(Untitled)
JE RARE PAIR ANONYMEME.
(Style shamelessly ripped and edited from shichihenge's smut meme. Love you bb ( Read more... )
(Style shamelessly ripped and edited from shichihenge's smut meme. Love you bb ( Read more... )
He braces for an elbow in the gut. Yara's reaction, though, is unexpected; he hisses, "Tighter," fingernails digging into Yamamoto's arm, but with no intention of prying him off. Yamamoto, suddenly full of goosebumps, tries to drop back but Yara's grip is tight and they end up sprawled on the floor.
"...idiot," Yara chuckles.
Yamamoto sits up. He looks at Yara's smile from upside down, eyes narrowing. "What?"
Yara rolls onto his stomach, propping his jaw up in a palm, eyes half-lidded. "You're never going to beat me if you don't learn to listen." His pale fore-wedge of hair trails down to one cheek, and Yamamoto's hand twitches with an odd want to brush it away. He chews on the edge of his thumb instead. "What did I say?" Yara asks.
Distracted, Yamamoto takes a moment to answer. And then another moment to make sense of it. It doesn't work. "...'tighter'?" He frowns at the irritation of feeling stupid like Senga.
"Right," Yara says, and casually pulls Yamamoto's hand away from his mouth. Only to bring it to his own, tongue tracking lightly over the reddened teeth marks. For two seconds Yamamoto forgets about air; a moment later he gasps as his heart starts up again and Yara's eyes dart to his mouth at the sound.
"What..." Yamamoto licks his dry lips, conscious of Yara's sharp eyes now, "...did you mean by that?" The potential I was trying to kill you! irritation doesn't surface.
"I wonder," Yara hums noncomitally around the answer, instead sliding closer up Yamamoto's torso, effortless and kind of mesmerising like the sharks and snakes he's partial to. Yamamoto finds himself leaning back, back, back until he's on the floor again, staring up. At Yara.
"Don't you think it feels good," Yara says in paper tones as he draws two fingers from the hollow of Yamamoto's throat, up, up and tips his chin back, "to lose your breath?" Dance is like that, to him. Going and going, hitting and pumping 'til your throat's raw. 'Til it hurts so much to breathe you almost don't want to anymore and you're gasping while your lungs scream. The dizziness; that rush...
Yamamoto frowns his incomprehension.
"Don't make such a stupid face," Yara chides, chuckling. He leans down, resting his forehead against Yamamoto's, acting all casual while they share air and no little space. Yamamoto's heart beats in threes. "You'll remind me of your bandmates at a bad time."
That, at least, Yamamoto gets. He snickers, eyes half-lidding. "And that'd suck."
"Naturally," Yara snerks, and kisses him.
There's nothing dainty about the way that happens between them either; Yara's rough with tongue and teeth, dominating Yamamoto's mouth until the flames in Yamamoto's chest catch, spreading, and he's groaning, biting Yara back. His nails dig in, flanking Yara's spine with cresents through his thin practice tee.
Yara growls and shoves his arms away, fighting Yamamoto's wrists to the floor trying to pin him. Butterfly-cornered, Yamamoto fights back. He hooks a leg around Yara's, flips them; Yara lets him. Surprised, hands splayed on Yara's chest, Yamamoto takes a pause to catch his breath-
"Don't do that," Yara chuckles, teasing. And pinches Yamamoto's nose.
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