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Shuichi halted with his hand on the doorframe. Sakuma was still Sakuma. The legend. "Make amends, and I won't be your enemy." "NO FUCKING WAY! This is CRAZY." Shuichi turned around. "Sexual harassment is wrong!" At this, Ryuichi actually smiled. "What's wrong with it? Will it be any different from what your boyfriend does to you? That cruel, gorgeous jerk?" "I can't cheat on Yuki!" "Why not?" Now that Ryuichi asked the question, Shuichi wondered why, too. No, that was nonsense. He couldn't cheat on Yuki, because it might wreck their relationship. Granted, their relationship was mostly fighting and sulking. But great sex, too. It was true that Yuki would have to find out, of course, which meant that someone would have to tell him. And even if Yuki never found out, there was always the risk that . . . . . . the risk of what? Shuichi tried to think. He wasn't very good at it right now, watching Ryuichi stand there, on display. Shuichi's conscience was jumping up and down like a small boy wailing, you can't, you can't, you can't. He looked at Ryuichi again. The singer slowly ran his hands up his torso and held out his arms invitingly. He smiled. For the first time Shuichi discovered he had a glowing neon spot inside his brain labeled, 'For temporary parking--Shuichi's conscience here.' He clubbed his conscience, dumped it into the newly discovered space, and walked forward like a zombie. A zombie with fanboy stars in his eyes. He'd only been in love with Ryuichi, like, half his life. "Close the door first," Ryuichi purred. "You've forgotten it." Shuichi shut the door. "No, wait," he protested, leaning against it. "I just can't do this." "Who says you're deciding anything? Your part, remember, is to give me complete freedom for the next hour." Ack, now that he thought about it, this sounded horrible. "No way! That's slavery." "Yes, it is," Sakuma agreed, "but only for an hour." "NO! No, nononononono!" Shuichi yelled, his forehead pressed against the door. He was too busy yelling to hear Ryuichi come up. "Nononono---URK!" Palms, dry and warm, were flowing gently down Shuichi's back. Fingers spread like fans, then slid along ribs, circling around to Shuichi's chest. "Who says you won't like a little slavery?" was breathed against his neck. One long finger sank deeply into his briefs, tonguing at the contents there. "Let's start by taking your pants off," Ryuichi said, resting his chin on Shuichi's shoulder. "For the next hour, remember, you will obey everything I say. Slide them off." A tiny cry escaped Shuichi's mouth. For a second, his hands wouldn't move. Then he began to lower his pants. A thrill of terror went through him as he exposed himself. He felt completely helpless, standing with his pants around his knees. A hand gave a pull at his cock, and let go. One pull, and Shuichi was hard. He felt cool air between his naked thighs, a prodding of another man's erection at his buttocks. He was so hard, he couldn't believe it. Yuki had never excited him like this, with so little. Then Ryuichi turned him around and with gentle pressure forced Shuichi to his knees. Two legs wrapped around him like snakes and both men toppled over. Shuichi was lying on his idol, his face shoved against Ryuichi's cock, his arms pinioned by Sakuma's legs. Ryuichi propped himself up on one elbow, and waited. "Go ahead," he urged. Understanding, Shuichi mouthed the velvety intruder, then let it in. Ryuichi didn't move, except for a moment when he shut his eyes. "Stop," Ryuichi commanded. Shuichi obeyed. The man's legs suddenly flipped him over like a butcher tossing a side of beef. Two hands yanked Shuichi's trousers the rest of the way off. Again, hands flipped him over, and pulled him into doggie position. Fingers made little pokes and taps along Shuichi's cock, and he moaned like an animal. "Admit it. You want to ruin me. You want to pop my fame like a balloon. You want to destroy me. Be honest. You have to obey me, so tell the truth." "No, I don't. I don't want ." A finger shoved ruthlessly inside his ass. "That's for lying. Tell the truth." "Ow!" The finger was joined by another, moving in and out. The pain was cramping. But he was so excited, so near orgasm. "No! I just wanted to be as good as you. I didn't want to beat you, ever!" "The truth." The fingers were manipulating the stones inside his sac, squeezing firmly and releasing. Three fingers in a wide triangle were trying to force in. Shuichi was hard to the point of madness. He reached for himself. "Don't," Ryuichi commanded. With a sob, Shuichi dropped his hand on the ground again. The spearing of a saliva-slicked cock inside him almost made him sick. He wanted to come, so full to bursting. Very slowly, Ryuichi began to move in and out. It seemed to take forever. One of Shuichi's knees squirmed at the tile, the only way he could express his tension. He was there for Sakuma-san to use, nothing more. A palm brushed across the head of his cock, and vanished. Shuichi moaned. The palm passed by again and that was all it took. Weeping fluid began to spill, half-starved for more. But he didn't dare touch himself. He'd come slightly, but not all the way. The thickness left him. Hands grabbed his hips, turned him over on his back. His knees were slung over Sakuma's arms and Ryuichi shoved inside him again. Shuichi was sobbing. He could feel only the occasional brush of Ryuichi's stomach against his cock. Suddenly Ryuichi spread Shuichi's legs completely to either side, like a ballet dancer's, and went still, watching him. Shuichi was spread-eagled, impaled like a butterfly. "Who is the greatest singer ever?" "You are," Shuichi replied. "Who is your God, the one and only, and forever?" "You are." The thrusts started up again, violently this time. Shuichi began to come. Thick and white, a stream pumped out, but only for a second before it was cut off by a sharp pinch. Ryuichi's fist had clenched over the tip. Shuichi could have screamed. He was still craving. He was still hard. Ryuichi had stopped moving. Slowly, Ryuichi rolled the sticky head between two fingers, manipulating the foreskin. Shuichi convulsed backwards in an agony of longing, cracking his skull on the floor. One. Two. Three, and two more, Sakuma's hand suddenly pistoned savagely and Shuichi finally came, thrashing. Hands shoved him flat against the floor and Ryuichi thrust in with the last, deep movements. Warm wetness filled Shuichi. "Say it," Ryuichi demanded, his mouth just above Shuichi's lashes, touching the bridge of his nose. Shuichi's mouth was numb, his eyes clogged with tears. But he understood, and said it. "I love you." "Say more." "I love you instead of Yuki." "Even more." "I'll always love you. I'm yours. Completely yours." An idle fingertip tickled Shuichi's cock, stroking the underside. Shuichi whimpered pitifully. Ryuichi smiled. "I think I like you." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Oh my fucking God," Ryuichi Sakuma shouted into his pillow. He woke up. He was lying in his hotel room, in Los Angeles. Damp from the thighs down, the sheets wet. What the--? Oh, well. Another wet dream. He lifted the sheets back and shook his head in disbelief at all the moisture. So much for pajamas. The maids were going to need an unusually large tip before he left. Then again, maybe he should just rinse the sheets out himself. This was embarrassing. "Stupid cold," Ryuichi said, blowing his nose on a tissue. "I'm glad you didn't see my dream, Kumagoro. I was so weird and mean in it. I'm not like THAT. It must be my fever." He set his bunny upright on the pillow and looked around. "Now, what could have caused it?" He noticed his bedside table. "Aha! The clipping!" Sakano had mailed him a tape along with a clipping. What was the band? Bad Luck, was it? Just a concert recording of a high school band, with a blurb and a photo from the school newspaper. Tohma didn't want to sign them, and Sakano needed Ryuichi's vote at the next NG board meeting to overrule Tohma. Ryuichi studied the clipping. The lead singer was in leather pants and pony tail. Sexy. Well, no wonder he'd had a wet dream. The tape was good, too, though it needed work. But what was all that sadomasochistic stuff in his dream? His terror of being destroyed by--Shuichi, was that his name? Ridiculous. No one could beat him. Ever. He was Japan's greatest musician. But he'd been a real bastard in his dream, and felt bewildered by it. "I'm beginning to think I need a boyfriend, Kumagoro," he said, blowing his nose again. He shrugged. Dreams had their own rules. He studied the photo. Shuichi Shindou. The boy was definitely cute. For a second, Ryuichi's hand moved involuntarily towards his crotch. He halted, confused and embarrassed. What on earth was wrong with him? Then again, maybe it was time he returned to Japan. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Shuichi woke up when a violent bucking motion tossed him right out of his seat. A crash brought him to himself. He was sprawled on his back, lying in an aisle. Seated people were staring down at him. A second later he was swaying on his feet, very wet in a certain spot. "Oh my God, I was fucking Ryuichi Sakuma!" He was standing in the aisle of a bus. A city bus. On the way to school. A bus stuffed with passengers, salarymen, office ladies, and his school mates. All of whom, every damn one of them, having just turned around to see who was yelling this nonsense about fucking Ryuichi. His seatmate, a school girl chewing on a rice ball, watched him solemnly. "I mean," Shuichi feebled, "he was fucking ME. I--I just wanted to make that clear." Everyone was still gaping. Shuichi remembered the motion that had thrown him into the aisle and turned utterly red. He yanked the emergency stop cord, grabbed his backpack, and jumped out the pneumatic doors. He didn't stop running until he was several blocks away, bouncing along the sidewalk next to several lanes of rush-hour traffic. "I can't believe that! A stupid--" A look around, a tiny whisper, "--wet dream." He needed to change his underwear. It was soggy and uncomfortable, but he was going to have to wait until he reached school. As he shouldered his backpack, something fell out of the partially opened zipper. A magazine slapped the sidewalk, a book landing nearby. "Oh yeah! That article." The Bop Peat article about Ryuichi Sakuma receiving another platinum record. The photo showed him flanked by his American manager K, and his producer, Sakano, at the awards ceremony. Shuichi had woven those oddball characters into his dream about Ryuichi. Disgusted, Shuichi snatched up both the magazine and the book. "Dammit! This is Maiko's backpack." Shuichi groaned. He'd accidently grabbed it on the way out, realizing this just before his nap on the bus. He'd found one of Maiko's stupid romance novels inside it, inspected the book with a sneer, fallen asleep, and . . . had the most amazing wet dream of his life. Heh, heh. /God, you'd think I was gay or something. I don't like guys! Well, I might make a teensy exception for Sakuma-san because he's beyond trivial concerns like sexuality, but who the hell is Eiri Yuki?/ A face looked up from the back of the book. Blonde, yellow-eyed. Incredible. He remembered the face, now. This was Eiri Yuki. What was the title? 'Snow.' Shuichi sneered again. Female trash. Anyway, he had to hurry to school. Dammit, some of his classmates had been on that bus. They were going to mock him, slam him into the lockers. It was going to be HELL. The wind picked up, just as he was fighting to stuff 'Snow' inside the backpack. A lyric sheet for his latest song blew out of his jacket pocket, flying right into the heavy car traffic next to him. "No! Oh, shit." He jumped into the street without looking. There came the doppler screams of car horns and brakes. Shuichi grabbed for the paper. The lyrics flitted into the next lane, just out of reach. Cars unleashed rubber trails and screams from lowering windows. The boy was oblivious, chasing his lyrics like a butterfly across a meadow. Suddenly, the paper plunged to asphalt next to a parked Mercedes. A tall man was just stepping out of the car. A foot slapped down on the paper as if killing a beetle. Shuichi looked up. Long blonde hair, a cigarette between slender lips. Two cold yellow eyes. Fingers lifted the paper out from under the foot, and the cigarette was plucked from the lips. The eyes narrowed as they read. "You risked DEATH in traffic for this CRAP?!" said the stranger scornfully. Shuichi blinked. The End.
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