Exorcising Pink

Eiri discovers he has a rather bad obssession...

Uesugi "Yuki" Eiri really liked the colour pink.

His eyes were drawn to the colour, his favourites being the bright neon shade similar to his lover's hair, or the dusky tint like… other parts of the boy. It was a bright yet sometimes sensual colour, in his opinion. He didn't mind wearing it, either, secure with his bisexuality and he didn't care what other people thought about a man wearing a supposedly girly colour.

But he decided that he could never tell his lover, or the boy just might squeal at a deafeningly loud volume before glomping him to the ground. And that would be just what he needed at this point, having just come to the realisation himself, a knock on his back and the weight of the boy in his lap. He could predict what would happen next: Shuichi would think it was cute of him to like pink and say so, and comment that it was –Gods—so romantic.

No.

He didn't need that right now. What he would prefer to have is time to figure out how to deal with this new obsession of his. He didn't want it and he didn't like it and he was certain that he did not want the brat to find out. So he did what he thought would be the most logical thing to do:

He denied himself.

Eiri went about the bedroom and gathered up all the pink he could see. The rose silk shirt he had purchased only last month but already worn more than ten times, the muted pink striped neck tie he had chosen to relieve an all black outfit, and the pink underwear that had previously been white until Shuichi had washed them with one of his red shirts. He scrounged about indiscriminately, tossing all the items into a box, including the pink Kumagurou-copy bunny his lover had left on the bedside table.

He methodically rummaged through the rest of their apartment until he was satisfied he'd gathered all the pink items in the house and boxed it away. Then he closeted himself in his study, satisfied with his morning's achievement and settled down to work.

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"Tadaima!" yelled a familiar voice from the door, twelve hours later. The call was followed by the sound of the door slamming and two thumps that would probably be the brat's shoes bouncing off the hardwood of the foyer floor. The footsteps pounded noisily down the hall toward him, and Eiri sighed as he continued tapping out the words flowing from his mind.

"Eiri!" Shuichi exclaimed excitedly, bouncing into the room. He flung his arms around the stoic writer, gave him a wet kiss on the neck and released the man to perch himself on the stool next to the desk. "You've been writing all day again!" Shuichi scolded, suddenly frowning at his lover.

"And how would you know that?" Eiri asked, not even bothering to look up from the composition of the fluff scene on his laptop. He knew the brat had this uncanny way of knowing things about him, but really this was taking the cake.

"You have that lopsided hunch to your posture, that's how!" Shuichi tugged on Eiri's sleeve, successfully getting the writer to finally face him.

"I'm busy, brat…" the writer growled. Gods, such pink hair…

"I brought dinner, let's go eat." He smiled, wide and sweet. "If you've been here all day then you must be starving by now."

Eiri's stomach, at that moment, voiced its agreement with the little singer. With a grin, Shuichi jumped up and ran for the door, calling over his shoulder,

"I'm going to put the food in the oven to heat and take a quick shower," he disappeared out the door, yelling as he went, "and when I get out, you had better have shut that laptop down!"

Hmph. The novelist turned back to his work.

Fifteen minutes later, the smells from the kitchen drifted in and sank down into his stomach as though echoing the emptiness. And just as he tilted the laptop screen down, Shuichi came bounding into the room smelling of strawberries. The little singer grabbed his hand and, ignoring Eiri's grumbling, pulled him out of his chair, down the hall and into the kitchen.

As Shuichi bent to the oven , Eiri caught a glimpse of flesh through the low armhole of the boy's loose tank top. A glimpse of a nipple.

A very pink nipple.

It was such an innocent manoeuvre, with a padded cloth in hand to pull out the stoneware dish of Lasagne, but it had him scowling with renewed vigour.

Shuichi set it on the dining table and snagged a bag of shredded cheese from the refrigerator to sprinkle across the top of the meal. Eiri liked Italian with extra cheese, and his stomach rumbled again, urging him to hurry. Plates, knives and forks were all set out, so he served, and sat to dine with his lover.

"Yum!" Shuichi giggled as he ate. "This is really good!"

Eiri looked up just in time to watch the brat's very pink tongue slide out and sweep up the tomato sauce on his equally pink lips. Growling, the writer stuffed another forkful into his mouth and grumpily chewed, looking everywhere but at the boy sitting directly across the table from him. They ate in silence for a while, with regular punctuations as Shuichi voiced his appreciation.

"Eiri, are you alright?"

The novelist refused to look up.

"You know, you shouldn't eat too fast after having not eaten all day, or you might get indigestion."

"I'm fine," he lied, and continued with his meal, helping himself to another serving.

Shuichi sighed, obviously not believing him, but said nothing. They wordlessly finished with their meal and cleared up, Shuichi breaking the silence to hum to himself as he did the dishes. As Eiri was turning away, he noticed his lover's shorts had ridden up his thighs a little, revealing the moist imprint the cloth had left over that tender backside from having sat on the creases for the duration of the meal. The flesh was crease-marked and quite brightly pink…

He stormed out and down the hall to the bedroom, to grab some clothes and take a shower. Scrubbing the water into his hair, he grumbled about never being able to escape the colour again since that singer had moved in. He turned to retrieve his shower gel… and stopped.

There on the shelf stood a clear plastic bottle of the pink strawberry-scented shower gel Shuichi liked so much.

Lips curling, he uttered an inarticulate snarl of disgust, picking the bottle up with just two fingers and aimlessly tossing it out of the shower stall. Crossly, he completed his ablutions and, ignoring the bottle on the floor, stomped his way out not bothering to dress. He draped a towel about his hips, scooped up his clothes and, dripping along the hall, mutely grumbled his way to the bedroom… and froze.

There on the bed lay Shuichi on his stomach, glancing back at Eiri over his shoulder. The singer had just caught sight of the half-naked writer yet already the brightest pink blush was blooming across his cheeks.

"I am never going to escape Pink, am I?" Eiri senselessly demanded, wet and dripping in the doorway.

"Pink?" Startled, Shuichi glanced up to meet his gaze, expression clearly confused.

"Yes, Pink!" Eiri hurled the handful of clothes in his grasp across the room and stomped up to the foot of the bed. "Pink, the colour!" he raged, "It's everywhere and I can't exorcise it!"

The boy sat up, brows furrowed. "But, Eiri," he whined, "I'm Pink! My hair, my strawberry-scented stuff and my favourite clothes…"

"Your tongue, your nipples, your skin when it's tender…" he growled, bad-tempered, not really thinking about what he said.

"I see," Shuichi murmured, suddenly smiling, a devilish look dawning in his lovely amethyst eyes as he reached for his own clothes. "Well then, I suppose the only way to get you to accept it is if you get used to it." He slowly slid his shirt up, exposing first his tanned torso and then the nipples Eiri had just been complaining about before pulling it over his shoulders and tossing it aside.

"Pink," said the little tease, pointing to a nipple. He slowly slid the finger up toward his mouth, watching as Eiri's eyes fixed on the digit then indicated his lips. "Pink," he said, then slowly slid out his tongue and swept it suggestively over the length, sucking briefly before licking the fingertip and whispering, pointing to the wet muscle, "Pink."

Shuichi slid the wet finger down over his chin, down his chest and stomach toward the tiny shorts before slipping the finger into the waist band and pausing to say, "Pink and purple down there, Eiri." He gently undulated his hips, giggling softly, "Want to see?"

"I hate pink," Eiri belligerently insisted as he dropped the towel and slunk up the bed. He leaned over to cover Shuichi's lithe little body with his own, bending to capture the boy's smiling pink mouth, and whispered,

"But I like it on you."

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