Don don dododon

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 12:54:50 GMT

Title: Path of moonlight
Recipient: Mel
Pairing/Characters: Bane, Ryou
Rating: G
Warnings: Realism?
Disclaimer: PoT is c. Konomi-sensei, this fic is just for fun.
Summary: Kurobane contemplates change. Ryou helps. Cuteness and an elegiac feel. Middle school boys are in middle school.
Notes: Thanks to Mandii (for the starting scenario) and K8 (for the troubleshooting).

I wrote this one for Rokkaku-chu!

( You read my mind. I'll brace the top if you give it a good shove. )

Fic: The Book of the Bardo

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 16:00:34 GMT

Title: The Book of the Bardo
Characters: Sid, a little John, two OCs, and a bunch of cats.
Disclaimer: Knockin' on Heaven's Door is c. Laurabryannan
Rating: PG
A/N: How to explain this?

A very good friend of mine has been working on an original yaoi story named Knockin' on Heaven's Door. Laurabryannan is known for her Samurai Champloo fic, which are deathly hot and good and sad and happy and meaningful, and this fic is more of the same plus her very own. [Read Knockin' on Heaven's Door here!]

I found that I was inspired to write a fanfic for it, and asked Laura if she wouldn't mind...She said to go for it, so, erm, here it is.

Five minutes. Sid looked at his watch, staring up at the overpass. He rarely undertook such activities personally, preferring to help from a distance, but this one was going to be rather large. With any luck it would help change the underpinnings of society, from the construction of roads to the ways in which bodies were disposed of, but he remained a little wearily skeptical. The wheel turned, it was all one, the flickers of shapes around him were merely borrowing their moment of incarnation before burrowing back into the blessed darkness from which they'd all come. All parts of himself...parts of himself...

One little part of himself was squatting on the road next to a stray kitten. She had a scrap of her lunch in her hands. An open lunchbox lay next to her scrawny schoolgirl ankles. "Please," she was saying softly, when Sid managed to get his focus back on the here and now, "Please eat."

The cat was not pretty. It was scarred by many battles, and raised a lip in a little snarl. The cat's ribs showed, though, and Sid shook his head, eternally amused that people should choose such small battles to fight when the city teamed with equally starving, equally unhappy animals.

"See? It's good." She took a nibble, then held it out again. Sid studied the bit of food -- it was probably all she had for the day (ah, yes, it was), and his brow furrowed. What was she doing, giving her food away? She'd starve herself, for the sake of this cat. Except...

Ah yes, she was one of the fallen, taken for her moment of compassion to this cat. Sid could already see her spirit emerging, following the incessant droning of the Tibetan monks toward the pathway to the light. Everything was here, now, then, forever, and he turned to walk on.

"Please. I know it ain't much, cat, but you need to keep strong to keep fighting," she said steadily, and put the scrap down in front of the cat. Sid turned to look back, watching the cat sniff suspiciously and then take the morsel in its mouth. The girl smiled at it, and very gently reached out to touch a battle-torn ear.

No. Sid knew. He felt the tremor begin through his feet and sighed. No! It was her compassion that did him in, her perfect embodiment of The Way. It was ridiculous to be so rewarded, one of those completely meaningless acts of universal indifference that had Sid remembering his own upbringing in a city near this, so long ago.

In another second he was at her side, scooping up the cat in one arm, the girl in the other.

"What the -- GURU -- put me down --" The girl struggled, the cat struggled, but Sid held tight as he hurried away.

"We need to move out from under the overpass," he explained in a low voice, exerting a bit of his universal calm until the two in his arms slowed their struggles. "See. There's an earthquake coming. That overpass will fall, and you were right beneath it." In back of him he heard a roll of thunder from the earth itself as the plates shifted. Such an uncertain world they lived on, made so clear by the very construction of the planet itself. Sid began to feel the spirits crying out to him, asking direction. He sent out a spare thought and herded them toward the chanting. The Tibetans really were a god-send, sometimes, with their incessant and gentle directions.

O nobly-born, when thy body and mind were separating, thou must have experienced a glimpse of the Pure Truth, subtle, sparkling, bright, dazzling, glorious, and radiantly awesome, in appearance like a mirage moving across a landscape in spring-time in one continuous stream of vibrations.

"Earthquake? Guru, why are you saving me? Go tell everyone -- go -- somehow -- save them all -- PLEASE --" Tears were in her eyes, and Sid felt a wash of understanding.

"I know...I know...It never ceases hurting," he said, and before he knew it he was placing a kiss to her hair. They were a few blocks away now, and finally he set her down. He stood still for a moment, watching the waves of his intervention ripple and touch different events...change the order of things. Not too much would alter, but from what he could see, none of it was ill. He frowned, seeing one particular ripple... "What's your name, child?"

"Priti," she said resignedly. "What's yours, Guru? Why me? Why not ..." Her eyes sought the bridge in the distance, widening in a stricken way as she saw it buckle.

"Ah. Shakyamuni," Sid said, and then frowned. Now that he'd come this far, he had to take the final step. He put his hand on her head and let the chanting of the monks swell in his mind -- they were a background noise to him, forever in his ears -- and let some of the oblivion seep into her.

Priti's eyes went slack for a moment, and then her expression turned dazed. Sid put the cat into her arms, a cat that had turned docile by Sid's touch. "You fed a cat today. Priti, may your compassion continue to carry you far. Now, go back home. School is cancelled."

Dazed still, Priti turned, cat in her arms to walk away.

~

The years spun like the fragile webs of spiders as Sid walked through the world. There was much to accomplish, especially when his Western friends got on various jags and crusades and interventions -- they were much more likely to head off on grand adventures than he was. India, with all of its ridiculous beauty, held Sid bound fast. He did not forget Priti -- he could not. He watched her, a thread of a life that solidified into something more real than he'd felt in an age.

Priti became a scrappy girl, hyper-aware of the horrible pun of her name, which in local patois meant both pretty and love. Pretty she was not. She was too thin, too boyish, forever scraped and bruised by her incessant battles. She was truly his ex-wife's opposite in so many ways, but Sid had moved beyond a mere appreciation for the female form. Priti's light grew and grew...

As a teen, she turned her house into a haven for animals, heckling and shaming her community into aiding her. Soon, before her twenties had begun, she'd established an animal shelter and was studying veterinary medicine. In young womanhood she was lithe and spare with a strong face that was far too serious until she smiled. Sid blessed her progress; the city needed such a place like the parched Thar needed water. Somehow, bureaucracy untangled for her, animals found her, and people jealous of her success felt their envy melt away when they observed her compassion.

Sid felt just a little smug that he'd aided this girl. Clearly he'd been in the right to do so, she was an angel upon earth.

Then one day, Priti took on another doctor. Sid was simply grateful at first, on Priti's behalf. Priti needed a friend, and needed help for her practice much more than that. The new doctor was a lovely young woman who reminded him much more of his ex, from the fall of her long brown locks to the graceful flow of her sari as she bent to calm an unhappy animal.

A month later, peeking into the practice, Sid noticed that Priti seemed different. She was behaving...almost nervous, jumping whenever Tejal touched her, staring at her sideways with eyes wide. Sid almost smacked himself on the forehead when he finally figured it out. Of course... Of course. He should've known, a girl so seemingly pure and uninterested in the temptations of the Bardo had to have at least one weakness. Sid felt wryly amused that her weakness seemed to mirror his own. There was a certain form, a certain bend of the arm, jingle of ankle jewelry, that did it for him every time, and Tejal definitely had that in spades.

Sid didn't admit to himself that he was jealous. He was above that. Far above that.

~

...Sid knew he needed help when he found his gaze entering the little shared room that night. During the weeks leading up to this, many things had happened. The little touches had turned into a bashful kiss, the sweetness of which had stung him more than a thousand unwarranted deaths. The problem was that he couldn't stop watching, and for two weeks India shuffled on without him as he planted himself under a tree and let his consciousness linger on two women.

"Tejal...please," Priti said quietly, expression bright as she sat at the table, bowl of forgotten curry in front of her.

Tejal's eyes slid sideways, her own expression saucy. "No. You're too serious. You need to enjoy life more." Tejal's sari slid a little ways off her shoulder, down her arm. Priti reached out to straighten it, and somehow her hands found themselves lingering upon the skin, thumb feeling the wonder of a defined collarbone.

"It's my skin."

"So very soft."

"That isn't my softest part."

Sid shook his head at the blatant line, but found his mouth dry as he watched what followed. His stomach tensed, his body felt a surge of hormonal impulse that he swore he'd left behind a century ago. All of that and a dark sense of pain... Priti had grown up, and moved beyond him to a place where he couldn't go.

They traced each other's bodies with kisses, that night, Tejal's hair falling over Priti's body like a silken blanket. Softly, fumbling with each other, giggling, exploring, they worked out ways to give each other joy. Hearing Tejal's name on Priti's lips, Sid finally turned his gaze away, body sore from arousal, mind aching from distress. ... How long had it been? It would have been easy to meditate and distract himself...but instead Sid leaned against the comforting familiarity of the Bo tree and slid his hand into his loose pyjama. It had been a century since he'd done this... But in the end it was just like riding a bicycle.

~

"What's up? I hate to say it, but this really isn't like you at all, Sid."

They sat at a smoke shop in Morocco, neutral territory, Islamic land. John looked as polished and cheerful as always, and Sid looked and felt like a mess. He took a long draw of the smoke, feeling from afar the tingles of relaxation ease through his corporeal body, trying to pin down his feelings. He offered the smoking spigot to John, who took it and puffed once before pausing to cough.

"Strong stuff..."

"It's simply tobacco."

"I've never known you to indulge..."

"I've fallen from The Way a bit lately." Sid scrubbed his eyes, scratched the fur that he'd allowed to grow on his body's chin. It was ridiculous.

"I can see that." John's voice was compassionate as always. "Care to tell me about it, since I've come all this way?"

Taking a deep breath, Sid told him about the little girl he'd saved, the one that grew up into a fine young woman...who loved another woman.

John's face was grave by the end of it. "Oh my. You've got it bad."

Sid's face dropped to his hands. "It was...she was so kind."

"On the upside, you won't have long to mourn, relatively speaking." John's arm went around Sid, and Sid found himself leaning on the other man's shoulder, his own body shaking as he remembered the pain of attachment, yet again, yet again.

"That's no upside at all," Sid grumbled, and sighed as John held him close. There was something to be said for heavenly beneficence -- John hugged very well.

"Want advice?"

"No."

"...Go talk to her. Have your moment. Enjoy being with her, if only for an hour or two. You've been holding yourself apart, I can tell..."

"But. I wouldn't have a chance."

John looked at him, one of those looks that made Sid shift a bit guiltily. "Honestly. Did you want one?"

~

Years passed. Many years. Sid watched the partnership closely and made sure that it wasn't disturbed by anyone. Homophobic parents were gently shown the beauty of their daughters' love, and social barriers were pushed ever so slightly awry so that the two could share a bliss that was rare for same-sex couples in India. That was his last gift -- his wedding present, more or less. It made him happy that Tejal and Priti were more than worth the meddling.

Sid kept John's words in mind, however, and chose a moment. The moment was truly a selfish one, Sid admitted to himself, but given the long span of years Priti had been blessed with, perhaps he could be forgiven.

She was in her seventies, bent by time, face worn and creased and set into comfortable lines. Tejal had been gone for a year, now -- much mourned, not forgotten. Sid appeared at the edge of Priti's vision, walked toward her and taking on a more and more corporeal form until he crouched to pick up a cat from the throng at her feet.

"Still feeding cats," Sid said with a smile, looking up at her. Priti's beauty still glowed from her eyes, and his heart caught in his throat.

She stared at him as if caught in a memory. "I think I remember you," she said slowly. "But you were from a childhood dream. The day that the bridge fell..."

Sid stood, covered by kittens. They'd never liked him as a young man, but now they swarmed around him as if to a warm patch of sun. "Sometimes there is a fine line between dreams and reality, Priti. I am honored to see you again. You have lived a fine life."

"Lived," Priti murmured, face creasing for a moment in distress. Then, gradually, her expression melted into acceptance, and she looked steadily at Sid again. "Guru. I am honored to see you, am I not?"

Ah, he'd been recognized. Sid smiled a little, lopsided. "Perhaps we'll just feel honored to be with each other, eh? Sit with me for a moment. It's...your time is near."

Priti nodded and found a bench, sighing as several cats vied for the pleasure of her lap. She petted them all, looking remarkably peaceful. "I've enjoyed this life. I've lived it well."

"You did. I am proud of you and all that you have done."

"Have you seen it all, Guru?" Priti chuckled. "What must you think of me..."

Sid shifted, smiling a little. "Ah, I think nothing but good." Sid leaned sideways and kissed her hair, as he had when she was a girl. His arm went around her and held her close...

The stroke was swift, and Sid made sure it was peaceful and painless. One more moment of clarity in her eyes, and Priti smiled at him.

"Thank you."

O nobly-born, the time hath now come for thee to seek the Path. Thy breathing is about to cease. Thy guru hath set thee face to face before with the Clear Light; and now thou art about to experience it in its Reality, and the naked, spotless intellect is like unto a transparent vacuum without circumference or centre.

At this moment, know thou thyself; and abide in that state. I, too, at this time, am setting thee face to face.

~

Sid denied that he would seek out the baby the morning it was born, but only until he heard the crying from the hospital and was there in a heartbeat.

It was a boy with Priti's eyes, and Sid cast his eyes wryly up to the heavens, cursing in eight different languages. He wasn't about to wait for another incarnation.

Perhaps John could provide some insight into THIS particular wrinkle.

~

...

Sat, 09 May 2009 21:21:18 GMT

Title: The Five Princesses and the Robot Prince
Author: PrincessPink (Alba)
Rating: PG for violence
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Characters: Five OC moon princesses (*cough* we'll work on the marysue thing in a few years)
A/N: This is my daughter PrincessPink's first fanfiction (she is four years old, and told this story to me). *snuffle* I'm so proud.

Once upon a time there were five princesses: Princess Alba, Princess Charlotta, Princess Charlotte, Princess Addy, and Princess Mara.

One day, a bad fairy came and tried to get us to eat a bad, yucky, poison apple. We didn't like it, so we didn't eat it. Good thing, yeah? But the bad fairy FORCED me to eat it by snatching my pink skirt and my white cat. Then I ate it!

The bad prince came and turned all of the princesses into statues, but I turned into the Moon Princess! He tried to defeat me and bited my arm with his sharp teeth. I discovered that he was a robot!

But I defeated him with my crystal crown.

"MAGIC MOON CROWN ILLUMINATION!" I yelled, and turned him into moondust. I turned the princesses back out of statues, and we went home and had a big party.

The End.

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 15:42:30 GMT

Title: Sunset
Characters: Chiquita (Tachibana and Chitose)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine
A/N: Written for the kink meme, and I tried for a romantic vibe for this 'un.

Sunset. Tachibana watched it with one eye from the top bleachers of the stadium, staring down as darkness rolled over Nationals. He ached, but damned if he was going to miss this match -- Yukimura vs. Ryoma, and the court was burning with fire. Suddenly he felt a presence behind him, and without needing to turn around he knew who it was. "Senri."

"Kippei."

Chitose clambered down to sit beside him, and for a long moment there was nothing but silence. It felt as if they'd spoken all that needed to be said. Then, a little awkwardly, Chitose drew an arm up over Tachibana's shoulders and tugged him close, lips brushing in the barest kiss next to his good eye. "Idiot."

"Screw you," Tachibana replied, chuckling, and watched the match point. "Shit, I think Ryoma's actually going to..."

"Win," They both said softly, and watched in silence as everything went still. Tachibana looked at the expression on Yukimura's face and sighed. He knew that moment so well -- defeat, so profound you could feel it in your soul.

"Hey, idiot," Chitose said, prodding his side. "Next week, come visit, okay?"

Tachibana smiled, wincing when it pulled his bandage. Of course he would. He'd already been planning to.

*

Sunset over the ocean, and a different kind of quiet. There was no tennis here, except for the game that the gulls played with the surf. There was sand under his bottom, sand under his hands, sand in his hair. "Now I understand your hairstyle," he chuckled, staring up at Chitose.

"Screw you," Chitose said in return, grinning and squatting, a lanky shape obscuring the sun.

"You're blocking my view." Tachibana tried to scoot away. It had been a long, tiring day of surfing and playing on the shore, and his body ached from using all kinds of muscles that never came into play during tennis.

"Maybe I want to," Chitose said, and Tachibana's eyes were suddenly caught by the gleam in Chitose's. Soon it would be night, dark out there, nothing on the lonely stretch of sand except for the two of them. "How's the eye?"

"Not bad." Tachibana touched it cautiously. "Feels fine today."

"Oh yeah?" Suddenly Chitose was much closer, and Tachibana felt the heat of Chitose's body against his, skin prickling. Then, Chitose touched the skin near his eye, but not with his fingers. With his tongue...

The surge of danger, the surge of heat... "Senri..." Tachibana gasped, flinching just a little, only to have his head caught by a strong hand and held in place.

"I've wanted to kiss it and make it better for a long time," Chitose said, and Tachibana felt himself tugged, lowered, to the sand. Then, the most amazing feeling, a tongue gently stroking the tender skin near his eye, lips on it...lovingly kissing all over it, searing it with little touches until Tachibana felt it in his groin.

"Fuck," Tachibana said, shifting. Hard-ons were uncomfortable in the sand, in swim trunks.

"Chill out," Chitose growled, and then their lips met, and a hand settled over his dick, making his back arch in surprise.

"S-senri?"

"Shhhhh." Chitose kissed Tachibana slowly, and Tachibana felt his whole body sing with something, maybe satiation -- he hadn't even known he'd wanted this until Chitose gave it to him. The weight of Chitose's lips, his tongue like a slowly-moving brand of fire against Tachibana's tongue, the hand over his soft swim-trunks...it all drew out an unexpected wave of sensation that had him moaning.

Chitose ate up the moans, moving his hand like he'd always known how to jerk Tachibana off...moving his body in a slow wave against Tachibana's until Tachibana finally shook free of the grip to his hair and turned on his side.

He swallowed, pulling back to meet Chitose's eyes. "What are we doing?" Tachibana asked quietly, breath going faster.

"Playing tennis," Chitose said with another growl, and gripped Tachibana's hips, tugging them flush so that hard-on met hard-on through the fabric of their shorts. "Kippei..." Chitose groaned.

Then their mouths met again, and it was wilder, Tachibana letting go of his control, the inner beast snarling for release as he rolled Chitose to his back, tongue and lips and teeth eating Chitose's mouth with a hot desire.

Chitose gripped Tachibana's hips with his long fingers and held them together so that every move and push and rock made their erections collide, fire build, pressure mount...

Night fell with a sudden darkening, no dusk at all out on the sea. Tachibana's fingers gripped Chitose's hip so hard that he left marks, and Chitose's mouth was on his neck, biting until pain rose to mingle with the pleasure.

"NNNhhh...Senri..." Tachibana cried out, and it was like tennis, like the intense moment in their match when they were both at their best, bodies somehow in harmony even while battling. Then, in the darkness of the night, feeling sand grit and scratch his knees, the burn took them both and Tachibana felt Chitose come with him...fire on the dark sand.

*

Sunset over Fudomine. Kamio on one side, Shinji on the other, sitting on the worn-out old benches by the court.

"Your mind seems kinda far away, buchou."

"What? Oh...yeah, Akira. Sorry. I was just..."

"He was thinking about the guy who gave him that ginormous love bite. No, all of them," Shinji snorted, poking at the seven bites ringing Tachibana's neck.

Tachibana smiled, touching the ring of marks. "...I was thinking about the sunset."

Mon, 13 Apr 2009 02:36:34 GMT

Title: Smoke and biting
Characters: Chiquita (Tachibana and Chitose)
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine
A/N: Written for the anon kink meme. Once a year, it seems, I write Chiquita drug sex for the kink meme (last year's is here). I wanted this one to be different, and I was completely stumped for a few days before asking K8 for a prompt. Make Tachibana be the one pushing the drugs, K8 suggested. And the bunny grew swiftly from there...

So yeah, drug-use warning..

The first time Tachibana fucked himself with his fingers, it burned as much as getting a ball in the eye. That, in turn, made him think of Chitose, and he came like a punch to the gut, all the air rushing out of him, biting his lip so he wouldn't cry out.

The second time, two fingers wasn't enough, so he jammed three up there, holding his arm over his eyes and feeling the hard burn like the best tennis match, adrenaline and pain bringing him over while he choked out Senri against his arm.

There wasn't a third time. The first two had left him shaken, and to make himself STOP thinking about it, he turned to drugs.

"Hey, try speed," Kamio suggested, brow furrowing, arm around his buchou. "I mean. That's what I take before dancing all weekend. I wouldn't be able to sneak out of the house, stay up all night, and get back in time to be a good kid otherwise."

"Bad, Akira, very bad," Tachibana said, glaring at him.

"Ehehe...I mean...well," Kamio hurriedly corrected himself. "Um. How about pot?"

"Hm. You might enjoy that," Shinji said, frowning from around an end of hair between his lips. Tachibana absently reached over and removed it, giving him a Tsk for splitting his ends. "You'd enjoy that because it would slow down your mind from these 'nightmares' you've been having. Plus, if they're related to Chitose, some pot might help you understand him. After all, isn't he totally stoned most of the time?"

"...No," Tachibana said shortly, thwapping Shinji's wrist as he tried to bite his hair again. "He's actually pretty sober. Meditates a lot. I'm the bad boy of the two of us."

Two sets of eyes were on him. "I bet," Kamio said, and somehow it sounded appreciative. Tachibana stepped away uncomfortably. Sometimes having his own kabuki chorus was a little weird.

"You two go ... practice," he muttered.

"Hey, I'll hook you up," Shinji offered, and after a moment, a small hesitation, Tachibana found himself nodding. Anything, anything to keep himself from pushing bigger and bigger objects up his ass while imagining what Chitose might feel like.

*

A few days later Shinji met him behind the school and Tachibana shook his head at how much it felt like some kind of idiotic drug deal. Oh wait, it was one. He took the joint and hid it carefully down among his dirty socks and jock strap in his practice bag, and headed home before his sister and parents could get there.

Then he closed his room door, rolling up shirts to stop the smoke from emerging, and then lit some of the hippie-dippy candle shit that Miyuki had given him for his birthday, and cautiously stared at the joint. It was...hm, thicker than your usual cigarette. And it smelled weird. He lit it, mustering all of his suavity, and took a small puff. ...Not bad...

Then he coughed up half a lung.

The second puff he let sit in his cheeks a bit longer before sucking it down his throat, and the puff after that he let linger around his tongue, rolling it down in a gulp that felt gooood after a while, a puddle of heat that sank into him and eased out all of the tension in his balls, his legs, his brain. Ahhhhh...damn, it...all almost made sense. Half the joint later and Tachibana was smiling at how stupid the world was, and himself in particular.

After he was done smoking the joint he masturbated lazily, one arm behind his head, eyes out the window, hand on his dick and a highlighter pen stuck up his ass.

Of course, that's when the phone rang.

"Uh..." Tachibana chuckled at the universal ... what was it called again ... that word Chitose used... "Symbiosis? Synergy? Syn..."

"What? Uh...You okay, Kippei?" Chitose's voice was strangely worried.

"Mmmmmm...hm." Tachibana said with a little growl. He kept his hand on his dick, other hand on the phone. "How's it going, dear?"

"...Dear? Kippei, have you been...smokin' stuff?"

"Maybe," Tachibana said, and put the phone on speaker, setting it beside himself. He wasn't going to let Chitose ruin a good stoned orgasm. He brought a hand down between his legs to move the highlighter pen in a little thrust, pinching the tip of his cock a little too hard, gasping.

"I...uhhh...are you sick? What's...should I call An?"

"NO - !"

"No...it's...Senri, you fucker, you just called at a ... ummmm ... emotional time in this ... movie."

"Bullshit," Chitose snorted, voice incredulous. "So what are you on?"

You, you fucker, Tachibana wanted to say with a huge giggle, but instead he just let the thought go, leaning back on his pillow and jacking himself off, letting his breath go swiftly. Who cared, anyway. He was just one small guy in a huge, huge universe so full of light and life and ... peace, man.

"...Kippei, are you...jacking off?" Chitose's voice was suddenly darker and thicker, breathier.

"Of course...nnnnnhhhh...not," Tachibana laughed, and moaned, taking out the pen and putting his fingers up there again. He had the wrong angle for it but his fingers were long enough to jab his prostate if he fucked himself hard enough.

"I'm calling back when you're sober, idiot," Chitose said, and then there was a dial tone.

Tachibana laughed until he came, which was so hard he felt himself choke, breath restricted, eyes going dark. Then he rolled over and slept more soundly than he had in months, and only woke up to An's knock on his bedroom door.

"Baka Kippei-nii, it's time for dinner. I held off mom and dad as long as I could. Can you at least pretend to be sick?" An called into the room.

*

The next day, Tachibana received no less than seven text messages, all from Chitose (with the exception of one from Shinji, asking how it was). He finally called back later that night, lying in bed again after deciding that pot should only be used sparingly (he'd had a bad dehydration headache all day, and his ass hurt during practice, which wasn't precisely the fault of the pot).

"Sorry, why'd you call last night? I was in a ... mood."

"What. Were. You. On?"

"Oh. I smoked a joint." Then, I fucked myself and thought of you...

"Oh." There was silence for a while, and then Chitose cleared his throat. "I kinda want to try it with you, sometime. Maybe when...uh...if...I come down and visit?"

They both had a little sister issue, but An was much more mature about giving space than Miyuki was, despite An's constant quest for a 'date' with Kippei. It wasn't anything personal, Tachibana knew. It was all about carefully calculating her image...

"Yeah, I'd like that." Suddenly, Tachibana's pants felt tighter, and he found himself grinning. "Come on down."

*

They stared at each other over the incense.

"Now the trick," Tachibana said, lighting up, "is to make sure it's wet enough. It doesn't have a filter like normal cigs, so you've got to roll it around your mouth until it gets all wet."

"Roll...eh? What do you mean?"

"Here, I'll show you." Tachibana took a drag and waited, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel before he inhaled the rest of the way. Chitose giggled and Tachibana thwapped his arm.

Then he handed over the joint, waiting patiently while Chitose took a drag, then handed him water after he coughed. Tachibana's hand lingered on Chitose. "You okay, man?"

"Mmf, I see what you ~cough~ mean," Chitose said, leaning forward until his head was near Tachibana's. Chitose took another puff and then held the joint to Tachibana's lips. Somehow, Chitose's fingers remained while Tachibana took a puff, and their eyes met in a long look while Tachibana inhaled. The smoke eased the bit of worry inside of Tachibana, softening the fear, unlocking the 'beast' that Fuji said was within him...

"Purr," Tachibana giggled. The beast was kind of in its happy place.

"...What?" Chitose giggled back, and gave Tachibana a playful tickle.

Tachibana sucked in his breath at the touch and gripped Chitose's wrists. "You know how you called the other night?"

"Yeah," Chitose said, eyes going half-lidded as he took another drag.

"I was jacking off."

"Oh, sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's cool. I was thinking about you when I did it."

The silence stretched this time, Chitose's eyes on his, smoke between them like a soft blue veil. Tachibana reached over to get the joint and their hands met. He brought Chitose's hand to his mouth and took a drag of the joint, and then kissed Chitose's knuckles.

Chitose's eyes were wide on his. "Owww -- fuck," he mumbled, joint tumbling out of his fingers to land hot-side down on the hole in his pants.

Tachibana laughed, picked up the joint and ashed it. Then his fingers ran over the hole, gently soothing the burn.

"Now what?" Chitose's voice was husky, then he laughed. "Oh wait. I know."

Chitose leaned forward and kissed Tachibana. It tasted like smoke and made Tachibana moan. He opened up his mouth and would've felt embarrassed at the utterly whorish desire that flooded through him, but he didn't. The pot had dulled it to a small sheepish ache. Chitose's tongue slid into his mouth readily, however, and soon they were locked in an awkward boyish clench with their hands fisted into each other's shirts.

They ended up with Tachibana tugging Chitose over him, way too many limbs splayed across a too-small bed. Chitose rolled over and knocked Tachibana's head into the wall, and the pain was enough to make Tachibana gasp and throb in his pants.

Chitose pulled back and stared at him, shaking his head. "Pain. You're into...pain."

"You aren't?"

Their gaze held for a long moment and then they were at each other, teeth and nails out this time while they kissed, bodies shoving and pushing and gripping with their need.

They didn't even take their clothes off, just shoved hands down each other's pants, and Tachibana swore while Chitose's long fingers slid roughly up and down his dick.

"Please...Senri...bite me," Tachibana begged, and Chitose's eyes went wide and incredulous for a moment before he nodded. He leaned in, took a bit of Tachibana's neck between his teeth, and bit the fuck out of it while their hands clenched. About three seconds later Tachibana bit Chitose's shoulder so he wouldn't scream while he came.

Chitose must've gotten off on it too -- come was everywhere.

After that they both sat up shakily, edging away from each other just a little. Tachibana picked up the end of the joint and lit it back up, taking a meditative puff, avoiding Chitose's eyes.

"Um," Chitose said, and moved his knuckles up to touch the livid red marks on Tachibana's neck.

Tachibana hissed a little and pressed into the touch, finally meeting Chitose's eyes. Chitose looked amused and a little curious, and Tachibana blushed.

"I definitely want to find out more about...pot," Chitose said, and leaned in to share Tachibana's drag in a slow kiss.

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 21:49:15 GMT

Title: Antics at the Shitenhouji Invitational Costume Party
Characters: Baka pair
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine
A/N: Written for the anon kink meme :p

It was a tight fit, but Koharu knew it suited his slender waistline and great legs. The pert little hat even covered his marginally interesting hair, and Koharu knew he had a statistically significant chance to get Yuuji's pants off. Yuuji was going to be at the yearly Shitenhouji Invitational Costume Party at exactly 10PM, so at 10:05 Koharu strutted his way down the hallway toward the auditorium with a walk that rivaled pachinko parlor hookers.

There he was, Hitouji-sensei, looking serious in his suit and lab coat. Yuuji had a briefcase in one hand and a stethoscope around his neck, and from the way he turned away it seemed that he STILL wasn't talking to Koharu. Koharu sighed, thinking that sometimes dating a gorgeous, smart, jealous boy like Yuuji was hard work.

Koharu tidied up his garter and simpered on into the room, spotting Yuuji in one corner pointedly talking up a tall, muscle-bound guy in a spandex superhero suit (was that Momoshiro from Seigaku?). Unfair! He paused at the doorway for dramatic effect, knowing that with the length of his skirt everyone was going to turn and look at him. "Good evening!" He said dramatically, willing Yuuji to turn and look.

Yuuji kept stonily turned away, but someone beside him smiled tentatively. Ooh, who was that? Kaidoh Kaoru of Seigaku, dressed up like a gypsy. Nice. Feeling a tiny thrill of something, Koharu pranced in Kaidoh's direction, swinging his nurse's kit in one hand, the other on his tightly-girdled hip. "Why hello there, Kaidoh-kun," he trilled, and draped an arm around Kaidoh's neck.

Suddenly he felt a prickling in the back of his neck. Koharu shivered a little, but ignored it to grin at the slight flush across the gypsy's cheek. "And how have you been? I LOOOVE what you've done with that little link belt..." Koharu's hand crept down to feel the little silver links around Kiadoh's waist while the other guy stuttered out a hello.

Then, he felt a strong hand grip his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Yuuji hissed, eyes behind the fake frames of his doctor glasses gleaming with danger.

"I--ahh---er..." Oh, so sexy. That was part of why Koharu did it, for the thrill of this moment.

Kaidoh stepped awaaaay from the drama. "Senpai-tachi," he muttered out in his low voice, and fled toward the rest of Seigaku, who were mostly huddled together watching Shitenhouji warily.

"You scared him away," Koharu pouted, lips drawn into a perfect red cupid's bow.

"You. Are coming with me," Yuuji said sternly, gripping Koharu's hand. "It's time for your performance review, Nurse Konjiki, and you've been slipping in your tasks."

Koharu swallowed, feeling a little tingle of pleasure in his crotch. Damn, he couldn't get hard while wearing that thong or he'd never untangle himself.

"Why would I do that, Hitouji-sensei?" Koharu breathed, slipping into their mingled world of fantasy and reality. "You haven't so much as spoken to me in weeks!"

"Come with me," Yuuji smirked, tugging Koharu down the hall. Indeed, they ended up at the school nurse's office, and Yuuji turned on the bright fluorescents to flood the room with cold, impersonal light. "Do you really need me to explain why?" Yuuji's eyes flashed again with that cold light, and Koharu felt his stomach flutter.

"Ohhhh, Hitouji-sensei, please don't make me explain myself," he said breathlessly, hopping up onto the raised cot.

Yuuji sat in the rolling chair of the school nurse and moved himself forward until he was between Koharu's legs. He leaned forward. "You were naughty. I caught you feeling up the patients, don't you remember? I think you need a reminder of your place," Yuuji said sternly. He pushed up his glasses, licking his lips.

"However can I make it up to you?" Koharu asked, getting a little harder in his skirt. He gave Yuuji a long look that crawled all over his body, from his neatly polished shoes to his stethoscope. Yuuji looked edible.

"First, Nurse Konjiki, you need to pull up your skirt and lie on your stomach. I believe you deserve a spanking."

"Oh -- not that, please," Koharu begged, biting his lip. A second later his skirt was around his hips, flashing his little white garters and thong. He lay back on the cot and rolled over, ass all bare to the bright lights.

"Why does it take this to make you obedient?" Yuuji growled, and raised his hand. A second later Koharu was moaning, erection squished against the cot while his bottom was seared with hard smack after hard smack. After ten, he knew his rear was a nice rosy color, and his cock was aching. He whimpered.

"That doesn't feel like enough," Yuuji said thoughtfully, and Koharu heard the sound of unzipping.

"Noooo," Koharu moaned, "Not a blowjob. Please, respect my dignity Konjiki-sensei."

"Get on your knees and suck my cock," Yuuji said, voice calm and cold.

"No," Koharu gasped, and got right to his knees, leaning in. He took a moment to inhale Yuuji's warm scent -- it had been a few weeks, and damn he'd missed it. Then he pushed down the cute little tighty-whities and leaned in, embracing Yuuji's nice hard tip with his lips.

"Don't go too quickly," Yuuji warned, tugging Koharu's little puffed sleeve. "And stick your bottom out where I can see it."

Koharu did as told, sliding up his skirt to let his thong and the curves of his rear show. Then he leaned down and slowly suckled, a little at a time, feeling the ache in his jaw as he applied pressure and force...he'd already gotten the data on exactly what it would take to make Yuuji come, so he teased around it, sucking almost but not quite hard enough. He snuck one hand down to his trapped penis, wondering how much of a hard-ass Yuuji would be about it...then he felt the thwap on his arm and stopped, sighing. Oh well, this scene was hot and he'd totally masturbate all night thinking about it.

Then they heard footsteps coming down the hall, and Yuuji reached out to flip off the lights.

"Too late, senpai, I saw you," Zaizen said dryly. "Don't mind me, just getting a band-aid."

Koharu couldn't even remove his mouth, Yuuji's hand was in his hair holding his head down with that famous racket grip. "Mmmf," he protested, feeling a surge of shame and heat flood through him.

"Thanks. Oshitari-senpai cut himself on the cheese plate knife," Zaizen snorted, turning to go.

"He looked unimpressed," Yuuji said, tugging Koharu's hair. "Try harder."

Koharu went nuts. He moaned again, feeling a surge of sensation that made him drip in his panties. His mouth slid down, eating more and more cock until it grazed the gag point. He couldn't deep-throat, but he was mighty close to eating all of Yuuji's erection. Easing back a little he fucked Yuuji with his mouth, and finally Yuuji broke, gasping and moving his hips in a sensuous little wriggle.

Oh, Koharu was so getting his penis into that wriggle...tomorrow, if his atonement went well.

Then, Yuuji gripped him by both ears and came hard, keeping in character enough to remain silent. Then, gasping... "NNhh...Nice job, Nurse Konjiki. You've almost passed your performance review." Yuuji stared down, and Koharu gave him a wary look through his false lashes.

"Now wipe the lipstick off my cock," Yuuji growled, "And then we'll be moving to the cot for further corrective measures..."

shortfic.

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 23:39:28 GMT

Title: In our old age
Characters: Fuji, Oshitari, their respective children
Rating: PG
A/N: This shortfic is written in honor of a very dubious anniversary (three years worth of Prince of Tennis roleplaying). It stars Oshitari, my first muse, and the first muse he bonked, Fuji. :D ♥ to the old OT5.

[For those of you who are also on Nozomi's LJ, ahahahhaa memories (f-locked).]

Oshitari sat back in his rocker, looking out at the children playing in the yard. They were about fourteen, his children and Fuji's. They'd both started late -- now they were in their mid-40s, and Oshitari was feeling his age as the sound of laughter came from the yard. "Ichigo," he called down to his oldest son, "Don't play dirty games. Hands off Kunimitsu." For some reason, that was the name of Fuji's first son. He'd never been able to figure that one out.

Fuji, looking the same as he did when he was fourteen (somehow), was flipping fish on the grill next to Oshitari. He glanced up inscrutably at the yard, shrugging a bit. "Boys will be boys," Fuji said lightly.

Oshitari smiled. "Or at least, our boys will be just like us, I reckon." He sighed and sipped at his beer. "How's Sakuno-chan?"

Fuji's smile went a little wider. "Pregnant," he chuckled, and Oshitari shook his head, laughing.

"Isn't that child four? You two never stop." Oshitari and his wife had stopped at two, figuring they wouldn't be greedy.

"I need to make a whole tennis team," Fuji said, smirking just a little. "As long as Sakuno agrees..."

Somehow, Oshitari was pretty sure Sakuno wasn't up for that, but he could see it -- "Team Tensai," he chuckled. "Damn. They'd be unbeatable. Where is she tonight, anyway?"

"Visiting an old friend." Ryoma had blown into town on a promotional tour, and Sakuno and Ryoma were visiting her grandmother in her assisted care center. Or so Sakuno had told Fuji... "How's Oshitari-san?" Fuji asked in turn, dishing fish onto a plate. The fillets looked spicy, and Oshitari could tell the marinade had wasabi in it.

"She's fine," Oshitari said. "Still working nights." He sighed, feeling a bit worried. She and Gakuto were close...they worked the same shift at the hospital, and Oshitari was always vaguely suspicious that they were having an affair. "I've been relegated to childcare, and we see each other for about an hour between jobs." It kinda sucked. Oshitari had even taken to digging out the old porn collection he'd had in junior high.

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that," Fuji said, turning and setting Oshitari's plate next to him. Behind him, there was a yelp and a slap.

"Ichigo, up here on the bench for ten minutes," Oshitari growled, his voice filling the yard. "What did I say about grabbing people's bottoms?"

"Only do it if they want it," Ichigo sighed. "I swore Kuni wanted it...but then he slapped me..."

Young love. Oshitari felt a twinge of sympathy in his gut. The Fuji family was always tough to read. "Always err on the side of caution, my son," he said gently.

Ichigo sat sulkily on the bench and Fuji brought him a plate of food. "Here you go. You can use your time wisely and eat while you sit," Fuji said, sitting beside him.

"He's really cute, Fuji-san," Ichigo blurted out.

Fuji stared down at his son fondly. He had long, long dark hair, all plaited up into a tail down his back. "Mm. He is, isn't he. Takes after his mommy except for his eyes." Which were narrow, vaguely merry, and entirely unreadable.

"D-do you know whether or not he likes me?"

"Saa... We don't tell our secrets, you know." Fuji patted Ichigo's shoulder. Not much subtlety to this one, kind of like his 'smooth' father. "If he slapped you, it's a sign he's paying attention, though. Try to beat him at tennis, that'll probably get him worked up."

"Don't encourage him," Oshitari chuckled, eating the fish and diving for water.

Fuji just smiled. "So, it seems that both our wives are busy later. We should watch our old matches."

Their eyes sort of met, and Oshitari's throat was suddenly dry. "If you don't mind stayin' late, Fuji."

"Of course not," Fuji murmured. "Of course not..."

~

Original fic part three :p

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 20:25:48 GMT

Title: Back of the House (part II) (Part I is here) (Part II is here)
Author: Me
Disclaimer: None. Cause, well, this is an original fic.
Rating: NC17
Note: Back to Joe's POV. In which there is plot along with the smut.

This happens a few weeks after the last few posts.

*

Joe stared down at the plate in his hand. The plating was all awry. Not hasty or badly done, in fact, it was much more aesthetically pleasing this way. It simply wasn't regulation. Beef to the right, potatoes to the left, not potatoes circling beef. The first time, Joe simply got a glove and reorganized. The second time, Joe started to wonder whether he should talk to the cook responsible, knowing with a sinking feeling that it was Monkut. The third time, Joe caught the expediter's sleeve. Kris shot him a scowl.

"Hey. What the hell are you doing letting this go out?" Joe pointed to the arrangement of the plate.

"Um...Hey, Marni said to let the new boy do whatever he wanted to," Kris shrugged, and Joe knew with a grim realization that it went beyond just plating. Shit was going on back in the kitchen. Next smoke break, he'd ask Monkut about it.

Joe quietly rearranged the plate again, peeking through the window into the kitchen. Monkut was cooking furiously, sleeves pushed up to his shoulders, cap neatly in place, apron already looking like he'd been through a slaughterhouse from all the sauce. His mise en place was perfect, though, and Joe couldn't fault his technique as he easily kept four meals heated and organized on the burners. He even had grace while he did it, a concentration that erupted into snarls if it was broken, much like any other cook Joe knew. Joe felt warmth in his gut as he stared at Monkut, cut off by Kris's face looking at him through the window.

"Yes?"

Joe winked at him and took the plate, turning to deliver it. Everyone except for the managers were aware that he and Monkut were an item. Monkut didn't bother to hide it, and sometimes they showed up together for their shifts. For the most part they both worked closing, and it was simply easier on certain days for Monkut to spend the night at Joe's house so that they could commute in together. It had been stupidly easy to fall into this pattern, partly because their chemistry had gotten better, if anything, and Joe found it difficult to keep his hands off of Monkut after their shift was over.

It was Friday, and they'd actually planned a date for later that night, which was part of why Joe didn't wanna get into plating, but he knew he had to. Someone was going to bust Monkut eventually, and he needed to nip it in the bud.

*

"I need to bum one," Monkut said, sighing as he stretched out his tendons.

"Trade you for a kiss," Joe said, side-stepping into the little alleyway between the back of the restaurant and the garbage bins. It was dark, people probably couldn't see them from the parking lot of the strip mall, but Joe knew that it was bad form to make out at your place of employment.

"No," Monkut snorted, holding out his hand. Then, after Joe gave him his best wounded-puppy look, Monkut sighed and stepped after him. Even if they weren't at work, Monkut wasn't great about PDAs. He'd explained it was a Thai thing, which (after some internet research) Joe realized was true. Even straight people didn't hang on each other in public in Thailand, even though Joe wanted to tug the smaller guy close whenever they went out to a bar.

Joe made the kiss soft but quick and gave Monkut a cigarette. Then he cleared his throat, trying to figure out a way to ask... He puffed on his own cigarette for a moment.

"Hey, how've you been getting along with Marni?"

Monkut looked immediately troubled. "...I have something to ask you about that, but I wanna wait until we get to your place," he said.

Sounded serious. Joe nodded, taking a long, soothing drag of his cigarette. He let out the puff of air and tried to disconnect a little. Monkut's job was his own, ultimately. It was just tough to see his lover earn his stripes. "Hey, your plating is all wrong. I had to redo it a few times."

"You're joking." Monkut stared at him. "Marni told me I was doing fine."

Oh boy. "He's fucking with you. Ask Kris to show you when you get back."

"Fuck," Monkut sighed. "I guess he saw me..."

Joe didn't ask what Monkut meant, but rubbed the smaller guy's tight shoulders instead. "We'll talk later."

*

They were in a jazz club in Hoboken. A sax player was blowing, a guy that Joe vaguely remembered from high school. He was short and cute and Joe couldn't recall whether or not he'd groped him at a party.

Monkut elbowed him. "Hey. Checking him out?" His eyes had that sardonic cast again.

"Yep," Joe said. "I think I gave him a handjob in tenth grade."

"Man, I didn't know what a penis was in tenth grade. I was a good boy up until I went to Poughkeepsie."

"You made up for lost time, though, didn't you." Joe's hand strayed over to hold Monkut's, then took it back, remembering not to. His family was physically affectionate, it was a tough habit to break.

They were in a corner surrounded by empty bottles of cheap beer. Monkut rubbed at his tendons, and Joe gave in to his impulse. He caught one of Monkut's hands, turning it over. There was a fresh new burn on the palm.

"Ouch?"

"Nah. My hands are totally asbestos nowadays." Monkut shrugged. Their knees touched under the table and Joe felt the warmth from Monkut's body shiver up his leg.

"So what happened today?"

"I think I saw Marni stealing. Today wasn't the first time, but I think...I think he knew I saw him."

"Wait. Stealing how?"

Monkut sighed, slumping down in his chair. "Stealing as in, he was taking some pretty damned expensive ingredients out of the pantry and slipping them into his lunch cooler."

Joe wasn't sure what to say. That kind of stuff didn't even register as stealing, for him, especially considering his father's line of work. "Did you talk to him about it?"

"No, but...I think...I probably gave him this look." Monkut did an impression of himself, eyes wide and disbelieving. "It's weird to me that he'd just...I mean, doesn't he worry about his job?"

Joe shifted around uncomfortably. For some reason, Monkut was letting Joe keep his hand on Monkut's arm, so Joe rubbed it gently, stroking up the tendons with his thumb. "I don't actually see a problem with that. It's not like Marni's getting paid bank, and the corporation can replace it."

Eyebrow twitch. "That's still stealing. Still wrong."

"Says you. You don't have to support a family on your earnings like he does. Can you imagine how much it must suck? Hell, I get money from my parents all the time. I couldn't live on my own without it."

Joe watched the stage, and Monkut out of the corner of his eye. He could tell some hard thinking was going down, because Monkut picked his beer label to shreds. Finally the other guy shrugged. "Okay, you're right. It isn't my business."

"You'd better let Marni know you think so, somehow, so that he stops making your life worse."

"You think that's what's going on?"

"Yeah. Hope it isn't too late."

Then, uncharacteristically, Monkut rested his head on Joe's shoulder for a moment, and Joe felt his stomach flip over. He put his hand into Monkut's hair and gently rubbed it until the smaller guy pulled away.

"I think I'm tired," Monkut said.

"We can go back to my place."

*

Monkut got naked immediately, turning to give Joe an unreadable glance over his shoulder as he shooed the cat away from Joe's bed and clambered on. Joe made haste to undress too, hanging his pants and shirt over a chair and then sitting beside Monkut. He gave that perfect ass a swat. "You sure you just wanna sleep?"

"Hey. I'm not as much of a horn dog as you are." Monkut grinned and shifted around, pressing his growing erection against the bed. A hand snaked between his legs and tugged the end of his dick, and Monkut gasped.

"You just flashed your ass at me. If this is truly a national characteristic, I'm totally moving to Thailand."

Monkut turned to his back, hiding his ass. "You have a total fetish."

"Oh...yeah. But now I have these." Joe dropped his head to kiss Monkut, hand straying up to a nipple. Before long he had Monkut exactly where he loved him, tugging his hair and lifting his torso up off the bed to chase his touch. Monkut's body was as lean and muscled and pretty as Joe had hoped, pecks hard under Joe's thumb. He was also completely hairless except for a furry dark thatch at his crotch. Joe was itching to trim it -- maybe in the future.

"Tomorrow's Sunday." Joe lifted his head to look at Monkut. "You don't work, right? neither do I. Wanna come to Sunday brunch with my family?"

Monkut stared at him. "What, as your asian girlfriend?" Those eyes had that slightly wary look in them again, and Joe poked his stomach.

"As my hot new boyfriend." Joe watched and thought he saw Monkut's eyes turn soft for a second.

"That's an upgrade from 'fucktoy,'" Monkut said, reaching down to tweak Joe's admittedly large nose. "Awright. Will I like the food?"

"Ask that again and I'll feel insulted for my family," Joe said, teeth sinking into a nipple.

"AAhhh...fine. I'll be glad to go."

Joe rewarded Monkut for that with long, loving sucks and licks to those two hard nipples. He didn't let up until Monkut's cock was leaking against his stomach, and then he trailed his tongue down to meet the drops of liquid as they fell. He pinched Monkut when he heard him protesting for a condom. "I don't have any cold sores, and I doubt you're diseased." He sank his mouth down, and soon Monkut made different, better noises. At least he hadn't insisted upon a shower first.

Joe loved making Monkut completely forget himself. The guy was fierce and often tightly wound, and each suck turned him into a quivering, gasping puddle on the bed. Soon Monkut tensed, warning Joe about his orgasm with a tug to his hair, and Joe lifted back, pinching the base of his cock hard.

"Ah, fuck, shit, let me come," Monkut groaned, tugging the lobe of Joe's ear.

"Not yet." Monkut's cock was flagging a little, so Joe brought his mouth back down and sucked it back to hardness, then played, rubbing spit into his balls, flicking his tongue over the top, pushing the foreskin down with his lips to roll his tongue all over the gland. Then, just as Joe felt the thickening and tensing in his mouth, he pulled up again.

"Fuuuuuck..." Monkut tugged Joe's hair. "You bastard. Let me come. Please..." His eyes were dark and his cheeks were flushed, hips rising up off the bed.

"Maybe," Joe chuckled, and sank back down. This time he brought lubricant with him, and while his mouth teased Monkut's cock, his fingers pushed deep inside that ass, feeling the muscles clamp around his knuckles. "Mmhhh..." Joe got him ready with careful but firm pushes, gently licking the sides of Monkut's erection until he was swearing again.

"You have a potty mouth," Joe teased, and sat up. "Wanna use it for something better?" He handed Monkut a condom.

"Fucker," Monkut glared at him, but ripped the condom open, setting it on Joe's dick and leaning over to roll it down with a firm pressure of his lips.

"Ohhh...yeah," Joe pulled away and rubbed lube all over it, and watched with growing heat as Monkut rolled over and stuck his ass up in the air. "Christ. I'm going to nail you to the bed." This was, hands-down, Joe's favorite position of all time, especially when his lover had an ass like that.

"Quit yapping and fuck me then."

"Right." Joe was in him in short order, staring down and watching as his cock sank between the perfectly round and muscled cheeks that took him in to the hilt. Then his nails dug into Monkut's stomach and he breathed another "Fuck" into Monkut's ear. Then nothing but hard breathing for a moment as they moved together at an increasingly rapid pace.

Monkut came first, his groan loud and wordless, head arching back to hit Joe's shoulder.

"MMmhhhh..." Joe let loose, digging in hard until the deep wet heat made his cock throb, his balls tight, all his nerves sing. Cursing, he came too, feeling himself empty out into the condom...into Monkut's perfect ass.

"Potty mouth."

"Shut the fuck up."

"I should wash your mouth out with soap."

"You're ruining the afterglow, damnit."

"We could just fuck again," Monkut suggested.

"I thought you were tired." Joe was, but he kissed a line of sweat off Monkut's neck, then licked the nape.

"Keep moving..."

They fucked again at a more leisurely pace, pausing midway to change condoms and positions so that they were facing each other, mouth to mouth, sinking into deep, long kisses, Monkut's legs wrapped around Joe's waist, arms around his torso, nails digging into his back. After a slow rocking that seemed to take forever and no time at all, Monkut came in a wordless groan against their stomachs, and Joe followed shortly after.

"What, no witty banter this time?" Joe asked, kissing another line of sweat.

He felt Monkut's nose press against his hair, and then heard a little sniff.

"Eh? What was that?"

"Oh." Monkut sounded embarrassed. "It's...it's how Thai people kiss. Like this." He nuzzled Joe with his nose and snuffled.

Joe died. That was probably the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "Like this?" He picked a good spot and snuffled too.

"Yeah." The arms around him clenched, held him tight.

*

They woke up at a quarter to noon with Joe yelling "Shiiiiiit! We're late!"

"Oh, fuck. Lovely first impression."

After the fastest shower on earth, they both made it to the DiOrio abode with three minutes to spare.

"I hope you were at church," Angela DiOrio said, leveling a disapproving look at her son.

"You know I don't do that any more, ma. Anyway. This is Monkut Shinawatra, the cook I was telling you about."

(To be continued!)

Original fic part two :p

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 02:01:35 GMT

Title: Back of the House (part II) (Part I is here)
Author: Me
Disclaimer: None. Cause, well, this is an original fic.
Rating: NC17
Note: So... This part is from Monkut's point of view, and it is mostly The Smut. There will be moar plot after this.

*

Suddenly, despite any voices inside of himself to the contrary, Monkut found himself straddling Joe's lap, fingers running through the silky almost-curls that fell to Joe's shoulders, tongue pressing in to eat up Joe's mouth. They were breathing hard on each other, and their breath wasn't all that was hard. Monkut gasped when Joe's hand cupped his crotch, snorting a little when Joe's other hand clung to Monkut's ass like he'd never felt one up before.

Monkut had resisted Joe all day. Sort of. He'd felt instant distrust when he first set eyes on the guy. Someone with that kind of pretty wasn't trustworthy -- he was tall, muscular, achingly handsome, and had a brain, to boot. The only confusing thing was why the guy was waiting tables and not doing more with himself, and Monkut figured it had to be due to some kind of flaw in his character. Then, Joe had given him the kind of deep look that couldn't be mistaken, one that Monkut felt all the way down to his toes. Now, tongue sliding down tongue, hips pumping into Joe's hand, all of the distrust was pushed somewhere far away in favor of a more pressing urge.

Favor, returned. Monkut's hand snapped open the button to Joe's stupidly well-fitting pants, feeling self-conscious yet again about his cook's clothing. He still stank from cooking all day, with an added layer of the deeply-ingrained cigarette odor of the bar, but from the way Joe was nuzzling into his neck, the guy didn't seem to mind.

"God I love your ass," Joe was mumbling into his skin, and two hands were now massaging it, kneeding, pressing.

"Touch but no fucking," Monkut snorted, biting Joe's ear. "I'm not cleaned up."

Joe chuckled again, sounding smug and amused as if he was weighing Monkut's words and deciding whether or not to heed them, and Monkut hated him for a second for being so goddamned perfect. "I want your shirt off," Joe said. "I've been thinking about your body all shift."

It was really nothing compared to the muscles on Joe but Monkut let him take his shirt off, then sat back, eyes rolling a little as Joe stared.

"Oh fuck," Joe panted, eyes getting hotter, and suddenly there were teeth on Monkut's neck and fingers all over his nipples.

"Ahhh..." Monkut shoved their crotches together, rubbing hard while Joe took him apart pinch by pinch. He loooved nipple play, always had. Joe knew what he was doing, alternating hard little jolts of pain with soft teasing rubs that had him aching for more.

"You like that," Joe said, and Monkut felt his back shoved to the couch. He stared up, watching Joe's tongue and lips rub all over his nipple, and forgave Joe for being cute and Italian and way too self-assured. The hair brushing over his skin felt like heaven, and soon Monkut had his legs wrapped around Joe's torso, grinding up.

"Fuck, you're as pretty as I thought you'd be." Joe's voice was low and caressed all around Monkut's ears. He reached down into the warmth of Joe's pants, tugging his dick free. It felt good in his hand and he shifted his grip around until Joe was shoving into his palm. Joe pulled him out of his pants too, and Monkut's brain went to an urgent wordless place, listening to the sounds of the traffic, the cat meowing from the bedroom, and their mingled grunts as their hands stroked cock in tandem. They weren't doing anything special, but Monkut felt a deep shiver in his body that wouldn't go away. Dirty or not, he wanted to fuck.

Monkut came first under the assault of Joe's tongue and hand, and Joe soon after. Monkut felt him thicken, and then come joined the sauce that splattered all over his cook's pants. "I'll have to wash these," he sighed.

"I have a washing machine," Joe chuckled. "You like being clean, don't you?"

"It's a Thai thing," Monkut agreed, his breath still erratic as he lay with Joe's head pillowed on his chest.

"I loooove your nipples. I wanna play with these while we fuck."

"What makes you think we're going to do that?"

Joe laughed again and Monkut thwapped his butt. "Am I wrong?"

"We both shower. Then you do my laundry while I clean my butt for you, jerk," Monkut growled, and he felt Joe smile against his chest, the tiniest kiss on his nipple.

"It's totally a deal."

*

The shower was long and hot. Joe kept kissing him, hands all over Monkut's butt, as if he couldn't stop. Monkut didn't mind. Joe's body was deathly sexy, lean in the hip and broad in the shoulder, and he was fucking tall. Joe stooped to trap Monkut's back against the cold tile, and water washed warm between their mouths.

Finally he shoved Joe out. "Go wash our clothes," he snorted.

Joe gave him another hungry glance, from Monkut's short-cropped hair down to his toes, and Monkut shook his head. "Go, you!" He was a little shy about this part, and hated people watching, although his lovers had told him it was arousing. Whatever, it was cleaning up his ass. As soon as Joe left he did a thorough job of it with soap and a finger, and found he was anticipating more. Joe had left him a towel on the toilet seat, and he dried off, tying it around his waist as he padded in the direction of the washing machine.

Joe was standing in front of it naked, and the second he saw Monkut he started to get hard too. Monkut couldn't take his eyes away from the thickening length until Joe's smug expression made him turn his gaze elsewhere. "You totally separated the white," Monkut said, vaguely impressed. Come to think of it, the house was pretty clean for a single guy in his 20s.

"Well yeah," Joe chuckled. Monkut felt hands around his hips, and the towel fell as Joe lifted him to sit on the washing machine.

"What?" Joe was staring at his penis.

"You're not cut."

"Oh. Yeah. Not a Thai custom, I guess. I was born in Bangkok." Monkut's face was red.

"It's cool. I didn't notice before." Joe's fingers toyed with the foreskin, pushing it down, then up to cover the top of his growing erection.

"Uhhhn...yeah, it ... feels really nice when you do that." Monkut's fingers did the same, sliding around the cut edge of Joe's erection that was sitting neatly against his stomach. "I wondered how big you were, about ten minutes after we met," he admitted, appreciating the view.

"I saw." Joe gave him a smirk that was so smug that Monkut reached up and twisted his nipples. "Ow - hey," Joe said, and with a shift of his arms, Monkut's knees were up against his chest. "So, you're all clean, right? I'm going to inspect."

The worst thing about rimming was how damned embarrassed Monkut got. He loved the feeling -- who didn't -- but it was his butt. Joe was making noises as if he loved this, though, and Monkut squirmed against the tongue on his anus, biting his knee to keep from making embarrassing grunts.

"You seriously have the nicest ass I've ever seen," Joe murmured from below his balls, and Monkut heard the pop of the lube bottle opening. Then Joe rose and Monkut wrinkled his nose as he got kissed. At least he was clean...two fingers eased into his butt, and Monkut began breathing hard, tugging Joe's hair as he stared into eyes that had a deep besottedness in their depths. Joe leaned down and bit Monkut's nipple, his free hand toying with foreskin again, making Monkut pant out swear words at the sting and pleasure...

"I think you're ready."

"I know you're ready," Monkut snerked. He curled up his torso and helped roll the condom down over Joe's dick. He licked his lips, staring at it, and then caught Joe's eyes. Nothing smug in them this time, just heat and a small bit of softness. Monkut leaned up and kissed him, keeping his knees up, scooting down far enough that Joe could get to his ass.

Then, with his back against the washer and his hips dangling, Joe's cock pressed slowly into him. Monkut started to sweat, feeling the sting and slide as his muscles closed around Joe. Then he panted out a "Yes, go, move," and they moved. Joe's expression melted to bliss, jaw setting in a way that made Monkut snicker even as he got fucked. Ahh, Joe needed control already eh? Score one for the Thai boy.

Joe's dick was almost too much, but he took it all in, over and over, hand down between them to grip his own cock and jerk off while the deep ache inside of himself got filled by that long, perfect cock. Joe held him up by the rear and slammed in him, gaze meeting gaze... It was so weirdly personal that Monkut blushed. It was as if he could see every sensation that crossed Joe's mind... Then they shifted angles and Monkut cried out, thoughts blotting out, nerves aching at the firey sensation from his prostate. He yelled something wordless when he came, feeling the wet splash across his nice clean stomach. Then he watched as Joe's neck arched, tendons standing out while Joe shot inside of him.

Shining with sweat, Joe looked like some kind of deity. Then, his eyes opened with that same soft expression, even after he'd come.

"Back hurts," Monkut chuckled. "Can we move to the bed, or is that just for the cat?"

"Oh. I got impatient," Joe chuckled and slid out of him, removing the condom and tossing it away. Then he reached for Monkut, stopping at the glare.

"Do not dare bridal carry me. I am a man, despite being short, and I will kick your ass."

"Yes, sir." They headed to Joe's bedroom, and Monkut settled against the sheets. Joe climbed up over him, then lay himself down over him, leaning in for a kiss. Monkut usually wasn't big on kissing after getting rimmed, but at least he'd showered, and Joe had given him a great time, so...

They made out for a long time, hands all over each other, cocks hardening up enough for a last lazy handjob. Then Monkut fell asleep, not even bothering to wipe up the come on his belly.

*

He awoke to a shrill but familiar ringing from the livingroom. Sitting up, he felt completely disoriented for a moment, blinking at the strange weight holding his legs down. What? His phone. Where? ...Ohshit, he'd slept the night with Joe, and there was a cat on his feet.

Gently disentangling himself, Monkut limped out to the livingroom and fished his phone out of his pants pocket, sighing to see the number.

"...Um...hey mom."

Joe stepped to the bedroom door, peeking out of it, wincing to hear the greeting. They were both butt-naked, and Joe had hickeys all over his neck and shoulders. Oops. Monkut held the phone at a distance from his ear, making small noises of agreement at the string of loud Thai invectives.

"Yeah. Sorry, I spent the night with someone. Yeah, he's a nice guy."

Joe was blushing, staring at him while Monkut spoke. Then he turned, heading to the kitchen. From the noises, Joe was making coffee. Monkut approved.

"Yeah. I just forgot to call. I'm fine, I'll be home after shift tonight." Monkut hung up and followed Joe into the kitchen, watching the muscles of Joe's ass flex as he made the coffee. "That was mom. I live with them, so she was checking on me."

It wasn't coffee, it was espresso, and Joe was making him a perfect pour. Monkut's heart beat a little faster for a moment, and Joe gave him a tiny grin as he handed Monkut the cup.

"Mmmm. Good quality beans."

"Yeah. Dad gets them imported." Joe looked like there was more to say about that but he stopped. "I guess I was just shocked that you were so open about spending the night with a guy."

"Oh." Monkut shrugged. "As long as I don't make out in front of them it's fine. My uncle was a gatuy too, so they kinda expected it to run in the family."

"Gatuy? Gay?"

Monkut was too deep into his coffee to answer for a moment. The tall pour of espresso sank into his veins like a benison. The only thing it lacked was sweet condensed milk to make it a perfect Vietnamese coffee. "Want me to make you breakfast?"

Joe blinked. "Oh...right...you're a cook." He backed out of his reasonably tidy kitched, giving Monkut a half-bow. "Be my guest."

"It's the least I can do for this espresso." Monkut sipped again, and then set about investigating. Joe had a pretty good kitchen. Monkut was impressed by the array of spices, and noted that he had a decent stock of fresh ingredients in the fridge. "Fritata, omelet, fried eggs?"

"Omelet, please. I've got mushrooms down there somewhere, and some good cheese."

"So I see." Monkut stood, eyeing him with a fair bit of respect. "You cook too." There was a tupperware of pasta sauce in the fridge.

"Well yeah. Ma wouldn't have turned me out of the house useless."

Damn. Monkut stared at Joe for a moment as he stood there, naked in the doorway of his kitchen with a gorgeous dick falling down one leg. All that and the boy wasn't useless in the kitchen. Monkut smiled. He turned to get the eggs and felt a hand on his butt.

"You'd better put pants on before you cook for me," Joe said, voice going deep and smooth again. "Or you're gonna burn things."

(To be continued!)

Um. Original fic :p

Wed, 04 Mar 2009 02:53:58 GMT

Title: Back of the House
Author: Me
Disclaimer: None. Cause, well, this is an original fic.
Rating: PG13
Note: Ummmm...yeah. I wrote an original fic. This is the first of a few stories about the boys who work at Machismo's, an Italian-American restaurant in central Jersey.

Meet Joseph and Monkut.

Joseph is a good boy. He comes from a happy Italian family. He's more or less out, although his family is waiting for him to come back to God. He's waiting tables at Machismo's because he's good with people. After failing out of Rutgers, he doesn't really have a direction.

Monkut is a Thai-American who grew up in Syracuse. He's culturally white, more or less. He wants to cook in The City (i.e. New York). He's a CIA graduate, precise about cooking, with the cocky attitude of a n00b.

*

"Joe," Someone was chanting his name. "Joe. Joe. When you're done with your break, can you go help orient the new guy? He's a cook. He needs to be shown front-of-house."

"Oh. Sure, Ben." Joe tossed his clove to the ground, crushing it beneath his one pair of comfortable dress shoes that was part of the uniform for work. Rockports. Not expensive, not cheap, but more than a night's worth of tables. He turned and followed Ben inside, rolling his eyes at the twitch to his step and the grin cast over Ben's shoulder. When Joe first got there they'd fooled around, just a little. Then, Joe had called an end to it because he could tell that it wasn't gonna go anywhere. Ben was nice and all, but with his bright constant chatter and ambitions to become an actor in The City, he wasn't staying around long.

Joe was weird, and he knew it. He liked New Jersey. Loved it with a pride that glowed in his heart when he thought about the Garden State. It was home of the best director on earth, after all, and even though his poor state was overshadowed by The City, it had hidden depths. For one thing, it had his family - enormous, extended, and living in every part of the state from the Pennsylvania-esque north to the sandy south, even in the godforsaken town of Camden. The DiOrios had been in Jersey since the earliest days of the state, and to imagine moving was tantamount to denying Catholicism. It wasn't done, and if Joe did it, he'd be tossed out of home on his ass, probably by his ma.

"Hey, you stoned? And if you are, share," Ben said quietly, waving a hand in front of his face. They were in front of the hostess stand - or host, in the case of Joe. Waiting for him was a short but muscled figure with a slightly nervous expression. Short, muscled, and asian of some sort, although Joe couldn't quite place where. Their eyes caught, and Joe drew a breath. Crazy, he was feeling a vibration from this guy way down into his gut.

"Cover the stand for me for twenty minutes," Joe said, and Ben winked at him. "I'm Joe. I'm host, tonight, but I usually prefer playing the crowd as a server." He took the cook by the arm and turned, leading him through the crowd at the bar to the house. "Hey, what's your name?"

"You can call me Monkey," said the guy, giving him half a glare as if expecting shit from this.

"Monkey," Joe repeated, smiling. Okay, the guy got him. With the way his ears framed his rounded face, and the cocky twitch to his eyebrows, he did look like a monkey. "Short for something asian, I bet."

"Yeah." Monkey stared at him thoughtfully, and their eyes caught again. Joe found himself wondering if Monkey's slim chest was muscled or simply skinny, but from the guns he could see under the t-shirt, he was banking on muscled. "Work here long?"

"About six months," Joe replied, finding his voice again. What was wrong with him? Usually he was the smoothest server in the place. "Before here, I was at a different big chain. This pays better; better location, better clientele." Ah, he'd found his tongue again. He pointed to the various rooms and rattled off their names and stations. Monkey nodded, clearly half distracted. Joe felt a small surge of something strangely hopeful when he caught the other guy's eyes lingering around his hips. "Where'd you work before this?"

"Nowhere," Monkey said, shrugging. "I was at culinary school in Poughkeepsie."

Joe whistled. "You mean the CIA?"

Another nod.

"The economy must be tanking badly if you have to work at a shitty place like this." Joe kept his voice low so that nobody would hear. "I mean, it's fine for me, but not a CIA grad."

"I...ahhh...have good reasons. So is the tour done? How do servers usually sell the food?" Monkey's face was tight, his expression going polite and sweet for a moment. Joe knew misdirection when he saw it.

All business, eh? Joe explained the way they went through specials and wine, leaning a little closer as he murmured out the main special. He wasn't sure why he wanted to flirt with this guy, but he poured it on. "For tonight, we have pan-seared chicken breasts with roasted garlic, red peppers and spinach in a white wine and garlic cream sauce, tossed with curly fettuccine..."

Wait, was Monkey flinching?

Yes, yes he was. "Not a big fan of Italian food?"

"I like Italian food just fine." Monkey was backing away from him a little, and Joe eased up, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ahh, I know what you mean." Joe did. He was Italian, after all. "Give it a chance, though. Marni keeps everything pretty fresh." He felt a small surge of pride for the chain restaurant. He'd been around enough to know that it was the quality of the cooks that made a restaurant last.

They locked eyes again, Monkey with a bit of apology in his. "Sorry. I'm a complete asshole when it comes to food. And...Monkut." He mumbled the last part.

"Eh? Oh...your name?" Joe smiled at him, and saw Monkut's eyes warm up for a moment, and they smiled at each other. The moment got a little spicy in a way that Joe knew all about, silence holding for a little too long, warmth tingling down Joe's legs.

"Long story. Thai king."

"Joe..." Ben stepped up. "Uh. It's getting a little busy and you know I abhor being host..."

"Right..." Joe said, eyes tearing away from Monkut's slowly. "I'll ask you more about your name later." He put on his most charming grin and saw the other guy raise an eyebrow sardonically.

"Well. You know where to find me."

"I do."

*

Joe worked until closing, and at the end of the night he was humming the piped-in classical muzak quietly to himself while he straightened out the host stand. The last table was lingering over its meal while Ben stood wearily in a corner refilling salt shakers. When they were finally done, Joe murmured a quiet goodbye as charmingly as he could and locked the door.

He turned, heading back to the kitchen, shaking out his hands. He found he was feeling vaguely excited to see how Monkut's night had fared. When he got there, he stepped into the middle of an argument. At least, it would've been an argument if Monkut weren't so damned polite.

"But...corn starch for the alfredo?" Monkut's voice was perfectly polite, but he wasn't backing down. "I could've been on the sauce station. I know how to reduce..."

"We were busy." Marni's brow was furrowing. That was a bad sign. Joe knew that it only happened right before Marni snapped -- despite being the calm warhorse of the restaurant, if you pushed Marni in just the wrong way he'd tell you incisively exactly what he was thinking, sparing nothing.

Joe really wanted Monkey to stay. He was hot, and they had chemistry, and he was shallow about stuff like that. Joe stepped in.

"Hey -- the last table said your shrimp was to die for, Marni." Joe let his voice get all deep and soothing. Monkut turned to look at him, several expressions flitting across his face. "Ready?" Joe said to Monkut. "I'll take you out for a drink. You deserve it after working with this old guy all night."

Marni swatted his ass, cursing in Italian, and Joe flashed him his sincerest smile. "I'll delight people with your cuisine again tomorrow." Joe hustled Monkut toward the bins with dirty linens. Monkut went along without complaining, tugging off his stained apron and tossing it into the bin.

The silence lasted for the walk through the parking lot to Joe's car, with Joe pausing outside of it to suck one last puff from his cigarette. "Marni's got a temper," he finally explained. "He really hates that he has to cut corners sometimes. You were pushing a bad button there, Monkey."

"Oh. Yeah, I thought he just didn't know better."

"Arrogant much? Just cause Marni didn't go to CIA doesn't mean he isn't a fine cook. But anyway. It's time for Plan Nine."

Monkut simply smiled at that, but his eyes were quiet, expression closed. There were a lot of assumptions in both directions, Joe sensed, sighing, so he shut up and drove. They were surrounded by strip malls, but not the low-quality type. There were actually trees near the highway, and the quality of cars around the chain restaurants were decent to high. He drove away from that to an older part of town, the funny doughnut hole in the middle of a big, new county. The streets became a little run-down, a little more neighborhoody.

"Will I be able to find my way back?" Monkut asked.

"Do you want to?" Joe didn't mean to make his voice purr like that, but he heard the small intake of breath and felt satisfied.

They went into the dank noise and mostly male bustle of Plan Nine together, Joe fighting the desire to put his fingers on the small of Monkut's back. It was prettily arched, and Monkut's pants (now that his apron was off) showed off an ass so round that it was epic. "If I may ask, where are you from?"

"Syracuse," Monkut said, eyeing him with that sardonic look again.

"I mean. What ethnicity are you? I'm Italian through and through."

"Thai. But i'm more American than anything else."

They sat at the bar, stools close so that Joe could hear him talk, but it meant their legs kept brushing. "That's a new one for me. Bangkok is in Thailand, right? Mind if I smoke?"

"Yep. Only if you share."

Joe lit another clove and offered one to Monkut. They they leaned in, end of cigarette touching end of cigarette, sparks flaring between them for a minute. Monkut laughed.

"What?"

"Just...passing thought."

"Care to share?"

Monkut smirked at him. "Sparks." He took a puff and Joe watched his lips with acute fascination. They were large and soft, just like a girl's. "Just thought it was a funny coincidence."

"Isn't it?" Joe scooted just right to touch his knee to Monkut's thigh, and got that eyebrow again. He backed off, just a little. "So how was work?"

"Fine. You're right, Marni's a solid cook." Monkut sounded sheepish. "I'll actually learn here."

Joe felt no small relief at that. "Yeah? So you're staying?"

A nod. "For now. Surely this isn't the epitome of your ambitions either." Monkut took another puff of the clove, and the bartender set two PBRs down in front of them.

Ah, the what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up question. "Maybe it is," Joe shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know. This is good for right now."

"I kinda want to work at a kitchen in --"

"The City," they finished together, Joe's voice wry. "I mean, I get it. We're within a spit of The City, of course you wanna work there." It didn't stop Joe from wondering about how those lips might feel against his. True lust was just as relevant as true love, and he vowed to see how far Monkey was willing to go before leaving town.

"Right now, it's a little tough for me though, so I'm gonna stay." Monkut reached for his drink and downed a lot of it. Joe saw the tension in his back and reached out a hand after a moment and rubbed at it. They were clearly in a gay bar, and nobody would think twice. Joe like it that Monkut didn't flinch away, but instead arched his back as if encouraging the touch. Joe kept rubbing.

"Family problems?"

"Something like that. My parents...their grocery isn't doing very well. I'm staying with them and bringing in some income. Health insurance too."

Joe ran his thumb down Monkut's back and the other man grinned, finishing his cigarette and turning to face Joe. "Do you really give a shit about my family?" He scooted closer.

Avoidance again. "Yeah, maybe I do. I have a family too, after all." Joe's legs straddled Monkut's shorter ones, though, and he brought his hands down to settle on Monkut's hips. "And...never met anyone Thai-American before."

"Thai-American." That earned Joe a laugh, bright enough that dimples flashed at the corner of Monkut's cheeks. "You know, people rarely say that. I guess Thais mostly stay in Thailand. Just enough of us here to make a few restaurants."

"Do all Thai boys have fuck-me lips?" Joe gave up on subtlety, tracing a finger over the curve of Monkut's lip.

"We all have bubble-butts too."

Joe gulped. Well then, it sounded like it was on.

*

They stayed just long enough at the bar for Joe to learn the names of Monkut's sister and parents (funny nicknames, all of them short and Western like "Bike" and "Apple" and "Boat"), and to down another beer. After the second beer, Joe's thumbs were on the inside of Monkut's wrists, stroking the nerves that he knew were fried after hours of chopping.

"Fuuuuck," Monkut groaned, melting onto the bar.

"That...is actually the idea," Joe agreed, and they laughed together. Then Monkut stood, turning so that he could flash his fine ass at Joe, eyes all ironic as he motioned with his head.

"Gotta be your place."

"O-Okay." Joe felt his smoothness stumble, hormones suddenly raging at the look in those eyes.

*

"Fuck," Joe gasped, gripping Monkut and pinning him to the door. He leaned in and inhaled. Yep -- goddamn. "You smell like chocolate. That's always a good sign."

"Chocolate?" Monkut's mouth was so near his that Joe could feel the breath.

"Yeah. Pheromonal reaction to a good lay."

Monkut laughed again and Joe leaned in to eat it up, leading with his lips to catch a full one between them, feeling his dick thicken in his work pants. They both made a noise at the impact, and Joe slid his tongue between those lips to taste him. Beer and cloves...and dark spice. He felt Monkut wrap around his body, hand tugging their hips flush, and then he felt Monkut's erection digging into his.

They spent another few minutes right there against the door, Joe's lips against Monkut's, tongue caressing tongue until they were dry-humping. "Fuck," Joe said again, and his hand slid between them.

"Your cat is staring at me."

"Oh...uh. Just a second." Joe turned around and scooped up Bella, tossing her into the mess of his bedroom. Then he headed to the couch, sitting down and shifting, eyes hot on Monkut's. "Get over here."

*

(To be continued from Monkey's POV. Cause this is getting ridiculously long.)

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 22:16:22 GMT

When I drink theraflu, weird shit happens.

The Mystery Machine had a big back seat. Velma knew this mainly because it shook whenever Fred talked Shaggy into it. They didn't do it on the front seat because the old VW's gearshift was easily kicked into first, and there had been that one incident with the storefront that they were STILL paying for.

Velma mostly knew because of the hidden surveillance device. "Daphne, I think they're 'finding clues' again."

Daphne giggled, flipping her hair and trotting over. "What excuse did Fred give this time?" She draped her arm casually over Velma's shoulder, leaning down to look. Her breast brushed Velma's back, but Velma was used to Daphne's teasing.

"Oh, the usual," Velma laughed. "Shaggy did it for a Scooby Snack."

The little surveillance camera was dark and jaggy and grainy, but the girls settled in to watch.

"J-Jeepers," Fred gasped, hand clutching Shaggy's hair. "B-boy, you weren't joking when you said you were good at eating."

"Better be a real good Scooby Snack for this," Shaggy said, laughing humorlessly before returning to work.

...And then my brain died.

Thu, 12 Feb 2009 18:46:52 GMT

Title: Another day of practice
Starring: The Shitenhouji dance academy.
Note: Remember ballet-verse? This is a tinyfic written in ballet-verse for Melly, who wanted more Baka pair.

"It's called a pas-de-deux," Yuuji said testily, "because it's meant for TWO, not THREE, Koharu."

Koharu stood slightly apart from the pair in the middle of the floor, glaring daggers at Oshitari. "You don't lift from that low on the hips," Koharu growled. "It's higher on the waist. Want me to show you?"

"I'm doin' it the right way, idiot," Kenya said testily.

"Koharu," Osamu sighed from the bench. "Please get the hell off the floor. I didn't cast you as the cavalier because we needed someone more classically handsome."

"My Koharu is perfectly handsome," Yuuji protested, pivoting a little in Kenya's hands to do a perfect portebras derriere. Kenya's hands dipped to support his move, and Koharu took a few more steps toward them.

"Gin," Osamu coughed.

"Of course. I'll go ahead and show Kenya the lift," Gin said, and loomed over the trio in such a way that Koharu fell back. He took Yuuji by the waist and easily hefted him into the air, letting him settle back down to complete the fouette.

"Nice. Now why didn't I think of Gin?" Osamu mused, chewing his toothpick meditatively. It was a bad morning, he was on his third one. "Okay everyone, take your places. And you," he eyed Koharu, "back to the goddamned corps or you're gonna be Clara in the next four Nutcrackers."

Koharu went back to his position, much chastened, and sank to one knee with his arms in third position.

"Tachibana, if you and Chitose could stop 'finding your internal rhythm' for a minute, we need the beat?"

The blushing drummer returned to his drum and they began. All was well with the pas des deux until the moment where they'd paused last time.

"Too low," Koharu muttered.

"It's fine," Kenya growled.

"Konjiki Koharu! If you interrupt my moment of glory I'm never speaking to you again!" Yuuji wailed, and everything fell to shit from there.

Osamu lay back on his beach chair (repurposed for choreography) and stuck his hat over his eyes. Squabbles made for peaceful white noise while he napped, and he was sure everything would work itself out eventually.

Tue, 20 Jan 2009 04:25:06 GMT

How much do I fail?

I totally found Niou hair in Second Life. V__V. Here's my avatar as Niou -- Rikkai uniform a little harder to find, so I just kinda made him hot :p

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 00:35:30 GMT

Okay. This looks like fun:

New Years Kiss Meme!

Give me a fandom/pairing/character or just a prompt and I'll write you 100 words or less of a New Years Smooch!

It'll be a challenge, keeping under 100 words. XD Request as much as you want, though I might not fill all requests.

Spread the meme around and share some New Year Love!

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 04:29:08 GMT

Okay guys.

It's time to get my fic brain working, so plz to drabble prompt me.

1. Two characters
2. An emotion

Tue, 25 Nov 2008 01:16:51 GMT

Title: Some time after they turned 16...
Rating: R
Characters: Chiquita -- Chitose Senri/Tachibana Kippei. Guest starring Fudomine, Shitenhouji, and the Chitose family.
Disclaimer: I don't own PoT
Author's note: Written for Mel and Mandii, who inspired me with their Chiquita RPing.

Tachibana stared down at the chocolate pudding, feeling queasy. It was the day after his first time, and his ass stung like he'd been passing sandpaper. This was not okay, none of it. It wasn't okay to let Chitose into his brain, or his heart, or his body, and now he was sitting at lunch and the whole high school team was looking at him like he was the messiah.

"So we're doing the invitational in Osaka?!" someone asked in a hushed tone.

"What?" Tachibana growled and put down his fork. The pudding quivered like a horrible metaphor.

Everybody looked away, and Tachibana knew that he was probably exuding darkness like a stormcloud.

"Just ignore him," Shinji muttered to the table in general. "Chitose from Shitenhouji was here to talk about the invitational, and whenever Chitose comes over, he PMSes. I'm serious, he's just like my twin sisters. It's like Chitose knows exactly how to set him -- Ow. Akira, stop poking me with your elbows, they're sharp."

Tachibana sighed and tried to lighten up. He cleared his throat. "So right, about next week. Yes, we're traveling to Osaka. Yes, we'll be playing Shitenhouji -- Chitose and I talked about the invitational last night." He gave Shinji a swift look. "We'll be there through Monday, so be sure to pick up your absence notes from An."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief -- Buchou was back from wherever he'd gone in his mind. Tachibana wished it were true -- instead, he tossed the pudding underhand into the trash can and rubbed the spot on his forehead. This whole idea was nuts. They were going to get creamed, and Tachibana was pretty sure Chitose would try to screw him again the second they were alone.

"I'm sure all you did was talk," Shinji muttered, "all you two ever do is talk. That's why you communicate so well with him. Ow. Akira, keep your elbows in."

*

The motion of the bullet train was soothing, and Tachibana rested his head on the glass. Kamio was next to him, lost in a world of music. Kamio was always Tachibana's top choice for a seat-partner because he didn't talk. Instead, Tachibana stared at the passing rice patties, the far off mountain, the little stands of bamboo and pine. Japan was small and perfect and old and young at the same time, and Tachibana felt the strange need to protect it -- hm, perhaps he'd been too long with Fudomine, too many years as captain -- something was clearly cooking his brain.

Sore. Each tilt of the train sent him rocking on his healing asshole, and he wondered what the hell had possessed them both.

What happened was this. They'd been in the office working out the details of the trip. Chitose sat close, smelling of patchouli and weed and unwashed hair. Tachibana leaned in to see if he still smelled of clay like he did when they were kids together, but none of the scent of the potter's son remained. Chitose looked up at an inopportune moment, and suddenly their eyes were on each other with a thousand memories in each.

"Hey, we kissed once," Chitose said after a long moment.

"Shut up," Tachibana murmured, and then leaned forward the requisite amount to lick a bead of sweat off of Chitose's upper lip. That led to other things, like Tachibana straddling Chitose's lap, rubbing his erection against Chitose's stomach, tongue against tongue in a frenzy of hunger. Chitose smelled weird but tasted like chocolate, and Tachibana didn't resist when a hand slid down his stomach to cup his balls.

"I want you," Chitose moaned, after a moment, "I want to fuck you."

"Thanks, Mr. Obvious," Tachibana replied between gasps as his balls were fondled. "So fuck me."

The romance of those words soon had him bent over the desk, a finger wriggling around inside of his ass to get him ready, his elbows braced on a pile of Freshman composition papers.

Chitose's finger felt nice, so Tachibana moaned out encouragement. Then came Chitose's cock, which was not so nice -- big enough to make his eyes sting and his erection wilt, and then it was moving in and out of a place that had nothing to ease the pushing. "Fuck," Tachibana gasped, and put his hand down to jack himself off. This was not okay, even though Chitose was moaning in his ear.

So good so hot so tight so amazing Kippei Kippei oh God

That was nice. For him.

After Chitose came in him, Tachibana felt a strange sense of loss and shame and swiftly kicked him out. "Bye."

"Wait."

"That sucked."

"I probably did it wrong."

"Yeah. Bye. I need to hit the bathroom."

"Kippei --"

Then, when Chitose finally strode out looking lost but somehow peaceful (the bastard), Tachibana ran to the bathroom and tried not to squick himself out as whatever was up there tried to leave. It stung. He wiped off with alcohol just in case anything got infected, and it hurt like a motherfucker. Then, Tachibana swore off sex (except with girls) and Chitose (forever). Except...they'd already planned this trip...

*

"Dropped your water bottle," Kamio said, again, patiently. "Hello. Earth to Kippei."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Tachibana bent to get the bottle and winced again, sitting up and thinking with annoyance that today he didn't feel sore so much as empty. Then, his cell beeped. It was Chitose, texting him. "C U @ airport."

Tachibana snorted and saw Kamio craning his head to see what was on his phone. "It's just Senri."

Kamio blushed a little and didn't say anything. Tachibana sighed. Somehow that was much worse than Shinji just speaking his mind.

"Don't bother," Tachibana texted back.

"Of course I wd come 2 see my boyfriend."

"Your what?!" Oops, Tachibana had said that out loud.

"Hm?" Kamio replied, craning his neck again. He caught the word 'boyfriend' and his eyes widened as he glanced at Tachibana.

"Shit. Argh. Nothing's...going on. Senri's just confused."

Shinji popped his head up from the seat in front of them. "Confused how, buchou?" he said pleasantly. "Do we need to take care of him for you? Because you know we would. All for one and one for all. Did he rape you or something? You've been walking funny for a week now. Ow. Ishida, what the fuck. It's like none of you know where your elbows should be."

*

Chitose met them at the airport with a minivan, so that was useful. Then, he dispersed various parts of Fudomine to various people's houses, Ishida going (of course) to his brother's, Shinji and Kamio to Shiraishi's (apparently at Shinji's request -- he had a bit of a crush), and the rest to Kenya's. Kenya's house was the largest, perhaps because of the family money. Tachibana knew as they drove around how the night would go and sighed as he was left alone in the minivan with Chitose.

"So I stay at your house?"

"Where else would you stay?" Chitose threw him an amused look, half laughing and a little bit hurt. It twisted in Tachibana's heart.

"We're NOT dating, Senri."

"We are. I don't mingle auras lightly. Did you know that part of the aura of every single person you have sex with stays with you?"

"We're not dating just so your aura can stay clean, Senri."

"We're dating because I --"

"Don't. No. No. I'm not having sex with you again."

"You are, you have to, I have to prove that it can be --"

"No means no."

*

Tachibana imagined that the house would be dark and quiet, empty except for the two of them, and was half-ashamed to find that he was disappointed when they pulled into the driveway of the old familiar house and it was well-lit and bustling.

"Mom and dad were happy to hear that we're dating," Chitose whispered as Tachibana stepped into the door.

"What?"

But then Rumiko and Dustin (as they were known) came toward Tachibana with open arms, and not long after, a growing brown girl joined the group hug.

"Oof," Tachibana said, laughing, hugging the whole crew. They were as demonstrative as the Tachibana family was not.

"Why are you dating HIM?" Miyuki complained, clinging to Tachibana's waist. "I thought you were gonna marry ME."

Tachibana opened his mouth to reply that he was NOT dating Chitose when Chitose's mother sighed. "Ahh -- Kippu -- I know you two aren't really dating. Senri is just overly imaginative."

Tachibana always did love Rumiko. Chitose looked a bit deflated, and Miyuki puffed up. "Cause he's waiting for me to grow up," she beamed.

Then, it was dinner time, and the hot pot was perfect. Tachibana felt like one of the family, and found himself unloading about the trials and tribulations of being a captain at an eternally underfunded school. "We had to have someone let out the seams on the practice pants so that we could wear something," he chuckled, "we all looked like we were waiting for the flood for a while."

"When I become rich and famous," Dustin said with a dreamy glint in his eye, "I'll endow the tennis team at Fudomine."

"Because famous ceramics bring in the dough," Rumiko snorted.

Tachibana considered proposing marriage to Chitose's mother, but then dinner was done and it was time for dishes. Washing in a row between Chitose (table clearer) and Miyuki (dryer), Tachibana smiled down at the totally expensive ceramic plates, wondering which one would endow Fudomine's team.

"What're you smiling about?" Chitose asked quietly. He'd been quiet all dinner, and Tachibana knew that there was still hurt in his eyes from earlier.

"Family. Your family. You guys are nuts."

"When we get married, can we be normal?" Miyuki asked plaintively.

"Yes," Tachibana said with a firm nod, but smiling at Chitose. Their eyes held for a long moment, and Tachibana felt his throat go strangely dry. He remembered the heat of Chitose's body over his back, the sound of his name in a tumble of syllables against his ear.

"See, aniki? He's totally marrying me!"

*

Tachibana's futon was right next to Chitose's, and he didn't complain. Instead, he washed up and was unsurprised to find Chitose lying over the quilt in a pair of boxers, head braced on his hand. He sat up when Tachibana entered, and Tachibana found himself flopping down beside him.

"PlayStation until it's time to sleep?" Tachibana suggested wryly.

Chitose snorted and then moved closer and closer until he was well within Tachibana's aura. Tachibana scooted back just to tease him, and then found himself pushed to the futon with a firm hand.

"Quit that," Chitose said, staring down with hungry eyes. Then he leaned down and kissed Tachibana.

Tachibana kissed him too, and then felt himself harden up when Chitose's tongue found his. Tachibana raised his leg to hide his erection and Chitose laughed, gripping Tachibana's wrists and settling over him. Chitose's body felt long and heavy over his, and Tachibana felt a hot shiver when he realized that Chitose was just as hard. "Gonna stick it in me again? I'm going to lose tomorrow if you do," Tachibana said, setting his chin, bracing himself for it.

Chitose laughed again and cupped his chin with a hand, eyes warm on his. "Nah. I owe you." He kissed Tachibana again, and then Tachibana groaned when a large warm hand pushed aside fabric and closed around his erection.

"It hurt so fucking badly last time," Tachibana gasped.

"I know," Chitose said, and licked Tachibana's ear. That felt nice. Then they kissed each other again and Tachibana felt all of the blood and history and air between them ignite. Time went liquid, and it felt like he'd always been kissing Chitose -- on the neck, the chin, the lips, the broad shoulders. His wrists were still in one of Chitose's hands, and his cock was in the other. It felt better than jerking himself off, so much better.

After Tachibana came he extricated a hand and found Chitose's bulge. He gave it a stroke and found Chitose shivering against him, face hidden in his hair. "What, is this wrong?"

"Ahhh...no," Chitose gasped. After Chitose came, which didn't take long, they did it all over again but with their dicks touching, Tachibana's arms wrapped tightly around Chitose, moving like they'd always been moving together.

After they wiped up all of the come (at Tachibana's insistence), they fell asleep in a mess of lanky limbs and sweat.

*

The next day Fudomine lost before Tachibana could play Chitose. None of Fudomine seemed to mind. Shinji had a light in his eyes and a twitch to his walk, and if Tachibana squinted he could kind of see Shiraishi's eyes following Shinji's every movement as he absent-mindedly twirled the bandage on and off his wrist.

That was a story he wanted to hear.

Chitose met Tachibana at the net as the teams bowed to each other. "See you next week?"

"Oh. Uh."

Two rows of eyes were on them both, suppressed grins on far too many faces.

"...Yeah."

Applause.

"I'm going to fucking kill you all."

Then laughter.

"I'm serious!"

More laughter, and then Chitose swept Tachibana under an arm, net between them, kissing his hair. "Let them laugh. It's been a while."

Wed, 27 Aug 2008 01:29:09 GMT

Title: A lonely birthday
Rating: R for a bit o' the smex
Characters: Troika, data pair (cause k8 wanted it all !)
Disclaimer: I don't own PoT
Author's note: Happy birthday, miss kat8cha. ♥

He was Yanagi Renji. Quiet. Data player. Only really notable because of his childhood friendship with one Inui Sadaharu, maker of "Inui Juice." Yanagi was the third member of the gang of three, and probably the weakest, only really part of the trio because he had the data to make Sanada and Yukimura sweat when he wanted them to. Contrary to popular opinion Kirihara did not have a crush on him, nor did Niou or Yagyuu. In fact, between the heat of regard between Sanada and Yukimura, and the happy cosplayers that were D1, Yanagi's place was uniquely lonely. He had himself, when all the cards were down, and not even an adoring kouhai to grope his muscles or ask him for extra training with wet t-shirts.

It didn't matter, Yanagi thought to himself on his birthday, which had gone largely ignored. Being self sufficient meant that he could quietly fade into the background while data flicked, number by number, into his encyclopedic memory. So he sat into the tennis office well into the early evening, making practice schedules until it was time for a quiet birthday dinner with his parents. He had wished (a little bit) that Yukimura cared enough to notice, but he also knew that Yukimura's operation was hurting him, and that every moment torn from practice was one moment less that Yukimura could use to rebuild his body. So Yanagi sat alone, stoically philosophical, assigning names to little grids.

Then Yanagi heard the door open, footsteps pad toward him, one pair. "Seiichi." No. Firmer, more widely paced, taller. "No, Gen."

"No," said the deep voice, and a small cup was placed next to him. The cup had exactly three flowers in it, but they were his three favorites -- indigo orchid, vermillion carnation, ochre black-eyed-susan. "Sadaharu."

Yanagi turned, feeling an embarrassing rush of heat in his face, and peeked up at Inui from beneath his bangs. "Mm. It's you. This is for my birthday, I assume."

"Aa. Of course." Inui gripped a chair and brought it over, close to Yanagi's. "Your parents have asked me to join you for dinner. I decided to see if you were still here, as you have been this past month."

Yanagi decided not to ask how Inui knew that. He was probably bribing Niou for information, and Yanagi seriously didn't want to know about that kind of thing. "How are you...today? Thank you for these." Yanagi fingered the rounded bottom lobe of the orchid, as veined as some of the genitalia he'd seen in his pornography collection.

"Did you know that 'orchid' means 'testicle'?" Inui's deep voice was smooth and evenly inflected, and after a moment of blank consideration Yanagi snorted his laughter.

"A-aah, yes, I did," Yanagi said, and hastily drew his fingers back from caressing the flower. That would not do.

"I was amused when your mother mentioned that it was your favorite flower. I am sorry that there are only three, but I have been saving my allowance."

"Oh?" Yanagi was very, very amused. The light reflected off of Inui's glasses in such a way that he couldn't see through them, and he wondered how sunlight followed Inui around to the extent that such a thing happened almost all of the time. "What are you saving it for?"

Inui smiled, a faint upward tilt of his lips in his strong jaw. "I am certain you will be able to guess."

"Oh?" Yanagi paused, head tilted down, bangs brushing over his lashes. "Taking Kaidoh Kaoru out on a date?"

Silence for a moment, then a large hand tilting up Yanagi's face by the chin. "Perhaps I have provided insufficient data," Inui said, and leaned forward to press a kiss upon Yanagi's mouth.

Kiss - ! Yanagi's first, stolen quite efficiently, with Inui's lips warm and soft against his for a long, dizzying moment. Inui smelled like ginger, oregano, mint, leeks, and miso, and tasted perfect. It was a perfect birthday kiss --

"Mm. Pardon me." Such an ironic, light voice. Yanagi sprang back from the kiss, gripping the table to spin himself around, cheeks flushing. "S-seiichi."

Yukimura walked over and leaned against the desk beside the two sitting boys, arms crossed, eyes deeply amused. "Ah, so Inui of Seigaku remembered that it was your birthday. Is that why you're here so late, Renji? To make out in the tennis office?"

"Of course not," Yanagi shuffled the papers on the desk, resolutely not looking Inui's way. "Practice schedules." Damn.

"I took advantage of his hard work," Inui said, voice low and straightforward as ever. "I had planned upon slightly more, if you will excuse us--"

"I will not," Yukimura said, and rested his hand on Yanagi's hair, stroking it gently. "What if I had planned upon surprising our birthday boy with the same sort of present?" His fingers danced around, and Yanagi felt butterflies in his stomach. "What about it, Renji?" Yukimura leaned in, smelling like caramel shampoo, dark eyes glittering ever so slightly with a wicked sort of entreaty.

Yanagi could not say no to his buchou. His mouth was dry, and ignoring the dark, warm presence of Inui to his side, he opened his eyes a little to nod mutely. Then, hearing a low growl to his left, Yanagi braced himself as Yukimura leaned forward to slowly kiss him. This kiss was a little different -- softer, smaller mouth, also a sly one. Soon Yanagi felt his lips parted with a slight touch of tongue, and soon his own was caught in a wet web of sensation, fly pinned by a caramel scented spider.

Footsteps interrupted this one too, and another low growl echoed through the office. Yanagi cursed his luck -- his first two kisses should've been much more private affairs. "Gen," Yanagi sighed.

"You two began without me." Then, without any preliminary discussion, Yanagi felt the back of his head caught by a rough hand as he was spun around, and suddenly another pair of hard, strong lips were pressed against his, teeth digging just a little into his bottom lip. "NNh," Yanagi murmured in a small protest, feeling the kiss down to his toes.

"My turn again," Inui murmured after a moment, and Yanagi heard the small impact of an impatient hand shoving Sanada away. Somehow Sanada didn't retaliate with a slap, and instead Yanagi's breath caught as his friends allowed Inui to lean in for another kiss, this one a slower, wetter one, tongue sharing the flavors of secret ingredients while Yanagi felt his body begin to stir despite the strange situation.

Inui stopped the kiss and spun Yanagi's chair exactly 45 degrees to where Yukimura was leaning against the desk, and those bright eyes smiled again, mouth opening to Yanagi's and coaxing in his tongue. Yanagi's fingers slid into Yukimura's hair for a long moment, and then he groaned when Yukimura did something hot and tugging with his mouth that went straight to Yanagi's groin. Then, another spin, and Sanada caught him again, tongue pressing in demandingly, hand holding Yanagi's hair in a vice grip as the kiss went immediately deep.

More spins, and after six or seven more shared kisses Yanagi was a panting mess. "You three are insane," he said, clutching the arms of the chair for support. He was ignoring the tent in his pants and hoping everyone else would have the decency to ignore it too. "Seiichi, you planned this."

Yukimura chuckled, and Sanada left the room for a moment while Inui took some time to explore the side of Yanagi's neck with his tongue. "AAhh -- you -- this is embarrassing," Yanagi muttered a little crossly between deep breaths.

"Stop complaining," Yukimura murmured, and then Yanagi cried out as a very skillful hand settled over the lump in his pants. "N-no -- stop --"

Sanada returned with a small cake, candles lit. "Happy birthday."

"NNhhhh..." Yanagi moaned, feeling his pants unzipped while Inui's teeth settled upon a very, very sensitive part of his neck.

"Blow out the candles," Yukimura whispered into Yanagi's ear, breath warming it, hand sliding down his abdomen to close around the thickened muscle of his genitalia.

"NN...wha..."

"Here." Sanada held the cake close, meeting Yanagi's eyes with a heated look.

Yanagi blew. Then Sanada speared a piece of cake on a fork and slid it between Yanagi's lips. "Uhhhh...t-tiramisu..." Yukimura was using his racket hand. Oh god.

"Mm," Inui murmured into Yanagi's other ear, tongue grazing it. "I mentioned that it was your favorite. Is it good?"

"So -- very -- smooth and --" Sanada was staring down at Yukimura's hand in his lap and Yanagi squirmed from the utter embarrassment, from the pleasure. "Goooooooooood," Yanagi groaned, and caught Yukimura's wrist in warning. Another moment and he'd mess everyone's clothing.

"Allow me." Sanada knelt, and three seconds later Yanagi gaped with astonishment as Sanada closed his mouth around -- "OH GOD --"

Yanagi came into Sanada's mouth while he swallowed the rest of the tiramisu in his own. Yukimura laughed heartily a second later when Sanada made a face and bolted for the bathroom to spit. Yanagi slumped back into Inui's arms and stared at his cake.

"Hm," Yukimura said, his voice a little husky. "I think I'll go...see if Gen needs anything. I assume Inui will make sure you eat the rest of the cake."

"Thank you --" Yanagi said blankly, and then Inui held the fork to his lips.

"Eat some," Inui said with a smile, "because I want to taste it too."

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 23:20:28 GMT

Tonight is SILVER TRIO prompts.

That's right, give me a situation, just so long as it involves SHISHIDO, OHTORI and HIYOSHI.

Okays? Okays.

*

This post is obviously not for those who don't like this trio ^^; -- next one for you guys.

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 15:05:11 GMT

MMORPGs and online RPs vs. Real Life.

I've had issues where I get so sucked into the world of MMORPGs and RPs that I ignore other things, like what I should be doing. This creates no end of issues IRL. What are your experiences with this topic? What's the line? Have you had to set limits for yourself? Have you had relationships break down because of it?

[ This is cross-posted to my rl LJ. I'll get to the cute and fuzzy drabbles when I have time later tonight! ]

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 01:07:19 GMT

Okay, people.

Prompt me with:

Two characters and an animal.

(I can haz fluffy kitten day?)

♥

short fic for Mel, Chiquita smut

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 18:29:28 GMT

Who: Chiquitita (okay, bad Abba pun, it's Chiquita)
What: SMUT in the doctor's office after Nationals. It's Mel's fault.
Warnings: Hard R for ... stuff.
Disclaimer: I don't own any PoT.

*

After their match, Tachibana sat in the hospital emergency room waiting for the eye doctor to come. Chitose stood close, too close, sweat still dripping off his body from the game. Tachibana tried to ignore it, and ignore how Chitose was looking at him. His eye stung like a motherfucker, but his body was still singing from the adrenaline of their competition.

He'd already gotten the initial examination. Everything was fine, and they'd both breathed enormous sighs of relief. In retrospect, Tachibana admitted to himself that he'd been boneheaded. Now he had eyedrops in, and the doctors were waiting for dilation before checking the cornea.

"What're you thinking, Kippei?" Chitose's light voice broke through his old friend's thoughts. Then a hand settled on his shoulder, and he was thinking something entirely different.

"I'm thinking I should've ducked," Tachibana said ruefully, grinning despite the pain.

"God. Yeah, you moron." Chitose ran his thumb around Tachibana's shoulder muscle, feeling the tension there. They weren't gonna rehash the argument. It was observable fact that Tachibana was a moron.

In a minute Tachibana was super-aware of the heat of Chitose's body, his expression, half fond and half annoyed, and his arm. "It was still a good match," he mumbled, and hooked Chitose closer with his legs.

Chitose laughed. "Yeah," he said, stepping in. His heart rate sped up another notch, and he could hear it drumming as he touched Tachibana's hair.

Tachibana gripped his shirt and dragged his head down. His kiss was fierce and hungry, and his fingers dug into the back of Chitose's shirt. Chitose found that he had to shift to keep balance, leaning on one arm against the examination cot, other one clenching into the overbleached hair. Tachibana's tongue was in his mouth, and Chitose bit at it to keep it at bay.

"No. Come on, more," Tachibana demanded, gripping Chitose by the seat of the pants and tugging him flush.

Chitose tried to pull back. "Your eye, Kippei," he protested, and felt a slap to his rear. "Hey now."

"Distract me from the pain?" Tachibana asked huskily.

Oh. Chitose could do that. "How much time left?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Good thing you aren't wearing pants." Chitose tugged up the hospital gown, nails scraping up Tachibana's thigh, looking down to chuckle at the tent. "What got you worked up?"

"Playing you," Tachibana said, leaning in to bite his chin. "Finally getting over our issue, after so many years. I feel..." He felt like he was flying, like the guilt on his shoulders was lifted, vanished, turning him lighter than air. His hand rubbed down Chitose's stomach, found the soft lump in his pants. "What's with this?" He squished it, frowning.

"Hey. Mh. Too worried about you. But I can take care of you." Chitose pushed Tachibana back, hiked up the robe, and ran his finger over the hard cock beneath. Thirteen minutes. He leaned down and kissed Tachibana again, rubbing his crotch for a moment against Tachibana's rear, feeling the heat stir in his own pants. "Too bad we don't have condoms and a lock on the door."

"Now we're talking," Tachibana grinned. "We'll do it later." He strained under Chitose, rubbing his nails against the skin under Chitose's shirt, feeling drips of sweat hit his face. Chitose's body moved lower, and he felt a surge of heat as Chitose sank his teeth into one, and then the other nipple, working his way down.

"Oh -- fuck yeah," Tachibana groaned, a leg rising to loop over Chitose's skinny waist.

"You pervert," Chitose grinned, and began to take good care of Tachibana's tennis issue. His tongue lapped in a thick line from base to tip of Tachibana's erection, and then he ate it, shoving it down his mouth and tonguing the vein.

Tachibana's fingers lost themselves in Chitose's fro and he clung, panting, body rising to fuck that mouth. He sent up a prayer of thanks for the size of his companion -- Chitose sure was big, mouth and arms and...

Chitose chuckled low in his throat, glancing up at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes. He move his thumb to settle between Tachibana's cheeks, knowing what would get his old friend off, rubbing it hard and then pressing the dry tip a tad inside.

"Fuck! Yes," Tachibana was panting and moving now, eyes closed, and Chitose could only imagine what he was thinking. Maybe getting pounded on court, maybe even tennis, Kippei was a strange boy. Chitose's mouth constricted and tugged as he worked Tachibana's cock -- eight minutes. Kippei better come soon. Chitose wet his thumb and pressed it in further, trying to dig up into Tachibana's tight pucker.

They'd done it before, oh yeah, a few times -- even before their bodies really knew what they were up to. it was a thing, with them. Old, old friends. Bodies that fit like a comfortable glove over an affectionate hand. And now, Chitose felt a twinge in his heart as he felt Tachibana throb inside of his mouth. Not long now.

"I'm thinking of...the time on the beach..." Tachibana said between moans, and Chitose felt himself harden further. Oh yeah, THAT time. That had been hot, and almost public, and ... and hot. He made a muffled groan of encouragement around Tachibana's thickening cock, and then bore down, sucking hard. -- That had been their first time, on a blanket on the sand, in the dark of a moonless night.

"S-Senri - !" Tachibana gasped, and filled Chitose's mouth.

Chitose turned, spit into the sink, washing down the evidence. Then he neatly pulled the gown back down.

The doctor opened the door to see a flushed and moaning Tachibana.

"Are you all right?" The doctor moved to the bed and Chitose swiftly spun to hide the lump in his pants. -- Damn. "Are you having an allergic reaction?"

Chitose sniggered. Yeah, sometimes Tachibana sounded like he was having a fit.

"Oh ahhhh...ahaha. I'm fine," Tachibana said, voice thick with sheepishness. "Just...still...recovering from the match." He shot Chitose a glare.

Chitose raised his eyebrows in return. "Your fault for thinking about...it, Kippei," he murmured, and the doctor looked from one of them to the other.

"Well. Just rest, and don't let your friend work you up," the doctor said, frowning at Chitose.

Chitose sighed down at Tachibana after the doctor left. "You owe me again."

"I'll pay you back in kind. You know me. I'm all for an eye for an eye."

don't stand so close to meeeee

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 23:42:01 GMT

Title: Don't stand so...don't stand so...
Characters: Osamu and Ishida Gin
Rating: G
Notes: Shortfic rapidly scrawled down for Whisper132, because she's moving house and needs something fun to read.

Twenty-seven was a lonely year. All of Osamu's co-workers were women, as was normal for a school teacher. There were several single ladies, too, who on more than one occasion made it known that they would not exactly shun the attention of the hippie teacher.

"Are you free tonight, Watanabe-san? We're all going out for karaoke after the staff meeting."

"Ahhh...I'm sorry, I have a conference with a student after that."

The history teacher frowned. "Oh? Isn't it late for a student conference? We don't want you giving your whole life to the school like Yankumi," she joked, accidentally leaning too far forward to pick up a dropped book.

Osamu stared into the valley of her boobs and sighed. "It's a hard job," he said, "especially coaching. But we don't want anyone to fail, do we? I mean, with the National competition coming up and all..."

That got rid of her, and Osamu was left to amble his way back to his office, where he was actually going to hide from the staff meeting because of a serious report card issue.

Ishida came in with a furrowed brow, twitching as usual. Osamu noted something interesting about his tennis boys -- their natural state of relaxation was actually one big mass of twitch, as though they didn't know how to be still. Ishida twirled his racket, flexed his wrist, and stretched out his side while standing "still" in front of Osamu's desk.

"What are you doing later tonight?" Osamu asked, tapping the report card on the desk thoughtfully.

"Ma wants me to do laundry," Ishida returned promptly, and Osamu felt the twist in his gut that screamed at him to stop staring at the young boy's arms.

"Ah. Well, you need to stay here. Says you failed out on English, and we've gotta get you into a make-up exam before nationals."

Ishida shifted guiltily. Studying was not his strong suit, and his racket stopped twirling for a moment. "Oh. Yeah."

"Sit, Gin. We'll go over the exam carefully." Osamu hadn't exactly stolen the make-up exam. He'd simply let himself get sweet-talked into sharing lunch, and as a result he'd walked away with last year's copy.

Such an obedient boy, Ishida was. He pulled up a chair and leaned far too close to Osamu, so close that it had him chanting a certain British pop song in his head.

"Okay. Let's go over this book passage, shall we?" Osamu cleared his throat and scooted away, only to find that Gin scooted with him, arm around the back of his chair to get closer to what Osamu was pointing to. "Read that out loud, okay?"

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

"Wha-- stop." Osamu stared down at the book. Yes, it was haunting him, his private little fixation. He swallowed, brow knitting.

"What does 'fire of my loins' mean, sensei?"

"-- Ahhhh. That...uh. Isn't very important." Osamu felt flustered, shifting his straw rapidly from one side of his mouth to the other. "It refers to his ... uh ... physical reaction to a younger ... person that he's interested in."

"Oh." Ishida was looking at him. "That sounds important."

"W-well, it might be central to the plot, yes. It isn't right for..." stop looking! "For an older person to take advantage of someone young and inexperienced."

"What if the young person has experience?"

Now that just wasn't fair. "...Ahh, it still isn't all right," Osamu said after a moment, gulping and looking anywhere but at Gin. "Okay, let's continue."

It took a while, but they made it through the quiz. By the end of listening to Ishida recite from various parts of Lolita, Osamu had a pounding headache and an aching ... other part, and he wanted to go to the bathroom to take two Advil and relieve himself. Ishida, on the other hand, seemed to get closer and closer until he was murmuring the book into Osamu's ear.

"God help us," Osamu sighed, as he scored the quiz. "Hey, you did perfectly."

"I can read English quite well."

"Then why did you fail the last quiz?"

Ishida looked down at his hands again. "My mind was wandering."

Osamu stared at him. "Oh? Thinking about Nationals?"

Blushing, Ishida turned away. "...Something like that. Thank you for the lesson, sensei. You teach literature very, very well."

"Yeah. Any time." Osamu continued to stare as Ishida walked his powerful butt out of the room. ...Huh. He stared down at the 100% that he'd absently scrawled across the top of the paper. Huh.

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 02:56:07 GMT

Monologue prompt night!

Prompt me with one character and a thought.

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 05:37:19 GMT

Have you ever gotten yourself off because of something someone did in an online RPG?

8D

Anonymous posting is enabled.

Kiss for Rika

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 13:36:16 GMT

Title: Medical tape and macaroons
Characters: Niou/Marui
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own PoT
Note: This was written for Rika, who desired Niou/Marui. Gomen to the D1 Kiri/Marui shippers, this is not your fic. :D

Long hot afternoons of practice took their toll. Marui frowned as the sweat dripped into his eye, ready for one last running leap off of Jackal's back. He hesitated, gathered his strength, and then did it, feeling the moment of vertigo when he was in the air, inverted, limbs splayed to balance his flight.

Then, a return to the ground, with a sudden flare of sun in the eyes -- something went wrong. Marui landed on his hip and skidded across the rough clay of the court. He let out a yowl, and instantly people appeared above him.

Jackal, looking down. "Hey. Whatcha trying to do, scrape your skin off? I know it's hot and all..." He reached down a hand to pull Marui up, but was stopped by Yukimura.

Yukimura knelt. "Roll to your side."

Marui complied, frowning. His body ached. "I think it's just a scrape."

"It is. You're lucky. You were careless to fall," Yukimura chided, dusting the grit off Marui's thigh. "What happened?"

"Sunspot," Marui muttered, wincing at the fingers on his torn thigh. "Sweat got in my eyes and it sparked."

"I should issue everybody headbands," Yukimura sighed. "Niou -- see to Marui. Jackal, you should be noticing when your partner sweats. Don't you have handkerchiefs?"

"Why me? Shouldn't he be in charge of his own bo--"

"Laps, ten of them, for allowing your partner to fall."

Jackal looked like he was about ready to mouth off, but Marui shot him a warning look. Just do it before you get more laps. Jackal sucked it up and complied, trotting off a little wearily around the court.

*

Niou was off swinging rackets with the first-years when he heard Yukimura's call. "Keep it up," he instructed, "or you'll find lizards in your racket bags."

The whole group of first years shuddered in terror and complied. Niou's method of instruction was effective, and he had a reasonably pleased smile on his face as he sauntered over to walk beside Marui.

"What, got distracted?"

Marui glanced up at him and then hung on his arm while he coddled his leg with a limp. "Just sun," he shrugged, and his stomach gave a little growl. "Maybe some blood sugar issues too."

Niou gave Marui his usual inscrutable but mischievous glance. "Let's wipe you up and steal food. I'm hungry too." Niou settled Marui onto a bench and went to get the first aid kit. Marui melted down and sighed, lying back, sticking his leg into the air. The abrasion was high on his thigh, sweeping in an ugly red pattern from hip to knee. Maybe he should start wearing little modesty pants like Kikumaru from Seigaku...

Then Niou returned, opening the medical kit. Instead of kneeling beside Marui, he hefted up Marui's legs by the ankles and straddled the bench between them.

"Hey -- what kind of hentai position is this?" Marui asked, glaring up from between his legs.

"You're the one with the dirty mind," Niou smirked, "I just needed a good position for applying the alcohol.

"Right. You're getting your ass kicked -- OW." Marui held still, face furrowing as Niou relentlessly wiped down the area with alcohol pads. Then he measured and cut the gauze, seeking out tape from the kit.

"Hmmm. I think we'll have to tape a ring around your upper thigh to keep this on."

Niou's fingers were careful, unrolling the medical tape. Marui shifted a little uncomfortably as Niou's fingers just barely grazed his balls. Flushing, he sat up and scooted away. "All better. Uh, thank you."

Blushing? Niou's face looked just a little red too, and he didn't meet Marui's eyes for a moment as they stood. "Food." Niou turned, sticking his hands into his pockets, rat tail swinging.

Marui followed, feeling stupid, still limping a little to ease the slight pain of his knee.

"What's up with your blood sugar anyway?" Niou asked, then gripped Marui's hand to pull him into a side hall, pretending to fiddle with a locker while footsteps approached, passed.

"Maybe my size," Marui said, and then they tiptoed onward. He felt a little silly, like he was suddenly part of Niou's ninja fantasy. "Why are we sneaking anyway?"

"Because nobody should see us as we go steal food, of course!" Niou grinned and tugged him onward. They got to the kitchen door and Niou tugged a set of keys from his pocket, opening it.

"-- Whoa."

"Yeah. Don't tell."

"I won't tell -- for a price," Marui said.

Niou snorted. "I'm completely unbribeable. Any dirt you have on me, I can get on you, and worse." They entered the half-lit kitchen, and Niou made a beeline to the shelves stacked with cookies. "You like macaroons, eh?"

Marui practically flew over, face alight as he glomped onto Niou's back. "Yeah! My favorite."

They filled up a plastic shopping bag with stolen treats, making sure to rearrange the shelves to keep them from looking too empty. "But where are we gonna eat all this? Buchou will confiscate it if we go back to the locker room."

"Roof."

"You have a key?"

"Oh yeah."

*

Marui was almost asleep next to an empty plastic bag. He was warm in the sun, full, and exhausted after a long day of practice. Niou idled nearby, leaning against a wall.

"You comfortable like that? Here. You can lie on my leg."

"You just want my face in your crotch," Marui snorted, but complied. Niou's thigh was pretty muscular, he noticed as he curled onto his side away from said crotch, staring down to a furry knee.

Niou tugged Marui's hair. "Why would I want your face in my crotch? More hentai thoughts?"

"No!" Marui's face turned red again and he was glad he was facing away from Niou.

"Seems like your mind's pretty far in the gutter today. Are you finally becoming a teeeeeenager?" Niou's tone was teasing and light, and his fingers settled into Marui's hair to give it a little pet.

Mm, that felt nice. Something new, nobody ever really petted his hair before. "Why're you being so nice to me anyhow? Don't you have Yagyuu to fuss over?"

"Cause I like your ass."

"WHAT?" Marui sat up, hiding his bottom by scooting against the wall.

Niou howled with laugher at the response, clutching his belly. "Ahhhh...you bought it, didn't you."

"You bastard," Marui muttered, huddling with his arms around his legs. "Shuddup."

Niou scooted close and tugged Marui into a snuggle. "Nah. Maybe I just like hanging out with you. You're so teasable..."

Eh? Marui's cheeks flushed again. Niou sure was being strange, not that it felt bad to rest against his shoulder. Marui snuggled down the tiniest bit, sighing as the summer heat and the warmth of Niou's body made him instantly sleepy.

"Hey hey, you aren't supposed to get sleepy if I hug you," Niou poked him.

"Stop that," Marui said sleepily, then sank down to Niou's lap again. "Mm. Stop moving. I want a nap."

Niou stared down, and the mask of his face slipped for just a moment, his eyes going gentle. "Rest. You worked hard today." His fingers settled into Marui's hair again, little tiny strokes, relaxing him utterly.

Marui's eyes drifted shut.

Then, Marui felt the pressure of something warm and soft against his lips. He froze for a second in surprise, and then made a tiny noise as the sideways kiss increased just a little in pressure. His face flushed again, body zinging as if it was all being kissed, and his fingers found their way to Niou's hair.

The long moment of soft lip to soft lip seemed to spin on and on, and Marui heard his breath begin to rasp in his ear when Niou straightened back up and away.

Marui's eyes met his in a confused question, but the veil was back up over Niou's expression.

"Sleep," Niou said, looking away. His face was flushed.

It was easier to run from confusion than to face it. Closing his eyes, lips still tingling, Marui let himself fall into slumber.

It wasn't entirely Marui's fault that his dreams held nothing but kisses.