A/N: I'm surprised at how much everyone seems to be enjoying this fanfic! o.o More importantly, I'm surprised there are this many Junjou Romantica fans on ... XD Anyways, enjoy chapter 3. I'll be getting to the plot soon enough... Hopefully... After more AkihikoxMisaki fluff n' stuff... XP
Tainted
Chapter 3
Usagi watched as the teenager fumed, glaring at him with hatred. "Yes. Is something wrong?"
"What kind of prank do you think you're pulling?" Misaki asked angrily, slamming the book down on the coffee table. "With my brother, you've been having all these… these… these fantasies, which are completely and utterly insane—"
"You don't have to worry about me acting on them," Usagi said simply, smiling lightly. Misaki's overreactions were adorable.
"You'd better not!" Misaki growled. "I won't let you touch a single hair on nii-chan's head—"
"You'll fill in for Takahiro, then?" Usagi asked, smiling knowingly. "Misaki."
Misaki gritted his teeth, obviously angry. "I most certainly will not, you perverted old man!"
"I'm only ten years older," Usagi pointed out.
Misaki gritted his teeth. "Do you think I'm stupid? Just because the age on your drivers license says you're 28 doesn't make you—"
Usagi shrugged, blowing the teen off. "Ah, details, details. It's not like a few years of age difference hurt anyone."
"How old are you?" Misaki growled dangerously. "A 'few years' is limited to maybe five."
"Somewhere around three hundred and eighty…" Akihiko said absent-mindedly. "After a while, you lose count."
Misaki stared at him blankly. "You're kidding me," the teen muttered.
Akihiko felt a smirk creep onto his face despite himself. "Hm… I look good for my age, huh Misaki?"
Misaki frowned at him, his grip on the boys' love novel tightening. "Perverted Usagi—"
Akihiko chuckled as Misaki continued to hurl insults at him, as well as more copies of his last Takahiro novel. Eventually, Misaki tired himself out (it might have had something to do with somehow managing to throw the bedside table clear across the room at the demon when he attempted to get himself a good-morning kiss, as well as the thrashing and kicking that lasted for an hour and a half when Usagi decided he'd prefer something more "physical").
Misaki, now exhausted and out like a log, was breathing lightly, his body still flushed from their 'activities'. Akihiko made himself comfortable next to Misaki, sipping on a cup of coffee. He didn't know how to work most of the appliances in his kitchen other than the microwave and the coffee maker (even then, for some reason, his coffee was always way too strong and rather on the bitter side, and things often set themselves on fire in the microwave, though that might just be his luck).
He took this chance to watch Misaki's sleeping face. The teen seemed somewhat moody and stubborn, but when he slept, he looked innocent and open. He distractedly pushed some pair out of Misaki's face, and jumped a little when those ocean-green eyes opened sleepily.
He laughed when Misaki glared at him crossly, muttering insults under his breath, still too exhausted to move (and probably in pain, considering Akihiko had been rather… what was the word… impatient).
The teen gritted his teeth and sat up. Those beautiful, strange eyes were full of fire. Akihiko found it alluring, and gave Misaki a quick peck on the lips before the college student could react. He stood up, stretching out, watching in amusement as Misaki sputtered, turning an interesting shade of red and wiping his mouth off, as if it could erase what had just happened.
Akihiko dressed, already vaguely putting a story together in his head… Plot, setting, and, most importantly, characters.
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Akihiko finished typing up his latest story, feeling completely refreshed. It wasn't what he had been contracted to write, true (he'd been told to write a novel, this one non-boys'-love, about a first love), but he'd enjoyed himself. Besides. Being one day (or, in the case he was in, a week) behind schedule never hurt anyone.
Cracking his knuckles as he returned to the bedroom, he was surprised to see that Misaki was still on the bed. And looking none too happy.
"Misaki? What are you still doing there?"
"I can't move," Misaki growled, "thanks to your damn—ow, DAMNIT—" Misaki had attempted to stand, and his legs had promptly given out on him, and he collapsed back on the mattress. "Thanks to your damn sex drive," Misaki finished, wincing again.
Akihiko's eyebrows knitted together. He'd thought he'd been gentle with Misaki… Then again, Misaki HAD been a virgin until just last night.... Maybe he hadn't been careful enough.
He sat down on the side of the bed, reaching over, putting a hand on Misaki's shoulder. "Does it hurt?"
"If it didn't, I'd be walking, wouldn't I?" Misaki asked dryly. "Idiot."
Akihiko admitted mentally that Misaki had a point… "You haven't eaten all day, then," he shrugged. "You must be hungry."
Misaki didn't reply, but as if on cue, his stomach growled. The youth blushed heavily, and Akihiko laughed in spite of himself. "Shut up," Misaki grumbled.
Akihiko knelt down next to Misaki, and picked him up easily, bridal-style, and ignored the student's yelling and threats, carrying him easily down to the living room. He set Misaki down on the couch gently, and went into the kitchen. He found some leftovers from the last delivery he'd ordered (he couldn't even remember how long ago that had been – three, maybe four days? Oh well, it should still be good), and popped it into the microwave. The tinfoil around it should make it heat up quicker, right?
He pressed on, and went back to Misaki, who was now in a more comfortable position, holding a hand to his lower back and looking irritated. "I hope you don't mind leftovers."
"As long as you don't drug me, you pervert," Misaki grumbled.
There was a loud, electrical-like sound. Akihiko looked towards the microwave, and Misaki stared at him. "What was that?"
"The microwave's on fire," Akihiko said easily.
Misaki's eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet, running to the microwave and throwing the flaming, tinfoil-wrapped (and now inedible) food into the sink, turning the sink on full blast. After a few seconds, the fire was out.
"You idiot," Misaki panted, breathing heavily. "You don't put tinfoil in the microwave!"
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Akihiko watched as Misaki made himself comfortable on the bed, using one of his bears, Suzuki-san, as a makeshift pillow. He'd somehow talked Misaki into sleeping on the bed. Of course, he hadn't informed Misaki that he planned to be sleeping there, as well. And didn't plan on telling him, either. That would only create havoc. After all, his stubborn little Misaki was sure to threaten to throw himself off the nearest skyscraper rather than share a bed with the novelist.
He pretended to be busy at work, typing away on his laptop, leaning against one of the large mountains of stuffed bears and other toys that dominated his room. Misaki seemed to know better than to question Akihiko's strange taste. Either that, or he just didn't want to know. Soon enough, he heard the deep, even breathing that told him Misaki was asleep, as well.
He closed his laptop after sending his newest 'creation' – something he'd decided to call 'Pure Love Romantica' – to Aikawa. Knowing her, she'd eat it up and find the first publishing company willing to buy it in a few hours after she'd finished reading it.
It had been a long time since he'd been inspired enough to write an entire book in a day. It was as if the words had written themselves. Misaki's character was easy to understand, easy to read, but still deep and interesting. Though he wasn't satisfied with how he'd captured it. He wouldn't stop until he had captured Misaki's essence in his books… After all, he already knew there would be no stopping at just one book. No matter how much Misaki complained.
He joined his newfound lover in bed, pulling the still sleeping boy against his chest. Misaki made a sleepy grumbling noise, but didn't move away. Akihiko took that as a sign that Misaki was beginning to – even just a little – accept him.
At least it's a step somewhere, he thought as he tucked Misaki's head under his chin, his senses full of Misaki. His scent, his body pressed against his chest, the memory of Misaki's taste still on his tongue, the sound of Misaki's even breathing, his eyes taking in his sleeping form…
Misaki would be his. He wouldn't stop until even Misaki admitted that he belonged to him.
Though they had only known one another for a short amount of time, he felt as if he'd known Misaki for years. As if they had met somewhere before… Then again, maybe it was nothing. After all, Misaki was Takahiro's brother.
That was probably it. Because he was related to Takahiro, and nothing else…
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Misaki coughed heavily, clutching the edge of the bathtub. He was pale... too pale. Usagi walked towards him from behind. "Misaki?"
Misaki coughed violently again, clutching desperately at the side of the tub. Usagi heard the sickening sound of thick liquid hitting the bottom of the tub. Was Misaki sick? After a pause, Misaki glanced back at Usagi. He saw the teen's fists were clenched, his knuckles white. "Usagi-san," he whispered, turning back to the tub again. "Go away. I don't want you to see me like this."
Usagi walked closer, intent on helping his lover. The poor kid had to have been sick for days.
Misaki wretched, bent over the basin, his small frame shaking from exhaustion. Usagi's eyebrows knitted together in concern as he finally reached his lover's side. Misaki was limp, breathing heavily and supporting himself against the wall and bath.
Red was dripping from the corners of Misaki's mouth onto the white tile beneath him, joining a larger puddle that had already gathered. Usagi's eyes widened as he realized that Misaki was bleeding. "Misaki… God, I'll call an ambulance—"
"Usagi-san," Misaki breathed. "They won't find anything wrong with me. It's not a human illness." Misaki wretched again, and more of the boy's precious blood fell onto the floor of Usagi's bathroom. Usagi's eyes widened in horror as Misaki slumped forward, his eyes rolling back into his head, and blood continued to flow from his mouth.
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Usagi shot up in a cold sweat, panting. He looked down at the boy next to him, sleeping soundly and heavily, exhausted. He gently laid a hand on Misaki's cheek, and jumped a little when Misaki moved his head into the touch for a brief moment.
He brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Misaki's face, taking in every perfect detail of Misaki's face, and spent the rest of the night watching the teenager, gently petting his hair away from his face.