It's be soooooo looonnngggg since I've uploaded something onto this site. Well, I forgot that I had an account on here since I have a dA. Oh well. I gotta catch up.

I'm not making any money from this so please don't sue. I don't own these characters in anyway. They are owned by Capcom.

It's absolutely amazing what the mind can do to someone. Filled with thoughts, memories, emotions and fantasies, it can twist one's judgment, bend his or her thoughts. They could want something that could be seen as unacceptable and immoral or acceptable and loving. Even the most beautiful, the most powerful have fallen to their own demises.

Klavier Gavin, the famous rockstar prosecutor, leaned back in his chair, propping his feet ontop of his desk. It had been a slow day, which was rare for him. Herr Forehead was no where to be seen or else he would've dropped in to say "hi" by now. Fraulein Detective would've called him to talk – or bitch –about the case. Herr Crescend would've dropped a pile of evidence of his desk. Not today, it seemed. His desk was tidy, the phone hadn't rung and it was so quiet. It was the perfect luxury sometimes.

Rolling his head on his shoulders, Klaiver sighed. He was bored, he had to admit. Being alone in his office was never his "thing." He let his mind wander and that was always, always dangerous territory.

His thoughts usually wandered to one person – his older brother, Kristoph. He really did look up to the man. Not only was he a sophisticated man of intelligence, he was indeed beautiful. Pale, blonde, sapphires behind glasses. Thoughts of him always made blood run south. As taboo as it was in society, it was also a thrill. That thrill that no one knew of birthed a fantasy of his older brother bending him over his desk or engulfing him whole, or pinning up against some wall and – Oh Gott.

Cussing to himself, Klavier Gavin felt his loins start to swell. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was forbidden. Ach, he didn't care. He knew the risks, he knew what he had to lose. He almost wanted to lose everything so he could get what he wanted for so long. He was dying to color outside the lines for a change but, of course, he wouldn't.

That's why his fantasy was nothing more than a mere fantasy.

Klavier rubbed his clothed groin, emitting a soft sigh. He had done this many times before, it was almost a ritual when times got slow around the office. He skimmed his now spread thighs slowly, feeling his muscles tense and spasm.

They weren't his hands now, he imagined, but of his brother's; those pale, soft, flawless hands, the smooth palms, the perfectly groomed nails. They were his brother's, they were Kristoph's. They were Kristoph's and Kristoph's alone and they were touching him in the most intimate way. If only…

"Oh Kris.." He groaned to himself, sinking down into his chair. Meeting the waistband of his pants, the rockstar struggled slightly, shaking too much out of anticipation. If it was Kristoph, he would most likely have his pants undone in no time. He was just perfect with being precise. That only meant that he would be perfect with other things.

Finally undoing his fly, Klavier shivered from the sudden temperature change. The air around him was chill, his skin hot and throbbing. His organ pleaded for attention, no matter what it was but it was only for Kristoph.

Grasping his twitching organ, he couldn't help but moan loudly. It wasn't like this now. It wasn't Klavier stroking himself behind the desk in the privacy of his office. He was somewhere else and it was just him and…


He started to stroke himself slowly. The tunnel of his hand was sluggishly slow over the flesh only to tighten at the head. From base to tip, he would repeat this motion over and over again. He leaned his head back, stretching his throat for his imaginary brother to see.

His hand wasn't his hand as he looked down. Kristoph was there, inbetween his legs, his precious mouth wrapped around that cock. How gracefully the blonde hair swayed as he moved up and down, up, down. He shuddered at the sight. Everything he had wanted, no, the only thing he would die for was before him. He was so happy, it was like Christmas.

The movement of his hand sped up as the scene switched. He wasn't looking down at his brother. No. He was eyelevel now. They were in his office – Kristoph's – alone. Feeling something prod against his lower entrance, Klavier gasped. As it slipped in slowly, slowly, slowly, he couldn't help but groan deeply in his chest and grip his cock with an iron grip.

He imagined himself, with every stroke, that he was impaling himself over and over again on is brother's organ. He sometimes moved quickly, other times slowly. He felt his brother's smirking eyes on him, grinning so devilishly. It was a thought that excited him greatly.

Something, within reality or fantasy, made him see stars and feel a warm knot in the pit of his gut. His motions against his organ sped up, his moans became desperate. He needed to feel that release, that pleasure. If he didn't, it felt as if he would suffocate. He needed to hear his brother moan his name. "Klavier."

He would moan his in return.






Funny. That last one didn't sound so full of bliss and pleasure.

"What in the world are you doing?"

Uh... Uh oh…

Klavier sat up only to see a very, frankly, pissed off Kristoph in the doorway of his office. It was then that Klavier soon learned that his fantasy was going to be nothing but a mere fantasy and never a reality.

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