A Cup of Lust Beauty and Affairs
Summary: Taichi, a photographer and artist fascinated by the beauty of the world, becomes captivated by the beauty of a customer at his parent's coffee shop. Innocent desires soon blaze into an unforgettable, insatiable affair. Taito/Yamachi
D-Angel: Hello my lovelys! Hope you're doing well. This chapter took me longer than anticipated, mostly because I had to completely re-write half the chapter as I felt that one of the scenes fell completely flat (in comparison to the rest of the story). Hopefully the changes I made will prove to be more interesting ;)
As per tradition for this story, I will respond direct to the wonderful individuals who have reviewed since Chapter 17 was posted.
Angelfish369 - That bath scene was fun to write, haha, couldn't resist! Looking back, a lot did happen in this chapter, and the aim was to show the breakdown between Tai and Yama's relationship due to outside pressures tearing them apart (e.g. Sora's health issues, Taichi's struggle to pay the rent, etc.). Mimi's predicament will be expanded on, and there are certainly more twists and drama on the way ;)
VidoraBlack - You're welcome :) I'm flattered that you enjoy my writing style, and I certainly plan to keep churning out stories (I'll be focusing more on original fiction though in the upcoming future so I can get some e-book stuff published!).
Guest - Here it is :D
InuyanaIris - Haha, thanks! :) Gotta love a bit of Taito!
PinkBridgeGoneBad - As you may have already seen, I have finally replied to your PM! I hope you love this chapter just as much xD
PorcelainDollxx - I've kept it up (oo err!), here's another dose for ya ;)
I believe that's all for now. Please read on and enjoy :)
Chapter 18 - Whiskey Drenched Kisses
'So tip the bottle back, Bubble foam, And watch it break.'
I never expected to become homeless, particularly at the age of twenty-three. Mostly, I was gutted that I had to give up my perfect little artistic retreat, but the loss of independence was nowhere near as bad as that. At least my landlord had been decent enough to give me a couple of extra weeks to make arrangements for alternative accommodation.
"Maybe I should lower my rates?" I mused as I sat across the table to Isamu in one of our favourite hangout spots, staring directly at my empty glass.
SuperDeluxe had been open for the past few years. It was pleasant hideaway, with a homely edge. Spotlights dazzled down from the wooden ceiling beams, onto the square black tables below. The place was always full and buzzing, even in the early afternoon. Live music performances occurred most evenings, usually consisting of local musicians, or bands trying to establish themselves- a majority of which were very talented.
The place also hosted art exhibits every now and again; my work had been showcased at several of these, although it had been a while since I'd last participated.
"It wouldn't make a difference," Isamu said with diligence, "everyone's starting to feel the crunch of the recession."
I allowed him to continue despite I was eager to interrupt him and his wise words.
"Lots of people I know are using friends or family members to be the photographer at their weddings, as opposed to hiring a professional." Isamu lowered his empty pint glass down and looked me straight in the eye. "You're not the only one who's struggling."
As always, Isamu was clued up on the matter. No wonder why he was always taken so seriously by others. Still, it didn't stop the truth from frustrating me.
A few other self-employed photographers I knew had actually recently mentioned they were in the same predicament. The work just wasn't as reliably available anymore.
"I suppose I might have to consider a new career." I placed a thumb against my chin, contemplating where my current skills could take me.
"Ever thought about a job in illustration, or design?"
They were fair suggestions, not to mention sensible. Isamu seemed to have connections everywhere; I had no doubt he could help find me another job, but everything else sounded so mundane compared to photography.
"Have a think about it whilst you're up at the bar," Isamu suggested, flicking his credit card across the table at me. "It's your round."
As I waited for the bartender to pour our drinks, my thoughts honed in on the conundrum of where I was going to live. I would have shacked up with Mimi, but life was being just a tough with her. After finding her in the bathroom surrounded by pregnancy kits sobbing her eyes out, everything had turned surreal.
Once she had calmed down, I'd taken her back into the living room to talk.
"How far gone are you?" I asked, eyes fixed on her pancake flat stomach, my mind convinced that there was no way there could be a baby in there. Mimi quickly crossed her arms across her belly then stared down at her feet.
"I'm guessing six or seven weeks."
"Does Koushiro know?"
Mimi exhaled deeply.
"Of course he doesn't."
"Are you gonna tell him?"
"Yes. No. Shit, I don't know!" Mimi bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her body trembling. "I don't know if I'm even going to keep it."
Placing my arm around her, she nestled up against me still trying to desperately hold back her sobs.
"No matter what happens, I'm here for you," I promised.
I didn't know what else to say without making the situation even worse for her, so we ended up spending the rest of the day curled up on the sofa, watching classic childhood cartoons on television. I hoped it helped take her mind of worrying, what's already done is done after all.
"Since when did you start drinking spirits?" Isamu questioned on my return to our table, eyes locked on the tumbler clutched in my left hand, filled with amber liquid and ice.
"Since today," I decided, placing both our drinks down before taking my seat. I swirled the contents of my glass around for a few moments, savouring the raw sound of the ice clinking against the sides before allowing the mixture to settle.
Isamu's eyebrows suddenly creased inwards. I was ready to launch into a rant about how rum was actually known to reduce the effects of stress, until he reached down and slipped his vibrating phone out from his pocket. Taking one glance at the caller display, he drew out a short groan then slid his phone back into its special cubbyhole. Quickly looking up, a guilty shimmer flashed across his irises when his eyes met mine.
"Was that Nami-chan?" I queried, a small smile playing on my lips. Isamu's cheeks flushed red. Hammer, nail, head. Relationships; they were something he did not have the time for, apparently, what with running his own business and all. This Nami girl he'd recently started seeing seemed to be no exception.
"Must be getting serious." I winked, knowing all too well how much it agitated him when I teased him about his love life.
"Still seeing that married man?" Isamu asked, coiling his fingers around his pint of ale.
His swift retaliation made me flinch, as did the rum I'd just swallowed as it burnt the back of my throat (it was a sensation I knew would take me a while to grow accustomed to).
"He's engaged, not married," I reminded him.
"Practically the same thing."
"Don't you start," I grumbled, necking back another mouthful of rum.
"Sorry. I'm not here to lecture you," Isamu said, his tone softening.
A sigh escaped my lips. I was unable to reserve any anger for him, after all, he was far from being judgemental. He'd been one of the few male friends from high school who had been comfortable with my sexuality from the get go. I guess he reserved every right to be concerned about where things were heading with my relationship with Yamato.
"I'm sorry too." Isamu and I could be bad as each other half the time, but we usually knew when the draw the line.
Lowering my empty glass onto the table, my muscles stiffened the moment it made contact with the surface. Takumi's distinctive vocals were vibrating through the venue out from the surround sound speakers alongside a catchy beat. It was a song from their new album, the lyrics based around about craving someone you can't have, forbidden love and all that.
'Your senses numb as your body ripens
You were falling hard, now you're bound by desire'
Listening to those words, his suggestive voice, my head started to spin, and not from the glass of rum I'd somehow managed to down in less than the space of a few minutes.
"I'm going outside for some air," I announced after I had risen to my feet. Grabbing my coat from the back of the chair, I pushed and squeezed through a crowd of people towards the exit.
Outside, the cold air hit me full on. Standing on the edge of the pavement shivering, I zipped up my coat then pulled my phone out from my pocket, my fingers eagerly mashing against the buttons to awaken the display. Glancing down at the screen, my stomach sank. No messages or missed calls. Clenching my eyes shut, the warmth from the rum was slowly spreading through my veins, yet it wasn't enough to comfort me.
Yamato's guitar was still sitting in the back of my car; clearly he didn't miss it that much. I was still in two minds whether to drop his guitar off at the music store, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with another Makoto lecture. I couldn't exactly turn up to Yamato's place again either, knowing full well Sora would be there.
The nerves in my nose twitched as a small globule of cold moisture settled on its very tip. My eyes immediately snapped open, then widened with fascination. Thousands of tiny fine little snowflakes were flittering down onto the street like little lost wayward souls, illuminated by the city lights. It was the first snow of the season, but I was unable to embrace the beauty of it.
My fingers still coiled tightly around my phone, I acted on impulse. Holding the device up to my eye level, I flicked through my phonebook until I had reached a particular contact, one I had vowed to keep my distance from. I deliberated for just a moment, then jabbed my finger against call button.
Pressing the object against my ear, the persistent dial tone echoed tauntingly against my ear; each ring growing louder as the snowfall became heavier. After the sixth ring there was a soft clicking sound, followed by a chorus of wild laughter and music thudding in the background.
"Hold on," the deep voice on the other end managed to speak above the commotion. A door closed- the racket instantly quietened enough that I could hear his footsteps cracking against the flooring as he ventured to a more suitable location. I only had to patience to wait until the noise was nothing more than a distant hum.
"Takumi-san, can we meet up?"
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It was nearing on 9.00pm by the time we had travelled across town, after leaving SuperDeluxe, to meet Takumi at some swanky club I had heard Mimi mention once or twice. Takumi used his celebrity status to get us access to a secluded VIP area; soothing jazz music flittering out from the surround speakers as we cosied up in a semi-circular booth, complete with swanky black leather seats.
Isamu had made it no secret that he was concerned about the amount I had already drunk, and also about the idea that Takumi had planted in my head, no more than a day ago, when I'd confessed my predicament to him over the phone.
"As it happens," Takumi revealed, "I'm currently looking for a place in Tokyo, something that's not too far from Shibuya. What if I take over the lease for your apartment and you can continue living there?"
I'd told Takumi it was something I needed to think about. Now, in my drunken haze, it sounded like the perfect idea. Fantasies of me greeting Takumi at the front door with kisses and delightfully cooked food danced in front of my eyes.
So here we were to discuss the terms.
"Where's the rest of the band?" I asked, quickly thumbing through the drinks menu.
"Dancing downstairs," Takumi said, rolling his eyes as if we were teenagers referring to children. "Ignore the menu, I'll get us something special."
I watched Takumi as he headed off to the small bar - hidden at the back of the room. He walked with such importance and elegance; it certainly matched the way he spoke. I was curious about his upbringing; according to his biography he had been raised in a working class background, but his mannerisms suggested otherwise.
"Try and ease back on the drinking," Isamu advised, watching as I struggled to unfasten and wiggle out of my coat.
"I'll be fine," I sighed, stubbornly dismissing his warning. A frown darkened his brow.
Takumi soon returned to our table with three tumblers, each filled with a ball of ice, and a bottle of Yamazaki whiskey. The label read that it was aged 18 years; I dreaded to think how much it had cost.
"Not for me," Isamu said as Takumi set the instruments down onto the table. Takumi shrugged. He cracked the bottle open, pouring generous measures of the honey coloured liquid into all but one of the glasses, before nudging one of them in my direction. The harsh alcoholic vapours stung against my nostrils as I lifted the drink up to my lips before taking a generous sip. It was warm and strangely street, with a woody bitter aftertaste. For fancy whiskey, it was rather delicious.
"The one aged 25 years is phenomenal," Takumi confessed after savouring his first mouthful.
"I suppose seven more years makes such a difference," Isamu said. Takumi instantly turned his head to Isamu, who was analysing the label on the whiskey bottle with distain lingering in his eyes.
"Quite considerably; an extra ninety thousand yen to be precise." Isamu's frown deepened after Takumi had casually batted back Isamu's sarcastic quip. I figured then was the time to a good time to change the subject.
"Takumi, why are you interested in renting my apartment?" I said, coiling my fingers around my glass. In truth, it was something I had been curious about since Isamu had mentioned it on our train journey over to this venue. The room we were seated in was easily the same size- if not bigger- than my apartment.
"Indeed. If you can afford the finest spirits, surely you can choose to live somewhere extravagant?" Isamu added, his sharp eyes staring Takumi down.
"Sometimes it's nice to be inconspicuous," Takumi replied, his hand settling down on my thigh underneath the table, fingers squeezing. The corners of his lips curled up into a small smile. "I also see nothing wrong with helping a friend out."
The drinks and conversation continued to flow, although not a lot else was said about the renting suggestion. Isamu and Takumi threw the occasional subtle insult at one another whenever they found an opening. I was disappointed that they didn't get on, but optimistically hoped that they would find some form of common ground, regardless of size.
However, after Takumi had poured out my fourth glass of whiskey, Isamu excused himself from our table, stating he had to make a quick phone call.
"Can I borrow your phone, Tai? Mine's low on juice."
I handed my mobile over to him before turning my attention back to Takumi and the whiskey we were making short work of. Takumi refilled my glass, then tapped his index finger against his lips.
"How many weeks do you have left on your lease?"
"A couple more, I think."
I downed the contents of my glass before turning my head to meet his hypnotising gaze. My cheeks flushed red; Takumi smirked. He leant forwards, placing a hand around the back of my head as he forced our lips together.
Our mouths were wet with saliva and whiskey as the kiss was deepened. As he pinned my body down against the firm upholstery, straddling me, I knew I was too far gone to fight him off. Both his hands roamed underneath my t-shirt, nails grazing against my back; the sensation, electrifying. I moaned heavily against his neck.
"Ever had sex in public before?" He asked, his lower body grinding against mine. A drunken chuckle escaped from my lips; oh, if only he knew half the escapades I'd got up to.
"No wonder why Yamato snagged you," Takumi laughed, his hand tugging at the clasp of my belt.
Seemingly seconds later, Isamu loudly cleared his throat, gracefully notifying us of his return.
Takumi groaned quietly against my collarbone. Climbing off me, he smoothed down his shirt then ran his fingers through his tousled hair. I followed suit, dizzy from both the whiskey and Takumi's risqué actions. The mention of Yamato's name had also stirred something within me. Suddenly, I no longer wanted to be here.
"Isamu-san..." Takumi begun, but Isamu cut him off.
"I think it's best we wrap things up for tonight." Isamu reached across Takumi and scooped up my coat. "Perhaps you're not aware, but Taichi is clearly not in the right state of mind to make any executive decisions tonight." Hidden underneath his stern delivery, there was a patronising edge to Isamu's words which even I picked up on as I struggled to keep my eyes from closing.
"Is that truly the reason?" Takumi asked.
"Is there something wrong with helping a friend out?" Isamu replied, a mocking edge to his voice as he paraphrased the words Takumi had used on him.
"It's apparent you view Taichi as more than just a friend." Although I couldn't fully see Takumi's face from the angle he was sat at, I heard a hint of a smirk in his accusation. Isamu exhaled sharply, amused.
"If I felt that way do you think I'd let a married man or a musician stand in my way?"
Takumi laughed softly. "Then what's your problem, Isamu-kun?"
"You. Your reputation isn't as clean as you think."
Through my blurred vision, I watched as Takumi rose to his feet, then approached Isamu.
"You shouldn't believe what you hear in the media," Takumi said, his tone low.
"It wasn't from the media." Isamu's response came swiftly. It was a bold statement to make, but he was clearly confident that he could handle the repercussions. Despite his slim physique, he was muscular and powerful, and for this reason people often tread carefully around him. "Regardless, Taichi and I are leaving, right now."
"Hey, don't I have a say in this?" I asked, only for my legs to give way the instant I attempted to stand up. Isamu's shoes squeaked loudly against the floor as he lurched forwards ready to grab me, but Takumi beat him to the punch.
"I've got this," Takumi said as I fell against his chest. There was something about his tone which, despite my state, troubled me; dark and commanding, like a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon.
The peppery scent of his aftershave was the last thing I recall that night.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Song lyrics (At the beginning of the chapter)
Straylight Run - "Another Word For Desperate"
D-Angel: Eep, sorry to leave y'all hanging here! Next chapter is actually already partly written, so I'm hoping I can have this posted up sooner than usual ;) Yama's going to be in it to, so you know it'll be a good one, haha. I'm quite enjoying developing Takumi as a character though... He wasn't going to have a big part in the plot originally, but it seems his role has started to expand; whether that's a good thing, we'll have to see!
As always, thanks for your love and support! Feel free to leave a review, or to PM me on here or Twitter (I love chatting with you guys, hehe).
See ya next chapter!
D-Angel
19/05/14