Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ This I Promise You ❯ Stalking His Prey ( Chapter 4 )

This I Promise You

Prequel to: Because of You

Written by: Chocho

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation

Story summary: Everybody assured him Rinjin Yasashii was just another obsessed fan with a crush and that there was nothing to worry about. Little did they know how wrong they all were.

Chapter summary: One step closer. I am one step closer to making him mine.

Songs: “Send Me an Angel”, Scorpions

“Anti-Nostalgic”, Bad Luck

“No Style”, Bad Luck

Warnings: M-preg, explicit sex, language, violence, angst

Key: [Blah] or Blah blah blah: flashback/dream

BLAH or Blah: stressed words

*: change in POV or time

 

***

 

Chapter 4: Stalking His Prey

 

 

The sun had not even been up for an hour yet when the twenty-five year old manager and music arranger found himself walking confidently down the empty hallway of NG towards the studio Bad Luck was scheduled to use that day.

 

Shuffling his briefcase under his arm, he covered a yawn that seized him.

 

Fujisaki Suguru was used to waking at or before dawn. He had ever since his cousin offered him a job as the keyboardist for Bad Luck. He always arrived at the studio before anyone else and he was always the last one to leave. So over the years, he came to like and appreciate the peace and solitude the silence of the building gave him. It was in stark contrast to when the others showed up, especially Shuichi.

 

The bands lead singer was a character in of himself. He still looked the same as he did ten years ago when Suguru first joined the band. It was sickening! Like the slightly older man had somehow found the mythical fountain of youth or had been able to somehow stop time. The only thing that had changed was the man's hair. Shuichi had changed his hair more times than Jennifer Lopez had boyfriends. Cruel but true. It had gotten to the point where everybody placed bets on what Shuichi's hair would look like that day. When Shu found out what they were up to, he at first had been angry, but then he started playing along. Now he came in with the most outrageous hair colors and styles imaginable. Hiro, knowing Shuichi the best, usually won the bets, except for this last time. Nobody had predicted Shuichi would go back to his original hair color. He had been all shades of blond, including white blond and strawberry blond, several shades of purple, aqua-blue, sea green and everything in-between. One time, he went as far as to stripe his hair like the back of a skunk. Suguru had to admit Shuichi was just as creative and imaginative with his hair as he was with his music.

 

Adjusting his briefcase, Suguru reached out for the doorknob of the studio door when the handle turned out of his hands. The young manager swallowed a squeak and jumped, his heart leapt in his throat. Sighing, he saw one of NG's janitors standing on the other side of the door.

 

“Oh! Gomen nasai, Fujisaki-san,” the man cried out, bowing apologetically. “I'm terribly sorry!”

 

Suguru waved the man's stuttering apology aside. “Don't worry about it…Niwa-san, isn't it?”

 

The man's eyes widened. “Hai! Yes, Sir,” he nodded, surprised and a little pleased someone of his repertoire new his name.

 

The younger man smiled and stepped aside so Niwa-san could exit the studio. “Arigato, Niwa-san and good day,” he bowed as the man dragged a bulky vacuum behind him down the hall. Suguru shut the studio door behind him as he entered. Setting his briefcase on the couch, he removed his lightweight jacket and draped it on a hook on the back wall, thinking about Niwa-san.

 

He knew nothing about the man. Nobody did. The guy was a complete mystery. He was a hard and diligent worker. He never complained and could put up with all the lunacy that happened on a daily basis at NG. That was a very definite plus for any worker that was hired at the record company, but still…Suguru could not place a finger on what it was, but the guy gave him the creeps. Like that meeting just now. What had the man been doing in the studio, with the door closed? If he had been cleaning it, like the vacuum suggested, where had his cleaning cart been? Suguru had not spotted it as he made his way from the elevator to the studio and he definitely had not heard the loud, obnoxious thing.

 

Suguru snorted and mentally slapped himself. “Definitely spending too much time with Shuichi,” he muttered with a disgusted shake of his head.

 

For the past month, Shuichi had been in one of his paranoid, schizophrenic moods and when both Hiro and Yuki-san stopped listening, the singer turned towards the rest of them. Stupid he had actually listened to his rants! Suguru hit himself for that now. Because of that idiot, he was now thinking everyone was out to get them.

 

“Stupid Shuichi,” he cried as he took out the CD-ROM that he had copied yesterday's recording session on from his briefcase. He had taken it home to work on it instead of staying at the studio like he usually did. By the end of the day, he had had the most painful headache. It felt as if his head was going to explode. He had felt so nauseous and queasy. He wondered what- or should he say who- the cause of migraine had been? The label on the front of the case read, “Send Me An Angel”. It was another cover song they were doing for their album. He booted up the computer and slipped the CD into the drive and pressed play. The sounds of an acoustic guitar accompanied by a light synthesizer in the background filled the large studio.

 

The wise man said just walk this way

To the dawn of the light

The wind will blow into your face

As the years pass you by

Hear this voice from deep inside

It's the call of your heart

Close your eyes and your will find

The passage out of the dark

 

*

 

Niwa-san heard the strains of the music blaring through the studio door as he walked down the hall with the damned vacuum.

 

Here I am (Here I am)

Will you send me an angel

Here I am (Here I am)

In the land of the morning star

 

That had been a close one! He had always known that Fujisaki Suguru came into the studio before anyone else but it was not even six-thirty in the morning! What in the world was the man doing here so damned early? It was a good thing he had had enough sense to bring along the vacuum; otherwise, he would have been in deep shit.

 

Sweating bullets, Niwa-san dragged the bulky contraption that was supposed to be a vacuum cleaner into the maintenance closet. With a last look into the hall to make sure nobody had sneaked into the building without him knowing and would surely overhear him, he shut the door and pulled out his phone. Flipping it open, he dialed a phone number he knew from heart and waited for the owner to answer.

 

*

 

Rinjin Yasashii was tucking his Bad Luck vintage t-shirt into a pair of old, worn out blue jeans when he thought he heard something over the strains of “Anti-Nostalgic”, an older Bad Luck song.

 

Buttoning his pants, the man grabbed the remote from the top of the dresser and turned off the radio, the room falling into sudden silence. He cocked his head and listened. The peace was shattered by a lone voice singing a cappella. “Furidashita totsuzen no ame ni sekasareru [akuseru]/omae no inai [baiku] no se ni shigamitsuiteru kodoku.”

 

His head shot towards the sound. The light on his cellphone blinked green as Shuichi's voice repeatedly sang the opening verse of “No Style”. He walked across the room and grabbed the phone off the nightstand, recognizing the phone number. He flipped it open, the singing stopping in mid-sentence. “Kakei,” he greeted. “How'd it go?”

 

“I almost got caught by Fujisaki Suguru.”

 

Yasashii blinked, taken back. “How?” He sighed, shaking his head. That was stupid question. “Never mind. So, what was the problem?”

 

“Batteries.”

 

“Are you serious?” Yasashii laughed.

 

“Yep.”

 

“That's good. Thanks. Same spot, same time, same amount.”

 

“Nuh uh! No way! If it had been something other than a worn out battery…I want two thousand more.”

 

Yasashii sighed, racking his fingers through his hair. “Fine, but only this one time. Next time, you're on your own and shit out of luck. Hear me?”

 

Yasashii sighed irately. “Fine.”

 

“Good. Let me know what you find out.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

The man flipped his phone closed and set it back down on the nightstand. Standing up, he crossed to his closet and grabbed a belt. Stringing it through the belt loops, he shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed his keys and cellphone before heading out.

 

*

 

Shuichi was not sure how long he sat there, his head between his knees, waiting for the nausea and lightheadedness to pass, but by the time he finally managed to lift his head and stand up without feeling as if he was going to pass out, the water had turned ice cold. Knowing Eiri was going to be pissed at him for one, taking so long and two, using up all the hot water, he quickly washed and towel dried, wrapping his long hair turban style in a smaller hand towel. He did this all in record time. Five minutes from start to finish. He made a mental note never to mention how fast he had been to his blond lover. The older man would expect Shuichi in and out just as fast from now on, which was never going to happen again. Today had been a fluke. Who would want to stay under the spray of ice-cold water?

 

Shivering from the lack of warmth, Shuichi slipped quietly into the bedroom and threw on the clothes he had picked out the night before as quietly as he could, trying to give Eiri as much rest as possible. Because as tense and tired as he was after last night, the singer knew his boyfriend would be even more so. What was it he always said? The pitcher got tired during a game.

 

Shuichi chuckled as he slid into a black pair of tight jeans and a red silk button down shirt over a tight white half-shirt. Without bothering with socks, Shuichi yanked the towel off his head and let his long black hair spill around his face. Running a comb through the tresses, he glanced at his reflection. Maybe it was time to cut his hair. What should he do to it this time? He would have to ask his hairstylist to surprise him. As he slipped on his watch, he wondered if he would have time before Suguru expected him at the studio to get it done. Even if he did not, he could always make time. They had plenty to do at the studio without him. He clasped a gold chain around his neck and a matching bracelet around his wrist. He slipped two tiny gold hoops into his ears and clasped his hair with a hair tie at the nap of his neck. As he was about to put on his black choker, he noticed something on the side of his neck.

 

Leaning towards the mirror, he tilted his head to the side and glanced out of the corner of his eye at the huge bruise. “What in the world?” He ran his fingertips lightly over it. A red-hot blush warmed his face as he realized what the mark was. Eiri had given him a hicky and not an ordinary one at that. He was used to having those all over his body and showing them off like badges of honor, but this time Eiri had done nothing less than mark him, like a cat does to mark its territory. The hicky was the equivalent to having no trespassing signs posted all over your property with the warning that all intruders would be shot. Shuichi blushed deeply at the thought. Knowing his blond writer lover, Eiri would do just that.

 

Shuichi caught the huddled form of his lover in the middle of the bed behind him. His smile softened and a dreamy look settled over his face. Sighing, he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on the lump, shaking it lightly.

 

“Hmmm. Do you have a death wish,” Eiri muttered softly through the heavy layers of blankets.

 

Shuichi laughed. “Eiri, I'm heading out.”

 

“Hmmm,” came the mumbled reply. “What do I care?”

 

Shuichi chuckled with an amused shake of his head. “At least, give me a kiss goodbye!” When the covers were thrown back, Shu gasped. He jumped to his feet. “Eiri! Oh my god! What's wrong?” His lover was as pale as the white sheets he was lying on. His eyes were red and glassy and his nose was running like the Niagara Falls.

 

“What the hell do you think,” snapped the hoarse reply. Eiri shut his eyes, a headache threatening to split his head wide open.

 

Shuichi crawled across the bed on his knees. He placed a hand on his lover's forehead and cursed. “Shit, Eiri! You're burning up!”

 

Eiri flopped onto his back and with a dramatic moan. He flung the covers back over his head. “That's what happens when you get sick.”

 

The singer stared open mouthed in shock at his lover. Eiri had never been sick a day in his life! The guy had an immune system to rival that of the continuing popularity of Bad Luck! Shuichi had no idea what to do. Should he call in sick and stay home to take care of his bedridden lover? Should he take Eiri to the hospital? Maybe he should call up Tatsuha. The younger monk-

 

“Don't even think about it,” came the muffled retort.

 

Shuichi blinked. “What? I didn't-”

 

The covers were thrown back. Eiri pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard with a groan. “You didn't have to say anything. We've been together for so long; I've developed the ability to read your mind. Not that there's much to read in there,” he added with a smirk.

 

Shuichi's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Part of him was squealing like a schoolgirl to know that the love of his life knew him that well, but the other half wanted to slam the man into the coffee table just in spite of that insult. “Bastard,” he cried out with a chuckle, lightly punching his blond lover's shoulder.

 

Eiri rubbed his shoulder. “You call that a punch?” He snorted with a shake of his head. “Pathetic! I've known girls that could hit harder than you!”

 

Shuichi fumed. Than he got a sly idea. An evil smile lit his face and his eyes gleamed in mischievousness. “Hard, huh?”

 

With a raised eyebrow, the romance writer watched in amusement as his small lover crawled over him, straddling him. Eiri placed his hands on Shuichi's narrow hips. “May I help you,” he asked with a sniffle.

 

Shuichi's smile grew. He shook his head. “Nope, but I can help you.”

 

“Oh? How?”

 

“You said you wanted it…hard, right?”

 

Eiri drew his brows down, a mixture of confusion and anticipation battling under his blank face. “You think you can give it to me…hard?” He shook his head. “I don't know about that.”

 

Shuichi shook his head, that evil expression still on his face. He stood up on his knees and shucked the blankets to the end of the bed. Settling on his hands and knees, he placed his face a hair's breathe away from his lover's cock. He glanced through a shield of bangs that had gotten loose and peered at the older man slyly, a knowing glint on his face. “I never said I would give it to you. I said I can help you get it hard.”

 

Eiri gulped, already getting hard at the images his little lover was sending into his head. “You're going to be late,” he squeaked.

 

Shuichi licked his lover's already hard manhood. He chuckled deeply when he heard his sharp indrawn breath.

 

“You're going to catch my cold,” Eiri tried again.

 

Shuichi nuzzled his lover with his nose. “What's your point? If I get sick, we can spend all day in bed together.”

 

Liking the sound of that, Eiri reached out and yanked the band out of Shu's hair, letting the long locks fall free. He liked to feel the man's hair over his naked body. “Deal,” he said hoarsely. He grabbed a fistful of his young lover's hair as Shuichi licked his stiff cock.

 

Shuichi leaned back a little and licked his lips. He stared into his lover's golden hazel eyes. God, how he loved this man!

 

***