Warning: I couldn't read all the handwritten kanji, since a lot of them were super chicchai--but, er, I guess it sort of doesn't matter, since I'm rewriting it anyway. ^_^" Also, I wrote this in LiveJournal, and reading things out of Semagic gives me a headache, so there was absolutely no checking done on this.
Part 1: Odd dogs around here...
Gakuto--blinked, as Shishido's shirt came off. "Ge-ez!" Practice had been rough, today, but not that rough--Shishido's body was patched all over with these really ugly, red scrapes. Some of 'em pretty big, too. There was this one big blotch, just under his ribs, almost the size of Gakuto's fist, pretty much, an' lots of smaller ones, all over his arms, one even on his face. (Yeah, they'd seen that one, but it was just a little thing compared to some of the monster wounds he had on his body.) They all knew he'd been doing some kind of training, but sheesh--wrestling with bears or pitbulls just wasn't going to get him back onto the tennis team... "You look like someone stuck you into a blender--what's with all these fresh wounds?"
Shishido just looked at him, and turned around to keep right on changing. Well, being ignored was sort of better than having someone chuck things at your head.
Kind of a pity, almost--Shishido might've been a drama queen, but he had nice skin, for a guy who didn't do anything with it. Not that Gakuto cared, but a little lotion would've fixed him right up--well, before he'd decided to turn himself into roadkill. And Gakuto had to give the guy credit--he wasn't moaning about all the scrapes, either. Though he did make a really whiny little "Hey, that hurts!" sound when Gakuto reached out and poked at one. What, he was curious--they weren't very deep (dogs or bears would've probably taken bigger chunks out of him, Gakuto'd seen Zagat's scars in Street Fighter, and he figured that if anyone took bites like that out of Shishido, there just wasn't gonna be any of him left) it looked like, but geez. Why the Hell would anyone do that to themselves...?
Gakuto blinked. But seriously, though. Sure, there were a bunch of scrapes--angry, red things with that ugly black scabby coating--but there was just that one...
Ootori--cute thing that he was--frowned a little, and raised a finger. Probably to defend Shishido. He looked... well, pretty defensive. Ootori got defensive about a lot of things--Atobe said that that was because Ootori just didn't know how to pick his fights. Oshitari said that that was because Ootori seriously needed to get fucked--but Oshitari said that about a lot of people. (He was probably right about a lot of them, too...)
"You can't even imagine the training that he's been through with me these past couple of weeks!" his voice was a little louder than normal (well, that didn't mean much, but Gakuto blinked a little; their sweet pet, 'Tori, actually speaking up about something rather than, well, just blinking and looking defensive?) "He's really been amazing!"
Gakuto... blinked. Training. Okay, so maybe Shishido HAD been training with dogs or... something. "Then what the Hell is that red bite mark on the back of his neck?"
Ootori's mouth gaped open, and snapped closed. Then open. Closed, again. Huh. Gakuto'd never seen a fish with silver hair before (okay, he'd never seen a fish with hair before) but the way his mouth was flapping open and closed... "Well, um, that's a pressure point to increase the strength of one's legs, and, uh, hips--"
Heh. Shishido might've been full of wounds--but evidently he could still whack Ootori one on the back of the head pretty well.
Okay. Gakuto knew he wasn't the brightest koi in the pond (even though Oshitari always gave him that look whenever he told Gakuto that and Gakuto exclaimed "I'm the prettiest, though!") but even he could tell when Ootori was lying. For one--the boy was just not any good at it. And for another... seriously. Legs and hips? What kind of pressure point increased the strength of legs and hips? If there was such a thing, everyone would have funny marks on the back of their necks, even if they looked like.. well, kind of like hickeys.
Hey, was Shishido... actually blushing?
Okay, Gakuto would admit to being a little dense sometimes, but hey, he knew how to bring it all together when Ootori was looking at him with eyes that were just a little too wide and Shishido was rummaging through his locker just a little too violently with his cheeks a brilliant flaming red.
Legs. Hips. Bite marks. Yeah, now that Gakuto had a better look at it and could stare at the back of Shishido's neck all he wanted, that definitely was a bite mark--the kind you got when someone wrapped her--or his--lips around a patch of skin and went su-uck.
Hell. Oh, shi-it, okay, maybe Oshitari was wrong about Ootori needing to get some--maybe he already was.
Training with Ootori. Ri-ight. Who sometimes looked at their little drama queen Shishido like he was a ten-course meal at the best kaiseki-ryouri restaurant in Kyouto.
Well, damn. Gakuto couldn't help but grin, shaking his head.
Some 'training,' all right.
Oh, man, this was just going to be so much fun...
Part 2: -Choutarou tte?- (You said -Choutarou?-)
Shishido winced, a little, at the click of the clubroom door behind them. Damn it, the little acrobatic twit was following them--he'd really hoped that Gakuto needed to stay in there for at least a little longer to wax his legs, or something.
Shishido reached around to rub the back of his neck with more than a little irritation. He couldn't feel it--it wasn't like his wounds, and it didn't hurt--and he always forgot it was there... well, mostly because he was used to having something covering it whenever he got one. Seriously, it wasn't like he hadn't enjoyed getting the thing (ma-an, there was nothing like the feeling of Ootori whimpering and nibbling at the back of his neck like that) but seriously, with his short hair, the hickey that Ootori had given him was a lot more obvious now than it had been when his hair had been long!
He'd have to tell Ootori--no more hickeys. At least not where anyone could see them. Well... if he remembered, the next time. (The Hell, it was so annoying how every resolution he ever had went flying out of his head when those hands were on him.) And with his luck, Hell, Ootori would just slide down his body anyway to put hickeys on the insides of his thighs, or just south of his belly button, right under the band of his boxers, or something--
Wait, that wasn't a bad thing.
Well, whatever. They'd deal with it later--they had a game to head to anyway. "No bets today, 'kay?" he raised a finger at Ootori. Who was still half-smiling in that cute, dangerous way that he had sometimes. Well, at least Shishido wasn't blushing anymore--that was the only good part about all this. Geez, it was damned annoying to blush in front of that irritating Mukahi, who asked too many questions, anyway--
He was really getting to hate that voice. Maybe if he ignored him, Mukahi would just fall into an anthill or something.
"I've been wondering--how come you call Ootori by his first name?"
ohfuck. The little bastard really had some kind of a twisted gift for picking the worst questions. Ever.
And bloody HELL, Shishido could feel his cheeks hitting the panic button and setting off every bright-red alarm through his face. Geez, he was blushing again. Harder than ever. What was up with this, he never blushed, but...
Ootori was just blinking down at him, wide-eyed with innocence. Ri-ight. Geez, "Shishido-san... why is your face all red?"
It would have cracked him up, really, sort of--if Ootori wasn't the only one covering for them. Hell, he really needed to do something about the way he blushed... and the weird part about all this, well, was that Ootori really didn't seem to find any of this embarrassing. (Which was weird, because he really did blush like a peach every time sex came up in the locker room--damned cute, but still!) Hell, Choutarou didn't seem to find snuggling in public embarrassing, and it was freakin' irritating when he wrapped an arm around Shishido's shoulders and just leaned into him like that, as if he was about to tell him a secret, but Shishido was pretty sure no-one told any secrets against someone's neck...
"When'd you start?"
No, Mukahi had most definitely not just asked the question that Shishido thought he had. He normally drew the line at whacking people who were smaller than he was, but for Mukahi Gakuto prying into his and Ootori's private life, he was willing to make an exception-- "Heh?!" Maybe he hadn't heard the question right. He couldn't see the little twit's face--he just didn't want to turn around, frankly, because it was a damned lot easier to hide the colour of his face when he had his back to the brat--but Gakuto was not asking when he and Choutarou had started--
"Like I said. When'd you start calling him 'Choutarou?'"
Aw, Hell, that wasn't any better than the question that he'd thought Mukahi'd been asking.
Hell, it was almost the same thing. This blush was just never going to leave his cheeks.
Shishido turned, just a little, as he felt a chin resting on his shoulder--well, that was better than having Ootori pretending to share tennis secrets against the too-frickin'-sensitive joining of his neck and his shoulder... except Ootori was just way, way too close, his eyes luminous and almost gold in the late afternoon. Damn it, why'd his partner have to be just so pretty that it made his chest do that weird dokidoki thing he'd only ever thought existed in bad yaoi doujinshi (he'd never READ one, of course, but if there was a girl sitting next to him in the subway, and it was open on her lap, what else was he supposed to do on the long trip home?) "That's a good question--when did you start calling me 'Choutarou,' Shishido-san?"
Oh, no, Ootori was just not getting out of this one. "Hey, it was you that--"
Shishido clamped his mouth shut as the memories slammed into his belly, and he bit his lip. God. Oh, yeah, he remembered--remembered the coarse denim of Ootori's jeans, remembered the cool metal of the button and how it'd felt so weird against the back of his hand when he'd wrapped his fingers around the heat of his partner's throbbing cock, the tiniest drip of wet on Shishido's fingers before he'd bent down to lick it off. Remembered the weird, burning ache of long, graceful fingers moving inside him for the first time, wet and slick with the baby oil that they'd used before then for backrubs after bad practices--and oh, man, when the ache hadn't been an ache anymore, but something like a stab of pleasure, so good he'd heard himself whimper whenever Ootori slipped those talented fingers into him again... (And if Ootori ever reminded him that he whimpered, he'd just have to damn well remind Ootori that he screamed. Shishido's name, at that.)
And, oh, yeah, he remembered his knees tucked up almost to his chest, Ootori's arm wrapped around him and the fingers of one of Shishido's hands twining with those long, violinist fingers. He'd had his partner up behind him, and sure, it was kind of embarrassing being shorter, but just at that moment, with Ootori being at just the right height that Shishido could turn his head to grab those sleek lips he'd been biting at earlier that afternoon... it meant that Ootori was just the right height to kiss Shishido when he slid into him. Yeah, there'd been pain, at first--like with the fingers, but worse--but he'd expected that, and God, his sweetheart had been inside him, just rocking into him with little motions of his hips, slow, slow, slow... and he'd have taken any kind of pain for that kind of closeness--and to feel Ootori panting against his open mouth, little incoherent noises of pleasure from his partner's lips. Still, though, it'd hurt, and he'd broken from Ootori's kiss to squeeze his eyes shut, a little.
'Are you okay, Shishido-san?' Ootori had paused, Of course Ootori had asked--he wouldn't have been Ootori if he hadn't.
"Oh, yeah," he'd opened his eyes to lean his head back against the strong, pale shoulder behind him, grinning into a worried gaze whose dark mahogany had been even darker, hot and bright. Damn, to put that look in his eyes. Shishido had licked his lips, slowly, and scrambled for words--damn, he hadn't been able to believe, almost, that Ootori was all the way inside him, he'd never thought that he could feel so... so full... "Couldn't be better."
And then Ootori had rocked his hips, and that same spot that had made him whimper when those fingers had just brushed against it, so lightly, inside him-- had ripped heat through his blood and made him moan, a little, clenching tight. He wasn't normally a noisy person, even if the team called a drama queen, so it was kind of funny when he thought about it and remembered how noises just wouldn't stop coming out of his mouth when he was riding his partner. God. God, he'd known it would be good, just 'cause they were good together, an' sex or lovemaking or whatever anyone wanted to call it wasn't any different--but he hadn't had a clue, that first time, just how good-- "Damn... Ootori..." he'd purred.
"Ah...." Ootori, behind him, had kissed his neck-- then nibbled. God, he loved the nibbles. Even if they did leave funny marks on him when Ootori got a little too excited. Which was, well, like every time. "If... if you call me by my first name, Shishido-san... I'll make it even better for you..."
And he'd honestly thought it couldn't be better. (Well, that just went to show how much he'd known, then...) They'd waited too long, played around and touched and explored too much--Ootori's mouth wrapped around him and the sight of his eyes half-closed as he suckled lightly on the head of him had been too much earlier, and with all the heat and sweetness and the violin-calluses on Ootori's left hand rubbing perfectly there just under the ridge of his cock, he'd been just about to shatter, as it was. "Damn it... stop it, Ootori--" he'd wanted to make their first time last a good long time, take it slow, but-- well, nothing ever really went the way he'd thought it would, with his Ootori--no, his Choutarou.
He'd figured that out long before Ootori had nudged his knees just a little further apart, pulled them a little tighter to his chest, and just damned well pinpointed the spot that had been driving him absolutely friggin' mad whenever he'd just brushed against it.
Well, okay, so Shishido screamed, a little, too. Ootori's name. Ootori's first name, the first time he'd ever used it. Still. He only screamed sometimes.
The realisation that the body pressed against his back was wearing a Hyotei jersey, which was making the weird 'shh-shh' that the material always made whenever it brushed against another jersey (the one on HIM) snapped him back to the present. And made him very, very glad that he was turned away from a certain too-frickin'-nosy acrobatic doubles player, because damned if his shorts didn't hide his hard-on at all.
"There's no need to worrry, Shishido-san..." Ootori whispered, just behind his ear, and his body was too warm as he nuzzled against Shishido's ear, those too-familiar fingers splayed over the back of his neck. "Just leave it to me..."
Nope. The innocent thing really just had to be an act. Because he could definitely feel that familiar bulge in those pants pressed against the small of his back. Bloody Hell, he had a paper to write, but--"Choutarou!"
Leave it to him? Yeah, that was kind of what Shishido was afraid of.
Neither of them had answered the question, yeah--or, at least, not answered the question all the way. There was just no way that answer was ever coming out of his mouth. But at least Mukahi looked kind of nauseated by all the snugging that Ootori was doing, and Shishido managed just one moment of smugness yeah, well, that's what happens when you ask questions you don't really wanna know the answer to! before he let Ootori tug him away.
plus yes I get a definite pleasure out of torturing Shishido. *sweatdrop*
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