L'Arc en Ciel fanfiction .::. Offer and Demand

Episode 14

Life has a complex way of screwing you up. Little by little, like precision work. Not one millimeter gets spared of the relentless torment until your whole self is trapped against the wall with no chances of escaping your fate. And every move you make, every desperate move you make trying to get out of your awful situation, it will only make it worse. Like a fly trapped in a cobweb, it's pointless to try to run away. You have become dinner.

Life is like that.

I get dressed slowly, a bitter taste in the back of my mouth. My fingers nervously reach a cigarette and I place it, unlit, hanging loosely between my lips.

My stomach feels weird, as if I had eaten some leaden piece of rotten food, and although it's not cold in here, my hands are shivering.

I finally come to accept that I am alone in this... nobody will help me because nobody can help me. It would be too embarrassing to admit everything that has been happening to me lately. Whether by the hand of misfortune, or by the hand of my own stupidity.

And so, I resort to the only person that's always been with me, whether I requested it or not, whether I wished for his company or not: the man in the mirror.

I approach it doubtfully, almost in shame; I lit the cigarette that faintly sticks to my dry lips and I finally raise my head to face him.

He looks bad. He looks beaten. He gives me a pitiful stare and exhales smoke through his nostrils, just like I do.

The morning glow shimmers against the smoke and creates a halo around his image.

"I gotta put an end to this..." I complain sotto voce. I think he agrees. "This is getting out of hands. I really gotta end it now. It was a bad idea to begin with... I better go back to the start line and think of something else... right?"

I think he agrees again.

"I mean... Gackt's pay loosened the rope around my neck a little... but it didn't take it away." I start condescending and I hate myself when I do that. "So... basically I think we both should forgive me and try to move on from here... right?"

He smokes and stares at me. His lips move as I speak, but I don't know what he's trying to tell me.

"Do you think... I should... you know... break up with her...?"

The smoke creates a halo around him again and I lower my sight. Yeah, it'd be a drag if I did that so suddenly... having to deal with the whole ordeal all by myself. Besides, there is no way I want to go back to my previous state of instability. I need someone to take care of me. Cook for me, clean my mess, get my clothes and bath ready... I thought she'd be the right person for that job. Who would have thought she'd be such a vixen?

But now... now is no time to dwell on would-have-been's. Now it's time for me to take a serious decision about my life and where I want it to go. And in order to succeed, I gotta take care of things one at a time. Methodically, in an organized fashion. Because I cannot possibly afford to lose.

Gackt, my finances, my career, my life...

What is it I wanted to do with my life again?

I get dressed sluggishly after crushing the end of my cigarette against the blue ashtray, I grab my sling bag and I sweep the car keys up from the top of the hotel room's chest of drawers. Then, I get out of that place and I address myself to the next stop in my rehabilitation program: Meeting Gackt.

Driving from one end of the country to another... from one hotel room to another... my life has become pretty empty.

Years ago it was full of friends, admirers, lovers and money. Today very little of that remains. To think I'm just in my early...erhm... mid thirties.

Sometimes when I think about everything that's happened to me, I can't believe it. I'd swear I was just out of high school only yesterday.

I drive absent-mindedly, like an automaton... I'm the fly in the cobweb, and the sad thing is...I flew straight into it.

A couple hours later I enter the hotel room. This time there was no butcher-like butler to greet me. I thought that was a relief.

The poor illumination in the parlor made me think Gackt had already arrived. However, he didn't seem to be around. I sighed and dropped my sling bag on the couch, then I sat down.

There was a small heap of magazines on a coffee table nearby. I reached out for them and noticed Gackt was in every cover.

What the fuck...? I can't believe just what a stuck-up jerk he is. If he thinks he's gonna impress me because he's on the cover of a magazine, he's dead wrong.

That rat...

(He makes it to the covers more often than I do...)

That rat...

I heard a soft sliding sound by my side, immediately followed by a dry flap. It was hard to see in such poor lighting. I wished he were a little more considerate with me. After all, we both know my eyesight is not exactly perfect.

The card key had apparently slid away from the pocket of my bag and dropped to the floor.

I crouched and taunted for it while cursing under my breath, when a beam of light hit me.

(Ah! There it is!)

Gackt had come into the room, carrying a bottle of sake and what seemed to be two traditional cups.

I blinked and looked at him rather perplexed, while remaining in my crouching position.

“I love it when you blink like that.”

“Thanks. Fuck you, by the way.”

“Sure. In a minute.”

I slid the card key back inside the pocket of my bag and sat back up on the couch.

“You look scared.” He observed.

“Oh, gee! You are truly a fucking wizard! A fucking asshole psychic!”

“I find your use of language to be rather vulgar, pumpkin.”

“Definitely, fuck you.”

“You are probably anxious to experience, once again, my reputed love expertise and sex savoir faire. In a minute, dear, please be patient. Rest assured you won't leave this place without your due... hmm... fuck.”

At that point I felt something convulsing inside me, and I seriously thought if I killed him right there, nobody would seriously blame me. I was at a loss of words, and I just stared gaping.

He opened the sake bottle and poured its content generously inside each cup. He took one, and pushed the other one solemnly towards me.

“Have a drink... we will discuss a few matters before we really get to our business.”

“I am not thirsty.” I replied laconically.

“You will soon be.”

His voice was surprisingly disturbing. Not because I would be surprised if anything he did was actually disturbing, but rather because his particular inflexion made the gauge in the Gackt-weirdness-meter go tilt.

“Your ex-manager has sued you after you removed him from his position to, in an act of sheer puerility, give it to your wife. You are in no position to face trial. You will lose.” He added, and it sounded like he was savoring each and every one of his words. The coldness in his voice made me imagine an executioner, reading the same sentence to the twentieth man on the death-roll that day.

I knew there was no reason for him to show any emotion towards my problems, but I still felt uncomfortable hearing him talk about them so dejectedly.

I didn't reply.

“The way things are, you can't even hire a lawyer in time. Your wife is a spending machine gone wild...”

“...a lean, mean, spending machine...” I muttered nodding. He ignored my words and pranced around the room in an affected manner.

“...you are broke, in debt, and sued. You must be desperate.”

I wiggled in my place uncomfortably. “So... thanks for the news. Now tell me: Will you pay?”

“And yet...!” He raised his voice and turned around to look at me sternly. If he thinks this is intimidating me, this bastard doesn't know I've been sufficiently exposed to the “stare that makes you pee on your pants.” Megumi trademark.

“...yet, instead of focusing on the core of the matter, you are just trying to plug some minor creaks.”

“And you are a major freak.”

He smirked and shook his head giving me a despising look.

“Your capacity for rhymes is admirable. I suppose this is a side effect to writing lyrics.”

“No, I'm just looking for a creative way to insult you. So... tell me, smartass, what do you suggest?”

“Get your ass safe, first...”

“Uh-oh... then I shouldn't be here.” I smirked in irritation.

“What would you do if your arm got hurt and started bleeding profusely?” He asked in a patronizing way.

“Uh... cry...?” I taunted.

I think I caught him rolling his eyes.

“Hm... Call a doctor!” This time I couldn't have missed.

“The doctor is here.”

“Gee... I don't think I'd want to see your license, doc.”

He chuckled and nodded, and I finally gave in.

“I don't know, poppa Gackt. What should I do? I mean, aside from putting my butt up for hire.”

“Apply a tourniquet.”

“Uh...” That sounded like a Marilyn Manson video...

“To stop the bleeding.” He finally said, probably trying to make it clearer. Unfortunately every time he wants to make something clearer, he ends up making it more complicated.

“All right. So how do I stop just half of the people around me from bleeding me to death?”

“Apply a tourniquet!” He repeated reinforcing his words with an embittered tone.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Talking in metaphors is all right when it comes to writing lyrics and impressing chicks; but when it comes to financial trouble, it is certainly uncalled for.

He left his cup of sake on the table and smiled at me lustfully.

“Shall we...?” He asked brushing my shoulder with his hand.

I lowered my head in humiliation. “Will you... pay...?”

“I will.”

I nodded and stood up to follow him. I felt a cloak of shame wrapping me... the taste of the bitter dust of defeat already in my mouth.

Gackt sat on the bed and patted on the spot next to him while smirking at me. I returned a grimace of disgust and watched as he lit a cigarette.

"You won't blindfold me?"

"No need to."

"So...?"

"Undress. Slowly... sexily."

"I... hmm... now?"

"Yes." He moved himself towards the bed header and lay there watching me and smoking behind his lecherous grin, his arms behind his head, he prompted me to obey quickly with his chin.

I took my sweater off, and then I started undoing my shirt.

I raised my eyes and watched him casually stroking his crotch.

"You won't undress?" I asked trying to sound casual too.

"In a minute."

I took off my shirt and undid my belt.

"Turn around and show me your tattoo." He commanded in a deep voice. His natural voice, actually.

I did. He was going to pay after all.

"Ah... my fallen angel."

"Shut up."

He chuckled at my reaction.

"What are you so angry about? If the sex was bad the previous times, you really didn't show it."

"It wasn't that... It... wasn't bad." I snapped piqued.

"How was it?" He lured me.

"...good..."

"Good?"

"OK, awesome." I snapped in embarrassment.

"So, why the frowning?" He asked amused. I turned around to face him as I took off my pants.

"Because you fooled and humiliated me."

"You thought selling your body for sex would not be humiliating?"

"You still fooled me."

"Your underwear." He prompted as he crushed the end of his cigarette on the night table's ashtray. "Slowly... sexy... you know how to do it."

I sighed and bit my lip. I looked at the ceiling and swallowed the big lump in my throat. "...and I'm straight." I murmured.

"Sure. So am I." Gackt replied right away, his voice bereft of any form of inflection.

I slid my fingers under my underwear and played a little with its rim, rather awkwardly. Then I grabbed my crotch slightly and suddenly I noticed Gackt approaching me fast.

"Let's just get you in the mood, my beloved. I guess not knowing turned you on a lot faster."

"It's not that...!" I protested, but he surrounded me with his arms from behind and rested his hands on top of my own, which were still resting on my crotch. I noticed he had taken his shirt off... which surprised me. I guess he must have done it when I was staring at the ceiling.

"Good... slowly... let's play a little before we really get to business."

"Just... OK... OK, listen. We'll do as you wish, as long as you pay for it; just... don't hurt me. Don't hurt me like that time when..."

"I won't. It was a stupid mistake. It won't happen again." He said rushing his words.

"Oh... well... OK. I'll do what you want and I'll get the hell out of here after that, and..."

He yanked my head backwards and kissed me. It was not a kiss... it was more like he was trying to suck my soul through my mouth. More like he was trying to have mouth-to-mouth sex with me, and I felt I was being invaded and subdued at the same time.

He slipped his hands under my boxers and caressed my crotch slowly, his fingers playing with every fold of my skin, his thumb enticing my erection, his other fingers fondling lovingly the different textures of the most sensitive part of my body.

Why? Why does he know exactly what triggers me, what gets me going. He seems to know it better than I do, and the mere idea is rather scary.

His other hand caresses my stomach, and I feel his fingers playing with my belly button piercing, then softly intruding my belly button while he keeps sucking my mouth inside his.

I start moaning... I can hardly believe it. It's almost as if I was hearing myself from outside of my body. Why am I moaning like this? Why... why... why am I enjoying it in this way? I was supposed to be mad...

His hands move slowly upwards and he presses me against his chest, his left fingertips start playing with my nipples and I start kicking the floor to release all the tension mounting in my body.

"Want it now...?"

"I... I..."

He sucks my mouth again dumbfounding me, and his right hand encircles my dick and starts rubbing it slowly but firmly.

You see... at this point, I'll let him do anything he wants. At this point, I've lost control over myself, my rational side is off duty and all I can do is put myself at his sexual disposition.

I love this, I love how he does it. He's so natural at this... it feels like there is nothing in this world that could surpass the high feeling.

"Want it now...?" He whispers again against my ear. His erection pressed hard against my buttocks.

"Yes!"

He raises me instantly and takes me to bed. I don't know how he manages to put me just in the right position because my body feels bland and foreign to me... uniquely devoted to feeling what he has to do.

He is all over me and starts licking my neck while still holding my dick in his right hand. I'm moaning like the whore that sadly I am and enjoying this like I had never imagined I'd ever enjoy sex.

He keeps licking me down my back and waist and I guess I tuck my butt up and then he moves lightning fast and starts rimming me.

It's as if he had some sort of remote control on my body. He absolutely masters it. I'm enjoying it so much I start crying and roaring when he suddenly releases me and places both his hands on my hips. I know what he'll be doing in a fraction of a second... he'll be doing exactly what I'm craving for.

He penetrates me slowly, yet steadily, and I shriek at first, then I moan and gasp. I love it... I really love it. This is the best sex ever, and I know now that it just was not unfortunate that I got into the prostitution business. Man, it was fate. It was fate and I was lucky.

It was a little after four in the afternoon when we started... and we kept going at it all night, all night... until the sky began lighting up again, and I fell exhausted and out of breath, my legs and crotch (and butt) already numb; and he cradled me to sleep in his arms, and I buried my head under his chin and against his chest, sobbing happily.

Idiot... what a corny idiot I am. What a sex-deprived creature I have become over the years...

What a stud he is.

I woke up that afternoon when the sunlight hit my face straight on. I rubbed my eyes in annoyance and sought the tender embrace, the desired warmth in the body of my lover, but I found myself alone.

I taunted around me, somewhat hoping he was actually there, even if I knew he wasn't. I peeked through my slit-open eyes only to confirm he was no longer with me. I dropped my head heavily on the pillow and sighed looking at the blurry ceiling.

"I need a cigarette." I told myself under my breath, and as I extended my arm towards the night table I noticed a roll of money on top of it... just by Gackt's cigarettes. He either left them there for me or he forgot them.

And you see, this is where the biggest dichotomy attacks me.

Because I want the money, I want him to pay... anyone to pay... I really need the money... but I also would have liked that there was no financial transaction implied in this.

I would have loved to wake up to him, and smoke his cigarettes and not have to think of money.

The coarse feel of the bills under my fingertips returned me to reality.

Why are you doing it, Gackt? Why...? Lust? Is it really lust? What are you trying to tell me?

You are carrying me by my dick like you carry your doggie by the collier for a walk. Why? Where are you trying to take me?

I light the cigarette and inhale nervously. Then, I take the money and spread the bills it in front of me, on the bed, around my legs. I count it... it's plenty. I'm a whore. I'm a real whore. And I want to cry about it, but I am also grateful for the pay.

The next thing I did that morning (er... afternoon) after I left the hotel room rubbing my butt, was going home and looking for a dictionary.

I felt I was in some sort of spell, as if I was watching myself from the outside. Almost like walking inside a bubble, seeing the world through its transparent shield.

I didn't want to think about my situation, however, everything kept playing in the back of my mind, like the background noise of TV when you're doing something else. I got home and there was nobody else except for the dog, who had shamelessly kidnapped my Harry Potter slippers for personal use. My mouth was dry, and the aftertaste of tobacco persisted on my tongue even if I hadn't touched a cigarette since that one at the hotel.

I left my shoes in a safe place. (We know the dog has a fetish for my feet's odor.) and staggered tiredly to the kitchen.

A dictionary. A had to remember about the dictionary. I wouldn't admit it to Gackt but I have no idea what a tourniquet is, except for that Marilyn Manson song. I opened the refrigerator door dejectedly and grabbed a bottle of mineral water. I opened it, closed the door and leaned on it while I drank. Cool water felt good in my mouth and throat.

I saw a far reflection of myself on the shiny surface of the oven's door. A shadow... the barely recognizable silhouette of a man. That's what I'd become. A man of indiscernible features, leaning beaten against the refrigerator door. Everything had been pulled away from me. Money, dignity, pride... even my Harry Potter slippers.

I moved out of the oven's door range and sat down at the kitchen table. I love the view here... I can watch the pile of undone dishes in the sink that so remind me of my single-man days. The light coming into the room in thin threads, joining near the refrigerator into one bright pool of light. The white curtains with a daisy pattern that Megumi had hung there before we got married. I can even remember when she did that. “It'll illuminate your day every morning.” she said. I just think it's corny. But I love the view nonetheless. It brings back memories of tranquility, of ease, of a certain sense of security... a certain sense of love.

Where did it all go?

I finished my water and padded slowly to the living room. I grabbed a dictionary from the bookcase and sat down on the sofa, next to the dog. It wagged its tail twice and went back to snoring.

I was determined to follow any clue leading to the restoration of my former financial ease.

In truth Gackt is a retard. A pompous retard.

He's such a retard I think he should have never been let out of that psychiatric hospital where he claims he once was.

I have hurled the dictionary against the wall five minutes ago and I'm smoking impatiently.

“A tourniquet”.

I would like to apply one to Megumi's neck, or even Gackt's neck; but that would get me into legal trouble on top of my already established financial trouble.

I roam around the house angrily, cursing at every piece of furniture and every tiny object that I catch sight of.

Where the fuck is Megumi? Why isn't she here?

I'm not gonna wash the dishes!

I want to eat!

I am not going to cook again! That's why I got married, after all! To have someone idolize me and do all the housework I hate doing! She's not complying with any of those two requisites!

What is the fucking point of being married if I'm not getting any benefit from it?!

I know I've lost my temper. I know I can be very scary when I lose my temper. I know it because the dog is yawning.

I hurl another book against the wall and I start screaming in fury, when suddenly my manly squeal gets interrupted.

Megumi has arrived. Oh, boy... perfect timing! I'm going to to end this stupid relationship right now! I'm gonna tell her to get the fuck out of my life! I'm gonna screw Gackt for the next ten years! I'm gonna...

"What are you doing standing there and looking like an idiot?" She snaps with disdain.

"Um... How's your day been, honey?" I hear myself replying. "I was just exercising my voice, hehehe..."

I'm a fucking wimp.

She shrugs and walks towards the dog, giving it all the love and cuddling that I i>should be getting.

It seems to me that the dog smirks knowingly, and I feel like an insect.

"Poor thing..." I hear her say "...you have a very stupid daddy."

"Stupid daddy buys doggie's food." I rummage and she looks up at me, her eyes full of hatred.

"Stupid daddy doesn't have enough funds in his credit card, so pretty mommy cannot buy herself a new fur coat."

I am speechless. I must be gaping, I know it.

"Pretty mommy is very tired of stupid daddy not being a man." She adds.

"Stupid daddy is very manly!" Oh, wait... I was not supposed to call myself stupid. Err...

But her words spite me.

She can waste my money, treat me like a piece of dirt, step on me and insult my career... but she cannot, absolutely not, call me unmanly!

"What?!"

"What you heard."

And I think that brings about a hidden personality in me. I find myself being invaded by an alter-ego that I cannot possibly restrain.

And as he (the manly one) takes over, I see myself almost from outside of my own body again, grabbing my wife by the wrist and shaking her, then dragging her to the bedroom.

I'm gonna show her just how manly I can be. I've been taking classes with one incredibly talented person in bed and NOW is the time to show what a good student I've been.

After all, sex has always been my most remarkable talent. It's a pity I can't get a prize for it, but I really think I should.

I'll teach her. I'll teach her good. All this anger that has been building up in me since I had to go out and sell my butt to get the money for her whims... all this frustration has reached a point in which I feel transformed, I barely recognize myself.

I push her to bed and yell at her to get undressed, and in about no time I'm fighting her in bed (no scratching on my part), probably spitting foam in fury, and having the wildest sex I've ever had... er... well, the wildest I've ever had with a woman.

And even if it lasted no more than ten minutes, it was really wild.

I need a little more practice and I'll make it last for hours, like Gackt does.

Another ten minutes later, everything has settled down. I'm trying to smoke a cigarette, sitting on the floor by the bed while she yells at me, cries and hits me with a magazine.

It's hard to smoke when you are being hit on the head, but I'm not gonna let that intimidate me.

Sex has an illuminating effect on me. My mind goes blank and I suddenly see things more clearly... as if a veil was removed from in front of my eyes and I could finally see the whole picture in striking colors.

As she keeps hitting me, this time with something sturdier (it hurts), I realize Gackt is not such a retard. I understand what he meant by applying a tourniquet.

Stop the bleeding... stop the gushing out of resources... in every aspect. Stop being drained to death by this leech.

The tourniquet Gackt alluded to, the tourniquet I need to apply right now if I want to save my life, my career, my reputation... it's called divorce.

I'm bankrupt, it's not like she will take a lot of money from me if we divorce. I should see a lawyer about it (pity I don't have the money to pay for one) and get through with it right away. Whether she agrees or not.

And after that, I'll have all the sex I want with whoever I want. I'll save up my money and get my personal space back.

I don't need to pay someone to tell me I'm great... there are already hordes of fans that say so. And quite especially, I don't need to financially support a spouse that only loves my bank account.

I'll get my Harry Potter slippers back! New ones! And I'll screw Gackt until my butt falls over!

I crush the cigarette end on the ashtray and I get up, take the book she's hitting me with and throw it away.

Then, just for the sake of goodbye, I jump on her again.

Let's see if I can last fifteen minutes this time.

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