3 unposted fics and 1 new one
While working on a new fic, I found three others that I for some reason never bothered to post (I don't think?). So yeah~! Guess this journal isn't dead. ♥
Fingers dance along pale, heaving skin, little digit ballerinas winding and curving and tiptoeing in ways that purposefully make flesh crawl, nerves tingle. Gokudera worries in the back of his mind that his tense jaw, his painted on scowl, his gnashed teeth- well, he worries that he's going to bite his cigarette in two, to be honest. That and that those fingers might never dip as low as he wants, as he needs. Pride won't let him say anything, but the insistent throb throb gush gush pound pound of his heart, surging half the blood in his body to his glistening cock, it speaks louder than words. The precum is sliding slow down the sides, like an icecream cone in June, and it's sticky and ticklish and he's almost certain he's willing to overlook the horror of that white toothed smile in lieu of Belphegor just licking his damn cock.
His mind changes to overlooking a blowjob in favor kicking the prince in the mouth, when the boy drags his fingertips over the phallus, maps out the curves and lines of pulsing veins, swirls his thumb over the salty slit, and promptly says, "The prince's is bigger."
It's so loud. It's so loud, and no one can sleep, but no one frankly is ballsy enough to make any comment on it, to bang on the wall, even so much as give a begrudgingly tired look in the morning. At breakfast, Aime found himself strangely without a biting remark, Lucian would simply keep her eyes down and read, Alessandra- across the mansion, too far to hear, but still knowledgeable enough- steeped in her jealousy silently, Venom merely enjoyed Aime's silence, and Clement would sneak in to check the box spring mattress to make sure no danger existed in his boss' future exploits.
Because with the way the springs rattled, the wall dented, and the muffled sounds of a euphoric shriek pervaded the hallway, you had to think the bed would break eventually. Maybe it was the way he'd jackhammer into her from behind like a piece of meat, pull her hair and make her knees and elbows ache even against a cotton mattress; or the way that a lamp or two would inevitably be broken, scattered among dirt caked pants, lacy corsets, and bloody fragments of the porcelain vase; or even how the mattress ended halfway off of the bed frame from how hard she could slam herself down on him, bucking and jerking and swirling herself around until both their bones were mixed up jellies of ecstasy.
All in all, no one said a damn word about the way Vianca practically limped to the table, for some reason or another actually smelling girlish- like perfume- with Arcangelo behind her looking somewhat less pissed off than he had been the day before.
Gamma's sideburns are messy. They're messy, sticking all about the place on his salty, dirt smeared skin, and it looks like the way grass turns blonde in the summer when there's no rain, sweat glistening like the moisture on a melting icecream cone. Strawberry, that's a good flavor- tangy and creamy and it's like it's own special thing, because it doesn't taste that much like real strawberries at all. Does Gamma like strawberry? He licks his lips, wondering. Funny, that he's standing here seeing Gamma shirtless for the first time, and all he can think of is icecream and grass. His breath is dry, body tingling and burning with some smoldering energy, like a tank being revved up full of gas, but unable to move. He shouldn't be seeing this- the symmetric curves of shoulder blades, of muscles beneath electrified flesh, hairs standing up. He wants to move, wants to take off this suffocating hat, wants to run small hands through his hair and then run his hands through Gamma's hair, too. Smooth his sideburns around, muss up his slicked back style. Kiss his booboos better. His toes are wiggling just thinking about it, body trembling. Move move move, just move right forward and help Gamma dry his hair, ask for a piggyback ride, hold tight to his skin and press his cheek against a warm shoulder, legs wrapped firmly around his chest. Breath in the scent. Maybe it's like grass. Maybe it's like strawberry icecream....
"Ouji?"
Oh, oops. Ebony eyes that aren't as dead and sedated as maybe they would have been in another life blink open wide, and Gamma has caught him. For a moment it's a dull thrill- would Gamma chase him if he ran away, would he reach out to grab him and they'd tumble and roll and wrestle and laugh like boys do?
Would they kiss? Like adults?
Gamma's staring. Uni realizes he's been staring too, staring at the beads of sweat clinging to Gamma's abs. His lips feel dry again, cracked with dusty ravines in a desert wall. He licks them again. Wonders if it's ok to still like strawberry icecream if you're trying to be adult like. He's mumbling something about training, watching him training, something something mumble mumble small voice. His voice is always so small around the man- He wonders if maybe it's because Gamma's so tall. He wants to climb a tree, talk to Gamma at eye level, press his cheek to the sweet texture of a branch's surface and imagine it's Gamma's chest instead. Speak in a confident tone, with pretty smiles and sparkling eyes, the way that-
"Ouji?"
-the way that she-
"Did you need something...?"
-his mother did, to make Gamma love her.
".....No."
If only Gamma had never met his mother. If only she hadn't been the first he'd met. It's a horrible selfish thought, but if only, if only, if only Gamma would chase after Uni when he finds himself running out of the room, down the corridor, and halfway across the base from Gamma. Panting, there's something poison there- in his chest, and he's not sure if it came from that guilty look in Gamma's eyes or if it came from Uni himself. If it's not because of the way Gamma always sees her in his face, sees Aria who he loved or Genkishi who he blames or Byakuran who he wants to kill. Uni doesn't look like a girl, so he can't understand why the only thing Gamma seems to think about when he'd looking at Uni is women.
Uni feels like he's done something wrong though- seeing so much of Gamma's body. Wonders why it has to feel so special and so very taboo at the same time to see the person you love's body.
Wonders what Gamma would think of his.
Grass. Grass and strawberry icecream and he's moving moving moving back to where he knows he'll never run into Gamma and have to see that expression.
Byakuran's room. In the morning he wakes up curled up to her naked body, sheets worked round their figures like serpents strangling limbs, and everything repeats itself.
Yamamoto isn't a very smart wizard.
In fact, he's not a very smart muggle either, so it's pretty lucky he was born with the talent for magic.
Unfortunately, he's not very talented with plants. He may love lush grass and open skies, but somehow Assistant Headmaster Gesso's fanged geraniums always bite him
extra hard. Even worse, he constantly drops Flutterby bushes because they rattle so hard when he picks them up. He also had the misfortune to smash the herbology teacher's precious Devil's Snare into the wall when it tried to creep into his pants. This may or may not be why he is failing the class horribly.
This is why he decides to try to seek mercy from the flamboyant man by showing up after class one Friday.
He finds Byakuran lounging in his desk, surrounded by beautiful and dangerous plants, arms spread out on the chair arms and body slumped half under the desk as if he's had a hard day's work. He hopes the man won't be grumpy and tired, but the pleased cat-like grin on his face dispels the worries.
He surprices the Assistant Headmaster by clearing his throat, standing unsurely with his usual smile. Byakuran hesitates with returning his own trademark smirk, giving a
small chuckle as he leans forward to greet his worst student. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple.
"Well if it....isn't Yama-kun~ What can I...do you for~...?" he asks, clearing his throat. Yamamoto laughs a bit, looking at the see through ceiling, loitered with crawling vines.
"I sort of...wanted to say sorry about the leaping toadstool today...and ask if there's uh, any way to salvage my grade...?"
A small silence, as Byakuran works his soft lower lip with his teeth, smile twitching ever higher. He looks flushed. Yamamoto begins to wonder if he's getting sick, just as
the other puts a hand over his mouth, and the sound of a choked cough fills the air.
"T-That's right, you're on the Quidditch team, Piogga's captain aren't you~? I'd hate for you to be suspended due to poor grades, especially in such an uninteresting class for you~.." The black haired boy guiltily shrugs, knowing full well that he wasn't the most attentive student when it came to something as dull and stationary as plant life. Er,
most plant life at least.
"I'm really sorry sir, I guess I'm just not up to snuff with this sort of complicated thing, ahaha! I'm more of a sportsman, through and through...but please, don't fail me. Isn't
there any way I can prove I'm not bad enough to fail?"
Byakuran closes his eyes, giving a few tense sighs. Yamamoto's never seen him so stressed out looking. He wonders if he'd really hurt the man's feelings, insulting his plant friends and all. He'd never known a boy who loved flowers as much as the cheerful albino. Then, with a lopsided smile, the teacher steeples his fingers and replies,
"I suppose we could work something out...I'm not heartless, and I know everyone has their talents and..A-Ah, difficulties...perhaps we can arrange some extra credit. Something that you can successfully invest your humble self in~....Mmn~. How about a small list of 5 different plants you find on the Quidditch field~?"
Yamamoto perks up, the suggestion immediately falling under his mental list of 'Ahaha, ok' instead of 'Um, no thanks'. His shoulders rise as if a weight is lifted, and he thanks
the teacher gratuitously. As he's waved off, he hears the teacher coughing again, and turns back to find him leaning back, staring at the ceiling. He wishes him well with his
cough, and leaves just as Byakuran struggles to gasp out a thank you.
Byakuran sits slumped in his chair, panting for a few minutes before the small, humiliated voice of one redheaded student wavers up from between his legs.
"I-Is he gone? Oh g-god, t-that was so horrible...."
He laughs, ruffles the boy's hair, wipes the white dribble from the teary eyed boy's chin.
"Don't worry Shou-chan~ By the way, that earned you a solid A. It would have been A+, but you really need to work on that coughing...I'm not that big, am I?"
The plants sway in the breeze, and twitch to the vibrations of Shouichi's flustered sputtering.