( Author's Note: Originally submitted to the local Battle Royale Kinkmeme blog on tumblr. The place itself seems dead, now, but at least this one got published, so please don't report me for stealing.
This was fun to write, and it had good reception there, so I figured that why not make my return with this ditty.)

Oda Toshinori's day had been extremely draining. One filled with errands, parties, and a rather humiliating run in with Sasagawa Ryuhei that he was trying to forget. Yet he sat in his chair, straight as a ruler, his brow furrowed at the music stand in front of him. The only part of him that was really in motion was his right arm, with which he strummed a bow across the strings of his prized violin. The sheet music went ignored, as Toshinori decided to improvise today's frustrated practice. Each note was a curse against Sasagawa and the stress that he had accumulated in his frame for the past week. The angry sonata came to a stop, and he lowered the instrument and the bow into a rest position on either leg. His lower lip crept out in a pout and he finally slouched.

Toshinori allowed the violin to rest across his lap. The pointed and furled edges pressed into his stomach, and below it was the junction between his legs. He blinked once and looked up at the sheet music before shifting in his spot. The young man made a small sound... It was a sudden shift in heat towards his nether regions. He was no stranger to these feelings. It did not take him long to find the source of this sudden arousal, either. The violin on his lap was the culprit. A heavy sigh escaped his nostrils and he pressed the instrument down harder against him, which gave another pleasurable rush of heat below his stomach.

It was good that there was no one else in the house. He was alone...all alone. With the added pressure of the pushes, he started to move his hips back and forth and the instrument from side to side. There was not anything wrong with this practice, either...

The violin was no stranger to his affections. Of course, there was a rubber glove, an umbrella, and a jar of cold cream that the viciously assaulted daily...but the violin was special. Very, very special...

Toshinori almost leaped out of his chair with a strong grip on the neck of the violin and the bow as he rushed upstairs towards his room. He opened the door and let it shut by itself while he threw himself on the bed and resumed with the movements against his groin. He looked down at the desk drawer which held his other toys, and he shifted over so that he was on his stomach and that the violin was held captive beneath his hips as he started to thrust against the stringed instrument. The young man continued this for a length of time before he stopped and released his breath.

It felt strange to not feel anything against his torso, but so much below. The bow that was unceremoniously cast to the side caught his eye, and he flew up and opened the topmost drawer that he could reach. Toshinori dug through the mess until he found a roll of duct tape; a devious smile flitted across his lips as it was forced apart with a loud noise and a tear. He grabbed the bow and placed it next to the uppermost spot of the neck and taped the two together. The unfortunate object of his affections was placed, almost lovingly onto the pillow as he undid his belt and pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees. His grin widened as he fell back onto his stomach and rested his cheek against the cool wood and horsehair of the bow. His hips resumed their work against the black edges of the strings. It brought great pressure and pleasure as time went on, despite the discomfort of accidentally poking his hip bones along the pointed edges of the dipped curvature. His eyes shut as flashes of thoughts, faces and even music rapidly flashed through his stressed mind. Toshinori held his breath and a light, but croaky sound escaped his throat when he was having difficulties.

This strange and perverse display of testosterone-laced humping went on for an absurd amount of time before he finally released his breath and felt a wave of euphoria overtake his senses.

"Kaz-...Keita!" His voice was strained, as if he had been strangled. The young man's eyes dilated, widened, and then crossed.

Toshinori lay there, collecting his heavy breaths and eventually sat up.

He stared down at the curved and straight red impressions that the violin had created, and then widened his eyes. The wooden bridge that supported the ends of the strings into the smaller, circular tuning circles was broken. Not dislodged...but broken. They would have to get it repaired. Toshinori could tell his parents that he practiced hard, which was true.

But now, he wished that the repair-person would have a horrible sense of smell.