I meant to have this out for Halloween as a treat for you guys, but I couldn't manage the deadline because of a death in the extended family. I'm back now.
Anyway, I know I don't get to all your prompts immediately, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten about them. It just means that I'm trying to work out the details of the story I'm writing for you. You should also know that sometimes I can't fulfill a prompt no matter how hard I try. Please don't take it personally. Feel free to request something else. I love writing stories for readers, so don't be shy.
FYI: This is kind of crackish. I needed to cheer myself up. Hope it brings a smile to you too.
Blood-stained lips curve sensuously around plastic fangs as Hirato makes his way towards Akari's office. He's just absconded early from one of Tsukitachi's famous Halloween parties. These annual affairs aren't wholly ennuyeux, but without his lover present, they certainly lack an element of diversion. Try as he might, however, he can never convince the blond to escort. Tsukitachi is a man whose complete disregard for convention does not extend to his own soirees, apparently; he requires guests to arrive in costume. Naturally, this means that the good doctor declines his invitation every year.
Hirato chuckles softly as he imagines Akari in a number of tawdry Halloween getups. Cowboy, police officer, mummy, ghost—he considers the usual suspects before dismissing each one. His paramour is far too refined for the typical fare. One could not expect Akari to be anyone other than Akari. Of course, mad scientist isn't much of a leap for the researcher, but persuading the man to don a costume would require the sort of miraculous efficacy that allows one to walk on water, and regrettably, Jesus Christ had not been in attendance tonight.
Akari can be unforgivably staid at times. Still, Hirato wouldn't have him any other way.
The nurses' covetous eyes rove over him as he stalks down Research Tower's unusually calm corridors, taking in his form-fitting tuxedo and billowing cape. Against pale skin and dark hair, his satin cravat positively glows scarlet. Doubtless he makes for a fetching vampire. He hastens his pace, knowing how agitated Akari will be if he should distract the physician's staff for any considerable length of time.
The commander turns the knob to the director's quarters without knocking; they've been involved long enough to dispense with ceremony.
"I've been expecting you." A deep rumble sounds from somewhere within. It's muffled by the sound of rushing water. "Give me a minute to wash up; I've just come from surgery."
There's a moment, a brief one, where the captain imagines joining his lover in the shower. Long fingers reach for his tie knot before he's interrupted by Akari's voice. "And no, that wasn't an invitation."
"You're such a prude," he calls in half jest as he settles on the sofa and adopts his most seductive demeanor. No matter, Hirato thinks mischievously, if I can't take you in the shower right now, I'll do so after I make a proper mess of you. Circus' Second Commander is unaccustomed to losing his quarry, after all.
The water turns off. "Is that a complaint?" Akari's head appears around the door frame, mouth turned down in a scowl and wet hair falling into his face. Ruby eyes narrow in appraisal. "It is, isn't it?"
"Not in the slightest." It's a lie, and both know it. A sudden chill falls between them, causing the brunet to clear his throat uncomfortably.
"Well, we can't all be lecherous, blood-sucking fiends," Akari huffs, the barest hint of a growl betraying the fact that he is indeed bruised by the unarticulated accusation Hirato failed at concealing sufficiently. The doctor disappears beyond the threshold again, leaving a deflated airship captain to search frantically for a way of salvaging their evening. "Nevertheless, I suppose I must be a difficult bedmate—no spontaneity, no frivolity, all compartmentalizing and planning and whatnot…" he trails off resignedly.
Hirato wants to kick himself for being so loose-lipped. It's true that his companion can be frustratingly unyielding and rather too grave for his own good, but never once has the captain been bored with their physical relationship. Why did I say that? How careless. "Akari," he sighs the sigh of the perpetually long-suffering, "It's not like that."
"There's no need to equivocate." The words are terse, icy. "You know I prefer the brutal truth."
The brunet prepares himself for the somber conversation that will assuredly ensue. Honestly, he has no inkling what's gotten into his damnably confounding partner. It's so very unlike Akari to be petulant over trivialities. Worry begins to creep along his veins, prompting him to mentally enumerate everything he's done in the past few days to incur the other's disappointment. There must be something; he doesn't act like this without provocation.
A brooding violet gaze remains fixed on the floor when finally Akari steps into the living room, wearing his lab coat and stethoscope—and nothing else. "Hirato," he lilts, commanding attention, "Trick or treat?"
Hirato chokes, sputtering a series of nonsensical utterances before regaining himself.
"I'd have accompanied you to Tsukitachi's, but as you can see, my costume was inappro—" and that's all the naughty doctor manages before his blood-sucking fiend of a lover attacks, gloved hands roaming over still-flushed skin and careful fangs trailing along the seam of his lips.