New fic!
NEW SLAM DUNK fanfiction!!!!!
Ruhana/Hanaru fic for Hana's and my birthday, especially dedicated to Sturlo:)
I know its late, but I was inspired. As the saying goes better late than never.
Not beta-d, all mistakes are mine and I'm not a native speaker so there will be plenty,lol
Rating: NC-17(I didn't mean it, but the boys got out of hand-not too surprisingly-lol)
He was lying on our bed, the white sheets surrounding his body tightly. I kept thinking how *good* looked the contrast with his slightly darker skin. He slept peacefully unaware of my eyes on him. I was unable to look anywhere else if we were in the same room, making anything else meaningless. It was an old habit from the time we met. A habit, that was so frustrating in those days, when I still hadn't grasped its meaning.
His pulse was steady and firm, his body finally at ease. The long and harsh practice just a distant memory. The massage I gave him took him completely out. We were getting older and it was getting more and more difficult to keep in shape. The body was getting considerably worn out, the skin slightly rugged around the ages, but still smooth to the touch. My fingers were quite sore from the deep and continuous massage I gave him, but I was getting used to them. It was becoming almost a daily routine, wanting to sooth his aches, to take away the almost constant pain that accompanied him.
Old scars, old injuries.
My fingers were caressing the tendrils of his muscles, his skin still warm and soft after the almost brutally warm bath and massage. His scent was mixed with sandalwood, it was the only other scent that I allowed on him. I remember when we got our first paycheck as professionals, he went out for hours only to return wearing an expensive cologne. He confidently inched his body closer to mine, making me take his scent in, only resulting in a sneeze. The scent too strong, completely covering his own.
I instantly *hated* it.
I strapped his clothes forcibly from him than and pushed him in the shower, taking the scent away.
Marking him with my own.
Our scents mingled, making a special, unique brand of *our* own. Now, I could always breath in his scent mingled with mine, liking that with the time passing you could no longer tell them apart.
Forever together.
Inseparable.
Like us.
He never wore a cologne again.
My fingers reached his tight buttocks, I couldn't help but squeeze them. The feel of them familiar and to this day still making my cock twitch. I'm too aware of his exhaustion, but sometimes we couldn't help, but touch each other, the passion, lust, love taking over our minds.
Sometimes the old anger still resurfaces.
But It's almost like an old distant memory we were fond of. Those times our passion is brutal and fierce, and I almost feel fifteen again.
It feels like our first time.
Fast, hard, on the wall of our old school gymnasium, oh how unexperienced, but so damn good it felt.
If I close my eyes I could almost *feel* our bodies close, the scratches, the fight, the struggle; the searing kiss that left me with bloody and bruised lips a long time after.
A reminder.
The markings we wore for all to see, all of them thought that we got in another fight, because we always had the same scars, the same bruises at the same time.
Never did they know *how* we got them.
Some scars still remained after all this time.
His markings on me, *mine* on him.
Every mark telling its own story. I could still tell, which ones were from fights, which from passion and there were also those *special ones* that were from both. Those I kept tracing along his skin, never to stop touching and kissing them every time, *reliving* the memory.
As he does.
Over and over again.
The memory was making my cock and heart ache for him, I traced the saltiness from his lower back, licking it gently from his skin, even if gentle was so far from the mood I was in.
I wanted him.
The contact; skin to skin, feeling his muscles tightening at my touch, I was waking him, but I couldn't help myself. I felt like a teenager again, when we had to do it several times a day or we would have gone crazy with lust. When we couldn't touch we fought. Some of the harshest fights we got into, were ironically at the time when we were together. Most of the scars I have are form those times, when unanswered lust, want and adrenalin were mixed together.
Being so close, but unable to touch. I still feel elated that *now* I could touch how much I wanted. I never quite managed to forget the times I couldn't. Than, I have scars reminding me, oh so painfully.
He groaned, trying to push me away, yet I bite his sensitive neck just below his knot, where he was most sensitive. He gasped and in a swift move, he pushed me on my back, his irises dilated.
"Kitsune" he growled kissing me, bruising me, making my body remember those times that feel so long ago, but weren't. I grabbed his hair savagely pushing him onto me, kissing that fat lower lip, biting it viciously making him remember, *knowing* he does. His erection was pushing hard on mine, never was I so glad of our close hight. With the other hand I grabbed hard on his ass. His left hand was holding me down while the other was taking both our cocks in hand, fanatically pulling, hard. I couldn't help myself, but I moaned aloud into his mouth, panting.
Feeling the climax approaching, but not there yet. So close I could feel it just a little bit *more* and I'd be *there*.
"Hana more!"
I managed to gasp, before the orgasm took me to our special place, where only the two of us remained. He kept stroking me and I heard him calling my name as he reached his peak. He laid partially on me, while we slowly tried to recover our breaths. The scent of sandalwood was almost entirely gone.
Only our bland remained and I couldn't help but *smile*.
x-posted to various lj
Ruhana/Hanaru fic for Hana's and my birthday, especially dedicated to Sturlo:)
I know its late, but I was inspired. As the saying goes better late than never.
Not beta-d, all mistakes are mine and I'm not a native speaker so there will be plenty,lol
Rating: NC-17(I didn't mean it, but the boys got out of hand-not too surprisingly-lol)
He was lying on our bed, the white sheets surrounding his body tightly. I kept thinking how *good* looked the contrast with his slightly darker skin. He slept peacefully unaware of my eyes on him. I was unable to look anywhere else if we were in the same room, making anything else meaningless. It was an old habit from the time we met. A habit, that was so frustrating in those days, when I still hadn't grasped its meaning.
His pulse was steady and firm, his body finally at ease. The long and harsh practice just a distant memory. The massage I gave him took him completely out. We were getting older and it was getting more and more difficult to keep in shape. The body was getting considerably worn out, the skin slightly rugged around the ages, but still smooth to the touch. My fingers were quite sore from the deep and continuous massage I gave him, but I was getting used to them. It was becoming almost a daily routine, wanting to sooth his aches, to take away the almost constant pain that accompanied him.
Old scars, old injuries.
My fingers were caressing the tendrils of his muscles, his skin still warm and soft after the almost brutally warm bath and massage. His scent was mixed with sandalwood, it was the only other scent that I allowed on him. I remember when we got our first paycheck as professionals, he went out for hours only to return wearing an expensive cologne. He confidently inched his body closer to mine, making me take his scent in, only resulting in a sneeze. The scent too strong, completely covering his own.
I instantly *hated* it.
I strapped his clothes forcibly from him than and pushed him in the shower, taking the scent away.
Marking him with my own.
Our scents mingled, making a special, unique brand of *our* own. Now, I could always breath in his scent mingled with mine, liking that with the time passing you could no longer tell them apart.
Forever together.
Inseparable.
Like us.
He never wore a cologne again.
My fingers reached his tight buttocks, I couldn't help but squeeze them. The feel of them familiar and to this day still making my cock twitch. I'm too aware of his exhaustion, but sometimes we couldn't help, but touch each other, the passion, lust, love taking over our minds.
Sometimes the old anger still resurfaces.
But It's almost like an old distant memory we were fond of. Those times our passion is brutal and fierce, and I almost feel fifteen again.
It feels like our first time.
Fast, hard, on the wall of our old school gymnasium, oh how unexperienced, but so damn good it felt.
If I close my eyes I could almost *feel* our bodies close, the scratches, the fight, the struggle; the searing kiss that left me with bloody and bruised lips a long time after.
A reminder.
The markings we wore for all to see, all of them thought that we got in another fight, because we always had the same scars, the same bruises at the same time.
Never did they know *how* we got them.
Some scars still remained after all this time.
His markings on me, *mine* on him.
Every mark telling its own story. I could still tell, which ones were from fights, which from passion and there were also those *special ones* that were from both. Those I kept tracing along his skin, never to stop touching and kissing them every time, *reliving* the memory.
As he does.
Over and over again.
The memory was making my cock and heart ache for him, I traced the saltiness from his lower back, licking it gently from his skin, even if gentle was so far from the mood I was in.
I wanted him.
The contact; skin to skin, feeling his muscles tightening at my touch, I was waking him, but I couldn't help myself. I felt like a teenager again, when we had to do it several times a day or we would have gone crazy with lust. When we couldn't touch we fought. Some of the harshest fights we got into, were ironically at the time when we were together. Most of the scars I have are form those times, when unanswered lust, want and adrenalin were mixed together.
Being so close, but unable to touch. I still feel elated that *now* I could touch how much I wanted. I never quite managed to forget the times I couldn't. Than, I have scars reminding me, oh so painfully.
He groaned, trying to push me away, yet I bite his sensitive neck just below his knot, where he was most sensitive. He gasped and in a swift move, he pushed me on my back, his irises dilated.
"Kitsune" he growled kissing me, bruising me, making my body remember those times that feel so long ago, but weren't. I grabbed his hair savagely pushing him onto me, kissing that fat lower lip, biting it viciously making him remember, *knowing* he does. His erection was pushing hard on mine, never was I so glad of our close hight. With the other hand I grabbed hard on his ass. His left hand was holding me down while the other was taking both our cocks in hand, fanatically pulling, hard. I couldn't help myself, but I moaned aloud into his mouth, panting.
Feeling the climax approaching, but not there yet. So close I could feel it just a little bit *more* and I'd be *there*.
"Hana more!"
I managed to gasp, before the orgasm took me to our special place, where only the two of us remained. He kept stroking me and I heard him calling my name as he reached his peak. He laid partially on me, while we slowly tried to recover our breaths. The scent of sandalwood was almost entirely gone.
Only our bland remained and I couldn't help but *smile*.
x-posted to various lj