here there be porn.
"You sure you don't wanna let me in?"
"I'm positive."
Fuji's voice is breathless and amused, but not half as amused, Niou's sure, as he's feeling. After all, he told Niou that if he brought home one more cat, he was kicking him out. It was completely Niou's choice to call his bluff, and Fuji would like him to believe that he wasn't bluffing.
Niou doesn't buy it.
"You can't see me from in there."
There's a pause from the other side, Fuji contemplating the water Niou's led him to. Can he even be sure that Niou's doing what he says he is? Or is it possible (yes) that Fuji's the only one here who's hot and bothered?
It's possible, Niou imagines Fuji concluding, but unlikely. Niou wouldn't pass up a chance to get caught at something obscene.
And Fuji's right. Niou leans his back against the door, one shoulder pressed tight to the frame on his right and his foot braced against it on his left. His jeans are open, his hand down the front of them, and the summer heat is just amplifying his fever.
The hallway in front of him is empty at the moment, but Niou's mind has been racing with people strolling by, stopping in their tracks, shocked and appalled. He'd be completely helpless to get away or even hide what he's doing, and the very thought makes his pulse beat in every extremity, insistent and urgent.
Fuji hums on the other side of the door, reminding Niou of his other preoccupation. Niou can't be any more sure that Fuji's not bluffing, standing nonchalant in the foyer and studying his nails while Niou stifles moans against his own shoulder. (Somehow, that's even more attractive than if the other boy were half-naked and flushed.)
Before he can ask (as if he'd get a straight answer, as if he ever gets a straight answer, as if Fuji ever gets a straight answer), a door down the corridor opens. Niou's heart leaps into his throat, hammers in his ribcage, throbs in his cock, everywhere at once. He presses back into the doorframe and whispers, "Oh, fuck," in either unfathomable terror or irrefutable arousal, he isn't sure.
Deliberate steps, heavy, masculine, approach at a leisurely clip, every footfall another crude thrill. The fear slowly begins to overpower the exhilaration, and he's reaching for the doorknob with the hand that's not in his pants, scrabbling, frantic (and oh-so-close)-
When the door opens behind him, he stumbles backward, his free hand reaching for something to catch himself on and finding only air. Fuji barely has the door shut again before he's counterbalancing Niou with a sudden advance, backing him up to the wall in the foyer. His hands join Niou's, softer by leagues and so very insistent (for once), and it's no time at all before the climax catches up with him.
It leaves him panting and weak, sinking down to the floor, and Fuji seizes the opportunity like a true predator, climbing atop him to claim a victorious kiss.
Nothing like a win-win situation.
"I'm positive."
Fuji's voice is breathless and amused, but not half as amused, Niou's sure, as he's feeling. After all, he told Niou that if he brought home one more cat, he was kicking him out. It was completely Niou's choice to call his bluff, and Fuji would like him to believe that he wasn't bluffing.
Niou doesn't buy it.
"You can't see me from in there."
There's a pause from the other side, Fuji contemplating the water Niou's led him to. Can he even be sure that Niou's doing what he says he is? Or is it possible (yes) that Fuji's the only one here who's hot and bothered?
It's possible, Niou imagines Fuji concluding, but unlikely. Niou wouldn't pass up a chance to get caught at something obscene.
And Fuji's right. Niou leans his back against the door, one shoulder pressed tight to the frame on his right and his foot braced against it on his left. His jeans are open, his hand down the front of them, and the summer heat is just amplifying his fever.
The hallway in front of him is empty at the moment, but Niou's mind has been racing with people strolling by, stopping in their tracks, shocked and appalled. He'd be completely helpless to get away or even hide what he's doing, and the very thought makes his pulse beat in every extremity, insistent and urgent.
Fuji hums on the other side of the door, reminding Niou of his other preoccupation. Niou can't be any more sure that Fuji's not bluffing, standing nonchalant in the foyer and studying his nails while Niou stifles moans against his own shoulder. (Somehow, that's even more attractive than if the other boy were half-naked and flushed.)
Before he can ask (as if he'd get a straight answer, as if he ever gets a straight answer, as if Fuji ever gets a straight answer), a door down the corridor opens. Niou's heart leaps into his throat, hammers in his ribcage, throbs in his cock, everywhere at once. He presses back into the doorframe and whispers, "Oh, fuck," in either unfathomable terror or irrefutable arousal, he isn't sure.
Deliberate steps, heavy, masculine, approach at a leisurely clip, every footfall another crude thrill. The fear slowly begins to overpower the exhilaration, and he's reaching for the doorknob with the hand that's not in his pants, scrabbling, frantic (and oh-so-close)-
When the door opens behind him, he stumbles backward, his free hand reaching for something to catch himself on and finding only air. Fuji barely has the door shut again before he's counterbalancing Niou with a sudden advance, backing him up to the wall in the foyer. His hands join Niou's, softer by leagues and so very insistent (for once), and it's no time at all before the climax catches up with him.
It leaves him panting and weak, sinking down to the floor, and Fuji seizes the opportunity like a true predator, climbing atop him to claim a victorious kiss.
Nothing like a win-win situation.