FIC: Various fandoms
A few weeks back I did a little comment fic meme in which I asked my flist for prompts. Here's what came of it. Strangely enough, mostly smut. Or at least, attempts at smut. And all of them exploded because I fail at short & simple.
Many, many thanks to kentucka, who once again saved the world from my atrocious punctuation. ♥
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the series or their characters. Not making any money. For spare time entertainment only.
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Title: What you deserve is what you get
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairings/Characters: 1859
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 843 words
Prompt: Hibari and Gokudera. Fucking on the beach.
For andreaphobia who I strongly suspect was just indulging me with that prompt because she knows how much I love these two. ♥
~*~*~
Gokudera would never actively blame the Tenth for anything. Ever. Except, a tiny part of his mind might have currently been inclined to admit that this could in fact, loosely though as it was, be traced back to their boss.
The Tenth had an odd way of forcing someone to take a day off. He hadn't really said anything but Hibari had appeared out of the blue and had basically dragged Gokudera out to the car by his tie.
Well, as a matter of fact, he had done exactly that. Including the tie-grabbing. And then Hibari had sped off with Gokudera thrashing in the passenger seat and threatening to murder fucking everyone.
Needless to say it had little effect on the Cloud guardian.
The next thing he knew he had found himself at the beach of a small bay he would have probably found picturesque under different circumstances, with Hibari on top of him doing things with his fingers inside Gokudera's ass that should be illegal. And hence, Gokudera couldn't be arsed to care about the fucking scenery. He also didn't think he would seriously be able to file this as 'vacation time' later.
"Shit," Gokudera spat, wriggled, gasped, and eventually decided that the beach tasted awful, "wait-... Just let me-... Fuck! I have sand in my fucking mouth."
"Then shut it," Hibari said, his usual I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass-if-you're-uncomfortable self. His fingers also happened to curl slightly upward and Gokudera accidentally swallowed what felt like half a sand castle in a choked breath.
He coughed and gagged, sticking out his tongue and frantically trying to remove all remaining traces of sand. "Goddammit! This was the worst idea ever. Why did I agree to this?" He cut Hibari off before the smirk on his face could get meaningful enough to fill entire volumes, "On second thought, don't answer that."
Gokudera tugged at Hibari's sleeve and it was fortunate that whenever they didn't insult each other they had a very convenient sort of non-verbal communication going on. It manifested by Hibari withdrawing his fingers - and Gokudera would rather cut off his tongue than admit that he had been enjoying them - and hoisting Gokudera up onto his lap.
"Fucking sand," Gokudera grumbled, dusting himself off as best as he could, "I swear to God, we are never doing this again. I don't even know how anyone could think of this as roma- ah!"
Indeed, this part had absolutely nothing to do with 'romantic'. Hibari thrust up, throwing Gokudera off balance and thus ending up with an armful of helplessly panting Storm guardian. At this point it didn't even annoy Gokudera anymore that Hibari was still in his shirt and slacks. At least that gave him something to hold on to.
Or tear, as it turned out, but Gokudera didn't care and Hibari either didn't notice or considered fucking the hell out of him a reasonable reparation.
It was sweaty, and bold, and greedy, and Gokudera would probably never get rid of the vague feeling of having sand up his ass but it was most definitely the best I-will-bite-you-dead/shove-a-stick-of-dynamite-down-your-pants sex this beach had ever seen.
"You owe me a shirt," Hibari stated later on, demonstratively glancing down at the gaping hole where his sleeve should have been attached to the rest of his shirt.
"You owe me a fucking everything, asshole," Gokudera pointed at the heap of his own clothing which was not only covered in sand but also wet because the tide had rolled in while they had been otherwise occupied.
Hibari shrugged, "Not my fault. You tossed it over there."
Gokudera held up his dripping wet, sand-covered pants like a bill of indictment. "What the fuck am I supposed to wear now? The sun's setting already. Shit's never gonna dry in time."
If Hibari gave a crap at all it didn't show. He wandered over to the car and didn't even care to turn around. "I don't know but your naked ass is not touching my leather seats."
"What?" Gokudera flung the pair of pants aside and stalked up to Hibari, "You are not fucking leaving me standing naked on the beach, you fucking-" He stopped to think of an appropriate swear word but came up empty in any other language than Italian, "stronzo!"
"Oh? Won't I?" Hibari's smile had the distinct air of something that ate raw flesh and crushed bones with its teeth. But at this particular point the prospect of being found wandering naked across the shore was much more terrifying than any of Hibari's threats. He could lose a limb or two but not his dignity.
And so Gokudera wrenched the passenger door open and jumped in before Hibari could react.
It worked. Except for the fact that Hibari made him sit in the backseat on the floor for the rest of the ride home.
This was so going into the books as damages for pain and suffering.
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Title: Paper trail
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairings/Characters: 1880
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 1,436 words
Prompt: 8018: Porn. In an inappopriate place. Which my brain translated to: Handjob in a library. IDEK.
Warnings: Creative use of tonfa as a gag.
For imadra_blue who does this pairing so much better. But I tried. XD
~*~*~
This is not a bet. It's not a bet because Hibari doesn't do bets and hence Yamamoto can't possibly lose one. It's an arrangement. Yamamoto knows because it took two witnesses, twelve pages and some fine print to set it up. Plus, Kusakabe keeps an extra copy... well, wherever it is that Kusakabe keeps Hibari's stuff.
So, Yamamoto hasn't lost a bet and in all honesty, it doesn't feel like it anyway.
"Sharpie," Hibari commands and Yamamoto obediently digs through his backpack to produce one. It's been like this for the better part of the week but somehow Yamamoto still can't bring himself to regret not losing this bet. Which it isn't. It says so on page one of the contract, right underneath their names.
They are in the library and Hibari is quietly working on the recent updates to the school house rules while Yamamoto is rocking back and forth on his chair. He flops forward and almost knocks his head on the desk when Hibari puts his foot against the chair.
"Stop that," he snarls, gaze still trained on the papers in front of him.
"Uh, sorry, Hibari," Yamamoto apologises and for a while manages to sit perfectly still. But the sun is shining and he can hear the baseball club training on the field and the birds singing in the near-summer heat. He wants to go outside, enjoy the warm breeze on the roof with Hibari; or hit home-runs and cheer with his team mates, or go down to the river and throw stones into the water to scare the fish.
But he lost the bet that isn't and formally vowed to cater to Hibari's every whim for an entire week. Not that being by Hibari's side practically 24/7 is so bad; it's just that he is really not good at remaining in one spot for too long. He earnestly tries but Hibari swats his fingers with an unnecessarily thick book.
"Ow!" Yamamoto clutches his hand to his chest and pouts, "What was that for?"
Hibari points at the desk with his ball pen, "Fingers. Table. Noise."
Yamamoto works his knuckles and sends an apologetic look around the library. There aren't too many students around but Gokudera is seated two desks over and his glare easily counts for three.
"Sorry," Yamamoto mumbles and proceeds to rub his aching hand.
A moment later Hibari shoves a torn piece of paper into his face. "Bring me this book."
Yamamoto goes cross-eyed for a second before snatching the note and squinting at it from a more suitable distance. "Tottori Matsumoto, 'Introduction to Education Law', revised edition, 2011-"
"Don't read it, get it."
"Okay," Yamamoto beams - finally something to do, "be right back."
He finds the 'T' section quick enough but Tottori-sensei seems to be missing. He is going over the rack once more with his finger sliding along the spines for good measure when something bumps into him with great accuracy and presses him into the shelf.
In a heartbeat Hibari's lips are on his neck, his breath emphasising the stuffy heat in the library.
"Ah! Hibari-," there is probably more Yamamoto wants to say but Hibari's hand is in his pants and his forehead hits the bookshelf without him even noticing.
Hibari runs his fingers over Yamamoto's cock underneath more fabric than Yamamoto can currently bear. Sweat is running down his temples almost immediately because summer is close and Hibari is even closer. And what Hibari does with his hand is quickly reducing Yamamoto to a puddle of sweaty want.
"Quiet," Hibari manhandles him around and exhibits the kind of intent smirk that Yamamoto likes to see so much before battles, "this is a library."
Yamamoto chuckles, a little breathless, but doesn't argue. How can he? Hibari is right and this is deliciously inappropriate. Yamamoto may not be the brightest crayon in the box but this much he knows: sex in a library equals a lot of trouble if one gets caught.
So, he tries his best to not make a sound but it's difficult when Hibari pushes his summer shorts down and starts rubbing their erections together. He can feel Hibari's hard-on through his trousers and wonders how the prefect can still stand despite all this heat pressing down on both of them.
The answer is: barely - if the urgency with which Hibari yanks off Yamamoto's briefs and unbuckles his own belt is any indication.
"Hibari, maybe we should-"
"Shut up or I'll make it two weeks." Hibari brings them back together, damp shirts crumpled between them.
Yamamoto contemplates taking Hibari up on the dare but when he opens his mouth he lets out an obscenely loud moan instead of a bold comeback. He didn't think it would count but apparently Hibari does consider it a punishable slip and Yamamoto promptly has a tonfa between his teeth.
"Hrnph?" is all he can manage with the rapidly warming steel in the way.
Hibari owes him a proper reply and simply presents him with a pleased smirk while he takes both their dicks in hand and begins to stroke. It's slippery and too hot and too fast but Yamamoto can't find it in himself to complain. He grabbles for the nearest solid object, which turns out to be a stack of books, and sends them tumbling to the floor.
He grins around the tonfa and probably looks like a dog bearing its teeth. Well, he is - a little.
Hibari pins him against the shelves and rocks their bodies together like he doesn't give a damn about the heat and how it unbalances them. Yamamoto is in awe but he can't voice his appreciation, which is frustrating and thrilling all at once.
It must look pretty dumb to everyone on the other side; the racks wobbling like this and random books occasionally dropping from their designated place. Yamamoto just prays that nobody needs anything from the 'T' section right now because he's not sure Hibari will have his back on this. He has everything else Yamamoto has to offer though.
The front of Hibari's usually neat shirt is drenched and Yamamoto guesses he looks no different himself but they keep going. They can't stop unless they both want to walk out of here with uncomfortable hard-ons. So it's a real blessing that Yamamoto feels the familiar haze of orgasm approaching, amplified by the stale heat and the sweat and the way the tonfa digs into the corners of his mouth.
He grabs Hibari's arm but not to tug it away; he simply needs something to hold on to that will not falter.
Hibari's hand travels back and forth, slipping and sliding uncontrollably. He bites down on Yamamoto's neck and that is entirely too much for Yamamoto's shaky self-control.
Yamamoto bucks his hips desperately to catch even the last bits of his climax while he clings to Hibari with all his might.
When Hibari reluctantly removes the tonfa Yamamoto sags back against the shelf, waiting for his surroundings to stop spinning. He inspects his nether regions and notices with some satisfaction (which will soon turn into embarrassment) that Hibari has left more than teeth marks on him.
"I'm gonna have to go shirtless for the rest of the day," he muses as he does up his shorts, and if there's a bemused twinkle in Hibari's eyes it's hopefully not just Yamamoto's imagination.
Hibari doesn't look any better but he manages to carry the stains like badges of honour. Well, he has the advantage of having Kusakabe come down with a clean shirt - something Yamamoto is not so lucky to have and so he goes ahead and loses his shirt altogether.
Since it's ruined anyway he uses it to clean up as best as he can.
"Uh, Hibari?" Yamamoto hesitantly rubs down the row of books that have so graciously provided much needed support. They have a distinctly more second hand look now.
"Do you think anybody will want to read Tolstoi in the near future?"
Hibari peers at the smudges of sweat and possibly other bodily fluids and flicks his cell phone open.
"Tetsu," Hibari announces and smacks Yamamoto over the head for dispersing the specks even further, "bring a fresh shirt, disinfectant, and a new copy of Tolstoi to the library."
He musters Yamamoto.
"Make that two shirts."
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Title: Keep your hands inside the game
Fandom: Ao no Exorcist
Pairings/Characters: Bon/Rin
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 838 words
Prompt: Rin/Bon: Porn. In an inappopriate place. LOL That is indeed a pattern. Since I was free to choose: Sex in a hospital bed.
For imadra_blue because I was on a roll. XD
~*~*~
The others are next door; he can hear their voices, obnoxious and loud, which is just as well because like this nobody will hear the embarrassing noises Bon is making.
He can't believe this is fucking happening. This is the infirmary, for God's sake. People are supposed to rest and heal in peace in here and not... not do this.
"Ow!" Bon curses and immediately clasps a hand over his mouth, eyeing the door in panic. But he can't really be blamed because having Rin's palms dig into the ribs that are already bruised as it is isn't exactly pleasant.
"Watch where you put your damned hands, jerk," he hisses and grabs Rin's wrists. The stupid little devil at least has the decency to look apologetic, which is quite a feat considering he is half-naked and grinding down on Bon's cock. It also makes thinking rather difficult, Bon notices.
He feels like he should stay on top of things here - well, technically, he figures he still is - but somehow Rin has been the driving force since he crawled onto Bon's bed and started doing things. With his tongue, and with his hands, and God help him this accursed tail of his.
It took a while to get used to this additional part of Rin's physique but by now Bon is so intimately familiar with it he gets a hard-on in the middle of class just thinking about it. He hopes with all his might that Rin is not aware of this because he wouldn't put it past the little twerp to use it as blackmail material.
Which won't matter anyway if they get caught and that might be sooner rather than later if they continue to pant and gasp like this. Underneath them the whole bedstead is creaking and Bon has half a mind to worry about what might happen if they broke it.
So far it's holding out though - which is more than can be said about Bon's self-restraint. He almost chokes on his own stuttering breath when he watches Rin's tail sneak around to the front where Rin suddenly bites down on it and, alright, that has got to hurt. But then again, Rin doesn't look like he minds all that much and besides, Bon is kind of doing the same with his knuckles.
He will have his own teeth marks on his hand for days to come and he can't even blame Rin for it because he could have easily used the pillow to stifle his moans but his mind is too far gone for logical thought. Oh sod it, he'll blame it on Rin anyway. And if the doctors ask him why his injuries got worse instead of better he'll tell them to go ask fucking Rin Okumura about it.
Right now Bon doesn't give a damn about what anybody thinks of them. Admittedly, he's not thinking much of anything; just how warm Rin is and how he moves and how the pressure is just right and Holy fucking shit! It takes more self-control than he currently has to keep quiet when he comes.
He wants to cry out, fucking blurt out Rin's damned name all over the place but he can't and so it turns into a pathetic whine that only makes it past his hand because he still has to breathe somehow.
Rin isn't much better off though, which is a bit of a consolation. The tail between his teeth is glistening with saliva and twitches in an unsteady rhythm as if trying to escape until it goes stock-still while the rest of Rin crashes over an orgasm that rivals Bon's.
"Shit!" Bon swears through gritted teeth as soon as he feels comfortable using his voice for anything other than wild moaning. "Will you look at that damned mess? How am I supposed to explain this to the nurse?"
He can't see Rin's face because it is buried in the crook of his shoulder but he imagines Rin looks pretty spent. He certainly sounds like it.
"Er... tell her you jerked off?" Rin gives a lazy shrug, "We're teenagers. It's normal."
Bon is ready to unleash a proper scolding when Rin suddenly scrambles up and winces. He holds his tail and carefully inspects the damage, "That's gonna leave a dent."
And this is basically where Bon realises he's the stupid shit in here because he reaches out and awkwardly pets Rin's tail where he assumes it's safe to touch. He pointedly stares at the nightstand though.
He can still see the grin starting to form on Rin's face from the corner of his eye.
"Oh get the fuck out of here, Okumura," Bon mumbles because he has a reputation to keep up, "and get that looked at. God knows what you might catch from that bite."
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Title: Everything that could possibly go wrong
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Pairings/Characters: Barnaby/Kotetsu
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 861 words
Prompt: Barnaby/Kotetsu: Porn. In an inappopriate place. a.ka.: Blow job in Keith's dressing room.
For imadra_blue because who could resist such a lovely pattern?
~*~*~
There is no real explanation as to how they ended up here. Or maybe there is but Kotetsu forgot. And really, how can anyone expect him to remember the 'How' when he is busy wrapping his mind around the 'What'?
It being the fact that Bunny- No, don't call him that, Kotetsu reminds himself but he's not sure either of them actually care right now. So, Barnaby is currently propped up on his knees in front of Kotetsu and is sucking him off like it is the single most important thing to do before they die.
Hell, for all Kotetsu knows it might as well be because he is holding on to the table for dear life and there is a dog leash lying on the floor and dog treats are strewn across the dressing room from when Kotetsu knocked over the bag.
But Barnaby doesn't seem to be bothered and Kotetsu is finding it increasingly hard to give a crap as well. So what if they are doing naughty things in Keith's dressing room minutes before the show? So fucking what?
It's not like Kotetsu has a room of his own backstage because they put him with the freaking extras. Sure, they could have used Barnaby's ridiculously large quarters but once the heat of the moment had gone to their heads it was a little bit difficult to locate. And Kotetsu found out that he is horrible with directions when he has a tongue stuck down his throat. Plus, Barnaby cupping his crotch didn't help either.
All this resulted in them blindly stumbling through the first door that would open without the use of excessive force and it just happened to be Keith's room. So there. That's all there is to it and Kotetsu is giving himself about two minutes before he even forgets where he is. Because goddammit Barnaby is good at this.
The table is shaking and judging by how his knuckles are standing out white against his skin Kotetsu is about to break it in half. His palms are sweaty and his hair is a sticky mess, obscuring his sight.
He makes the mistake of letting go for a second to slick back his hair and promptly slips, accidentally hitting Barnaby in the face.
"Sorry!" Kotetsu flails, grabbling for purchase while Barnaby simply glares up at him. It's amazing how Barnaby's Stop-being-such-an-idiot glare loses none of its intensity even with Kotetsu's dick in his mouth. In fact, it may even be a bit of a turn-on.
Kotetsu finally manages to get a good grip on the table again; just in time it seems, because he can feel his thighs trembling. And Barnaby does not feel inclined to give him much time to adjust. He allows Kotetsu to slide in deeper, his lips a pleasant pressure and yet nothing, nothing compares to the wet heat inside his mouth.
And suddenly the risk of being discovered in a fellow Hero's dressing room like this is the least of his problems. He feels like his Hundred Power is activating but even in his dazed state of mind he can see that the telltale blue glow is missing. Yet he believes he can rip out trees with his bare hands, save the entire fucking world, and go down in a blaze of unprecedented glory.
Sadly, it's all just inside his head. On the outside he is whimpering because there are people outside and he expects Keith back any minute and Barnaby is so, so good.
He lets go then, leans back on his elbows and doesn't concern himself too much with who might find them or what might happen. He can think about that later. Much later. When his skin doesn't feel too tight anymore and the overpowering force of his orgasm doesn't reign in his ability to think.
Maybe he shouts Barnaby's name. Or perhaps even 'Bunny' because it's somehow ingrained in his subconscious by now but if he does Barnaby shows no signs of resentment. If anything, he looks impossibly pleased with himself when Kotetsu eventually lifts his head to assess how embarrassing it will be if Keith walks in on them now.
On a scale from 1 to 10 he gives it a solid 8.9.
He drops to the floor, limp and spent, and waits for the realisation to dawn on him that he is sitting in the middle of Keith's dressing room with his fly open and his dick out and is completely unable to move. Barnaby, on the other hand, looks like he is ready to do a signing session. It should be unsettling how well he can play the distant, unfazed beauty. It is even more disturbing how well Kotetsu can tell by now that Barnaby isn't quite as unaffected as he is trying to make the world believe.
It's the slight blush that gives Barnaby away; and the smile.
"Come on, old man," Barnaby offers his hand and Kotetsu doesn't even mind the old nickname anymore, "before you break something."
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Many, many thanks to kentucka, who once again saved the world from my atrocious punctuation. ♥
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the series or their characters. Not making any money. For spare time entertainment only.
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Title: What you deserve is what you get
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairings/Characters: 1859
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 843 words
Prompt: Hibari and Gokudera. Fucking on the beach.
For andreaphobia who I strongly suspect was just indulging me with that prompt because she knows how much I love these two. ♥
~*~*~
Gokudera would never actively blame the Tenth for anything. Ever. Except, a tiny part of his mind might have currently been inclined to admit that this could in fact, loosely though as it was, be traced back to their boss.
The Tenth had an odd way of forcing someone to take a day off. He hadn't really said anything but Hibari had appeared out of the blue and had basically dragged Gokudera out to the car by his tie.
Well, as a matter of fact, he had done exactly that. Including the tie-grabbing. And then Hibari had sped off with Gokudera thrashing in the passenger seat and threatening to murder fucking everyone.
Needless to say it had little effect on the Cloud guardian.
The next thing he knew he had found himself at the beach of a small bay he would have probably found picturesque under different circumstances, with Hibari on top of him doing things with his fingers inside Gokudera's ass that should be illegal. And hence, Gokudera couldn't be arsed to care about the fucking scenery. He also didn't think he would seriously be able to file this as 'vacation time' later.
"Shit," Gokudera spat, wriggled, gasped, and eventually decided that the beach tasted awful, "wait-... Just let me-... Fuck! I have sand in my fucking mouth."
"Then shut it," Hibari said, his usual I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass-if-you're-uncomfortable self. His fingers also happened to curl slightly upward and Gokudera accidentally swallowed what felt like half a sand castle in a choked breath.
He coughed and gagged, sticking out his tongue and frantically trying to remove all remaining traces of sand. "Goddammit! This was the worst idea ever. Why did I agree to this?" He cut Hibari off before the smirk on his face could get meaningful enough to fill entire volumes, "On second thought, don't answer that."
Gokudera tugged at Hibari's sleeve and it was fortunate that whenever they didn't insult each other they had a very convenient sort of non-verbal communication going on. It manifested by Hibari withdrawing his fingers - and Gokudera would rather cut off his tongue than admit that he had been enjoying them - and hoisting Gokudera up onto his lap.
"Fucking sand," Gokudera grumbled, dusting himself off as best as he could, "I swear to God, we are never doing this again. I don't even know how anyone could think of this as roma- ah!"
Indeed, this part had absolutely nothing to do with 'romantic'. Hibari thrust up, throwing Gokudera off balance and thus ending up with an armful of helplessly panting Storm guardian. At this point it didn't even annoy Gokudera anymore that Hibari was still in his shirt and slacks. At least that gave him something to hold on to.
Or tear, as it turned out, but Gokudera didn't care and Hibari either didn't notice or considered fucking the hell out of him a reasonable reparation.
It was sweaty, and bold, and greedy, and Gokudera would probably never get rid of the vague feeling of having sand up his ass but it was most definitely the best I-will-bite-you-dead/shove-a-stick-of-dynamite-down-your-pants sex this beach had ever seen.
"You owe me a shirt," Hibari stated later on, demonstratively glancing down at the gaping hole where his sleeve should have been attached to the rest of his shirt.
"You owe me a fucking everything, asshole," Gokudera pointed at the heap of his own clothing which was not only covered in sand but also wet because the tide had rolled in while they had been otherwise occupied.
Hibari shrugged, "Not my fault. You tossed it over there."
Gokudera held up his dripping wet, sand-covered pants like a bill of indictment. "What the fuck am I supposed to wear now? The sun's setting already. Shit's never gonna dry in time."
If Hibari gave a crap at all it didn't show. He wandered over to the car and didn't even care to turn around. "I don't know but your naked ass is not touching my leather seats."
"What?" Gokudera flung the pair of pants aside and stalked up to Hibari, "You are not fucking leaving me standing naked on the beach, you fucking-" He stopped to think of an appropriate swear word but came up empty in any other language than Italian, "stronzo!"
"Oh? Won't I?" Hibari's smile had the distinct air of something that ate raw flesh and crushed bones with its teeth. But at this particular point the prospect of being found wandering naked across the shore was much more terrifying than any of Hibari's threats. He could lose a limb or two but not his dignity.
And so Gokudera wrenched the passenger door open and jumped in before Hibari could react.
It worked. Except for the fact that Hibari made him sit in the backseat on the floor for the rest of the ride home.
This was so going into the books as damages for pain and suffering.
#-#-#-#-#
Title: Paper trail
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairings/Characters: 1880
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 1,436 words
Prompt: 8018: Porn. In an inappopriate place. Which my brain translated to: Handjob in a library. IDEK.
Warnings: Creative use of tonfa as a gag.
For imadra_blue who does this pairing so much better. But I tried. XD
~*~*~
This is not a bet. It's not a bet because Hibari doesn't do bets and hence Yamamoto can't possibly lose one. It's an arrangement. Yamamoto knows because it took two witnesses, twelve pages and some fine print to set it up. Plus, Kusakabe keeps an extra copy... well, wherever it is that Kusakabe keeps Hibari's stuff.
So, Yamamoto hasn't lost a bet and in all honesty, it doesn't feel like it anyway.
"Sharpie," Hibari commands and Yamamoto obediently digs through his backpack to produce one. It's been like this for the better part of the week but somehow Yamamoto still can't bring himself to regret not losing this bet. Which it isn't. It says so on page one of the contract, right underneath their names.
They are in the library and Hibari is quietly working on the recent updates to the school house rules while Yamamoto is rocking back and forth on his chair. He flops forward and almost knocks his head on the desk when Hibari puts his foot against the chair.
"Stop that," he snarls, gaze still trained on the papers in front of him.
"Uh, sorry, Hibari," Yamamoto apologises and for a while manages to sit perfectly still. But the sun is shining and he can hear the baseball club training on the field and the birds singing in the near-summer heat. He wants to go outside, enjoy the warm breeze on the roof with Hibari; or hit home-runs and cheer with his team mates, or go down to the river and throw stones into the water to scare the fish.
But he lost the bet that isn't and formally vowed to cater to Hibari's every whim for an entire week. Not that being by Hibari's side practically 24/7 is so bad; it's just that he is really not good at remaining in one spot for too long. He earnestly tries but Hibari swats his fingers with an unnecessarily thick book.
"Ow!" Yamamoto clutches his hand to his chest and pouts, "What was that for?"
Hibari points at the desk with his ball pen, "Fingers. Table. Noise."
Yamamoto works his knuckles and sends an apologetic look around the library. There aren't too many students around but Gokudera is seated two desks over and his glare easily counts for three.
"Sorry," Yamamoto mumbles and proceeds to rub his aching hand.
A moment later Hibari shoves a torn piece of paper into his face. "Bring me this book."
Yamamoto goes cross-eyed for a second before snatching the note and squinting at it from a more suitable distance. "Tottori Matsumoto, 'Introduction to Education Law', revised edition, 2011-"
"Don't read it, get it."
"Okay," Yamamoto beams - finally something to do, "be right back."
He finds the 'T' section quick enough but Tottori-sensei seems to be missing. He is going over the rack once more with his finger sliding along the spines for good measure when something bumps into him with great accuracy and presses him into the shelf.
In a heartbeat Hibari's lips are on his neck, his breath emphasising the stuffy heat in the library.
"Ah! Hibari-," there is probably more Yamamoto wants to say but Hibari's hand is in his pants and his forehead hits the bookshelf without him even noticing.
Hibari runs his fingers over Yamamoto's cock underneath more fabric than Yamamoto can currently bear. Sweat is running down his temples almost immediately because summer is close and Hibari is even closer. And what Hibari does with his hand is quickly reducing Yamamoto to a puddle of sweaty want.
"Quiet," Hibari manhandles him around and exhibits the kind of intent smirk that Yamamoto likes to see so much before battles, "this is a library."
Yamamoto chuckles, a little breathless, but doesn't argue. How can he? Hibari is right and this is deliciously inappropriate. Yamamoto may not be the brightest crayon in the box but this much he knows: sex in a library equals a lot of trouble if one gets caught.
So, he tries his best to not make a sound but it's difficult when Hibari pushes his summer shorts down and starts rubbing their erections together. He can feel Hibari's hard-on through his trousers and wonders how the prefect can still stand despite all this heat pressing down on both of them.
The answer is: barely - if the urgency with which Hibari yanks off Yamamoto's briefs and unbuckles his own belt is any indication.
"Hibari, maybe we should-"
"Shut up or I'll make it two weeks." Hibari brings them back together, damp shirts crumpled between them.
Yamamoto contemplates taking Hibari up on the dare but when he opens his mouth he lets out an obscenely loud moan instead of a bold comeback. He didn't think it would count but apparently Hibari does consider it a punishable slip and Yamamoto promptly has a tonfa between his teeth.
"Hrnph?" is all he can manage with the rapidly warming steel in the way.
Hibari owes him a proper reply and simply presents him with a pleased smirk while he takes both their dicks in hand and begins to stroke. It's slippery and too hot and too fast but Yamamoto can't find it in himself to complain. He grabbles for the nearest solid object, which turns out to be a stack of books, and sends them tumbling to the floor.
He grins around the tonfa and probably looks like a dog bearing its teeth. Well, he is - a little.
Hibari pins him against the shelves and rocks their bodies together like he doesn't give a damn about the heat and how it unbalances them. Yamamoto is in awe but he can't voice his appreciation, which is frustrating and thrilling all at once.
It must look pretty dumb to everyone on the other side; the racks wobbling like this and random books occasionally dropping from their designated place. Yamamoto just prays that nobody needs anything from the 'T' section right now because he's not sure Hibari will have his back on this. He has everything else Yamamoto has to offer though.
The front of Hibari's usually neat shirt is drenched and Yamamoto guesses he looks no different himself but they keep going. They can't stop unless they both want to walk out of here with uncomfortable hard-ons. So it's a real blessing that Yamamoto feels the familiar haze of orgasm approaching, amplified by the stale heat and the sweat and the way the tonfa digs into the corners of his mouth.
He grabs Hibari's arm but not to tug it away; he simply needs something to hold on to that will not falter.
Hibari's hand travels back and forth, slipping and sliding uncontrollably. He bites down on Yamamoto's neck and that is entirely too much for Yamamoto's shaky self-control.
Yamamoto bucks his hips desperately to catch even the last bits of his climax while he clings to Hibari with all his might.
When Hibari reluctantly removes the tonfa Yamamoto sags back against the shelf, waiting for his surroundings to stop spinning. He inspects his nether regions and notices with some satisfaction (which will soon turn into embarrassment) that Hibari has left more than teeth marks on him.
"I'm gonna have to go shirtless for the rest of the day," he muses as he does up his shorts, and if there's a bemused twinkle in Hibari's eyes it's hopefully not just Yamamoto's imagination.
Hibari doesn't look any better but he manages to carry the stains like badges of honour. Well, he has the advantage of having Kusakabe come down with a clean shirt - something Yamamoto is not so lucky to have and so he goes ahead and loses his shirt altogether.
Since it's ruined anyway he uses it to clean up as best as he can.
"Uh, Hibari?" Yamamoto hesitantly rubs down the row of books that have so graciously provided much needed support. They have a distinctly more second hand look now.
"Do you think anybody will want to read Tolstoi in the near future?"
Hibari peers at the smudges of sweat and possibly other bodily fluids and flicks his cell phone open.
"Tetsu," Hibari announces and smacks Yamamoto over the head for dispersing the specks even further, "bring a fresh shirt, disinfectant, and a new copy of Tolstoi to the library."
He musters Yamamoto.
"Make that two shirts."
#-#-#-#-#
Title: Keep your hands inside the game
Fandom: Ao no Exorcist
Pairings/Characters: Bon/Rin
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 838 words
Prompt: Rin/Bon: Porn. In an inappopriate place. LOL That is indeed a pattern. Since I was free to choose: Sex in a hospital bed.
For imadra_blue because I was on a roll. XD
~*~*~
The others are next door; he can hear their voices, obnoxious and loud, which is just as well because like this nobody will hear the embarrassing noises Bon is making.
He can't believe this is fucking happening. This is the infirmary, for God's sake. People are supposed to rest and heal in peace in here and not... not do this.
"Ow!" Bon curses and immediately clasps a hand over his mouth, eyeing the door in panic. But he can't really be blamed because having Rin's palms dig into the ribs that are already bruised as it is isn't exactly pleasant.
"Watch where you put your damned hands, jerk," he hisses and grabs Rin's wrists. The stupid little devil at least has the decency to look apologetic, which is quite a feat considering he is half-naked and grinding down on Bon's cock. It also makes thinking rather difficult, Bon notices.
He feels like he should stay on top of things here - well, technically, he figures he still is - but somehow Rin has been the driving force since he crawled onto Bon's bed and started doing things. With his tongue, and with his hands, and God help him this accursed tail of his.
It took a while to get used to this additional part of Rin's physique but by now Bon is so intimately familiar with it he gets a hard-on in the middle of class just thinking about it. He hopes with all his might that Rin is not aware of this because he wouldn't put it past the little twerp to use it as blackmail material.
Which won't matter anyway if they get caught and that might be sooner rather than later if they continue to pant and gasp like this. Underneath them the whole bedstead is creaking and Bon has half a mind to worry about what might happen if they broke it.
So far it's holding out though - which is more than can be said about Bon's self-restraint. He almost chokes on his own stuttering breath when he watches Rin's tail sneak around to the front where Rin suddenly bites down on it and, alright, that has got to hurt. But then again, Rin doesn't look like he minds all that much and besides, Bon is kind of doing the same with his knuckles.
He will have his own teeth marks on his hand for days to come and he can't even blame Rin for it because he could have easily used the pillow to stifle his moans but his mind is too far gone for logical thought. Oh sod it, he'll blame it on Rin anyway. And if the doctors ask him why his injuries got worse instead of better he'll tell them to go ask fucking Rin Okumura about it.
Right now Bon doesn't give a damn about what anybody thinks of them. Admittedly, he's not thinking much of anything; just how warm Rin is and how he moves and how the pressure is just right and Holy fucking shit! It takes more self-control than he currently has to keep quiet when he comes.
He wants to cry out, fucking blurt out Rin's damned name all over the place but he can't and so it turns into a pathetic whine that only makes it past his hand because he still has to breathe somehow.
Rin isn't much better off though, which is a bit of a consolation. The tail between his teeth is glistening with saliva and twitches in an unsteady rhythm as if trying to escape until it goes stock-still while the rest of Rin crashes over an orgasm that rivals Bon's.
"Shit!" Bon swears through gritted teeth as soon as he feels comfortable using his voice for anything other than wild moaning. "Will you look at that damned mess? How am I supposed to explain this to the nurse?"
He can't see Rin's face because it is buried in the crook of his shoulder but he imagines Rin looks pretty spent. He certainly sounds like it.
"Er... tell her you jerked off?" Rin gives a lazy shrug, "We're teenagers. It's normal."
Bon is ready to unleash a proper scolding when Rin suddenly scrambles up and winces. He holds his tail and carefully inspects the damage, "That's gonna leave a dent."
And this is basically where Bon realises he's the stupid shit in here because he reaches out and awkwardly pets Rin's tail where he assumes it's safe to touch. He pointedly stares at the nightstand though.
He can still see the grin starting to form on Rin's face from the corner of his eye.
"Oh get the fuck out of here, Okumura," Bon mumbles because he has a reputation to keep up, "and get that looked at. God knows what you might catch from that bite."
#-#-#-#-#
Title: Everything that could possibly go wrong
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Pairings/Characters: Barnaby/Kotetsu
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Word count: 861 words
Prompt: Barnaby/Kotetsu: Porn. In an inappopriate place. a.ka.: Blow job in Keith's dressing room.
For imadra_blue because who could resist such a lovely pattern?
~*~*~
There is no real explanation as to how they ended up here. Or maybe there is but Kotetsu forgot. And really, how can anyone expect him to remember the 'How' when he is busy wrapping his mind around the 'What'?
It being the fact that Bunny- No, don't call him that, Kotetsu reminds himself but he's not sure either of them actually care right now. So, Barnaby is currently propped up on his knees in front of Kotetsu and is sucking him off like it is the single most important thing to do before they die.
Hell, for all Kotetsu knows it might as well be because he is holding on to the table for dear life and there is a dog leash lying on the floor and dog treats are strewn across the dressing room from when Kotetsu knocked over the bag.
But Barnaby doesn't seem to be bothered and Kotetsu is finding it increasingly hard to give a crap as well. So what if they are doing naughty things in Keith's dressing room minutes before the show? So fucking what?
It's not like Kotetsu has a room of his own backstage because they put him with the freaking extras. Sure, they could have used Barnaby's ridiculously large quarters but once the heat of the moment had gone to their heads it was a little bit difficult to locate. And Kotetsu found out that he is horrible with directions when he has a tongue stuck down his throat. Plus, Barnaby cupping his crotch didn't help either.
All this resulted in them blindly stumbling through the first door that would open without the use of excessive force and it just happened to be Keith's room. So there. That's all there is to it and Kotetsu is giving himself about two minutes before he even forgets where he is. Because goddammit Barnaby is good at this.
The table is shaking and judging by how his knuckles are standing out white against his skin Kotetsu is about to break it in half. His palms are sweaty and his hair is a sticky mess, obscuring his sight.
He makes the mistake of letting go for a second to slick back his hair and promptly slips, accidentally hitting Barnaby in the face.
"Sorry!" Kotetsu flails, grabbling for purchase while Barnaby simply glares up at him. It's amazing how Barnaby's Stop-being-such-an-idiot glare loses none of its intensity even with Kotetsu's dick in his mouth. In fact, it may even be a bit of a turn-on.
Kotetsu finally manages to get a good grip on the table again; just in time it seems, because he can feel his thighs trembling. And Barnaby does not feel inclined to give him much time to adjust. He allows Kotetsu to slide in deeper, his lips a pleasant pressure and yet nothing, nothing compares to the wet heat inside his mouth.
And suddenly the risk of being discovered in a fellow Hero's dressing room like this is the least of his problems. He feels like his Hundred Power is activating but even in his dazed state of mind he can see that the telltale blue glow is missing. Yet he believes he can rip out trees with his bare hands, save the entire fucking world, and go down in a blaze of unprecedented glory.
Sadly, it's all just inside his head. On the outside he is whimpering because there are people outside and he expects Keith back any minute and Barnaby is so, so good.
He lets go then, leans back on his elbows and doesn't concern himself too much with who might find them or what might happen. He can think about that later. Much later. When his skin doesn't feel too tight anymore and the overpowering force of his orgasm doesn't reign in his ability to think.
Maybe he shouts Barnaby's name. Or perhaps even 'Bunny' because it's somehow ingrained in his subconscious by now but if he does Barnaby shows no signs of resentment. If anything, he looks impossibly pleased with himself when Kotetsu eventually lifts his head to assess how embarrassing it will be if Keith walks in on them now.
On a scale from 1 to 10 he gives it a solid 8.9.
He drops to the floor, limp and spent, and waits for the realisation to dawn on him that he is sitting in the middle of Keith's dressing room with his fly open and his dick out and is completely unable to move. Barnaby, on the other hand, looks like he is ready to do a signing session. It should be unsettling how well he can play the distant, unfazed beauty. It is even more disturbing how well Kotetsu can tell by now that Barnaby isn't quite as unaffected as he is trying to make the world believe.
It's the slight blush that gives Barnaby away; and the smile.
"Come on, old man," Barnaby offers his hand and Kotetsu doesn't even mind the old nickname anymore, "before you break something."
#-#-#-#-#