So Klingt Liebe

Machi stared deeply at his reflection. His make up was thick. There was rouge on his cheeks and glitter in his hair. The green room at his high school’s performing arts center was much smaller than the ones he visited in his tours with Lamiroir, but he liked it better. The dingy walls and the lights that surrounded the make up mirrors were half out and the paint on the walls was peeling. There was a comfort in the history of this place.

Machi picked up a tube of lipstick in a shade Daryan would have referred to as ‘fuck me’ red. Watching his own face as a little smile struggled to free itself, Machi drew the patented Gavinners G on the mirror.

And suddenly he was remembering Daryan’s arms.

Daryan sneaks up behind him, slides hands around his waist.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Waiting,” Machi replied to Daryan-in-his-memory. “But not for you. I’m waiting for someone who loves me.”

Machi stared at his reflection and blinked several times. There was no one behind him. The rest of the Christmas Carol cast already stumbled out of their clothes, born giddy and sweaty into the winter air. They were on their way to the cast party. Tonight was closing night. Machi didn’t really feel like tagging along. After the scene at Klavier’s party, he was burnt out on social situations for the next month or two. Too bad he still had Christmas morning with his foster family and Klavier to worry about, not to mention the New Years Ball the prosecutor’s office always threw.

He smoothed out the creases in his flowing white robe. Something about the fabric made him think of his stage costume from long ago, the elegant and fluttering clothes that were Borginian tradition.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Machi rose to answer the door and was greeted by a face full of blue Borginian lilies.

“Klavier,” Machi smiled. “Where did you get these?”

“I was at my wits end, thinking I’d have to fly them in after Lamiroir said they’re your favorite, luckily, the folks at our Borginian café knew a specialty florist.” Klavier placed the bouquet in Machi’s arms. “You are so lovely,” he murmured in quiet awe. “Hold on a moment.” He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and took a picture. “Now you’re my wallpaper.”

“You didn’t,” Machi sighed, looking around for a vase to put the flowers in. In the end he just set them aside on the counter. He preferred Klavier in his arms to flowers, lovely as they were. He pressed his cheek to Klavier’s chest, rubbing make up on it accidentally.

“Tsk,” sighed Klavier, scraping a little of the foundation off Machi’s cheek with a precise thumbnail. “All over my suit.”

“Revenge for taking my picture when my make up is dirty smears and I’m dressed in my play costume. And really, you’ve sent me flowers every night I’ve been on. I’m running out of places to put them and Joella’s getting annoyed. There’s no need, I just wanted to see you.”

“Why haven’t you changed?” Klavier brushed some of the glitter from Machi’s hair.

“I would say I’ve changed quite a bit since you’ve met me,” Machi pointed out. “A lot happens in four years.”

“A lot has happened in this year alone,” Klavier agreed. “But you know that’s not what I meant.”

“But I don’t speak English very well, sir,” Machi snorted, letting go of Klavier to get his coat.

“You’re just going to wear it, then?” Klavier stared at Machi, his expression caught between confusion and amusement.

“Don’t I look like a Christmas tree angel?” Machi spoke sweetly, as if his tone might summon a pair of wings to his back.

“Maybe if you kept the wreath with the candles on your head. You could light the way to the car.” Klavier offered his arm to lead Machi out to the car, but Machi didn’t take it. Instead he threw his arms around Klavier. Pushed him back onto the make up counter, fingers in his newly cropped hair. Klavier didn’t protest because he was not allowed a moment to do so. Instead, Machi kissed him forcefully, filling the space for words with tongue instead.

He withdrew with a sigh and a swipe of his tongue over Klavier’s lips.

“Engel,” Klavier coughed, looking around. “Is this a good idea?” He was attempting stern but the words came out desirous.

“No,” said Machi simply, insinuating himself between Klavier’s legs. He pressed his lips to Klavier’s ear as his hand crept up the inside of his thigh. “I had an idea lately.”

“Oh?” A simple word for a simple movement. Klavier opened his legs a little more to welcome Machi’s weight. Machi repaid the favor by immediately touching Klavier’s stiffening cock. This earned a rather pleasant little noise, an “oh” that was somehow quite different than the first.

“Maybe I should wear this for you Christmas, lights and all.”

Klavier chuckled. The vibrations moved through both their bodies and made Machi smile. “You have some kind of costume fetish, don’t you? This and the skimpy Santa outfit, we could both be dressed up for Christmas. We should wear that to your family Christmas breakfast.”

“I have a lot of different fetishes,” Machi informed him, fingering the zipper of Klavier’s pants. “Costume fetishes, rock star fetishes, older men, public places…”

“You’re just using me for the sex, aren’t you?” Klavier chuckled.

“What sex? We haven’t since that time.” Machi had to look at Klavier’s expression to make sure he didn’t mean his joke. Klavier’s blue eyes sparkled fondly. He gave Machi a soft kiss.

“Does it bother you?” There was vulnerability, a worry creasing Klavier’s brow. Machi tried to kiss it away. “You went off in your head like you do sometimes, I don’t want to lose you, I…”

“Shh.” Machi pressed fingers to Klavier’s lips. “Even if that happens again, I’ll come back to you. I’m working on getting better, did you know? I’m seeing a new therapist; I’m going to group with Mr. Edgeworth… you should come too. We’re healing. We can do this together. We have the support of our family.”

“Ja, ja, it might be a good idea,” said Klavier in a strange voice. “Hasi?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are you finished playing with it? It’s not that I don’t enjoy your touch, but if we continue the lines of this conversation you’ll traumatize me.”

“Ah,” said Machi, glancing down where he’d allowed his hand to idle over Klavier’s crotch. “I’m sorry, I suppose I should stop that.”

“Good,” Klavier breathed, “We can continue at my apa—oh!”

Rather than end his attentions, Machi knelt between Klavier’s legs, unzipped his fly and drew Klavier’s cock out into the cramped air of the green room. He began to give what could only be described as an incredibly enthusiastic blowjob. From the noises he made, he almost seemed to enjoy it more than Klavier. Klavier struggled to find a grip on the counter.

“Hasi, you really shouldn’t, your teachers are around, they’ll kill us if they see this,” Klavier moaned. His own protests fueled the fire. As Machi suspected, risk-taking was a fetish of his as well. “Absolutely… kill us…” Klavier breathed deliciously, his fingers in Machi’s hair. As he quickened pace, those fingers tugged, much to Machi’s delight.

Machi made a noise of protest when Klavier stopped him. He looked up at Klavier, worried. Klavier smiled and stroked his cheek. He offered Machi a hand up, and a kiss to his sticky mouth. Then he pulled Machi around to face the mirror.

“The Gavinners,” Klavier noted the mark on the mirror. “Why?”

“It makes me happy, thinking of the times we made music together. I want to do it again.”

“Soon.” Klavier found the hem of Machi’s robe and pulled it up over his hips. He laughed as he tried to navigate the diaphanous cloth and it kept slipping down. “You’re swimming in this costume,” he complained. “I think I’d like you dressed in something a little less ungainly, like a sugarplum fairy.” Despite his grousing, he went to his business, grasping Machi firmly through his underwear, kissing Machi’s neck and shoulder, chest flat to his back.

“There aren’t any sugarplum fairies in A Christmas Carol,” Machi gasped.

“Just the same, I’d like to see you in something that showed off your body more. You always hide it. Long sleeves, layers… and you’re so lovely, aren’t you?”

“N…no, I’m puny and skinny.” Machi squirmed and scrabbled, upsetting the make up on the table just trying to get steady.

“Nein,” Klavier breathed in his ear. Somehow through bunches of fabric he managed to get the waistband of Machi’s underwear and yank it down just above his knees. Now Machi was free against the soft cloth of his costume with Klavier jerking him in earnest. “You are lovely. And I want you to see yourself while I make love to you.”

Machi remembered their first time, Klavier between his legs in the bathroom, himself reflected. He couldn’t lose himself when he focused on the sight of them. “Is it making love when it’s over a make up counter?” he smirked.

“Hold your robe up, I haven’t enough hands,” said Klavier, ignoring the joke.

Machi pulled up his robe, spreading the extra fabric across the counter. “Hurry, I can’t keep this up, I can’t balance at all – nnh!” Apparently opportunistic, Klavier had lube with him, and didn’t hesitate to use the cold, sticky stuff to prepare. “Next time, warn me!” Machi hissed.

“I thought you said to hurry.” Klavier’s voice matched his fingers: too deliberate, too slow. Savoring. Machi sort of wanted to kill him for how much fun he was having.

“That… oh, fuck, Klavier, that’s it right there fuck…” The skill of Klavier’s fingers destroyed Machi’s annoyance, as well as his ability to speak coherently in English. Though his Borginian wasn’t much more understandable.

Machi watched both their faces as Klavier pushed him deep. Color sprang into his face as he watched himself cry out. Klavier glanced to their reflections occasionally, biting his lips as he took Machi with slow but brutal thrusts, hands on his hips. Then he pressed lips to Machi’s ear and said, “Don’t you see? Don’t you see how beautiful you are?”

“Y-yes, you, me, both, please, Klavier, faster, harder…” Machi whimpered, afraid to let his voice rise. True, the cast was gone but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t around. Speaking more softly just drove him madder; the extra energy he couldn’t express seemed trapped within him, ready to burst in mere moments.

“I could listen to your voice all day,” purred Klavier. Enjoying the urgency, he decided to oblige it, quickening his rhythm. The sheer heat made him curse in German. Both of them muttered in their mother tongues without a single need for translation.

Machi couldn’t stand it any longer. He let go of his robe, letting the cloth billow around their dancing forms. He only barely held himself up on the counter, slipping the other hand to relieve the pointed ache that summed up his needs.

“Look up,” Klavier demanded through gritted teeth. “I want to see. I want you to… nn.”

Machi did as he was bid. He stared wide-eyed at his own face, flushed and wild, glitter falling from his hair. He looked at Klavier watching him, more concerned for Machi’s pleasure than his own hungry. “Tell me you love me,” Machi suddenly said.

“Isn’t that obvious yet?” Klavier panted. His hair was dampened to his forehead, mussed, and Machi wondered if he knew he was loveliest like that.

“Tell me, or else it isn’t making love!”

“I love you. You heard the song, didn’t you?”

Machi nodded. “I’m, I want you to, please, inside of me...”

“I love you,” Klavier whispered and then quickly pushed them somewhere words and language were irrelevant. Both held back, watching the other, waiting for the other. Machi’s willpower gave out first, perhaps betrayed by his youthfulness as his arching tension, exultant expression and tender gasps sent Klavier there immediately.

Knees gave out mere seconds afterwards, though neither was sure if it was the other’s or both.

The sounds of The Ramones “I Wanna Be Sedated” drifted tinny through the room. Klavier cursed and untangled them, opening his phone.

“Herr Wright,” he said, much more cheerful than his pissed off expression granted. “Ja? Ja. Ja. Thank you.”

“I think you broke my ass,” Machi laughed, staggering to his feet to look for his regular clothes. Klavier gave an exhausted chortle.

“We’ve got a little problem, engel.”

“Kleenex?” Machi offered him a box.

Klavier took some. “Herr Wright and Frau Thalassa decided to come see what was taking us so long and got mobbed by a news crew outside the door. Apparently our story’s broken to mainstream now.”

“All things considered, it took them awhile to figure it out.” Machi did his best to clean himself up with what he had before climbing into his jeans, pulling on his turtleneck and Queen T-shirt over that. “Where the hell are my sneakers?”

Klavier didn’t have to clean himself up as much, and was soon much more focused on dabbing away the sweat on his brow and neatening his hair. “If you don’t want to talk to them, I will. I understand how you value your privacy, but we should probably face them head on. They’ve put a lot of effort in trying to film us leaving together, if we try and sneak away we’ll look worse.”

“Found them!”

“Are you listening, hasi?”

“Ja,” said Machi, crouching to tie his shoe. “They’re going to want to know about how we’re always sighted together and all.”

Klavier nodded. “Why don’t I tell them we’re collaborating? That’s a good explanation.”

Machi took off what remained of his make up with cold cream and patted his face clean with tissue. After pulling on his long wool jacket, he picked up the bouquet and smiled at Klavier. “Okay. Let’s do this!” The short walk down the hall seemed to take a silent eternity. Then suddenly they were out in the inky December night, chilled and suddenly not alone.

Klavier was far more used to the flash going off in his face, the reporters with microphones and notepads. Klavier put on his most dazzling smile, wishing he could put an arm around Machi’s waist. He could feel the younger man cowering a little against him.

“Mr. Gavin! Mr. Tobaye! Do you have any comments on rumors of your involvement?” A reporter barked.

“It is true that Herr Tobaye and I have been seeing a lot of each other, but there is an explanation.” Klavier spoke slowly and clearly. “We’re working on a song together.”

The reporters shoved and yelled to get a word in edgewise. “When will it be released?”

“Does this mean a reunion for the Gavinners?”

“What about Daryan Crescend?”

“What sort of song is it?”

Klavier just smiled, allowing his thoughts to catch up to the questions. Machi threw himself in front of him. His smile was a far more sincere one.

“It’s a love song,” said Machi. “It’s not for the Gavinners. It’s something new, for the both of us. Just us.” He held out his free hand. Stunned, Klavier took it. He could hear the movement of lenses in cameras as they zoomed in.

“As for the release date,” Klavier added, “We don’t know just yet.” He squeezed Machi’s hand, completely unaware that his smile had turned from dazzling to shy.

“It’s a work in progress,” Machi explained. “But we’re working our hardest, so please look forward to it!”

Holding Klavier’s hand tightly, Machi didn’t shy or squint in the bright light of the cameras. He guided the older man to Edgeworth’s car, where their friends waited. They climbed in and the car took off to their next destination.

Once in the car, Phoenix couldn’t resist turning around in the seat to tease them:

“You two sure dallied. I hope you used protection.”

“That’s hardly fair, Phoenix,” Edgeworth interjected from the driver’s seat. “You told Machi to take his time because you were busy flirting with the drama teacher.”

“Objection! I was not flirting.”

“You were too,” Thalassa laughed, hitting Phoenix upside the head playfully. It was really more of a tap, but Phoenix played at being very offended and turned around with a sniff.

Thalassa squeezed Machi around the shoulders. “You did well out there, Machi.”

“Thanks, mama.” Machi leaned against her shoulder.

“You’ve done well too, Klavier.” Thalassa reached around to tousle Klavier’s hair. “Your new look really suits you.”

“Thank you. I think so too, even if acquiring it was rather drastic.” Klavier ran fingers through his own hair, doing a peacock pose unconsciously.

“What happened to my Ramones mp3s?” Phoenix whined to Edgeworth from the front seat. He was flipping through the iPod connected to the car stereo system. “Don’t tell me you deleted them.”

“It’s my car and I don’t want that noise playing,” Edgeworth grunted. “Besides, it was taking up space. I wanted to put this lovely version of Turandot Machi gave me on it.”

“You deleted the Ramones for more boring opera? And it’s all Machi’s fault?”

“Puccini is a genius,” said Machi unapologetically.

“I find his melodies to be rather predictable, actually,” said Klavier.

“If you heard this recording you’d feel differently,” Machi insisted.

“Turandot is a flawed masterpiece at best,” Klavier shrugged. “He didn’t even finish it.”

“I must agree with young Machi,” said Edgeworth, “Turandot is one of Puccini’s more complex and certainly most tonally adventurous works, and I think—”

“This stuff puts me to sleep. I can’t believe you deleted my Ramones.” Phoenix sulked.

Machi smiled and snuggled between Klavier and Thalassa. He closed his eyes and listened as the argument descended into laughter and gentle teasing. He listened to the notes of care and affection in the voices of the other passengers, his family. He fell asleep to the sounds of love.

THE END