Fic: {Eyeshield 21} Challenge for zauberer_sirin
Fic for zauberer_sirin for this request.
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Pairing: Hiruma/Mamori
Warning: Het. I can't believe I wrote het. Normally, I don't even *read* het let alone write it… But it's a request for Eyeshield 21 and I just couldn’t resist. Barely R-rating, and, er, not so much with wild and sweaty action, but, hopefully at least it's readable for you…
Thank you to randi2204 for the quick beta.
She fascinated him. She looked like nearly every other girl in their school; though prettier and politer than most, petted and praised by teachers and other students alike. And yet - she had enough fight in her to look him in the eye with out flinching, to challenge him without care for anything except for what - or who - she was protecting.
She had reputation enough that when that first battle brewed between them, the odds were even to fair that he would be the one chewed up and spat out.
She was also just as good at getting people to do what she wanted as he was; though their methods differed vastly.
He'd thought he'd break her like every other person he'd broken with his book of threats and the information he was born to gather. Except, when given a reason to try to break him (and she had the power to take what he most valued from him) she still thought of him and his priorities and hadn't met his challenge with rigid defiance of her own.
It meant she couldn't be broken.
Not by any normal means.
From that moment on, he wanted her as he never wanted anyone before; every time she stood up to him, challenged him as no one else dared to - he wanted her more. He wanted to strip her of her protective clothing, wanted to see that fire moving under and over him, wanted to claim her and brand her and keep her as his own. He wanted to slide his hands up her skirt, follow the curve of her legs, and tease her mercilessly until she came apart under him. He wanted to peel her shirt apart, trapping her arms; wanted to taste the skin of her neck, lick the roundness of her breasts, and see just what it would take to make her nipples tighten under his tongue.
And now, watching as she bent over, pulling a clean towel from the laundry basket, now his instincts clamored for him to push it; to find out, one way or the other, what would happen if he tried… It didn't matter that the odds in his head were screaming failure at him; it didn't matter that he had no leverage against her leaving except for that damn pipsqueak. The time to act was now.
Wrapping the towel around his hips, Hiruma walked casually over to where Mamori was neatly folding towels and putting them away, and draped his arm over her shoulders; felt her stiffen and stand deliberately still.
He smiled at the faintest quiver in her voice as she asked, "Shouldn't you put some clothes on?"
Sliding until his front was against her back, he let his hands trail upward, tracing the lines of her neck, feeling her pulse speeding up faster and faster. "I think they'd just get in the way."
He expected her to jump away; expected a flurry of excuses and blushing and recoiling and poorly hidden disgust. He expected that they would be out one fine manager, but there were limits to what he could tolerate, even for football. He kept expecting her to act as everyone else did; kept forgetting that she never reacted as other people did.
For a moment she was still under his arm, then she turned, lifted her head and met his expression of leering lust with flat, unreadable expression. "What are you doing?"
Blinking, he frowned at her, bringing his other arm to her waist. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
Mamori frowned back, and watching closely, put her hands on his neck, fingers stroking his ears, sliding into his hair. He managed to keep his frown, though his hands tightened on her, pulling her closer. Her fingers slid over his mouth; she smiled slowly.
"I think you're doing something that would be best started somewhere else."
In his moment of frozen surprise, she slipped from his hands, and left, walking briskly away.
Maybe he wasn't going to be out a manager after all.
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Pairing: Hiruma/Mamori
Warning: Het. I can't believe I wrote het. Normally, I don't even *read* het let alone write it… But it's a request for Eyeshield 21 and I just couldn’t resist. Barely R-rating, and, er, not so much with wild and sweaty action, but, hopefully at least it's readable for you…
Thank you to randi2204 for the quick beta.
She fascinated him. She looked like nearly every other girl in their school; though prettier and politer than most, petted and praised by teachers and other students alike. And yet - she had enough fight in her to look him in the eye with out flinching, to challenge him without care for anything except for what - or who - she was protecting.
She had reputation enough that when that first battle brewed between them, the odds were even to fair that he would be the one chewed up and spat out.
She was also just as good at getting people to do what she wanted as he was; though their methods differed vastly.
He'd thought he'd break her like every other person he'd broken with his book of threats and the information he was born to gather. Except, when given a reason to try to break him (and she had the power to take what he most valued from him) she still thought of him and his priorities and hadn't met his challenge with rigid defiance of her own.
It meant she couldn't be broken.
Not by any normal means.
From that moment on, he wanted her as he never wanted anyone before; every time she stood up to him, challenged him as no one else dared to - he wanted her more. He wanted to strip her of her protective clothing, wanted to see that fire moving under and over him, wanted to claim her and brand her and keep her as his own. He wanted to slide his hands up her skirt, follow the curve of her legs, and tease her mercilessly until she came apart under him. He wanted to peel her shirt apart, trapping her arms; wanted to taste the skin of her neck, lick the roundness of her breasts, and see just what it would take to make her nipples tighten under his tongue.
And now, watching as she bent over, pulling a clean towel from the laundry basket, now his instincts clamored for him to push it; to find out, one way or the other, what would happen if he tried… It didn't matter that the odds in his head were screaming failure at him; it didn't matter that he had no leverage against her leaving except for that damn pipsqueak. The time to act was now.
Wrapping the towel around his hips, Hiruma walked casually over to where Mamori was neatly folding towels and putting them away, and draped his arm over her shoulders; felt her stiffen and stand deliberately still.
He smiled at the faintest quiver in her voice as she asked, "Shouldn't you put some clothes on?"
Sliding until his front was against her back, he let his hands trail upward, tracing the lines of her neck, feeling her pulse speeding up faster and faster. "I think they'd just get in the way."
He expected her to jump away; expected a flurry of excuses and blushing and recoiling and poorly hidden disgust. He expected that they would be out one fine manager, but there were limits to what he could tolerate, even for football. He kept expecting her to act as everyone else did; kept forgetting that she never reacted as other people did.
For a moment she was still under his arm, then she turned, lifted her head and met his expression of leering lust with flat, unreadable expression. "What are you doing?"
Blinking, he frowned at her, bringing his other arm to her waist. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
Mamori frowned back, and watching closely, put her hands on his neck, fingers stroking his ears, sliding into his hair. He managed to keep his frown, though his hands tightened on her, pulling her closer. Her fingers slid over his mouth; she smiled slowly.
"I think you're doing something that would be best started somewhere else."
In his moment of frozen surprise, she slipped from his hands, and left, walking briskly away.
Maybe he wasn't going to be out a manager after all.