[MotoMoto] 01
I am being eaten alive by mosquitoes, so the only solution is to fic about it.
Untitled
Motochika/Motonari, rated G
The mosquitoes are as thick as sesame paste tonight, and Motonari more than contemplates lighting them on fire. The sixteen year old drags logs onto the beach, tosses in some flint, and raises his blade to ignite flames of justice and fury---and some stupid idiot tackles him from out of nowhere.
Motonari kicks that eye-patched idiot in the face, but the larger boy grabs his neck. A snarl tugs at the Mouri's thin lips when the two hit the ground but-- but, but when that idiot pirate's nails scrape against the back of his oddly bumpy neck, a whimper not all unlike a low purr escapes his mouth.
The idiot pirate stares. Under the moonlight's reflection off the lapping waves, the Mouri looks even more like a rare vegetable.
Motonari stares back. And scowls. And, as his hands fly to the back of his neck as if protecting a secret, he immediately attempts to wiggle free from under that idiot's grasp.
"You ... are you allergic to something?" the young Motochika, unsure of what just happened, asks blankly while rubbing his thumb along the back of the scowling vegetable's neck.
"Go away," Motonari grits between his teeth, shoving against the idiot pirate's face.
"I can't. You're going to burn the entire beach."
"I'm burning mosquitoes," Motonari mutters under his breath while clawing against that idiot pirate's cheeks. He wonders if the fair haired princess even has enough brains to register pain.
Slowly but surely, understanding dawns the idiot pirate's face and a shark-bite grin flashes in the night. "Getting eaten alive, Motonari?"
"Who is Motonari, you bastard?" Motonari spits as he begins slapping against that idiot pirate's skull. Goddamn Motochika for being a freaking hulk of a moron--whatever happened to the dainty little princess across the bay?
However, before Motonari can start on the punches, the idiot pirate pushes the budding vegetable-look-alike over with enough force to knock the wind out the thinner boy's stomach. Motochika then firmly parks his butt on his rival's back, and, amidst the cacophony of complaints and threats, begins to massage and gently scratch the back of Motonari's neck.
--and, for a few seconds, the Mouri cannot breathe. He bites down on his tongue as the thrill of sweet relief runs up his spine and lifts into his skull, washing over like cool waves over summer heat. Motonari, despite himself, leans against Motochika's fingers as they sweep against the base of his neck--
"You know," the idiot pirate begins brightly and proudly, "you're kind of like a cucumber-shaped cat."
Later, Motochika's father will complain that his son should take better care of his remaining eye (like possibly avoid getting it punched), but the latter will simply smile like a fool and warn his servants to avoid the beach at night lest they get burned.
Untitled
Motochika/Motonari, rated G
The mosquitoes are as thick as sesame paste tonight, and Motonari more than contemplates lighting them on fire. The sixteen year old drags logs onto the beach, tosses in some flint, and raises his blade to ignite flames of justice and fury---and some stupid idiot tackles him from out of nowhere.
Motonari kicks that eye-patched idiot in the face, but the larger boy grabs his neck. A snarl tugs at the Mouri's thin lips when the two hit the ground but-- but, but when that idiot pirate's nails scrape against the back of his oddly bumpy neck, a whimper not all unlike a low purr escapes his mouth.
The idiot pirate stares. Under the moonlight's reflection off the lapping waves, the Mouri looks even more like a rare vegetable.
Motonari stares back. And scowls. And, as his hands fly to the back of his neck as if protecting a secret, he immediately attempts to wiggle free from under that idiot's grasp.
"You ... are you allergic to something?" the young Motochika, unsure of what just happened, asks blankly while rubbing his thumb along the back of the scowling vegetable's neck.
"Go away," Motonari grits between his teeth, shoving against the idiot pirate's face.
"I can't. You're going to burn the entire beach."
"I'm burning mosquitoes," Motonari mutters under his breath while clawing against that idiot pirate's cheeks. He wonders if the fair haired princess even has enough brains to register pain.
Slowly but surely, understanding dawns the idiot pirate's face and a shark-bite grin flashes in the night. "Getting eaten alive, Motonari?"
"Who is Motonari, you bastard?" Motonari spits as he begins slapping against that idiot pirate's skull. Goddamn Motochika for being a freaking hulk of a moron--whatever happened to the dainty little princess across the bay?
However, before Motonari can start on the punches, the idiot pirate pushes the budding vegetable-look-alike over with enough force to knock the wind out the thinner boy's stomach. Motochika then firmly parks his butt on his rival's back, and, amidst the cacophony of complaints and threats, begins to massage and gently scratch the back of Motonari's neck.
--and, for a few seconds, the Mouri cannot breathe. He bites down on his tongue as the thrill of sweet relief runs up his spine and lifts into his skull, washing over like cool waves over summer heat. Motonari, despite himself, leans against Motochika's fingers as they sweep against the base of his neck--
"You know," the idiot pirate begins brightly and proudly, "you're kind of like a cucumber-shaped cat."
Later, Motochika's father will complain that his son should take better care of his remaining eye (like possibly avoid getting it punched), but the latter will simply smile like a fool and warn his servants to avoid the beach at night lest they get burned.