Title: Lover Boy
Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation.
Notes: Because you can never get enough of this pairing in the world. I know I should have been writing a WIP all evening instead of this, but I was in the mood for some Gravitation fanfiction. Also, I wasn't sure about the rating. Please tell me if you think I should change it to M. Thank you.
K isn't sure what this is. He's tried everything he can to place it, but nothing so far has worked. It's not the same as what he has with Judy; that's love, he knows it is. If he didn't know that, marrying her would have been a really stupid idea and having a child with her would have been stupider still. She's beautiful, funny, kind and has a murderous streak to match his own; she's right for him.
It's not the same with Hiro. K is supposed to be his manager; nothing more, nothing less. Except he couldn't just leave it at that, and neither could Hiro. He doesn't know why, when Hiro sucked him off for the first time in that cramped and uncomfortable toilet cubicle, he didn't feel any inhibitions due to being a married man. The thought that it shouldn't have happened simply never occurred to him.
What did occur to him later, however, after thinking about nothing but that little incident all day, was that perhaps… just perhaps… he felt something for Hiro. But he knew immediately that it wasn't true; he had, and still has, feelings for Judy. And this was something else entirely. Something separate, something that wasn't under any circumstances to be confused with something serious.
To this day, K doesn't quite understand how he let it happen. He won't deny that Hiro is a bit… rather… incredibly attractive, for a male. He's got that roguish look about him, with his long, messy hair and dark eyes. When he walks, K has to make a painfully conscious effort to keep his gaze away from Hiro's rear. He always lets his jeans ride just a bit too low and his shirt is always only a little bit too tight, but it's almost enough to send K into cardiac arrest and he swears he's never seen anybody look so sexy whilst playing the guitar.
But it's not love. He doesn't know what it is, but it's definitely not love.
Love is what he feels when he's back home in the States, spending time with Michael and making love to Judy whenever there's a space in her busy acting schedule. These moments are so few and far between that sometimes he goes so far as to shoot down anyone who threatens to make Judy's life even busier than it already is. At other times when he's feeling slightly more tolerant, he'll settle for picking fights with Ark while his wife is working. If he says anything relating to the idea that Ark might have feelings for Judy, it usually results in a lot of gunfire and good fun for K.
It's different when he picks fights with Hiro. They're not really proper fights, just little nit-picky things that K doesn't really have any reason to mention at all. So he's not sure why he mentions them anyway but he does, even when he's just making them up for something to say. It's usually something wrong with the way Hiro looks or the way he's acting, something quite personal, and Hiro never has been one for keeping his emotions bottled inside so K gets to revel in his reactions. It's normally the same; first he gets a bit flustered, then he glares and finally he'll start lashing out before either sulking or storming off.
K hasn't been paying any particular attention to these details, he's just noticed that that's the way it works with Hiro.
These little conflicts started as… well, K doesn't know what they started as, but over time they evolved into subtle wars to invoke the most sexual tension on the other. K quickly became very good at winning, and not once has he complained when Hiro claimed his consolation prize.
He knows he should have said something. He should have stopped it before it went any further than that clumsy incident in the toilet cubicle, before Hiro got hurt and before he started to convince himself that he was feeling things that he really only felt for Judy. He should have complained. Even if he didn't complain because of his morals, his wife, his son or both of their careers, he should have at the very least complained about not being on top. But he didn't say a word; not when Hiro dragged him into a narrow cupboard, and not when Hiro's tongue was in his mouth and his hand was down his pants. And the only words he'd said when skin was pressed tightly against sweaty skin in the dark and Hiro was pounding away relentlessly and mercilessly inside him were, "Fuck, yes." Repeatedly and very loudly.
K didn't have time to feel guilty about it, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't have done. He was far too busy being overwhelmed by how undeniably good it had felt, how frighteningly easy it had been to shamelessly lose control under Hiro's command and how the moans coming from behind him, much quieter than his own but just as genuine, were more than enough to send him toppling beyond the point of no return. Even when he slept he couldn't think of anything else; Hiro was everywhere, his hands soaring like liquid fire and his tongue teasing so unbearably that K was certain he would burst if he didn't have him right then.
He's woken up in a cold sweat because of things like that too many times to count. It's not like he loves Hiro or anything; he's just the best sex partner K's ever had.
It wasn't long before it became something of a regular occurrence for the two of them, and K has to admit that he was a little disappointed that nobody else caught onto it. When it became routine to bicker to the point of subtle sexual frustration between them, they grew bolder each time and K at least was aware that they were perhaps laying it on a bit thick. But Shuichi was far too caught up in his own dramatic life to read between the lines of theirs, and Fujisaki was much too busy clinging to the last few fraying threads of his sanity to care about whatever scandals the two of them were getting themselves into. It was probably just as well that Sakano wasn't observant enough to notice since, on top of Ryuichi's stunts, Tohma's harsh authority and Shuichi's tumultuous relationship with Yuki, it would probably be enough to finish the poor man off.
Hiro never cared whether they noticed or not though, and when his hands were trying to undo his belt while loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt all at the same time nether did K.
It gradually turned into almost a ritual instead of just a routine. There would be practicing, rehearsing or recording, whichever Bad Luck needed most that day. K and Hiro would engage in their sly, verbal foreplay and nobody else would see it as anything but a little bit of acceptable bickering and teasing between a manager and his client. As soon as it was time for a break and they were out of sight, Hiro would force K into the nearest fairly private place. Not that K was unwilling, obviously, but some of the places Hiro chose were about as public as they came. Storage closets and toilet cubicles were one thing, but a temporarily empty recording room was quite another. Anybody could have just walked in; and they did once. Nittle Grasper had been using the room and Ryuichi had bounded in, having forgotten something. Dishevelled, panting and flushed, K and Hiro would have been the image of suspicion had Ryuichi been someone else, but fortunately he wasn't. Any suspicion Ryuichi might have had about the two was quickly forgotten when he realised how long it had been since he'd last seen K and how excited he was to see him again. After a brief, animated, one-sided conversation and an acknowledgement to Hiro, Ryuichi left the room again and K had insisted they go somewhere where they wouldn't be disturbed. Hiro had only complied after he'd teased K a little bit more, and after they'd relocated he'd fucked K so hard that he couldn't walk straight for nearly a week.
Part of K really objected to this form of degradation. Not that he'd ever imagined it before but he thought, if he were ever to get into this situation with Hiro, he would be the one wearing the trousers. He would be on top, perfectly in control, his every movement designed to make Hiro writhe and squirm beneath him. And writhe and squirm he would, while he cried out with everything he had for K to take him harder and faster, so much faster, hard enough to tear him in two and leave him paralysed for weeks. Instead K is the one screaming for more, and K is the one who is always left unable to walk without a slight limp. Part of him is always telling him how humiliating it is, but…
Well. K just never expected being on the receiving end to feel so good.
Before he knew it the sticky fumbling in various parts of the NG building seemed like a thing of the past, and he was instead in Hiro's bed. It started casually; they ran into each other in the street. That wasn't a big deal, even K can admit that. But the playful banter they'd grown so used to during work was, by then, second nature, and everything kicked off without either of them really noticing. K found himself pushed roughly against Hiro's apartment door, unable to speak for the tongue down his throat and the practiced hands already working at his clothes. By the time they reached Hiro's room the few items of clothing remaining between them were hurriedly removed and K lost all manner of coherent thought. He ended up face down on the bed with Hiro's hands all over him, rough from playing the guitar and eager from a lack of recent contact, just like in those dreams he'd been having so often. Hiro fucked him passionately and hard without reserve, so hard that K thought he might leave a permanent imprint on the mattress, and K was the one writhing and squirming instead. His fists were clenched and his knuckles were white as sweat ran down his face. Heat flashed in front of his eyes and he couldn't stop himself before it was too late.
"I love you."
It had just slipped out. K hadn't meant for it to do that.
He didn't realise what he'd done until they were both lying together, breathless and glowing in the aftermath, and Hiro had quietly asked if he'd meant it. And everything came hammering home in that horrible way it had a habit of doing; K remembered Judy, but instead of finally feeling guilty he only felt mortified at having almost forgotten about her in the first place. She was his wife, and he loved her. He loved her more than anything, and he still does, despite the affair with Hiro which begs to differ. And that's completely different; it's not the same as what he has with Judy. Hiro is certainly attractive, and K does care about him which means that it isn't just lust. He doesn't know what it is and, as Hiro waits patiently for an answer, K struggles to find one.
It can't be love. It just can't be.