drabbles [Prince of Tennis, Nana, Harry Potter]
a little pain. Prince of Tennis. Inui, Tezuka, Ryoma; R.
Inui rewinds the Echizen versus Nadal match. Clicks his stopwatch again and again. Records. Repeats. Repeats. Repeats. Averages for error. Analyzes.
He picks up his phone and dials Tezuka's number. He has it on speed dial, but he prefers typing out each number. 0-3-4-9-4-2-6-2-9-0. It rings four times.
Inui doesn't begin with greetings -- he doesn't want to have to hear the click of the line being disconnected. Instead: "Echizen has improved his footwork; my calculations estimate that his steps are 1.4 times quicker. This is due to his continued growth spurt, concentrated primarily in his legs -- by the end of the year, he should reach 155.42 centimeters if no new variables are introduced."
He doesn't say Tezuka's name, or his own. He talks about Echizen, talks until his throat is parched for juice. Tezuka never says anything back. Based on the increasing need for oxygen in Tezuka's breath, Inui hypothesizes that there is a 62% chance that Tezuka develops erections during these talks. Thinking about this has a 100% chance of making Inui hard too.
When Tezuka hangs up, Inui doesn't move the phone from his ear for a while as he strokes his cock. He imagines Tezuka touching himself at the very same moment, eyes closed and mouth parted just slightly. He imagines what Tezuka's fingers look like curled around his dick, where his thumb would rest, how fast he would go (Inui has measurements of nearly every inch of Tezuka, and he knows the average physiological ratios for discerning Tezuka's size, and but he accounts for Tezuka defying logic in his visualizations). He imagines Tezuka grunting a name, and even in his imagination he doesn't pretend it's his own.
-
Once, Inui had called Tezuka to tell him that he was in love with him, but Tezuka'd hung up before he could finish saying his name.
mirror, mirror. Nana. Hachi-centric, OOC weirdness; PG.
Nana is out late, and your CD starts skipping, and there are absolutely no magazine articles that you haven't read, so you walk with little pink socks over to Nana's room. You put on her clothes, even though they cling too tightly, too scandelously, and you put on her makeup, even though it isn't cute, but sexy and thick.
You try to frown into the mirror, but it looks ridiculous. Nana doesn't frown. You try to clear your face of any expression, and for a second, you look a bit liker her. "Nana," you say, "My name is Nana."
You imagine having Nana's life, but you know Nana now, and she's not who you thought she was, but then, you're not what she thought either. You think about your own life, and you wonder, is there anyone worth pretending to be? Is there anyone who has it easy?
eight. Nana. Nana/Ren, Nana/Hachi-ish; PG.
"The flower is for Daddy," Kaede says, tracing the petals on Mama's shoulder with her tiny fingers.
"The leaf is for me," she continues, trailing her touch to Mama's back.
She pauses and flips Mama's hand over so she can see her wrist. A black tattoo in the shape of infinity looks back at her. "Who's this one for?" she asks.
"The tattoos are for people I love," Mama says, brushing Kaede's hair back behind her ear, and when Kaede is older, she'll realize that Mama never answered.
countdown to the moon. Harry Potter. Hermione/Cho; NC-17.
10
is Cho’s fingers, sowing rows of blood-red flowers along Hermione’s back. Her nails are beautiful and wicked - ridiculously sharp - and the pain reminds Hermione that this is a war, and that she’s losing. She arches off of the wall into flesh and a fury of lips, and decides to fight back, sliding her lips downward.
9
is the how many times Hermione bites at the cold jut of hip, her tongue laving the skin until it remembers her, until it couldn’t forget her if it wanted to. More effective than a tattoo is a tongue. Cho screams when the lips move to her cunt.
8
thoughts come to Hermione’s mind concerning Cho’s pussy: red, hot, slick, salty, pure, throbbing, alive - mine. She smiles as Cho bites her lip before letting loose the words she’d been trying to keep for dignity’s sake.
7
words are enough to set Hermione moaning as she sucks, slippery, obscene sounds echoing through the room. Her moans vibrate exquisitely against Cho’s cunt. “Fuck me, God, please - I am yours.”
6
times Cho blinks as she feels her vagina tighten, feels herself tense under the ministrations of Hermione’s tongue. There are tears on her face when she pulls the younger girl up to make her eat them.
5
fast kisses, hurried, but salt-sweet, bruise Hermione’s neck as Cho’s
4
fingers are twisting deep within her so full.
3
seconds and she’ll be
2
close to turn back.
1
oath: “Yours.”
Inui rewinds the Echizen versus Nadal match. Clicks his stopwatch again and again. Records. Repeats. Repeats. Repeats. Averages for error. Analyzes.
He picks up his phone and dials Tezuka's number. He has it on speed dial, but he prefers typing out each number. 0-3-4-9-4-2-6-2-9-0. It rings four times.
Inui doesn't begin with greetings -- he doesn't want to have to hear the click of the line being disconnected. Instead: "Echizen has improved his footwork; my calculations estimate that his steps are 1.4 times quicker. This is due to his continued growth spurt, concentrated primarily in his legs -- by the end of the year, he should reach 155.42 centimeters if no new variables are introduced."
He doesn't say Tezuka's name, or his own. He talks about Echizen, talks until his throat is parched for juice. Tezuka never says anything back. Based on the increasing need for oxygen in Tezuka's breath, Inui hypothesizes that there is a 62% chance that Tezuka develops erections during these talks. Thinking about this has a 100% chance of making Inui hard too.
When Tezuka hangs up, Inui doesn't move the phone from his ear for a while as he strokes his cock. He imagines Tezuka touching himself at the very same moment, eyes closed and mouth parted just slightly. He imagines what Tezuka's fingers look like curled around his dick, where his thumb would rest, how fast he would go (Inui has measurements of nearly every inch of Tezuka, and he knows the average physiological ratios for discerning Tezuka's size, and but he accounts for Tezuka defying logic in his visualizations). He imagines Tezuka grunting a name, and even in his imagination he doesn't pretend it's his own.
-
Once, Inui had called Tezuka to tell him that he was in love with him, but Tezuka'd hung up before he could finish saying his name.
mirror, mirror. Nana. Hachi-centric, OOC weirdness; PG.
Nana is out late, and your CD starts skipping, and there are absolutely no magazine articles that you haven't read, so you walk with little pink socks over to Nana's room. You put on her clothes, even though they cling too tightly, too scandelously, and you put on her makeup, even though it isn't cute, but sexy and thick.
You try to frown into the mirror, but it looks ridiculous. Nana doesn't frown. You try to clear your face of any expression, and for a second, you look a bit liker her. "Nana," you say, "My name is Nana."
You imagine having Nana's life, but you know Nana now, and she's not who you thought she was, but then, you're not what she thought either. You think about your own life, and you wonder, is there anyone worth pretending to be? Is there anyone who has it easy?
eight. Nana. Nana/Ren, Nana/Hachi-ish; PG.
"The flower is for Daddy," Kaede says, tracing the petals on Mama's shoulder with her tiny fingers.
"The leaf is for me," she continues, trailing her touch to Mama's back.
She pauses and flips Mama's hand over so she can see her wrist. A black tattoo in the shape of infinity looks back at her. "Who's this one for?" she asks.
"The tattoos are for people I love," Mama says, brushing Kaede's hair back behind her ear, and when Kaede is older, she'll realize that Mama never answered.
countdown to the moon. Harry Potter. Hermione/Cho; NC-17.
10
is Cho’s fingers, sowing rows of blood-red flowers along Hermione’s back. Her nails are beautiful and wicked - ridiculously sharp - and the pain reminds Hermione that this is a war, and that she’s losing. She arches off of the wall into flesh and a fury of lips, and decides to fight back, sliding her lips downward.
9
is the how many times Hermione bites at the cold jut of hip, her tongue laving the skin until it remembers her, until it couldn’t forget her if it wanted to. More effective than a tattoo is a tongue. Cho screams when the lips move to her cunt.
8
thoughts come to Hermione’s mind concerning Cho’s pussy: red, hot, slick, salty, pure, throbbing, alive - mine. She smiles as Cho bites her lip before letting loose the words she’d been trying to keep for dignity’s sake.
7
words are enough to set Hermione moaning as she sucks, slippery, obscene sounds echoing through the room. Her moans vibrate exquisitely against Cho’s cunt. “Fuck me, God, please - I am yours.”
6
times Cho blinks as she feels her vagina tighten, feels herself tense under the ministrations of Hermione’s tongue. There are tears on her face when she pulls the younger girl up to make her eat them.
5
fast kisses, hurried, but salt-sweet, bruise Hermione’s neck as Cho’s
4
fingers are twisting deep within her so full.
3
seconds and she’ll be
2
close to turn back.
1
oath: “Yours.”