, too—Sakuma Ryuichi was beyond experienced, the brunet was sex incarnate, and light-years ahead of Tatsuha in his encyclopedic knowledge of carnal pleasure—but the teen's stamina had proven to be quite impressive. Tatsuha had lost count of how many times they'd fucked after number four, which had been on the floor next to the bed (where they'd fallen in the midst of number three). He believed that there might have been two or three more after that, including the last one (soapy and pressed against the tiles of the double shower), but by then, they'd both been literally screwed senseless.
Not that that necessarily was a bad thing.
Tatsuha turned his attention again to his sleeping idol, only to find Ryuichi's deep blue eyes gazing searchingly at him. After a few moments regarding the teen, the older man spoke, smiling. "So, Tatsuha-kun, can you make me one with everything?"