[FIC] The Heat of Borginian Summer
Rating: NC-17 - EXPLICIT
Pairing: Daryan Crescend / Machi Tobaye
Summary: A twisted summer romance. What exactly inspired Daryan and Machi's partnership in crime? Written for a kink meme request for consensual smut of these two.
For the record, Daryan isn’t even gay.
Sure, people joke about how he and Klavier are married and that’s all well and good, but Daryan’s down with the pussy. Klavier became a rock star to get women. When they’re piss drunk, they like to read slash porn about them and laugh until their sides hurt. Women, with their heads full of expectations and romance, have such strange ideals. Women are ridiculous.
Actually, Daryan thinks Machi is a girl at first. A disappointingly flat-chested girl. He just has a delicate way about him, a slender, beautiful little pixie with a very private laugh. Daryan’s just broken up with that satanic whore of a slut, the Girl That Toured With Them. She’s legend to the Gavinners, the Girl That Toured With Them. Her temper-tantrums are even scarier than Klavier’s. She’s almost as big of a bitch as him, too. Daryan’s sworn off women like he’s sworn off drugs and drinking – no seriously, guys, I mean it this time. I don’t need no women but Geeter. Then Klavier wants to go to Bumfuck Asia (oh, sorry, Europe) to hear some blind broad in a burqa sing about scenery. Daryan knows the language and needs a vacation, so he’s unanimously volunteered to represent the Gavinners along with Klavier.
Borginia’s hot in the summer. The whole damned country smells like falafel and Daryan’s hair isn’t taking well to the humidity. Then they’re ushered into a white, cool studio and there’s that girl Klavier’s got a hard on for and there’s her, a tiny delicate sylph who speaks in quiet, formal sentences. Klavier introduces them, there’s some sob story about how Machi’s an orphan and Lamiroir plays her eyes, but Daryan’s not really listening. He’s trying to see Machi’s face better, get a better look at her body. No curves, but those delicate little hands, man. Those hands could do a man in.
Daryan has no idea how old Machi is; just that he can’t stop looking at her. And someone so young can’t possibly be a world-weary whore ready to stomp on hearts with pointy heels. He thinks maybe he’s falling for her a bit. Feels like he’s back in middle school, tripping on his own feet just to try and find the words to talk to a girl. But Machi’s always stuck to Lamiroir’s arm and when they pass in the hall it’s too weird. Lamiroir and Daryan exchange words but Machi never says a damned thing.
When they have a moment alone, Daryan asks Klavier a question that’s been bugging him. “So are you banging Lamiroir or what? Does that Machi girl ever leave her alone?”
“Nein,” says Klavier. Even as they fuss over the soundboard he’s checking his own appearance, patting his hair as if standing in front of an imaginary mirror. “And Machi is a boy, ja?”
“A boy? No way.” Daryan groans. “But she’s so pretty.”
“Daryan? You do realize Machi is only fourteen.”
“Fourteen’s legal here. Besides, I thought you took me to this boring-ass country to find me a new girl.”
“A new girl is not the same as our fourteen-year-old pianist. I don’t really care if you feel you’re so inadequate you need to go after a school boy, but don’t do anything that messes with the band.” Oh shit, now he’s gone all serious-business. Daryan’s really annoyed when Klavier wears that face. “I already let you bring that girl on tour. Don’t let your lapses in judgment cause stress for us again.”
“Okay, I get it, geeze. It’s not like I already boned her.”
Actually the fact that Machi is a guy should turn him off the subject completely, but it doesn’t. Especially when he catches Machi at a rare moment alone. One night Klavier and Lamiroir are off in the studio. Klavier is adamant both that they are not to be disturbed and they are not fucking.
Machi’s on the back porch, swinging bare legs over the side, wiggling toes in long, cool grass. He startles when Daryan walks up behind him but doesn’t turn to look. Oh, right. Blind.
Daryan sits next to him. “Hey,” he says, and Machi stares out at the dark sea of grass without seeing anything. Saying nothing. Daryan can’t stand silence so he speaks suddenly in his halting Borginian.
“I’m Daryan, remember me?”
A nod. No words.
“Well uh, we didn’t really get introduced in much detail. I was thinking. You’re blind, right? Do you want to touch my face? I hear that’s what blind folks do to see.”
Machi turns. Hands held out expectantly. With a strange tremble, Daryan takes his hands by his wrists and guides them to his face. Machi lightly strokes his features, drawing delicate invisible lines over lips, eyelids, shape of jaw. Those fingers don’t slow when they’ve memorized his face, though. Machi continues to observe Daryan. His fingertips dance down corded neck and across muscled chest.
In the moonlight Machi’s hands are milky. His touch is soft and knowing. Daryan’s as hard as steel and he’s swallowing a lot, wondering if somehow Machi could notice. There’s this little smile lurking on Machi’s face.
Machi doesn’t stop touching. And Daryan knows it’s not intentional when those fingers brush over his erection but he wants it so bad to be.
And Machi keeps going. Stroking and stroking, seems pleased at the heat that grows and twitches. Daryan’s panting. The heat of Borginian summer means sweat’s already collecting on his forehead.
“Say, Machi. Want to see that even better?” The words are husky.
Machi only nods.
Daryan unzips himself, guiding Machi’s hand over his rigid cock. Machi plays and squeezes, all while his gaze remains eerily unfocused, as if his mind is elsewhere. Daryan wishes he weren’t so detached, but the sight of those perfect fingers is too distracting to worry much about it.
Daryan’s just sitting back and enjoying it – Machi’s not the best hand job he’s received, but he’s in the top ten – when he thinks of something better. “Y’know, I hear your mouth’s even more sensitive to feelings. And tasting it, that’d be a way to experience it too.” Machi pauses, confused, and Daryan cups his cheek. Thumb over lips. Machi’s lips yield; thumb pushes past, little licks, gentle suck.
“That’s good,” he breathes. Then pulls him down.
Machi flickers tongue over cock head, pressing to salty slit. That shy reluctance makes Daryan groan. Then, much to his surprise, Machi helps himself to his cock. He’s sucking it fiercely, sprawled over Daryan’s lap, jerking him with one hand. Machi’s other hand is nowhere to be found. Then Daryan realizes Machi’s touching himself, cradling his own painful arousal. Daryan grabs Machi’s perfect little ass and Machi moans around him, arching and wiggling like a happy little sex kitten. It’s that vocalization that does Daryan in and he’s literally exploding. Machi doesn’t seem to know what he do, but in his surprise pulls away. When he sits up again, he’s got cum on his sunglasses. Daryan can swear Machi’s looking right at him, licking his sticky, swollen lips.
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
A mute and hesitant nod.
“Look at you. You’re full-mast and everything.” Daryan pulls Machi into his lap. Machi squeaks. Then whimpers as Daryan cups his length. “I remember what it was like at your age. Having to go through the day with one of these.” It’s out of sympathy that Daryan unzips Machi’s pants, begins to masturbate the boy. Machi squirms and the way he’s whimpering, Daryan wonders if he should be doing this at all. Then Machi throws his little arms around his neck like he’s drowning, and Daryan knows to finish what he’s started.
“Do you like it?” he whispers in the shell of Machi’s ear.
Machi nods. He’s close – of course he’s close.
“Tell me you like it.”
Sweat rolls down Machi’s temple. He’s biting his lower lip hard. He whimpers.
“Tell me or I won’t let you cum.”
“Please,” Machi whispers.
“I like it.”
“What do you like?”
“I like you touching me.”
Daryan’s going fast now. Strong hands from playing speed riffs. “And?”
“I liked… seeing you.”
“What you doing was called cock sucking. You know what that is, don’t you? Giving a blow job.” Daryan can’t help but smirk. Who knew that book of how to talk dirty in 100 languages would end up being the only useful gift Klavier ever gave him?
“I liked cock sucking. I liked giving a blow job. Ah… ah…!”
Reliving those memories sends Machi over. When he does, he cries out and holds Daryan so tight he’s practically choking him.
He doesn’t let go when he’s finished, either. The tension leaves Machi’s body and he clings like a sleepy child.
Stirring indoors alerts Daryan that Lamiroir and Klavier are finished for the night. Machi seems to snap to his senses. Dicks are put away and they stand up and brush themselves off. Daryan kisses Machi on the forehead.
“Let me put you to bed.”
Machi nods quickly, and takes his arm.
After that night, Daryan’s so sure he’s never going to do that again. Klavier would kill him, for one thing. Besides, no matter what else Machi might be (sexy, beautiful, pure), he’s still a boy, and Daryan’s not gay. It’s not wrong to experiment but this clearly can’t continue.
Those thoughts are out the window by the next day. He can’t even remember why he’s looking for Machi, though he started out with an excuse. He finds the boy in his room. He knocks but Machi’s got some Vivaldi or other snore-inducing dead composer playing on his stereo. What choice does Daryan have? He walks in.
Machi’s splayed on the bed, naked, beating off like tomorrow isn’t going to come. Immediately Daryan’s pants tighten. Machi’s cute red mouth is hanging open. He pauses when Daryan walks in the door. Daryan’s surprised Machi could hear the door open but couldn’t hear his knocking. Must be some sort of blind-person super hearing.
“Uh, sorry,” Daryan says. What do you say when you find a teenager masturbating? Hard to know. Blood’s flowing to the wrong area. Machi hasn’t let go of his cock, but he’s not continuing, either. It’s flush in his graceful white fingers.
Daryan has no idea why he’s embarrassed. Why Machi seems calmer than him about the whole thing. And he’s just about to leave when Machi lazily gives himself another stroke, making a breathy little noise Daryan’s somehow able to hear underneath the soaring harpsichord. Drawn toward the sound, Daryan is walking towards the bed instead of walking away. He’s touching Machi all over, making the boy cry out without sounds. That lovely red mouth with its kittenish tongue hangs open again, gulping for air.
Everything about Machi is perfect. Daryan realizes he doesn’t miss the things he thought he’d miss. The line of Machi’s chest doesn’t seem lacking anything when he takes those tiny nipples in his fingers and pinches him. He doesn’t look pissed off like girls do when he’s rough like that. And his ass – it’s so amazing; Daryan wants to write a song about it. Just watching it lift up from the mattress like that, he can’t help it. He wants to grab it in handfuls. Never one to resist his impulses, Daryan flips Machi over on his stomach. Squeezes those creamy cheeks and parts them. “Do you ever do stuff like this when you’re alone? Ever stick your fingers in your ass?”
Machi is silent, offering neither denial nor agreement. Daryan pushes his fingers into Machi’s mouth and he sucks obediently. Funny how Machi has the sunglasses on even then, veiling his expression. The sweat is beading on both of them, even in the air-conditioned room. The heat gets through the walls of this place.
Daryan pushes those spit-slick fingers into Machi’s tight little asshole and the kid hisses out, just once, color flooding his cheeks. Daryan figures out pretty quickly that it’s not enough, he can’t finger-fuck Machi like he’d like.
“The, the dresser,” Machi says, like he’s read Daryan’s mind. There sits the Holy Grail for every horny teenaged boy: a big pump bottle full of unscented lotion. Daryan squirts more than enough into his hand, is enjoying just playing, stretching, seeing how much he can get in when his dick is like, uh, hi, are you forgetting something over here?
Daryan wonders if it will even all fucking fit, but he can’t say no to his manhood. He’s slicking himself with the lotion. Machi’s bracing a pillow, biting his knuckle. And Daryan shoves in all at once – didn’t miss the mark the first time, thank god – and Machi must be made of heat and light, must be some kind of angel from heaven with that golden hair, because Daryan has never encountered anything that feels like that. Heaven. He’s definitely going to write a song about Machi.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Daryan growls. And he’s actually gentle with Machi. Fucks him slow, and Machi undulates. They get at it at a very gradual pace. Daryan’s admiring how big and strong his hands look on Machi’s tiny hips. They’re rough where he’s smooth. Machi moves like an animal in heat, seems desperate to get more of Daryan’s cock in him, ass in the air. He’s resumed touching himself, but this is more fun, isn’t it? Daryan bites his shoulder blade, and knocks Machi’s hand away. “No. I get to say when you cum.”
Machi gasps, his most genuine emotion yet. “Mr. Crescend,” he murmurs.
Daryan grunts at that, quickening, and if he could see Machi’s face, he’d see smirking.
“Mr. Crescend,” Machi whimpers, meeting each thrust, voice quaking a little as Daryan hits him deep inside. “Mr. Crescend, please, I want to cum. Mr. Crescend….”
“Fuck,” Daryan says, and if Machi goes on like that he won’t be able to hold on. He’s going faster, jerking Machi in time to his thrusts that are quickly losing rhythm.
“Go, baby. Go.” And when Machi does, he’s tensing and arching and Daryan follows in those trembling aftermath seconds, filling Machi so much it makes a mess on his ass pulling out. Daryan’s sort of laughing giddily. Endorphins. Machi curls to his side, trying to avoid the wet spot. Daryan grabs the tissue from the bed stand and gets to cleaning up the evidence. Machi dozes. The music’s still playing.
“Was that okay?” Daryan suddenly asks as he’s zipping up his jeans.
Machi shrugs. “Sure, Mr. Crescend.”
“You can call me Daryan if you want.”
Machi shrugs again, turning onto his back to gaze sightlessly at the ceiling. “That’s not professional,” he says after a moment. Then yawns. Tiny, flawless hand to those exquisite lips.
The CD Machi’s listening to ends. Silence is blooming between them like ugly flowers. Daryan wants to say more, or maybe apologize (and he never does that!), but no words come out when he opens his mouth. Machi’s closing his eyes. Daryan stares at him for a long moment, then tousles his hair before standing and leaving the room.
They’re at the bookstore when Klavier once again sets Daryan to rights about Machi. Klavier’s trying to attract Daryan’s attention to the clerk with the low-cut shirt who’s like, totally hitting on them, but instead of trying to get to know more about the girl, Daryan asks her if they have any books in Braille. She shows them where, and he’s glancing around, instead of at her short skirt.
“I was thinking I should get a book for that Machi kid. He seems bored. He’s kinda brainy, always listening to classical music, so I thought he might like… what?”
Klavier’s laughing at him. He won’t explain why until the clerk’s out of hearing range. “You don’t know? Machi’s not blind, Lamiroir is. It’s all an act for the record company.”
“He’s a good actor, ja? Even I forget sometimes.”
Daryan shuts up, which means he’s pissed beyond words. Luckily, Klavier’s too busy being amused and flirting with the clerk to really notice he’s steamed. After a little browsing, he slams a hardback book on the counter.
“You know,” says the clerk, “We have this in Braille.”
Klavier can’t contain his snort. In fact he’s on the verge of just collapsing into giggles.
Daryan pays for the book in utter silence, then leans over to whisper something private in the pretty clerk’s ear. “Don’t sleep with that fucker,” Daryan sneers, jerking his thumb towards Klavier. “He got herpes from a ladyboy in Thailand.”
Klavier is left wondering why the girl that was so totally into him a few minutes ago now looks like she doesn’t want to touch him with rubber gloves on.
Daryan finds Machi playing piano in one of the practice rooms. It’s barely bigger than a storage closet and the piano takes up most of the space. Daryan grabs Machi by the shoulders, spinning him around on the piano stool. “Mr. Crescend? What do you want?”
“Look at me,” Daryan demands. When Machi doesn’t reply, he rips off those sunglasses. “I know you can see me, Machi. So look at me.”
He’s not prepared for the depth of those blue eyes, or how utterly calm they are. He finds himself cupping Machi’s chin, stroking thumb over cheek.
“Why did you lie to me?”
Machi doesn’t reply.
He doesn’t. He wets his lips. His expression is completely passive, yet Daryan senses his defiance.
“You made me look like a fool. I hate that!”
“I didn’t do it to make you look like a fool,” Machi says after a moment. He always considers his words to Daryan carefully.
“Don’t lie to me. Put your mouth to better use if you’re just going to tell me lies.”
Daryan unzips his pants and presents Machi his cock, pushing Machi to kneel in the narrow square of floor. Just being this close to Machi has him half-hard. Machi looks at his cock, then looks up at Daryan. The weight of his eyes is almost more effective than Machi’s fingers. “Don’t look away from me.”
Machi doesn’t. He licks and watches, and Daryan’s hard but still kind of pissed off so he shoves his length past Machi’s lips, gripping his hair. Machi glares up at him, eyes narrowed, but sucks even better than the first time. Doesn’t let up when Daryan realizes he’s got his hair in a death grip and lets go. Bobs his head and that resentment is giving way to a drugged-looking sort of pleasure as he sucks. He’s shifting uncomfortably, there’s no real space to move. “Get up,” Daryan commands him. Machi can’t do it without bumping against him, and Daryan knows he’s right: Machi’s hard.
“You’re going to look at me while I fuck you,” says Daryan. He’s proud of himself for his foresight: he brought Astroglide. Somehow, he manages to prep Machi like that, though there’s lots of fumbling. Machi’s small, flexible and clever. While Daryan’s got fingers in his ass he reaches over and locks the door.
Daryan drapes Machi over the piano stool. Scrabbling for a grip, Machi’s slamming hands on random keys, bracing the piano. He’s quite a sight, rosy and flushed, lacy trousers and undergarments still hanging precariously off one foot. “Mr. Crescend,” he says, and that’s all the permission Daryan needs, throwing Machi’s knees over his shoulders and hammering into him.
Machi looks at him. He vacillates from biting his lip to letting his mouth hang open, gasping, occasionally whimpering. He never makes much noise. Those eyes bore into him, as if trying to find some answer to a question that is made up of Daryan’s features.
“Louder,” Daryan growls. This is fucking amazing, and he can see that Machi’s holding back. He wants that quiet little boy to scream. “It’s sound proofed, go ahead.”
Machi bites down hard on his lip as if to spite him. Rising to the challenge, Daryan fucks him harder. They’re composing one lousy, tuneless symphony while Daryan reams him into the keyboard. Daryan’s thinking of those gaps in their conversations, all the times when lovers should be talking that Machi just goes quiet. How frustrating Machi is, locked away in his quiet little world. That angel needs to come down from heaven. “I’m going to fuck the silence out of you!” Daryan decides.
Machi looks right through him, and even as they’re still moving it’s stillness, it’s silence. “You can’t,” he says simply.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Yes?” Machi calls out.
“Machi? You don’t usually lock the door…” It’s Lamiroir.
“I’m composing.” There’s a hitch in his voice. Daryan hasn’t pulled out. In fact he’s resumed fucking him again. They’re moving in almost utter silence. Daryan likes the fact that Machi’s distressed, starting to sweat, but bringing himself down on Daryan’s cock harder than ever. He’s stroking himself, too, desperately.
“Will you be done soon? I need you to be my eyes for a bit.”
“Very soon,” Machi assures her. He’s quaking.
“Are you okay in there? You sound a bit odd.”
“I’m fine, Lamiroir. I’ll be out in – just a second.”
Daryan slams into Machi so hard he’s worried he might’ve broken the boy, but he just takes and takes it, looking up at Daryan’s face desperately, half-speaking. And he just knows Machi’s going to cry out so Daryan shoves his fingers in Machi’s mouth. Machi bites down on them in lieu of screaming. His entire body’s shaking. Daryan bites his tongue hard enough to bleed to keep from groaning as he lets go inside him.
Machi squirms free, gets his pants back on, and unlocks the door. He puts his arm around Lamiroir as he always does. Of course, he’s far more rumpled and flushed than usual. Daryan hopes Klavier doesn’t see them like this, even if Lamiroir seems none the wiser.
He waits until they’re both out of sight to leave the practice room. Wouldn’t want to risk the blind lady catching on.
Daryan honestly doesn’t expect Klavier to sock him in the stomach when they see each other next. Which is why the punch comes as such a surprise.
“What the fuck, Klav? That thing I said to the book wench was just a joke, I know you don’t have her—”
“You’ve been messing with Machi! You idiot! What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s a kid!”
“He’s a teenager. Don’t you remember what it was like when we were his age?”
The rage on Klavier’s face is beyond his typical bitch fit. Frankly, it scares Daryan a bit. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You’re a creep sometimes, Daryan, and you have awful taste, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid. What makes you think it’s okay to do that to him?”
“The fact that he likes it? The fact that—”
Klavier raises a hand, cutting him off. “You know what, no. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re exploiting him. Lamiroir took him in to get him away from people who would take advantage of him like that.”
“I’m not taking advantage of him! It’s mutual, I promise. I’m not that big of a creep!”
He’s not, is he? Can’t Klavier see how beautiful Machi is? How impossible it is for Daryan to resist him?
“Then tell me, Daryan, what is Machi getting out of your relations? Do you think you’re such hot stuff that it’s not going to mess with him, the fact you’re someone he’s supposed to work with and trust? Or do you think maybe he’s young and confused and you’re abusing him?” Klavier always has such an issue with that word, abuse. He spits it out so knowingly.
“I – but he… he’s fine.”
“I warned you not to do anything that would mess with the band. I’m going to trust you not to embarrass me for that, and ask you to end things with Machi. I know you’re not trying to hurt him, but with someone that young it’s just too ambiguous for everyone involved. Lamiroir’s pretty upset as it is.”
“What? You told her?”
“She’s the one who figured out Machi was fucking around with someone. Said he came out of the practice room absolutely reeking of sex. I’m the one who put together it was your dumb ass.”
“No matter what your excuses are for this, it has to stop before we get back to the US. If someone finds out about you two, you could be arrested. I could be arrested for letting it happen, we all could be in really hot water.” Klavier’s calmed a little now. Maybe Daryan’s reaction has soothed him a little. Maybe he thinks he can keep a lid on this impending disaster.
Klavier shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away. Daryan almost feels sorry for him for a second, the way the way the man seems to take everything onto his shoulders. Then he remembers it’s Klavier, who laughs at him when he’s weak and bosses him around about his sex life.
Klavier’s a jackass who needs to mind his own business.
But his words stick with Daryan. He visits Machi in his room. He’s reading the book Daryan bought him. Daryan’s overjoyed to see this, but doesn’t let it show on his face.
“How’re you liking it so far?” Daryan sits down next to Machi on the bed. Machi’s cute, lying on his stomach with his knees bent, heels kicking idly as he reads.
“It’s good,” says Machi. “I’ve read it before.”
“I should’ve known that you’ve already read a book about a guy who runs off with his teenage stepdaughter.”
Machi hasn’t looked up from his book. “That’s not what it’s about.”
“Then what is it about?”
“I think it’s about how a man destroys his dream by trying to possess it.”
“Wow.” For once, the silence doesn’t threaten Daryan. He’s not worried about falling into it, not desperate to fill it with any sort of noise. He likes Machi like this, sweet and relaxed, almost smiling. “You’re a deep one. Reading bores the shit out of me.”
Machi shrugs, turning a page of his book. Daryan strokes his back, cautiously at first, as if he’s scared to interrupt. Machi makes a very soft, pleasant noise, so Daryan decides to continue. “Machi. Can I ask you something?”
“What do you really want? Like, most in the world?”
Machi considers his reply carefully, just like always. “Money. And lots of it. Fast.”
Machi reads his book and ignores Daryan’s question.
“Money, huh?” Daryan ponders this for a while, rubbing small circles over Machi’s back. “I think I might know a way to come by that.”