Title: Excite Me More (Even If You Hate Me)
Fandom: [K] Project Anime
Characters/Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki.
Disclaimer: [K] belongs to GoRA and GoHands, I owe none and produce no money out of this.
Warnings: unbeta-ed, grammar errors ahoy, this was written before episode 5, ha.
A/N: This will be a compilations of my one-shots that takes place in the time when Fushimi is still in HOMRA and Totsuka's alive and everything is rainbow and unicorns and nothing hurts. It will have lots of Saruhiko/Misaki pieces, and Anna-related fluff, and basically HOMRA fluff. You know. Because there was a time when everything was alright and awesome.
This one was written just after episode four because. The preview of episode 5. Fucking killed me times and Mamoru's drawl does not help at all. /dies So yeah, more Fushimi/Yata nonsense from me, sorry.
A [K] Project Fanfiction
Excite Me More (Even If You Hate Me)
"Did you ever," Saruhiko begins, carding his fingers through Misaki's already mussed up hair, but said person is already deeply asleep, sprawled on top of Saruhiko, his right cheek against Saruhiko's naked chest. The snore he emits is rhythmic, and sometimes his eyelashes flutter as he mumbles something unintelligible. Saruhiko watches, just as fascinated as he was the first time Misaki fell asleep in his arms.
He doesn't quite know how to end that sentence. Did you ever stop liking me? Did you ever feel angry or mad enough at me it turns to hate? Did you ever regret knowing me at all; did you ever stop and think if you're satisfied? Saruhiko clicks his tongue, hating the many questions flashing on his head.
He hears movement downstairs; the clink of glasses and little spoons, the hearty laughter and violent banters, the occasional expressionless remarks; voices he's grown familiar to. The King's room is the only one upstairs that sees frequent use, but Kusanagi-san likes to keep a room open for any HOMRA member who needs a temporary place to crash. Saruhiko can't say he likes the room much: the couch is lumpy, there's no bed, the wall is rather thin, and there's practically nothing in the room except a couch and a small coffee table. But the room is convenient, especially at times like this, when Misaki's presence just becomes too much for him to bear and he has to grab and kiss and fight and touch him until the two of them melt into one existence.
Misaki is never quiet, thus what they do in the room is practically an open secret. Totsuka will give them amused looks all day, and Anna will stare at them, half in confusion and half in curiosity, because no one has the heart to tell the eleven-year-old girl yet about the birds and the bees. The King will just turn uninterested eyes on them, and occasionally a small smirk, but Kusanagi-san will lecture them on dirtying the room, making them clean up rigorously afterwads. Which usually ends in Saruhiko sparring with Misaki anyway, so it doesn't matter.
Saruhiko clicks his tongue, tracing Misaki's cheekbone with a finger.
They fought with SCEPTER 4 today.
Some HOMRA members were causing a scene with some kind of mafia gang, and the situation had become tensed enough for the King to go there and check on them himself. Saruhiko had hung back, with Misaki and Kusanagi-san and Totsuka-san, watched the King burnt a considerable amount of the apartment in irritation before SCEPTER 4 came barging in. They fought, and Saruhiko even got a chance to go against the Blue King himself.
He'd gone and attacked, and the Blue King had smiled from behind his sword, interest sparking in his eyes.
"We could always have someone with your skill in our clan."
The memory burns behind his eyelids; the Blue King's smile, coy and confident, his voice calm and relaxed enough that Saruhiko just knew he wasn't fighting seriously, his eyes staring directly into Saruhiko's, probing and intense and unraveling everything inside him.
"If you're ever bored, come to us. Who knows, maybe you'll find it even more fun fighting against the Reds rather than being one of them."
That was the last thing the Blue King said to him, because then Mikoto suddenly appeared and pushed Saruhiko behind him—like Saruhiko needed to be protected—and Saruhiko could only watch the clash of blue and red aura, bright and explosive and exceedingly beautiful.
It was a short encounter, but the thought has already been planted in his mind: How would it feel to have the whole HOMRA as his enemy? To fight the King or Kusanagi-san? To fight Misaki?
"You're fucking loud." The person on his chest grumbles. Saruhiko looks down to see Misaki open his eyes, still half-awake, irritation flashing in his eyes. He finds the corner of his lips quirks up in a smirk; it's always been too easy to rile Misaki up, always so wild and uncontrollable, an existence no one can pin down completely. "Shut up."
Saruhiko clicks his tongue. "I can't shut up when I haven't said a damn thing."
"This," Misaki taps his chest on where his heart is, exactly where Misaki's ear was pressed against as the shorter boy slept. "Is goddamn loud. The fuck are you thinking anyway?"
Saruhiko pauses, just now noticing how his heart has been pounding. Exhilaration courses through his whole being, and with a start, he realizes that he's excited. He's excited at the thought of fighting the whole HOMRA, fighting Misaki, to have those fiery, angry eyes turn to him with intense hatred. Misaki, who fights back-to-back with him, who surrenders into his arms if Saruhiko fights hard enough, who grins and yells and punch him in the face. Misaki, who gives his whole being in his feelings, who hates and loves with everything that he's made of, who can get furious and insanely violent in a blink of an eye.
Misaki always, always excites him. The thought of having him as a foe is—unbearably exhilarating.
He shudders, though he can't say if it's from the thought or from the way Misaki is biting absently on his HOMRA insignia. He swats on Misaki's head, bops him when the brunette doesn't stop. Misaki yelps, rising an angry gaze at him, and Saruhiko's heart jumps in anticipation. He breathes out, harshly, before putting a hand on Misaki's nape and pulling him down for a hard, bruising kiss.
Misaki fights, biting down hard on Saruhiko's lower lip until he tastes copper, but Saruhiko doesn't mind.
This. This is what he wants to live for. This sense of excitement, of exhilaration that makes the dull world filled with colors again. This intense sensation that makes it hard to breathe, when he can feel a thousand emotions swirling inside his chest, sparking heat on every single nerve of his body, sending . It's not enough, Saruhiko thinks. More. He wants more. But when this is over and Misaki is gone, everything will change back into muted, boring colors. The spark in him will be gone, leaving him numb.
He lets a hand travel down Misaki's spine, listens to the soft gasp escaping from the shorter boy's lips, takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and ultimately tries to mold their existence into one.
This thrill that Misaki brings. This feeling of being alive that Misaki envelopes him with. Will it change, if he were to be Saruhiko's enemy? Or will it turn more intense, more—arousing?
He feels the laughter at the back of his throat, goes dizzy for a second because the thought—combined with Misaki's movement on top of him—sends electric pleasure through him. Misaki, who is always so very free, whose heart belongs to no one even though he offers the King his utmost loyalty—Saruhiko wants him. He wants everything Misaki has to give—be it love or hate, as long as Misaki's eyes focus only at him. So long as Misaki looks at no one else.
He wants to be someone Misaki both loves and hates the most.
"Shit, ah—" Misaki breaks the kiss to catch a breath; his back arching beautifully when Saruhiko's hand reaches between his legs. "Goddammit, ah! Saruhiko—fuck—"
Saruhiko leans up to follow him and takes Misaki's lips back.
-o0o-
I'm not brave enough to write porn. Shoot me.
