Harmless Solitude
Yosuke
Romance/Drama

AN: Again, I write a fic for a category I've not really bothered to surf. I read through all of the manga (that's been publicized in America, anyway) and watched both seasons of the anime plus a spin-off, but I haven't read any fanfics. Mainly because I guess I don't feel like shoveling through the piles of drabble and bad smut. I'm too picky sometimes, I guess.
I came to realize that the concept of this story has actually been done about a million times, and I know this now, however I've enjoyed writing this so much that I still feel compelled to post it. I hope you all can forgive me for being slightly unoriginal.

In case you didn't notice it in the summary, this is a fetish fiction, and is rated for sexual content.
Story takes place somewhere in the middle of the series.

JR not mine.

It was cruel how his mind played tricks on him. Misaki Takahashi didn't appreciate it in the least, and the last thing he had ever had any intention of doing was compelling his daft sense of reality at that moment. Something inside was telling him he missed Akihiko Usami, but that was positively absurd. No way would Misaki ever not be glad to be away from his mentor for a week. No way would Misaki not be ecstatic about not being molested once every hour, on the hour. No way would Misaki not be elated to cook a smaller dinner and have the television to himself and not worry about some intimidating or juvenile friend of his mentor showing up at his doorstep to somehow ruin his day.

And no way was Misaki staring at the empty side of the couch on the other side of Suzuki, where normally his mentor would be sitting, ready to pounce on him at a moment's notice.

And no way was Misaki's eyes drifting to his cellphone every few minutes to see if he could somehow predict when it might ring.

And... no way was Misaki feeling absolutely and unmistakably lonely for the first time in two days with no Akihiko Usami around...

'He's only been gone two days,' Misaki thought sullenly, referring to the business trip Akihiko had been arranged to go on by his publishing company, as he sank down in his spot on the couch. 'I've still got four more days to go... If I'm so miserable now, how am I supposed to last?'

He nearly ripped his own hair out at the thought. He couldn't believe he'd become so dependent on Akihiko Usami, the man who relied far more heavily on his lover than he was certainly aware. Misaki felt so weak and slightly stupid, but he tried to chalk the whole thing up to late teenage hormones and some kind of separation anxiety. He hadn't been left by himself in a long time, not since first coming to live with Akihiko. Perhaps it could be considered expected to feel lonely after having spent every day with the overbearing and possessive novelist.

"Guess I can find something to distract myself with..." Misaki moped and climbed to his feet, eyes scanning the flat for something to do. School was out for the season and he'd already arrived home from his early-morning job. Now that it was eight o'clock in the evening and he was off of work the next day, Misaki suspected it would be a long, uneventful, and torturous night.

His gaze skimmed the luxurious belongings of the other man in hopes of finding something to distract himself with, however nothing appealed to his senses immediately. Despite how many lavish things Akihiko owned, none of them met Misaki's taste. They were either too complicated to figure out or too childish for someone his age to bother messing around with. Like a toy train... What grown man owned a toy train? Even a collector would have more taste than to play with it in his own living room like that...

Misaki stopped in his thoughts, eyes focusing in on the toy engine sitting in the middle of the walkway between the living room and the kitchen. What was this doing out here? He stooped and picked it up, careful of the attached cars connected only by plastic links and magnets. Strange, he had thought, that Akihiko could like something like this, but perhaps it wasn't as strange as he was making it out to be. The man had shown a genuine interest in child's playthings since day one. There were far more odd things hidden in this man's bedroom than the little toy Misaki held in his hands right then.

Sighing and cradling the item in his arms like it was worth far more than Akihiko had probably paid for it, Misaki trudged up the stairs to Akihiko's room to deliver the train to its rightful place beside the man's bedstand. He tried to make the trip as painlessly as possible, but found this to be an impossible task the moment he opened the door. The toys haunted his presence, and he shivered at the amount of stuffed bears staring at him with their hollow marble eyes. Once he set the train down on the floor, a far enough distance away from the bed, the boy thought to launch himself from the room as quickly as possible to shake off the daunting feelings ensnaring him, but he found himself too weary from the atmosphere of the room. Sure, the place creeped him out to an extent, but more than that, it made him sad. The room smelled like Akihiko, and if he tried hard enough, he could almost see the man's sleeping form in the bed.

Misaki approached the bed and gently pulled back the unmade sheets. No Usagi. He sighed, not only at his loneliness, but at his own desperation. How pitiful he must've looked... If Akihiko saw him right then, he'd never let him live it down.

It felt like the novelist was in the room right then; his presence held that much influence in his mind, and Misaki half-expected to feel those strong arms ensnare his shoulders. But when he turned his head to look behind him, no one was there but the shadows the light from the hallway created in the dim room.

'I'm an idiot,' Misaki thought sullenly as he dropped to a seat on the bed. 'I'm pitiful... and a hypocrite... I tell him not to touch me but the moment I realize he's too far away for him to touch me, I want nothing more than for him to...'

The boy stopped that thought process immediately, knowing all too well what kind of reprimanding he'd give himself for acting like such a lovestruck teenager, and one that was in love with another man. He shivered visibly. He couldn't believe how much he'd given in to this gay thing... He'd never, in a million years, expected himself to act so... homosexually. Just the word made him shiver again. There was no disdain for the idea, just an unpleasant awkwardness. He wasn't gay. He was just... in a thing... with another guy... Yeah, there was sex, but it wasn't gay sex, it was just sex... And Akihiko did say he loved him, but it wasn't gay love, just...

Misaki's gaze dropped to his knees, where his hands were fisting themselves in his jeans. Akihiko loved him. Did he really? The man had tried to prove himself several times, but the idea that someone like Akihiko could be in love with such a... child... It was just a hard thing to swallow.

Gradually his eyes moved from his hands to the floor, where he spotted the scattered toys laying unorganized on the carpet.

Toys... A toy... Was Misaki just a toy? Akihiko had shown such a strong interest in these playthings, items meant for children, and it was all to replace his damaged childhood, like one big extended experiment. So was Misaki just a part of this experiment? Akihiko could never date the way he'd wanted or sleep with the people he desired, namely Misaki's older brother, so... was Misaki just something on the novelist's bucket list?

Misaki wanted to cry, and he hated that. He despised crying, and especially over something so trivial. What did it matter if the older man only wanted him for a lifestyle experiment? Misaki should've been thrilled at the prospect of being so accepted and loved, even if it might've been false love.

But the tears stinging his eyes brought him back to reality, and how much his heart hurt. He missed Usagi. He wanted Usagi there, and he wanted Usagi to tell him he loved him. He wanted Usagi to kiss him and make love to him, for all the boy's protesting and denial. He wanted those big, warm hands to cradle him and soothe his tears, if only to make him cry again for the need of release, when Usagi would tease him in the cruelest ways, bringing him to the brink of climax but leaving him there to suffer and whimper his name until he begged just the right way. Then Usagi would push his body over the edge and let him come, bringing him down gently from his euphoria with soft kisses and promises of love, and those large hands would once again ease the pain from him...

The boy jerked up in his spot, brought clear out of his daydreams as he realized painfully what he'd been dreaming about. It wasn't the first time, but it was a hard thing to admit that he'd just had a sexual fantasy about Akihiko, and the tightening of his jeans attested to this fact. Blushing, though there was no one to be embarrassed in front of, Misaki folded his arms in front of his stomach and curled in on himself, too ashamed with himself to sate his carnal desires and tend to his body's needs. He'd managed to stop the tears, but he felt they might come back again with the pain in his abdomen. He needed a buzzkill or release, and he wasn't sure which one would end less painfully for him.

In the end, the atmosphere of the room made that decision for him, as the smell of Akihiko once again permeated his senses and Misaki was left to sulk over his absence. He'd be gone for four more days... He wouldn't know if... he did anything... right?

With a mortified feeling, the boy found himself moving, almost mechanically, into the messy bedsheets, finding a comfy spot and curling the bedspread around him, almost caccoon-like. He felt bad about laying in the bed in his jeans but figured he'd be washing the sheets before Akihiko returned home anyway, so what the novelist didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Though it was hard to move his legs with the pants on, as they tangled easily in the sheets. His cheeks flushed, he buried his face in the pillow and inhaled the scent of Akihiko's shampoo and cigarettes, then burrowed his hands under the fabric of the sheets to the waistband of his pants. He'd make this quick. No need to beat around the bush, right? Just a simple release and that'd be the end of it. No one would need to know.

Pushing his jeans down tentatively, he screwed his eyes shut as if he were being watched and moved next to slide his boxers down to meet his pants at his thighs. There, step one done. Next, the simple task of doing what he'd practiced several times through puberty. Nothing new, nothing strange. Just plain old masturbation.

But it wasn't simple, and it was indeed strange. No matter how much he focused on making this like the dozens of other times he'd jerked off, it felt oddly sinful and dirty. It took him a moment to realize that this was because he still felt Akihiko's presence in the room.

Paranoia outweighed his momentary horniness, and his eyes peeked open to look at the doorway. Still bereft of life; only the light from the hallway shown through. Next his eyes glimpsed at the large walk-in closet, the doors left wide open. No one was there, of course. Blinking through the still-drying tears, he let his gaze sweep across the entire bedroom and found no one, not even the shadow of a human, there to impose on his moment.

Well... at least he could be rest-assured that no one was watching, and no one would find out, so long as he could get the laundry done before Akihiko arrived home. Breathing in deep once, his hand curled around himself and he began to bring himself to further arousal slowly. He twisted in the sheets a little, his legs twitching and his breaths becoming shorter and more desperate. His eyes were shut tight again as he felt the blood pound under his skin, his face flaming hot with embarrassment and need.

Three minutes in and he expected himself to be further along in his journey to completion, but the eerie feeling from before would not leave his mind. Something was very off about the room, more so than he'd ever felt before, and he couldn't help himself from looking around the room again for any trespassers.

Still, there was no one, but the feeling of eyes on him weighed heavily on his mind, and for a moment he had the crazy notion that Akihiko had maybe left some sort of camera in the room to send him video just in case Misaki did something like this. But Misaki dismissed the idea almost immediately. Akihiko could be creative but not that creative, and while he'd disturbed his sense of privacy on several occasions with that loathsome smut he wrote on a daily basis for his horny fan base, Misaki would, at the very least, trust that Akihiko would never pull something so unbelievably dirty as to film him without his consent. If anything, the man would've tried it long ago, if he'd had the gall, and probably would've done it somewhere far more appealing to his eyes, and also a place that presented more opportunities for some good shots of naked, lustful Misaki, such as in the shower or in his own bedroom.

So with no person or video device present, what was left to anchor to that eerie feeling of being watched? The curtains on the window were closed, all the doors were wide open with no one nearby, and dim shadows held no strangers...

And finally, as if being charged with an electric shock through his body, Misaki's hand stilled and his eyes settled on what he could rightfully claim were the voyeurs that had been haunting his mind since he first walked in.

The toys.

Stuffed bears, clowns, the odd wooden grizzly statue, toy soldiers, a couple of china dolls... All of them, bearing black beady eyes and vacant expressions, gazed down on Misaki's trembling body curled under the sheets, all of them watching absently as Misaki committed to this lustful act.

Why on earth he should've felt embarrassed about being watched by lifeless toys was beyond him, but the fact that there were any eyes on him right then felt almost as terrifying as if Akihiko were watching Misaki himself. It was wrong, and it was mortifying.

But... it was also... strangely arousing...

The idea that Akihiko could be the one standing over the bed right then in place of the toys, remaining motionless and silent while watching poor little Misaki trying so desperately to bring himself to climax was sending a cold fire through the boy's stomach. His whole body began to tremble and his heart beat twice as hard in his chest. He couldn't believe he liked the idea of voyeurism. Of all the strange fetishes he could have, it had to be the most embarrassing one. Misaki's eyes clamped shut as he buried his head under the sheets, finding it far too strange to even let the toys look at his shaking self. He attempted to continue his ministrations in hopes to end it quickly and get out of that forsaken room, but for some strange reason, no matter how wonderful his touch had felt before, it held no potency now. Misaki was stuck on a veritable plateau of arousal and his hands could do nothing to ease the strain. Why was this? Why couldn't Misaki bring himself to completion?

His foggy mind returned to the toys standing watch over the bed, and the boy winced, suddenly well-aware of his situation. Now that he'd discovered the eyes on him and how much of a turn-on it had been, he wouldn't be able to reach climax if he didn't allow them to watch, as if Akihiko were truly there to help him finish the job. Misaki moaned with a mixture of disappointment and sexual frustration. He... He needed them to watch, no matter how silly the idea. The dolls, despite their lifelessness and lack of contribution to the situation, would be Akihiko's substitute.

With perspiration dotting his forehead and his body shaking from the effort of retaining his arousal, Misaki bit his lip and slowly kicked the sheets from him, laying flat on his back and staring absently at the ceiling. The sheets had felt stuffy and left his skin slightly sticky, so the rush of cool air felt tremendously welcome, and Misaki couldn't help but bask in the chill for a moment before his body reverted his attention to his groin. He closed his eyes for only a moment before glimpsing up at the toys, imagining Akihiko there instead to watch him, and returned his hand to his pelvis, continuing where he had left off.

It was strangely... amazing. The thought that he was being watched while doing something so private sent jolts of excitement to his mind and manhood, and his pace quickened. His lips parted as his breathing sped up, Usagi's name slipping out every now and then in breathy sobs. His heels dug into the mattress as his legs wobbled drunkenly, trying to part to allow his hand better access but the jeans tangled at his knees prevented this.

In his mind, Usagi stood over him, watching in place of the toys, giving no expression except his usual serious face, arms crossed and seemingly unamused by the boy's antics. But Misaki knew better. Usagi was just as excited as he was, and was probably throwing a little party in his head for finally seeing his young lover lose his inhibitions in such a wanton way. But Usagi hid it well, and only praised the writhing boy beneath him with wayward glances down at his blushing manhood.

Misaki nearly came at the thought. Muffling a cry into his sleeve, he closed his eyes and jerked his head away from the direction of the toys', of Usagi's, intense, unblinking stare. But it didn't help. He knew the eyes were still there, and his mind wouldn't let that fact leave. In his mind, Usagi was still watching undeterred, and with Misaki's sudden bashfulness, the novelist would deliver a punishment. Those large hands the boy had so desperately yearned for earlier reached down and grasped Misaki's weeping length carefully, stroking him for just a moment before pulling Misaki's hands away, leaving the burning spot suddenly ten times hotter with no hands-on contact.

The student couldn't contain his cries this time as his hands fell limply to the bed beside him, knowing well that there was no Akihiko there to actually restrain him, but the fantasy playing out in his head forced these actions to take place. Misaki couldn't touch himself anymore. Imaginary Usagi wasn't allowing it.

Misaki twisted against the sheets, fingers digging into the mattress as he sought out completion through sheer willpower, but there was no such reprieve. Usagi was sitting beside him now and watching Misaki's utter helplessness, genuinely amused by his crisis. Misaki begged to be touched, but Usagi wouldn't have any of it.

"Misaki," Usagi whispered warmly above him, speaking his name in that endearing tone. The boy felt like he was going crazy, not just with his need for release, but how easily his mind fell into this fantasy. How desperate was he for the other man's touch that his mind was creating such illusions? How much did he really need Akihiko? How much did his body need him? How much longer before he admitted that... he loved him?

This was just some harmless solitude. Completely harmless solitude. Akihiko wasn't here, and he'd never know about any of this. The fact that he was embarrassed by an imaginary Akihiko could be a little understandable, but just knowing that his lover wouldn't know about his little exhibition helped his confidence tremendously, and Misaki dared to let his desire venture further.

"Usagi, I..." he choked out, but the words tangled on his tongue. Desiring greatly to finish the job, to reach orgasm and satisfy his body's curiosity over this fetish, Misaki once again screwed his eyes shut and gripped the bedsheets even harder. "Usagi, I love you."

The room felt so still then, and for a moment Misaki thought that perhaps his daydream had ended, but he was wrong. He felt his shirt slide up to reveal his stomach, though he knew it was his own hand pretending to be Akihiko's. Warm fingers traced phantom patterns along his shivering belly, following the taut plane down to the curve of his hip bones and even further to the dark curls in his lower region. Misaki whined, his eyes still shut tight as his body lifted slightly to meet the haunting fingers more forcefully, but Usagi kept his touches light.

"Misaki, say it again." Usagi's deep voice rumbled in Misaki's ears, and for a moment he almost thought the man were truly there.

"I love you, Usagi."

"Again."

"Usagi, please..." Misaki begged, his breath hitching with repressed sobs. "I love you... Please, touch me..."

"Misaki," Usagi responded quietly, and then his hand gripped the boy's neglected length and began to stroke him in earnest. Misaki moaned, long and loud, head thrown back against the pillow as he fought to keep control over his hormone-hijacked body. But the hand on his manhood, the hand he was pretending to be Usagi's, was driving him mad, and the eyes watching him only made it worse. He liked having Usagi watching him. He liked being displayed for his lover like this. He liked being teased, and he liked that Usagi was the one doing it, if only in his imagination.

With a few final strokes and whispered words of love, Misaki not even daring to open his eyes for fear of making the man of his dreams disappear into a doll-ridden reality of solitude, the boy came harshly, well aware of the eyes watching this lustful act as his seed stained his hand and his stomach. His body trembled violently as an erotic moan was elicited from his open, panting mouth. With his back straining from the arch it was in, Misaki allowed a few last strokes before his climax washed through him thoroughly and he was left to collapse back onto the mattress, boneless and heaving. The afterwaves of his orgasm rode through him pleasantly, making his abdomen throb and his breathing heavy. Blinking through bleary-eyed pleasure, Misaki tried to see if he could still force Usagi's image there above him, but sadly, all he saw was the dolls, their expressionless faces showing no approval or disdain for what they had just witnessed.

'If walls could talk,' Misaki thought comically, 'then they'd sure have a story for Usagi. And I'd never get to live it down.' For the first time that night, Misaki was a little glad Akihiko wasn't there. Now that his hormones had calmed down, he could see much more clearly how ridiculous he must've looked, and how shameful what he'd just done was.

But still, it would've been nice to cuddle into Akihiko's arms right then, even if Misaki always denied that he liked spooning. Sighing quietly and far too tired to even clean himself up, Misaki resolved to taking a nap to restore his lost strength and energy, knowing that, in that harmless solitude, he wouldn't be lonely for much longer, and if he could keep Usagi's trusting presence in his mind like before, the solitude wouldn't seem quite so lonely. At the very least, he still had the dolls to keep him company. They'd proved their worth in this quite decently.

Yawning lightly, Misaki settled into the sheets, curled up on his side, as he waited for the peaceful night to allow him to sleep and continue dreaming of Usagi... as much as he hated to admit it.

Only moments had passed by, and Akihiko just couldn't tear himself from the doorway of his bedroom. He'd expected to come home to a slightly lonely Misaki Takahashi, trying to keep himself busy with long-since completed studies or watching TV, and the moment Akihiko would walk in, Misaki would welcome him home then complain about not having enough alone time.

He'd never... never... expected to see what he had just seen in his bedroom.

Akihiko had arrived home early from his trip, skipping out on the "getaway" conveniently planned by his editor, which was a poorly-masked trip to meet up for a discussion with a big production company for turning another one of his books into a made-for-TV movie. He'd gotten a day and a half in before realizing just how torturous and awful the trip was going to be with all the detestable business chatter and the presence of all the people in the world he just flat out didn't care for. With thoughts of cute little Misaki waiting for him at home, he'd taken little time to contemplate the circumstances and quickly boarded the next flight home.

Little did he know that his cute little Misaki would be splayed out... on his bed... half naked... touching himself... and for the cherry on top, moaning his name.

It seemed like a kinky plot from one of his books, and if he thought about it hard enough, he faintly recalled having written something very similar to what he'd just experienced. Had Misaki read the book? Was Misaki practicing something for Akihiko to please him? The novelist had never demanded Misaki play out any of the things written in his books...

The idea fell dead at his feet. When it came to lovemaking, Misaki was shy, even downright mortified about it. He always complained and begged for Akihiko to stop, though the older man had always seen right past it, had seen that Misaki truly enjoyed his touch. He'd proven it before, by getting the boy's body aroused into a nearly painful state, and once Misaki had uttered another "P-Please... stop, this is embarrassing...", Akihiko drew his hands away and sat back, watching a dumbstruck Misaki twitch uncomfortably on the bed, his face red hot as he slowly succumbed to Akihiko's game and shamefully asked for his lover to finish the job.

So with Misaki so easily embarrassed about sex, and so outright against his "smut-peddling", Akihiko had trouble seeing what Misaki had just done on the man's bed as an act of courtesy towards Akihiko's sex-driven imagination. And besides, it had seemed that Misaki had been in an imaginary world of his own while touching himself. The moment the novelist had walked into the room, Misaki seemed to have trouble believing he was there. If he'd known he was real, he was sure the student would've buried himself in the sheets and nearly piss himself from embarrassment. But instead, Misaki had simply carried on as if Akihiko hadn't been real. Even when he'd reached down to touch him, even when he'd spoken his name, Misaki had seemed to pretend it wasn't real and fully allowed the intrusion on his body.

But what convinced Akihiko more than anything was when a trembling, red-faced Misaki had quietly spoken words of love. That was the moment he was sure that Misaki didn't really see his Usagi there, because Misaki would have never so casually or affectionately speak such words of endearment. Akihiko took no offense to this, he just knew it was Misaki's nature.

But simply knowing that Misaki loved him in return, even if the words hadn't been meant for him to hear, was enough, and the novelist could do nothing more than return the affection and help Misaki finish reaching climax. Seeing his young lover twist against the sheets as such, shaking and arching up to receive the man's touch had been more than he could take, and immediately after Misaki had reached orgasm, Akihiko bolted from the room, too worried that he'd ruin the fantasy for poor little Misaki by jumping on top of him and fucking his brains out. If Misaki ever knew that Usagi had been real, that he'd actually seen what he'd done and heard what he'd said, the boy would be mortified, and as cruel as Akihiko could be sometimes, he just didn't have the heart to put him through that much misery, as comical as it might've been.

So, at the risk of being found out, Akihiko returned downstairs to collect his coat and keys, and headed back out to find a hotel for the night, planning on returning the next morning to surprise Misaki with his early arrival without letting on about what time he'd actually arrived.

And all night, while he knew that Misaki would be dreaming of him, Akihiko would be doing the same for Misaki. Because after all, if Misaki could enjoy a little harmless solitude as he had, then Akihiko sure as hell would enjoy his.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Ze end
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AN: When I started this, I had absolutely no intention of making it a fetish fic, it just ended up that way. Honestly, I didn't even have a storyline or ending picked out. It just kind of... flowed out as I started typing. I'm like a plot wizard. Or PWP wizard. Something like that.

Review, my lovelies.