Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Agony ❯ Chapter 1

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Title: Beautiful Agony

Series: Fruits Basket

Pairing: Akito x Shigure, Shigure x Ren

Theme: Song

 

AN: Written for the MakinLemonade weekly challenge, thus theme info. This story kind of walked up and bit me on the ass. Spoilers for non-English release chapters of Fruits Basket. If you're not sure who “Ren” is then you will be spoiled. Just to let you know. Oh, and this fic was also partially inspired by an icon I've seen on LiveJournal. It's a picture of Shigure, and on it is the phrase, “Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, hate me because I fucked your mom.” It cracks me up every time I run across it!

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket or the song quoted below. I do own a copy of the CD and volumes of the manga, but that doesn't really count for anything, now does it?

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*****

“but now I've got to worry

cause boy you still look pretty

when you're putting the damage on”

 

--From “Putting the Damage On” by Tori Amos, Boys for Pele

*****

 

Of course he was an attractive man. It was a Sohma family trait, after all, that almost unnatural beauty. It was even more pronounced in her Juunishi, most of them unearthly in their loveliness.

Even him, with his black hair and dark eyes, as much as it galled Akito to admit it. Ordinary on anyone else, but on him somehow unusual, unique. The clean lines of his features and sleekly muscled body only added to his appeal. Even in disarray, with his hair rumpled and his face sheened with sweat, he was still absolutely gorgeous.

 

Her faithless dog, Shigure.

 

After all, she should know. She'd seen him disheveled like that many times as he thrust inside her. His skin slick with the sweat of exertion, hair mussed by her fingers as she clutched his head to hers, engaging in an almost violent duel of tongues and bodies.

 

She refused to let him be gentle with her. Gentleness was for delicate, ladylike females. Gentleness indicated caring, affection. As far as Akito was concerned, she wanted nothing to do with any of those things. Femininity and delicacy didn't suit her, and what use did she have for affection in a relationship?

 

She hadn't wanted to care for him, hadn't wanted him to have that kind of power over her. She just wanted him to fuck her, to feel him pounding into her, one with her for at least a short while. She wanted him to come inside her, to know she had brought him to that point, to know she had the power to cause him to lose control over self. Only then could she give in to her own orgasm—albeit unwillingly, despairing over her own loss of control. Despising how the softening of his dark eyes and the tender brush of his fingers across her face afterwards caused a soft, warm feeling in the depths of her soul.

 

She wondered if he'd looked like that with her. With Ren.

 

The bitch.

 

Her mother.

 

Akito had known the minute she saw him leaving that woman's rooms. Known what he had done, known before he ever told her. Not that he'd hesitated to tell her, with that almost permanent smirk plastered across his face. Of course she'd ordered him from the house. Banished. Exiled. Removed from temptation. She suspected it had been what he wanted in the first place. She didn't want to consider any other motives for his actions. Her Juunishi should be loyal to her. Only her.

 

But still....

 

Had he really thought she preferred Kureno's touches to his? The gentle hesitancy that Kureno always brought to her bed reflected his innate kindness that never left him, no matter the circumstances. Sometimes Akito hated him for that. She wanted kindness, but not as a sop, an effort to placate the demands of `God.'

 

Yet, she needed Kureno to stay close to her, needed to bind him to her in whatever way possible now that the Juunishi bond was gone. So she put up with his insipid “lovemaking,” his oh-so-tender touches that always left her craving more. Left her craving him.

 

Akito wondered what her beautiful, treacherous dog had looked like when he fucked Ren and hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop wondering.

 

His hands, with those long, agile writer's fingers. Clever hands for a clever man. Did he wrap those fingers of his in her horrible, slithery black hair? Had he left reddened fingerprints on her hips as he pulled her closer, trying to thrust even deeper inside her? Had he stroked those fingers down her back afterwards, reassuring her of his continued presence through slow caresses?

 

That lying mouth he was so talented at using. Always shaping the truth to suit himself. Did he trail nibbling bites down her neck, leaving evidence to later be hidden by turtlenecks or collars pulled closely around her throat? Did he use that mouth on her, tongue playing against her sensitive clit until she crested over and over, screaming? Did his panting breath brush against her ear as he shuddered in climax, face buried against hers?

 

That lean body, muscles so well hidden in his customary yukata. Did he draw her face to his shoulder, laughing when she bit hard enough to leave a clear imprint of her teeth? Did he tease her with shallow thrusts, barely entering her until she bucked beneath him, a surrender that was no surrender at all? Did she leave nailmarks down the planes of his back, long red stripes of ownership?

 

The questions were endless, unanswerable. They painted a portrait of the two together, burned it into her mind as clearly as if it had once been burned into her retinas.

 

A portrait of dark beauty, of tangled limbs and colliding bodies. Of impassioned moans and glistening flesh. True erotic art sure to impress the most discerning aesthete.

 

Blind hatred enveloped her at the pictures playing so vividly in her mind. Beautiful, both of them, beautiful and treacherous. Akito wanted to tear them to pieces, destroy them both in any way possible, eradicate even the smallest hint of their presence inside her home and inside herself.

 

Except she couldn't bring herself to do it, not with him anyway. Her lovely, despicable Shigure.

 

How was it that she still cared for him, still wanted him to love her?

 

Why did she still think he was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen, even as he ripped her apart inside?