[PoT]:: Kirihara x Marui Pillow Talk.
Title: Pillow Talk.
Pairing: Kirihara Akaya x Marui Bunta.
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/groping, implied sex/ 904
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: Bunta comes over early one morning, and discovers Kirihara's pj preference.
Notes: for citrus_taste's Halloween challenge. Comments and feedback are appreciated.
The curtains were closed haphazardly, allowing early morning light to creep into the room. On the nightstand, Kirihara's cell phone vibrated frantically. The lump under the blankets shifted, a tanned arm jutting out to snatch the phone up. He muttered vague threats of violence as he flipped the phone open. The night before was spent celebrating with the team for their victory in the semi-finals. He had crept into the house late and due to excitement had only fallen asleep a few hours ago.
Kirihara sat up, squinting at the screen, barely able to read the text message. His phone vibrated, another message from Bunta. Grumbling under his breath he rolled out of bed, kicking away blankets that had tangled around his feet. His parents were still asleep, the house dark. Kirihara was extra quiet when he shuffled past his parent's bedroom, and skipped the last two stairs which squeaked.
He opened the front door, fighting back a huge yawn and failing. "Bunta-senpai. Why are you here?" Kirihara's voice was rough with sleep, and he still wasn't completely sure he wasn't dreaming.
"I couldn’t remember where your mom hid the extra key. I didn't mean to wake you up through the texts." Bunta replied. Kirihara glared at the other boy who was happily rocking on his heels and decidedly too awake.
"It's under the flower pot." Kirihara jerked his head toward it. He scratched idly at his stomach, another yawn forcing it's way to the surface. He almost thought about shutting the door in Bunta's smiling face, but it had been too long since he had seen his senpai. Instead, he opened the door a bit wider. "Come in, but be quiet."
"I do know how to be quiet."
Kirihara could feel the smirk directed at him. The last time they had seen each other, Kirihara had woken up Bunta's roommates when he was sneaking out of the apartment. "It's not my fault, senpai. You were the one who kept me up." There wasn't any bite to his words, and he grinned at the other boy over his shoulder.
"Hurry up and graduate already." Bunta's weight collided with Kirihara's back, pale arms sneaking around his middle. "I miss you."
"I miss you too." Kirihara traced a finger along Bunta's arm, enjoying how close they were. "We should go upstairs though." His parents knew about his relationship with Bunta, and his father was surprisingly alright with it. As long as they didn't see anything. Kirihara didn't want to have to explain why they were snuggled up in the middle of the hallway at the crack of dawn. Bunta pulled away from him, Kirihara instantly missing the warmth and contact. He watched as Bunta took his shoes off; Bunta brushing past him as he too skipped the two squeaky stairs.
"Of course you miss me." Bunta stretched out on his side in Kirihara's bed. "Any idiot can see that."
Kirihara rolled his eyes as he curled up next to Bunta. "Aren't you a genius?"
Bunta spluttered, hitting Kirihara in the face with a pillow. "I am a genius." He paused, grunting when Kirihara retaliated. "It didn't take my superior intellect to realize you were the one stealing my t-shirts." Bunta reached out, tugged playfully on the shirt Kirihara wore.
"I-I…" Kirihara struggled to come up with something that didn't sound lame. The shirt he snagged was old and nearly threadbare, soft from too many washings, the lettering faded and peeling. It had been at the bottom of Bunta's clean laundry pile, and Kirihara was sure he wouldn't miss it. "Well, you weren’t wearing it." He managed to get the words out- more defensive than he intended. He was hoping Bunta wouldn't ever find out that he wore it to sleep in.
"It's alright." Bunta tugged again, gently. Kirihara let Bunta pull him down, burrowing close to the other boy. "It's cute."
"I'm not cute." Kirihara muttered, feeling his face burn. Bunta's hand smoothed through his hair, attempting to tame the bed-head. "They're warm, and smell like senpai."
"You're a t-shirt stealing brat. Entirely not cute."
Kirihara lifted his head, eyes narrowed as he mock glared at Bunta. "You'd do it too." He pressed closer to the other boy, hands sliding down Bunta's back. "You're a jerk." He pressed a clumsy kiss to Bunta's mouth. Kirihara's hold on Bunta tightened, kissing him properly this time. The bed shifted as he crawled over Bunta, the kiss deepening. His hands slid under Bunta's shirt, inching the cloth up, separating long enough for Bunta to twist out of the shirt.
His fingers fumbled with the button of Bunta's jeans, tugging sharply to get them off. Kirihara groaned softly, his body arching under Bunta's hands. "You never said why you came over." He nuzzled at the curve of Bunta's neck, hands roaming over the other boy's body.
"Congratulations on your win yesterday." Bunta's voice was breathy, hands sliding down Kirihara's back. "I saw the whole thing." Kirihara made a needy noise when Bunta's fingers teased under the waistband of his boxers. "I didn't want to interrupt your celebration…"
Kirihara kissed Bunta again, cutting the other boy off. His hand moved between them, fingers wrapping around Bunta's length and stroked slowly. Bunta clutched at him, Kirihara smirking as he nipped at kiss-swollen lips. "Shhhh…senpai."
"Shut up." Bunta muttered, hands going to Kirihara's hips, tugging his boxers off. "And keep that shirt on."
Pairing: Kirihara Akaya x Marui Bunta.
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/groping, implied sex/ 904
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: Bunta comes over early one morning, and discovers Kirihara's pj preference.
Notes: for citrus_taste's Halloween challenge. Comments and feedback are appreciated.
The curtains were closed haphazardly, allowing early morning light to creep into the room. On the nightstand, Kirihara's cell phone vibrated frantically. The lump under the blankets shifted, a tanned arm jutting out to snatch the phone up. He muttered vague threats of violence as he flipped the phone open. The night before was spent celebrating with the team for their victory in the semi-finals. He had crept into the house late and due to excitement had only fallen asleep a few hours ago.
Kirihara sat up, squinting at the screen, barely able to read the text message. His phone vibrated, another message from Bunta. Grumbling under his breath he rolled out of bed, kicking away blankets that had tangled around his feet. His parents were still asleep, the house dark. Kirihara was extra quiet when he shuffled past his parent's bedroom, and skipped the last two stairs which squeaked.
He opened the front door, fighting back a huge yawn and failing. "Bunta-senpai. Why are you here?" Kirihara's voice was rough with sleep, and he still wasn't completely sure he wasn't dreaming.
"I couldn’t remember where your mom hid the extra key. I didn't mean to wake you up through the texts." Bunta replied. Kirihara glared at the other boy who was happily rocking on his heels and decidedly too awake.
"It's under the flower pot." Kirihara jerked his head toward it. He scratched idly at his stomach, another yawn forcing it's way to the surface. He almost thought about shutting the door in Bunta's smiling face, but it had been too long since he had seen his senpai. Instead, he opened the door a bit wider. "Come in, but be quiet."
"I do know how to be quiet."
Kirihara could feel the smirk directed at him. The last time they had seen each other, Kirihara had woken up Bunta's roommates when he was sneaking out of the apartment. "It's not my fault, senpai. You were the one who kept me up." There wasn't any bite to his words, and he grinned at the other boy over his shoulder.
"Hurry up and graduate already." Bunta's weight collided with Kirihara's back, pale arms sneaking around his middle. "I miss you."
"I miss you too." Kirihara traced a finger along Bunta's arm, enjoying how close they were. "We should go upstairs though." His parents knew about his relationship with Bunta, and his father was surprisingly alright with it. As long as they didn't see anything. Kirihara didn't want to have to explain why they were snuggled up in the middle of the hallway at the crack of dawn. Bunta pulled away from him, Kirihara instantly missing the warmth and contact. He watched as Bunta took his shoes off; Bunta brushing past him as he too skipped the two squeaky stairs.
"Of course you miss me." Bunta stretched out on his side in Kirihara's bed. "Any idiot can see that."
Kirihara rolled his eyes as he curled up next to Bunta. "Aren't you a genius?"
Bunta spluttered, hitting Kirihara in the face with a pillow. "I am a genius." He paused, grunting when Kirihara retaliated. "It didn't take my superior intellect to realize you were the one stealing my t-shirts." Bunta reached out, tugged playfully on the shirt Kirihara wore.
"I-I…" Kirihara struggled to come up with something that didn't sound lame. The shirt he snagged was old and nearly threadbare, soft from too many washings, the lettering faded and peeling. It had been at the bottom of Bunta's clean laundry pile, and Kirihara was sure he wouldn't miss it. "Well, you weren’t wearing it." He managed to get the words out- more defensive than he intended. He was hoping Bunta wouldn't ever find out that he wore it to sleep in.
"It's alright." Bunta tugged again, gently. Kirihara let Bunta pull him down, burrowing close to the other boy. "It's cute."
"I'm not cute." Kirihara muttered, feeling his face burn. Bunta's hand smoothed through his hair, attempting to tame the bed-head. "They're warm, and smell like senpai."
"You're a t-shirt stealing brat. Entirely not cute."
Kirihara lifted his head, eyes narrowed as he mock glared at Bunta. "You'd do it too." He pressed closer to the other boy, hands sliding down Bunta's back. "You're a jerk." He pressed a clumsy kiss to Bunta's mouth. Kirihara's hold on Bunta tightened, kissing him properly this time. The bed shifted as he crawled over Bunta, the kiss deepening. His hands slid under Bunta's shirt, inching the cloth up, separating long enough for Bunta to twist out of the shirt.
His fingers fumbled with the button of Bunta's jeans, tugging sharply to get them off. Kirihara groaned softly, his body arching under Bunta's hands. "You never said why you came over." He nuzzled at the curve of Bunta's neck, hands roaming over the other boy's body.
"Congratulations on your win yesterday." Bunta's voice was breathy, hands sliding down Kirihara's back. "I saw the whole thing." Kirihara made a needy noise when Bunta's fingers teased under the waistband of his boxers. "I didn't want to interrupt your celebration…"
Kirihara kissed Bunta again, cutting the other boy off. His hand moved between them, fingers wrapping around Bunta's length and stroked slowly. Bunta clutched at him, Kirihara smirking as he nipped at kiss-swollen lips. "Shhhh…senpai."
"Shut up." Bunta muttered, hands going to Kirihara's hips, tugging his boxers off. "And keep that shirt on."