Title: Bound
Blood Type: Oatmeal Chocolate Chip
Disclaimer: Gravitation is not owned by me in any way, shape or form. But I have to obey it. Because it's the law.
Warnings: Um. Slight S&M theme. Bad words.
Author's Notes: This was written as a non-denominational, non-holiday holiday gift for HawkClowd. Merry Day!
Looking back on it, maybe it would have been better if he had confirmed his sources. He should have known better than to trust the doorman. What did they know anyway? It was supposed to have been so easy – steal Eiri's apartment in Tokyo for the weekend and invite Ryuichi over. Although things hadn't worked out that way, Tatsuha had to admit the leather really did look good on him, even if it was beginning to itch a bit due to the fact –
"I will ask you again: What. Do. You. Think. You. Were. Doing." Eiri's cigarette dropped ash onto the hardwood floor, glowing brightly for a brief moment before turning grey, his scowl deepening.
Tatsuha's head snapped up and he glared at his brother. "I thought you were out of town! The doorman said--"
"This building doesn't have a doorman and that doesn't answer my aforementioned question."
Didn't have a – fuck. He had paid that 'doorman' a good 2000 yen for that information! Fuck. There was no way that Eiri was just going to let the matter drop; he was going to have to explain. "I was going to invite Ryuichi over and –"
"In a corset?"
Tatsuha fingered the hook and eye clasps that bound the leather to him. "Well, the store clerk said…"
"You asked for help."
"Well…yes. How else was I supposed to figure out my measurements?" Tatsuha crossed his arms and glowered at his brother.
"I don't really care," Eiri said, stabbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table.
This was all Shuichi's fault. He'd opened his big mouth about his dream with the futon and the whip and the thong. Tatsuha's mind had immediately run rampant – leather pants replacing the thong, of course – and …Shuichi's fault. Brilliant. Inspired. A scapegoat was exactly what he needed!
"But Shuichi's the one who told me about his stupid dream in the first place. You should be blaming him!"
"The Brat is too stupid to know any better."
Eiri paused, as if deep in thought. This was trouble. Big, big trouble.
"Aniki…"
"I wonder what our father would say. Especially if he found out that you skipped out of your weekend duties to dress up like a dominatrix for your male lover who is…" Eiri made a big show out of ticking off the years on his fingers. "Fifteen years older than you."
"You wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't I?" Eiri retorted with a malicious smirk. "But I think that instead I'd much rather not go to my next five book signings."
"In return for which…?" Tatsuha asked sullenly. Becoming Eiri would mean bleaching his hair and risking their father shaving his head in his sleep. Just like the last time he had done it at that stupid cooking show.
"In return for which I say nothing about this and you never presume to think that you can use my apartment for your little forays into the world of S and M. Ever. Again."
"Deal," Tatsuha sighed. He was going to regret this. Very, very much. He'd seen Eiri at those book signings; the women were practically feral.
"You chose wisely," Eiri said with a final smirk. "I suppose I should work on my next bestseller; I wouldn't want you to disappoint my loyal fans," he finished over his shoulder, heading for his office.
"You could at least help me get the boots off!" Tatsuha yelled at his brother's retreating back; the heels were killer on his feet. Sometimes his brother was such a dick. Dick. Thanks to his idiot brother, he wouldn't be getting any of that now.