[Fic] Five Loads: Somnus Interruptus
Five dreams Shiraishi possibly had. You said you liked humor. Hope you like this. ^_^
Shiraishi was in the middle of receiving the most wondrous toe bath imaginable (courtesy of one very enthusiastic Padfoot), when a line of chorus girls paraded by and made themselves known. They sang, struck a pose, and put the moves on. With a groan and a drugged look in his eyes, Shiraishi craned his head over his shoulder to watch them dance.
The chorus girl closest to him winked and kicked up her leg. She started singing Elvis.
Shiraishi grinned. He winked back.
Padfoot continued licking Shiraishi's toes.
Suddenly the sand beneath Shiraishi's blanket seemed to sink into a concave. It wasn't until he felt the sand gritting against the back of his head that he realised he'd slid onto his back. Sirius Black, no longer in Padfoot form, was now tracing his tongue along the tennis boy's collarbone.
Both were completely naked. This bothered neither.
Shiraishi arched upward. He opened his mouth to hiss his approval, but nothing came out. Instead, an insistent ringing blared through the dorm room.
He jolted awake, as if electrified. His eyes shot open. He glanced at his alarm clock. It read 6:30. "Heh, that's one for the books," he chuckled, lying back into his blankets, gathering his thoughts.
The thought occurred to him to check for holes in his socks, but most of him knew better than that.
Hirakoba batted his eyelashes at Shiraishi again. "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." He mentally stumbled over the next line. These were strong brownies. Everything looked shiny and pretty. Shiraishi in particular. Hirakoba sufficed for climbing into the former Shitenhouji captain's lap, placing their foreheads together. His face was stuck in a grin.
"Hi." Shiraishi hummed a few bars of the familiar tune. "Pretty, and witty and gay?" He poked at Hirakoba's bare shoulder, then pulled the boy's long hair back and out of the way. His hands smoothed down the tanned skin of Hirakoba's back, while Shiraishi hovered his lips just over the other's. "Tell me."
Hirakoba could only feel the warmth of Shiraishi's breath against his mouth. "Hmmm?" he said intelligently, eyes glassy.
Shiraishi gave a soft laugh. He slid a hand into Hirakoba's waistband. "Do you often listen to music naked?"
Hirakoba answered with a sound he'd yet to hear himself make any time outside of 'personal playtime'.
At the same time, there came that insistent ringing again. Shiraishi would have sworn and stabbed something had there been more than a split second of realisation before he awoke with his hand down his own pants.
Shiraishi gave his surroundings a scrutinising look, brow raised. He was about to comment when somewhere behind him he heard someone shout, "Hey, walking milk factory!"
He turned to see Train Heartnet waving and making cow eyes at Hatsuharu of the Sohma family. Haru was with Sunako. Both were seated on motorcycles. Tire tracks circled and figure-eighted around them. Occasionally Haru would lean over and lick her on the cheek, or give a bored moo.
Shiraishi whistled appreciatively. Familiar faces were always welcome in uncharted territory. "Howdy, strangers!" he called out, waving.
As he made his way over, Shiraishi didn't bat an eye as he watched Sunako hug Haru, turning the teenage boy into a large white and black cow. Train's eyes were heart-shaped as they bugged out. He clasped his hands to his chest. "My dream... come... true...." He wibbled as he hopped onto Haru-the-cow's back. "Time to ride the cow boy! Yeehaw~!"
Shiraishi pumped his fist into the air, suddenly at Sunako's side. "Shall we vacate the premises?"
Sunako held her hand to her forehead, eyes wide. "You're- so- DAZZLING!"
"Hey, come join us!" yelled Train from Haru's back. Haru was loping around, grinning like a maniac. Bottles of milk were floating around them, hovering in the air. He grabbed one and took a sip. "Mmmm," he said with a dreamy sigh.
Shiraishi watched the two for a while, then turned his attention back to Sunako. He nodded, motioned toward Train, then said, "Fuji-kun stole your make-up first kiss. But you were drunk. How 'bout a sober lip pucker?"
Sunako flushed. He plucked a bottle of milk from the air, dipped his finger in it and dragged the tip along the underside of her chin. Sunako's brain nearly broke.
The events that transpired after that were a blur. All Shiraishi recalled before waking in a heated sweat and in soiled sheets were the llamas singing and dancing as the four of them-- them being Shiraishi, Train, Haru and Sunako--
...
...
It was Shiraishi's turn for brain breakage.
"Let's play a game~!" sang one twin. Both of them posed, grinning Cheshire grins.
"Oh?" Shiraishi cocked his brow, but gave no other sign of interest.
The twins gave a mutual look of evil, then turned toward Shiraishi. "This one we call the 'Guess Which One is Hikaru' game." The one who spoke slunk forward and held up a blindfold.
"Level Two," chimed in the other.
Intrigued, Shiraishi crossed his arms, allowing himself to grin. A bit of tongue poked through. "Go on."
The twin closer to him answered by placing the blindfold over the tennis boy's eyes, tying the ends in a tight knot. He spun Shiraishi in place. Unable to see, Shiraishi suddenly became vastly more aware of the hands roaming over his body. The other twin must have joined them, because one of them was obviously in front of him, hands gliding over hips, back, waist, yet from behind, in Shiraishi's ear, he heard one of them whisper, "Which is Hikaru?"
A wet warmth. The speaker had grazed his ear with his tongue. Shiraishi's breath hitched. His eyelids fluttered beneath the blindfold. It was maddening, not being able to see. Yet, intriguing. To a degree.
One twin in front, one twin behind. They slid around him, switching spots, and soon there were two sets of hands exploring Shiraishi's skin. Back, chest, hips, flanks. His body was slowly reacting to their touch. He wanted to curl his spine. Instead he moaned and bit his tongue.
One hand slid below the waistband of his pants.
"Whose hand is that?" asked the one behind Shiraishi. Shiraishi could hear the curling grin in his voice as he teased.
The one in front bent forward to drag his tongue along the column of Shiraishi's throat. "Whose tongue is that?"
"You get one guess," they said in unison, "which of us is Hikaru."
Shiraishi was still groaning as his arm lashed out and he smacked the snooze button on his alarm clock, frantic as if defusing a bomb with only seconds to spare.
"Do you plan to ask that every time?" Fuji gave a chuckle. His eyes remained closed. His smile was sweet like honey but Shiraishi saw through it every time.
"Perhaps." Shiraishi took a sharp intake of breath as Fuji bent close and nipped him on the neck, just below the jaw. He swallowed.
"Then I plan to answer every time, press the right buttons first," Fuji said against his throat. He let his hands wander across the smooth planes of Shiraishi's chest.
A pleased sigh escaped Shiraishi as his skin reacted to the subtle touch of Fuji's fingers. He glanced around the room, at the potted cacti everywhere. On the windowsill, on top of the bookcases, in a long, narrow wall rack designed specifically for petite potted cacti--
"Since when did you have this many cacti?" It was as if they'd doubled, no, tripled in number since his last visit to Fuji's place.
"Do you like them?" Fuji asked, purposefully avoiding his question.
"Fuji-kun..." Shiraishi laughed. "What's that got tongk--" His words were cut short by the feel of nails raking along his flank. His eyes nearly crossed.
"You were saying?" Fuji pulled back. There was a fleeting flash of blue as Shiraishi glimpsed him wink an eye open at him.
By the time Shiraishi could register coherent thoughts once more, he was already awake.
That was the last time he ate cactus ice cream and special brownies for dessert right before bed.
Shiraishi was in the middle of receiving the most wondrous toe bath imaginable (courtesy of one very enthusiastic Padfoot), when a line of chorus girls paraded by and made themselves known. They sang, struck a pose, and put the moves on. With a groan and a drugged look in his eyes, Shiraishi craned his head over his shoulder to watch them dance.
The chorus girl closest to him winked and kicked up her leg. She started singing Elvis.
Shiraishi grinned. He winked back.
Padfoot continued licking Shiraishi's toes.
Suddenly the sand beneath Shiraishi's blanket seemed to sink into a concave. It wasn't until he felt the sand gritting against the back of his head that he realised he'd slid onto his back. Sirius Black, no longer in Padfoot form, was now tracing his tongue along the tennis boy's collarbone.
Both were completely naked. This bothered neither.
Shiraishi arched upward. He opened his mouth to hiss his approval, but nothing came out. Instead, an insistent ringing blared through the dorm room.
He jolted awake, as if electrified. His eyes shot open. He glanced at his alarm clock. It read 6:30. "Heh, that's one for the books," he chuckled, lying back into his blankets, gathering his thoughts.
The thought occurred to him to check for holes in his socks, but most of him knew better than that.
Hirakoba batted his eyelashes at Shiraishi again. "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." He mentally stumbled over the next line. These were strong brownies. Everything looked shiny and pretty. Shiraishi in particular. Hirakoba sufficed for climbing into the former Shitenhouji captain's lap, placing their foreheads together. His face was stuck in a grin.
"Hi." Shiraishi hummed a few bars of the familiar tune. "Pretty, and witty and gay?" He poked at Hirakoba's bare shoulder, then pulled the boy's long hair back and out of the way. His hands smoothed down the tanned skin of Hirakoba's back, while Shiraishi hovered his lips just over the other's. "Tell me."
Hirakoba could only feel the warmth of Shiraishi's breath against his mouth. "Hmmm?" he said intelligently, eyes glassy.
Shiraishi gave a soft laugh. He slid a hand into Hirakoba's waistband. "Do you often listen to music naked?"
Hirakoba answered with a sound he'd yet to hear himself make any time outside of 'personal playtime'.
At the same time, there came that insistent ringing again. Shiraishi would have sworn and stabbed something had there been more than a split second of realisation before he awoke with his hand down his own pants.
Shiraishi gave his surroundings a scrutinising look, brow raised. He was about to comment when somewhere behind him he heard someone shout, "Hey, walking milk factory!"
He turned to see Train Heartnet waving and making cow eyes at Hatsuharu of the Sohma family. Haru was with Sunako. Both were seated on motorcycles. Tire tracks circled and figure-eighted around them. Occasionally Haru would lean over and lick her on the cheek, or give a bored moo.
Shiraishi whistled appreciatively. Familiar faces were always welcome in uncharted territory. "Howdy, strangers!" he called out, waving.
As he made his way over, Shiraishi didn't bat an eye as he watched Sunako hug Haru, turning the teenage boy into a large white and black cow. Train's eyes were heart-shaped as they bugged out. He clasped his hands to his chest. "My dream... come... true...." He wibbled as he hopped onto Haru-the-cow's back. "Time to ride the cow boy! Yeehaw~!"
Shiraishi pumped his fist into the air, suddenly at Sunako's side. "Shall we vacate the premises?"
Sunako held her hand to her forehead, eyes wide. "You're- so- DAZZLING!"
"Hey, come join us!" yelled Train from Haru's back. Haru was loping around, grinning like a maniac. Bottles of milk were floating around them, hovering in the air. He grabbed one and took a sip. "Mmmm," he said with a dreamy sigh.
Shiraishi watched the two for a while, then turned his attention back to Sunako. He nodded, motioned toward Train, then said, "Fuji-kun stole your make-up first kiss. But you were drunk. How 'bout a sober lip pucker?"
Sunako flushed. He plucked a bottle of milk from the air, dipped his finger in it and dragged the tip along the underside of her chin. Sunako's brain nearly broke.
The events that transpired after that were a blur. All Shiraishi recalled before waking in a heated sweat and in soiled sheets were the llamas singing and dancing as the four of them-- them being Shiraishi, Train, Haru and Sunako--
...
...
It was Shiraishi's turn for brain breakage.
"Let's play a game~!" sang one twin. Both of them posed, grinning Cheshire grins.
"Oh?" Shiraishi cocked his brow, but gave no other sign of interest.
The twins gave a mutual look of evil, then turned toward Shiraishi. "This one we call the 'Guess Which One is Hikaru' game." The one who spoke slunk forward and held up a blindfold.
"Level Two," chimed in the other.
Intrigued, Shiraishi crossed his arms, allowing himself to grin. A bit of tongue poked through. "Go on."
The twin closer to him answered by placing the blindfold over the tennis boy's eyes, tying the ends in a tight knot. He spun Shiraishi in place. Unable to see, Shiraishi suddenly became vastly more aware of the hands roaming over his body. The other twin must have joined them, because one of them was obviously in front of him, hands gliding over hips, back, waist, yet from behind, in Shiraishi's ear, he heard one of them whisper, "Which is Hikaru?"
A wet warmth. The speaker had grazed his ear with his tongue. Shiraishi's breath hitched. His eyelids fluttered beneath the blindfold. It was maddening, not being able to see. Yet, intriguing. To a degree.
One twin in front, one twin behind. They slid around him, switching spots, and soon there were two sets of hands exploring Shiraishi's skin. Back, chest, hips, flanks. His body was slowly reacting to their touch. He wanted to curl his spine. Instead he moaned and bit his tongue.
One hand slid below the waistband of his pants.
"Whose hand is that?" asked the one behind Shiraishi. Shiraishi could hear the curling grin in his voice as he teased.
The one in front bent forward to drag his tongue along the column of Shiraishi's throat. "Whose tongue is that?"
"You get one guess," they said in unison, "which of us is Hikaru."
Shiraishi was still groaning as his arm lashed out and he smacked the snooze button on his alarm clock, frantic as if defusing a bomb with only seconds to spare.
"Do you plan to ask that every time?" Fuji gave a chuckle. His eyes remained closed. His smile was sweet like honey but Shiraishi saw through it every time.
"Perhaps." Shiraishi took a sharp intake of breath as Fuji bent close and nipped him on the neck, just below the jaw. He swallowed.
"Then I plan to answer every time, press the right buttons first," Fuji said against his throat. He let his hands wander across the smooth planes of Shiraishi's chest.
A pleased sigh escaped Shiraishi as his skin reacted to the subtle touch of Fuji's fingers. He glanced around the room, at the potted cacti everywhere. On the windowsill, on top of the bookcases, in a long, narrow wall rack designed specifically for petite potted cacti--
"Since when did you have this many cacti?" It was as if they'd doubled, no, tripled in number since his last visit to Fuji's place.
"Do you like them?" Fuji asked, purposefully avoiding his question.
"Fuji-kun..." Shiraishi laughed. "What's that got tongk--" His words were cut short by the feel of nails raking along his flank. His eyes nearly crossed.
"You were saying?" Fuji pulled back. There was a fleeting flash of blue as Shiraishi glimpsed him wink an eye open at him.
By the time Shiraishi could register coherent thoughts once more, he was already awake.
That was the last time he ate cactus ice cream and special brownies for dessert right before bed.