Two down~!
Title A Whirlwind Romance
For: drabble challenge, zerotwofan
Challenge: SenTori with mention of Ohtori's gingerbread and spiced tea kisses.
Series: Prince of Tennis
Other Notes: This takes place when everyone is an adult, many years after the first six months of Match Point. Shishido, should he have existed in the past, never appears in this fic. ::waves to him:: Ohtori is a musician in an orchestra an Sengoku is a doctor.
Words: 495 OMG. I had word issues like no one's business. So much was lost. SO MUCH.
They had met again by accident. Sengoku had been avoiding the hospital director and Ohtori had been getting another drink. They had collided three feet from the bar and only luck had saved their drinks. Limbs briefly entangled and eyes had met in that single moment of polite embarrassment, trapped within one another for that eternal instant. Suddenly flushed, they had both looked away.
"Sengoku-san!/Ohtori! What are you doing here? I'm -- " They both started and stopped.
Sengoku laughed and clapped Ohtori on the shoulder. "It's nice to see you again. -- "
"Yes, it has been a -- " Ohtori started, but Sengoku continued before he could finish, turning wobbling green eyes on him, "But can you hide me? The director is after me!"
This time it was Ohtori's turn to laugh as he smiled a mischievous smile he had learned from Sengoku long ago, "Of course, Sengoku-san. Right this way ... "
The second time they spoke it was tentatively. Ohtori had called Sengoku at his apartment one night when the lights were dim and Sengoku sat poised on the rail of his balcony, drinking gin and marveling quietly at the burning sparks of light that indicated the life below.
"Am I calling too late, Sengoku-san?" Ohtori asked in barely a whisper. He sat in his own apartment, staring blindly out the window, draped in his bed covers as he wondered why he should call so suddenly in the silence of the midnight.
"You're never too late," Sengoku replied just as quietly, answering more than one question in the darkness that wrapped the both of them.
The third time they met it was by design. Sengoku had suggested a dinner to renew their acquaintance and Ohtori had agreed, saying he knew just the place. That was how they had found themselves at the Chateau de Faux, eating things that Sengoku had pretended dramatics over until Ohtori had finally smacked him with his napkin and pretended to scold him while trying not to laugh. They did not know who suggested the walk first, but they both had risen and left the restaurant, strolling side by side through the streets.
The first time they kissed it was sweet. They had paused beneath a tree to watch the moon rise and the moment grew longer as hands touched. Ohtori had turned to look down at his companion in time for Sengoku's lips to meet his own. Then they had been caught then in the sweet, fiery mesh of lips and tongue and the battle to taste the other to the fullest. They broke only to breathe, forehead against forehead as they stared hungrily into each other's hooded eyes.
"You still taste like spiced tea and gingerbread," Sengoku whispered and Ohtori couldn't help but smile.
The last time they met it was an all consuming passion that had burned everything else away. This time they could not escape each other and knew they didn't want to.
Title Rituals
For: drabble challenge, genx88
Challenge: Sengoku and Akutsu sharing cigarettes without mention of indirect kisses.
Series: Prince of Tennis
Other Notes: The only challenge so far where sex is actually mentioned in direct terms
Words: 500. The word limit BURNS me every time.
It was long minutes before Jin dropped out of the after glow and groaned, shifting to dislodge Sengoku's dead weight from his chest. The redhead murmured a protest but slid to the side, throwing an arm around his chest instead. Jin groaned again as he pushed himself up and reached for his cigarettes, pulling one out of the cellophane package and sticking it in his mouth. Reaching down, Jin gave Sengoku a shove, "Where's your lighter?"
He smirked as Sengoku blinked sleepily and shot him a pitiful look before rolling over to fumble with their discarded clothes. Jin's smirk widened when the redhead pushed himself up, letting the cover fall to his waist as he turned back to Jin, lighter in hand. A flame sparked to life as Sengoku lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter ignobly next to the package on the nightstand. Jin wrapped an arm around the Sengoku's waist, dragging him close as Jin leaned back against the pillows, inhaling the tobacco smoke leisurely.
This was Jin's favorite time. This space in between when the illusion of his power was draped across the room like a cloak. Now was when his fingers traced the pale shape beside him, stoking every mark he had managed to imprint in the canvas of Sengoku's skin. This was the time when Sengoku laid warm and compliant in his arms, only moving to steal his cigarette. The redhead plucked the fag away as if on cue, licking the end in a lazy manner before sucking smoke as pale as his skin into his lungs. Jin bent his head when Sengoku pulled the cigarette away, sealing his mouth over the Sengoku's in a hard kiss and stealing the smoke as it was exhaled. Fingers stroked Jin's lips, a thumb catching momentarily between them before the cigarette was returned, taking the place of the thumb.
The first cigarette died and he flicked it into the ashtray before replacing it. This time, it was the silence and stillness that was sweetest. The incessant chattering of his companion was quieted in the heady languor of smoke and sex, of sated limbs and darkened eyes. Jin smoked this one alone, content in the lazy warmth as he stared idly at the ceiling.
The cigarette burned low and Jin glanced to the side, ready for the redhead that rose like a pale serpent from the depths. Fingers stole the cigarette away, exchanging it for hungry lips. Jin never admitted that he liked this as well; the moment when the illusion was taken away, replaced with the pleasure that was Sengoku's hand wrapping around his cock. He groaned when their kiss broke and Sengoku leaned back on an elbow, taking a slow drag on the cigarette's final remnants as Jin arched helplessly beneath the thumb that rubbed roughly over the head of his cock.
The cigarette was sent to join the first, a final note on the moment that faded away as Sengoku pinned Jin beneath him once more.
For: drabble challenge, zerotwofan
Challenge: SenTori with mention of Ohtori's gingerbread and spiced tea kisses.
Series: Prince of Tennis
Other Notes: This takes place when everyone is an adult, many years after the first six months of Match Point. Shishido, should he have existed in the past, never appears in this fic. ::waves to him:: Ohtori is a musician in an orchestra an Sengoku is a doctor.
Words: 495 OMG. I had word issues like no one's business. So much was lost. SO MUCH.
They had met again by accident. Sengoku had been avoiding the hospital director and Ohtori had been getting another drink. They had collided three feet from the bar and only luck had saved their drinks. Limbs briefly entangled and eyes had met in that single moment of polite embarrassment, trapped within one another for that eternal instant. Suddenly flushed, they had both looked away.
"Sengoku-san!/Ohtori! What are you doing here? I'm -- " They both started and stopped.
Sengoku laughed and clapped Ohtori on the shoulder. "It's nice to see you again. -- "
"Yes, it has been a -- " Ohtori started, but Sengoku continued before he could finish, turning wobbling green eyes on him, "But can you hide me? The director is after me!"
This time it was Ohtori's turn to laugh as he smiled a mischievous smile he had learned from Sengoku long ago, "Of course, Sengoku-san. Right this way ... "
The second time they spoke it was tentatively. Ohtori had called Sengoku at his apartment one night when the lights were dim and Sengoku sat poised on the rail of his balcony, drinking gin and marveling quietly at the burning sparks of light that indicated the life below.
"Am I calling too late, Sengoku-san?" Ohtori asked in barely a whisper. He sat in his own apartment, staring blindly out the window, draped in his bed covers as he wondered why he should call so suddenly in the silence of the midnight.
"You're never too late," Sengoku replied just as quietly, answering more than one question in the darkness that wrapped the both of them.
The third time they met it was by design. Sengoku had suggested a dinner to renew their acquaintance and Ohtori had agreed, saying he knew just the place. That was how they had found themselves at the Chateau de Faux, eating things that Sengoku had pretended dramatics over until Ohtori had finally smacked him with his napkin and pretended to scold him while trying not to laugh. They did not know who suggested the walk first, but they both had risen and left the restaurant, strolling side by side through the streets.
The first time they kissed it was sweet. They had paused beneath a tree to watch the moon rise and the moment grew longer as hands touched. Ohtori had turned to look down at his companion in time for Sengoku's lips to meet his own. Then they had been caught then in the sweet, fiery mesh of lips and tongue and the battle to taste the other to the fullest. They broke only to breathe, forehead against forehead as they stared hungrily into each other's hooded eyes.
"You still taste like spiced tea and gingerbread," Sengoku whispered and Ohtori couldn't help but smile.
The last time they met it was an all consuming passion that had burned everything else away. This time they could not escape each other and knew they didn't want to.
Title Rituals
For: drabble challenge, genx88
Challenge: Sengoku and Akutsu sharing cigarettes without mention of indirect kisses.
Series: Prince of Tennis
Other Notes: The only challenge so far where sex is actually mentioned in direct terms
Words: 500. The word limit BURNS me every time.
It was long minutes before Jin dropped out of the after glow and groaned, shifting to dislodge Sengoku's dead weight from his chest. The redhead murmured a protest but slid to the side, throwing an arm around his chest instead. Jin groaned again as he pushed himself up and reached for his cigarettes, pulling one out of the cellophane package and sticking it in his mouth. Reaching down, Jin gave Sengoku a shove, "Where's your lighter?"
He smirked as Sengoku blinked sleepily and shot him a pitiful look before rolling over to fumble with their discarded clothes. Jin's smirk widened when the redhead pushed himself up, letting the cover fall to his waist as he turned back to Jin, lighter in hand. A flame sparked to life as Sengoku lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter ignobly next to the package on the nightstand. Jin wrapped an arm around the Sengoku's waist, dragging him close as Jin leaned back against the pillows, inhaling the tobacco smoke leisurely.
This was Jin's favorite time. This space in between when the illusion of his power was draped across the room like a cloak. Now was when his fingers traced the pale shape beside him, stoking every mark he had managed to imprint in the canvas of Sengoku's skin. This was the time when Sengoku laid warm and compliant in his arms, only moving to steal his cigarette. The redhead plucked the fag away as if on cue, licking the end in a lazy manner before sucking smoke as pale as his skin into his lungs. Jin bent his head when Sengoku pulled the cigarette away, sealing his mouth over the Sengoku's in a hard kiss and stealing the smoke as it was exhaled. Fingers stroked Jin's lips, a thumb catching momentarily between them before the cigarette was returned, taking the place of the thumb.
The first cigarette died and he flicked it into the ashtray before replacing it. This time, it was the silence and stillness that was sweetest. The incessant chattering of his companion was quieted in the heady languor of smoke and sex, of sated limbs and darkened eyes. Jin smoked this one alone, content in the lazy warmth as he stared idly at the ceiling.
The cigarette burned low and Jin glanced to the side, ready for the redhead that rose like a pale serpent from the depths. Fingers stole the cigarette away, exchanging it for hungry lips. Jin never admitted that he liked this as well; the moment when the illusion was taken away, replaced with the pleasure that was Sengoku's hand wrapping around his cock. He groaned when their kiss broke and Sengoku leaned back on an elbow, taking a slow drag on the cigarette's final remnants as Jin arched helplessly beneath the thumb that rubbed roughly over the head of his cock.
The cigarette was sent to join the first, a final note on the moment that faded away as Sengoku pinned Jin beneath him once more.