[Fic] Black Holes and Revelations
Title: Black Holes and Revelations (omake)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Greece/Japan, Japan/Greece (because switching is fun). Monaco, mentions of France. Implied France/Monaco.
Rating/Genre: R/NC-17. Modern-AU, Romance/Humour.
Summary: In which Kiku finds that perhaps a bit of recklessness isn’t always a bad thing.
Warnings: Sex, lots of it. And uh, introspective tl;dr-ing rambling ^^;
A/N: Set about three months after the events in The Beginning of All Commotions. It’s not necessary for you to have read that to understand this. All you need to know is that Kiku is a yakuza hitman, Herakles is heir to a shipping-empire and that there was UST between the two. Lots of it. And this oneshot is a shameless PWP about them finally getting around to resolving it.
~.*.~
you trick your lovers
that you're wicked and divine
“Fancy meeting you here, Mister Fox.”
The voice is low and soft, but recognizable even over the boisterous chatter of the other patrons in the bar.
Kiku cringes inwardly; he hadn’t expected to run into anyone familiar.
“Miss Grimaldi,” he manages a smile as he turns to greet her. “What a surprise.”
The petite young lady slides into the empty seat beside him, swirling her glass of piña colada with a pink miniature umbrella stick. Angeline returns his smile with one of her own - though comparatively to Kiku’s, there is more of a playful smirk in hers, a trace of smugness.
“It’s quite unlike you to be holidaying so far away from home, Mister Fox,” she says, casually glancing over her shoulder to look out the window and at the bright blue sea beyond.
“Ah… there was unfinished business I had to see to.”
“Oh,” Angeline’s smirk grows a little wider, “so you and Herakles are going steady now? That sounds lovely.”
Kiku almost chokes on his tea. “Mister Karpusi is not my ‘boyfriend.’”
“I didn’t say he is - you did. And well, whatever he is to you, the man’s probably good for you.”
“E-excuse me?”
This time, Angeline can’t quite suppress her laugh. “You seem a little different, Mister Fox.”
Kiku raises an eyebrow, nonplussed.
“In a good way, of course,” she continues, humour gleaming within her eyes as she lifts the glass to her lips, finishing off the last of her drink. “Maybe a little bit of recklessness is good for you, after all.”
~.*.~
you may be a sinner
but your innocence is mine
It takes exactly twenty-seven messages, five phone calls, three e-mails and a photo of Herakles’ new kitten before Kiku finally caves and agrees to see him.
They meet for dinner in Firá, Santorini, in a quaint café nestled in a quiet corner of the city, away from all the bright lights and blaring music of the stretch of upbeat bistro bars and clubs.
“You look well,” Herakles says, beaming brightly. He’d long decided to forego the cutlery, choosing instead to pick at the Souvlaki with his fingers.
“As do you, Mister Karp-” Kiku doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Herakles is abruptly holding up a piece of grilled meat, offering it to him.
“Please, just ‘Herakles’ is fine.” The Grecian’s lips curves into a lazy smile.
Kiku blushes, if only a little. Then, feeling unusually bold, he leans closer to eat morsel straight off the other man’s fingers. Herakles’ eyes widens in mild surprise, before he chuckles appreciatively.
“Do you come here often?” Kiku asks. He slices off a piece of his steak (sirloin cut, medium-rare), carefully placing it on the side of Herakles’ plate for him.
“My mother used to bring me here as a child.” Herakles skewers the meat with a fork, nibbling on it tentatively. “She had lived in Firá for a while, before moving to Londinium. She would bring me around the city - to the markets and the little shops by the streets, sometimes all the way to the beach. We’d spend hours just watching the ships out at sea, and the fishermen bringing in their catch of the day. And just before we headed home, we would always stop by this café for a bite and a drink.”
There is fondness in his tone and just a touch of child-like innocence in Herakles’ green eyes as he speaks.
He must really miss her, Kiku thinks. A familiar emotion settles within him as he sips at his drink. He empathizes with Herakles, understands the longing he must feel for those carefree days of a child easily satisfied with the simplest of pleasures. Playing hide-and-seek in the gardens. Searching for sea-shells in the sand and watching the waves crash against the shore. Listening to stories his father told as he puffed clouds of smoke into the chilly night air from a red lacquered cigarette holder, held elegantly in one hand.
We’re not that different from each other, Kiku muses, watching silently as Herakles frowns and rubs at a stubborn stain on the front of his shirt. He lets his gaze trail upwards from Herakles’ shirt to the ridge of his collarbone, to linger over the swath of tanned skin peeking out from the hem.
Coughing lightly into his fist, he glances away hurriedly because ah, he’s being improper and shamelessly staring at Herakles again, isn’t he?
If he is to be honest, Kiku would concede and agree that Herakles is a very attractive man. Tall and muscular (but not too bulky) with an angular jaw and hazel-flecked green eyes, his skin a burnish bronze and his wavy hair a rich brown, his is the image of beauty, of a masterfully crafted sculpture. A Grecian god breathed to life. Kiku can easily appreciate why Elizabeta had been eager to snap photos of him….
“All right Mister Fox, please stand this way - yes, with your back to the camera. And Herakles, you’ll be kneeling just beside him… ah yes, just like that!”
Even through the piece of silk blindfold wrapped over his eyes, Kiku can still feel the glare of the spotlight against his face, his skin tingling in slight discomfort from the heat. He exhales slowly, trying to keep his composure - though at this point, he’s fairly certain everyone in the room could hear his pounding heartbeats.
“Herakles, could you place one hand on Mister Fox’s hip - that’s good, okay - and your other hand just at the curve of his left buttock.”
“A-ah? Miss Héderváry, wait-”
“You mean like this?”
Kiku barely manages to bite back a cry of surprise as he feels the warm brush of a hand over his rear.
“Herakl- M-Mister Karpusi!”
“I’m sorry,” Herakles says; there’s an unmistakable smile on his lips right now, Kiku is sure of it.
“Oh, this is perfect.” Elizabeta gushes in delight as she begins snapping several photos.
Kiku wonders then what he’d gotten himself into.
(If only a lamp would fall of the ceiling and collapse upon him right now.)
“Kiku?”
At the sound of Herakles’ voice, Kiku blinks, turning his attention back to his companion.
“Forgive my rudeness,” he says, cheeks colouring again. “I was… I was just thinking.”
Herakles doesn’t question any further, only giving him a gentle, but knowing, smile.
Kiku sighs quietly, before gazing back at his food again, uncertain.
~.*.~
please me
show me how it's done
As the elevator doors slides close, he turns to ask Herakles for his hotel floor number, only to feel calloused fingers cupping his chin.
And suddenly, Herakles is pressing their lips together in a soft kiss.
Kiku blinks, caught by surprise. Just as quickly as he’d moved, Herakles pulls away, dropping his hand to his side.
“Sorry,” he says, voice husky as he bows his head, as if embarrassed by his abrupt show of forwardness. “But I’ve wanted to kiss you again, ever since Liza’s photo shoot... and…”
And he never gets to finish, because Kiku closes the gap between them, pulling at Herakles’ shirt, crashing their lips together again in a bruising kiss.
Once they were through the door and in Herakles’ room, they fall on the bed, shrugging off their clothes, their bodies pressed together and lips locked hungrily, in an aching, desperate need for more.
Kiku tries to stifle his moans when he feels Herakles kissing his neck, brushing his lips over the butterfly tattoo on his shoulder and down the length of his spine, sending an involuntarily shiver through him. Herakles whispers into his ear, murmuring sweet nothings into his skin as he runs his tongue all over Kiku’s body, licking and tasting him.
Shuddering at the touch, he grasps at Herakles’ wavy hair, dragging one hand over muscles and sinew, relishing at the way Herakles’ breathe catches in his throat when he digs his fingers into his skin.
It isn’t long before Herakles fingers are slick with lube and he runs his hands over Kiku’s thighs, over the curve of his ass, tracing slow, torturous circles at the rim. Kiku shudders when he feels a finger, and then two, slide into him, every flick and turn making his nipples and his cock harder, stiffer. He almost loses it when Herakles laps at the glans, tongue swirling all around his length before he is pulling away again, and Kiku groans in frustration at the loss of touch, at the sudden emptiness.
“Herakles…” Kiku begins, only to have the other man silence him with a soft kiss to his lips. Herakles turns him over to lie on his side, raising one of Kiku’s legs to rest over his shoulder and presses his cock in between his thighs. Kiku gasps as Herakles gently eases himself in, stretching him and filling him to the brim.
Exhaling slowly through gritted teeth, he squirms, every inch of his skin and nerves now tingling from the sensations Herakles is giving him with each firm thrust. He feels Herakles’ breath at his thigh, feels his grip tightening around his hips as Herakles plunges himself deeper.
The heat spikes within him, and Kiku tenses as he arches his back, lost in a sea of ecstasy and overwhelming pleasure when he comes. Herakles follows suit soon enough, body quivering from his own release.
They part ways the next day when Herakles leaves early for a business meeting. Watching the sun rise over the sea from the balcony, Kiku is left to ponder over his thoughts once more.
Maybe he isn’t as uncertain about this as he’d like to think.
~.*.~
tease me
you are the one
It isn’t supposed to be anything more than this.
Or at least, that’s what Kiku keeps telling himself.
He has had his suspicions since the beginning, but he had not thought of anything past the need to ensure Herakles’ safety and survival (it was hard to think otherwise, when bullets rained from all around them, when the blood was singing in his ear as adrenaline coursed through his veins).
And it wasn’t as if he has never slept with others before - he could only resist baser instincts for so long, even for one as disciplined as he.
Still, there is something different (new, exciting) when he does this with Herakles. With his other partners, it had mostly been an act of lust, of pure passion and animalistic need. And Kiku was fine with sex being just sex - it kept everything simple, severing no ties and crossing no boundaries. A mere business transaction, if you will.
With Herakles however… Kiku doesn’t want to admit it, can’t quite bring himself to say it aloud.
Perhaps this is why he finds himself returning time and time again; their lips locked in sweet, delicious kisses, their bodies slick with sweat and limbs entangled between the sheets. Each time Herakles glances at him, desire in those green eyes, Kiku feels the tiny urge to reach out to him, to caress his hair, to run his fingers over his face, his chest, his muscles…
He pumps their cocks together, lube-slicked hands encircled over their achingly hard lengths as he straddles over Herakles, pinning him gently against the bed and brushing ever so lightly over Herakles’s hips. It’s enough to make Herakles buck his hips upwards at the touch, enough to elicit soft moans of lust and pleasure from the man.
Kiku smiles softly, seductively, one hand splayed over Herakles’ chest. He continues stroking his hips, teasing the sensitive skin on the insides of Herakles’ thighs, before bringing both hands back to rub their harden cocks together again, thumbing over the slits, stroking, squeezing.
“Ki…ku…” Herakles moans again, the frustration clear in his voice, his breath sharp. “Please…”
Kiku does not reply, only squeezing harder. But his skin is flaring and his own erection is throbbing, pulsing. Aligning himself carefully, he drops his hips and Herakles’ cock is filling him, a tight, burning sensation gnawing within the pits of his belly. He bites back a small gasp - it almost, almost seems too much. But as Kiku begins to move, working himself up and down around Herakles’ thick cock, he finds that he enjoys it, relishes it even. Herakles bucks again in response, grunting, thrusting deeper into him, and Kiku surprises himself when he all but screams Herakles’ name as he comes.
It isn’t until when they are both sated, when he’s curled up in the crook of Herakles’ arm and watching him doze off, does Kiku finally finds the words for these emotions (Love? No, not quite, not yet… Affection perhaps, and endearment, with just a touch of exhilaration).
~.*.~
soothing
I’ll make you feel pure
trust me
you can be sure
“Do you visit Santorini often?”
“Once every two years or so, if we can manage it. Francis is pretty fond of the open sea, and Londinium does get too crowded for comfort at times.”
The elevator doors slide open with a ding. Kiku waits for Angeline to step out, before following after her, only to bump face-first into someone else as he does so.
“Oh, hello Herakles,” Angeline chirps brightly. “I had expected to see you here sooner or later. Though…” She tilts her head sideways, giving Herakles a quick glance-over, noticing the tiny marks over his neck and his bare chest. “I hadn’t expected you to be entirely shirtless too.”
She gazes back to Kiku, her lips tugged upwards in a tiny smirk, as she continues without missing a beat, “And I wouldn’t have pegged you as a biter, Mister Fox.”
Kiku decides then, that the shade of the corridor lamp directly above them really did bring out the colour of the walls.
Herakles blinks a few times, smiling rather sheepishly and giving Angeline a somewhat apologetic nod. “Hello Miss Grimaldi. And uh, I apologise about the shirtlessness - I hadn’t expected Kiku to be bringing up any guests...”
“No worries about that, my good sir. Shirtlessness is nothing, not when Francis has a habit of strutting down to breakfast completely naked. If he can get away with it, that is.”
They bid their goodbyes before long, and Kiku can only let out a long sigh of relief as they walked back towards their room.
“Sorry about that.” Herakles says, sliding the key card into the door reader. “I know you’d wanted to be more discreet about this, about us…”
Kiku manages a wry smile as he shakes his head. “It’s all right. With her reputation, Miss Grimaldi would have figured it out anyway. She isn’t dubbed as Londinium’s best information-broker without good reason.”
Herakles hums in agreement as he opens the door, before turning back to fix the other man with a silent gaze. Kiku sees the fervor in those green eyes, alluring and inviting, and blushes slightly.
He doesn’t quite know what they are just yet - friends, lovers? It’s hard to tell, even for himself. But he thinks they’ll figure it all out someday, somehow, when the time is right.
He takes Herakles’ outstretched hand and follows him to the bed.
-End-
_____
The pieces of ‘poetry’ before each scene are lyrics from Muse’s Undisclosed Desires. I’ve always felt this song fit Greece/Japan and their dynamics really well. The title of this omake however, are lyrics from Muse’s other song, Starlight.
Not quite sure what happened here but ahhhh well. It’s been awhile since I wrote a proper smutfic…. I think I’ve been out-of-touch ^^; Maybe I'm not quite used to trying to write in medias res, especially for smut. But it was worth a try, and I guess I kind of like how sounds kinda sorta .
Anyway, I hope the smut isn't too fail here. Thanks for reading ♥