PoT Fic: Love (of a sort) [Inui/Fuji, R]
Love (of a sort)
Inui/Fuji, R
Konomi owns all
a/n: I wrote this for goldie to cheer her up, and for myself to prove that I could even whilst swamped with coursework. Short 'n' smutty.
There was a time and a place for everything. Soul-searching by its very nature was reserved for moments of quiet reflection, preferably in a temple or on a snow-capped mountain.
Not -- and Inui was clear on this -- when someone else's hand was down your pants, treating you to an absolutely fantastic handjob.
Inui's bedroom was as far from temples and mountains as it was possible to be, and in fact smelled rather ripely of his unwashed laundry. Still, he couldn't help himself. He looked down at the shiny head leaning against his shoulder and contemplated stroking it. The probability of a rebuff was very high and proceedings were at a critical stage, so Inui didn't risk it.
All the same, he felt a vague sense of disappointment in himself afterwards. The etiquette of these situations entirely escaped him, but surely a few words of affection or a signal of gratitude were not out of the question. And yet, Inui clenched his hands on the bedspread behind him and held his breath until it was impossible for him to continue doing so and still inspire sufficient oxygen. Just like every other time.
Inui was a fan of routine, but this was taking things a bit too far. They hadn't even said anything, and it had been going on for six months now. Inui knew of marriages that hadn't lasted as long.
And the situation was as much his fault as Fuji's -- at least after the first time. That had definitely been all Fuji.
Inui had been aware that Fuji was courting his attention more than usual; their match dissections were fast becoming a habit rather than an anomaly. Inui couldn't help but be pleased by this. Fuji was Seigaku's tensai, after all, and an excellent student besides. There were two clear advantages to his friendship right there, without even counting Fuji's rapier wit or the sadistic streak they had in common.
At the same time he'd been surprised when Fuji invited himself over to Inui's house. Not many people were brave enough to cross his threshold. He'd heard most were afraid they'd be roped in for some semi-consensual juice experiment -- which wasn't all that far from the truth.
Sitting on his bed sharing English vocabulary questions with Fuji was as close to normality as Inui had ever come. Had his mother happened to chance upon them, she'd have undoubtedly insisted on yanking out her digital camera to record the moment for posterity. She worried about his lack of social skills and close friends in the same way Inui worried about his lack of willing test subjects.
Fuji moved quickly, Inui had to give him that. One minute Fuji was leaning across to point out an incorrect verb on Inui's worksheet, and the next Inui had a lapful of warm, wriggling tensai. Inui got a brief glimpse of sparkling blue eyes before Fuji plucked off his glasses and smothered his face with kisses. One by his eyebrow, one on his cheekbone, one under his ear that made him shiver and sigh, one on his chin, one on his closed eyelid and, finally, one on his mouth. That one lasted quite a while.
Just when Inui thought his day couldn't get any better or his cock any harder, Fuji edged back a bit and slipped a hand under Inui's waistband. He leaned his forehead against Inui's flushed neck as he methodically brought him off. Inui had no idea what Fuji's face looked like when he did it, because he always hid it. Inui presumed it wore an expression of mild disgust, because when Fuji was done he always wiped the spunk off on Inui's shirt or bedspread or pillow. As if he wanted to make sure Inui knew what he'd done -- not that there could be any doubt.
Inui had been too shocked to reciprocate for a while, and when the thought finally occurred to him it was Fuji himself who put him off. Inui had never been able to get proper data on Fuji, and this was no exception. He had the strongest feeling that Fuji didn't want to be touched. Maybe there was just a need in Fuji to spend Wednesday afternoons in Inui's bedroom -- working on homework, kissing him dizzy for an hour and stroking his cock for the pathetically short time it took to make him come.
There was a need in Inui too. He wanted to destroy Fuji the way Fuji had done him, and build him up again gasp by gasp. Inui was generally reserved even when he was alone, so he didn't go totally wild at the squeeze of Fuji's small fingers. But Inui had been privileged to see Fuji truly enraged once or twice, and thought that when he came, he wouldn't just moan or even scream -- he'd wail.
And Inui wanted to make him wail.
__
A rosy sunset limned the stalks of grass as Inui bent over to inspect them. There weren't that many green areas in Tokyo, so Inui relied heavily on this meadow for his raw ingredients. It was a patch of coarse scrubland that was usually deserted before dark, unattractive to even the most desperate of dog-walkers. Once night fell it was a different story -- and a crack-dealer's paradise. Inui still had a few minutes' grace, though.
A patch of white caught his eye and he straightened up. He approached with caution. It wouldn't be the first time a dead body had been found on this plot, or worse. His heart caught in his throat when he saw what -- or, rather, who -- it was.
"Fuji?" He kept his voice neutral, with an inquisitive lift.
Fuji was lying spread-eagled on the ground, for all the world as if he'd just overdosed. However, besides his closed eyes, there were no other signs of recent drug consumption. Indeed, at Inui's voice Fuji cracked open one eye and smiled.
"Inui," he replied. "There you are."
Inui carefully set his jars and Perspex boxes on the ground and sat down beside Fuji. "What are you doing?"
"Someone told me once," said Fuji, "that if you lie on your back, like this, and look up at the sky, it feels like you're moving the clouds."
"Oh?" Inui adjusted his glasses, not quite sure he saw what he thought he was seeing. It was true that Fuji was aroused by the oddest things, but ... getting an erection from looking at cumulous?
That had to be unusual, even for him.
"I tried for a while," continued Fuji dreamily, "and I'm pretty sure I made a cloud into a sort of tennis racquet shape."
"It looks more like a cactus to me," said Inui, after sparing a brief glance upwards. He was far more interested in the shape in Fuji's pristine white shorts.
Fuji chuckled, managing to imply that he knew exactly what Inui was thinking. Except that Inui wasn't thinking, not really; just making the barest of neural connections required to hook his fingers under Fuji's shorts and pull them down a little way. Inui's fingers tangled in the sparse, springy hair and he thought he'd die just from the heat flooding his face.
"Aa," was all Fuji said.
There was a time and a place for everything. If Inui could have chosen one for his first blowjob, it wouldn't have been in a raw and deserted plot as the sun was going down. At the very least, it would have been somewhere he could prepare a glass to spit into when at last Fuji came. He ended up having to hack into the grass beside him, which was neither dignified nor sexy.
And Fuji hadn't made a sound, unless you counted a soft sigh as Inui slid his lips down as far as he could go. He hadn't moved either -- not even to buck his hips up or run his hands through Inui's hair. Inui had to tuck his shorts back up for him when he made no move to do so himself.
"Well?" demanded Inui, and immediately regretted it -- and that was before Fuji spoke.
"Next time, less teeth."
end
+++
PS I still have no idea who'd be seme.
Inui/Fuji, R
Konomi owns all
a/n: I wrote this for goldie to cheer her up, and for myself to prove that I could even whilst swamped with coursework. Short 'n' smutty.
There was a time and a place for everything. Soul-searching by its very nature was reserved for moments of quiet reflection, preferably in a temple or on a snow-capped mountain.
Not -- and Inui was clear on this -- when someone else's hand was down your pants, treating you to an absolutely fantastic handjob.
Inui's bedroom was as far from temples and mountains as it was possible to be, and in fact smelled rather ripely of his unwashed laundry. Still, he couldn't help himself. He looked down at the shiny head leaning against his shoulder and contemplated stroking it. The probability of a rebuff was very high and proceedings were at a critical stage, so Inui didn't risk it.
All the same, he felt a vague sense of disappointment in himself afterwards. The etiquette of these situations entirely escaped him, but surely a few words of affection or a signal of gratitude were not out of the question. And yet, Inui clenched his hands on the bedspread behind him and held his breath until it was impossible for him to continue doing so and still inspire sufficient oxygen. Just like every other time.
Inui was a fan of routine, but this was taking things a bit too far. They hadn't even said anything, and it had been going on for six months now. Inui knew of marriages that hadn't lasted as long.
And the situation was as much his fault as Fuji's -- at least after the first time. That had definitely been all Fuji.
Inui had been aware that Fuji was courting his attention more than usual; their match dissections were fast becoming a habit rather than an anomaly. Inui couldn't help but be pleased by this. Fuji was Seigaku's tensai, after all, and an excellent student besides. There were two clear advantages to his friendship right there, without even counting Fuji's rapier wit or the sadistic streak they had in common.
At the same time he'd been surprised when Fuji invited himself over to Inui's house. Not many people were brave enough to cross his threshold. He'd heard most were afraid they'd be roped in for some semi-consensual juice experiment -- which wasn't all that far from the truth.
Sitting on his bed sharing English vocabulary questions with Fuji was as close to normality as Inui had ever come. Had his mother happened to chance upon them, she'd have undoubtedly insisted on yanking out her digital camera to record the moment for posterity. She worried about his lack of social skills and close friends in the same way Inui worried about his lack of willing test subjects.
Fuji moved quickly, Inui had to give him that. One minute Fuji was leaning across to point out an incorrect verb on Inui's worksheet, and the next Inui had a lapful of warm, wriggling tensai. Inui got a brief glimpse of sparkling blue eyes before Fuji plucked off his glasses and smothered his face with kisses. One by his eyebrow, one on his cheekbone, one under his ear that made him shiver and sigh, one on his chin, one on his closed eyelid and, finally, one on his mouth. That one lasted quite a while.
Just when Inui thought his day couldn't get any better or his cock any harder, Fuji edged back a bit and slipped a hand under Inui's waistband. He leaned his forehead against Inui's flushed neck as he methodically brought him off. Inui had no idea what Fuji's face looked like when he did it, because he always hid it. Inui presumed it wore an expression of mild disgust, because when Fuji was done he always wiped the spunk off on Inui's shirt or bedspread or pillow. As if he wanted to make sure Inui knew what he'd done -- not that there could be any doubt.
Inui had been too shocked to reciprocate for a while, and when the thought finally occurred to him it was Fuji himself who put him off. Inui had never been able to get proper data on Fuji, and this was no exception. He had the strongest feeling that Fuji didn't want to be touched. Maybe there was just a need in Fuji to spend Wednesday afternoons in Inui's bedroom -- working on homework, kissing him dizzy for an hour and stroking his cock for the pathetically short time it took to make him come.
There was a need in Inui too. He wanted to destroy Fuji the way Fuji had done him, and build him up again gasp by gasp. Inui was generally reserved even when he was alone, so he didn't go totally wild at the squeeze of Fuji's small fingers. But Inui had been privileged to see Fuji truly enraged once or twice, and thought that when he came, he wouldn't just moan or even scream -- he'd wail.
And Inui wanted to make him wail.
__
A rosy sunset limned the stalks of grass as Inui bent over to inspect them. There weren't that many green areas in Tokyo, so Inui relied heavily on this meadow for his raw ingredients. It was a patch of coarse scrubland that was usually deserted before dark, unattractive to even the most desperate of dog-walkers. Once night fell it was a different story -- and a crack-dealer's paradise. Inui still had a few minutes' grace, though.
A patch of white caught his eye and he straightened up. He approached with caution. It wouldn't be the first time a dead body had been found on this plot, or worse. His heart caught in his throat when he saw what -- or, rather, who -- it was.
"Fuji?" He kept his voice neutral, with an inquisitive lift.
Fuji was lying spread-eagled on the ground, for all the world as if he'd just overdosed. However, besides his closed eyes, there were no other signs of recent drug consumption. Indeed, at Inui's voice Fuji cracked open one eye and smiled.
"Inui," he replied. "There you are."
Inui carefully set his jars and Perspex boxes on the ground and sat down beside Fuji. "What are you doing?"
"Someone told me once," said Fuji, "that if you lie on your back, like this, and look up at the sky, it feels like you're moving the clouds."
"Oh?" Inui adjusted his glasses, not quite sure he saw what he thought he was seeing. It was true that Fuji was aroused by the oddest things, but ... getting an erection from looking at cumulous?
That had to be unusual, even for him.
"I tried for a while," continued Fuji dreamily, "and I'm pretty sure I made a cloud into a sort of tennis racquet shape."
"It looks more like a cactus to me," said Inui, after sparing a brief glance upwards. He was far more interested in the shape in Fuji's pristine white shorts.
Fuji chuckled, managing to imply that he knew exactly what Inui was thinking. Except that Inui wasn't thinking, not really; just making the barest of neural connections required to hook his fingers under Fuji's shorts and pull them down a little way. Inui's fingers tangled in the sparse, springy hair and he thought he'd die just from the heat flooding his face.
"Aa," was all Fuji said.
There was a time and a place for everything. If Inui could have chosen one for his first blowjob, it wouldn't have been in a raw and deserted plot as the sun was going down. At the very least, it would have been somewhere he could prepare a glass to spit into when at last Fuji came. He ended up having to hack into the grass beside him, which was neither dignified nor sexy.
And Fuji hadn't made a sound, unless you counted a soft sigh as Inui slid his lips down as far as he could go. He hadn't moved either -- not even to buck his hips up or run his hands through Inui's hair. Inui had to tuck his shorts back up for him when he made no move to do so himself.
"Well?" demanded Inui, and immediately regretted it -- and that was before Fuji spoke.
"Next time, less teeth."
end
+++
PS I still have no idea who'd be seme.