By – Hime no Ichigo
Rating: R (non-explicit!)
Story Type: One-shot
Summary: "Change into those," he commanded. "Here?" "Here."
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine...
Spoilers: None, AU, yo.
Warnings/Notes: One of my 'dirtier' works. (pokes it) At least the boys will appreciate it...I think. (smirks)
Oh yeah, italicized phrases/words are considered as Atemu's personal thoughts, although this is done in third person POV, but it's not that big of a deal, it only really appears at the end. Have some fun with this!
The hall was dark.
Yet it wasn't.
Not completely, anyway.
It was also alight with colourful and strobe lights and the insistent clicking of camera flashes. The beat was loud and bass-like, much similar to the ones at a club.
But this place was anything but a club.
There were applause and nods, cat-calls and whistles, and appreciative and suggestive looks. The ones on stage paid no attention to these, focussing intently on why they were up on stage in the first place. Their faces betrayed no emotion; no smiles at compliments, no frowns at critical looks, no acknowledgements of the ones down the stage.
One by one they walked the length, then behind the walls that hid them from the audience, and into the safety of backstage.
The night was far from over yet.
"There!" She grinned triumphantly, drawing back and admiring her handiwork. "Ooh Atemu-kun, you look absolutely gorgeous and ravishing, I'm sure the crowd will love you!" She gave him a wink and saw his face twist into something akin to disgust, in the mirror image.
"For the record, I'm ta—"
"Ah, Sai-chan," her ears perked up at the sound of her nickname, the voice ever familiar.
"Yuugi-kun!" She turned around fully to greet him. "Dropping by so soon?"
"Just checking up on my favourite make-up artist," he smiled at her, a little predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Sure, like that's the only reason," she snorted, replacing her accessories. "Since you're here now, I guess I'll be taking my leave. Good luck, Atemu-kun." She nudged and winked at him again, before giving into her temptation of ruffling Yuugi's hair on her way out.
"Sai-chan, that'll cost you a drink!"
"Call me!" She shouted back over the rustles of clothes in the room and gave a thumbs-up above the sea of heads.
Yuugi narrowed his eyes before turning his attention back to the one seated in front of the mirror. "Atemu." It wasn't a question.
He nodded, not quite sure of what to say.
"Well, well..." Yuugi was appraising him by his mirror image, a hand sliding from a muscular shoulder down an equally masculine arm. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me... This outfit won't do."
"But they have already taken all the other ones," Atemu replied, skin tingling from the feather-light touches.
"No they haven't," Yuugi insisted calmly, placing his head on Atemu's shoulder. His violet eyes danced under the dressing table lights, as the other looked into the mirror and met his gaze there. "Come on now," he coaxed, his left hand on top of Atemu's.
He arose slowly, as though unsure, but Yuugi was adamant. They ignored the people in the room, who were busy flitting from table to table, nervously smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on their clothes; they ignored the cheers from outside, indicating success and approval; they ignored the sudden hush in the room as the organizer began arranging the next set of models for the catwalk.
Slipping into the backroom where clothing hung from racks and racks, Yuugi carefully manoeuvred their way around without disturbing anything. Atemu followed quietly, tracing the other's footsteps, squinting all the while under dim lighting.
"Here," Yuugi said suddenly. Atemu felt something hit his face. Among the softness of the material there were hard things poking at him. "Change into those."
"Here?" He asked, a little alarmed at the request.
"Here." There was faint amusement in his voice. "Unless you're uncomfortable...?"
He wanted to shake his head, he wasn't embarrassed—he really wasn't!—but he nodded in the end, and Yuugi shoved him playfully into the change-room he didn't know existed until now.
"Now hurry up."
"I think there's a problem with this."
"Why would there be any problems?" Yuugi asked dryly, irritated. He had made this especially for him, and here he was, complaining.
He snorted and yanked open the door, ignoring the squeak of surprise Atemu gave, and closed it behind him, careful to not let his anger reflect in a loud bang which could attract unwanted attention. "What's wrong with it?" He demanded, crossing his arms, glowering.
"It's, um..." He fiddled with the garment, unsure how to phrase it properly.
"...I don't know," he finally sighed, avoiding Yuugi's piercing gaze. "It's just...different."
"Good, it's supposed to feel different."
"That's not quite what I was getting at."
"Really now? I was under the impression it was."
Atemu ran a hand through his hair, the material stretching across his well-toned body slightly. "I mean, you've done sporty and casual clothes, you've done formal wear, but you've never designed this line before—"
"This year's theme is 'sexy', Atemu. Unless leather turns you off."
He squirmed and sweated slightly. It wasn't that at all—! "But—" he tried to grasp his losing argument.
"But nothing," Yuugi interrupted smoothly, effectively silencing the tanned man and minimizing the distance between them with a single step. "Are you telling me you don't like this? Because if that's the case, you can take them off right now, and wear the ones that you've just changed out of."
Yuugi hummed appreciatively as he ran his fingers down the firm chest. He felt the muscles quiver slightly under his touch and smiled; leaning in closer so that they were almost touching, he whispered into Atemu's ear, "That's what I thought," before nipping on his left earlobe.
He gasped, involuntarily jerking, his body arching upwards at the unexpected touch.
Yuugi 'tsk'-ed, hands pressing firmly to hold Atemu against the small change-room's wall. "Now, now," he murmured, partially burying his face into the crook of the other's neck. Upon finding the pulse, he sucked gently on it; Atemu shivered, fingers twitching and aching to place themselves upon Yuugi's hips, but it was an impossible task at the moment – Yuugi's hands slid from his chest and held his hands against the wall, preventing him from doing anything.
The mass of tri-coloured hair moved in Atemu's field of vision, bringing darkened violet eyes right in front of him. His own crimson eyes slipped closed, burning slightly behind the eyelids, waiting, knowing that he wouldn't be disappointed—
Then there they were; lips descended on his, supple and sweet, pushing, pulling, nipping, fighting a tongue war that Yuugi won in no time. Their bodies shifted, with one of Yuugi's legs planted firmly between Atemu's, and finally, finally, his hands were free and he wasted no time in letting them roam and grope.
A low noise, halfway between a groan and a growl, emitted from Yuugi's throat, and he pulled away, both of them gasping; licking Atemu's lips once more, his tongue wandered, leaving behind a minute trail of saliva to his right earlobe, where he nipped again, lapping at it afterwards as an apology to the harsh treatment.
Atemu's hands stilled.
Moving down to his neck once more, Yuugi sucked and bit down on the flesh, travelling down and across, his Adam's apple and the area above his collarbone, hands on his chest, fingers playing with twin hardened stubs.
Groaning at the lack of attention of a certain area southward, Atemu raised his hands in a weak attempt to guide Yuugi's. Amused, the shorter of the two pulled fully away, garnering him a small whimper.
Smirking rather evilly, he took another step back slowly to study the other; his face was flushed, his eyes were half-lidded, the same shade of dried blood, and he was still panting.
Yuugi stole out of the change-room quickly and returned before Atemu could ask where he had disappeared.
"Nnmgh?" Atemu felt something go around his neck – something soft yet hard at the same time, much like what he put on five (really? Just five? It certainly felt longer...) minutes ago. "Yuugi? What's this?"
"It's part of the outfit." He took a step back to inspect his model. "Do a three-sixty for me, Atemu."
Gulping slightly, he did as asked.
Yuugi chuckled. "You have ten minutes to cool off there. I expect you to be up on stage, proudly showing off my newest creation."
Nodding, he bent over to pick up the discarded garments, but yelped when he felt a slap to his rear. He moaned. How am I supposed to cool off now?
"I also expect you to stand up there with me when the catwalk's over."
Having gathered his clothes in his arms, he nodded again. Yuugi smiled – a genuine smile this time – and gave him a chaste kiss.
"We'll continue this later...my house."
Of course, his hazy mind managed to concoct as the change-room's door swung shut at Yuugi's departure, it figures that his designer always knew how he liked it and what suited him best.
- Owari -
Authoress Notes: Had fun with this one again, just like Practice, though I doubt I'll be doing this stuff again any time soon, heh...
Reviewing and/or feedback – a.k.a. constructive criticism – is highly encouraged!