Warnings: Yaoi, Incest, Shota, Anal, and all that good stuff.

Pairings: Tohma x Suguru (cousin love!) And "hints" (very, very big hints) of Hiro x K.

Disclaimer: I do not own these very naughty boys... very, very naughty boys.

A/N: I've been in love with this pairing ever since I first saw it typed before my eyes. Unfortunately, none of the stories about the two cousins were every finished, so I'm writing this to keep myself busy while I wait for endings that may never come. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I am. And if you can figure out how the title makes any sense with the story... well, you're one step ahead of me.

Relatively Courtship

Chapter One

This day had been one gigantic headache for Suguru. Not that every other day wasn't filled with pain behind his eyes, for they were. He was out of aspirin from this week alone. As his long fingers massaged his temple, he added several bottles of pain reliever to his mental shopping list.

To start the morning, he had arrived just on time, he did so every day. It was as if he could never be late. His internal clock woke him promptly a five each morning, and once the 'fifty-nine' became a double zero on the alarm clock beside his head, chocolate eyes were open and there was no returning to slumber and dreams.

By 5:10 he was at his keyboard, warming up his fingers with scales and etudes written for just such occasions. His fingers knew their exercise routine by each of their little hearts, giving Suguru's mind the time it needed to fully awaken. By the last note of the final song the teen was fully alert. After playing came the daily hygienic routines, followed closely by a minimalist's breakfast; a single slice of lightly toasted bread and a few gulps of chilled water. Then it was off to work, to which Shindou had been rather late. Their rehearsal had been nothing more than endless repetition of three measure phrases, Shuichi couldn't remember any of his lyrics.

To make the day 'oh so much better' K-san decided to check on their progress. It entailed of playing their new song, or beginning to play it, Shindou forgetting the words, yet again, the whole band having to stop, then Suguru realizing the truth of how miserably they were failing, several bullets and a grenade later. The whole fiasco ended with the group consensus that the day would be wasted if they kept as they were, Shuichi running home to his darling Yuki Eiri, and Fujisaki finding himself alone inside the white-walled studio. K and Nakano had apparently gone for a drink together. The offer had been extended to Suguru; more out of guilt that he was alone than their desire to have him with them. He declined, naturally, as, not only was he underage, but he found alcohol to be quite unappetizing. Being alone was to the keyboardist's liking at the moment, maybe his headache would even disappear, as his bandmates had managed to.

No part of Suguru moved beside his hands, his fingers coming to rest on familiar plastic. He hardly ever left the square cell around his keyboards. It usually wasn't necessary to expend energy that could be used to play a few minutes more; there was an arrangement to begin, and several to improve here and there. He had his work laid out before him, but his concentration wouldn't stay. The pain in his forehead would not leave, even though there was no shattered silence, killed by a bubbling pink-haired singer and a wailing guitar.

He wished he had gotten more sleep. The teen should have been in bed by eleven, instead of two in the morning. It was proving too difficult to focus on the serious music, Fujisaki found his hands playing notes that were not his own. Music flowed from his synthesizer that belonged to his competition.

He could always deny it, he was alone, no one would be there to point out his mistake. It was his secret to keep, and a secret he intended to keep it. His secret was much larger than merely playing one song that was not his own; it had begun with the first time his cousin had given him a piano lesson. At his younger age, his feelings had merely been the normal idol worshiptry that youngsters felt for someone older, but Suguru hadn't grown out of his feelings for his cousin, rather said feelings had grown beyond him.

As Nittle Grasper's music flowed from the synthesizer, the keyboardist closed his eyes. Fantasies and desires were instantly conjured in his mind, a certain blond cousin was lightly running gloved hands over Suguru's body. The music swelled in a wild crescendo, pounding in his head, driving his mind wild with desire, but bringing with it the splitting pain that had never really left his forehead.

Suguru never showed any signs, physically, from practicing; at concerts he remained as pale as ever, hardly breaking a sweat by the time he was walking off stage. However, his cheeks now became flushed as his imagination continued to torment him. His breathing became shallow gasps and a fine glistening film of moisture appeared on his skin, yet his fingers continued to press the black and white plastic beneath them as if by their own accord. His headache was growing steadily, as was something else, about halfway towards his toes.

Suguru had been wrong in his assumptions, in thinking himself to be alone. It would seem too obvious at this point to simply state that he was not the only keyboardist in the studio.

Tohma Seguchi, president of NG Records was standing in the open doorway and across the room from Suguru. Through the sound-proof glass, his eyes never left his cousin and the signature smile never left his lips. It was the same mask that he wore around his house, the one he used when doing business, the very same he maintained when dealing with his musicians, bandmates, even the smile shown to millions of fans in magazines, newspapers and on stages across the country. Some thought the legendary keyboardist had smiled in such a superficial manner for so long his face had forgotten how to form any other expression. Only the musician himself ever saw something different. It was his other self that he didn't like, the one that no one knew. There was a reason he hid that self; a reason for the perpetual falsely upturned lips. Tohma knew that no one would like his unseen side, he would be rejected, hated, and shoved away by those who said they loved him. That was the reason for his well kept secret.

Green eyes took in everything about the younger cousin, from the pink in his cheeks to the bead of perspiration that gently made its way downward, like a trickling creek just beginning to form after a summer shower. The president's eyes followed the little rivulet as it outlined his cousin's high cheek bones, then traversed the plain below each protrusion to duck under his chin. It reached the musician's pale neck and dribbled downwards. Only when his sight of the droplet was thwarted, as it disappeared behind the collar of a black shirt, did his eyes move back to the boy's face, catching a swift pink tongue as it darted out to wet parched lips.

If there was one time Tohma wanted himself to forget his mask, it was when he was with his cousin. He wanted Suguru to know the true him, the one behind the false smile and black gloves.

How many times had he thought of his younger cousin, how many days had he sat behind his desk, allowing fantasies to dance through his mind and how many nights had pleasant dreams of the keyboardist kept him company until his alarm woke him? Too many.

Seguchi's attention was pulled to his cousin as the boy's music, or rather his own, ended abruptly.

Suguru sank to his knees, resting his pounding head upon the synth before him, ending the song in a final chord of cacophony. His headache was no better than before, if anything now worse, and all he could think about was that man. The very same man who's fault it was that the boy was in this state and the one who happened to be his cousin.

"Damn..." he sighed, "Tohma why do you make me feel this way?"

Suguru hadn't intended for there to be a reply to his question, but he was startled when a cloth-covered hand brushed against his cheek and an all too familiar, all too real voice replied.

"Make you feel what way, cousin?"

Instantly the younger musician was standing, ready to turn and run from the last person he every wanted to be asked that question from. He was blushing now, his cheeks must have rivaled Shuichi's hair, if not an actual strawberry. He had to think fast, there had to be some excuse for everything his cousin had seen, but the problem was: how much had Tohma witnessed?

While Suguru was busy stuttering away a doubtful excuse, Tohma brought his hands to rest upon either side of his cousin's face.

"Do I make you want to do this?" With those words the blonde touched his lips to his cousin's, lightly pressing skin to skin for a few moments before pulling back and finding the boy's shock-widened brown eyes, "Because you drive me to."

Tohma softly caressed Suguru's flushed skin, then removed his hands from their frame around his cousin's face. The president of NG records walked briskly out of the studio, leaving a silent musician staring after him with fingers lightly touching his pink lips.

To... be... continued...

Review or I'll kill a character off in each new chapter!