#micchi's never felt this light before

[valvarads]

46. sayonara, micchi.

bonus:

[cubistemoji]

The first time I met him, he literally ran into me in the hall. I was carrying a stack of handouts, he was distracted. The papers went flying, scattering everywhere. I fell backwards, landing hard on my tailbone. It hurt, but more than that it was going to be a pain to clean up. 

"You couldn't have watched where you were going?" I grumbled, looking up into eyes hidden by dark bangs. He must have had a face, but I can't describe it now. 

—

Then he said, "sorry, I got lost in your beautiful eyes," and I called him a creepy weirdo and scrambled to my feet, grabbing as many pages as I could on my way.

—

"You couldn't have watched where you were going?" I grumbled, but a hand reached out to help me up, and he smiled. His eyes were hidden by his hair, but his smile seemed friendly enough.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm —." His name doesn't matter, it changed all the time. I can't remember the first one anymore.

"And I'm running late, so if you'll excuse me." I picked up the papers and continued on my way.

—

"You couldn't have watched where you were going?" I grumbled, but the guy immediately started apologizing and helping me pick up the papers he'd spilled. Nice of him, I thought.

"There you go," he said, handing me a stack.

"Thanks. You didn't have to do that, but thanks." My face felt hot.

He smiled. I couldn't see his eyes behind his bangs, but his smile was friendly. *What's your name?"

I told him my name in turn, and excused myself from the conversation before I was late to class. When I got there, less time had passed than I thought.

—

I saw him around occasionally after that, the boy whose eyes I couldn't see. He joined the art club with Akko and her friends, the cutest girls in school. Rumor had it he was going to confess to Akko at the end of the school year. Not like I cared. Akko could date whoever she wanted.

—

He joined the art club with Akko and her friends, the cutest girls in school. Rumor had it he was going to confess to the club president at the end of the school year. Not like I cared, I barely knew either of them.

—

He joined the art club with Akko and her friends, the cutest girls in school. Rumor had it he was going to confess to the foreign exchange student at the end of the school year. 

"What about the club president?" I asked, but Akko blinked and said she didn't know what I was talking about. The lights flickered once.

—

He joined the culinary club, with Micchi and president Satomi and Iori and, well, me. He seemed to be more interested in Micchi than cooking, though— apparently they were childhood friends. And that was kind of a pain, I'll admit it, but only because when two out of five people are busy flirting instead of doing the stuff we're supposed to be doing we never finish in time. Otherwise it had nothing to do with me.

—

He joined the culinary club, with Micchi and president Satomi and Iori and me. He seemed to be more interested in president Satomi than cooking, though— I guess he liked the big-sister type. And that was more than kind of a pain, because president Satomi was the president and club leader and she was supposed to be teaching us how to cook and not making googly-eyes at some guy. I told him off for it a few times, but it just made president Satomi giggle and blush even more.

—

He joined the culinary club, but he seemed to be more interested in talking to all of us about everything but cooking— asking Iori what she liked to do after school, making plans to go to a cafe with Micchi on Saturday and then shopping with president Satomi on Sunday, distracting everyone to the point that we barely finished preparing the dough for our milk bread before we had to leave school for the day. And this was frustrating.

I told him off, but I think I just made him scared of me. He started ignoring me instead of trying to talk to me at all.

"We had such a nice club before that guy showed up," I complained to Akko on our way home one day. "Did he do this in the art club too?"

Akko giggled and said, "I don't remember seeing him at art club before, but it's funny to see you all worked up about a boy."

I felt my face get hot again. "It's not like that."

—

He joined the culinary club, and he was a model member— focused, quiet, scrupulously polite to all of us. Micchi and president Satomi tried to tease him a bit, but he didn't really engage much. He wasn't a great cook, sure, but none of us were when we first started. I helped him out a bit, reminding him when to do what. I could feel the other girls looking at me when I did.

"Thank you for your help today," he said after club ended. "Do you think you could give me some extra tutoring before the next meeting?"

I gaped. "You want to come to my house? When we barely know each other?! What kind of a playboy are you?!" 

—

"Thank you for your help today," he said. "Let me get you a drink to repay you."

I frowned. "Isn't that a little much? I just did what any good club member would do for a newbie."

—

"Thank you for your help today," he said. "Please let me return the favor sometime."

"I'll hold you to it," I said, and meant it. 

Then he left to go talk to his friend Tomoda from the basketball club, and I tried to put the conversation out of my mind for the time being.

"Oh my God," Micchi squealed, squeezing my arm, "he's totally into you! And you're totally into him! You guys should date, it'd be so super cute!"

"I hardly know him, how could I date him?" I pulled my arm out of her grasp. 

In the back of my head, a memory flickered of Micchi holding on to him just like this, chattering about how excited she was to see him again after he transferred to our school and how glad she was he joined our club. That time, he let her. Today, he brushed her off, politely telling her he didn't want to make too much of a fuss.

"Maybe you should date him," I said. "Since you're childhood friends and all."

Micchi laughed. "You saw how he was today, didn't you? He's not interested in me at all. He's locked on to you now."

Something about her phrasing seemed strange to me, but I wasn't sure what.

He kept coming to culinary club meetings, and now that Micchi had pointed it out to me I was aware of his attention on me. But it didn't feel like a guy pursuing me. It felt more like he was trying to tame a scared wild animal by slowly gaining its trust. 

"That's because you're hard to approach," Micchi explained. "So he's being careful."

It didn't feel like he liked me at all. I started watching him back, trying to figure out how I could make him do something drastic, show his hand. Show his eyes, which I had still never seen.

After a few weeks of this, I told him I'd like to cash in that favor.

"Um," he said.

The lights flickered.

—

I told him I'd like to cash in that favor.

"Are you sure?" he said. "Right now?" 

We were leaving school after club, but it wasn't a special occasion by any means. 

"Why not? You're not busy, are you?"

—

He scratched the back of his neck. "Micchi actually asked me to go to a cafe with her after club today..."

"I see." A spike of fear ran through me, but I wasn't sure why. Fear and... Disappointment? No, not that. "Never mind, then. Have fun with Micchi."

— 

He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm actually getting extra tutoring today..."

"From a cute girl?" I couldn't resist asking, watching his blank face flush pink. "Never mind, then. Have fun with that."

—

"Sure, okay," he said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Go?" I repeated. "Awfully forward of you, though I guess that's par for the course for your kind."

He looked blanker than usual, then blushed, flustered. "I didn't mean to assume—"

—

"I'm not busy," he said, and faced me expectantly, as if waiting for my command. 

I let him wait for a few seconds, then relented. "Let's go somewhere we won't be disturbed."

I took him to that strip of lawn by the river, just grass and running water and no pretty girls waiting for a chance to talk to the boy with hidden eyes. We sat down on the slope.

"So," I said, cutting to the chase. "What's your deal?"

The lights flickered, even though we were outside.

—

He was silent, frozen still, for what felt like forever.

"Um," he said, eventually, "what do you mean by that?"

"You know, the way you keep chasing every other girl in school, but no one seems to remember you doing it. Your eyes. The way every conversation with you feels like it's happened three times. What's your deal?"

"Um," he said again. "Um."

Something— not light, not darkness, but something I could feel on my skin and face and inside my body— flickered.

—

He scratched the back of his neck. "I actually do have somewhere to be today..."

"Reschedule that. I need to talk to you. It's important!" I grabbed his sleeve. 

Of course, that attracted a crowd, gossip-hungry teenagers gathering like ants around a dropped jelly donut. I heard people whispering about confessions, and how did a frigid bitch like me ever fall for someone as plain as that guy? I felt like crying, or worse. 

I looked up at him, but all I could see on his face was the shadow of his bangs, lips frowning slightly.

The lights flickered.

—

He kept coming to culinary club meetings, but I didn't see him there because I stayed home, bedridden with a horrible migraine for a week straight.

—

He joined the culinary club, and didn't talk to anyone at all, just chopping the carrots and onions in focused silence. I could hear Micchi and president Satomi whispering about him, but I wasn't paying attention to them.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" I tried. Nothing.

"What's your name? What class are you in? What year?" Nothing.

I looked at his attempts at julienning. Big and rough and uneven chunks of vegetable scattered across his cutting board. "You're not very good at this."

He shot me a look then, but still said nothing.

—

He wouldn't say a word, but he cut the vegetables perfectly. 

"Wow, where did you learn that from?" Micchi cooed over my shoulder when we all gathered s around his station. "Definitely not when we were kids, that's for sure."

"That's not right," I said. "That's not right." No one seemed to hear me. 

I shrugged Micchi off me and went to the door, but the moment I turned the handle the lights in the room flared, bright and buzzing loud inside and outside my head, before plunging the room into—

—

I'm carrying a stack of handouts through the hallway. He's running, distracted. I look up, see the shadowy forehead, and take a large step to one side. He trips over nothing, skidding to a stop a few feet past me, and looks around, confused. I turn away quickly and keep walking, my handouts secure in my arms.

My head pounds. My heart pounds. The lightbulbs overhead burst, showering me in shards of glass.

I sink to the floor.

He touches my shoulders and whispers low in my ear, "I can help you with that."

[valeriianz]

Based on @masao-micchi‘s GLORIOUS witch AU. I really want to write more of this verse, so please let me know! I’ve uploaded this to Ao3 as well for any future installments :)

_____________________________________

Many witches and warlocks grow into their power naturally, usually through their family, genetically. It was very common to learn by yourself, witches weren’t independent, but it was expected to take matters into your own hands; inherit the powers passed down to you. Some families were famous for their impressive genealogy, though some infamous by marrying their brothers, sisters, cousins… keeping the bloodline pure.

Some went to the Academy of Magick to hone their powers and rise to power more quickly… if you had money and happened to live close enough to attend the only magical school in the world.

Aziraphale wouldn’t know what that was like… he was very unique in the village he grew up. Always running about by himself, carrying his books and papers like an eager delivery man instead of keeping a bag to hold his belongings like a sane person. And he kept to himself… always in his cottage, passed down to him from his family, or so the villagers suspected. Though he wasn’t a recluse. Indeed, Aziraphale was always up for a conversation when approached and kept an air of positivity and pure joy that was almost tangible wherever he went.

Which was curious because… Aziraphale was always alone. He didn’t have parents, or any noticeable family. His neighbors, if asked, would tell you that they honestly couldn’t remember when Aziraphale had come to their small town, only that one day, decades ago, he had arrived.

They watched him now, leaving out his front door and, with a wave of his hand, locked the door behind him.

Or, attempted to. As Aziraphale walked down the steps, behind him the doorknob fell off and rolled around the porch, unbeknownst to the spry warlock who was now creating distance between himself and the very much, broken door.

His neighbor sighed, taking out his wand and casually lifting the bronze handle and reattaching it to the old wooden door… again.

Aziraphale made his way to the woods, the only tools with him being his wand, a worn notebook, and his potions, held safely in the brown leather belt securing around his tunic, which was an off-white cotton, impossibly soft, from years of use. He hummed to himself, looking around him, taking everything in as he explored deeper into the trees.

His hands came out, gently touching leaves and underbrush as he went, stooping down occasionally to inspect some berries or a curious rock, and as he got closer to water, moss.

Aziraphale began filling the empty pouches in his belt with the moss, settling down at the edge of the stream and taking out his notebook to scribble in while the sounds of bubbling water settled around him, relaxing him.

“Oh, lavender, how lovely!”

Aziraphale got up, dusting off his backside and wandered over to a small patch of wild lavender, sinking carefully to his knees and plucking some up, sniffing, and carefully depositing them into another pocket.

A small hiss made his ear twitch.

“Hm?” Aziraphale looked around, his wide brimmed hat flopping with the effort.

Aziraphale heard the hiss again and looked down, brows furling in determination as he slowly parted the long grass and purple flowers, searching, following the sound of the hissing. His hands stuttered, faltering when he came across the snake, before parting the grass with more confidence.

“Oh, dear. You’re hurt.” Aziraphale spoke softly, reaching a tentative hand out and gently gliding his finger down the black scales. The snake lifted it head curiously, as if taking in Aziraphale, who stopped before his fingers grazed the open wound that stretched almost down to it’s tail.

Aziraphale bit his lip and nodded, scooping up the large snake without warning, not that the serpent could do much to fight him off except coil lazily around Aziraphale’s arm in a warning without any pressure.

“Now don’t fuss,” Aziraphale chided softly, keeping the wound up and away from his palm. “I can patch you up in a jiffy, just need to get you home first. I know I have a remedy, somewhere…”

If snakes could glare, this one did it’s best impression, doing it’s best to keep his head high and watch Aziraphale as he made his way back home.

___________________

“Now I know it’s here, somewhere…”

The snake seemed to watch in trepidation or curiosity, maybe both, as the young warlock riffled through his belongings. Glass bottles clinked loudly and loose leaf pages fluttered angrily to the floor.

The snake observed from the desk he had been placed on, curled up in a ball of shiny black and red, and not just from the wound, Aziraphale had noted. The gorgeous serpent also had a red belly, like a thick stripe from tail to head, all 40ish inches of him, Aziraphale guessed.

Who returned to the snake triumphantly, holding a couple small bottles of different liquids, and a handful of herbs.

The snake recoiled as Aziraphale dumped his loot haphazardly on the flat surface next to it.

“So sorry, dear boy. Didn’t mean to startle you. At least… I think you’re a boy, yes?”

The snake pulled it’s thick tail underneath him, as if in defiance. Azirphale chuckled softly.

“It’s like you can understand me! Okay so, please stay still my dear…”

The snake obliged warily, keeping his ever watchful eyes on Aziraphale the entire time as he worked on the wound.

Aziraphale finished up by wrapping the herbs tight against the open wound with a clean cloth, securing it with a dissolvable tape.

“The bandage is merely a precaution, I know you’ll be able to shimmy out of it, but I’d like to keep the chamomile in place to take away any discomfort you might feel. Oh, how do you feel, pretty snake?”

The snake looked away, around the room, taking in the mess of books, bottles, jars, ink and so on, and back to Aziraphale. He slithered toward his elbow, perched on the desk and curled around it, flicking his tongue out.

Aziraphale’s eyes drooped in content, watching the snake with fondness creeping into his chest.

“I must admit I’ve never cared for a snake before, or any living creature, really…” He trailed off, looking out the window. “But I’m already growing very attached to you. Would you like to stay here with me? You don’t have to, of course.” Aziraphale babbled on, laughing at himself.

“I have a garden, maybe you’d like it? You could keep away the rodents for me!”

The snake made a face, if possible, that may have mirrored disgust at the thought of eating mice, but Aziraphale figured he was just imagining it.

___________________________

Later that evening, Aziraphale was seated in his favorite chair, reading, when he felt the tell-tale sensation of being watched. He looked up and noticed the large snake curled on the rug in front of the fire mantel, his head poking out of the bundle he had coiled himself into, and watching Aziraphale with eyes that flickered golden, not unlike the fire crackling behind him.

Azirphale smiled lightly to himself, feeling a tad unnervered but also comfortable, protected somehow. Like the snake was watching over him. He looked back down to his book, content in the silence.

After a long moment, Aziraphale nearly halfway through his book, he looked up again, and the snake was still watching. He took note of his page and set the book aside, drawing his legs up and tucking his bare feet underneath him.

“I’m a warlock, if you couldn’t tell already.” He started softly. A part of him felt a little silly, talking to a snake, but something told him his new house guest was anything but an ordinary serpent. Said serpent's head lifted slightly, as if listening. Aziraphale hesitated, looking down at his clasped hands, fiddling with his pinky ring, before continuing.

“You seem very clever, have I gotten your attention?” He looked up again. The snake bowed it's head, body twisting slowly to unravel himself a bit, relaxing.

Night had fallen outside, the only light in the room was the flickering fire and the small table lamp next to Aziraphale. He always liked the dark, it was quiet and everywhere and always present, even during the day. Aziraphale was fascinated and elated that the snake had stuck around all day into the late night. The warlock had left him alone after healing him, allowing the snake to explore around the cottage, keeping a eye out as the snake meandered through his texts and dusty bookshelves, only managing to knock a few things over.

He never did go outside, the snake. Aziraphale caught him, more than once, looking at the books, really looking at them, as if reading the words, studying the runes and symbols scribbled onto the parchment. Aziraphale briefly wondered if he brought an evil spirit into his home, but upon further inspection, concentrating on the snake's aura, Aziraphale found the snake... complicated to read. But at least he wasn't evil.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Aziraphale asked the snake, not expecting an answer, but it was nice to talk to someone.

The snake tucked it's head underneath it's tail, and didn't reemerge. Aziraphale laughed softly.

"Very well, I'll let you be." He finished, picking up his book again and starting from where he left off.

After a few minutes, the snake's head popped back up, looking at the warlock again, and felt himself drifting to sleep.

[philipsgaiamemories]

Dance for Me

[A request from @askrikkaiandhyotei “ 💃 Can I please see a fic of Kouta stripteasing Micchy?”, Im sorry it took so long, I just wasn’t sure what to write, until it hit me!]

Fandom: Kamen Rider Gaim

Relationship: Kureshima Mitzusane ‘Micchy’ / Kazuraba Kouta

Summary: Micchy’s world was dull and gray, until a chance encounter while he was looking for something to soothe his boredom.

Rating: Explicit

For once, Kureshima ‘Micchy’ Mitsuzane was thankful that he normally was shielded from the public eye, forced to put on disguises to cover his face.  The name Kureshima though, was associated with his brother, Takatora, and the mighty empire of a company he ran; so, whenever Micchy was found in public, he was swarmed by the press.  It was to the point that no one out of the boys personal circle knew his face.

Today, his anonymity was a gift.  It allowed the lean young male to walk the streets completely undisturbed once he got away from his pesky bodyguards.  Micchy needed this, the time away from being the ‘perfect little brother’, away from the shadow of his older sibling to roam free. Usually on days like this, the dark haired boy found his way into the unsavory part of town, bathing in the bright lights of the red light district.  There was something about the area, the loud hum of bass music leaking out of the streets, the air thick with cigarettes and alcohol that allowed the boy to feel…to feel…something.

The lean boy stopped, his gaze shifting up, suddenly noticing his surroundings.  In front of him was a new place, signs decorating the black-out windows, ‘Now Open! Amazing dancers! Upscale drinks on special!’

“Sir! Sir! I see you looking at our sign! Why don’t you come on in and check us out?! Drinks are on special!”

Tilting his head, Micchy watched as the bar’s barker eagerly motion towards the entrance, a wide pleading smile on his lips.  Normally the boy would walk past places like this, not interested in what the provided, but today something about the place sparked his curiosity.

And before he knew it, Micchy’s lips formed the words, “Sure.”

In a blink of an eye the lean boy was ushered into the bar, all of his senses suddenly being attacked with loud thudding music, perfume, and alcohol.  The place was dimly lit, except for the lavish center stage, surrounded by intimate little seating areas. Most of them were occupied, men laughing it up with women, flirting in their own private space. 

Sliding into an empty space at the stage, Micchy ran his fingers through his dark short tresses. Before he knew it, there was a glass of a sweet wine in his hand, compliments of the house to try to loosen him up. Taking a small sip the boy leaned back in the seat, this was going to be an adventure. 

"INTRODUCING THE SWEETEST OUR BAR CAN PROVIDE-"

Micchy inwardly groaned, the cheesy introduction coming over the speakers. The music suddenly changed, turning into deep base reverberating through the boys lean body. Stage lights flashed, cutting into the fog, giving the whole place a beautiful glow. The music began to rise, the beat getting harder and harder, until it suddenly stopped, the lights going dark-

"Ah!" Gasping Micchy blinked as the lights came back suddenly, a lean form of a male dancer standing in the middle of the stage.  He was dressed in a loose tank top, one strap falling off his shoulder, as his arms were crossed his lean chest.

“LORD YUKI, THE JUICY”

The music began, and with the first beat, the boys head rolled, his whole torso rolling slowly with the lazy movement.  His whole body turned to face the crowd, the dancer’s body swaying with the music, his hand going into his dark chocolate hair.  Long fingers pushed his tresses back, allowing Micchy to finally see the boys handsome face.

A wide pleased smile cut through the boys handsome face, as he began to dance across the stage with the grace of a professional.  He owned the area, his thin hips leading him, in the most sinful way that captured Micchy’s complete attention.  Quickly, Micchy found himself sucking in breath whenever his body moved in a way that the boys tank top would rise up just enough to give him a peek of that pale skin underneath.  It was barely enough to get a good look, but just that little allowed Micchy to see the gentle curve of the dancer’s hipbones from beneath the loose sweatpants that he wore.  

Entranced, the mogul’s brother leaned forward, completely disregarding his drink, completely under the boys spell. He watched with interest as the boy easily fell to his knees on the beat, his hips gyrating perfectly to the rhythm.  The dancer ran his fingers through his short tresses, before those hands traveled down his front, leaning forward so that he could be on his hands and knees.  

And that’s when their eyes met.

Micchy’s heart skipped, those amused brownie eyes of the other focusing solely on him. The club seemed to melt away, the people, the lights, the noise… everything.  Nothing else mattered except for him, the dancer, and the music.  

Falling into the rhythm of the music, the dancer’s hips grinding forward in the most cock twitching way. Without breaking his gaze, the boys body rolled and rocked, obviously fucking an invisible lover beneath him.  But what really caught his attention the sexy way that the boy bit the corner of his bottom lip.  For a second, Micchy imagined being the one underneath him, feeling those deep thrusts, his fingers clawing into that perfectly arching back.  Heat began pitting at his waist, fleetingly wondering how firm the boys body would be against his.

Shifting in his seat, Micchy suddenly came out of the thoughts, the sharp twitch of his interested cock bringing him out of his daydreams.  Shaking his head, the boy took in a sharp breath trying to will his body to calm down.  What was he doing? Fantasizing over a dancer in a club like a horny teenager?!

‘Get a hold of yourself-‘

But the words died in his throat watching the boy in front of him sit back onto his ankles before grabbing at the hem of his shirt.  That dancer’s smoldering gaze never left Micchy’s as he effortlessly tore open his shirt down the middle, rolling his body to the slow driving beats of the music.

The young mogul’s brother would not have thought the lean boy had muscles beneath his clothes, but to his surprise, he feasted on gorgeous curves all over the dancer’s chest.

‘Fuck…’  Micchy’s throat suddenly felt dry, watching as the dancer’s fingers trailed down his front before pulling the fabric off his form. His own fingers twitched from where they sat in his lap, a sudden desire to touch that skin overcoming him.      

Without missing a beat, the boy got up from his kneeling position, running his fingers through his dark hair as he continued to gyrate.  It was a tease, forcing Micchy’s gaze to go back to his handsome face, and that dreamy expression he held.  

Just the simple act caused fire to shoot down to his waist, the boy finding it so incredibly arousing. The dancer’s hands slid down lower before hooking his thumb into the hem of his loose sweat pants.  Teasingly he tugged the fabric a little lower down his waist, showing off the tempting dip of his hip bone, before tearing his gaze away from Micchy.

The lean boy turned away on the stage, before grabbing at the fabric, yanking it away with dramatic flair.  The pants easily gave away, giving Micchy a perfect view of the boys perfect backside. His eyes greedily followed the curves of the boys spine, before taking in the tight booty shorts underwear which hugged his perfectly round ass. Swaying his hips, the boy spread his legs shoulder length apart, before reaching behind himself, smacking his ass.  The music was slowly coming to me an end, the show almost over now that the boy was in his underwear.

Gods, what Micchy wouldn’t give for the music to continue, for the mysterious boy to continue dancing for him.  The boys mouth was practically salivating, staring at the perfectly round ass the dancer possessed.   The spell the boy was weaving was wearing off, reality crashing back with the crowd’s uproar.

As the song was ending, the boy got on his hands and knees, crawling on the stage slowly as money was thrown at him from customer’s stage side.  He made a show of it, moving with catlike grace across the space, the muscles raising and falling like ripples of water.  The dancer was smiling brightly, not bothered at all by the paper money being shoved into the hem of his tight briefs.

In the background Micchy could hear the announcer saying something, probably dismissing this mysterious dancer. But the mogul’s brother couldn’t focus on it enough to know what was being said.  All he could focus on was the way the greasy customer’s fingertips would linger ever so slightly on the skin of the lean dancer.  Biting his lower lip, Micchy felt the intense burn of jealousy run through his veins, glaring at those who touched the lean boy.  It was stupid and he knew that, the boy was obviously here to entertain and use his body to gain money.  But at the same time, a dark thought crossing his mind.

‘How dare you touch him…’

Finally after collecting the money, the mysterious dancer stood up straight in the middle of the stage taking one last deep bow, before disappearing into the back allowing Micchy one last glance at his ass.  The spell finally gone, Micchy felt his whole body sink into the seat, his tense muscles immediately relaxing.  

Reaching for his forgotten drink, Micchy tossed it back, frustration taking over him.  Every nerve in his body was buzzing with need, but the one that caused it was gone.  What was he going to do now? He couldn’t get up and search for the dancer, his obvious bulge protruding from his pants.  But what would he do if he found him?  It wasn’t like he could ask the other to-

“Hey~”

Gasping, Micchy looked up, realizing that he was lost in thoughts for so long that someone had snuck on him.

He couldn’t believe it, right in front of him was the gorgeous dancer that captured his attention on that stage.  But he was now just dressed in just a pair of hip hugging booty shorts, his whole torso glistening from probably a mix of oil and sweat. Gods, now that he was up close he could really see every muscle that decorated the boys body, and every dip of his soft curves.    

Tearing his gaze away from the dancer’s chest, Micchy tilted his gaze up into the boys amused eyes. Trying to keep his voice steady, the boy replied back with a soft, “Hi.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you in the crowd…”  The dancer started, his eyes slowly crawling down the lean boys body.  

Flushing hotly under the gaze, the boy squirmed, knowing exactly what the other was looking at.  The dark haired stranger smiled even brighter before flicking his eyes back up to meet Micchy’s.  

“And…I take it you liked what you saw…”

Of course he did, he could he not?!

Running his fingers through his dark hair, the mogul’s brother tried to play it cool.  “ I did…”

“Heh…Name’s Kouta…” The dancer introduced himself, disregarding his stage name, before leaning in, “…Ya know, I could take care of that…if you want.”

“Eh?”  The throb in his pants was undeniable, urged on by the soft sensation of the boys breath on his ear.  “I didn’t think you could-“

A chuckle danced from Kouta’s lips, “We can control who we do what with…and you seemed so eager…”

Micchy knew that he should control himself, knowing how much of a scandal it would be if anyone found out, but that offer was too good to resist.

Nodding gently, the boy whispered, “Where can we go?”

Stepping back, Kouta wagged his finger at him, slow and easy like an incubus leading their pray. “This way.”

Carefully getting up from the seat, the rich boy sucked in his breath, immediately feeling the discomfort from his arousal.  Luckily, everyone around him was too busy with their own parties, and drinks to notice the obvious tenting.  Quickly moving through the crowds he followed the lean dancer past a sheer curtain, and a pair of bouncers guarding the space.  

The dancer quickly swiped a card across a black reader, the door unlocking, allowing the two to slip right in.  

“Ah!”

Kouta flipped the switch on the wall behind them, flooding the cozy space with warm light.  Although the place didn’t look that big on the outside, in this private area, it was quite roomy.  There was a small bed, just big enough for two people to lay next to one another, with a small dresser sitting next to it.    

“Now~”

Micchy took a sharp breath, feeling the boy’s hands slide around his waist from behind.  Confident finger’s reached for his belt, toying with the buckle, as Kouta’s face nuzzled into the boys neck.  Shivering the young customer felt the dancer’s breath against is ear, his lips barely brushing against the lobe, teasing his sensitive flesh.

“…Let’s take care of this mm?  Shall we start?”

Squirming underneath the fingertips, the boy nodded, tilting his head to brush his own nose against the other.  Unable to control himself, Micchy’s hips shifted, shamefully trying to feel more of the dancer’s hands.  But the hands didn’t stay there long, within a blink of an eye, the flimsy dress shirt that the boy was wearing parted, easily exposing his lean chest. Micchy’s heart thundered loudly in his chest, this was all happening so fast for him.  He had just met the dancer, barely knew him, but yet…

Micchy was drawn to him…desired him…and he was going to indulge in these feelings. What was so wrong with that?!

Another amused chuckle danced in the boys ear, those hands making quick work of the belt, and Micchy’s pants button.  Fabric easily gave way to those featherlight touches, falling around the boys ankles with ease, along with his shirt.  

A shiver shot down Micchy’s spine, feeling something firm press right into his back as Kouta rolled his hips forward.  Was he already-

“Mm…!” A soft whine escaped the young customer, the sensation of the boy pressing his pleasure more insistently into him. It was all a distraction though, as he did that Kouta busied himself by hooking his fingers into Micchy’s boxers, pulling with down just enough his pleasure to slide out.  

Now satisfied, Kouta gave Micchy a gentle nudge with a soft whisper, “Sit down…”

“Ah…!”

The bed creaked underneath Micchy, the mattress sinking slightly as Kouta joined the boy on the bed, straddling his lean waist.  Watching eagerly, Micchy bit his lower lip, the dancer’s hands sliding in between the small space between them.  He had hoped that those hands would relieve the aching need that was quickly consuming him but instead, they reached for the dancer’s pants.  With ease, he managed to undo his booty shorts, his half hard pleasure standing up from the parted fabric.

Licking his lips subconsciously, just the sight of Kouta’s cock made Micchy’s mouth water in anticipation. Never had he felt such a powerful and overwhelming urge to slide someone into his mouth, and suck them dry.

The dancer though had his own idea on how to keep his customer busy.

“Mm~”  

While Micchy was distracted with the sight, Kouta had leaned in, capturing his lips in a lazy kiss. Melting immediately into the sensation, the pinned boy let out a low moan, giving himself over to what the dancer was offering.  Gods, his lips tasted like candy, a sweet delicious citrusy treat that the boy immediately became addicted to.  And the way he kissed…

Micchy’s toes were curling in his shoes, quickly becoming breathless, while is hands slid around the boys waist, pulling him closer.  Just as he thought, Kouta’s body was firm to the touch, his fingers sliding across those beautiful lines of muscles that enraptured him earlier.  

A low whine escaped the boys lips, feeling the dancer’s warm tongue probe teasingly at his mouth, “Mmph…~”

Unable to resist, Micchy’s lips parted, allowing Kouta’s tongue to slither right in.  The young customer’s head was swimming, feeling the dancer’s tongue play with his.  It wasn’t as if this was his first time kissing but…Kouta left him dizzy, and hot.

“Ah~~!”                      

“Mmm~!!”

Their kiss suddenly broke, as the two moaned in unison, Micchy’s hips bucking uncontrollably as he felt Kouta’s hand wrap around both their pleasures.  

“K-Kou-nng!”

Blood shot down the lean boys body, feeling his length slide right against the hot cock of the other. It was like all of his nerves lit up at the same time, sparks shooting up his spine as Kouta’s hand began moving up and down.  The slow pumping sensation made his eyes fluttered closed, his hips rolling to follow the lazy motions of the dancer’s delicate hand.  

The sounds of the club outside the room melted away for Micchy, as he leaned forward, blindly crashing his lips against the other.  A soft grunt of approval escaped Kouta’s lips, his hand squeezing around the both of them.  Trembling, Micchy hungrily kissed the dancer, losing himself in the sensation of the other boys mouth.  

“Ah…”  Tilting his head back slightly, the young customer felt Kouta’s hand slide into his hair, pulling it slightly.  The sensation just egged Micchy on, his hands sliding from around the dancer’s waist, before dipping into the boys shorts.  

Shit…Kouta’s ass was as perfect as he imagined, firm, smooth…squeezable.    

A soft pleased purr escaped the dancer’s perfect lips, his hips thrusting up in response to Micchy’s eager squeezing, sliding both their hardened pleasures together.  Gods, that sound was cock twitching, causing the mogul’s brother to ache painfully from the pleasure.  

Encouraged by the sound, the boy squeezed again, his fingertips kneading the boys ass, silently urging Kouta on.  The dancer’s hand moved faster between them. The sound of wet flesh and low whines echoing loudly in the room.  Their greedy kisses quickly became messy, heavy pants and gasps escaping them, as the coil of fire in Micchy’s gut became tighter and tighter.  

“S-Shit…M-o…More~…” Micchy almost didn’t recognize his own voice, quivering against the other boy as their swollen balls brushed against one another.  “Mo-Ahhh~”

A sharp throb ran through the boys body, his words dying in his throat as Micchy thrusted up into the dancer’s small hands.  Kouta’s hips fell into a slow rhythm, rocking lazily above the other even though his hand worked busily between them.  The frustratingly slow motion just fanned the fire within Micchy’s body, making him ache even more for release, his body trying to quicken the pace.  

He was just so close! The slow sensation of sensitive flesh rubbing against one another, and the dancer’s expert hands stroking, was bringing the mogul’s brother into a state of blissful mindlessness.  

“…Go…a-ahead…” Kouta dipped his head, his swollen lips brushing against Micchy’s neck. He tugged at his customer’s hair even harder, teasing the exposed flesh even more “I..c-an..feel you…-”

Quivering, Micchy let out a low pathetic whine, that rough treatment pushing him further towards the edge. Those lips though didn’t stay still, they traveled up his neck, to his chin until he could feel the dancer’s lips wrap around his ear, nipping it gently.  

“…Y-You’re…so…cl-ose-HNNG,” Kouta’s shaky breath danced in Micchy’s ear, sending a shudder of anticipation down the boys spine. “…I-I can…fe-el you…t-twit-ching!...F-fuck…Y-you feel…so…GOOD…!”

And with those encouraging words, Micchy lost control, the damn of heat that was bubbling up within him finally spilling out.  “A-AA-HH-MMMPH!!”

A loud pleasured moan fell from the boys lips as he quivered violently underneath the dancer, stars exploding before his eyes.  Hot release shot out between them, covering both the dancer’s and Micchy’s lean abs, painting the two in white.  Loud buzzing filled the mogul’s brothers ears, every nerve in his body sizzling from his powerful release.  

“A…AH~” Kouta’s voice rose, a mix of gasps and needy moans filling Micchy’s ears.  

Micchy was quivering against the dancer, still riding his high as the dancer’s hand still continued to stroke their lengths together.  “Mm~!”

His dark eyes fluttered opened, tilting his head, to stare back up into Kouta’s handsome face.  The handsome dancer’s eyes were fully blown from arousal, his lips parted allowing incoherent noises to fall freely from his mouth.  Micchy’s felt the breath being knocked from his lungs, that expression… he had never seen someone look so…erotic…

The boys gaze dragged down the dancer’s body, completely mesmerized by the sight of Kouta’s hand sliding up and down their cum covered cocks.  Micchy could feel the urgency raising within the other boy, his hand applying more pressure around their twitching pleasures, moving faster until-

With a gentle twist of his wrist, Kouta let out a loud shameless moan, signaling he was close.  After a few more strokes. the dancer’s whole body suddenly convulsed, his white hot release splashing all across Micchy’s stomach. “MM-mm!”

A look of pure bliss washed over Kouta’s handsome face, the young dancer unable to control himself as his hips stuttered against his lean customer.  The boys hand never stopped though the dancer’s delicate hand pumping their softening lengths lazily, milking the both of them for every drop of release they had.    

Reaching out, Micchy slipped his fingers through the dancer’s dark silky hair, gently pushing his head forward so he could capture Kouta’s lips.  The boy trembled against him, melting against the slow, intimate kiss. Even while his body was heavy, boneless, Micchy still wanted to feel connected to the handsome dancer in his arms.  

“Ah…”  Kouta let out a soft sigh as they finally pulled away from one another, their bodies falling still.

Micchy’s brownie eyes fluttered open, the soft sound of the dancer slowly bringing him back into reality. Tilting his head, his darkened gaze finally focused back on the handsome boy, still straddling his legs.  Kouta’s eyes were half lidden, and completely unfocused, almost hidden underneath the boys sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead. His kiss swollen lips were parted, softly panting, still clutching onto Micchy’s short hair.  The dancer’s body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and release, just making him look just utterly…perfectly…wrecked…

The sight caused a rush of lewd images to bubble up within Micchy’s mind.  Instead of just touching one another, the Micchy imagined them doing more…Kouta pinned underneath him, making those soft delectable noises, his body arching against the boys touch.  The sweet sensation of claiming Kouta, pushing himself deep into the boys body, feeling that delicious heat squeeze, and surround him.  

Just the thought made his throat to go dry with raw desire.    

“Mm…that….felt…amazing…“

Kouta had leaned in, sighing contently, bumping his nose gently against the chin of mogul’s brother.

Nuzzling back gently, Micchy’s lips curled up in a lazy smile, his voice barely a whisper “…I want to see you again…”

The handsome dancer lifted his head, his eyes dancing excitedly before softly replying, “Well…you can always check my schedule-“

“No…” Sliding his hand from the boys hair, Micchy’s cupped the boys face, his thumb stroking Kouta’s flushed cheek.  A schedule? Just the idea of someone else touching the other, kissing him, seeing him exposed, and hearing those sweet needy noises, drove the boy mad.

“Eh?”

“…I…want all night with you…I want…to take our time…” Brushing his thumb across the dancer’s lips, Micchy murmured, “…Clear your schedule all week…Ill make it worth it…”

It was crazy, the amount that the boy was offering to pay but Micchy was addicted.  And for once he was going to indulge in something that made him feel something in his dull world.  

Kouta’s lips parted, a surprised expression crossing his face as he shivered with the authority in Micchy’s tone. “…Y…You want…to see me…that much? …”

“...Say yes…”

After a moment of silence, the dancer nodded his head, wordlessly agreeing to the wild demand.  

Brushing his lips teasingly across Kouta’s, Micchy smiled, pleased that he got his way.  “…Shall we go clean up then...You should rest for tomorrow.”

“Mm! I’ll be waiting for you…Oh wait…Shouldn’t I know the pleasure of the person’s name who stole me from the other customer’s?”

Ah…that’s right! Micchy never introduced himself to the other, wanting to keep this whole thing anonymous. But, with his demand, wasn’t complete anonymity pointless? Plus, the dancer trusted him enough to tell him his first name…

Finally, in a faint whisper, the young customer whispered, “It’s…Micchy…”

“Micchy mm? What a cute name! I cant wait until we finally really get to know one another!”

[philipsgaiamemories]

The Prince & the Servant

Was bored at work, and decided to write a drabble inspired by @awesomewritingprompts​ (Genre: High Fantasy, Person: Terrible Writer, Problem: Wedding Needing to be stopped)

Fandom: Kamen Rider Gaim

Relationship: Kouta/Micchy

Summary: Much to the horror of Scribe in Training Micchy, Prince Kouta is about to marry the Princess Mai.  Is there a way for Micchy to stop this sham of a wedding? 

Today was the day...

 The small scribe apprentice sighed heavily, lifting his gaze up from the beige parchment he was writing on.  Placing the feather pen back in the well, he rubbed his dark eyes, sore from the flickering lantern lights in the royal library.

 Today was the day that the Prince, his Prince, married that women, the Princess which will merge the two aligned countries.  It was the perfect political move for the two kingdoms...but for Mitsuzane Kureshima , it was a nightmare coming true.  Although he was of common blood, Prince Kouta Kazuraba when they were young blessed him with kindness, saving him from the streets as a child. and even giving him the nickname, "Micchy".  The  two grew up together quickly becoming inseparable, even sleeping in the same bed.  Their bond grew deeper and deeper, until the two didn't know where the friendship ended, and shy intimacy began.  Then one night as boys do, they were wrestling in bed before sleeping, and their lips brushed up against the other.  That sensation...it was just, right... and from that moment on the boys could not keep their hands off one another in private.  It was insane, a boy of royal blood, and a common stray having an  intimate relationship? And although they couldn't say it in the light of day, they proclaimed their love for one another in their stolen glances, and lingering touches.  And to prevent suspicion the Prince set Micchy up with an apprenticeship with the royal scribe, so that the boy could not only learn a skill, but an excuse to always be near him.  

 But now...

 Even though he knew the Prince wanted to prevent it, he was pushed into being into a relationship with the Princess Mai, from the neighboring country. Micchy could see the immediate change in Kouta's personality, the normally warm royal stiffened at the mention of her name.  Every time they were near one another he kept his distance from the Princess, keeping respectful, and courteous.  But that didn't stop the girl from trying to get close.  Reaching out for him, gently touching his hand, soft words, as if they were star crossed lovers. 

 There was no love there...and yet...SHE got to stand on the other side of the alter from the Prince.   And even though they outgrew sleeping in the same bed, it didn't stop the small scribe in-training from being jealous.  How could she just waltz right in, and act as if she had the Prince's heart? But as angry as he was, what could he do? Even though he was given so much freedom, and privileges others dreamed about, he was still just a lowery servant.

 DING DING DING

And there it was, the sounds of the castle bells calling all servants to put down their duties and celebrate the beginning of the wedding.  The kind Prince wanted the non-essential servants and staff to celebrate the ‘happy day’, and take the rest of the day off.

“You are still here?”

Jumping in his seat, Micchy looked up, staring up at the red headed Royal Scribe, Jonouchi Hideyasu.

“Hideyasu-sensei-“

“Go on…I know you’ll get let in if you show up…” Adjusting his thin frames, the master scribe flashed a wry smile before gracefully walking off.  

Biting his lower lip the lean scribe-in-training stared down at his shoddy attempt to recreate a spell on the parchment.  But…he didn’t really want to go to this fiasco wedding. As much as Micchy wanted to be there for his secret lover, he couldn’t imagine watching him give his life to a complete stranger.

Pushing himself out of his seat, the boy carefully put his things away, and walked out of the royal library.

But yet…

He found himself wondering the hallways towards the ceremony, the guards paying him no mind and easily allowing him through. Quickly he slipped into the grand hall, now lavishly covered in wedding décor, the dangling gems, and silk streamers carefully placed around to make a fairy tale scene.  The flowers so fresh that the room smelled of roses… Everyone was chatting in excitement, but none of that mattered the moment Micchy lifted his eyes to the alter.

In his rightful position, dressed in beautiful white and gold regalia was Prince Kouta, his Prince.  He was smiling, speaking to others from the court, but Micchy could see the anxiety radiating from him.  Those tale-tells signs that no one could see.

Micchy wanted to run up to him, to console him somehow, but suddenly the music swelled, and the ceremony began.  Everyone began to gather, leaving the center aisle for the Princess-bride to walk through. Micchy squeezed himself behind a Lady, peering over her shoulder as the bride walked down, dressed in virgin white, and diamonds.  As much as the scribe didn’t want to admit…she sparkled…

The rest was like a dream, the voice of the Priest as they started reciting the sacred text.  The sounds of Kouta firmly saying he would take her as his wife. It was all too much…

“Does anyone have any reasons why our Prince cannot marry the Princess?”

Of course no one spoke…who would?

"I do!" Suddenly a voice rose up in the silence, a familiar voice...Micchy's voice. He put his delicate hands over his mouth, his eyes wide like saucers.  Why did he speak up?! How could he interrupt such an important day to his Prince? 

 The people around him stepped aside, hushed whispers rising up all around him.  Micchy's dark eyes darted back and forth feeling dread fill him, seeing the guards slowly coming towards him for the outburst.

 The Priest roared, "Who dares interrupt this sacred ceremony!"   

Once again, Micchy looked towards the Prince for help, his eyes screaming with fear.  He had never once spoken up against the Prince, and here he was defying this unison.  'Please...stop all of this...' 

 "Take him to the dungeon." 

 'Dungeon?!' The scribe-in-training gasped sharply, "M-Majesty please..." 

 Kouta's voice was firm and powerful, cutting through the crowd’s hushed noises.  “I will be there in a moment.”

 The guards were quick and swift, taking the lean boy by the arm, and pulling him along through the crowd.  Micchy’s heart pounded against his small chest as he was quickly dragged through the hallways and down the dungeon stairs. He had never been to the dungeon, and it smelt dank and moldy from disuse.

 He was pushed into the first open cell, the loud clanking of the metal bars closing vibrated through him.  The lean scribe began to pace frantically around the small confides, his fingers in his dark tresses. What did he do? How could he stop something so important?! How could he speak against the one he held so dear?

 It didn’t take long for the sounds of heavy footsteps on the dungeon stairs, followed by the head bodyguard, Kaito Kumon, and the Prince himself.  Micchy went up to the bars eagerly, momentarily forgetting the situation at hand, before locking eyes with Kouta and it all coming back to him again.  His gaze fell, shifting in his place like a child about to be scolded.

 “Leave us.”

 “My Lord? But-“

 “Leave Kaito. He can’t do anything behind bars.”  

 The large bodyguard hesitated for a moment before bowing to his master, and quickly excusing himself back through the door. After a moment, when Kouta felt safe that they were alone, he turned back to the boy behind the bars, a frown dancing on his face.

 “Your Maj-“

 “Stop.” Kouta shook his head, his dark hair flying around his boyish face, “What were you thinking Micchy? Today of all days you speak out like this?”

 Placing his hands on the cold bars, the scribe moved closer to the man, his voice barely above a whisper.  “My Prince…please do not marry her. She doesn’t know you as I do…How could you let her in like this, she doesn’t love you!”

The royal’s face softened, warmth filling his eyes. “Micchy…you knew this is how my life would end up being.”

 “I’m a Prince, so I have to marry a Princess and continue this lineage.” Scoffing, Kouta leaned up against the bars by Micchy’s face, feeling the boy’s familiar breath on his skin. “We had to stop this at some point…you know that…”

 “Bu-But I LOVE you.” Micchy whispered desperately, knowing that after today everything was going to change, “I know we cant be together officially but…I can’t stand the idea of her touching you…being with you always…”  

 Suddenly there was a rustling causing both of the boys to spilt apart as if they were caught red handed.

 Stepping through the doorway was the Princess still dressed in her virgin white. A frown placed on her lips as she pushed the door closed behind her.

 “Your Highness,” Moving away from the bars, Micchy did a small bow, “I’m sor-“

 “Mai, I’m so sorry for this! Please don-“

 She lifted her small hand, silencing the boys, her small eyes moving between the two. The Princess sighed lightly, crossing her arms across her small chest a thoughtful look in her gaze.

 “I see…” Mai whispered softly, an eyebrow lifting, “ It makes sense now…all those looks, and the way you run off while I am around. You love him.”

 Micchy felt his heart drop as the Princess laid out their secret, dread filling his whole body.  If she revealed it, she could not only condemn him to jail forever for touching royal skin in such a sinful manner, but destroy the Princes’ reputation. Shaking his head furiously Micchy waved his hands trying to dismiss the idea.

 “P-Princess that’s not it at all! Please!”  His cheeks burned hotly, wishing that he could say what he wanted to say. To tell her that she didn’t belong, and that she ruined everything, but he had to remember his place. He was nobody compared to this Princess.

 “It’s okay Micchy, after hearing this, I want to admit something too…” She started, “Just as you care for this boy Kouta…I love someone else that I shouldn’t, and I am to marry someone I do not love.”

 Wringing the fabric in her fingertips the three fell quiet, unsure where to go from here.  It seemed as if all three were caught in a political game that none wanted to be in. The world expected so much out of the Prince and Princess, so much so they couldn’t live the lives they wanted to live.

 Finally after what seemed like hours of silence, Mai let out a sharp breath, “If you’re willing to listen…I may have a solution…We can use this wedding to help us all.”

 “Eh? How your Majesty?”  

 “If we go through this wedding, no one will question if you two are together…No one will question me when I go to Yuya. We keep this separate from our official duties altogether okay?”

 “Separate?...So…the Prince and I...”  Micchy voice was hesitant, unsure if he should believe of the words of the Princess. She didn’t want him? So much so that she would turn a blind eye to his relationship with the Prince?

 “And you’ll be okay with this Mai?” Kouta asked, hope evident in his voice.  

 The girl nodded, a smile dancing on her lips. “It’s evident that you two really care for one another, and I can’t give the Prince what you can Micchy…Can we agree to keep this between us and away from the public eye?”

 “Of course!!”   The scribe felt as if all the anxiety and fear that had been building up to this moment melted away like ice.  “T-thank you Your Majesty…”

 “Now that, that, is settled, we should attend to the wedding…” Kouta ran his fingers through his dark hair with a sigh. “Shall we Princess?”

 “Yes. Of course, can’t keep the guests waiting…” Turning away, the girl flashed a sympathetic smile to the boy.  “I’m sorry this is how it has to be…but at least we can be with our loved ones…” Opening the door, Mai disappeared once again, heading back to the ceremony to continue on with the ruse.  

 Kouta turned back to the boy, his small hand slipping through the bars to stroke Micchy’s cheek.  “I’m sorry Micchy…but I can’t let you out at this moment…I have look like I’m punishing you…Please forgive me…”

 Biting his lower lip, the scribe to be nodded, closing his eyes against the touch. “…I’ll be fine…as long as you come back to me…”

 Chuckling the Prince replied lovingly, “I’ll always come back for you.”

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