nescience -- oneshot
Title: Nescience
Chapters: Oneshot
Author: invisiblehabits
Genre: Angst, mostly
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Malexmale sex, GazettE breakup
Pairing: Reita/Uruha
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t know. Won’t make money unless you feel like paying me to read.
Summary: Not knowing is always the worst.
Comments: This is what I start up when stuck in a boring statistics class. Writing smut is much more interesting than Gapminder anyway...
--
”It’s already that day again?” Aoi said lowly as he looked over at the lone figure seated on a park bench.
“Yeah,” Ruki sighed. “This year went by fast.”
“I think they all did,” Kai interjected. “But I doubt he’d agree.”
The three former band members forever friends looked at their once lead guitarist. Uruha had moved on well, it was only ever on this day that he allowed the past, with all its grief and hurt, to shine through. The others didn’t blame him, if anything they were proud of him for handling everything the way he did.
Still, they’d made it custom to meet up on this day. Not much was ever said, but it was a silent kind of comfort to have your friends close. Friends who had been treated the same way, who understood as little as you did.
“We should do this more often.” Kai looked at the other two. “Meet up like this, the four of us.”
Ruki nodded slowly and Aoi made his characteristic humming sound, both of them taking long drags on their cigarettes. Neither took their eyes off Uruha.
“I know we all hang out,” Kai continued, his voice low. “But it’s only ever two and two. This is the only day all of us are together.”
“It’s because being all in one place makes it painfully obvious who isn’t present,” Ruki mumbled.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Kai agreed crestfallen.
“He can hear you, you know,” came Aoi’s soothing voice.
The drummer and vocalist, of whom only one was still a musician today, looked back over at the still blonde Uruha. There was no doubt the oldest was correct. Uruha’s posture had stiffened, there was something pained lying like a shadow across his face and still - he was smiling. It was faint, but it was there.
“You are allowed to say his name,” he said and took a drag on his own cigarette.
“Uruha…” Ruki walked over and took a seat on the bench, placing his arm around his old friend comfortingly. “We’re not avoiding it on purpose.”
“I know,” the blonde said. “You miss him too.”
“Yeah,” Aoi and Kai agreed in unison, both joining the others but not sitting down.
“We all miss Reita,” the dark haired guitarist continued.
There it was, the name that was nothing but a name today. Neither of them were who they’d once been. Uruha, Ruki, Kai and Aoi had died along with the GazettE, but they liked to use them on this day. A memorial of sorts of a time gone by, and era lost to the grave never to return.
“Reita…”
- - - - - - - -
“Reita!”
Uruha shriek in laughter, nearly choking on his own breaths as the other ticked him mercilessly.
“Reita, Reita stop it!” he begged. “I can’t breathe, stop it!”
But there was no spite in his voice. He loved having the bassist so close, but last he checked oxygen was kind of vital for survival. It seemed Reita had also heard that rumour because he finally gave up his torturous behaviour. Instead he wrapped his strong arms around the guitarist’s lithe frame and pulled him closer in the bed they were lying on.
“Are you happy, Uruha?” he asked, a slight tone to his voice that Uruha couldn’t quite decipher.
“Yeah,” he said and turned his head to look at the handsome man. “Yeah, I’d definitely say I’m happy. I get to do what I love most every day, I’ve got my closest friends with me on the journey, and I get to go home with my closest friend of all every night because he is my lover.”
The honey coloured orbs were shining brightly as he spoke and that thoroughly infectious Uruha-smile decorated his lips. He was beautiful in that moment, so beautiful Reita had to lean over and kiss him.
It was an intense kiss, slow but intense. As if Reita tried to pour everything he was and had to offer into it. Uruha found himself moaning into the kiss and wrapped his arms around the bassist’s neck as Reita rolled on top of him.
“What’s this?” he asked with a cheeky smile. “You’re usually a morning sex person.”
“Do you mind?” the bassist asked and mirrored the smile as he snuck a hand between their bodies to palm Uruha’s crotch.
The guitarist bit his lip and moaned again. “Not at all, I’m more for evening sex and you know it.”
“Mhm.” Reita lapped at his neck and continued to palm the rapidly hardening cock beneath his hand. “I’ve never known anyone else who could come home from a thirteen hour work day and be horny as fuck.”
A moaned chuckle was Uruha’s reply and he spread his legs to allow his lover to settle in better between them. “Well you can’t complain today, it’s been a day off so get on with it and touch me properly already!”
He’d hardly finished the demand before fingers had unbuttoned his pants and Reita was shoving his hand down into them. The guitarist moaned loudly and pushed his hips up against the pressure, into the friction that occurred when Reita rubbed him too slow to be anything but teasing.
“Fuck, you call that properly?” he stuttered between gasps turned whimpers the moment Reita used his free hand and superior strength to pin his hips to the bed, restricting movement.
“No,” the bassist admitted with a grin. “I just love driving you insane with want. Partly,” he leaned down and lapped at Uruha’s neck again, “because it’s so easy.”
Lapping turned to kisses, then rougher sucking and small nipping bites. The marks would most likely be visible tomorrow, but they would face before the next photo shoot. Not that photo shoots, live shows or even the GazettE as a band was anywhere near Uruha’s mind right then. He was coming undone at the seams beneath his lover’s ministrations and he just wanted more, more, more!
But Reita took his time, slowly coaxing his lover to near painful hardness with fleeting touches and teasing bites. It wasn’t until Uruha was flat out begging that he begun to peal off clothes. Garment by garment, each action followed by stroking hands and nipping lips. He knew exactly which spots to kiss and which to bite, where to stroke lightly as a feather and where to massage with more force; knowledge he used to make a moaning mess of the normally reserved guitarist.
By the time the bassist had finally gotten them both naked Uruha had had enough. With practiced ease, and a bit of unspoken permission from the stronger one, he flipped them over and straddled his lover.
“I have got to be the luckiest man on Earth,” he mumbled as he let hands and eyes alike roam the strong chest and abs before him. “If only our male fans could see you like this... They’d kill every noseband wearing fangirl out there.”
“Good thing they can’t then,” Reita said and caressed the adored thighs only he ever got to touch. “Cause the only man I want is you.”
Uruha felt like a school girl with how that comment made him blush and smile. So what it was a bit cheesy, it was honest and held an undeniable sweetness to it. It was rare for Reita to verbalise emotions like that, thus it meant all the more when he actually put words to what he felt. Ruki would’ve smacked him for it, they both knew their eloquent vocalist would never accept such trivial nonsense, but Uruha was drinking those words like he would never hear them again.
“You’ve got me,” he promised and slid down the strong thighs a little bit. “But now I say it’s my turn to tease…”
Eyes locked for a brief moment but Reita did nothing to stop the other. Why would he when Uruha was leaning down to wrap pouty lips around the head of his cock and suck powerfully. He had no idea when or where the guitarist had learnt to suck cock the way he did, but he was damn skilled in the art. All he had to do was lie back and enjoy the ride as Uruha licked the vein on the underside of his member and moan at the almost-painful-oh-so-good nips to the head.
Uruha enjoyed it almost as much as Reita himself did. It wasn’t easy making the stout bassist lose his composure, thus he took great pride in knowing just how to make him come undone. Perhaps they knew each other too good, or perhaps that was a lover’s duty. Smiling at the thought he lowered his head further until his nose was buried in dark curls and the intense smell unique to Reita was all he could sense. There he pressed his tongue up against the erection and swallowed. Reita’s guttural groan filled the room as his hand shot down to wrap calloused fingers in blonde curls, hold the other’s head in place as he pushed his hips up and further into the heat. For a minute or two he all but fucked Uruha’s mouth, the guitarist only restricting his movement slightly by hands on hips adding a bit of warning pressure when he tried to go too far.
Finally the taller pulled back, let the length slip out of his mouth with a wet pop, and straddled the hips properly again. He was indeed horny as fuck and wanted the feeling of being filled to brim immediately, but even as he wrapped his fingers around the still saliva slick cock he felt restricting hands holding him in place.
“I haven’t prepped you,” Reita almost choked out, voice deeper than even with desire, lust and need.
“So?” Uruha questioned with a dark glare at the hands keeping him in place. “It’s not like I’m new to this, in case you forgot.”
It was a constant argument between the two of them. Uruha liked it a little bit on the dangerous side, didn’t mind going unprepped or even dry because he liked the true feel of his lover inside him. But such thinking clashed violently with Reita’s protective nature and the bassist preferred taking proper precautions. He too knew that you could very well go the way Uruha liked it, knew all the things of trust and being relaxed, but he was also very familiar with the risks and all the things that could go wrong.
“At least use lube,” he begged. “If you are indeed too impatient to be prepped.”
“Fine!” the guitarist agreed and rolled his eyes.
He didn’t look too offended however as he seductively leaned over his lover’s body and reached into the nightstand, hand roaming around momentarily before finding the desired bottle. The look on his face as he poured just enough, if not a little bit less, lube into his hand was so innocent Reita knew he was up to something. True enough he didn’t attempt to heat the substance in any way before reaching back and quickly stroking his lover, slicking him up. The bassist barely had time to gasp at the chilly feeling however, because next he knew Uruha was impaling himself to the hilt in one go.
The marks on those slender hips would not fade until the next photo shoot, Uruha made sure of that with the way he tossed his head back and choked out a moaned scream at the feeling. His muscles were protesting the intrusion and cramped deliciously, or so the guitarist thought at least. Not that Reita’s cock objected to the feeling of being caught in between those muscles, the feeling was so intense his breath caught for a second and strong hands clamped down in a bruising grip around sharp hips.
“Fuck, Kouyou,” he gasped out and involuntarily bucked his hips up to get even more of the tight heat.
“Yes, yes, please…,” the other blonde stuttered, frame slumped down slightly as his hands caught his weight on his lover’s chest. “Please Akira…”
He tried to ride the other, but was already too far gone in pleasure to manage anything but haphazardly thrusting and rolling his hips. It was Reita who had to set a rhythm, using his strength to lift the other’s hips and slam them back down on his cock as he thrust up to meet the force. It was hard, lewd and ungraceful; but it felt fucking fantastic!
Sitting up on the bed Reita unceremoniously tipped the other down and ended up on top, allowing him to thrust better, harder, faster. Uruha was never a silent lover, but tonight he was unusually vocal even for him; moans and groans turning to screams as he got closer to his orgasm.
With a few well aimed thrust to his prostate Reita tipped him over the edge and he came hard. Back arching off the bed, head pushed back into the mattress, eyes shut tightly and mouth open as he cried out Akira’s name. With the added friction of the contracting muscles it didn’t take Reita many more thrust, deeper to satisfy his own lust, to follow his lover. His entire body stiffened and jerked a bit as he spilled himself deep inside Uruha’s heat, then he slumped down on top of the other.
They were both panting hard, racing hearts making it all the more hard to catch their breath and regain some kind of composure. The guitarist’s seed was sticky in between their bodies, but so was the sweat slicking their skin. Everything was over so fast, fast than normal indeed, but neither could remember the last time things had felt so passionate, so….real.
“You’re heavy,” Uruha finally said, eyes closed as he half-heartedly pushed at the other’s shoulder. “But damn…”
Reita chuckled, a sound turning into a slight hiss as he pulled out, and rolled to the side. “Damn,” he agreed and stroked a sweaty streak of blonde from his lover’s forehead. “That was….”
“I know…,” Uruha yawned. “The perfect ending to a day off…”
“You want to sleep?” Reita probed himself up on an elbow and looked down at the other, casually letting fingertips dance over the lean chest.
“Not sure I’ve got any energy left at all, by now. Why, you had anything in mind?”
“No, it just….seems like a waste to go to bed already.”
“Tomorrow is a late morning, we’ll have breakfast and maybe even some morning sex. How’s that?”
He smiled that irresistible smile of his and Reita gave in. Rearranging themselves on the bed they didn’t even bother to wash off, merely dried the traces of what they’d done from their bodies with napkins, before pulling the covers over lazy limbs. Cuddling up next to Reita’s strong warm frame Uruha sighed contently and allowed sleep to lull him off to a dreamland.
- - - - - - - -
The alarm clock woke him up many hours later and he stretched, feeling surprisingly invigorated for the hour. Reita was the morning person, not he, and it was proved by the empty space next to him. Rolling his eyes Uruha tossed the covers aside and hesitantly put his feet on the cold hardwood floor. He really needed to get new slippers.
“You have to get up before the alarm goes off, baby?” he called out to the apartment. “You’re making me look bad.”
There was no reply and he frowned slightly. Pulling on a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt from yesterday, no need to spoil fresh clothes on his unwashed body, he trotted out of the bedroom. It was so silent, too silent really.
“Akira? Baby you here?”
Still no answer and his frown deepened further. The bathroom was empty, but a wet towel told him Reita had had a shower earlier in the morning hours. Continuing on to the kitchen, hoping the other was making breakfast, he found it equally devoid of life and worry began to seep into his mind for real. A quick check in the hall informed him that Reita’s shoes and jacket was gone, as were the helmet and the keys to his motorcycle.
Uruha swallowed and checked his watch. It was still early, not nearly time to leave for the studio. Besides, they always rode together. It didn’t make sense, none of it. If something had happened that made Reita rush out of the apartment like this, he surely would’ve woken Uruha. With hurried steps he went over to the phone and dialled Reita’s cell phone. An automatic voice informed him that the number had been cancelled on order of the client, no further information was available. Uruha dropped the phone, the sound of if hitting the wall echoing through the silent apartment as he sunk to the floor in an unbelieving heap.
- - - - - - - -
They still hurt. All these years later they still hurt, those memories. Uruha took a final long drag on his cigarette before letting it drop to the ground, only to bring the package out and lighting up another one. He’d spent a good three hours sitting there on the floor, not moving until his own cell phone rang and Ruki’s annoyed voice demanded to know where the heck he and Reita were at. After that he’d darted through the apartment, dread filling his veins as he realised Reita’s favourite backpack was gone along with some of his clothes and his wallet. Everything else were right where it had been the day before, as if nothing had happened or if the other would be back in a day or two.
He never came back. Five years later Uruha was as clueless as he’d been on that day. No note, no message, no nothing. When Reita didn’t show up to practice nor came home in the evening he filed a missing person’s report to the police. They investigated it but came up empty, said it looked like the bassist had gotten up and left of his own free will; nothing pointed at criminal activity. The media got hold of it eventually and all hell broke loose. PSC wanted them to go on, find a new bassist like they’d once found a new drummer, but Uruha had refused to. They all had.
Reita’s disappearance meant the end of the GazettE.
Yet here they were, four men together again five years later. Ruki mimicked Uruha’s action and lit up yet another cigarette, still not worried about his voice. Aoi and Kai stood beside them, all lost in thoughts and memories of their own. They made a pitiful sight really.
“You still haven’t heard anything?” Uruha asked. He already knew he answer, but he needed to make sure.
“You know I haven’t,” Ruki answered dejectedly. “You’d be the first to know if I did.”
“His family hasn’t heard anything either, not one word in five years…”
He sounded so small when talking about it, small and sad. But only ever on this day. For 364 days he stayed strong, moved on and continued his life. He’d managed well, even if he had yet to give his heart away again as far as the other three men knew. Not that he could be blamed, it was hard to trust again after such a blow.
“I just wish…” He sighed, not really knowing what he wanted.
“You wish he’d give some sign of life,” Aoi supplied. “That he’d let you know he’s okay, no matter where he is or what he’s doing.”
The blonde looked up at his fellow guitarist. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Not knowing is always the worst, isn’t it?” Kai agreed. “You keep hoping, but have nothing to keep the hope alive.”
Ruki, for once, said nothing. He didn’t have to, they all knew he agreed. Instead he just sat there, his arm still wrapped around Uruha’s tall frame as the minutes ticked away and cigarettes burned to ashes between their fingers. Finally, as the first rain drops began to fall, they got up and said their goodbyes; exchanged hugs and well wishes, promised to keep in touch and meet up again soon. But they all knew they wouldn’t meet until next year, not all of them like this. It hurt too much. But who knew, maybe next year they’d be five instead of four. Or perhaps they’d at least have some information to share, some knowledge of what had really happened.
Because not knowing was always the worst.