Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku. I merely borrow her characters to amuse my own twisted imagination. There is no tangible profit being gained. Thank you, Sensei!
A/N: I posted this for the LJ comm junjou_fanatics, back at the beginning of September. I'm finally posting it here. This is my first fic for this fandom--please don't kill me!
Usami Akihiko let the door shut softly behind him. Toeing off his shoes, he called out a tentative, "I'm home," but received no answer. Not that he had really expected one; it was 2 am, after all, and the chances that Takahashi Misaki would still be awake were slim, indeed. He had classes tomorrow (today), and there was also Misaki's part-time job to consider. Of course, the boy wouldn't need a job if he would just accept an allowance, either from his brother Takahiro, or from Akihiko himself. But Misaki was very insistent upon earning his own pocket money, at least. He didn't wish to burden others with his needs, nor did he wish to explain his every frivolous purchase.
With a sigh, Akihiko tossed his suit jacket over the back of the couch. It was then that he noticed the bouquet of flowers in a vase on the coffee table. It was visually stunning, bold yet elegant, and very masculine, a statement in primary colors. Golden daffodils, deep blue Dutch irises, and brilliant scarlet parrot tulips had been artfully arranged in a heavy square glass container. This didn't seem like Misaki's doing; he wondered who they were from? Leaning against the vase was a folded note held closed with a sticker shaped like a rabbit. Akihiko had to chuckle; that was Misaki's. No matter how long and hard the boy defended his masculinity, he had some very feminine habits. Akihiko carefully opened the note and read:
"Usagi-san,
Welcome home! I hope you enjoyed your visit with Aikawa-san. It was a lovely night for a drive.
Congratulations on your nomination for the Mishima Yukio Award! Aikawa-san called with the news 10 minutes after you left. Please accept these flowers from me. I know they're not roses, but the florist assured me that any man would appreciate receiving such a bouquet. I hope he wasn't mistaken. (You should see this guy--I don't think I've ever seen a man so tall before! But he is very kind and helpful.)
Have you eaten yet? If not, there is a plate prepared for you in the fridge. If you put it in the microwave on Medium for 3 minutes, it should heat through. Sorry I am not up to greet you, I tried to wait up for you, I really did, but I had to give up at midnight. I thought Aikawa-san might have let you come home early, knowing I was eager to congratulate you. Wait, that didn't sound right... Oh well, you understand, I'm sure." (Akihiko couldn't help but grin. He did understand, probably better than Misaki did himself.) "And I even made your favorite meal! But I'm sure it would have tasted better fresh. Sorry again.
Anyway, congratulations again! I'll see you in the morning. And if you let me know which book was nominated, I'll read it. At least, I'll try. I promise. Don't forget to sleep. Goodnight. Congratulations.
Misaki"
Akihiko sighed again. Misaki... That boy had no clue how he affected the writer. With all his awkward earnestness, he was just so, so...
Whatever, he'd think of the word he was looking for eventually. Right now, it was late, and all Akihiko wanted was to let himself drop like a stone into the oblivion of slumber. He appreciated Aikawa's dedication to the job, and her enthusiasm for the subject matter, but to keep him tied up with discussing the sexual exploits of "Akihiko" and "Misaki", when he had the real item waiting for him at home... well, wasn't that a bit much?
Tugging at his tie, Akihiko opened the door to his bedroom and stopped, flabbergasted. Instead of the usual neatly-made-up bed, with Suzuki-san propped up expectantly against the pillows, Suzuki-san was cuddled up among the rumpled blankets with '...Misaki?'
Yes. Misaki. Was asleep. In Akihiko's bed. Strands of soft dark hair caressed the sleeping boy's cheek. Light from the open door washed across one pale shoulder and down the arm that clutched Suzuki-san... Wait. Where were Misaki's pajamas? Akihiko closed his eyes, stifling a soft groan. That kid... So innocent, so sweet, so damn fuckable. Yes, that was the word he'd been searching for: fuckable. All the boy lacked was a ribbon around his neck and a gift card reading, "For Usagi-san". The invitation couldn't have been clearer if it had arrived engraved on fine linen and presented on a silver platter, and Akihiko would be damned if he didn't accept.
He stalked toward the bed like a great cat, a silent predator, tie, vest and shirt all falling, discarded and forgotten, along the way. He drew close to his sleeping angel, but stopped short. One question was niggling at the back of his mind: why? Why was Misaki in his bed? It just wasn't like his young lover to be this obvious. Oh yes, Akihiko wanted to pounce Misaki. There was no question about that. But first, he wanted an answer to this riddle. Then he'd pounce.
Thus resolved, he sat carefully on the edge of the mattress and placed a cool hand on the boy's bare shoulder. "Misaki."
Misaki stirred and peered hazily up at Akihiko. "Oh, Usagi-san... Welcome home. Did you eat yet?"
"Mm-hmm, Aikawa and I ordered in, don't worry."
"Ah, that's good. Um, congratulations again on the award. Did you like the flowers?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes, they were quite striking. A nice selection... Misaki, why are you in my bed?"
The student looked puzzled, then startled, and started to push himself upright. "I'm so sorry, Usagi-san! I forgot that I fell asleep here," he apologized, trying to set Suzuki-san against the headboard. "I'll go back to my room right away, sorry to inconvenience you!"
Akihiko laid a restraining hand on the boy's chest. "Misaki, calm down. It's all right, I didn't say you had to leave. I just wanted to know why you're in my bed," he reassured.
"Oh. Well... Um, you see... I thought you'd be home earlier," Misaki explained, "so I put all your shirts in the wash, but then you didn't come home, and there wasn't a shirt, and I couldn't sleep, so I--" The young man's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said, and he clapped his hands over his mouth, turning bright red with embarrassment. "..."
Akihiko's eyes also widened with surprise, then narrowed in a seductive, heavy-lidded gaze. "Misaki," he crooned. "How long have you been sleeping with my worn shirts?"
"Ack! Stupid Usagi! Wh-why would I do something like that? Who s-said I did? I never--"
The writer chuckled as he pulled the boy back against his bare chest. "I missed you, too," he murmured in his lover's ear.
"I never said that! Stop drawing your own conclusions, damn it!" Misaki sputtered, struggling in the older man's embrace.
"Misaki," Akihiko breathed against his neck, "what are you wearing, hmm?"
"What am I--? Damn pervert! I'm not-- I'm wearing-- I... I... ohh..." the youth let out a moan as Akihiko's large, cool hand slipped beneath the waistband of Misaki's boxer shorts. "Ah! U-Usagi-san... please... don't... I..."
"You know, Misaki, you really should just accept it. This time, it's all your doing. You're in my bed, and far be it from me to object, but this time it's not," stroke... "my," stroke... "fault." stroke...
"Ngh! Uwah... It was... hah... a mistake..." the boy panted desperately.
"I don't think so," Akihiko replied, letting his other hand trail up Misaki's body to playfully tweak his nipples.
"Aah! Don't touch there!"
"Say it, Misaki."
"Wh-what?"
"Say, 'I love you.'"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Doesn't it... ahn... lose value... if you make me... ohh... say it?
"I don't mind."
"I do!"
"Do what? Love me?"
"No! I mind!... hah... Stupid rabbit!"
"Say, 'I missed you.'"
"I didn't!"
"Say, 'I missed you so much. I can't even sleep without you.'"
"Usagi!"
"Say it."
"I can't!"
"But it's true, isn't it?" Akihiko purred, kissing the nape of Misaki's neck.
"Usagi-san... I... I'm... I'm going to..."
The novelist tightened his hold at the base of his lover's throbbing erection. "No, you're not," he whispered coyly in the boy's ear.
"Huh??" Misaki trembled like an aspen leaf in a windstorm, tears of frustrated desire forming in the corners of his eyes. "U-Usagi... san?" he asked weakly, staring up at the older man in disbelief.
"Say it and I'll keep going," Akihiko smiled down at him, still gripping his member firmly. The boy screwed his eyes shut and shook his head vigorously in denial. The writer 'tsk'ed' at his lover. "Just say you love me, Misaki, and I'll take good care of you. Stop being so difficult."
"I'm not... the difficult... one," the younger man objected.
"Misaki..."
"Okay, okay... I... love you... Usagi-san..." he muttered through gritted teeth.
"And?"
"And... I missed... you... so much..."
"Hmm, I don't know... That sounded insincere," Akihiko mused.
"Usagi-san..." Misaki growled.
"Tell me what you want," the older man coaxed, grinning mischievously.
"Usagi-san... please," the boy pleaded, "don't leave... me this way!"
"But what do you want me to do, Misaki?" he asked, smirking, as he began to undo his slacks and moved to kneel between his lover's knees.
Misaki snapped. He grabbed Akihiko by the shoulders. "I want you to fuck me, damn it!" he shouted in his face. Then, turning bright red in utter mortification, he buried his face in the other man's chest. "Usagi, you stupid bastard," he sobbed.
Akihiko guffawed as he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and pulled him close. "Misaki..." he chortled merrily, "you are just so... incredibly... fuckable... Okay, I'll give you what you want."
"Never mind," the younger man muttered petulantly, trying to turn away.
"No, no," Akihiko helped him out of his boxers, "I insist. Besides," he nipped at Misaki's collarbone as he lifted him onto his own achingly aroused cock, "I can't hold back any longer." He thrust deeply into his lover, eliciting a groan. "You're so adorable, Misaki-kun."
"Fuck... you... stupid... rabbit," the boy moaned in reply.
"I love you," Akihiko crooned.
"Shut up!"
"I love you."
"Don't say that!"
"But I do. I love you," Akihiko insisted.
"Mmph!" Misaki tried to hold in his cries of pleasure.
"Don't hold back. I want to hear you."
"Usagi-san!"
"I love you, Misaki."
"Ah! I... I'm going to..."
"Then come," Akihiko thrust into him harder.
"No... I... hah..."
"Come with me, Misaki. Let go," Akihiko rasped.
"Usagi... I'm... ohh... I'm coming..."
"Yes. I love you, Misaki," the novelist answered breathlessly, "come with me."
"Ahnnnnnnnnn..." the boy lost the battle as waves of ecstasy washed over him and dragged him under, splashing himself and his lover with semen as Akihiko spilled his hot seed inside him.
Carefully withdrawing, the older man drew his young lover close and lovingly kissed his forehead. Sighing contentedly, he ran his fingers through the silken strands of Misaki's hair. He desperately wanted a cigarette, but he didn't want to break the mood. "Tell me, why won't you ever say that you love me?" he asked, staring into the dark.
"I just did," Misaki grumbled, trying to turn away.
Akihiko propped himself up on his elbow. "No, I mean, why won't you say it willingly?"
"Usagi-san..."
"I'm serious, Misaki. After all, I tell you all the time."
"Exactly! It's embarrassing!"
"More embarrassing than being caught practically naked, curled up with your lover's teddy bear, asleep in your lover's bed?"
"...no."