Oneshot: My Favourite Things

[andrew_in_drag]

Title: My Favourite Things
Author: andrew_in_drag
Pairing: Die/Kyo
Rating: R
Warnings: slash
Synopsis: These are a few of my favourite things. 
Note: You know how, when you have serious work to do, suddenly you are so inspired to do literally anything else? My second (and rather cuter) oneshot today comes to you courtesy of my midterms.

My Favourite Things

What's your favourite colour?

Red for you; black or white for me. Red is the colour of passion and energy, fire and violence and love; for me, red is the colour of delight and pure, real completedness, the feeling of being one half of a whole: red is the colour of an adolescent desire that grew more pressing over the years, pressing, pressing, pressing, until the glorious day you ended it all by pressing up against me.

Black: an empty colour. White: the colour of everything. Black like darkness and white like the moonlight on your skin, the perfect complements to each other, different and inseparable because one cannot exist where the other does not.

What's your favourite book?

I like A Clockwork Orange. You don't really read. On the tour bus I like to stare into the back of the seat in front or get myself worked into the threads of a book; I shut the curtains against the view out of the window, views of America and Europe and places that were in my dreams for months until I got too much of them, and found that they were too different from the spaces where I felt safe.

Touring, actually, is hard. There's a lot of irony in my choice of profession. To be a rockstar you have to be surrounded by people, and I always preferred to be by myself. To be a rockstar you have to stand under bright lights and be on display like a bug behind glass, and I always preferred to be in darkness. To be a rockstar you have to turn yourself inside out and live with your raw sides to the world, and I always wanted to be very, very protected, shut up like by bars. When I was a young man and falling in love with you I used to dream I was in some kind of otherworldly prison: I wanted only to see those four concrete walls, six by six enclosed, barred up, safe.

That snakeskin tattoo on your hand. You wriggled through my bars like your whole body was like that, coiled up like a cobra and biting me kindly.

What's your favourite movie?

Mine is Star Wars. I know there's a whole series but I like The Return of the Jedi and The Empire Strikes Back best: none of this please, Anakin, you're breaking my heart, but a lot more of Leia in the gold bikini, that first little fantasy and the way it made you feel like you were unravelling, when you were a kid and too young to know
what that feeling was, and the thing you said; that beautiful time when I told you, I love you; and you smiled, cocky/sweet, and replied, I know.

One day I got home and you were grinning and secretive, rushing me to take off my coat and shoes and dragging me into our dark, dark bedroom. You undressed me, your hands quick and light and cherishing, making my breath come fast. You stumbled away and cursed and fumbled. After a few seconds of me squirming, hard and needy, you knelt between my legs and put the neon green condom on me, beaming in its phosphorescent glow.

“Do you get it?” you said excitedly. One thing I will say: sex with you is always interesting. From my seat on the edge of the bed I looked down at you with a frustrated mixture of horniness and confusion, and you grabbed the base of my dick and made a sound that was so familiar to me. You looked up expectantly, and when I faltered, you started to hum that old theme tune.

In our dark bedroom you hummed as you sucked me off, pretended my dick was a light saber whilst you took it as deep into your throat as you could go, and you know it: how I laughed and gasped and loved you.

You slid your long, sweet fingers inside me and thrust them in and out, and I was in heaven.

“Die I'm – fuck, I'm gonna – I'm going to cum–”

At the crucial moment you pulled the condom off and let me come with a groan into your hand and onto your skin, and with deadly serious eyes you drew a line of cum over my forehead and whispered, “Simba.”

Your favourite movie: The Lion King.

Do you have a favourite, out of our songs? That's a hard one, for me. There are songs from every point on my emotional spectrum: times when I was scared, and scary; laughing, sobbing, screaming; I felt them all. Like a hundred broken mirrors, I can glance over our songs and find, in every one, just a fragment of you reflected.

And then they don't feel so desperate.

I like Amber. I like that driving bass that matches the lyrics, that wind pulsing and sweeping and purging the old things away, and that feeling like living in a dream: a feeling I've had ever since...

You whispering I love you, I don't want anybody else: words that I'd tuck tight in the centre of my memories and wrap in amber, never to be changed, preserved endlessly.

You said Egnirys Cimredopyh, hearing you sing so dirty and so unashamed, it turns me on, and a smile pulled at your lips and you kissed me until my breath was gone.

You changed your mind and said Mr Newsman, because I wrote that one alone and I'm proud of it.

Your final choice, your best of three: Wake, because I wrote it; because you're beautiful when you sing it; because it has that part of you.

What part? I pressed, my hands on your knees and my eyes following the sweep of red hair that hid your face from my jealous view.

Unhalting, you said, tenderness.

Fucking you and hearing the noises you make; striking you at your core and making you pant and moan and beg, raking at the bed sheets helplessly.

Being fucked by you and feeling the two of us connect in a way I never thought possible. Having you inside me and thinking that this is it; that I've opened up all my most vulnerable places to you and I have nothing left to hide.

And what a relief it is, to know that and feel that.

These are a few of my favourite things.

So when I'm an old man, remind me of this: your name spilling from my lips, your hands holding me up, holding me steady: the first night we kissed, and I really meant it.

Of all the things you've ever said, a thousand and one quotes that are goofy and stupid and loving and just transcendental, here is my favourite:

When I was wound into a state in my darkest years, angrily clawing at myself and muttering bitterly about how I was doomed to be this torn-up neurotic creature forever, flashing quicksilver between all the things I couldn't decide on, scared because I didn't know what I wanted.

Said savagely: “I want you and I don't want you. One minute I can hardly touch you and the next second I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me. For fuck's sake Die, why are you trying? Don't you get that I'm going to be like this all my life; that I'm always going to be changing my mind and flying back and forward?”

But I was ever so much younger then, and I didn't know myself so well, and I didn't know you so well either. I didn't know that you would calm that frenetic side of me; I didn't know that with you I could do the one thing that I had never before figured out: how to settle down, how to be happy.

But still, that thing you said; like even if I hadn't found my way out of the fog to reach out to you, it would have been okay.

And you would have stayed anyway.

My favourite thing: you putting your hand on my hand, linking our fingers, looking into my eyes seriously and saying: let me fly with you.

Comments

[tcharlatan.livejournal.com]

~<3 /memadd

[kaiser1103.livejournal.com]

I like the movie part~ It's cute ^^

[doraemi-san.livejournal.com]

The image of Die's smile got stuck in my head when I read this story and it was so brilliant, so heavenly T_T

[lemongrassmango.livejournal.com]

why is everything you write so devastating?
this part : Your final choice, your best of three: Wake, because I wrote it; because you're beautiful when you sing it; because it has that part of you. is my absolute favorite <3

[andrew-in-drag.livejournal.com]

Aw, thank you so much :)

I love your icon; that's such a great picture of him. He looks so tough and all raw, I find it so inspirational! Frantic typing, frantic typing.