Click. Click. Swiiiiiish. The door swung open with a sigh, groaning under the combined weight of the two people pressed against its old hinges. The classroom was shrouded in darkness, the only light filtering in through the windows up in the corners of the room. The new occupants of the room stumbled through the darkness, all moans and whispers and breaths, until they hit the edge of one of the desks and toppled over on top of it. There was a clink clank clunk as a set of keys tripped down the desk and slid across dusty linoleum, into a sliver of light from the windows.
The door hovered and then swung shut as the breeze came in from one of the windows that had been left open. Some posters fluttered on the edges of the breeze, but came to a halt, watching, waiting. Listening.
There was a loud scrape as the desk moved just barely an inch, and one of the people stopped moving, suppressing a chuckle.
“I-it’s not funny, Heracles,” a voice said, soft and heeded with lust with a hint of annoyance. Another chuckle. Clink, click, scrape. A belt slid to the floor. Kiss-swollen lips pouted, and were pulled forward into a long, open-mouthed kiss, black hair just covering his eyes as he leaned forward and over the other person, climbing up onto the desk, panting heavily.
Pop, pop, ziiiip. Jacket discarded, shirt unbuttoned, fingertips grazing chiseled muscle tenderly. The windows rattled gently. The room hadn’t been in use since the morning, and it would continue to sit until the following morning. At least for a class.
There was a long, low moan, and the other boy, Heracles, was leaning back, completely against the desk, his head against the fake wood and his chin tipped up, eyes closed and cheeks rosy with pleasure.
“Kiku-“
“-shush, you’re being t-too loud-ohh-“
The wind through the broken, opened window kicked up a small chalk dust cloud from the chalkboard and skirted it across the board, leaving a sheen of white. Kiku was leading kisses down Heracles’s exposed torso, over ribcage, his stomach, his hips. Heracles gave an involuntary shudder that made the desk groan with annoyance. Kiku re-positioned himself over Heracles’s hips, bare knees rubbing against the top of the desk. His skin was turning red and angry with the unwanted friction, but he didn’t notice. He curled socked toes around themselves, curling into one of Heracles’s legs. Heracles’s other leg cast a shadow along the far wall as Kiku lifted it up, nails digging gently into dappled flesh and eliciting a gasp. Scritch, scratch, Heracles’s nails answered the motion along the desk.
The maps and posters around the room watched in silence as Kiku hoisted himself over Heracles, lips moving nearly inaudibly, pulling his fingers out from inside him and placing both hands on either sides of his hips, and Heracles took him in with a grunt and a moan and the desk wobbled.
Kiku thrust his hips into Heracles’s buck and leaned forward, capturing him in a long kiss, taking one hand and running it through Heracles’s hair, scratching his scalp and running his fingers down his neck. Kiku left his lips with a gasp and laid his lips along Heracles’s neck, exploring every inch of tender flesh, bits of his skin glowing in the few strains of light still filtering into the room. It was long past the bell at this point.
Re: [Part 17] Click, Click, Swish (1/2)
anonymous
June 11 2011, 20:14:26 UTC
Heracles reared his head back and opened glowing eyes, staring at the posters behind him and letting himself go, relishing in the contact and the pleasure and the touches and licks and nips and every inch of him was electrified.
“Oh my G-God, Kiku-!” and he dug his nails into the edge of the desk with a loud scrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaatch, for Kiku had taken to using his tongue along his nipples and it felt ridiculously good. Soon their talking had ceased and it came to needy, desperate pants, low moans and the sound of skin-on-skin-on-fake wood squeaking-on-linoleum. The adhesive on the posters closest to the ground-an old, old map of the world, sepia-toned and faded-began to fail as the humidity rose in the room with each haggard gasp of breath.
Kiku suddenly sat up straight and shucked his navy-blue blazer with a swiiiish crumple as it fell to the floor. His pressed dress shirt was still mostly buttoned and his tie was around his shoulders, partially undone. He leaned forward, his eyes rolling back into his head with a groan and kissed Heracles’s navel as his body tensed, and his entire body shuddered with climax as Heracles, Heracles rolled from his mouth in soft whispers. He only had a minute to rest, sweat pasting his hair to his cheeks, before he bent down and took Heracles’s still untended member between his lips to properly finish him off. Heracles reacted to the sudden wet heat with a moan, bucking his hips and curling his toes inward. By this point the sun had sunk farther in the sky and casted the light onto the laminated posters on the far wall, outlining a series of bumps as a shadow that moved constantly.
Heracles answered Kiku’s earlier declarations of his name with Kiku, Kiku, ohaio-shū watashi-! If the posters had been able, they would have shielded their eyes, and the door would have clouded and the chalkboard would have kicked up more dust to block them, anything-the stoic, faded looks of great world leaders were high above them, near the dusted windows, surveying the room and its occupants.
Heracles released one more sound that was more animal than human-and much louder than either probably wanted-and then relaxed, panting, his hands around Kiku’s neck, thumbing small circles into his back.
“...you weren’t joking when you said you wanted to,” Heracles murmured up into the air. Kiku snorted into his chest, lifting his head to place a small kiss on his lips.
“Well, I-“ and the desk wobbled violently. Kiku jumped, startled, and slid out of Heracles and off the desk, taking a few steps back. He brushed off his shirt and stood, pantsless, staring at the desk that Heracles was still strewn across.
“...this is my desk,” he muttered. He looked up and around and noticed the things he hadn’t in the heat of passion in the dark; the maps, the propaganda posters the portraits high above him. “This is my World History class.”
“Really?” Heracles asked, sitting up. He hopped off the desk and pulled his slacks back on, his shirt hanging limp and open on his shoulders. He rubbed at one of the red welts that was forming along his collar bone. Heracles looked up and noticed the portraits circling the room, their gazes almost fixed on them.
“They would be judging us, wouldn’t they?” Heracles asked, humor in his voice. Kiku nodded.
“Definitely. Let’s get out of here; they’re making me... uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t care before,” Heracles noted as he re-did his belt. Kiku pulled his slacks back on and frowned at the soiled desk. He glanced back up at the portraits, the maps, even the windows.
“...I wouldn’t have come in here if I knew it was this room,” he said slowly. Heracles slid Kiku’s discarded keys into his hand and kissed the top of his ear. “C’mon, let’s go; I’ll deal with that later.”
And the room fell into silence once more, the door sighing shut behind them.
Click, click.
--
I went a weird direction with this one; I was kinda thinking from the pov of the classroom, but I didn't want to leave out sexy details... I dunno. I think I'm getting better a smut?
Re: [Part 17] Click, Click, Swish (1/2)
anonymous
June 11 2011, 21:47:21 UTC
May I worship you, author!anon? Not only did you make the desk sex hot, you made Japan the one on top (YES YES) and you injected a good dose of humor in there too without detracting from the hotness. The POV of the poor classroom materials was quite unique and amusing, and I liked it that Kiku was apparently so caught up in the heat of the moment that he didn't realize that they were doing it on his own desk. XD
Re: [Part 17] Click, Click, Swish (1/2)
anonymous
June 12 2011, 01:59:19 UTC
this was absolutely brilliant! loved the pov of the classroom and i loved how the details of their surroundings fell neatly into place with what they were doing. and yes, it was very, very hot :D
Click. Click. Swiiiiiish. The door swung open with a sigh, groaning under the combined weight of the two people pressed against its old hinges. The classroom was shrouded in darkness, the only light filtering in through the windows up in the corners of the room. The new occupants of the room stumbled through the darkness, all moans and whispers and breaths, until they hit the edge of one of the desks and toppled over on top of it. There was a clink clank clunk as a set of keys tripped down the desk and slid across dusty linoleum, into a sliver of light from the windows.
The door hovered and then swung shut as the breeze came in from one of the windows that had been left open. Some posters fluttered on the edges of the breeze, but came to a halt, watching, waiting. Listening.
There was a loud scrape as the desk moved just barely an inch, and one of the people stopped moving, suppressing a chuckle.
“I-it’s not funny, Heracles,” a voice said, soft and heeded with lust with a hint of annoyance. Another chuckle. Clink, click, scrape. A belt slid to the floor. Kiss-swollen lips pouted, and were pulled forward into a long, open-mouthed kiss, black hair just covering his eyes as he leaned forward and over the other person, climbing up onto the desk, panting heavily.
Pop, pop, ziiiip. Jacket discarded, shirt unbuttoned, fingertips grazing chiseled muscle tenderly. The windows rattled gently. The room hadn’t been in use since the morning, and it would continue to sit until the following morning. At least for a class.
There was a long, low moan, and the other boy, Heracles, was leaning back, completely against the desk, his head against the fake wood and his chin tipped up, eyes closed and cheeks rosy with pleasure.
“Kiku-“
“-shush, you’re being t-too loud-ohh-“
The wind through the broken, opened window kicked up a small chalk dust cloud from the chalkboard and skirted it across the board, leaving a sheen of white. Kiku was leading kisses down Heracles’s exposed torso, over ribcage, his stomach, his hips. Heracles gave an involuntary shudder that made the desk groan with annoyance. Kiku re-positioned himself over Heracles’s hips, bare knees rubbing against the top of the desk. His skin was turning red and angry with the unwanted friction, but he didn’t notice. He curled socked toes around themselves, curling into one of Heracles’s legs. Heracles’s other leg cast a shadow along the far wall as Kiku lifted it up, nails digging gently into dappled flesh and eliciting a gasp. Scritch, scratch, Heracles’s nails answered the motion along the desk.
The maps and posters around the room watched in silence as Kiku hoisted himself over Heracles, lips moving nearly inaudibly, pulling his fingers out from inside him and placing both hands on either sides of his hips, and Heracles took him in with a grunt and a moan and the desk wobbled.
Kiku thrust his hips into Heracles’s buck and leaned forward, capturing him in a long kiss, taking one hand and running it through Heracles’s hair, scratching his scalp and running his fingers down his neck. Kiku left his lips with a gasp and laid his lips along Heracles’s neck, exploring every inch of tender flesh, bits of his skin glowing in the few strains of light still filtering into the room. It was long past the bell at this point.
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“Oh my G-God, Kiku-!” and he dug his nails into the edge of the desk with a loud scrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaatch, for Kiku had taken to using his tongue along his nipples and it felt ridiculously good. Soon their talking had ceased and it came to needy, desperate pants, low moans and the sound of skin-on-skin-on-fake wood squeaking-on-linoleum. The adhesive on the posters closest to the ground-an old, old map of the world, sepia-toned and faded-began to fail as the humidity rose in the room with each haggard gasp of breath.
Kiku suddenly sat up straight and shucked his navy-blue blazer with a swiiiish crumple as it fell to the floor. His pressed dress shirt was still mostly buttoned and his tie was around his shoulders, partially undone. He leaned forward, his eyes rolling back into his head with a groan and kissed Heracles’s navel as his body tensed, and his entire body shuddered with climax as Heracles, Heracles rolled from his mouth in soft whispers. He only had a minute to rest, sweat pasting his hair to his cheeks, before he bent down and took Heracles’s still untended member between his lips to properly finish him off. Heracles reacted to the sudden wet heat with a moan, bucking his hips and curling his toes inward. By this point the sun had sunk farther in the sky and casted the light onto the laminated posters on the far wall, outlining a series of bumps as a shadow that moved constantly.
Heracles answered Kiku’s earlier declarations of his name with Kiku, Kiku, ohaio-shū watashi-! If the posters had been able, they would have shielded their eyes, and the door would have clouded and the chalkboard would have kicked up more dust to block them, anything-the stoic, faded looks of great world leaders were high above them, near the dusted windows, surveying the room and its occupants.
Heracles released one more sound that was more animal than human-and much louder than either probably wanted-and then relaxed, panting, his hands around Kiku’s neck, thumbing small circles into his back.
“...you weren’t joking when you said you wanted to,” Heracles murmured up into the air. Kiku snorted into his chest, lifting his head to place a small kiss on his lips.
“Well, I-“ and the desk wobbled violently. Kiku jumped, startled, and slid out of Heracles and off the desk, taking a few steps back. He brushed off his shirt and stood, pantsless, staring at the desk that Heracles was still strewn across.
“...this is my desk,” he muttered. He looked up and around and noticed the things he hadn’t in the heat of passion in the dark; the maps, the propaganda posters the portraits high above him. “This is my World History class.”
“Really?” Heracles asked, sitting up. He hopped off the desk and pulled his slacks back on, his shirt hanging limp and open on his shoulders. He rubbed at one of the red welts that was forming along his collar bone. Heracles looked up and noticed the portraits circling the room, their gazes almost fixed on them.
“They would be judging us, wouldn’t they?” Heracles asked, humor in his voice. Kiku nodded.
“Definitely. Let’s get out of here; they’re making me... uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t care before,” Heracles noted as he re-did his belt. Kiku pulled his slacks back on and frowned at the soiled desk. He glanced back up at the portraits, the maps, even the windows.
“...I wouldn’t have come in here if I knew it was this room,” he said slowly. Heracles slid Kiku’s discarded keys into his hand and kissed the top of his ear. “C’mon, let’s go; I’ll deal with that later.”
And the room fell into silence once more, the door sighing shut behind them.
Click, click.
--
I went a weird direction with this one; I was kinda thinking from the pov of the classroom, but I didn't want to leave out sexy details... I dunno. I think I'm getting better a smut?
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but would it have been better if it was someone else's desk? *ponders this*
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