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[personal profile] sarisia
Series of drabbles.
Yes, Tohshi, I'm finally posting them.
XD Clearly, I've been watching too much Heroes. But really, who wouldn't with Sylar being as incredible as he is?

All somehow with the theme: changes

Title: American Style
Pair: Kaidoh/Fuji
Summary: Cultural influences.

America had made Kaidoh different in the way touring the world hadn't for Fuji. In the years that Fuji hopped across countries - always, always returning to his home, to his mother tongue, to his native lifestyle - Kaidoh had left Japan and stuck stubbornly in America, aiding Japanese with his translations and teaching what he could.

The touch of the Land of Opportunity had made its impression - in Kaidoh's open smiles, in his expressive gestures, and in his friendliness (even to strangers!). And even though his Japanese instincts had not vanished - politely spoken still, appropriately behaved in any given situation - Kaidoh, the American, appeared behind closed doors with broad, confident shoulders and a more relaxed posture.

Fuji was curious. His mother had told him that curiosity would be his downfall, but so far, the only thing curiosity had led him to was tennis. Surely, having it lead him to Kaidoh couldn't be bad.

But whatever life Kaidoh had created for himself in America seemed to have equipped him more than just casual confidence.

When Fuji - forward, too forward - took Kaidoh's drink and set it aside with his own, there was a brief look of confusion before something clicked.

"Oh," Kaidoh said and smiled at Fuji - mischievous and wicked like a child; in the way that he never would have smiled before (not at Fuji, not at anyone).

Even though it had been Fuji to bring the idea to the fore, it was Kaidoh that cupped the back of Fuji's neck and pulled them together for a kiss - a kiss just as wicked as his smile. It was wonderful to not have to lead, to have Kaidoh's thumb at the corner of his mouth - urging his lips to part - and to have Kaidoh's other hand (hot through his jeans, heavy like a brace) on his thigh.

"What else have you learned in America?" Fuji spilled out - as quickly as possible so that he could taste sin again.

"Lots," Kaidoh breathed - in English, because that was quicker, because less time speaking meant more time kissing and Fuji was alright with that.

Title: Moonlight
Summary: Fuji's looking for something in the middle of the night and finds it in Kaidoh. [Points to anyone who gets the title reference.]

It was dark and it was cold. The grip on Kaidoh's wrists - pinning his arms against the ground - was unnaturally strong. It had been one of the first things Kaidoh'd noticed since arriving at the courts so late at night. Fuji's hold on him was like steel, unmovable and icy.

"I hope you don't mind," had been Fuji's first words after he'd tripped Kaidoh to his knees. "But right now, I need you."

The dreadful tightness of fear had wrapped around him then, while Fuji shoved him on his back and sat on his waist. Kaidoh had always thought of Fuji as someone light, someone fragile, but just then, he'd been heavy as stone.

"So, please," Fuji'd said as he'd held down Kaidoh's shocked, struggling arms, "don't make me hurt you. I just want a little taste..."

The fear hadn't abated. Even now, with Fuji making soft mewling sounds in the crook of his neck, it had as much of a hold on Kaidoh as the sudden, unexpected desire.

All because Fuji was drinking his blood.

Lips gently moving against his skin. His own adrenaline making his blood rush hotly through his veins and past the puncture Fuji's kitten-like fangs had made. A soft tongue passing across the holes to prevent scabbing... And through it all, Fuji whimpering and shifting to the beat of his heart as if the taste of blood was ambrosia, as if... as if...

Above him, Fuji shuddered and bit down on Kaidoh's neck a second time. While Kaidoh jerked at the pain and groaned, Fuji gasped, "so good," and moved harder against Kaidoh's body.

It was terrible. Kaidoh's hands tingled with the loss of blood. He was getting that creeping feeling up his shins. The world was spinning and the gravel was digging into the back of his skull. Still, he was hard and trying his damnedest to find some friction, bucking up under Fuji and moaning while the distant streetlights grew dim...

Kaidoh was cold. His fingers were stiff. His throat throbbed and ached, but each inhale (he was more than glad to noticed he needed the air) was welcome. A quick flutter of his lashes; dew wet his cheeks.

Above him, Fuji murmured satiated words: "Mmm, you'll be weak today," as if the thought of Kaidoh being helpless was pleasurable. He nuzzled his cheek against the curve of Kaidoh's jaw. "Do you mind if later...?"

Title: Met Need
Summary: The things we do for others.
Pair: Kaidoh/Fuji, unrequited TezuFuji

Fuji had known it was wrong from the moment he'd started it. From the instant the idea had occurred to him, it had been bad - destructive, horrible.

Kaidoh was easy to manipulate. Quiet, unsocial and cautious, Kaidoh blushed - openly, awkwardly - once Fuji made his intentions known and murmured out an intelligible sentence. Fuji couldn't remember what he'd said, if he'd said anything at all, but whatever it was, it hadn't been a rejection because when Fuji had leaned in to kiss him - though he'd retreated (in fear, in uncertainty) - there was the quick press of his lips in return.

That was why he'd chosen Kaidoh - over the multitudes he could have picked. Kaidoh, in his naivety, was eager to please.

It was worth it to be patient through what little effort it took. Just the hint that he was needed (or better yet, wanted), Kaidoh was in the palm of his hand - curious at being the focus of another when it didn't involved tennis, when it didn't involve anything but them.

Kaidoh learned quickly what he needed to do; that was the way of him. He learned to look for what Fuji wanted - for the things that made his eyes widen, for the actions that would illicit the right sounds or words, for the subtle ways of life that eased Fuji's need.

He looked happy at each success.

That was what got to Fuji after a while - the changes that Kaidoh underwent. He saw it long before anyone else in the club did. Kaidoh, adjusting his stances, his habits, the behavior in which he played (even if he could never change the methodology; there was no ridding himself of the Boomerang Snake along with the rest of himself).

"Kaidoh is looking more mature these days," some commented, but Fuji knew better.

Kaidoh was looking more like Tezuka these days.

It itched at the back of Fuji's mind every time he went back to Kaidoh and begged him for what he needed. It burned like accusation as Kaidoh did exactly as Fuji wanted - loomed over him, took control, took everything from him, and gave it right back. In his kisses. In his touches. In way he came in Fuji's body - almost comforting, almost impersonal, almost with the sharp edge of blame.

"Have you got what you came for?" Kaidoh asked.

And it struck Fuji then, that Kaidoh had always known. That Kaidoh, despite being naive and awkward and all sorts of uncertain, had known exactly what Fuji had been asking for since this had started and had given it to him anyway.

"No," he confessed before kissing Kaidoh's mouth and wishing it were another's.

"But this will do."

|||If you've made it here, you get an extra drabble because I'm a loser that forgot this one.|||

Title: Silence
Pair: Fuji/Kaidoh
Summary: Fear keeps him from speaking.

Kaidoh is afraid of Fuji, but hell if he'll let the other boy know it. Fuji would take advantage of it - he's sure. Fuji would waltz close to him in the darkness. His eyes would be intense - all narrowed focus and confidence - and his mouth would be curved in that devilish, "I've got you now" smile.

It wouldn't be Kaidoh's fault - truly - anyone would crumple beneath that look. Kaidoh dreaded the moment when Fuji recognized his opportunity and the leverage he held over the younger boy.

No longer would they search each other out for mindless comfort, in which they touched and tasted one another in an effort to feel that thrill of sin - of breaking rules and running in the face of convention. It wouldn't just be Fuji clutching at his shoulders while he scrounged for a sense of loss; it wouldn't just be Kaidoh, searching for the source of that great power that lay within Fuji's hands.

If Fuji found out... If he discovered that Kaidoh was afraid of Fuji seeing him, instead of nothing, that would be the end of it.

"An end is just another beginning," Fuji would say, lilting his voice as he teased with his fingers. "Like death," he would continue as his mouth skirted a smile beneath his jaw, "even a little one."

And perhaps it would be good still - even if it was different - to have Fuji see him for once, to have Fuji wanting him, instead of that abstract feeling he tried to grasp, while his fingers ghosted over collarbone and ribs.

His fear trapped the confession in his throat. Kaidoh wouldn't say a word. Fuji would find out all on his own soon enough; nothing stayed hidden from Fuji's gaze - no matter where it was directed.
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