The Fiend Cave

They had met by chance. 

Kurogane had never really been interested in the modeling profession, but when he was going to be starting college, he had realized he needed a job in order to get by. Tomoyo, as a photographer for many high-end fashion companies, had recruited him as a model. And really, it wasn’t work that was all that difficult. He was mostly requested for underwear and beach clothing shoots, and basically anything that left him without a shirt. His default aloof expression worked well, since that’s usually what they wanted from him anyway.

No, the modeling jobs Kurogane got were hardly strenuous for him, so he kept up with it, even after graduation. He still searched for a job relevant to his degree, of course, but it was quite difficult, and as long as he had easy money that paid the bills and put food on the table he wasn’t going to give it up now. Even if he did have to shave his legs. (What was it that people had against normal body hair? Seriously.)

A few months had passed since Kurogane had gotten his degree, and the 22-year-old had yet to find a job in the field. Because of this, he was rather more grumpy than usual at today’s shoot - another underwear line. Adorned in yet another pair of ass-hugging boxer-briefs (this time a warm brown), Kurogane waited not-so-patiently for the stylist.

“Shouldn’t he be here already?” he asked Tomoyo irritably, deciding mentally that this stylist was a dick for being so late.

“But Kurogane, he’s a busy man! He’s one of the best stylists in the industry, and I’m sure he has a very good reason for being late,” Tomoyo answered in that calm, almost patronizing tone. Kurogane grumbled, but said no more as Tomoyo’s visage suddenly lit up.

“Oh, here he is now! Fai-chan! Over here!”

Kurogane’s first impression of the man was that if he got any more flamboyant, he would most certainly be a woman. Or maybe a cross-dresser, but he wasn’t so sure the articles of remarkably tight clothing the man wore hadn’t already come from the women’s section of the store. He was pretty sure some of the girls at his old college had worn similar outfits to interviews.

His second thought was that the blonde man was ridiculously happy for someone who was so busy. there was a difference between enjoying one’s job, and wearing a smile so bright it could probably cause blindness to anyone who stared at it too long. Like the sun, but more artificial.

By this point, the stylist had reached where the two were standing. He bowed deeply in greeting.

“Good afternoon Tomoyo-chan. I’m terribly sorry for being late. The last shoot took longer than I expected,” he explained, glancing at Kurogane. “And I presume this is our model today? He seems so grumpy~ Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome is a grumpy puppy~”

“What the hell did you just call me? It’s <i>Kurogane</i>, you idiot!”

“Hyuuu, Kuro-chan is definitely a big, grumpy puppy~”

Kurogane just barely managed to hold back his scream of rage, but he could see the laughter dancing in the stylist’s eyes. <i>Asshole</i>.

“Well, I think the first thing we need to do is oil up those rippling muscles of Kuro-puu’s. Everyone appreciates that ‘I just worked out’ glisten,” Fai continued, suddenly serious. For the most part. “It might not hurt to bring out his old friend, Mr. Comb, as well~”

“Me and fucking ‘Mr. Comb’ are not friends, moron.”

“...That would explain a lot,” Fai said with a laugh. Kurogane glared at him.

After a few moments of looking Kurogane over, Fai finally got to work, making good on his promise to oil the man’s muscles down. And quite copiously, Kurogane thought to himself. Was that much ‘glisten’ even necessary?

Still, when the stylist was done, even Kurogane noticed (completely objectively, of course) he looked better than he had in any other shoot. Though he would never actually admit this to anyone, even under the threat of death. That didn’t make the man and his obnoxiously bubbly persona any less irritating.

----------- intros are lame --------------

When they finished the shoot, Kurogane thought it would be the last time he saw the flamboyantly irritating stylist. After all, he was sure to find a job soon, right? And then he wouldn’t have to model as regularly anymore, if at all, hence he would never need to run into the stylist again.

Unfortunately, fate tended to be a sly son of a bitch. A couple months passed, and Kurogane found himself at yet another photo shoot, still unable to find his desired job.

This time, it was a men’s formalwear warehouse that had recruited him, meaning he was expected to look as manly as possible in a suit. He arrived early, as usual, and wasn’t forced to wait long before that familiar, synthetically dazzling smile waltzed through the doors.

Kurogane would later hate himself for being so surprised to meet the blonde stylist a second time. Tomoyo had said he was the best in the business, and as long as Kurogane was still in the same business, it was inevitable that they would be working together on certain shoots.

Again, Kurogane was impressed by how skilled the idiotic blonde was at his job. All that had been done was an artful rumpling of the suit. The shirt had been mostly unbuttoned, save for the very bottom, and the tie was left hanging loosely around his neck. But instead of looking like the usual “staged casual” image, Kurogane found he looked entirely natural in the pictures, almost as if they were candids. (Except he didn’t make a habit of wearing suits and lounging around in them with unopened alcohol nearby, but that was probably being a bit too nit-picky.)

He knew that had been mostly due to the blonde stylist. He had picked up on Kurogane’s natural attitude, and instead of trying to fake an image, he had played on the man’s existing characteristics. The blonde really did have a lot of talent.

------------- Kurogane is very observant -------------------

It wasn’t until much later that Kurogane noticed how close they had grown as they worked together more and more frequently. 

For some reason, Fai had been particularly distant upon arriving at the day’s shoot, and his smiles, though as wide as ever, didn’t seem to be quite reaching his eyes.

Kurogane didn’t know how to breach the subject with the man. He had never been one with words. Instead, he pulled Tomoyo off to a quiet corner of the site, out of earshot of the blonde.

“What’s up with him?” was all Kurogane said, watching the stylist fake enthusiasm about whatever another crew member was talking about.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Tomoyo responded, a sad look in her eye. “Today was the day his brother died.”

Kurogane said nothing more, until he and the stylist in question were tucked safely away in the dressing room.

“You know, you don’t have to smile if you don’t feel like it. At least not in here.”

The blonde’s cheerful act did, indeed, drop at the model’s words, replaced by bemusement. After a moment, Fai’s expression molded again into another smile, this time much softer and fonder, and far more truthful than anything Kurogane had seen all day.

Kurogane did his best to ignore the sudden warmth that spread through him as the stylist returned to his work.

------------lulzorz this is longer than I anticipated---------------------

Even if Kurogane had originally anticipated his first kiss with the blonde, he never would have expected it to turn out like this. In fact, if he was being honest, he wouldn’t have anticipated a kiss with anyone to turn out like this, but then again, here they were.

It had been yet another bathing suit shot (Kurogane had been able to wear regular swim trunks instead of a speedo this time), and Fai had been oiling up his chest, as usual. The blonde had been kneeling before the taller man to ensure even coverage from the top of the torso to the bottom. He had straightened up, and his face had been so close to Kurogane’s, and the next thing they knew, their bodies had closed the distance between them, and their lips were locked.

It wasn’t a glorious kiss by any means - it was sloppy and hurried, with teeth clashing and mouths slightly missing the mark in the rush. Still, Kurogane lamented when it ended moments later, the two needing to part for breath. They were both a little pink, and with a soft little cough, Fai untangled his fingers from black hair (when had that happened?), and returned to his work.

The rest of the shoot was both awkward and sexually charged in a way Kurogane had never thought was possible. They parted without saying much more to one another, still lost in their own thoughts on this new development.

--------------- but it’s also shorter lol oops -----------------

Months of sexual tension and heated make-out sessions in the make-up trailer in solo shoots finally built up to their first time together. Neither man was a virgin (the idea of remaining pure until marriage was not something either was prone to believe), which made the whole experience a lot smoother.

Kurogane hadn’t exactly been with another man before, but Fai was experienced enough to guide him through the trickier parts. Even without the virgin factor, there were more than enough uncertain moments between them as their bodies learned to work with one another.

Neither man minded this fact, though. The road to this point had been long, and a bit difficult as they learned to coexist with one another. It wasn’t the greatest night they had ever experienced by any means, but it was enough. And they knew there would be many more nights spent together, just like this.

No, it wasn’t perfect, and it was never what they had expected. But in the end, it had always been inevitable.

----------------line here because wtf dreamwidth is being stupid---------------

Kohane had been the first one to introduce him to the music. As a high schooler, she was of course somewhat up-to-date on the latest trends, whether she wanted to be or not. This particular rapper could be heard on all the popular music stations no less than five times an hour, so it had only been inevitable that the girl listen to his music at some point.

She had told Watanuki about the artist after having gone to one of his concerts, and brought him plenty of merchandise. She had given him some rolled-up posters, and gave him every single one of the CDs available.

“I think you’ll love him,” she told him, with a small, knowing smile. Watanuki, being the ever kind person he’d always been, promised to listen to the CDs soon. He wasn’t sure why she let him know that the rapper was going on a world tour soon.

A couple days after this incident found Watanuki bored out of his mind. Doumeki had gone on a trip that he claimed was for the university, and would be gone for a few months, leaving the duty of bringing supplies to Watanuki up to Kohane. But, since she was in school, she could only come by once a week or so, and she wasn’t due for another couple of days. Along with this, there were no customers this day, either.

On a whim, Watanuki decided to listen to the CDs the high schooler had given him. Without really paying attention to the cover, the forever 17-year-old opened the case, and inserted the CD into his computer. After clicking through a couple requests to update the software, the shopkeeper let default audio player run, deciding he might clean while the CD played.

However, from the very first verse, Watanuki found himself hooked on the music, and unable to tear himself away from the computer. The “rhymes” spoke of women, of loyalty, of being domineered despite that loyalty. Some of the women the (male) artist spoke of were highly mysterious and sultry, and others were loud and frustrating. For some reason, the rapper seemed to love both types of women, though the women often didn’t realize his love in his narratives.

Watanuki had always had a secret fetish for loyal, subtly submissive people, though he would never admit it, save for being under the threat of death (maybe). And the sexy, deep voice that half-sang the verses coming from the computer’s speakers wasn’t all that bad, either.

Before he knew it, Watanuki had listened to every CD Kohane had given him, and he knew he needed more. He <i>had</i> to know who this artist was, so, finally, he read the covers of the CDs. The artist called himself “Shuhzookuh,” and, for some strange reason, his face was noticeably absent from every single CD cover.

Watanuki was about to search on Google, when he suddenly remembered the posters. Posters that were still rolled up somewhere in the storehouse.

With the speed of a demon fresh out of Hell, the shopkeeper went to the storeroom, and set about finding the posters. Many hours and one tornado’s worth of mess later, Watanuki unearthed the precious items from the depths of the storeroom. Carefully, he took them back to his bedroom, and unrolled them gently.

The first poster featured a close-up of Shuhzookuh’s face in an artistic grayscale. Half of the man’s face was covered by huge sunglasses, and a stylized spelling of his title covered most of his neck and chin, but something seemed almost distrubingly familiar about the line of the man’s jaw.

Most of the posters followed the first’s example in partially or completely obscuring the man’s facial features, just enough so that Watanuki still couldn’t put a finger on why the man was so familiar. Finally, the seer managed to find a poster that showed the man’s face clearly, and he froze.

The poster’s golden eyes smoldered at him in a manner so like the real-life counterpart, as Watanuki’s brain pieced together the facts.

A rapper so cleverly named “Shuhzookuh,” that deep voice, songs about loyalty and frustrating, mysterious, domineering women, those damn eyes (so very like his own right eye), Doumeki’s absence that just so happened to coincide with certain tour dates...

The realization hit him hard. Doumeki had been living a double life this whole time! No wonder Haruka had seemed even more amused as of late when Watanuki told him of his grandson’s increasingly busy schedule. 

For a moment, Watanuki wondered if he should be proud of the man’s ability to hide such a thing, ashamed at his own stupidity, or angry that Doumeki had hid this from him at all. But then, another realization hit the man-teen, and his lips curled into a smirk that was very reminiscent of the former Dimensional Witch’s at her most evil. He had a better idea than rage, now...

xxxxxxxThis is a break lolxxxxxxx

Doumeki let out a quiet sigh as he entered the shop. He hadn’t really wanted to go on the tour, but his agents had bugged him about it constantly, until he had finally agreed. Now that it was over, he was glad to return to the shop, and the inspiration for many of his songs. He looked up from taking off his shoes and was startled to find said inspiration leaning agains the wall, waiting for him. 

Though, leaning really was a conservative word for the way Watanuki was practically hugging (or maybe humping...?) the corner between the hall and the entryway. The boy’s slightly large kimono draped off his shoulders in a manner that Doumeki was sure even Yuuko would’ve found indecent. The shop owner’s leg, too, had gone through the front slit in the kimono, and was giving the poor, honest rapper quite a view. (Doumeki briefly wondered if the smaller man was wearing any underwear at all, based on the amount of bare leg he could see.)

But none of that even compared to the half-lidded <i>look</i> the other was giving him, and wasn’t there some sort of law against the face of a seventeen-year-old looking at a man who was already out of college looking at him like that?

“Welcome home, Shuh-zoo-kuh~” the man-boy greeted him with a voice that really belonged in the bedroom instead of greeting his lackey after a long absence. Even through the shock, Doumeki registered Watanuki’s words, and knew that the seer <i>knew</i>.

Doumeki swallowed nervously, not sure if this was punishment or not. Watanuki noticed, and gave him a sinful little smile as he sauntered forward. He stopped in front of the flustered rapper, and stood on his toes to reach the man’s ear, throwing his arms about broad shoulders in the process.

“Now... shall I grant your wish?”

xxxxxxxLol this is another linexxxxxxx

Doumeki sighed contentedly as he lay back on the familiar bed. Had he known Watanuki would offer such <i>amazing</i> sex, he would’ve made his wish <i>ages</i> ago. But then again, the wait probably had helped in paying for it, and it was totally worth it, so he wasn’t going to complain. He had to admit the bondage had been a nice touch, too. Being so vulnerable was pretty arousing, in it’s own way.

In post-coital bliss, he held the smaller frame close, and hoped that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. After all, he would need more inspiration for his upcoming album, in which the narratives would change a bit. (Those women and Shuhzookuh would be getting it on a lot more now. His agents would be happy, too, since they really had been begging him to do that recently.)

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt the seer shift in his arms, and prop himself up to look at the rapper’s face, a small smirk in place.

“By the way, you owe me a lifetime of autographs for this.”