This story is YAOI so if you don't like that kind of thing, don't read it (or complain to me about it afterwards) There's a non-explicit sex scene, but the meaning behind the story isn't about sex.
I tried challenging myself by writing it in the first person as Yuki speaking directly to Shuichi. Since this style is usually used for poetry, not short stories it might come off as a little awkward (it was harder than I thought to write like that!) I hope it ends up sounding like internal thoughts.
Well anyway, please enjoy. And comments/criticism are much appreciated. = )
Opposition
I feel your fingers digging into my back, clinging to me tightly as if afraid to fall, yet I'm the one who feels as if I'm on a precipice. Your mouth is so close to my ear as I kiss your neck, even your softest whispers fill my senses. I hear my own name as you murmur and sigh. It's so different when you say it than when anyone else does.
Everything about you is different, Shuichi. Most people look at me and see Yuki Eiri, the novelist. Someone famous to brush up against to get an autograph or into his bedroom. A conquest to brag to their friends about later. But you... You didn't read my books or ask for fame. You looked past the walls I've put up around my heart. You saw something else inside me that I don't want to look at myself.
When I'm harsh to you, you rush back to my side. You beg my forgiveness when you've done nothing wrong. You savor my cruelty and revel in my kindness. I can do no wrong in your eyes. I've often wondered why you act that way. I think you do it for the same reason you get on stage. You only want to experience the highest highs or the lowest lows. It's the only way you feel like you're alive. Mediocrity leaves you numb and you would rather suffer than feel nothing at all. I'll make you feel it all. I'll give you the torment your eyes beg me for.
And who am I to change things now? You don't love me for my money, the car, the fame. You fell in love with me when I was cruel and I didn't care about anybody. You loved cold Yuki. If I changed my attitude now, if I asked for your compassion and gentleness, would you lose interest? If you're so faithful when I'm cruel to you, would it make you think less of me if I faltered for a minute and asked you to hold me?
It's all so strange and new to you. Touching fame, lying in my bed. You've never experience this before. You don't want to be in love, you want to be conquered by it. You crave my utter dominance and want to be in complete submission. You don't understand that many lovers have come and gone from my bed; few of whom cared about me personally, fewer of whom I cared for in return. I'm sick of just "fucking". Is it so much to ask that we do something as equals? Something that would stay with me, that would be mutual. I always wondered what it would be like to share something like that with someone.
But it's the highs and lows you want. If I asked you for compassion, you might slip away from me. Even if that IS what you want, I can't ask you. A lifetime of holding everything inside, of not letting weakness show, has kept me from entertaining the idea. Yuki doesn't apologize, doesn't open up, doesn't cry. It's my nature now. What I've become is all I can ever be.
I push you down onto your back and trace my other hand along your naked form. I still wear my suit, just barely opened in the front. I hate being laid bare in front of you. Your cheeks are flushed and breath comes quickly, making the heat inside me rise. I conquer your mouth with my own and let my hand linger where I please. Christ, you're beautiful.
Kneeling over you, I can study your features. Your face is turned to one side on the satin pillow, your lips are parted as you sigh in pleasure, your eyes are closed. Do you close your eyes because you're savoring the sensation more than the visual? Are you trying to remember every detail for later? Or do you close your eyes so you can distance yourself from me? Enjoy the sensation and forget that it's me who's here with you...
"Open your eyes," I breathe sharply, seizing your wrist, "Look at me." Your violet gaze meets mine with passion and fear. Obediently, you don't take your eyes away.
I grip your ankles and lift them high in the air, pulling them apart and letting my eyes feast on you. Your blush deepens and you murmur an insincere protest. I bring your legs around and drape them over my shoulders, then lean forward over you to lick the hollow of your collarbone, pressing your knees against your chest. You're so open and vulnerable to me...
I long to hear the words that you love me, but instead you simply whisper, "Yuki..." Your eyes tell me that you don't return my desire for tenderness. You want to be taken without mercy.
Fuck you! I'll fuck you.
I shove myself into your warmth while you bask in my coldness. Venting my frustration, I pound into you as if to nail you to the mattress. You shudder and grit your teeth against the pain, then moan as your body accepts it. You need to be torn apart just as badly as I need to be the one to do it.
This won't be the night I tell you I love you. It looks like that day will never come even though it's all I can think about. Instead I hold you painfully tight and entangle my fingers in your hair, holding you down while I desperately hope that you will lift me up.
I tried challenging myself by writing it in the first person as Yuki speaking directly to Shuichi. Since this style is usually used for poetry, not short stories it might come off as a little awkward (it was harder than I thought to write like that!) I hope it ends up sounding like internal thoughts.
Well anyway, please enjoy. And comments/criticism are much appreciated. = )
Opposition
I feel your fingers digging into my back, clinging to me tightly as if afraid to fall, yet I'm the one who feels as if I'm on a precipice. Your mouth is so close to my ear as I kiss your neck, even your softest whispers fill my senses. I hear my own name as you murmur and sigh. It's so different when you say it than when anyone else does.
Everything about you is different, Shuichi. Most people look at me and see Yuki Eiri, the novelist. Someone famous to brush up against to get an autograph or into his bedroom. A conquest to brag to their friends about later. But you... You didn't read my books or ask for fame. You looked past the walls I've put up around my heart. You saw something else inside me that I don't want to look at myself.
When I'm harsh to you, you rush back to my side. You beg my forgiveness when you've done nothing wrong. You savor my cruelty and revel in my kindness. I can do no wrong in your eyes. I've often wondered why you act that way. I think you do it for the same reason you get on stage. You only want to experience the highest highs or the lowest lows. It's the only way you feel like you're alive. Mediocrity leaves you numb and you would rather suffer than feel nothing at all. I'll make you feel it all. I'll give you the torment your eyes beg me for.
And who am I to change things now? You don't love me for my money, the car, the fame. You fell in love with me when I was cruel and I didn't care about anybody. You loved cold Yuki. If I changed my attitude now, if I asked for your compassion and gentleness, would you lose interest? If you're so faithful when I'm cruel to you, would it make you think less of me if I faltered for a minute and asked you to hold me?
It's all so strange and new to you. Touching fame, lying in my bed. You've never experience this before. You don't want to be in love, you want to be conquered by it. You crave my utter dominance and want to be in complete submission. You don't understand that many lovers have come and gone from my bed; few of whom cared about me personally, fewer of whom I cared for in return. I'm sick of just "fucking". Is it so much to ask that we do something as equals? Something that would stay with me, that would be mutual. I always wondered what it would be like to share something like that with someone.
But it's the highs and lows you want. If I asked you for compassion, you might slip away from me. Even if that IS what you want, I can't ask you. A lifetime of holding everything inside, of not letting weakness show, has kept me from entertaining the idea. Yuki doesn't apologize, doesn't open up, doesn't cry. It's my nature now. What I've become is all I can ever be.
I push you down onto your back and trace my other hand along your naked form. I still wear my suit, just barely opened in the front. I hate being laid bare in front of you. Your cheeks are flushed and breath comes quickly, making the heat inside me rise. I conquer your mouth with my own and let my hand linger where I please. Christ, you're beautiful.
Kneeling over you, I can study your features. Your face is turned to one side on the satin pillow, your lips are parted as you sigh in pleasure, your eyes are closed. Do you close your eyes because you're savoring the sensation more than the visual? Are you trying to remember every detail for later? Or do you close your eyes so you can distance yourself from me? Enjoy the sensation and forget that it's me who's here with you...
"Open your eyes," I breathe sharply, seizing your wrist, "Look at me." Your violet gaze meets mine with passion and fear. Obediently, you don't take your eyes away.
I grip your ankles and lift them high in the air, pulling them apart and letting my eyes feast on you. Your blush deepens and you murmur an insincere protest. I bring your legs around and drape them over my shoulders, then lean forward over you to lick the hollow of your collarbone, pressing your knees against your chest. You're so open and vulnerable to me...
I long to hear the words that you love me, but instead you simply whisper, "Yuki..." Your eyes tell me that you don't return my desire for tenderness. You want to be taken without mercy.
Fuck you! I'll fuck you.
I shove myself into your warmth while you bask in my coldness. Venting my frustration, I pound into you as if to nail you to the mattress. You shudder and grit your teeth against the pain, then moan as your body accepts it. You need to be torn apart just as badly as I need to be the one to do it.
This won't be the night I tell you I love you. It looks like that day will never come even though it's all I can think about. Instead I hold you painfully tight and entangle my fingers in your hair, holding you down while I desperately hope that you will lift me up.