A Vegas Story (Part 1)
Title: Part 1: The Room
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Characters: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance
Rating: This is an R. slightly lemon
Disclaimer: I don’t own Eyeshield 21
A/N: I’m going to try something new. This is the first chapter in a multipart fic that I’m basing on their time in Vegas. I thought that part of the manga was so wonderful, and Vegas is my home town, so I’m a little biased. :)
It felt good to finally take a nice hot shower after a couple weeks of freshening up in truck stop bathrooms. Mamori crossed over to her suitcase on the bed and took out a nice cotton tank and a pair of matching cotton panties to sleep in. She glanced over at Suzuna who was soundlessly sleeping on the other bed as she took off the towel wrapped around her damp hair, and shook it out gently. She decided it was best not to give her hair a quick blow dry, so as not to disturb Suzuna’s sleep. Instead, she grabbed a comb and ran it through her tresses until she was satisfied that it was nice and neat. Then she quickly slipped on her underwear to get ready for bed.
As she rubbed her favorite lotion on her skin, she wondered if everyone was doing okay. She knew the 2000 kilometer trek had taken a lot out of them, and she hoped it would all be worth it once they arrived back in Japan. She looked over at the spare keys she had lined up on the dresser, and decided that it didn’t hurt to check in on everyone. After all, she was the team manager.
She had asked for everyone to give her their spare key as they checked in, and had written each room number on each key just to keep track of them. Either everyone thought it was a good idea for her to keep a spare, or they were just too tired to protest in the end. She decided that doing one last bed check before settling down herself wasn’t such a bad idea. So she put on her terry cloth bathrobe, and slid into her slippers before grabbing all the keys, and heading out the door.
It wasn’t until she came to the last room, Hiruma’s, that she paused for a moment and debated whether to turn back. Everyone, even Doburoku-sensei, had been tucked snuggly into their beds, peacefully asleep. She wondered if Hiruma was still up planning their next move, and if he would welcome the intrusion. She was a little bit restless herself, so she decided to open the door anyway and peep in.
Mamori couldn’t help but to smile as she saw him splayed out across the bed sleeping while still clutching the gun he used to torment Monta and Yukimitsu throughout the Death March. He didn’t even have enough strength to take off his shoes before he passed out, she thought to herself as she tip-toed over to the foot of the bed. She glanced down and saw Cerberus sleeping soundlessly over in the corner, and wondered if it was a good idea to take Hiruma’s shoes off for him.
Not wanting to wake him, or possibly Cerberus, she decided instead to satisfy her curiosity and take a peek at his sleeping face. She crossed over to where his head had barely touched the pillow, and gazed upon a face so calm and serene, she felt as though she was staring at a noble elf, instead of what some believed to be the devil himself. Mamori decided to take the gun away from him to put it up somewhere. She didn’t believe it was a good idea for him to be sleeping with such heavy artillery.
She reached down, and as soon as she touched the gun, in one swift reflexive movement, she found herself pinned beneath a groggy Hiruma.
“H-Hiruma-kun,” she said breathlessly, her wrists pinned to the bed above her head as he hovered over her. Her robe fell open, their legs entwined as he loomed menacingly over her. He blinked sluggishly, not fully understanding what was going on himself.
“Fucking manager?” As his eyes adjusted in the darkness he recognized the terrified figure beneath him and let her wrists go. He moved from straddling her as she sat up gently rubbing her wrists.
“What were you doing?” He said as he slid off the bed, and crossed over to the dresser where he laid the gun down.
“I came in to check on you. I thought I’d take the gun out of your hands while you were sleeping.”
“Always the fucking mother hen.” He smirked as he leaned casually against the dresser.
“I didn’t realize it would elicit such a violent reaction from you,” she switched to rubbing the other wrist.
“Did I hurt you?” his expression darkened a little as he looked at her sitting on the bed.
“It’s okay,”
“No, it’s not. Let me take a look,” he knelt down in front of her as she sat on the bed, and took her wrists gently into his hands.
She smiled shyly as he turned her wrists over in his hands, scrutinizing them. “See, it’s nothing. No bruises, no marks,” she said as pulled her hands away from his touch. He glanced up at her, their eyes locking for a split second until she looked down at her hands resting in her lap.
“You’re right,” he stood up from her and turned toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. Go back to your room and get some sleep,”
“Oh, yes. Right. Good night,” she stood up abruptly. Maybe too abruptly, because all the blood rushed to her head and she started to feel dizzy. If only she could just steady herself for a minute. She reached out to grab on to something, but all she felt was thin air, and her legs wobbling beneath her.
She put her hands up in front of her, and just as she felt she was about to fall forward, her hands pressed against something hard and smooth. She found herself face to face with Hiruma’s chest, and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She tried her best to focus her attention on her hands, and not the chiseled peaks of his chest beneath his shirt.
Time seemed to freeze as she gathered her thoughts, and what seemed like an eternity it took to find her voice, was only a matter of seconds. His hands were on her shoulders steadying her, and the dizziness subsided to where she felt she could stand on her own.
“It’s okay, really. I’m all right. I’m just a little tired, and I stood up way to fast,” she half chuckled, as she tried her best to make her voice sound normal, when she felt anything but her normal self. Why did he have to smell so primal, so male? Why did he have to feel so strong, so safe? She mustered what self confidence she had left to glance up at his eyes to convince him she was really okay.
His lips came barreling down on hers. Whatever protest she was prepared to make died in her throat as she felt his hands slide down to her waist. Her hands had a mind of their own as they slid up his chest to clasp themselves together at the base of his neck. She felt herself leaning into him, and as the kiss deepened, her lips parted and their tongues meshed together.
They tumbled back on top of the bed, his hand swept underneath her shirt, and pressed against the soft flesh of her flat stomach. He trailed hungry kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. She felt her body arching toward his, and her hands found their way down his lean back to tug on his shirt. He reached up to cup her bare breast, and her breath hitched in her throat. She yanked his shirt from his jeans to glide her hands back up his back, feeling every lean sinewy muscle underneath his skin flex with her touch, as he returned to kissing her lips once more with savage pleasure. When he rolled his calloused thumb over her hardened nipple, a slight moan escaped from her lips that surprised them both.
Then the mood changed. He froze, and without looking at her directly, he quickly rolled away from her. He muttered a curse under his breath as she looked up at the ceiling, breathless and bewildered. She felt movement on the bed and looked to see him making his way towards the bathroom.
“Go back to your fucking room, fucking manager,” he growled before slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.
Mamori sat up on his bed confused and in total disarray. Was Hiruma just kissing her? Was she kissing him? What were they just about to do? She heard the water for the shower go on, and she gasped to herself as she touched her fingers to her lips. The memory of his kisses, the memory of his touch, still lingering all over her body with burning intensity.