A/N: New Updates! For fans of SyoxHaruka. Thoguh please don't get angry at the dark themes of this story. I am exploring evil sides of our Uta-Pri characters, and this is part of the experiment. The stories may be a bit confusing to some, I could only edit and amend it as best as I could. I don't know why my brain acts this way. So any bashing on the one-shot, I am asking for forgiveness in advance for spoiling your reading pleasure. I will amend as I see fit, in the future.
I hope you forgive my grammar and spelling mistakes. Enjoy reading.
The Price of Hardcore
(Syo Kurusu's POV)
I noticed her delicate wrists first before anything else. The white electric guitar she was holding, looked too heavy for her fragile wrists. The combination of that delicate part of anatomy and the guitar looked farfetched, as if there was something wrong with the image presented before me.
For a few minutes, I watched her strummed the strings of the instrument, making the guitar cry and beg for more with the expert flick of that same delicate wrist.
I never thought I'd change my
Opinion again
But you moved me in a way that I've
Never known
You moved me in a way that I've
Never known
I changed my mind right then and there. Her wrist, including the hand attached to it, and the guitar were made with for each other.
Staring too long at that part of her anatomy made me curious what kind of face the owner has. I looked up and saw she has short reddish gold hair, cut to a sleek and shiny chin length. I gave a quirky grin when I saw her hair parted sideways, and underneath it, she shaved one part of her left head entirely and colored the short strands with gold highlights.
Very funky. But that's not all.
She was standing not far away from me so I can entirely appreciate her profile: cute button nose, a silver nose ring, full, pouty lips colored with red lipstick that could stop traffic. When she turned her head to face me, I almost gave a gasp when I saw half of her face was tattooed with light lavender and silver color of a scaly dragon.
The face and its forked tongue was drawn near the corners of her scarlet mouth as if the dragon was about to gift her with a tongued, wet kiss. It's scaly, bearded face and head covered her left cheek completely. While its neck, and body ran from the side of her slender, white neck, down to her shoulders and part of her collarbone, continuing down the inside of her black t-shirt.
"I bet you a thousand bucks, one of the claws is cupping her left breast. " someone whispered to my ear, the awe and admiration unmistakable in its tone.
I probably nodded in agreement.
The Pink Flamingo is a popular hang out by the hip students of several universities dotting downtown Westbridge. The whole street where it was located is a famous watering hole for students and yuppies alike who also live and work in the area. The proprietor likes to invite local bands to play every Friday and Saturday night. While most of the bands were amateur bands trying to break into the music business, there are some regular players who were already underground cult favorites with and even have their own local fan club.
The girl with the white guitar turned out to be the only female of her own band called Paradoxical. And they were in town to play for a few weeks before moving on to their next destination. The lead singer is chummies with the club's owner.
Her name was Haruka. Just Haruka.
And in the few nights I spend in the club, playing the same schedule with her own band, I gathered a few interesting facts about lovely Haruka: she smokes like a fire truck, drinks alcohol like there's no tomorrow and parties hard.
She looks angelic even with the face tattoo, but she swears like a sailor. I always wondered how she is in bed, as I stroke my own guitar's strings, watching her from afar. Would she be as potty-mouthed when I take her from behind? But I can only imagine her fingers stroking me as I lay in bed at night, thinking about her mouth planted firmly between my legs.
I was not alone in fantasizing about her. I noticed a lot of college men circled around her after her performance, trying to get into her personal space. But they have no success penetrating her bubble. I know her type. She's such a punk rock princess, cold and haughty, too proud of her talents. I envy her sometimes. I am not as talented as her when she plays the guitar, but I wish I could command the same control like her too. I spend too much time in the gym before, bulking up my physique and toning my muscles, that my hands became rough and my deftness with the stringed instrument was affected. My electric guitar can only do so much if the player's talents is limited. I was content with my own nightly performance alone, but watching her rip her instrument with gusto, I feel so inadequate.
As I brooded on my drink, I was thinking of ways to conquer the ice cold princess.
One night, a sophomore drank too hard and tried his luck.
She stood there, smoking cigarette after cigarette and drinking her own nth glass of vodka or J&B (no margaritas for this hardcore chick), when the college sophomore sauntered over to her in a drunken swagger and began talking to her.
At first, she just wrinkled her nose and moved away, pointedly ignoring him. But alcohol and stupidity shouldn't be combined in a glass, and the sophomore just kept pushing her to one corner, hoping for some quality time. The club was particularly crowded and every space is precious, as people around them continued chatting and debating on who should be next inducted in the Rock n' Roll hall of fame.
I kept a close eye on her, just in case, ready to punch the guy in the face when he gets too pushy. No one touches what is mine. But there was no need for my help.
When she had enough of his pushy attitude, she poured her remaining drinks on his head and punched him in the face.
"You fucking bitch!" the guy spat, took her arm, ready to shake her, when the bouncer immediately broke the fight, hauled him up and tossed him out in the back door.
Cheers erupted. Catcalls and wolf whistles punctured the loud music, as people high five her.
I was already halfway up my seat, when I saw her make short work of his nose. I could not help think that she should have been more careful with those fragile wrists and hands.
I normally don't talk to women like her, but she piqued my interest so much, I finally decided to approach her despite my initial avoidance.
She looked up at me, those molten gold eyes, dark like black gold. Her irises emitted an unusual gleam and I sensed she must have drunk quite a number of alcohol already. The dragon on her face seemed to mock at me, coolly, as if to say she's mine, back off.
"Here," I handed her my crumpled handkerchief. "You should take care of your wrists and hands more, or else you won't be able to play." I said, and then left, not caring whether she uses my handkerchief or not, irritated at myself for hating and liking her at the same time.
oOoOoOo
The next time I saw Haruka, I was getting the week's paycheck for my band. She was on the stage, in the middle of wrapping up their final song. I heard her sing the last part in that soft, growly voice of hers that I found strangely sexy. In the weeks since I started observing her, her voice seemed soothing amidst the cacophony of blaring sounds inside the club.
I was about to leave when I saw my handkerchief was wrapped around her injured hand.
I smiled to myself.
"Yo! Kurusu! I haven't seen you around!" a long time friend of mine whom I have last seen six years ago, caught me as I was about to leave and he bought me a few round of drinks. We talked for so long that I forgot about her. By the time I wrapped up the conversation with my long lost friend, she had already left for the night.
I turned up the collar of my coat and went home. As I walked up to the last steps of my apartment door, I knotted my forehead when I smelled her cigarettes.
As soon as I jiggled the keys inside the keyhole and went in, shutting the door with a kick of my boot-cladded feet, I saw a small dark figure sitting on the sofa.
"Thank goodness you're home." She sighed, taking a hit from her cigarette. She stood up and crushed the stub on the ashtray that I only used for decoration.
Walking towards me with catlike grace, she took my limp hands and whispered against my ear, "I'm glad you didn't bring anyone home. Otherwise, I wouldn't like to make a scene."
Licking her lips, she planted a sensual kiss on my mouth. I opened them in response, crushing her lips with mine, tasting the cigarettes she always favored, and hints of lemon-flavored vodka.
After that, there was no turning back. I have captured the elusive attention of the ice princess. As she unbuckled my belt and jostled my jeans down, I hissed sharply when she took me whole in her mouth. Dear Haruka is even more talented with her tongue when she stroke me inside her mouth. I groaned in pleasure, grabbing handfuls of her hair as I made a guttural sound like a wild animal.
I pulled her up sharply and she gave a small whimper of pain, as I took her mouth again savagely, biting her lower lip until I draw blood.
Sounds of tearing cloth punctured the silence of my room. Grabbing her small waist, I hauled her up and impaled her against my cock. Slamming her against the door, I fucked her until we both exploded.
oOoOoOoOo
I never really understand what kind of relationship we have. She has such a lovely voice and talented hands while I was only obsessed with her talents. At first. But now, it seems I am always hungry for her.
Every night in between our bands' gigs, we were both fucking our brains out inside the common toilets. And when we were caught and teased by our bandmates, we found ourselves having sex at the dark corners of the back alleys. And there amidst the pounding music, crates of empty beer bottles and other college couples who have the same idea, I took her hard and fast, loving the power and control I have over her, as I clamped her mouth with my rough hands, as her body shook with orgasm.
I felt a certain transformation occurring in me. Everytime we have sex, I find myself playing better than ever. My tunes are smoother, more controlled, and my guitar seems to acquire power.
It sounds crazy, but I beginning to suspect it was all because of the intimacy I shared with her.
oOoOoOoOo
"Syo!" Hideki, our band's manager called me over after our performance set finished. I was getting ready to leave, packing my guitar in its protective casing. Paradoxical band wasn't playing tonight, and I texted Haruka to wait for me at my apartment. Sex every night with her never tires me out, and she loved being used and abused by me.
"Man, I just had a talk with Kiyoshi", he started, referring to the Pink Flamingo's owner.
I leaned in to listen to what he is saying, my face darkening with growing anger.
oOoOoOoOo
I hurried home, a plan forming in my head. The rain started to pelt my coat as I let myself in the apartment, signaling the early arrival of a thunderstorm. As soon as the lock clicked in place, the rain poured outside, rendering my windows foggy. Anyone outside would be unable to see what would be going on inside. Not that I usually cared, but tonight, I needed to be careful.
Haruka was already sprawled on top of my bed, naked and waiting. I immediately stripped off my clothes and fingered her. She is wet and ready. I took her legs and tied them with leather straps that I tied underneath my bed. I watched her eyes turn dark with desire and arousal. She extended her hands to me, and I tied them on the bed post, spreading herself before me.
I wanted to indulge myself with her moist and heat, and I grabbed her head, shoveling my cock inside her willing mouth. She gave a protesting sound, but I ignored her, pumping in and out. I squeezed my eyes shut, when I exploded, pouring my seed down her throat.
Trailing kisses down her neck and chest (did I mention that the dragon did cupped her breast), I slid out a couple of piece of cloth and gagged her. Not suspecting anything, she leaned back and burrowed her head on the pillows, as I took her slowly, riding her. My hands stretched out and I took hold of her wrists for leverage.
I needed more. I needed more of her. Sex isn't enough. God, knows I tried so hard to keep the band going, and this woman with oozing talents shows up and ruined it all for me. Why the fuck does Paradoxical get the coveted job of playing regular for the next two years at the club, when we were busting our asses off for the past six months?
As I neared my climax, my hands went to her throat and squeezed. At first, she thought it was part of the act, and she did not resist. But after a few moments, she realized I intended to kill her.
But it was too late.
I let out a load moan of pleasure, pumping hard and exploding for the second time. I felt her body go limp and I released my tight hold on her throat.
Her golden eyes look glassy against the faint streetlight outside. I stood up and wiped myself with the discarded bedsheet. I went straight to the kitchen and took out a knife from one of the drawers. Shutting all the blinds on my windows, I noticed the cigarette she left on the ashtray. I took the stick and placed it on my mouth.
I stared down at her, steeling myself for the inevitable. I proceeded to hack her wrists away from her arms with my knife. Now her talent is mine.
oOoOoOoOo
"Kiyoshi decided to offer us a regular spot every Thursdays to Friday nights." Hideki said, giving out each member of my band with the contract for us to sign.
"Really? I thought Paradoxical is supposed to get the spot?" my drummer asked quizzically, tilting his head in wonder.
Hideki shook his head. "They backed out after Kiyoshi's offer. Their guitarist ran away with some college boy she met in the club."
They all looked at me apologetically. I held my hands up in surrender. "Hey! Not to worry, guys. I'm okay with it. Haruka's nice and all. But she's too much of a hardcore for me." I grinned.
My bandmates shrugged. "Whatever. You're too good for her anyway." My pianist replied, before scribbling down his signature on the contract and handing it to Kiyoshi.
I turned away, and glanced at the locked velvet box I placed on my dressing table. My luck has just turned. And it was all thanks to Haruka.
oOoOoOo
A/N: I've got nothing to say, except my brains are functioning on combinations of lack of sleep, stress, too much chocolate, Trinity Blood episodes and Silence of the Lamb marathon.
Reviews=love