Work Text:
After years of work, they’ve finally finished their first concert.
“The Sohma Boys” — an all-male adult K-pop band, formed of six members. Their names are Shigure, Ayame, Hatori, Kureno, Akito, and Ritsu. They’ve dedicated their lives to this. They spent years in specialised training classes. They sacrificed many things — relationships, too — just to get here.
As soon as they finished on stage, they disbanded, some before they could say goodbye. The first to leave had been Akito.
And Shigure isn’t having any of it.
When he first reaches her hotel room, having only partially undressed, Shigure considers not knocking. He’s hardly going to see anything he hasn’t seen before, but then he remembers Akito hates his guts, and if he wants to stand a chance of staying here more than a minute, he ought to pay her just an ounce of respect. It’s not as if she deserves it from him, but Shigure is going to get what he wants even if it takes manipulation and a sprinkle of narcissism.
He knocks once. No response.
He knocks a second time.
“What?”
Taking that as permission, Shigure wastes no time opening her door. Akito is alone, wearing nothing but a silk dressing gown which is falling off her shoulder. She’s taken off the show make-up and put on just a tiny bit of mascara and red lipstick. Sitting in front of the dressing table, she takes a sip from a glass of what appears to be whiskey, her eyes not once leaving her reflection as Shigure enters the room.
A tiny smirk tugs at his lips, as he closes the door behind him. Akito has yet to turn her head, or even move, spare lifting the drink to her lips and finishing the rest of the glass. As Shigure steps towards her, a scowl begins to tug on her face. She reaches forward, refilling the glass with whiskey and taking another long sip.
“Did you have fun?” Shigure asks, walking around to behind her. That’s the first time he meets her eyes; not directly, but in her reflection. Eyes full of contempt and guilt, Akito looks away, lifting the glass back to her lips.
When he gets no response, Shigure raises a hand, and reaches forward to place it on her bare shoulder. Immediately, Akito swats away the attempt at touch, before defensively pulling the gown back over her shoulder to cover it.
“Get off,” she snaps, slamming the glass back onto the dressing table. A few drops of liquor spill over the edge and splash onto the table. “Why are you here?”
“To talk to you,” Shigure says, taking a seat in the arm chair just across from the dressing table. He scoots closer to Akito, a soft grin tugging at his lips as he leans forward and raises an eyebrow. “We’re colleagues, right?”
Akito says nothing.
Tilting his head, the smile on Shigure’s lips only widens as he meets her cold, sidelong glare and asks, “So, was it all worth it?”
“And here we have it. This is everyone.”
When Akito hears that voice, she wants to throw up in her mouth. Years have passed under Ren’s command; years of pure emotional abuse, manipulation, and blackmailing. And yet here she is, standing before her, dressed as a man, with her mother now as her manager. It’s true that becoming an idol has been her dream ever since she was a little girl, but she should’ve never allowed Ren to take control, because now she’s pretending to be someone she isn’t, in a band with five other men.
She makes eye contact with none of them as Ren hands out a book of songs to begin rehearsing. Immediately, it becomes clear that three of them know each other — a man with long hair and a flamboyant aura, a man with a totally nonchalant face and black hair, and a man whom Akito refuses to acknowledge she’d been previously associated with. Actually, she knew him from specialist training school, but he was ignoring her now and she’d rightfully do the same.
“Shigure!” the man with white hair bounds up to the other, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him over. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you! Oh, how dull my life has been. And see, Hatori is here too!”
“It’s good to see you too, Ayame,” Shigure smirks, pointedly ignoring Akito despite the fact she’s staring at him. “You too, Hatori.”
“Ah, so you three know each other?” Ren asks, walking over to them. She smiles at Shigure, and Akito bites down the urge to slap her, or scream at her to get away from him, because like every good thing in her life she’s sure Ren can ruin that too. “Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence you got picked together, hm?”
“It is indeed, miss,” Shigure says, nodding at the other three. “And who are these, again?”
“Ahh, yes,” Ren smiles, walking over to Akito. She places a hand on her shoulder. “This is Akito, my son. But rest assured, there will be no special treatment.”
Akito almost gags at being called her “son” — she’d barely even consider Ren to be her mother.
She lets go, continuing to the other two. “Here’s Kureno, and this is Ritsu.”
Immediately, Ayame leaps over to Ritsu, grabbing his hair and pulling him into a hug. “Ah, you are so beautiful! And— Ooh, who’s this cutie?”
Akito looks away. She doesn’t want anything to do with this one. When she looks up again, she meets Shigure’s eyes, and he smirks at him. Yeah, so he does remember her, and yet he hasn’t said a word about—
“That concludes today. We’ll be back tomorrow morning first thing to rehearse,” Ren says, dismissing the rest. “Oh, and Akito, darling? Please stay for a moment.”
“Shut up.”
Despite the way she aggressively spits her words at him, Shigure doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he reaches forward, and wordlessly plucks the tumbler of whiskey from Akito’s grip. He raises it to his lips, finishes off the glass, then places it down in front of her softly. Her eyes trail up to meet his, eyebrows narrowed but despite the venom in her glare, she doesn’t utter another word.
“The silent treatment, hm?” Shigure hums, standing up and brushing past her, as he walks over to the door and locks it. “Or is there something you need to say to me? Perhaps an apology?”
“I have nothing to apologise for,” Akito hisses, pouring another glass of whiskey before standing up hastily. Her steps staggered, she eventually makes her way to the balcony door, sliding it open and stepping outside.
With little vacillation, Shigure follows her.
“I’ll ask again,” Akito says, words sharp as she lifts the glass to her lips, taking a sip. “Why are you here?”
Shigure grins. Of course she knows there’s ulterior motives. There always is between them. “I thought there was a conversation long overdue. It appears I’m correct.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Akito mutters under her breath, leaning on the railings. It’s cold at this time of night, as they look across the horizon, listening to the fans still screaming outside the concert hall. “We’re colleagues now. Let’s leave it at that.”
Two steps forward, Shigure stands beside her, his back to the railings. Their eyes meet for a split seconds before Akito’s avert to the glass again, a bitter sneer following.
“Do you still hate me?” Shigure asks.
“That depends,” Akito spits, finishing the rest of the glass, her movements growing gradually slower. Her eyes narrow as she huffs, resting the glass on the table outside before adding under her breath, “Do you still resent me?”
Akito hates all of this.
She hates the group. She hates the music. She hates her manager. She hates the fact Shigure is here. But most of all, she hates the fact Ren knows about her and Shigure’s past. She hates the fact she snooped into every inch of Akito’s history with the man and used it to blackmail her own daughter into achieving her dream.
“You called me?” Shigure says, arriving at the empty practice room. It’s their only day off; Akito has no choice but to break it to him now. He smiles at her, spotting her resting on the side of the stage. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to see you here. I never expected to see you again after we parted ways, in fact.”
“You didn’t expect me to be famous?” Akito hisses, raising an eyebrow and sliding a metre away from him when he takes a seat beside her.
“Not in my area, at least,” Shigure mutters, frowning at her. “And certainly not in an all-male group. Ah, but I am happy to see you. I’ve missed you.”
Akito looks away. She draws in a deep breath, eyes locked on the floor as he says shakily, “We can’t be together. You need to pretend you never knew me.”
“Oh?” Shigure raises an eyebrow, and for once, he actually sounds genuinely shocked by something. A second later, however, he grins. “You know, I never actually said I wanted to be with you again, though.”
“Just—” Akito hisses.
It takes one more glance; one more second of eye contact, before she’s grabbing his collar, pulling him towards her, and smashing their lips together. Shigure freezes at first, but the second she moves her lips, he moves in sync with her. Seconds later, there’s a hand on her thigh and another on her waist, then a tongue sliding past her lips and that’s precisely when Akito realises this is a mistake.
She pulls away, standing up immediately and walking several metres away. A hand buried in her hair, she fights back tears. She can’t be with this man and she absolutely can’t miss him either. Ren says so. And if she disobeys Ren, then—
“Of course, if you were offering to get back with me, I couldn’t possibly decline. It’s impolite to reject a women, you know.”
“Pretend you don’t know that!” she spits at him, pacing back and forth before jabbing a finger in his direction. “Us. Pretend it never happened! I’m a man now, got it? We never happened. We have no history.”
“Ah, I see,” Shigure hums. Slowly, he stands up, walking over to her as Akito takes two steps back. “It’s her, isn’t it? This is her idea.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Akito yells, raising a hand defensively in case he comes any closer. No matter how hard she tries, Ren’s words forever ring through her head, and even looking at Shigure feels wrong. “Just get out!”
“I don’t think I will,” Shigure hums. Before Akito can stop him, he’s closed the gap between them and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close. Her heart racing, he exploits her vulnerability, lifting a hand to her face and running his finger smoothly along her jawline.
He doesn’t make another move. She doesn’t pull away.
“I’ll ask again,” Shigure says quietly, not a trace of a smirk on his lips. “Is this her idea?”
“Yes,” Akito hisses, “She says males make more money. She said she had a group and needed me. Then she told me we couldn’t be together.”
“How does she know?”
“She knows everything!” Akito screeches, yanking herself out of Shigure’s hold. “Just get out! You don’t know anything!”
“Is it really worth it?” Shigure asks, “Being someone you’re not?”
“It doesn’t matter! It’s the only way I’ll achieve what I want!” she yells, gaze falling to the floor as a bitter expression twitches onto her face. “Besides, I hate women anyway, especially women like her. It’s better this way.”
“Mhm,” Shigure hums. He takes another step towards her but is abruptly stopped once again.
“Just—” she hisses, “Leave. Get out. Pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Maybe.”
“Of course,” Akito spits, rolling her eyes. Picking up the empty glass, she goes back into the hotel room, slamming the glass down onto the dressing table and grabbing the bottle of whiskey. Footsteps staggered, she makes her way over to the bed, perching on the side of it.
Shigure follows, closing the door to the balcony behind him, followed by the curtain. He hears a slight sneer from Akito as he does so, a grin tugging at his lips.
“So,” Akito continues bitterly, leaning back against the bed, taking a long gulp of liquor straight from the bottle. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”
“I don’t plan to interrogate you,” Shigure says. Slowly, he lowers himself onto the bed beside her, the shirt falling off his shoulder a little. “I’d like to know how you are.”
Akito doesn’t answer verbally to that. Instead, she raises the bottle to her mouth again, knocking back a long swig. The dressing gown drapes over her thigh, and exposes a slight peak of her cleavage, but she doesn’t pull it back. Her eyes never once meet Shigure’s, as an unimpressed, disdainful look spreads across her face. The aura of bitterness radiating from her is nothing short of vicious, and yet, Shigure knows she doesn’t hate him.
He doesn’t hate her, either, but he won’t admit that first.
The next time she drinks from the whiskey, Shigure reaches over and plucks it from her hold. He places it on the floor at the foot of the bed, watching as she frowns at him, pulls her dressing gown further over her chest, but doesn’t give a response. In contrast, Shigure undoes the next couple of buttons of his shirt.
“When have you ever cared how I am?” Akito hisses, pulling her legs up onto the bed and drawing them into her chest.
Shigure scoffs. “When have I not cared, hm?”
“When you had sex with her,” Akito spits.
“Who?”
“Ren!” Akito screams, turning to face him, her eyes burning with fury but Shigure sits there unfazed nonetheless. “My mother! Why?! What was the point?!”
“That was simple,” Shigure hums, leaning against the bedpost, wondering how much longer he has to wait before he comes just another notch on hers. A tiny, sadistic grin twitches onto his lips as he answers, “Revenge. That’s all.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Akito yells, hands gripping the bedsheets and trembling as she edges closer to him. “I was threatened! Blackmailed! I didn’t have a choice! She— She controls everything, and you just— You slept with her?!”
“One time,” Shigure says, “I may have crossed a line, but it wasn’t without reason.”
“It was totally unreasonable,” Akito hisses.
Shigure hums, the smile fading. “How did you know?”
“Ren told me,” Akito says under her breath, looking physically sick at the thought of it. “Just… shut up. It’s over now. We’re over. You mean nothing to me.”
“I’m not leaving,” Shigure protests. He runs a hand across the sheets, meeting her eyes again. “You still didn’t answer my question, you know.”
“It doesn’t matter!” she screeches, swatting his hand away and shuffling away. “Get out. Go check on Ritsu or something. He wasn’t all too pleased either.”
“Uhm… Akito?”
When Akito hears that voice at her dressing room door, she panics for two reasons. Firstly she could’ve sworn she’d locked it, and secondly, that voice belongs to Ritsu, and Ritsu isn’t one of the two people who knows she’s a woman. She’s fully dressed, albeit in an all-black dressing gown, make-up removed, so she probably doesn’t look particularly masculine.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Akito spits, eyebrows furrowed because it’s the end of their rehearsals and she should’ve gone home by now.
“I’m sorry!” Ritsu cries, closing the door behind himself. “I really did knock, I promise! Sorry!”
“Tch,” Akito clicks her tongue. “Why are you still home? Go home.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Stop apologising.”
“Sor— Ah—” Ritsu huffs, leaning against the doorframe. A redness creeping onto his cheeks, his eyes advert to the floor, as he fiddles with the zip of his jacket. “There’s, um, something I wanted to talk about, and I wasn’t sure who else to go to.”
“Mhm, so you chose me?” Akito hisses, leaning back in the dressing table chair. Waving dismissively, she sighs, “Speak quick. I want to go home as soon as Ren is ready.”
“Oh… Okay,” he murmurs. Two steps further into the room, he meets Akito’s eyes for a second, before they fall to the floor once again as he says, “I’m… a woman, I think.”
Akito’s heart stops. Why is she telling her of all people?
Shigure. It must have been Shigure. He must have told—
“Why?” Akito asks.
“I— I’m trans, Akito…” Ritsu says, grabbing the fabric of her shirt. “I… want to become a woman.”
“Don’t,” Akito spits her response, meeting her eyes and glaring venomously. “Women are horrible creatures. Selfish. Toxic. You don’t want to associate with them, let alone be one.”
“But I—” Ritsu stammers, face flushing once again. “I know you’re a woman too, Akito. And I… I really don’t understand—”
“Who told you that?!” Akito screeches. “Was it Shigure?! I bet it was that f—”
“No, nobody told me! I just… noticed! I’m sorry for assuming!” Ritsu cries, breaking out into tears a minute later. “I’m sorry! I just— I don’t understand what you’re doing! You’re… You’re a woman, and yet you—”
“Get out,” Akito orders, jabbing a finger at the door, a bitter glare narrowing in on Ritsu. “And don’t you dare tell the others.”
“But I just wanted to—”
“Get out!” Akito screams again, picking up a glass of water and impulsively throwing it at Ritsu. “Don’t pretend you understand anything! You don’t! And don’t use me as your emotional outlet!”
“I’m— so sorry!” Ritsu sobs hysterically, “Please forgive me!”
“Get out,” Akito says one last time through her teeth. “I don’t want you here again. You’re just causing me problems. Well… perhaps that makes you more like a woman after all.”
“Ritsu is with Kureno,” Shigure tells her. “Only Kureno knows what’s going on, I believe.”
“Yeah…” Akito huffs, leaning back against the pillows. She stares up at the ceiling, and Shigure’s gaze follows, staring at the light which is switched on but at its dimmest setting. Gaze dropping to the bedsheets again, the bitter edge to Akito’s words returns as she adds disdainfully, “I hope Ren is pleased.”
Raising an eyebrow, albeit recognising that as sarcasm, Shigure reaches over, pulling the dressing gown off of Akito’s shoulder. This time, she doesn’t protest, as his hand brushes against her cold skin and she shudders.
“So what if she isn’t?” Shigure hums, the devious smirk returning to his lips. Shuffling closer, he crouches behind her, one hand trailing up her past her shoulder and into her hair, and the other sliding down to her now bare waist. She flinches at that, but once again doesn’t swat his hand away. His grin deepening, Shigure moves one hand up to her chest, as he leans closer and whispers temptingly in her ear, “If she’s not, then she won’t be so appalled to learn of what’s going on here.”
It takes less than three seconds for Akito spin around, grab Shigure’s collar, and pull his face to hers. Their lips smash together so hard it almost hurts, but neither of them care. Hands sliding down her back, Shigure lifts Akito onto his lap, sitting back against the headboard. Sliding her tongue past his teeth, Akito keeps one hand on his neck, the other slowly unbuttoning her shirt.
A minute later, Shigure snakes his fingers into her hair and yanks her head away, forcing apart the sloppy kiss. Eyebrows raised, he lets out a sadistic chuckle.
“It’s interesting, how this always happens,” he says, the hand previously on the lower end of her back rising to her chest. “You hate being a woman, and yet you’re never afraid to use that fact to get what you want.”
Akito lets out a low growl, before grabbing his face with both hands and closing the gap between them. She pulls on his hair, grinds against his waist, holds his neck and borderline chokes him; anything to make him uncomfortable but Shigure can only smirk.
Two can play this game, he thinks as he bites her lower lip until it draws blood, then tears off her dressing gown, leaving her completely nude. A sneer from the other can be felt against the kiss, as Akito claws at his shirt and rips it from his body. Her knees dig into the sides of his thigh, and her crotch rubs roughly against his, which Shigure can already feel is growing tight against his pants.
“Hng—” she lets out a strangled moan, feeling his arousal as he bucks his hips and presses them against her crotch. Blindly, she gropes at his pants, his fingers fiddling with her nipples, making her movements slowed and unsteady. Eventually, she pulls his pants and underwear down, before grabbing his member and yanking on it.
Shigure suppresses a moan, instead grabbing her hair to show the pent-up tension. It feels good — it feels amazing, like a thousand unspoken words of hostility are being conveyed as passionate love-making. Perhaps there is some remnants of romance lost in there too, but the way Akito claws his back and hovers over his arousal, endlessly teasing him, Shigure wonders if those will ever come to light.
Moments later, their lips meet again, the kiss now softer. Akito parts her lips as Shigure’s tongue brushes past her teeth. Her breath smells of whiskey and mint, the red lipstick smearing against Shigure’s lips and teeth. She’s grinding against his crotch still, as Shigure bites down on her tongue, the pleasure too overwhelming to speak or do anything else.
Akito growls at him and winces, but again, she doesn’t pull away; instead, the kiss grows harder, and rougher, and angrier. Their hands meet at some point, through harsh touches, and the way their fingers tangle together you’d almost think they were trying to break each other’s.
“Ngh, I hate you,” Akito hisses, grabbing his neck and burying her fingers in his hair, before lowering herself onto Shigure. Immediately, she clenches around his member, her mouth hanging open as Shigure softly moves his hips upwards, pushing himself deeper into her. Teeth gritted, Akito begins to move, pushing herself against him repeatedly. Her mouth hangs open still, quiet moans escaping her lips every second.
Shigure thinks she’s most beautiful like this; eyes rolled back, hair messy, lips smeared red and half parted in ecstasy.
Hands on her shoulders, he begins moving in sync with her. Their bodies move together, beads of sweat rolling down their chests as the bed creaks. Everything grows blurry, their senses heighten. Suddenly it’s as if this is their first-time making love.
After an unknown time passes, Shigure pulls her closer, the smirk wavering as he begins feeling close to climax already. Their lips meet one last time, Akito taking control of the kiss this time, albeit with little dominance, but Shigure lets her anyway. She bites his lip, before slipping down to his neck and sucking until she leaves a mark.
A strangled groan escaping Shigure’s throat, he grabs her waist, giving a final thrust before he comes inside her. Seconds later, Akito follows suit, every muscle in her body visibly contracting and relaxing, then she clenches around his shaft and orgasms. The moan which accompanies it is low and strained, but still laced with pleasure.
They lie there for at least a minute, panting against each other’s chests, not making eye contact or daring to utter a sound. The intimacy they share — who cares if it’s hate or love?
Shigure certainly doesn’t. He doesn’t suppose Akito cares either. It’s probably both.
“I think I’ll ask again,” Shigure says as Akito rolls off him. He turns to look at her, grinning. “Was it all worth it?”
Eyes still dazed, Akito doesn’t return the smile as she mutters her response through pursed lips. “Yeah. Whatever.”