FIC: Rewind Forward (D1) 62/63
Title: Rewind Forward (62/63)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
It's a chamber of pink.
It's a lair of girl.
It might have begun as a ryokan room, the same as his and Yagyuu's, but here it's morphed into piles of candy-coloured clothes, a forest of makeup bottles and hair products (some of which Niou recognizes, okay, and maybe he's used Gatsby wax a lot too, but GROSS, girls!) and Hello Kitty and rhinestone cellphones and jewelry dangling and even a couple bras hanging from hooks on the walls and the rafters above the tv alcove.
Niou's skin crawls as the insect germs of girls start to infect his body.
Yagyuu sits up in the middle of this feminine garbage dump. He looks around with a bland smile. The girls giggle and toss their clothes into bags and corners and one, the oldest, breaks out into a grin. Niou sticks close to the door, lurking in the shadows that the fluorescent light doesn't quite reach.
A girl bounces up to him. Pigtails from the golf course. She pouts. It's unattractive and Niou clenches his jaw tighter. She tugs on the arms he's crossed over his chest. "Neeee," she whines, "Natsumi-chan wants you to come play too."
"And Mariko!" Braid-girl shouts. She claps her hands.
"Me too!" Long-face says. "Yuki does too!"
"And me!" the oldest says. She's not so dumb as to refer to herself by name, but she looks just as girly, winking at Niou and running her tongue along her teeth.
There is a bottle of hairspray in the middle of the area the girls cleared.
A wave of shivering fear washes over Niou. He parts his lips and looks at Yagyuu. His eyes are so wide that Niou can feel them shriveling up from dryness. No!
"I've never met girls from Akita before," Yagyuu says.
No, you dork! Niou wants to scream. We leave now! Don't play their game! Don't fall for their shit!
It was supposed to be about him and Yagyuu here, alone, together.
Instead, Niou gets forced to the floor in a pow-wow circle to play spin the bottle with four girls he doesn't know and doesn't like and is in absolutely no way attracted to.
No penis.
No glasses.
No perfectly parted hair. No socks pulled up to knees. No straight back and bland, dorky smile, either.
Horse face claps her hands at everything the oldest girl says. They're sisters, Niou picks up on that, and the oldest goes to the prefectural university. Name: Mina-san. She sits the closest to Yagyuu, rubbing his thigh with hers.
Niou's mole twitches.
His eye ticks when she reaches for the bottle and stops. "Do you boys have girlfriends?" she asks. "They would be mad if we played together."
"That's right they would," Niou agrees. He grabs the bag of open popcorn and pops a handful into his mouth. He flicks pieces across the room, aiming for the dangling bras.
But no one listens to him. Yagyuu has to correct him. Yagyuu has to tell the truth. "We don't," he says.
But his truths aren't truths, either, only by half. Niou waits. He pulls his fingers back and hesitates on a flick, half-wishing that Yagyuu would say something more, that he's taken, wanted, busy, not free to do this!
Niou won't beg.
But at the same time, he won't hold Yagyuu back.
Golf girls clap. Mina-san pats Yagyuu's shoulder. Niou crunches the popcorn in his fist and brushes it off onto the floor. Natsumi spins and lands on her friend.
Girls ask the stupidest questions.
"How far have you ever gone with a boy?"
Giggle giggle, hand wave, try to play it off with another giggle and then cave. Yuki gasps and her sister whistles. Mariko says, "He had his hand down my shirt."
Niou rolls his eyes. His head pounds. His stomach is starting to eat itself with the desire to get away, but Niou's feet are leaden and his knees cramped, sitting like this, as far as he can from girly things that might touch him.
Next spin: Yuki.
Truth: do you masturbate?
Niou snorts.
Mina-san smiles at him. Her eyes are narrow and black, older. She licks her lips again. Niou squirms. He stares right back at her, unflinching and hard. If nothing else, it keeps him from looking at Yagyuu and giving them away. He doesn't want these girls to touch Yagyuu. He doesn't want them to know, either.
Yuki is bright red. She stutters and mumbles. Niou is close enough to hear her say, "Once or twice…"
To rub the salt of embarrassment even more, Niou smirks. "Did you come too?"
"Niou-kun!"
Niou rolls on the floor, faking a loud laugh. Guilt jabs his sides-Yagyuu's disappointment has a way of burrowing under his skin and making him feel on edge. Niou's smirk is bitter, crooked and it falters when Yagyuu purses his lips.
The next spin comes. Niou turns to the bottle just as it stops spinning. Compass-like, it points, clear as crystal to Yagyuu.
Niou's ears ring.
His vision blurs.
Outside, between the faintest patter of the dying rain and the gero gero croaks of frogs, an owl hoots, long and lonely.
Niou swallows.
He can hear Yuki's dark smile. Niou can taste her anticipation, thick and palpable in the room as she leans forward and says, low and steady, "Truth…or dare?"
"Dare." There is no hesitation to Yagyuu's answer.
Niou's nostrils whistle softly with the sound of his breathing. One, two, three, five, seven, eleven…
"Kiss the person in the room you like best."
Niou closes his eyes.
He knew it.
He stands up in the middle of the giggling. It sloughs off, breaking up into questions and shouts, where are you going, Niou-kun, why are you leaving, Masa-san, hey! don't go, your turn will come up…
For years, deep down, Niou's been jealous of Sanada. He's been jealous of Sanada's tennis, he's been jealous of Sanada having someone, he's been jealous of Sanada being in love. He's never wanted to be Sanada-gross, yuck, no way! But he can respect the way Sanada deserves respect for all the shit he's been through and the fact he is solid, dependable and holds his chin up high even through defeat.
Sanada would walk away from this mess.
Niou takes a deep. He squares his shoulders, pushing them back to stand up straighter, even with a girl pawing at his shin. With his chin up high, even though his voice shakes in his ears, Niou looks at Yagyuu.
"I'm leaving," he says.
Take it, or leave it, Yagyuu.
Niou stuffs his feet into the plastic-y slipper and shuts the door behind himself, blocking the protests and the whines with the slide of the door. He ducks around the corner, then Niou leans against the wall. The corridor is shadowy, lit up in corners and long doppelgangers of ikebana vases, stretching out dark fingers across the floor. Niou's body shakes. His chest shudders as he exhales. He's terrified to wait for Yagyuu. He has no control over Yagyuu's response and it makes Niou's eyes sting to think about it.
Their room is dark and cold-Niou must have left the A/C on when they went to dinner. Now, the tatami mats press dry when his feet pad over them. Niou leaves the lights off. He sighs. He shuts the air conditioning off too. The room is too cold, if possible, in contrast with the moist heat of too many people crammed into that girls' cave.
His eyes flick to the door, but there is nothing, no one there. Niou doesn't want to think about what Yagyuu might be doing there. With four girls, away from civilization, who are desperate for male company beyond their parents. It makes him feel more than a little ill to see the lipstick kisses smeared on Yagyuu's neck, or their squeals as his hand slipped up their tops and cupped their tits…
Niou closes his eyes. His feet made soft, sticky sounds as he walks. He pushes open the screens and floods the room with the diffuse light from other rooms in the ryokan streaming in through the window, broken up by the trees and plants that seem to grow everywhere here.
The futons have been rolled out again.
He hates the heat, but a desire to touch the humid air floods through his veins. Niou cranks a window open. He stands, feeling the heat lick his face, feeling it slither down his back in the first rolling drops of sweat. The low electric buzz of insects fills the room, rolling in with the waves of muggy, summer heat that even the night refuses to dissipate. The rain from before has made everything stickier, muggier. From here, Niou can hear the barest sounds of other people, too, including-he thinks-the distinct sound of girlish giggles and high-pitched squeals.
"Fuck you," Niou whispers under his breath. He digs his fingernails into the window sill, but he can't dig deep enough. He grinds his teeth and seethes, wishing he could rip the ledge off and smash it through the window towards the girls' room.
He grabs the window sill hard, until his body shakes and he lets go with a hissing growl. Niou stomps away from the window, back turned to the light, and he grabs his tennisbag. There's got to be a place somewhere to slam balls against a wall and take out his anger, put it into something that almost matters.
Niou grabs the door and starts to open it when the door catches, pushes back and opens for him.
It's like a mirror stands there. A doppelganger. His other self, staring at him with glasses flashing bright, like an LCD screen, and lips pursed together.
Yagyuu blinks. His glasses glimmer as he steps inside, around Niou. He doesn't ask where Niou is going, although he moves his head, taking in Niou's tennisbag and bristled expression.
In a cold, hard voice, Yagyuu says, "Lock the door."
The trees rustle outside. Niou can almost smell their resin and the wet damp of leaves. His body stiffens with the memory of that dream, where he was on his knees, hand around his dick, hard and shaking as Yagyuu told him to jerk himself off. His eyes are wide now, his hair standing on end. Niou is trapped between Yagyuu and the wall and the doorway. His heart slams into his chest, squeezing his ribs to the breaking point.
He can't breathe.
Niou darts left. He runs past Yagyuu, but Yagyuu pivots on his heel, blocking the doorway. His eyes are hidden in the gleam of his lenses, reflecting the light streaming in from the window.
Niou can see himself in the reflection. His eyes are round. His hair sticks up. His face is white and his chest panting as he struggles to get around Yagyuu.
The first touch of Yagyuu's hand to his arm is electric. Niou hisses. He jerks back, cradling his arm to his chest. Yagyuu's palm burns, even as a memory.
"So which one did you kiss?" Niou snaps. He tries to duck under Yagyuu's arm. Yagyuu grabs him. The tennisbag crashes to the floor. Niou struggles, twisting and turning and baring his teeth. Yagyuu's hand is so tight around Niou's wrist that his hand explodes with pain. Niou shouts. Yagyuu shoves him into the wall, banging Niou's head back. Stunned, his head reels for a moment, enough time for Yagyuu to take control. He pushes. Niou creeps back onto his toes.
The hand around Niou's trembles.
Yagyuu's chin shakes. His throat bobs. His glasses slip down his face. His breath is hot and salty, whistling between his lips.
"You know I didn't kiss any of them," he says.
Niou turns away. He stares at the window with glassy vision. Fingers pry his chin away, turning it back to face Yagyuu.
"Don't be that way," Yagyuu says. "Niou-kun," he adds, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers slacken on Niou's chin. Instead of digging into the soft parts under his jaw, Yagyuu trails his fingertips over Niou's chin, caressing and smoothing his mole, over and over until Niou's eyelashes flutter and he sucks in a shuddered breath.
"Don't," Niou says.
"They're only girls," Yagyuu says. He nudges a thigh between Niou's and Niou can feel a hard bulge. He closes his eyes all the way, but his heart flutters. His pulse screams doki doki and rabu rabu that infects his brain and makes him melt with the heat.
"Tennis partner," Yagyuu whispers. His glasses frames bump Niou's nose and Niou is sliding into Yagyuu, forgiving him, allowing him, letting Yagyuu touch his hip and tease the hem of his t-shirt.
"Bastard…" Niou moans. He throws his head back against the wall. A hanging scroll shakes along with his breathing. Hot fingers stroke his belly and then Yagyuu's head is there, his mouth is burning and wet, his tongue on fire in Niou's belly button. Niou gasps. His legs are jelly, trembling and sinking if it weren't for Yagyuu holding him up.
The zipper of Niou's shorts hums like the insects in the porch lights. The room is darkening as an outside light directly across from the window shuts off. Niou can't see Yagyuu's expression. He reaches down. "No…" His voice is a sob, grating in Niou's ears as his face smoulders with shame. He digs his hands into Yagyuu's hair as Yagyuu digs thumbs into Niou's hips.
Yagyuu pushes Niou's underpants down.
The tension is palpable in the moment as Niou chokes on a moan. He yanks Yagyuu's hair, messing it up with fisting hands as he struggles to hold onto something physical as his body melts away, leaden and feathery and washing over with flames of arousal. Yagyuu's nose is in his pubes. Yagyuu's fingers are moving down, but Niou is nailed to the wall, his dick throbbing, harder and deeper the further Yagyuu ventures.
There's something wet, something unbearably hot and sliding over the head of his dick. Niou sucks his stomach in, pulls back and snaps his eyes open. He starts to moan, "No-" but his words are cut off by a drawn out groan as he thrusts, unable, unwilling to hold back from the assault on his senses.
Everything rushes to his balls and the electricity in Yagyuu's fingers, caressing them, rubbing them, cupping them and rolling the skin. Everything rushes to his dick as Niou chokes, eyes stung with tears as his body shakes and Yagyuu sucks, harder, tighter, sliding up, then down, testing and teasing how far Niou will go. How far Yagyuu can take him.
Which isn't very far. Niou grunts. His balls constrict. His dick is so tight, the feeling sprung up, wound tighter and tighter until something snaps. His belly explodes and he's bucking into Yagyuu, pushing as deep as he can go and Yagyuu is gagging, making funny noises and pushing back on Niou as Niou mewls and comes and sobs his orgasm into the arm thrown over his mouth.
He slides to the floor, mourning the loss of Yagyuu's hot mouth. It was there for a moment or two, but now, gasping for air as the saliva cools on his skin and Yagyuu wipes his face with a handkerchief, the memory is fresh and alive, his body humming with feeling. Niou is desperate for more, for Yagyuu, pressed to him, naked skin to naked skin.
It isn't a long wait. His underpants, bunched around his thighs with his shorts, are uncomfortable, constricting. Niou pushes them off. He pulls his t-shirt off and chucks it across the room, somewhere into the indeterminate darkness of their bags. The only light is from a charging cellphone, buzzing a soft, electric blue on the lacquer table. Niou can make out the faint shapes of Yagyuu's shadow moving across the wall. Clothing rustles. Yagyuu clicks his tongue. A zipper rips-Yagyuu's this time-followed by a plastic crinkle and more clothes. Yagyuu hisses, bumping into the side of something with a dull thud. His glasses made a soft clink when he sets them down.
Yagyuu holds a breath, hesitating. Niou knows that Yagyuu is waiting for a tease, that he's blind and can't see and then Niou should snicker. Instead, Niou says nothing. The quiet darkness makes him feel heavy, and a little sad, too, and he doesn't know why. Maybe it's Marui's message, maybe it's the residual bitterness towards those stupid girls, maybe it's the fact they're leaving tomorrow morning.
Maybe it's the fact everything is different.
But then again, Niou likes change. He likes and prizes his adaptability-on the courts, in school, wherever. He refuses to break the moment with a guilty comment, as much as it might be entirely in his character to do it, so much that Yagyuu expects it.
So, all Niou says is Yagyuu's name, barely a whisper on his lips. He touches Yagyuu's shoulder, warm and solid in the darkness. He rests his chin down, leaning up just enough to turn his face to Yagyuu's ear. Yagyuu's fingers curl around Niou's, twining together as Niou murmurs the two words he'd never, ever say during tennis.
There is a sharp intake of breath. "You want it?" Yagyuu asks, a bit too fast, a bit too surprised. His heart pounds through the back of his ribs, and his spine shivers against Niou's belly.
Niou hums. He won't say it again.
"Can we turn on the lights?" Yagyuu asks.
Niou swallows. His throat is thick, raw with the moans from before. He chews on his lip, tasting salt, blood, sweat. "Okay," he says.
I can't see well enough is what Yagyuu doesn’t need to say. His fumbling, his rustling is tell-tale enough. The light comes on, a flood of harsh, yellow brightness that cuts through the darkest shadows. Yagyuu pulls the cord again, then a second time, until nothing but the weak, central coil glows, dim and buzzing with insects.
He turns on the A/C too, then he sinks to his knees on one of the futons, rolling a condom onto his dick. Niou's heart skips a beat. Seeing it this close makes it seem that much more real, that much more finite.
Being on his hands and knees makes Niou cringe. He hangs his head and he can see his dick, straining between his legs, hard with anticipation of the cool, slimy fingers sliding down the cleft of his ass. Niou gasps. Yagyuu moans. He kisses Niou's shoulder, the side of his neck. Niou turns his face in toward a sloppy half-kiss as Yagyuu pushes a finger inside. Niou squeezes his eyes shut, breathing out through his nose as the second finger wedges inside. It really does feel weird, uncomfortably tight and awkward.
But the moans Yagyuu makes are delicious. The groans and grunts, breathy little sighs as Yagyuu pulls his fingers out, replacing them with a thicker, hotter, blunter cock. He's getting better, lasting longer, thrusting deeper, moving with Niou as they buck and slap, motions back and forth like a rally, pushing and straining towards the match point. A hand around his dick makes Niou's elbows give out. He slumps forward, squeezing his ass tight as the shuddering ripples rise in his belly, hotter and hotter, number and number, moving towards that peak and then Yagyuu stiffens, gasping and twisting his face up and pushing up, driving himself inside and Niou shouts something that means nothing and everything because Yagyuu hits something that sends Niou over the edge, rising rising rising and then crashing down in a leaden mess of liquid bones and shaking sobs.
In the soft, wafting air conditioning, Yagyuu's body is a welcome warmth. Niou grabs an arm and pulls it tight to his chest, sucking the tips of Yagyuu's fingers, which taste salty and a bit funky, but it’s his left hand, safe and musky. Yagyuu mutters, "The light…" His voice trails off. He stumbles when he stands. Niou doesn't let go when Yagyuu tugs. Yagyuu stretches, barely reaching the cord, but he manages. The cord swings in the comfortable black, hitting the sides of the cooling bulb with little raps.
The cellphone charging by the tv glows blue; it's the only light, save for the faintest cracks coming in through the screen as the room slowly lightens to a penetrable grey.
Faggot. Marui's voice is in his head, laughing and pointing and waggling his puffy fingers.
Niou cringes.
He squeezes his hold around Yagyuu's arm. He bites the skin of Yagyuu's thumb. Yagyuu makes a noise in the back of his throat.
"The fatty knows," Niou says.
"About what?"
Anger flares inside, stretching Niou's lungs to his ribs, grating the inside of his twisting stomach. "About…" He forces himself to sigh. "About this."
"Us?" Uncertainty lengthens Yagyuu's words. "Hn, are you sure, Masaharu?"
Niou shivers. His name sinks into his ears, silken and smooth on Yagyuu's tongue. Yagyuu licks Niou's jaw. He sucks on Niou's earlobe in a slimy way that still makes Niou twitch and curl his toes.
"Yes!" he says. "He sent a message calling us…me…"
Niou lets his words hang. If he says it out loud, it's real. If he says it out loud, it's pathetic and creepy. He's already clinging to Yagyuu's arm, letting Yagyuu's long fingers draw out patterns and characters on his chest and collar. Yagyuu's fingers brush over Niou's nipples, making them stiffen and twist. Niou hisses.
"Since when did you care what Marui-kun thought?" Yagyuu asks. "You're so sure that he's not your friend."
"He isn't!" Niou insists. "Yagyuu!"
Yagyuu hums, so sure of himself as he kisses Niou's neck, like it's nothing. Niou lets go of Yagyuu's arm, peeling his sticky fingers off Yagyuu's skin. He sniffs. Yagyuu holds him tight, with the arm across Niou's chest, refusing to leave.
Niou sniffs again.
"His Genius is a bit dense," Yagyuu says. "You and I are going to play doubles. We'll win the Nationals."
Niou frowns. "Stop changing the subject, blind man."
Yagyuu stops sucking on Niou's earlobe. He traces his tongue through the dips and swirls of Niou's ear. He rolls a leg over Niou's, rubbing his dick on Niou's hip, half-hard and wanting more. Niou's own dick is so sensitive, throbbing on the futon cover, aching for rest and to be touched again, all at the same time. Yagyuu whispers something, the one thing that might change the subject completely.
There is something wet in his eyes that Niou can't stop. Yagyuu kisses it away, pressing his hands to the sides of Niou's face, pressing fluttering lips to Niou's cheeks.
"Me too…" Niou murmurs. He digs his hands into Yagyuu's biceps and he can't let go.
***
He's a trickster.
A master of illusion.
A flawless impersonator.
And yet, Niou can't impersonate his normal self. There are muscles in his body he didn't know existed and they are on fire from last night. He creaks in the shower. He winces when he dresses. He ruffles wax through his hair, checking himself out in the mirror, and nothing can hide the marks on his necks or the flush on his face.
The illusion of normalcy is impossible to mimic.
Yet again, Yagyuu is a useless lump under his futon cover. Even though it was his cellphone alarm that went off at seven.
There aren't any toes for Niou to tickle this morning. Yagyuu has tucked in every possible limb, every possible corner of the futon. He is utterly still, even when Niou accidentally knocks the bottle of lube off the table and it lands on top of the lump that is Yagyuu.
Niou waits. Yagyuu doesn't move. The sounds of his deep breathing are muffled. Niou puts his wristweights on, then undoing the Velcro with the loud, ripping sound as he adjusts the fit.
No movement.
Niou sniffs.
The screen walls have been pushed open. Warm sunlight melds with the cool air conditioning. Faintly, Niou can make out the low buzz of cicadas outside. It's probably hot and sticky, given the early droop of the plants already. He tiptoes around Yagyuu and, cringing and careful, he lowers himself to straddle the middle part of Yagyuu's lump. Dull pain throbs in the backs of his thighs and the insides, too. Niou rocks down, up, rubbing himself a bit, enjoying the sensation of Yagyuu's slow wiggles and confused groans.
Niou peels back the top of the futon. Yagyuu's hair clings like spider webs to the white sheet, falling back across his fuzzy eyes and open mouth. "Ngh," he says.
"Morning," Niou says.
"Nghgh," Yagyuu says. He squeezes his eyes and tries to bury himself in the approximate direction of his armpit.
Niou leans over, hissing at the flare of a cramp in his thighs. He grabs Yagyuu's glasses and starts to poke Yagyuu's ears with the frames. Yagyuu wriggles his nose. He scrunches his face up. He lets out a long, low growl before he mumbles, "Stop that!" and flails his hand into Niou's side.
"Good morning, sleepy," Niou says, sing-song and smiling.
Yagyuu glowers. He glares as he stumbles into the toilet room, naked except for his glasses. He glares as he shuffles into the shower room. Niou sits around, doing nothing, touching all of Yagyuu's things. He grabs Yagyuu's cellphone and clicks for the messages. A dozen unread messages, half from Yukimura or Sanada. The most recent, from Marui.
Bitterness floods his mouth, tasting suspiciously like bile and the growling discomfort gnawing on his guts. Niou clicks, unable to stop himself. He sucks in a breath and stiffens his back as his eyes take in the message.
hey wut time r u 2 cuming 2nite??? were gonna be at the harbour park by the scultur of the train cars by the toilets at 7. akayas sister is coming hot stuff!! ^^
It takes a long minute for Niou to pick his jaw up off the floor.
And then, he rolls over, laughing with sheer and utter relief.
***
The distinctive slick, slapping sounds and the moans filtering out under the shower room door along with tendrils of moist steam drag Niou out of his cackling. His body is unbearably light, aching from sex and laughter and so thankful Marui is too stupid after all that he's practically floating to the doorway as he listens to Yagyuu.
Listens to Yagyuu masturbate, that is.
If it wasn't for the smoky haze of the shower spray, Niou might be able to see more of Yagyuu's form-his hand curled around his pulsing, flushed cock, his head thrown back with a moan, his feet planted shoulder-width apart as his knees shake. As it is, listening to the rhythmic slapping and pants, the grunts and groans makes Niou squirm. He cups his own balls, his own dick through his shorts, rubbing them through the fabric, rough on his sensitized, aching skin.
Yagyuu makes the loveliest noises when he comes. The shower magnifies every sound, every gasp and whimper. Niou shivers. He swallows a thick lump and listens to the water shut off. He moves from the door, but Yagyuu swings the door wide open. He blinks. His glasses are beaded with water. His hair is wet, dripping over his face. The hair on his legs and arms is smoothed into patterns, all parallel and perfect.
Yagyuu doesn't even bother with a towel.
Yagyuu doesn't even bother with polite formalities.
He walks across the room the same as he walks across the tennis court, chin up high, back straight and centre, his gait easy and confident, like he owns the room.
Like he owns Niou.
Yagyuu's body is wet, pressed to Niou, but his lips are faint, vague, barely brushing kisses over Niou's mouth. Niou opens up to him. He touches the back of Yagyuu's neck, kneading the soft skin at the base of his hairline, and the downy, damp hair. I'm yours, he says, with his tongue, eager as he traces Yagyuu's lips.
But Yagyuu isn't in a hurry. He makes slow, lethargic kisses over Niou's lips, mole, chin. They are almost lazy, in the way that Yagyuu goes over the same spot, again and again, as if he can't be bothered to move. Niou moans. Come on, he thinks. He pushes himself against Yagyuu's chest. He licks Yagyuu's chin, tasting soap and sweat and intrinsic woodsyness that cloys to Yagyuu's wet skin. Come on, let's go.
The hand, flat to Niou's chest, says otherwise. Yagyuu kisses him, one last, long, searing kiss that sucks Niou's tongue from his mouth into Yagyuu's. Yagyuu lets him run his tongue over sharp teeth, over his own smooth, velvety tongue before he pulls back, saliva trailing, unwilling to fully separate them.
At breakfast, Niou is bold.
"So," he says, "the fatty doesn't know after all. He's too fucking stupid." Niou slouches back in his chair, snorting under his breath.
Yagyuu raises his eyebrows. Above the rim of his rice bowl, Niou is certain he catches a flash of Yagyuu smirking before he says, point-blank, "Told you so."
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
It's a chamber of pink.
It's a lair of girl.
It might have begun as a ryokan room, the same as his and Yagyuu's, but here it's morphed into piles of candy-coloured clothes, a forest of makeup bottles and hair products (some of which Niou recognizes, okay, and maybe he's used Gatsby wax a lot too, but GROSS, girls!) and Hello Kitty and rhinestone cellphones and jewelry dangling and even a couple bras hanging from hooks on the walls and the rafters above the tv alcove.
Niou's skin crawls as the insect germs of girls start to infect his body.
Yagyuu sits up in the middle of this feminine garbage dump. He looks around with a bland smile. The girls giggle and toss their clothes into bags and corners and one, the oldest, breaks out into a grin. Niou sticks close to the door, lurking in the shadows that the fluorescent light doesn't quite reach.
A girl bounces up to him. Pigtails from the golf course. She pouts. It's unattractive and Niou clenches his jaw tighter. She tugs on the arms he's crossed over his chest. "Neeee," she whines, "Natsumi-chan wants you to come play too."
"And Mariko!" Braid-girl shouts. She claps her hands.
"Me too!" Long-face says. "Yuki does too!"
"And me!" the oldest says. She's not so dumb as to refer to herself by name, but she looks just as girly, winking at Niou and running her tongue along her teeth.
There is a bottle of hairspray in the middle of the area the girls cleared.
A wave of shivering fear washes over Niou. He parts his lips and looks at Yagyuu. His eyes are so wide that Niou can feel them shriveling up from dryness. No!
"I've never met girls from Akita before," Yagyuu says.
No, you dork! Niou wants to scream. We leave now! Don't play their game! Don't fall for their shit!
It was supposed to be about him and Yagyuu here, alone, together.
Instead, Niou gets forced to the floor in a pow-wow circle to play spin the bottle with four girls he doesn't know and doesn't like and is in absolutely no way attracted to.
No penis.
No glasses.
No perfectly parted hair. No socks pulled up to knees. No straight back and bland, dorky smile, either.
Horse face claps her hands at everything the oldest girl says. They're sisters, Niou picks up on that, and the oldest goes to the prefectural university. Name: Mina-san. She sits the closest to Yagyuu, rubbing his thigh with hers.
Niou's mole twitches.
His eye ticks when she reaches for the bottle and stops. "Do you boys have girlfriends?" she asks. "They would be mad if we played together."
"That's right they would," Niou agrees. He grabs the bag of open popcorn and pops a handful into his mouth. He flicks pieces across the room, aiming for the dangling bras.
But no one listens to him. Yagyuu has to correct him. Yagyuu has to tell the truth. "We don't," he says.
But his truths aren't truths, either, only by half. Niou waits. He pulls his fingers back and hesitates on a flick, half-wishing that Yagyuu would say something more, that he's taken, wanted, busy, not free to do this!
Niou won't beg.
But at the same time, he won't hold Yagyuu back.
Golf girls clap. Mina-san pats Yagyuu's shoulder. Niou crunches the popcorn in his fist and brushes it off onto the floor. Natsumi spins and lands on her friend.
Girls ask the stupidest questions.
"How far have you ever gone with a boy?"
Giggle giggle, hand wave, try to play it off with another giggle and then cave. Yuki gasps and her sister whistles. Mariko says, "He had his hand down my shirt."
Niou rolls his eyes. His head pounds. His stomach is starting to eat itself with the desire to get away, but Niou's feet are leaden and his knees cramped, sitting like this, as far as he can from girly things that might touch him.
Next spin: Yuki.
Truth: do you masturbate?
Niou snorts.
Mina-san smiles at him. Her eyes are narrow and black, older. She licks her lips again. Niou squirms. He stares right back at her, unflinching and hard. If nothing else, it keeps him from looking at Yagyuu and giving them away. He doesn't want these girls to touch Yagyuu. He doesn't want them to know, either.
Yuki is bright red. She stutters and mumbles. Niou is close enough to hear her say, "Once or twice…"
To rub the salt of embarrassment even more, Niou smirks. "Did you come too?"
"Niou-kun!"
Niou rolls on the floor, faking a loud laugh. Guilt jabs his sides-Yagyuu's disappointment has a way of burrowing under his skin and making him feel on edge. Niou's smirk is bitter, crooked and it falters when Yagyuu purses his lips.
The next spin comes. Niou turns to the bottle just as it stops spinning. Compass-like, it points, clear as crystal to Yagyuu.
Niou's ears ring.
His vision blurs.
Outside, between the faintest patter of the dying rain and the gero gero croaks of frogs, an owl hoots, long and lonely.
Niou swallows.
He can hear Yuki's dark smile. Niou can taste her anticipation, thick and palpable in the room as she leans forward and says, low and steady, "Truth…or dare?"
"Dare." There is no hesitation to Yagyuu's answer.
Niou's nostrils whistle softly with the sound of his breathing. One, two, three, five, seven, eleven…
"Kiss the person in the room you like best."
Niou closes his eyes.
He knew it.
He stands up in the middle of the giggling. It sloughs off, breaking up into questions and shouts, where are you going, Niou-kun, why are you leaving, Masa-san, hey! don't go, your turn will come up…
For years, deep down, Niou's been jealous of Sanada. He's been jealous of Sanada's tennis, he's been jealous of Sanada having someone, he's been jealous of Sanada being in love. He's never wanted to be Sanada-gross, yuck, no way! But he can respect the way Sanada deserves respect for all the shit he's been through and the fact he is solid, dependable and holds his chin up high even through defeat.
Sanada would walk away from this mess.
Niou takes a deep. He squares his shoulders, pushing them back to stand up straighter, even with a girl pawing at his shin. With his chin up high, even though his voice shakes in his ears, Niou looks at Yagyuu.
"I'm leaving," he says.
Take it, or leave it, Yagyuu.
Niou stuffs his feet into the plastic-y slipper and shuts the door behind himself, blocking the protests and the whines with the slide of the door. He ducks around the corner, then Niou leans against the wall. The corridor is shadowy, lit up in corners and long doppelgangers of ikebana vases, stretching out dark fingers across the floor. Niou's body shakes. His chest shudders as he exhales. He's terrified to wait for Yagyuu. He has no control over Yagyuu's response and it makes Niou's eyes sting to think about it.
Their room is dark and cold-Niou must have left the A/C on when they went to dinner. Now, the tatami mats press dry when his feet pad over them. Niou leaves the lights off. He sighs. He shuts the air conditioning off too. The room is too cold, if possible, in contrast with the moist heat of too many people crammed into that girls' cave.
His eyes flick to the door, but there is nothing, no one there. Niou doesn't want to think about what Yagyuu might be doing there. With four girls, away from civilization, who are desperate for male company beyond their parents. It makes him feel more than a little ill to see the lipstick kisses smeared on Yagyuu's neck, or their squeals as his hand slipped up their tops and cupped their tits…
Niou closes his eyes. His feet made soft, sticky sounds as he walks. He pushes open the screens and floods the room with the diffuse light from other rooms in the ryokan streaming in through the window, broken up by the trees and plants that seem to grow everywhere here.
The futons have been rolled out again.
He hates the heat, but a desire to touch the humid air floods through his veins. Niou cranks a window open. He stands, feeling the heat lick his face, feeling it slither down his back in the first rolling drops of sweat. The low electric buzz of insects fills the room, rolling in with the waves of muggy, summer heat that even the night refuses to dissipate. The rain from before has made everything stickier, muggier. From here, Niou can hear the barest sounds of other people, too, including-he thinks-the distinct sound of girlish giggles and high-pitched squeals.
"Fuck you," Niou whispers under his breath. He digs his fingernails into the window sill, but he can't dig deep enough. He grinds his teeth and seethes, wishing he could rip the ledge off and smash it through the window towards the girls' room.
He grabs the window sill hard, until his body shakes and he lets go with a hissing growl. Niou stomps away from the window, back turned to the light, and he grabs his tennisbag. There's got to be a place somewhere to slam balls against a wall and take out his anger, put it into something that almost matters.
Niou grabs the door and starts to open it when the door catches, pushes back and opens for him.
It's like a mirror stands there. A doppelganger. His other self, staring at him with glasses flashing bright, like an LCD screen, and lips pursed together.
Yagyuu blinks. His glasses glimmer as he steps inside, around Niou. He doesn't ask where Niou is going, although he moves his head, taking in Niou's tennisbag and bristled expression.
In a cold, hard voice, Yagyuu says, "Lock the door."
The trees rustle outside. Niou can almost smell their resin and the wet damp of leaves. His body stiffens with the memory of that dream, where he was on his knees, hand around his dick, hard and shaking as Yagyuu told him to jerk himself off. His eyes are wide now, his hair standing on end. Niou is trapped between Yagyuu and the wall and the doorway. His heart slams into his chest, squeezing his ribs to the breaking point.
He can't breathe.
Niou darts left. He runs past Yagyuu, but Yagyuu pivots on his heel, blocking the doorway. His eyes are hidden in the gleam of his lenses, reflecting the light streaming in from the window.
Niou can see himself in the reflection. His eyes are round. His hair sticks up. His face is white and his chest panting as he struggles to get around Yagyuu.
The first touch of Yagyuu's hand to his arm is electric. Niou hisses. He jerks back, cradling his arm to his chest. Yagyuu's palm burns, even as a memory.
"So which one did you kiss?" Niou snaps. He tries to duck under Yagyuu's arm. Yagyuu grabs him. The tennisbag crashes to the floor. Niou struggles, twisting and turning and baring his teeth. Yagyuu's hand is so tight around Niou's wrist that his hand explodes with pain. Niou shouts. Yagyuu shoves him into the wall, banging Niou's head back. Stunned, his head reels for a moment, enough time for Yagyuu to take control. He pushes. Niou creeps back onto his toes.
The hand around Niou's trembles.
Yagyuu's chin shakes. His throat bobs. His glasses slip down his face. His breath is hot and salty, whistling between his lips.
"You know I didn't kiss any of them," he says.
Niou turns away. He stares at the window with glassy vision. Fingers pry his chin away, turning it back to face Yagyuu.
"Don't be that way," Yagyuu says. "Niou-kun," he adds, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers slacken on Niou's chin. Instead of digging into the soft parts under his jaw, Yagyuu trails his fingertips over Niou's chin, caressing and smoothing his mole, over and over until Niou's eyelashes flutter and he sucks in a shuddered breath.
"Don't," Niou says.
"They're only girls," Yagyuu says. He nudges a thigh between Niou's and Niou can feel a hard bulge. He closes his eyes all the way, but his heart flutters. His pulse screams doki doki and rabu rabu that infects his brain and makes him melt with the heat.
"Tennis partner," Yagyuu whispers. His glasses frames bump Niou's nose and Niou is sliding into Yagyuu, forgiving him, allowing him, letting Yagyuu touch his hip and tease the hem of his t-shirt.
"Bastard…" Niou moans. He throws his head back against the wall. A hanging scroll shakes along with his breathing. Hot fingers stroke his belly and then Yagyuu's head is there, his mouth is burning and wet, his tongue on fire in Niou's belly button. Niou gasps. His legs are jelly, trembling and sinking if it weren't for Yagyuu holding him up.
The zipper of Niou's shorts hums like the insects in the porch lights. The room is darkening as an outside light directly across from the window shuts off. Niou can't see Yagyuu's expression. He reaches down. "No…" His voice is a sob, grating in Niou's ears as his face smoulders with shame. He digs his hands into Yagyuu's hair as Yagyuu digs thumbs into Niou's hips.
Yagyuu pushes Niou's underpants down.
The tension is palpable in the moment as Niou chokes on a moan. He yanks Yagyuu's hair, messing it up with fisting hands as he struggles to hold onto something physical as his body melts away, leaden and feathery and washing over with flames of arousal. Yagyuu's nose is in his pubes. Yagyuu's fingers are moving down, but Niou is nailed to the wall, his dick throbbing, harder and deeper the further Yagyuu ventures.
There's something wet, something unbearably hot and sliding over the head of his dick. Niou sucks his stomach in, pulls back and snaps his eyes open. He starts to moan, "No-" but his words are cut off by a drawn out groan as he thrusts, unable, unwilling to hold back from the assault on his senses.
Everything rushes to his balls and the electricity in Yagyuu's fingers, caressing them, rubbing them, cupping them and rolling the skin. Everything rushes to his dick as Niou chokes, eyes stung with tears as his body shakes and Yagyuu sucks, harder, tighter, sliding up, then down, testing and teasing how far Niou will go. How far Yagyuu can take him.
Which isn't very far. Niou grunts. His balls constrict. His dick is so tight, the feeling sprung up, wound tighter and tighter until something snaps. His belly explodes and he's bucking into Yagyuu, pushing as deep as he can go and Yagyuu is gagging, making funny noises and pushing back on Niou as Niou mewls and comes and sobs his orgasm into the arm thrown over his mouth.
He slides to the floor, mourning the loss of Yagyuu's hot mouth. It was there for a moment or two, but now, gasping for air as the saliva cools on his skin and Yagyuu wipes his face with a handkerchief, the memory is fresh and alive, his body humming with feeling. Niou is desperate for more, for Yagyuu, pressed to him, naked skin to naked skin.
It isn't a long wait. His underpants, bunched around his thighs with his shorts, are uncomfortable, constricting. Niou pushes them off. He pulls his t-shirt off and chucks it across the room, somewhere into the indeterminate darkness of their bags. The only light is from a charging cellphone, buzzing a soft, electric blue on the lacquer table. Niou can make out the faint shapes of Yagyuu's shadow moving across the wall. Clothing rustles. Yagyuu clicks his tongue. A zipper rips-Yagyuu's this time-followed by a plastic crinkle and more clothes. Yagyuu hisses, bumping into the side of something with a dull thud. His glasses made a soft clink when he sets them down.
Yagyuu holds a breath, hesitating. Niou knows that Yagyuu is waiting for a tease, that he's blind and can't see and then Niou should snicker. Instead, Niou says nothing. The quiet darkness makes him feel heavy, and a little sad, too, and he doesn't know why. Maybe it's Marui's message, maybe it's the residual bitterness towards those stupid girls, maybe it's the fact they're leaving tomorrow morning.
Maybe it's the fact everything is different.
But then again, Niou likes change. He likes and prizes his adaptability-on the courts, in school, wherever. He refuses to break the moment with a guilty comment, as much as it might be entirely in his character to do it, so much that Yagyuu expects it.
So, all Niou says is Yagyuu's name, barely a whisper on his lips. He touches Yagyuu's shoulder, warm and solid in the darkness. He rests his chin down, leaning up just enough to turn his face to Yagyuu's ear. Yagyuu's fingers curl around Niou's, twining together as Niou murmurs the two words he'd never, ever say during tennis.
There is a sharp intake of breath. "You want it?" Yagyuu asks, a bit too fast, a bit too surprised. His heart pounds through the back of his ribs, and his spine shivers against Niou's belly.
Niou hums. He won't say it again.
"Can we turn on the lights?" Yagyuu asks.
Niou swallows. His throat is thick, raw with the moans from before. He chews on his lip, tasting salt, blood, sweat. "Okay," he says.
I can't see well enough is what Yagyuu doesn’t need to say. His fumbling, his rustling is tell-tale enough. The light comes on, a flood of harsh, yellow brightness that cuts through the darkest shadows. Yagyuu pulls the cord again, then a second time, until nothing but the weak, central coil glows, dim and buzzing with insects.
He turns on the A/C too, then he sinks to his knees on one of the futons, rolling a condom onto his dick. Niou's heart skips a beat. Seeing it this close makes it seem that much more real, that much more finite.
Being on his hands and knees makes Niou cringe. He hangs his head and he can see his dick, straining between his legs, hard with anticipation of the cool, slimy fingers sliding down the cleft of his ass. Niou gasps. Yagyuu moans. He kisses Niou's shoulder, the side of his neck. Niou turns his face in toward a sloppy half-kiss as Yagyuu pushes a finger inside. Niou squeezes his eyes shut, breathing out through his nose as the second finger wedges inside. It really does feel weird, uncomfortably tight and awkward.
But the moans Yagyuu makes are delicious. The groans and grunts, breathy little sighs as Yagyuu pulls his fingers out, replacing them with a thicker, hotter, blunter cock. He's getting better, lasting longer, thrusting deeper, moving with Niou as they buck and slap, motions back and forth like a rally, pushing and straining towards the match point. A hand around his dick makes Niou's elbows give out. He slumps forward, squeezing his ass tight as the shuddering ripples rise in his belly, hotter and hotter, number and number, moving towards that peak and then Yagyuu stiffens, gasping and twisting his face up and pushing up, driving himself inside and Niou shouts something that means nothing and everything because Yagyuu hits something that sends Niou over the edge, rising rising rising and then crashing down in a leaden mess of liquid bones and shaking sobs.
In the soft, wafting air conditioning, Yagyuu's body is a welcome warmth. Niou grabs an arm and pulls it tight to his chest, sucking the tips of Yagyuu's fingers, which taste salty and a bit funky, but it’s his left hand, safe and musky. Yagyuu mutters, "The light…" His voice trails off. He stumbles when he stands. Niou doesn't let go when Yagyuu tugs. Yagyuu stretches, barely reaching the cord, but he manages. The cord swings in the comfortable black, hitting the sides of the cooling bulb with little raps.
The cellphone charging by the tv glows blue; it's the only light, save for the faintest cracks coming in through the screen as the room slowly lightens to a penetrable grey.
Faggot. Marui's voice is in his head, laughing and pointing and waggling his puffy fingers.
Niou cringes.
He squeezes his hold around Yagyuu's arm. He bites the skin of Yagyuu's thumb. Yagyuu makes a noise in the back of his throat.
"The fatty knows," Niou says.
"About what?"
Anger flares inside, stretching Niou's lungs to his ribs, grating the inside of his twisting stomach. "About…" He forces himself to sigh. "About this."
"Us?" Uncertainty lengthens Yagyuu's words. "Hn, are you sure, Masaharu?"
Niou shivers. His name sinks into his ears, silken and smooth on Yagyuu's tongue. Yagyuu licks Niou's jaw. He sucks on Niou's earlobe in a slimy way that still makes Niou twitch and curl his toes.
"Yes!" he says. "He sent a message calling us…me…"
Niou lets his words hang. If he says it out loud, it's real. If he says it out loud, it's pathetic and creepy. He's already clinging to Yagyuu's arm, letting Yagyuu's long fingers draw out patterns and characters on his chest and collar. Yagyuu's fingers brush over Niou's nipples, making them stiffen and twist. Niou hisses.
"Since when did you care what Marui-kun thought?" Yagyuu asks. "You're so sure that he's not your friend."
"He isn't!" Niou insists. "Yagyuu!"
Yagyuu hums, so sure of himself as he kisses Niou's neck, like it's nothing. Niou lets go of Yagyuu's arm, peeling his sticky fingers off Yagyuu's skin. He sniffs. Yagyuu holds him tight, with the arm across Niou's chest, refusing to leave.
Niou sniffs again.
"His Genius is a bit dense," Yagyuu says. "You and I are going to play doubles. We'll win the Nationals."
Niou frowns. "Stop changing the subject, blind man."
Yagyuu stops sucking on Niou's earlobe. He traces his tongue through the dips and swirls of Niou's ear. He rolls a leg over Niou's, rubbing his dick on Niou's hip, half-hard and wanting more. Niou's own dick is so sensitive, throbbing on the futon cover, aching for rest and to be touched again, all at the same time. Yagyuu whispers something, the one thing that might change the subject completely.
There is something wet in his eyes that Niou can't stop. Yagyuu kisses it away, pressing his hands to the sides of Niou's face, pressing fluttering lips to Niou's cheeks.
"Me too…" Niou murmurs. He digs his hands into Yagyuu's biceps and he can't let go.
***
He's a trickster.
A master of illusion.
A flawless impersonator.
And yet, Niou can't impersonate his normal self. There are muscles in his body he didn't know existed and they are on fire from last night. He creaks in the shower. He winces when he dresses. He ruffles wax through his hair, checking himself out in the mirror, and nothing can hide the marks on his necks or the flush on his face.
The illusion of normalcy is impossible to mimic.
Yet again, Yagyuu is a useless lump under his futon cover. Even though it was his cellphone alarm that went off at seven.
There aren't any toes for Niou to tickle this morning. Yagyuu has tucked in every possible limb, every possible corner of the futon. He is utterly still, even when Niou accidentally knocks the bottle of lube off the table and it lands on top of the lump that is Yagyuu.
Niou waits. Yagyuu doesn't move. The sounds of his deep breathing are muffled. Niou puts his wristweights on, then undoing the Velcro with the loud, ripping sound as he adjusts the fit.
No movement.
Niou sniffs.
The screen walls have been pushed open. Warm sunlight melds with the cool air conditioning. Faintly, Niou can make out the low buzz of cicadas outside. It's probably hot and sticky, given the early droop of the plants already. He tiptoes around Yagyuu and, cringing and careful, he lowers himself to straddle the middle part of Yagyuu's lump. Dull pain throbs in the backs of his thighs and the insides, too. Niou rocks down, up, rubbing himself a bit, enjoying the sensation of Yagyuu's slow wiggles and confused groans.
Niou peels back the top of the futon. Yagyuu's hair clings like spider webs to the white sheet, falling back across his fuzzy eyes and open mouth. "Ngh," he says.
"Morning," Niou says.
"Nghgh," Yagyuu says. He squeezes his eyes and tries to bury himself in the approximate direction of his armpit.
Niou leans over, hissing at the flare of a cramp in his thighs. He grabs Yagyuu's glasses and starts to poke Yagyuu's ears with the frames. Yagyuu wriggles his nose. He scrunches his face up. He lets out a long, low growl before he mumbles, "Stop that!" and flails his hand into Niou's side.
"Good morning, sleepy," Niou says, sing-song and smiling.
Yagyuu glowers. He glares as he stumbles into the toilet room, naked except for his glasses. He glares as he shuffles into the shower room. Niou sits around, doing nothing, touching all of Yagyuu's things. He grabs Yagyuu's cellphone and clicks for the messages. A dozen unread messages, half from Yukimura or Sanada. The most recent, from Marui.
Bitterness floods his mouth, tasting suspiciously like bile and the growling discomfort gnawing on his guts. Niou clicks, unable to stop himself. He sucks in a breath and stiffens his back as his eyes take in the message.
hey wut time r u 2 cuming 2nite??? were gonna be at the harbour park by the scultur of the train cars by the toilets at 7. akayas sister is coming hot stuff!! ^^
It takes a long minute for Niou to pick his jaw up off the floor.
And then, he rolls over, laughing with sheer and utter relief.
***
The distinctive slick, slapping sounds and the moans filtering out under the shower room door along with tendrils of moist steam drag Niou out of his cackling. His body is unbearably light, aching from sex and laughter and so thankful Marui is too stupid after all that he's practically floating to the doorway as he listens to Yagyuu.
Listens to Yagyuu masturbate, that is.
If it wasn't for the smoky haze of the shower spray, Niou might be able to see more of Yagyuu's form-his hand curled around his pulsing, flushed cock, his head thrown back with a moan, his feet planted shoulder-width apart as his knees shake. As it is, listening to the rhythmic slapping and pants, the grunts and groans makes Niou squirm. He cups his own balls, his own dick through his shorts, rubbing them through the fabric, rough on his sensitized, aching skin.
Yagyuu makes the loveliest noises when he comes. The shower magnifies every sound, every gasp and whimper. Niou shivers. He swallows a thick lump and listens to the water shut off. He moves from the door, but Yagyuu swings the door wide open. He blinks. His glasses are beaded with water. His hair is wet, dripping over his face. The hair on his legs and arms is smoothed into patterns, all parallel and perfect.
Yagyuu doesn't even bother with a towel.
Yagyuu doesn't even bother with polite formalities.
He walks across the room the same as he walks across the tennis court, chin up high, back straight and centre, his gait easy and confident, like he owns the room.
Like he owns Niou.
Yagyuu's body is wet, pressed to Niou, but his lips are faint, vague, barely brushing kisses over Niou's mouth. Niou opens up to him. He touches the back of Yagyuu's neck, kneading the soft skin at the base of his hairline, and the downy, damp hair. I'm yours, he says, with his tongue, eager as he traces Yagyuu's lips.
But Yagyuu isn't in a hurry. He makes slow, lethargic kisses over Niou's lips, mole, chin. They are almost lazy, in the way that Yagyuu goes over the same spot, again and again, as if he can't be bothered to move. Niou moans. Come on, he thinks. He pushes himself against Yagyuu's chest. He licks Yagyuu's chin, tasting soap and sweat and intrinsic woodsyness that cloys to Yagyuu's wet skin. Come on, let's go.
The hand, flat to Niou's chest, says otherwise. Yagyuu kisses him, one last, long, searing kiss that sucks Niou's tongue from his mouth into Yagyuu's. Yagyuu lets him run his tongue over sharp teeth, over his own smooth, velvety tongue before he pulls back, saliva trailing, unwilling to fully separate them.
At breakfast, Niou is bold.
"So," he says, "the fatty doesn't know after all. He's too fucking stupid." Niou slouches back in his chair, snorting under his breath.
Yagyuu raises his eyebrows. Above the rim of his rice bowl, Niou is certain he catches a flash of Yagyuu smirking before he says, point-blank, "Told you so."