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Word Count 2614 Genre AU, Fluff, Romance, Slice of life Rating 18+ Disclaimer Mizuki x Sei. sex-stuff. with whips and things. Warnings bdsm, bondage Author's Note don't own DMMD, the characters, just creative license to make things even more gay. honestly? i'm pathetic. thanks. ALSO.... I was tired, and barely capitalised. Summary Mizuki contemplates his life with a princess, and gets a little bit more confidence to improve his relationship with Sei. Power Princess-life. There could be many things attributed to Sei once you got to know him. and he was a hard person to get to know. there seemed to be someone guarding him at all times, always always. Be it the former appointed guards of that old asshole what's-his-face, his brother, his brother’s friend, or the plural of that last one. Sure, Mizuki was close to Aoba and the others, but there was a begrudging sense to the whole formal introduction of Sei Serigaki; twin brother of Aoba, residential prince in treatment. He was a cute guy. Had the same fair skin, the same smile Aoba sported. While Mizuki had been attracted to Aoba first (he had a thing for that bad-boy switch, it was weird) Sei was... well... he was great. Like, just a generally amazing guy. Mizuki never prodded him about what happened to have he and Aoba separated for nearly their whole lives, nor did he press him about the issues he reportedly had. Mizuki treated him how a person should be treated, which seemed the only reasonable thing to do. With Aoba fretting around him (and clearly trying not to show it, despite Mizuki knowing that crease between his brows, the little indent in his forehead that told he was troubled, the casual reminders and suggestions to Sei to maybe eat this, or wow it’s late, isn’t it, you should probably sleep) and the clear lack of a wide social life, sei probably didn’t have a very active… well. anything. So Mizuki did what Mizuki does best-- prompt and listen. the bar was too “seedy” for sei, house was too personal. they met at little coffee shops with cartoon colors, icecream places with machines constantly whirring in the background, forcing their voices to get louder, or their bodies to be closer. sei opened up with a few well-placed questions. he was in continuation school to make up the credits he missed while he was mia, since there was no formal education for him under toue’s shitty guidance. he really enjoyed learning, and his favorite subject so far was literature and a close second had to be biology, because learning about the functions of cells and tissue and all those things was really cool! and he loved loved loved being able to interact with teachers-- his favorite was a professor from america, and his name was mr. davidson, and he taught algebra which was kind of boring, but he made really funny jokes and liked to help him with other subjects almost all the time. he slept with a blankie their grandmother had knit for him since aoba and she had learned that he would be returned to their custody. he didn’t have a favorite stuffed animal, but he had names for almost all of them, and he really enjoyed writing. writing, that was his favorite thing. he’d been creating places in his mind since he could think enough to imagine. mizuki could just sit, with his chin on his fingers, elbows on the table, smiling, all day, just with sei. he really could. serigaki’s voice was enchanting. his eyes had a way of squinting when he giggled. seeing the other man happy made mizuki happy. butterflies became acid monsters and even catching a glimpse of the bus that dropped him off, or the sound of the door opening to a shop he sat at while he waited for the other made mizuki’s insides churn, his body flushing hot. it was the first time he made sei laugh that he knew he was a goner. the pureness of it. unrestrained, knocking sei back like a self-inflicted blow. the man squirmed and shouted and tears ran down his face and he clapped his hands together and cried out and mizuki’s heart doubled, bells clanging in his head- wedding bells, the toll of death of **** he didn’t even know, he really didn’t. it was just wow, how could he begin to describe it? the memory stuck with him, followed him. unpleasant in its reminders that he had fallen for a guy he had no chance with probably (and on those days, it was like gum on the bottom of new boots) and lifting in its image, laughter replaying and smile so bright (and on those days, it was like a candy, just one, in his pocket, that he would unwrap and unwrap again, and savor) sei’s innocence and thirst for new experiences, his wise eyes and vitality, his unadulterated appreciation for the life he lived mizuki would sit and just think about him. not sexually, or even romantically. just his image. reflect on the feelings his name even provoked in him. he made a drink, a nice cocktail, refreshing and simple, with this lasting tang and sweeping refreshness, and thought that it perfectly described sei’s sweetness and double-sided sly cleverness. he got drunk on it. on him. every encounter was intoxicating he needed like never before. like it ripped him a little at the seams everytime sei hugged him and said his goodbyes. like the others scent was honestly the only thing he needed to keep him content. his warmth inspired a coldness when it abandoned him. mizuki felt like he was going balls to the wall bonkers. but then he realized only months into talking, nearly a year, that he didn’t even know sei that well. he knew sei at his best. he knew sei at his happy and content and excited and flabbergasted. but he’d never seen him grumpy, mad, pissy, or strained. he never saw the dark. and he knew there was a dark. in the corner of sei’s eyes, it lingered, mimicking color but it was a distinctive patch of secrets and sorrows. it came out after that first year. sei cried in front of him and hated himself for it. he could see the anger welling up, broken-hearted in its form and he complained as he sobbed, ‘god i don’t want to DO THIS in front of you’ but the emphasis spoke so many volumes. sei didn’t like to be held when he cried-- he said, later on, that arms felt like cages, and the underlying controlling ticked him off. his emotions were his own. mizuki wasn’t rebuffed when he was shoved away and settled with only handing over tissues to the curled figure on his couch. he made note to avoid animated movies featuring death at that detail. later on, he showed a streak of really profound passive-aggressiveness. he would smile and nod but the tone twisted into something berating, at times, the shortness of his answers stabs in their own way. apologies always followed (in massive quantities) but mizuki was stunned at the level of-- well, the moments that sei could truly be that dark. but he found that he wasn’t deterred, but attracted all the more. maybe that darkness called out to something in him. mizuki was scared of how easily he reasoned it, accepted it. how his perceptions shaped and bent to accommodate the new information, like elastic. time passed. interests were expressed, on both ends. their lips touched in the fall, mizuki remembers nothing about the day or the time, just the feeling and just sei. it never occurred to him that sei could initiate something so physical, leaning up with a hand outstretched and pressing his mouth to mizuki’s. it didn’t feel like anything but confirmation and invitation and plans. sei pulled away before he could even react, smiling and departing on his bus to yonder with obliviousness to mizukii’s stunned form. time passed. they sat down and did that again. multiple times they kissed, pecks on cheeks, on noses, on lips, shoulders, thighs, ass-- everywhere. sei slowly opens up. he likes things to be fun and sweet, even when they’re more on the eyebrow-raiser end, but mizuki is compliant after conversation. sei likes bows around his cock, preferably a nice pink, and wearing garter and hose underneath his typical jeans and shirt. he likes panties to be soft and hold him nicely. it upgrades. mizuki finds that sei likes to have control and likes a subject under him to be happy with it. his previous discomfort was a slap to sei’s face, a source of sadness. he learned to embrace things-- slowly. there was one day where sei was away from the apartment with aoba and ren, and he picked up the thin collar that he knew sei kept stuffed away in his underwear drawer. it had been a source of shame. to be collared- like some fool, like an object or dog. it didn’t pleasure him. sei had cried when he saw how god damned forced it was. he chewed his lip and slowly tested the stretch. fondled the tongue, observed the quality. he put it on, throat bobbing as he looked at himself in the mirror. there was a hook… right there, where sei would attatch the long chain, gripped lightly in his hand. and mizuki would be on the floor, on his knees, cock between his legs. he could imagine it. lips slick with spit and cum, sei smiling down at him with praises. eyes lidded, puffing quietly. that love in his eyes. the affection. mizuki hated being weak. he didn’t like positions where he couldn’t understand things. but his mind perceived that love. looking at himself, in the mirror, hand on the collar, eyes staring back at him, he made a pledge to revel in his own weakness. it was a pledge that was hard to really carry out, and he saw that sei struggled with a leading hand as well. they helped one another. mizuki kissed his feet, lavished him in affection, did his bidding. he kept his head bent, eyes lowered, until sei told him to “look” and he did. they went to stores to browse the right kind of rope, experimented with toys and denial systems. sei would strap him down and ride him happily, mizuki learning not to thrust, not to protest, just to feel and obey and smother groans and whimpers as sei’s hands stroked his chest, the sound of slapping skin and his grunts of effort, whispered words cutting through hazy pleasure. the goal was to work up to the collar. mizuki’s neck was a sensitive place when it came to things like restriction. the bandages he’d had in the hospital that time back were uncomfortable and harsh even then. but he found he was becoming more comfortable. his body was becoming used to playing the subservient role-- but when had it not been? sei was enrapturing like any classic royal figure, divine in all his fables and stories, a masterpiece, breathtaking in person. mizuki was gotten before he even played the chase. the third year was when he finally did it. mizuki was on his knees, ass cushioned by his feet, hands in his lap, bare. the chain on his collar was yanked and he raised his head to look at sei, his cock erect, eyes lidded as he looked down. in the lighting of the room, his eyes glittered and his pale skin was entirely too enticing. mizuki straightened his back as sei gently put a hand behind his head, bringing him closer. everything about the man was beguiling-- mizuki couldn’t help but keep falling in love over and over again, heart pounding hard as he parted his lips to take sei’s arousal into his mouth. sei pet his hair, cooing and stuttering gasps as the red-head sucked on the head gently, pulling away to press gentle kisses along the sides. his erection had been slow to rise but there was something about licking up the length of his lover’s cock, hearing the appreciative noises that incited a fire. flushed and heavily aroused, mizuki’s mouth trailed down, eyes looking up for sei’s nodded confirmation before he licked at the underside of his sac. the sensitivity ran rampant in special places mizuki found only on exploration. the buckling of sei’s knees confirmed it followed by a shallow thrust. he took one ball into his mouth, sucking gently before pulling away to trail a tongue up up up to the head and down, sharply, as he took sei’s erection into his mouth. mizuki’s head bobbed slowly as he adjusted. but everything quickly became familiar. sei was at the stage where he desperately tried to hold on. his stamina was never the best but mizuki never paid much mind. he liked it. long fingers twisted in red hair and mizuki held his head in position as sei, ever so gently, ****ed his mouth. the moans that fell sei’s open mouth, lips pink and black hair sticking to forehead, neck, god. it was heavenly. mizuki would have come undone there if it hadn’t been for a (very cute) cockring. every pull-back, the tanned man would let his teeth drag along the skin just slightly, sei’s hisses and giggles caught between groans tugging the urge to smile. the quiet was pierced by those moans. mizuki rumbled low in his throat, saliva sticking to his lips, smeared now as sei gasped and babbled-- his voice hitched, a tightening and mizuki kept his eyes open to watch the veins in his neck pop, watch his eyes squeeze shut, watch lips work wordlessly, soundlessly. watching the orgasm wash through sei was debatably better than tasting it. he was always a little salty, a little bland. mizuki wouldn’t trade it for anything but seeing sei’s body work through an orgasm…. that was a sight. he pulled away only when he was allowed, swallowed and licked his lips and grinned when sei giggled breathlessly behind his hand. “you’re so cute.” “yeah, well.” mizuki kissed his thigh. “you’re beautiful.” sei giggled again and tugged his chain to have mizuki stand. wrapping his arms around him, he led the other to the bed, falling with him. a hand, stark contrast to the red-head’s skin, wrapped around an aching erection and lightly stroked. mizuki nuzzled the other in return, not moving himself, barely rocking into it as he just enjoyed the sensations. breath stirring the strands of sei’s hair, he closed his eyes and shuddered. sei tilted his head up to kiss the other’s nose- who was notably becoming a mess of grunts and shivers. his body tensed and shook. (mizuki seemed unaware that the sentiment of watching and appreciating a lover’s pleasure was equally shared, if not felt even at greater lengths, by sei. he drinked in mizuki’s vulnerability, loved and adored his truthfulness and openness at these times and the ones before. it absorbed his mind, just admiring the details in how mizuki’s mouth lifted into a smile as he exhaled his enjoyment, the writhing, collarbones impactful in image as his body seemed to curl from itself--) he slid the cockring off, fingers squeezing as they pushed up from below. mizuki looked into his eyes, drooling. he wants to bury his face in that slim, pale neck, cum and groan without being seen. but he opens himself, sei’s hand bringing him to a neat finish as he bucks his hips once and cums. fifteen minutes later, Mizuki sat up in bed, sei’s head in his lap and the tv turned on to one of those trashy reality shows. “i’m not cleaning up the stain this time.” “mizu.” “i’m not. it’s barely even there. you got most of it.” “you’re so dirty.” “says sei, the bringer of whips and chains.” at that, sei chortles, slapping his thigh and mizuki thinks about how lucky he is to love and be loved in return. they both wince at the inevitable weave tug. ouch.