#39 Theme 09: Crucify My Love - X Japan; Tora/Hiroto
Title: Reaching Amends
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 009 Crucify My Love (X Japan)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: smut-ish, fluff
Comments: They were fighting again.
Reaching Amends
They were fighting again.
Tora knew it as soon as he came home and found his towel in the waste bin. He'd been lazier than usual today. Normally he liked to put everything in its proper place; shoes here, socks there, dishes in the washer and wet towel hung up to dry. But he'd been in a hurry and left it on the bed that morning. Hiroto was already up and out with a different, busier schedule, while Tora had to go attend some interview, radio show thing.
It was stress probably, that made their tempers so short sometimes. Work and the band often bled into their personal lives and disagreements at work carried on at home.
Sighing, Tora salvaged his towel from the trash, brushing off a stray candy wrapper, tiny bits of paper and a used condom from between its still damp folds. He threw it in the hamper, making a mental note to do the laundry before it started to stink. Honestly, he really didn't leave his wet towels on the bed often enough to garner such a reaction - Tora was as much of a clean freak as Hiroto - so something else was probably off. Hopefully not. The younger guitarist was prone to heated mood swings and impulsive actions. Maybe all the stress at work had simply accumulated and Hiroto had chosen to take it out on Tora's towel.
Nodding his head at the probablity, Tora moved into the living room to turn on the TV and wait for Hiroto to come home.
---
He was still mad.
There were certain things both of them had come to expect when one of them was upset.
When they fought, there was the usual period of unrest, a time where neither of them was willing to talk it out. Conversations usually consisted of short-sentenced commands, small greetings, and the occasional painfully polite remark or two. It usually lasted until Tora said something that made them both laugh or Hiroto stumbled across something they both found interesting.
Right now, they still weren't talking.
Glancing nervously into the mirror, Tora studied the younger man over the scrubbing of his toothbrush. Hiroto was washing his face in the adjacent sink, not saying anything as he splashed away soap and the day's grime, then dried his face. They finished up in the bathroom and moved out into their bedroom, still in silence. Even when they were fighting it rarely broke into their daily routines; they still ate dinner together, showered and slept. All the same, Tora kept his eye on Hiroto the whole time, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving it on a chair before lifting up the covers and climbing into bed.
Sometimes, when things were really bad, they didn't have sex.
It was rare, but it happened.
While they were both guys and appreciated the physical release followed by a very sated sleep, there were occasions when feelings were so bitter they just didn't touch and simply drifted into fitful sleep. Thankfully, it hadn't happened more than a handful of times; quality time together got harder to come by when the band was busy.
Opening the drawer of his bedside table, Tora popped open a small case of jewelry and fished out a tiny metal stud. Unscrewing his usual spike, he cleaned it and tucked it away, replacing the empty hole in his lip with a smaller, rounded piece of metal that was barely noticeable even in the light. Flicking at the backing with his tongue, Tora slid his drawer shut and turned off his lamp.
He was nervous still, still unsure what it was he'd done wrong or why Hiroto was acting this way.
Sliding further under the sheets, he flipped over onto his side and waited for the other to get ready for bed.
Hiroto had a habit of checking all the locks before he went to sleep. If he wasn't too tired, he would go check the front door, the balcony, and any windows they'd opened, before returning to the bedroom. Then he usually made sure their morning alarms were on and set his phone to vibrate somewhere on his bed stand.
Head sinking comfortably into his pillow, Tora watched as Hiroto wandered in and out of view, finally coming back to his side of the bed, tugging off his own shirt and crawling in.
The other's lamp clicked off and two sets of eyes were left to adjust as blankets and bodies shifted in the dark.
---
Tora waited until he could see Hiroto's face again, wide eyes blinking and reflecting the shine of city lights, before he reached out a hand to stroke a smooth cheek. He breathed a sigh of relief when the younger man nuzzled into the back of his hand, moving closer so Tora could pull him into a kiss. Hands sliding into hair, legs sliding between knees. It was easier after that, comfortable; fingers tugging boxers down past the lift of hips, positions changing and eyelashes fluttering.
They could always tell how angry the other one was during sex.
For Tora, it was hard to hide his frustrations. It was difficult to hold back the pent up emotions when he was given free reign to snap his hips, take and take. His hands were always more demanding in their grip, teeth biting and nipping while, more often than not, Hiroto was flipped over onto his hands and knees, face out of sight. Then, Tora could do whatever he wanted and not see the sparks of pain shimmer in rapidly blinking eyes. He was more vulnerable to the easy draws of angry fucking, the stomach wrenching guilt afterward. Hiroto was different.
The younger man had always been more of a spiritual, gentle person, disliking of the angry, hot-tempered side of himself. Even though he considered it completely acceptable where others were concerned, completely understandable, in himself the anger felt wrong. When Hiroto was angry or irritated, he didn't make a sound. The usually vocal, deliciously responsive guitarist would simply lay flat in bed, passively accepting whatever Tora had to offer. He would cling to broad shoulders, bury his face in a damp neck and let his body be moved and sunken into. That usually irked Tora more than anything else - the silence and even breaths - because it didn't feel right. He felt like he was using Hiroto, abusing his body, and that stung in his chest. It was the same stinging guilt he felt when he was the angry one, waking up the morning after and watching Hiroto shuffle and wince.
Tonight however, the younger man was moving towards his touch, pressing his hips down into Tora's thrusts and reaching out to feel, tasting and giving. It was the smallest of gasps and shuddering of hips that let Tora know Hiroto wasn't angry with him. The prolonged arching of a back and tongue on his tongue that let him know there was something worse than a wet towel eating the other up. Hiroto had been so quiet, expressionless and monotone when he got home. Tora hadn't been sure what to think. But now, as Hiroto shot his load all over both their stomachs and the older man's hand, Tora was pretty certain this had nothing to do with himself and what he'd done, rather, it had something to do with some inner turmoil, something Hiroto might have done.
That was why, as they both settled bonelessly back onto the sheets, Tora plucked up the courage to ask,
"Is something wrong?"
---
At night, in the dark warmth of bed sheets, it was easier to let pride slip and talk about anything.
Tora had asked Hiroto about his day as soon as he'd walked in the door, but it wasn't until now he received a real answer.
"Just worried," Hiroto whispered, curling himself up in Tora's arms. Their bed was no longer a division of sides anymore, merely a bed holding two bodies tangled up in the middle.
"Worried about what?" Tora whispered back.
There was a small silence, slowing breaths and fingering rubbing down backs.
"That I'm not good enough..." Quiet.
Tora waited for him to continue, moving his hands up to comb through hair.
"... Not good enough to make music..."
Hiroto felt Tora's muscles shift at the words, abdomen rippling and arms clenching as he was pulled higher up a pale chest.
"Saga's been composing a lot of good stuff lately, especially for guitar, and he's a bassist. I just wonder if I'm-" Tora hushed him with a finger.
"Saga is Saga and you are you. All three of us make our own style of music." Hiroto nodded halfheartedly.
"It's okay if you like Saga's music better right now. I'm pretty sure Saga likes your music just as much. And," Tora poked his nose, "somewhere out there, there's a bunch of someones who love your music the most - and mines, and Saga's. We all have our someones out there cheering us on." Hiroto snorted then. Tora was starting to sound like some cheesy, sugary sweet Disney rerun.
"Don't laugh at me," Tora frowned, tickling his fingers up the other's sides. Sometimes Hiroto thought about things and doubted himself too much. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without you."
"You mean you wouldn't have," Hiroto smirked slyly, earning himself a firm smack on the ass.
"I'd like to see how far you could get without me propelling you up the ass!" Tora crowed, pushing Hiroto over onto his back and doing a belly flop onto his exposed stomach. The bedroom filled with giggling and laughter, sexy low murmurs and a lighter mood they were both thankful for. Insecurities were the worst things about everything, but Hiroto was just glad he had Tora to poke and prod him in the right direction.
A/N:
With his penor D:
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 009 Crucify My Love (X Japan)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: smut-ish, fluff
Comments: They were fighting again.
Reaching Amends
They were fighting again.
Tora knew it as soon as he came home and found his towel in the waste bin. He'd been lazier than usual today. Normally he liked to put everything in its proper place; shoes here, socks there, dishes in the washer and wet towel hung up to dry. But he'd been in a hurry and left it on the bed that morning. Hiroto was already up and out with a different, busier schedule, while Tora had to go attend some interview, radio show thing.
It was stress probably, that made their tempers so short sometimes. Work and the band often bled into their personal lives and disagreements at work carried on at home.
Sighing, Tora salvaged his towel from the trash, brushing off a stray candy wrapper, tiny bits of paper and a used condom from between its still damp folds. He threw it in the hamper, making a mental note to do the laundry before it started to stink. Honestly, he really didn't leave his wet towels on the bed often enough to garner such a reaction - Tora was as much of a clean freak as Hiroto - so something else was probably off. Hopefully not. The younger guitarist was prone to heated mood swings and impulsive actions. Maybe all the stress at work had simply accumulated and Hiroto had chosen to take it out on Tora's towel.
Nodding his head at the probablity, Tora moved into the living room to turn on the TV and wait for Hiroto to come home.
---
He was still mad.
There were certain things both of them had come to expect when one of them was upset.
When they fought, there was the usual period of unrest, a time where neither of them was willing to talk it out. Conversations usually consisted of short-sentenced commands, small greetings, and the occasional painfully polite remark or two. It usually lasted until Tora said something that made them both laugh or Hiroto stumbled across something they both found interesting.
Right now, they still weren't talking.
Glancing nervously into the mirror, Tora studied the younger man over the scrubbing of his toothbrush. Hiroto was washing his face in the adjacent sink, not saying anything as he splashed away soap and the day's grime, then dried his face. They finished up in the bathroom and moved out into their bedroom, still in silence. Even when they were fighting it rarely broke into their daily routines; they still ate dinner together, showered and slept. All the same, Tora kept his eye on Hiroto the whole time, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving it on a chair before lifting up the covers and climbing into bed.
Sometimes, when things were really bad, they didn't have sex.
It was rare, but it happened.
While they were both guys and appreciated the physical release followed by a very sated sleep, there were occasions when feelings were so bitter they just didn't touch and simply drifted into fitful sleep. Thankfully, it hadn't happened more than a handful of times; quality time together got harder to come by when the band was busy.
Opening the drawer of his bedside table, Tora popped open a small case of jewelry and fished out a tiny metal stud. Unscrewing his usual spike, he cleaned it and tucked it away, replacing the empty hole in his lip with a smaller, rounded piece of metal that was barely noticeable even in the light. Flicking at the backing with his tongue, Tora slid his drawer shut and turned off his lamp.
He was nervous still, still unsure what it was he'd done wrong or why Hiroto was acting this way.
Sliding further under the sheets, he flipped over onto his side and waited for the other to get ready for bed.
Hiroto had a habit of checking all the locks before he went to sleep. If he wasn't too tired, he would go check the front door, the balcony, and any windows they'd opened, before returning to the bedroom. Then he usually made sure their morning alarms were on and set his phone to vibrate somewhere on his bed stand.
Head sinking comfortably into his pillow, Tora watched as Hiroto wandered in and out of view, finally coming back to his side of the bed, tugging off his own shirt and crawling in.
The other's lamp clicked off and two sets of eyes were left to adjust as blankets and bodies shifted in the dark.
---
Tora waited until he could see Hiroto's face again, wide eyes blinking and reflecting the shine of city lights, before he reached out a hand to stroke a smooth cheek. He breathed a sigh of relief when the younger man nuzzled into the back of his hand, moving closer so Tora could pull him into a kiss. Hands sliding into hair, legs sliding between knees. It was easier after that, comfortable; fingers tugging boxers down past the lift of hips, positions changing and eyelashes fluttering.
They could always tell how angry the other one was during sex.
For Tora, it was hard to hide his frustrations. It was difficult to hold back the pent up emotions when he was given free reign to snap his hips, take and take. His hands were always more demanding in their grip, teeth biting and nipping while, more often than not, Hiroto was flipped over onto his hands and knees, face out of sight. Then, Tora could do whatever he wanted and not see the sparks of pain shimmer in rapidly blinking eyes. He was more vulnerable to the easy draws of angry fucking, the stomach wrenching guilt afterward. Hiroto was different.
The younger man had always been more of a spiritual, gentle person, disliking of the angry, hot-tempered side of himself. Even though he considered it completely acceptable where others were concerned, completely understandable, in himself the anger felt wrong. When Hiroto was angry or irritated, he didn't make a sound. The usually vocal, deliciously responsive guitarist would simply lay flat in bed, passively accepting whatever Tora had to offer. He would cling to broad shoulders, bury his face in a damp neck and let his body be moved and sunken into. That usually irked Tora more than anything else - the silence and even breaths - because it didn't feel right. He felt like he was using Hiroto, abusing his body, and that stung in his chest. It was the same stinging guilt he felt when he was the angry one, waking up the morning after and watching Hiroto shuffle and wince.
Tonight however, the younger man was moving towards his touch, pressing his hips down into Tora's thrusts and reaching out to feel, tasting and giving. It was the smallest of gasps and shuddering of hips that let Tora know Hiroto wasn't angry with him. The prolonged arching of a back and tongue on his tongue that let him know there was something worse than a wet towel eating the other up. Hiroto had been so quiet, expressionless and monotone when he got home. Tora hadn't been sure what to think. But now, as Hiroto shot his load all over both their stomachs and the older man's hand, Tora was pretty certain this had nothing to do with himself and what he'd done, rather, it had something to do with some inner turmoil, something Hiroto might have done.
That was why, as they both settled bonelessly back onto the sheets, Tora plucked up the courage to ask,
"Is something wrong?"
---
At night, in the dark warmth of bed sheets, it was easier to let pride slip and talk about anything.
Tora had asked Hiroto about his day as soon as he'd walked in the door, but it wasn't until now he received a real answer.
"Just worried," Hiroto whispered, curling himself up in Tora's arms. Their bed was no longer a division of sides anymore, merely a bed holding two bodies tangled up in the middle.
"Worried about what?" Tora whispered back.
There was a small silence, slowing breaths and fingering rubbing down backs.
"That I'm not good enough..." Quiet.
Tora waited for him to continue, moving his hands up to comb through hair.
"... Not good enough to make music..."
Hiroto felt Tora's muscles shift at the words, abdomen rippling and arms clenching as he was pulled higher up a pale chest.
"Saga's been composing a lot of good stuff lately, especially for guitar, and he's a bassist. I just wonder if I'm-" Tora hushed him with a finger.
"Saga is Saga and you are you. All three of us make our own style of music." Hiroto nodded halfheartedly.
"It's okay if you like Saga's music better right now. I'm pretty sure Saga likes your music just as much. And," Tora poked his nose, "somewhere out there, there's a bunch of someones who love your music the most - and mines, and Saga's. We all have our someones out there cheering us on." Hiroto snorted then. Tora was starting to sound like some cheesy, sugary sweet Disney rerun.
"Don't laugh at me," Tora frowned, tickling his fingers up the other's sides. Sometimes Hiroto thought about things and doubted himself too much. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without you."
"You mean you wouldn't have," Hiroto smirked slyly, earning himself a firm smack on the ass.
"I'd like to see how far you could get without me propelling you up the ass!" Tora crowed, pushing Hiroto over onto his back and doing a belly flop onto his exposed stomach. The bedroom filled with giggling and laughter, sexy low murmurs and a lighter mood they were both thankful for. Insecurities were the worst things about everything, but Hiroto was just glad he had Tora to poke and prod him in the right direction.
A/N:
With his penor D:
Archive