Bittersweet
Pairing: Kurama/Botan.
Genre: Drama/Romance
Summary: ONE-SHOT: AU, His hands traveled to her knees and parted them and slowly she succumbed to him. "Now, my spice is all yours." Those were the last words she heard before falling into the hands of pleasure.
Disclaimer: I do not own YYH!
She would always be his favorite; she had a flavor of sweetness that mingled with a bitter after-taste.
That was his justification. In consequence of that fact, she was the one he favored over the other women. He was well-known of his womanizing actions and especially his promiscuous habits. That was Shuichi Minamino, a reckless animal whose hunger would never be satisfied. Yet, he was always fed well when he procrastinated with her, Botan Hanahime.
. . .
A familiar melody trickled into his ear drums and his lids flew open with alarm.
Emerald orbs traveled to an alarm clock that flashed glaring numbers. Four o' clock A.M. A groan began building in his chest and poured out his mouth, only to come out as a soft sigh. His hand reached over clumsily and grabbed the irritable device that would never give him a chance to rest. Everyday: calls, messages, and voice-mails over filled his cellphone.
But over the years he grew accustomed with the ringtone going off at anytime of the day, or night. He didn't bother to check the caller ID.
"Hello," he cringed slightly as his voice croaked. He never enjoyed waking up in the morning with aftermath of slumbering. Over the other line he could hear a woman's voice that seemed disheartened.
"Where were you yesterday and who were you with?"
Ah, Maya Kitajima. She was quite the woman. Where ever she went, many eyes followed. He heard the tinge of jealousy as she spoke, in spite that she attempted to conceal her voice of any evidence of envy. She may have been attractive, but she was very possessive of him. It was irritable. Ah well, he had his fun with her when he chose to. One thing he loved was teasing her. Maya was sensitive.
She knew all too well that he refused to have any relationship, but he could always see through her eyes. All the woman he slept with knew they could never have him. They only agreed to have this 'intimate' affair where friends had benefits. Women paid him and he gave them more than what they came for, although he never thought it was fair.
A chuckle teased its way passed his lips, but he bit his tongue and coated his voice with sugar that he knew always got them excited. Excuses quickly occurred to his head and he began using it on her.
He repeated over-used words to the brown-haired woman and she believed every word.
. . .
"I want to meet you in person and have a talk." He purred, voice enticing, into the cell phone.
There was silence on the other side. He was considerably a hypocrite. He may love teasing his lovers, but he hated being teased with. That's just what Botan did to him, but another reason he'd choose her. She was different from others. He knew women and their weaknesses, but not hers. It's what made things heated, things exciting.
"I'm busy," her simple reply was all it took for his lips to twitch into a smirk. He didn't have to force out a laugh that was already disturbing his chest.
"Cute, very cute." He choked out after laughing for short seconds. "Nice try with that excuse—"
She didn't give him time to finish his sentence, "Oh, and it's not like you give them excuses either?" she wasn't jealous, he knew, she knew. Instead he laughed harder than before.
"I love you, you know that?" he attempted to play nicely with her but she was not falling for stupid tricks up his sleeves. Botan snorted.
"This is merely a game, Minamino." It was an endless labyrinth with no escape, but for her she saw easy ways out. Even the forgotten crevices were advantages to a freedom. But there was no way out of his grasp. Once inside, held down forever.
He frowned now. She knew him all too well that is was boring. "It may be true, but you're mine for tonight." The line cut and he sat there, phone in hand. She was a frustrating feline to hold on to. No matter how much he tried all he could get from her was pleasure. When he had taken her maidenhead for the first time he knew she was different. Of course every women was different in their own way, but she was unique.
He could still remember their first night together. It had hurt her yes, but that was the beginning of their passion. He sank into his seat and growled, still able to feel her nails digging into the skin of his back that was adorned with crystals of sweat.
The taste in the air was incomparable to other times when he had slept with women when it was their first experience. He blinked away the memory and smirked slowly.
"In a love game, the one who falls first is the loser, right?"
. . .
"Come on now, it's not your first time."
A breath left her lips, fingers curling into his sheets. His fingers teasingly, but surely sank into her. He breathed into the shell of her ear and she shuddered, hips bucking. Her eyes glowered with anger, but quickly swept away as he stroked inside her. His digits prodded until a familiar substance secreted through her walls.
He pulled out his fingers and smiled in pride. They were thinly coated with a piquant aroma. He had done a good job pleasing her. "Now, for the real show." Before he could invade her tonight Botan held him back. His excitement fell just as quickly as it rose. He pouted a childish pout that usually made her smile. "Why stop?"
"You don't know a thing about love, yet you're perfectly happy that way."
For the first time in years since she has slept with him she seemed worried. She barely worried about becoming impregnated even if he insisted on putting away the condom. But for once, just once, she was concerned with his love life. The very corners of his lips pulled up and he burst into laughter.
Botan must have been playing a joke on him or something of that sort. When he wanted her she let him have her for a night or two.
She was his; his playmate, his sex friend, his lover, and he made sure it would get through her head that they were nothing more, although he'd let a quick jest and say he loved her every once in a while just to rile her up.
Of course she was intelligent enough to understand that she would never be in a genuine relationship with him, so she didn't fight for him. He claimed it was for fun that they had this game, but she was just a player who was dragged into it. She didn't love him, and it was simple to understand.
She was different from the other women, completely different. That was why he rather exhaust himself with Botan than anyone else. He'd say he was more 'serious' with her while the others were his players of chess. Each player he took down were the ones he grew uninterested with, but she was his queen beside him.
She would never escape him and he liked it just that way. His "I love you"s and "You're my only" had no effect on Botan, because she was the only one who understood that she'd never become his permanent lover. She was the only one to know that this meant nothing.
That was why she thought his other contestants were stupid to believe he'd actually love them. She would be honest and admit that she pitied those women whose heart were ruthlessly broken by such a monster whose belief in love was barely an existing thread.
He was quite curious when it came to his favorite. She was a puzzle that even the greatest detectives could never find answers to; she was a lock that had no key to open with; she was his thoughts, his dreams, his fantasies, his topic he'd brag of.
A question occurred to him: why was she still his lover when she didn't chase after him, like others? Why didn't she try to make him notice her? It was because she was already noticed.
His eyes collided with hers and a smile painted on his lips, a smile that held lust. "I never see affectionate love as something necessary, since passion is so much easier, isn't it?"
"That's what you believe, Minamino, but you don't know whose heart you're breaking when it comes to this stupid game of yours." Before he could take further actions on her Botan sat up and began gathering her clothes. "I know I can't back down, now that I'm already part of it, but I can't play this anymore. I hope it will come to you before it's too late, before you hurt yourself."
She left, taking her warmth, not even letting him have his pleasure.
. . .
A good solid month of solitary from Botan had passed.
He would be honest and say he didn't think he would be able to survive even a damned month without having to bed her. In that case he found himself being called ridiculous...by none other than himself. He still went around, playing with his other interests. He wasn't able to satisfy his need with a dozen of other women, though.
They were not Botan, they were not her. Different they may have been, but they all shared an equivalence: they desired him more than they were supposed to. Having them cling to him was already enough to handle, especially since his favorite pet was avoiding him purposely. It irritated him to the marrow that it didn't feel right without having to have sex with her at least once every few weeks.
He smirked, assuming she was just playing around. She would come running to him, but she wasn't that type. Whenever she was available he'd call for her when his libido was over the bar. Only he would call her, not her, and it was normal. Right now was the time he would be demanding her to visit him for a 'cup of tea and cake'.
A laugh wasn't helped and slithered out his lips.
He awaited, not anticipated, but awaited for the day to come when Botan would finally break and become one of the others. It would be no fun if she fell into his trap, just as the others had. But until that day had come he was taking advantage of her as much as possible.
If he was ever honest and admit that he had a fear, then he'd claim that he was afraid she would turn and become like the rest of the flock. He had hoped and even wished that she forever would remain as she was. He'd enjoy nothing more than that.
And so he continued with his favorite leisure with women.
. . .
In the damned middle of bedding a woman Botan came to his thoughts.
Just the simple thought of her smile had overwhelmed him. His thoughts advanced from a simple facial expression to her bare body and bedding her instead. He could hear her moans, her cries, and her warmth. He felt more pleasure than he had ever felt before.
And before warning he had released himself earlier then usual. The woman squealed, startled at how fast he had come to his peak. He cursed under his breath and had quickly apologized to her. Apparently this had excited her even more that the great womanizer, Shuichi Minamino, was even able to become the minor sex partner, or also refereed to as the over-dominated one, the one who controlled.
He had made the mistake of thinking about Botan, because now this particular woman would not leave him alone and stop teasing him about it.
. . .
My habitual
Procrastination remains,
For pleasure is brief.
His pencil glided smoothly over the paper with ease. Boredom had taken over him mentally and he sat, lazily, while writing a poem.
He was not the poetic kind of man, but he had reminded himself how much she had adored poems. He remembered how she would read her favorite poems to him at times when he desired her presence only, and not her body. He's called for her before, just so he could waste his time with her. Those were the rare times when he decided not to sleep with her.
He didn't want to refer to it as a date, but rather just a little friendly rendezvous, without the sexual longing. Again he didn't favor poetry, but if it was from Botan, then he'd give it a chance. Poetry with his preferred choice of lover was an exception he would make happen.
Just before he would pull her to sleep, literally to slumber and not involve in any sexual acts, at late hours in the night he would ask her to read him one more poem. These were his bed time stories and her voice was his lullaby. The rhythmic strumming of her vocals and rolling of her tongue lulled him to sleep. He especially adored her singing. Her melodious and rich singing was all he would ever listen to if he could.
In his dreams he'd dream of the poem. It would come to life and he would become the poem. He never enjoyed waking from his dreams, but if it was the morning where he'd wake to find Botan gently breathing beside him then he didn't mind waking.
Her silky hair would fan out on the pillow and the morning sun's finger would cast on her azure locks. It'd shine to its greatest and he would dare to glide his hands in them. What he loved most of the morning was waking to see her eyes flutter open and see her eyes.
They were priceless jewels that he could gaze into deeply, for an eternity. His adventures laid in those gems. He could go on for periods of time to describe the fairness and sentiment that glimmered in her eyes. His fantasy had run off from the innocence of her voice to her eyes. His chain of thoughts had gone to focus on her features, and they changed to a poem.
Her silky hair cascades,
Her lustrous eyes, jewels,
Her sweet lips pucker,
Her slender neck, smooth,
Her delicate shoulders rise,
Her dainty hands, gentle,
Her supple breast peak,
Her voluptuous waist, curved,
Her kissable stomach shifts,
Her wide hips, full,
Her delicious thighs tremble
Her regions beyond her thighs, swollen,
Her small back arches,
Her derriere, firm,
Her voice moans,
Her movements, skilled,
Her ivory skin glistens,
Her pulchritude, eternal,
Her body, a temple,
Her soul, my possession.
His pencil dropped out from his trembling hand and he repeatedly ran his hands through his red hair. The palms of his hands had secreted sweat and tousled his red hair. She had come alive from this simple poem. She was lively and more beautiful than he imagined, than he remembered. He could almost feel her lips, almost hear her whispers, almost feel the content.
A moan left his lips as a familiar burning knot began growing in his abdomen. He had gotten carried away and only had himself to blame. Anger mixed with ecstasy. He didn't know whether to give into pleasure of touching himself while consuming his own fantasies about Botan, or push it away and leave himself unsatisfied for another night. He's done it many times before, to be honest. But this was a different situation. He needed her more than he usually would, and it scared him.
What was his true thoughts about her? He would never admit that he was in love with a bedding partner. He didn't love and everyone knew that. He should have knew this more well than any one else, yet he began doubting his own claim.
The words of the poem wrapped around him and carved deeply into his mind; it burned perfectly. He would remember each word by word, feel each sensation, see each beauty, hear each tone, taste each flavor, and smell each scent. He lay still on his bed, staring at the paper with inscribed words of his new guilty pleasure and prized work. The knot refused to disappear and he scowled.
The words were memorized to perfection.
. . .
This continuation of emptiness and irritation lasted.
No fulfillment, no frenzy, no paradise. He was beginning to think that dark circles were forming under his eyes. Lately he hasn't been able to sleep solid hours of the night. Most likely it was due to staying up at night, skimming through books he never bothered to read or barely touched.
And to complete his insanity (his sanity had disappeared long ago) he found it enjoyable to read novels. He didn't think that he would relish in reading Naomi and The Tale of Genji. The Tale of Genji may have been an extremely lengthy novel, but within two months he had finished it. During his past time that was all he did, which had caused some of his lovers to become angry with him.
His frustration had gotten the best of him and he turned to reading to distract the stress that was slowly creeping into him. Keeping track of the months that had passed without any contact with Botan had already become a small habit, too. Precisely five months, two weeks, and four days had passed. That was nearly half a year.
Recently he was becoming paranoid with the long isolation away from Botan. However, he has been preoccupied sleeping with other women, although his habitual sex days were decreasing by the months. He didn't know if it was good or bad, rather he didn't acknowledge it at all.
His eyes froze at the TV of uninteresting channels. He didn't change it. He didn't move. The device beside him vibrated and rang loudly, demanding attention. Glancing lazily at his phone he still sat, no motion presence. After the sixth ring he sank into the couch and picked it up.
"What?" his voice was sharp and was coated with an irritant tone.
"Jeez, you sound as if you hadn't slept in days. Are you okay?"
"No, Aiko was crabby this morning and she scratched me." The feline kitten was now slumbering on his lap. Along his forearm was a scabbing cut that was four centimeters long. "What do you want?" and recently he has become more grumpy these passing days. He doesn't exactly know why, but some of his lovers joke around saying maybe it's because he isn't having sex more often.
He had actually taken the tease seriously, and went back to his sex days.
. . .
"What's wrong?"
Since the last time he saw Botan her words still echoed in his ears. They wouldn't go away, no matter how many women he slept with to attempt to distract him. He sighed and looked long at the woman below him. He'd never believe he would actually say this, if he did, it wouldn't have been until million years later.
"I'm no good for you, Shizuru." A small, yet sad smile hung on his lips. "Find a man who can make you happy, not a man who brings you happiness through... this." His lips brushed over the woman's forehead with gentleness.
And for once he saw a woman cry tears of joy.
. . .
He never marveled at true beauty before.
Perhaps he was breaking, slowly decaying inside. A frown made its way to his lips at that thought and he quickly pushed it away. His eyes traveled back to the bouquet of roses. These flowers were quite beautiful, yet delicate. Before his eyes he could see her body forming from the stems.
A rose was full of life and graceful, but thorns had been the reason he shunned away from them for so long. He hated roses, but now he had a strange feeling that he could stare at them all day. He'd pick the petals and scatter them in a tub of water. He'd scatter them on her body just for looks and aroma.
Its velvet touch reminded him of her skin. The way how her porcelain surface felt under his dancing fingers and the feel of threading his hand into her cascade of azure hair. He would never get enough of her, nor from her. He'd want their night to last forever, not until the sun rose.
Her lips drew into his mind and he could almost feel them kissing him tenderly. Again, indulging himself with thoughts of her was not unusual, but thoughts like these weren't the first, either. He jerked when a burning sensation began to tangle at his stomach. He fell back on his bed and imagined she would be sleeping there in his arms.
"Damn," he cringed, back hunching and curling up with his blankets barely covering his body.
. . .
"Say cheese!"
"Stop," his voice dripped of annoyance.
"Oh, come on! Let's have fun!" she urged and pulled, but he didn't budge from his seat. "Please, I called you on a date for a reason."
"But we aren't dating."
"Then why did you come?"
When he fell silent he knew she won this round. He watched her eyes light with delight as she gawked at the priceless dresses and jewelry. A small laugh made its way passed his lips, but it immediately stopped when she turned around and met their lips. People rudely stared in awe, but quickly turned away when he pushed her down.
"Why'd you stop?" she whined. He brushed her brown bangs away from her brown eyes in almost a loving way. She pressed into his hand, but he pulled away.
"Go home Maya." And he kissed her one last time before returning her ring.
. . .
She frowned and turned away before he could see.
But he caught her eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He spoke with honesty and wiped away her tear.
"I'm sorry," she glanced up at his emerald eyes that was filled with sadness. She whimpered.
"No, I'm sorry, Yukina." His warm hand caressed her face and he turned away, not looking back.
. . .
"Why would you choose me?"
Keiko blinked once and laughed. "Funny," when he rolled her eyes she pursed her lips. "Are you done talking?"
"Are you done with me?" he took notice at how her eyes narrowed. He must have pulled the trigger.
"No, I will never be." She pushed him down with force and climbed on him. "You know it well." She wasn't able to capture his lips when he held her away. "I'm serious." And she glared at him.
"So am I," he left her with apologetic eyes that made her stare after him in awe.
. . .
Old habits died hard.
He'd rather not go back to all those women, but there was a particular one that left him first. She was the one who started the end of this game and he was the last to escape from his own trap. Letting them go was not simple. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling for an eternity. How had he gotten into this mess? It was a past he wouldn't want to enter again.
His eyes traveled to an empty flower vase that sat on his shelf.
. . .
"Hello, sir, how can I help you?"
He stared at the roses. "I want a bouquet of these, a big bouquet." He placed down the bill of money on the counter and met eyes with the cash-register. The man smiled uneasily.
"Um, will that be all?"
"Yes," his blunt voice made the man wince.
"And who will you address this to?"
He stayed silent for a moment, as if pondering who to choose. "Botan Hanahime." A slip of paper was passed to the cash-register with her information. "Don't say who it's from."
He left before the man had time to ask that question.
. . .
"Are you Botan Hanahime?"
The azure-headed woman stood at her front door, with a man holding a large bouquet of roses blocking his face. She was stunned and puzzled on how to reply and what to ask. Who would send her flowers this early in the morning? She finally found her voice after gazing at the flowers.
"Y-yes,"
"Well, don't bother asking me who these were from, he didn't say who he was. Just gave us a paper with your information on it and left." The man bowed once released of the burden of carrying the bouquet. "Mysterious alright, but guess that's what makes the purpose of a secret admirer." He grinned and left after she thanked him.
"Wait!" she called out.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"How did he look like?"
He could see on her face that she had wanted to know. He pitied her and shrugged. "Well he was average height, tall as me I suppose, emerald eyes and red hair. He seemed a bit impassive when arriving, but for some reason had a sad look in his eyes." When realizing he had blurted the last part out he blushed and apologized. "I'll be going then, ma'am!"
Botan was left to stand there. The roses dropped from her arms and she never thought she would cry for him.
. . .
He was shocked to see her calling him.
He didn't know if he should answer or not, but each ring pounded into his ears and he answered reluctantly. "Hello?"
There was no reply for a moment. Before he could shut his phone, assuming she accidentally called him he heard her voice. It was hoarse, sounding as if she had cried for hours.
"You sent those didn't you?"
His lips thinned. "And if I did?"
"Stop doing this, Minamino! I'm not your doll to play with!" anger rose in her voice and he just sat there. "I'm done with this."
He growled and shut his phone, rushing out of his room. Hastily he slipped his feet into his shoes and grabbed his motorcycle keys. This wait was going on too long. He wasn't going to hold himself back anymore.
The motorcycle sped past cars with wind rushing and running in his jacket. The vehicle came to a screeching halt and he rushed to the house. It was quiet in this neighborhood at night. The coolness created clouds of breath as he sighed. He didn't want to put up with being patient. Patience wasn't his friend and it was already gone.
He ran to the side of the house and stared up at the tree. He grasped at a branch and began to swiftly climb. Her balcony came into view and it was open like it usually was. A breath left his lips and he made a small jump. He landed right onto her small balcony, causing her to snap around. A gasp left her lips as she stared at the man before her.
"What are you doing here?!"
He quickly jumped in and shut the doors. "Who ever said I was playing?"
She flinched when she heard the lock being turned and click surely. Botan dashed to her door, but he was faster and blocked her escape. In this coincidence she felt her blood boil with rage.
"Get out—" immediately the lights were shut off and a small yelp heard from her.
He grasped her wrist and yanked her to him. His lips met hers for the first time in months since he last saw her. It felt wonderful. He could taste the sparks, her flavor. Oh, her bittersweet flavor he had missed so much. "I'm tired of this just as much as you are. Now you're mine, my woman, my love." He said against her lips in the darkness. He kissed her again and he felt her tears.
"How do I know if you aren't just doing this, like to the others?"
"I suppose this wasn't enough proof." His hand slipped up behind her shirt and she shuddered. Botan attempted to stop him, but he wouldn't be refused. She was right, he had to stop before he hurt himself, but it all ready happened to him from the beginning. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."
"What about the other women?" she was pushed down on to the bed with gentleness.
"They probably have another man." His hands traveled to her knees and parted them and slowly she succumbed to him. "Now, my spice is all yours."
Those were the last words she heard before falling into the hands of pleasure.
. . .
How could he have done this to her?
He had taken her virginity and brought her into a world of sin and pleasure. It was an endless game that she never thought she would escape from. Yet after a long time she was able to run away. She thought this would finally free her, but mentally she was still chained to him. He had gotten to her head before she could comprehend, and it was too late.
Of course she didn't love him, even after she had freed from his game. But with months dragging by she had slowly come to realize that her relationship with him was different from the other women. She was the only one he would call over just to have her read to him. Botan was the closest to him and she hadn't opened her eyes to see this. She never cared for loving him, because she knew he didn't love.
As the months passed she came to know that he wasn't himself anymore. Because of her he was going insane. He didn't think he would survive a night without her. She had gone into shock when Maya told her this. The brown-haired woman and her were not on the lines of friends, but Maya felt it was important to blame Botan for his change.
She hadn't meant to make him into a different man. He still went back to those young girls in the end, but slowly, ever so slowly he was decaying. He released his imprisoned lovers. He watched them open their wings and flee into their happiness. A few still chased after him here and there.
He let them go, he unlocked the key and lifted the burden from them. Botan felt her tears pouring from her eyes. She was to blame for this new man. She had broken him and he became weak for once, but now he was different.
"Botan."
She blinked and turned her attention to the presence beside her. His red hair swept over her forehead as he leaned in and brushed their lips lovingly. He took her by surprise as his hands traveled to her shoulder. When he parted a smile lit his face.
"Sorry, I was caught in my own thoughts." She returned his smile with her own, a smile he came to adore.
He kissed her once more, but with more passion than before. Botan flinched and attempted to pull away.
"Shuichi, wait!"
He sighed and frowned with displeasure. "I thought you agreed that my spice is all yours?" he watched as her face light a perfect hue of red. After all the chaos his lovers had found someone they would love. Botan and Shuichi had grown to become more than mere lovers, although he was quiet persistent on having sex at least every once in a while just for the heck of it.
"I did, but you have to be patient. We can't do it every night."
"You'll give in, just like you will when we have a child." He laughed as she began screaming at him out of frustration.