The Fiend Cave

----------------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.”