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• Sunflower	By : TalaXRei Category: Beyblade > Het - Male/Female Views: 910 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
  Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade/Bakuten Shuuto, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Beyblade/Bakuten Shuuto and its respective characters are (c) to Takao Aoki. Taissa/Klara/Lucya (c) R. L. Kinghorn.

• Chapter List
  • 1-One
• • 1

• _{I’ve actually used a paragraph from another one of my yet-unpublished Beyblade fictions as the opener here so if you see the same thing posted at a later date, that’s why. I’m lazy, and rainy city scenes are all the same essentially.}

  _{The y'know, sex will happen in the net chapter.}

  ---

   

  Rain. The incessant bullshit, the pollution of industry, the roaring of traffic all around was drowned out by a cascade of icy December rain. The sound was soothing almost. When the light turned green, Tala Ivanov crossed the street, shoulders hunched up about his shoulders in a vain if not pointless attempt to shield his neck from the hundreds of droplets that hit him, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. The snow beneath his feet crunched soundlessly as he stepped up onto the sidewalk and entered the plaza hotel. Its bright lights stung his eyes, a contrast to the darkness of evening outside. The noise of the outside world ceased to exist when he stepped from the revolving glass door and stood in the centre of the expansive, lavish lobby.

   

        He didn’t know what had coerced him to come here. No, genuinely. It was probably the most imbecilic place he could have chosen to go after the shit hit the fan and he was caught—quite literally—with his dick in another woman. Not just any “other woman” either, oh no. His arrogant, bitch-of-a-celebrity wife’s personal assistant. And this is where she was staying, the resplendent Kutuzov Grand Plaza on the East side of Moscow city. It was a fair walk away, Tala had to admit. Klara had been in the penthouse adjacent to Lucya’s but had been unceremoniously ousted following his affair with her being exposed. Not that he was surprised at all.

   

        Hell, why not? By now Lucya surely must have presumed he’d come here when she’d screamed at him to get the fuck out and not come back. The memory caused his lip to twist in distaste. It wasn’t his first choice, naturally, to come here but Taissa had company, and although she wasn’t forthcoming regarding exactly who it was who was staying at her apartment Tala took an educated guess. No. He wasn’t going to crash at his sister’s when Kai was there. No way.

   

        So, Klara it was. Tala crossed the foyer, heading straight for the gilded elevators against the western wall, careful not to stumble and trip on the wet parquet flooring or catch the attention of the hotel staff working behind the reception desk. They were all occupied with checking in a group of rowdy teenagers asking a million and one questions at the same time and handing bags over the counter. Good. Last thing we wanted was for someone to recognise him and go reporting all over social media they’d seen the “famous Beyblader Tala Ivanov checking into Gustro Hotel”. Fans turning up in swarms in hopes to grab an autograph or a photo with him was one thing, but Lucya knowing where he was laying low or even the media press snooping around was another. He thumbed the button on the wall and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. No one. Not even a fucking elevator attendant. Good.

   

        As the art deco dial at the top slowly dropped to the ground floor Tala pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. The rain-flecked screen displayed no new messages or calls. Typical. Lucya was no doubt dying to pick the phone up but the bitch’s pride wouldn’t allow her to cave first. Why did he always manage to pick out the complete psychos? Did he have a magnet attached to his body somewhere that he didn’t know about?

   

        Oh fuck her. He’d deal with her in the morning, he decided, opening up the messages window and scrolling through the contacts list. He needed to clear some of these out, seriously. Half of them were people across the globe he’d met at the last World Tournament who he’d never messaged. Michael, Lee, that chick Judy. He stopped scrolling when the name he was searching for came up. There wasn’t any hesitation. He pressed it and began typing.

   

        I’m downstairs. I’ll be up in five minutes. Let me in. Please.

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