The older man wasn't that good looking, or stunningly handsome. Misaki assured himself of it all the time. But it didn't help things that the second time he'd ever come into contact with Usami, the prick had brought him undone with just his hand, out of nowhere. And he'd die rather than admit it was good, but oh, it was good.
At that moment, it was hard for Misaki to think, so he couldn't be blamed for his fascination with the smugness painted on Usami's face. Even though there were rings under his eyes, and his hair was mussed from sleeping, the boy couldn't help it. Sexy. The word bubbled up to the surface and he battered it down, furious with himself. He promptly unleashed said fury on the damn stunningly handsome idiot who'd just jacked him off out of nowhere!
Usami certainly had a profound knowledge in unorthodox romance. Bluntly pronouncing embellished words of love at all the wrong times, in Misaki's opinion, saying embarrassing things and making long speeches about how important Misaki was – the boy was sure it was simply for the shock value.
He couldn't reciprocate such fancy words, or such strong sentiments. At least not aloud. Misaki knew that this type of thing should really come more naturally, develop over a length of time. Not that he'd wanted them, but there weren't really flowers and formal gestures or normal from Usami.
Though the eccentric things Usami did for him, however strange or over exaggerated, didn't make him unhappy. Far from it.
" Misaki. I'd like you to kiss me."
" Idiot! Go away."
Instead, Usami sighed, and then softly captured the boy's lips, and Misaki had to pretend he didn't want it.
Misaki was breathless when they separated, and Usami smiled that smile.
" I can't work without a good luck kiss. They say a kiss from a lover is the most powerful lucky charm that ever existed." He smirked when Misaki muttered something scathing.
But as Usami turned away, going to hole up with his writing for hours, Misaki felt almost disappointed that there would be no more kisses that night.
Usami had been busy the past couple of weeks with multiple projects. Misaki had busied himself with work and school, never once noticing the break in routine.
That's right, Misaki didn't notice that Usami just barely sat down for supper with him. He didn't notice that he'd barely seen the idiot for weeks, and he certainly didn't notice the lack of sex. The lack of cold hands, and heated kisses. He didn't notice, or miss them, at all. He was actually maybe a little glad he wasn't being subjected to such embarrassing situations.
He didn't notice the lack of sex, no.
After the fourth week, the dreams started. The horrible, sinful dreams that were heady and teasing. They always left Misaki gasping and panting in the middle of the night, and how he hated waking up. He always swore, fighting down the distinct need to cry in frustration, thinking hopelessly to himself: it wasn't real.
Two weeks more, and Misaki found himself watching Usami carefully for the few times he was around. Wasn't Usami supposed to be the sex-fiend, after all? So what universe was Misaki living in now? The boy told himself he just didn't care. He also told himself that the too-tight pants he wore, and the way he sometimes 'forgot' to pull his shirt down wasn't, by any means, a try at seduction. He didn't want sex anyway, he never had.
When his clothing debacles (which weren't on purpose) encouraged nothing, Misaki got angry. His mood was suddenly on a short fuse, and Lord help him, should Usami even talk to him, he was compelled to snarl and hiss. Next, the fury dissipated into a somewhat listless disposition, which eventually lapsed back into resigned, unadulterated frustration. Misaki was officially at his wit's end, and he was restless like he'd never been before.
Another week passed before Usami emerged from his room, looking like hell, and groaning something weak about needing food.
Misaki, who had been doing little more than staring at the black screen of the television, snapped and told the idiot to make his own.
" I'm going out," he seethed.
" Oh, where to?" Usami queried.
He hadn't really thought that through, where he would go, why he would go there; but he had to go. He couldn't be around Usami because he was going to lose his mind.
" Why don't you stick around? I'm done my work now, so you have me all to yourself."
Misaki near growled. He closed his eyes minutely to regain some of his bearings. " I don't want you," he said, a slight calmer than he felt.
Usami padded down the stairs, one hand clutching his chest. " You don't?" he asked, affecting mock hurt.
Misaki rolled his eyes. " Of course not."
The older man shrugged, as if unsurprised, and went about searching the fridge for left-overs. Misaki followed his movement with rapt attention, before turning away and mentally scolding himself. He told himself firmly that he didn't want to be mauled right now. It was better that Usami was ignoring him. Misaki could handle being ignored, because he didn't need Usami to touch him and hold him and kiss him and–
" Misaki, there's nothing good in the fridge, make me something."
" No, you idiot, I know for a fact there's food in there. Just pick something."
" There isn't."
Misaki huffed loudly, marching over to the fridge, careful to avoid the other man. He peered inside. " Look! There's-" Misaki stuttered to a stop, feeling hot breath on the nape of his neck. He shivered, eyes fighting to stay open.
" What, that?" Usami asked, all too innocently from behind him. " I don't feel like eating that, though."
" Well," he breathed out in a whoosh. " Just eat the damn thing. I'm not making you anything."
Usami sighed. " Fine." His hand touched Misaki's shoulder, and at the contact, a fiery jolt shot through him. Usami nudged him to the side.
Misaki did, feeling stupid. He watched as Usami stuck the dish in the microwave. He watched as he moved around the kitchen, getting a fork and a glass. He couldn't stop watching. His mouth was suddenly too dry.
Usami poured himself some milk, and he grasped the glass just so as he brought it to his lips. Misaki couldn't move, and he watched the elegant tilt of Usami's neck, and the way the creamy skin looked unnaturally pale from no sunlight for so long. Misaki shifted uneasily on his feet, and tried to look away as Usami swallowed, but he could only track the movement with unfaltering concentration.
The boy stood there, mindlessly rooted to the spot, feeling out of place, and much too hot.
Maybe it was the way Usami was ignoring him, or maybe Misaki was developing a fetish for milk-drinkers, either way, he was pissed, and his self control was currently being strangled and choked.
Usami set down his empty glass, and Misaki barely waited for his hands to be free before speeding forward. He practically yanked Usami down to his height, his eyes feverish and steely. He fisted Usami's shirt in his hands.
" Stop ignoring me, you idiot!" he hissed. Usami looked at him as though he hadn't the vaguest clue as to what was going on, and Misaki felt like he could scream. Instead, he decided to take drastic measures.
He took a bracing breath.
Pulling harder on his shirt, moving fast so he wouldn't leave room for hesitation, Misaki crushed his lips against Usami's. He felt the other respond almost immediately, and much to his horror, the kiss had him letting out a long, guttural moan.
They separated fast, Misaki flushed and startled while Usami beamed.
" I was wondering how long this would take," he said off handedly, complacently.
The boy narrowed his eyes, mortification temporarily forgotten in favor of suspicion. " What?"
" How long it would take for you to get so fed up you'd have to do something." Still, that smug smile.
" Y-You...you planned this?" Misaki sputtered, realization dawning. " For nine weeks...you..."
" That's right," Usami practically sang. " I did have work, of course, but not nearly nine week's worth."
Misaki didn't say anything for a time. Then he screamed. " YOU IDIOT!" And he didn't stop there.
" You bastard, Usagi-san, you stupid, perverted, psycho-" Misaki faltered, mid-rant, noticing the expectant look on Usami's face. He almost choked when he realized what the idiot wanted, but there was no way he was going to fill any expectations. His eyebrows furrowed even as a hot blush worked its way up his neck.
Never again. Never. He was nowhere near frustrated enough to give Usami any kind of satisfaction. Oh God, why him? He could feel the headache already, the furious thrumming pounding in time with his angry blood.
" Screw you," he half-growled, half-screeched, immediately turning on his heels and near-running to his bedroom.
Misaki sat on his bed stewing, trying not to clench his fists too hard. Who in their right mind pulled a stunt like that? Misaki glared at the wall as he thought about the first kiss he'd ever initiated. He hid his face in his hands with a despairing groan.
It wasn't long before Usami had opened his door and was treading carefully into the room.
" Misaki, surely you're not that upset about-"
" Get the hell away," he spat harshly.
" Misaki, I just wanted..." Usami trailed off, the words dying on his lips.
With a heavily petulant and unwilling look on his face, Misaki had outstretched his arms in a silent beckoning. His fingers were spread, and his arms were extended straight out, in major contrast to his words.
Usami smiled, approaching and gently pushing Misaki down on his bed, relishing the arms that wrapped around his form tightly, clawing at his back. The desperation was there, and it was immediate and warm, and Usami thrilled inside.
" Don't ever do that to me again," Misaki mumbled from underneath him, looking away.
" I promise," Usami said in earnest, meaning it. It had been fun to watch Misaki squirm, but Usami wasn't sure he could resist for so long ever again. It had been agonizing, and he would make sure the word 'abstinence' never had to be incorporated into his life ever again.
This time, while Misaki refused to initiate, he made no protest and reacted in kind. All formalities and restraints were lifted, and Misaki was already hard and wriggling, exercising his vocal chords with abandon. Needy hands clutched and groped in a silent plea that meant 'hurry!'
Oh, this would be fun, Usami thought. Nine weeks was more than worth this.
" Nnnh, Usagi-san!" Misaki was impatient, his voice keening and honey-doused. He urged the idiot on with every way he knew how, never once saying the words.
Usami readily complied.
If one were to be technical about it, the physical part of their relationship had progressed immediately after they'd met. Misaki had been pissed before, during, and after, and Usami had been proving a flimsy point. The far away experience couldn't compare to this, though. Couldn't compare at all.
Misaki tried hopelessly not to embarrass himself, holding his voice in, avoiding eye contact. He tried to stay his instincts that begged him to wriggle and grind before he went mad with pent up pleasure.
Usami's voice sounded gently, his tone low and husky. " Misaki, let me hear you." The older man bowed his head to the base of Misaki's neck, expelling a hot lungful of air against the receptive skin. He enjoyed the visible shiver that ran through the younger's body.
Persistent, if anything, Usami dragged the wet insides of his lips along Misaki's skin, grazing his teeth over a wildly pulsing vein. He kissed and sucked, bringing up love marks; little bruises of possession. Misaki tried to reign in his shuddering breaths, but he couldn't focus on anything but those lips, torturing him
Next, a cool hand hitched up his shirt, lazily running over heated skin and taut muscles, loving how each nerve ending seemed to physically twitch in eager response. When a thumb brushed his nipple, Misaki bit his lip hard enough to hurt, choking on something like a gasp and moan melded together.
Usami's lips puckered against his skin, sending tingling electricity running rampant.
" Tut, tut, Misaki, I want to hear you," he scolded, voice husky and oh God — a tongue slid into the dip of his collarbone.
A second, devious hand trailed in horrible slowness down to the hem of Misaki's pants, tracing invisible patterns there. The boy was practically quivering, and when the daring appendage brushed over the front of his jeans, the threw his head to the side, trying to muffle himself in the sheets. From above him, there was a disapproving grunt, followed by the quick undoing of a zipper. Misaki gasped at the onslaught of sensation, gritting his teeth together, feeling his throat constrict in his effort not to embarrass himself.
All he could focus on, all that seemed right at the moment were lips and hands and heat – Usami, nothing but him.
He couldn't help but squirm when Usami's cold hand wrapped around him, teasingly, slowly, and he half-whimpered, barely restraining himself.
With an impatient sound, Usami aligned their hips and jerked them forward. Even though he was still clothed and quite restricted, the motion was the last board coming down from a poorly built defense.
In a gratifying instant, Misaki screamed as he arched into the warm body pressing against him, hands clenched tightly against flesh, tightly enough to hurt. Usami moved again, and the hands uncurled to grab insistently at his shoulders. Lips grinned, happily now, against salty skin.
" Good boy," he purred.
Misaki moaned loudly, unable to help it, chest heaving, breathing erratic, and eyes half lidded. He tried to press closer, though he knew that was impossible.
Misaki had been living with Usami for a long time now.
By a stroke of random luck, he'd walked into a quaint, insanely popular bakery, tasted one cookie, and was instantly sold. In his enthusiasm, he'd chatted up the woman behind the counter, who just so happened to be the owner and a maître pâtissier. He'd demanded to know about the recipe and where she got her ingredients, ranting and raving like a crazy person in absolute love.
She'd laughed, swearing her recipes to secrecy, before politely asking if he were interested in baking. He'd said yes, about to elaborate further, when she'd cut him off.
" How would you like to work here? You could learn all my secret recipes," she said, smiling.
Misaki didn't even have to think as he bumbled his way through a lengthy affirmative. He promptly quit his old job, and started at the bakery as soon as he could. What started out with wanting to learn the recipes turned into a simple stocking job, aiding minimally in the baking process, but mostly doing odds and ends and tending to the cash register. But, it wasn't long before Lillian had taken a keen shine to Misaki, and was teaching him how to work in the kitchen, how to bake a batch of cookies here and there.
After a while, Lillian decided to officially take Misaki under her wing, teaching him all her tricks and secrets. Misaki took to it like he'd been saving his passion especially and solely for this. He flourished, and was happy. He continued his schooling, but what he truly cared for now was baking in his cherished bustling bakery.
It wasn't long before Lillian was talking about passing her title down to Misaki, along with the shop, if the time should ever come.
Misaki was, needless to say, ecstatic. If he could secure this future for himself, he could probably manage to pay for his side of the rent at Usami's.
He was still with the idiot. After all the years, he'd somehow managed it. Though he still had his own bedroom, which he slept in, and it wasn't as though things had changed monumentally. Usami was still Usami and Misaki was still Misaki.
One day, however, Usami was suddenly demanding that Misaki forgo the use of his own bed completely, and just sleep with him every night. His bed was big enough, after all.
" Why, Usagi-san? I like my bed," Misaki said distractedly, reading a book about the delicacy of icing.
" Why not? It's about time you kept me company more."
" I keep you company plenty, Usagi-san." The boy didn't even look up from his book.
" No, you don't. And when you do you're always talking about that Lillian or baking or-"
" Look, that's what I'm doing. Besides, I might be able to take over the bakery one day. I told you, it's pretty big stuff. Stop being a crybaby."
Usami sighed. " I'm not. I'm just assuming you're tired of sleeping alone, seeing as we're lovers in separate beds."
" I'm not the one who's tired of it, you are," Misaki pointed out.
The conversation continued in this way, until the boy got fed up and blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
" Are you jealous of Lillian, or my job, or something?" he asked, exasperated.
There seemed to be a pause, as if Usami was deliberating, and then he smiled that smile. " And what if I was?"
" Idiot. There's no need for that," he said, flushing slightly at how he meant it. He didn't like thinking about it, but he would always love Usami best. He scrunched up his nose at the thought, trying to calm his heartbeat. He had no idea why, really...
" That is a relief," Usami said, and though Misaki was looking at the floor, he could hear the smirk in his voice.
When Misaki looked up again, Usami was there, ready to kiss him until his attention was completely diverted from the book about icing. It flopped to the floor forgotten, pages creasing.
Later that night, a little after midnight, Misaki crawled into Usami's bed.
All he offered was, " There's no saying this is permanent, I just want you to stop whining already. Also, if you try anything funny, I'll hurt you."
Usami nodded, trying to hide his grin. When Misaki was settled, he pulled him close, despite a slight protest that didn't last long anyway.
It turned out that Usami didn't try any strenuous activities that night in bed, and they slept curled around each other peacefully. Misaki had gotten one of the best night's sleep in a long time, and he smiled lazily at his bed partner when he woke up.
Misaki never went back to his own bed after that, not even if they fought.
Okay. Oh god. I think the actual prompt for this is to write 100 words for each stage. As you can see, I sort of shot that to hell. They got progressively longer. And perhaps OOC. Also, I've made some extrapolations about Misaki, and I concluded that I liked him as a pastry chef/or regular old chef. If you don't like the idea, sorry. It kind of ate my brain. Aha, and I realize he was in university for...what? Business? Ooh well. I want him to be a chef! And make sweet sweets! Doesn't that sound darling? Of course it does.
Again, I'm making Misaki do things he wouldn't normally do. Especially in the Passion one. But um, considering circumstances, I'd say he'd crack. Who wouldn't? Misaki is human, after all, and he is madly in love with Usami. :) Just go with it, okay? Misaki isn't so one-dimensional.
So, just a little quick, fun project to distract me from the hells of projects that matter for grades. Ugh.
Enjoy? Aha, and drop me a review if you did happen to enjoy :)