Drabble update
Apr. 23rd, 2005 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
petroniaThis took ludicrously long to write, though a lot of that is simple lack of free time (and I'd head off any further apologies you might feel impelled to make, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
javelle, by noting that difficult is infinitely preferable to boring XD). What I meant when I said Traffic was something along the lines of, the first time I tried to write Asami x Feilong Takaba came into it as well - and Takaba's friends, and Takaba's friend's friend's party drug hook-up, and the girls who work in Asami's clubs and Feilong's old nurse and his father's lawyer and some of the people whose names are on the infamous zip disc, and the police, and there I stopped because it was getting silly, but the following seems to have circled back to being a cut scene from that story. I mean, there's obviously Plot happening, it would be nice if I knew what it was.
Yin-yang pills are real. Or so I've heard, anyway.
***
javelle: Asami x Feilong
"Where is he?"
After a moment Feilong sets his book down on the table, careful not to lose his page.
"Is it safe for you to leave the country like this? What if there's... an emergency?"
Asami takes a few steps into the room and stops, his eyes narrowing slightly. A haze hangs in the air; it is sweet-smelling, though Feilong can no longer detect it. He lets his head fall against the back of the chair, and smiles.
"It helps with the pain," he said. "Bullet wounds are unpredictable."
Asami watches him a moment, then reaches into his jacket. Feilong expects a gun, but instead Asami tosses a small plastic bag onto the table. The tablets it contains are pale rose in colour. Feilong knows without examining them that they are embossed with a yin-yang stamp.
His mind moves with painful clarity. Is it an illusion? He doesn't think his body can follow.
"I see," he says. "Shibuya or Shinjuku?"
"Yokohama," Asami says. "All five thousand units. It's almost a pity: they've developed a reputation."
"Did the boy tell you that?" His own voice sounds faraway. Light, amused.
"What did you do with him?"
"What makes you think I would know where you misplaced your toys?"
He doesn't see Asami move. One moment the table is between them; the next Asami is leaning over him, one hand gripping the back of his chair, cutting off his escape. Trained instinct burns through the mental fog, and he moves to block the certain blow - but when Asami lifts his hand Feilong's gaze catches on the thin white scar marking the brown skin, and time stutters to a halt. Only for a split second: enough to lose the advantage.
Asami grabs him by the throat, and his mouth comes down roughly over Feilong's.
Impossible to breathe or to think. Reflexively he tries to struggle, but Asami gives him no quarter, forcing the kiss deeper. It's less seduction than calculated assault, heated and merciless. Feilong's heart pounds. His eyes slide closed; his hands catch blindly at Asami's sleeve.
He's on the verge of blacking out when Asami loosens his grip and steps back. Feilong gasps - and nearly chokes as his throat closes over something foreign. He doubles over, coughing spasmodically. A trace of bitterness lingers on his tongue.
"What did you—"
But he knows.
Butterflies to dance, diamonds to relax, yin-yangs for the woman you leave with at the end of the night.
His hair is in his face. Asami brushes a lock of it aside with his fingertips, the gesture incongruously gentle.
"A lesson," he says. "Do you want a war, Feilong? You have a war."
javelle, by noting that difficult is infinitely preferable to boring XD). What I meant when I said Traffic was something along the lines of, the first time I tried to write Asami x Feilong Takaba came into it as well - and Takaba's friends, and Takaba's friend's friend's party drug hook-up, and the girls who work in Asami's clubs and Feilong's old nurse and his father's lawyer and some of the people whose names are on the infamous zip disc, and the police, and there I stopped because it was getting silly, but the following seems to have circled back to being a cut scene from that story. I mean, there's obviously Plot happening, it would be nice if I knew what it was.Yin-yang pills are real. Or so I've heard, anyway.
***
javelle: Asami x Feilong"Where is he?"
After a moment Feilong sets his book down on the table, careful not to lose his page.
"Is it safe for you to leave the country like this? What if there's... an emergency?"
Asami takes a few steps into the room and stops, his eyes narrowing slightly. A haze hangs in the air; it is sweet-smelling, though Feilong can no longer detect it. He lets his head fall against the back of the chair, and smiles.
"It helps with the pain," he said. "Bullet wounds are unpredictable."
Asami watches him a moment, then reaches into his jacket. Feilong expects a gun, but instead Asami tosses a small plastic bag onto the table. The tablets it contains are pale rose in colour. Feilong knows without examining them that they are embossed with a yin-yang stamp.
His mind moves with painful clarity. Is it an illusion? He doesn't think his body can follow.
"I see," he says. "Shibuya or Shinjuku?"
"Yokohama," Asami says. "All five thousand units. It's almost a pity: they've developed a reputation."
"Did the boy tell you that?" His own voice sounds faraway. Light, amused.
"What did you do with him?"
"What makes you think I would know where you misplaced your toys?"
He doesn't see Asami move. One moment the table is between them; the next Asami is leaning over him, one hand gripping the back of his chair, cutting off his escape. Trained instinct burns through the mental fog, and he moves to block the certain blow - but when Asami lifts his hand Feilong's gaze catches on the thin white scar marking the brown skin, and time stutters to a halt. Only for a split second: enough to lose the advantage.
Asami grabs him by the throat, and his mouth comes down roughly over Feilong's.
Impossible to breathe or to think. Reflexively he tries to struggle, but Asami gives him no quarter, forcing the kiss deeper. It's less seduction than calculated assault, heated and merciless. Feilong's heart pounds. His eyes slide closed; his hands catch blindly at Asami's sleeve.
He's on the verge of blacking out when Asami loosens his grip and steps back. Feilong gasps - and nearly chokes as his throat closes over something foreign. He doubles over, coughing spasmodically. A trace of bitterness lingers on his tongue.
"What did you—"
But he knows.
Butterflies to dance, diamonds to relax, yin-yangs for the woman you leave with at the end of the night.
His hair is in his face. Asami brushes a lock of it aside with his fingertips, the gesture incongruously gentle.
"A lesson," he says. "Do you want a war, Feilong? You have a war."
