OHHC: Consolation Prize
Title: Consolation Prize
Pairings: Kyouya/Tamaki, Haruhi/Mori, Haruhi/Everybody
Rating:NC-17
Genre: Unabashedly PWP
Originally posted here.
After Mori and Haruhi's wedding reception, the rest of the gentleman who had once made up the Ouran High School Host Club retired to Tamaki's house for drinks and reminiscences. Though Kaoru and Honey had long had girlfriends, Haruhi and Mori were the first of their group to be married. It was bittersweet, for the couple was obviously quite happy, but all the men remembered how Haruhi had been their first love. After talking and laughing long into the night, they began to drift home. Tamaki returned from the kitchen with a glass of water to find Kyouya alone at the table, tying his shoes in preparation to leave.
"You look tired, Mother," he said, setting his glass down and rubbing his best friend's shoulders. Kyouya sat back in his chair and relaxed into the massage as Tamaki's fingers seemed to find every knot and twist. He was quite good, with strong hands from years of piano playing and the knack of being able to find all the right spots.
"It's been a long day," he murmured, head falling forward.
"I should let you go and get some rest," Tamaki replied. He stopped massaging, his hands resting on the nape of Kyouya's neck for a moment. Kyouya turned and looked up at Tamaki. "Your hands are shaking."
"Just a long day, like you said," he replied, leaning back against the wall, hands hidden at the small of his back. His hair hid his eyes.
"Tamaki, are you upset?" Kyouya stood, gaze level with his best friend's.
"It's silly."
"It's understandable."
"I should be over her by now. I am--or I thought I was--"
"Weddings are emotional. I'm sure you'll be fine tomorrow."
"I guess." Tamaki shoved his hands into his pockets. He was still wearing his suit from the wedding but for the jacket, though his waistcoat was unbuttoned and his tie had long been flung off. "I mean I will. I know." He smiled ruefully and looked up, finding an expression he had never seen before on his friend's face.
"You loved her," he said softly.
"We all did," Kyouya said, eyes dark.
"What next, then?"
Kyouya's gaze was inscrutable.
Then he leaned forward and kissed Tamaki.
First, Tamaki felt surprise. Then pleasure. Then odd twisting feelings--astonishment? mortification? at the pleasure. Kyouya stepped back. Tamaki wasn't quite sure where his stomach was, or what it was doing, but he certainly didn't feel as if gravity were acting as it should be. And then Kyouya must have seen something in his eyes, for he leaned forward and kissed Tamaki again.
Tamaki was glad for the wall behind him. And then he forgot about it, because Kyouya slipped his tongue into his mouth. A shiver went up his spine at the gentle stroking on his tongue, and he realized he had a hand tangled in dark hair, another bracing himself against the wall. Kyouya's hands were on his hips, slipping up under his untucked shirt. Tentatively he brought his hand forward to Kyouya's chest. It was firm, with only the slightest dips and hills. His hips were narrow, a straight line down from his ribs, a jutting bone in front that curved down to--Tamaki felt himself grow warm.
Startled, he pulled away. Kyouya took the opportunity to bite his neck gently, and Tamaki arched forward, lean body meeting lean body. Kyouya kissed his neck, and murmured, "You're surprised."
"I don't care any more."
Kyouya pressed Tamaki against the wall, and each could feel the other's cock, hard.
"Do you want it?"
Tamaki's eyes widened. Kyouya pressed his hips in, and Tamaki's breath caught in his throat. "Do you?"
"Yes," he managed to whisper.
Eyes dark with arousal, Kyouya stepped away, and undid Tamaki's belt.
Kyouya knew exactly what he was doing. Warm breaths, gentle stroking, the flick of a warm, wet tongue along the tip. Tamaki was slouched against the wall, head back, breathing hard. Then Kyouya licked his lips, and Tamaki felt his cock engulfed. He brought him steadily up, up, then teased as Tamaki teetered on the edge. He was about to yell with frustration when Kyouya grazed the underside with his teeth, and the balance tipped. He collapsed against the wall, and a moment later Kyouya had him in his arms.
Tamaki nuzzled into Kyouya's shoulder as his senses slowly returned to him. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked thickly. "There is one thing," Kyouya said lightly.
"Anything."
"Do you have Vaseline?"
"What would you need Vaseline for?"
Kyouya pushed Tamaki into the wall and stalked off. He returned a moment later with the little pot. He leaned forward, running his teeth along Tamaki's ear. "Lube," he whispered.
Tamaki blushed deeply. The idea was . . . a new one, but, honestly, not one that repelled him. He took the pot of Vaseline from Kyouya's hand. "Let me," he said, voice deep in his throat. And he slid his lips down, and kissed down Kyouya's neck to the curve of his shoulder. It was different from kissing a girl. He wasn't sure how, but it was.
Tamaki moved to Kyouya's belt buckle. He had to unbutton his waiscoat first, and then slid it off Kyouya's shoulders, hands lingering on firm flesh and strong bone. Then the button . . . and the zipper . . . tentatively, Tamaki slid a hand in, and Kyouya drew breath sharply. Fabric slid away, and there was his best friend's cock--swollen--for him. He unscrewed the lid, dipped his fingers in the gel, and ran them down Kyouya's cock. The darker boy moaned quietly, deep in his throat.
Tamaki took pride in being able to pleasure others, and did not spare any effort here. He made a mundane necessity highly erotic, with skilled fingers and kisses along Kyouya's neck and jawline. Finally he thought he was finished, and set the pot down on the table. This time he leaned forward--the lips were firmer, and the kisses too, no pretense at shyness. When Kyouya wanted something, he went after it. His eyes opened, and he pushed Tamaki back against the wall, hands pinning hands against the smooth, cool surface.
And, inexplicably, Tamaki thought, Why didn't I know about this before?
And Kyouya was hissing "turn around" in his ear, and Tamaki did, and his best friend was hard against him, and he couldn't move and it was good. He gasped as Kyouya's fingers entered and stretched him, the other hand wrapped around him, pressed on his chest, holding him close. Then his hands moved down to Tamaki's hips, steadying, and then he was inside. Tamaki bit his lip at the strange, painful sensation, but then Kyouya moved, and oh god--
Tamaki's hands scrabbled at the wall for a handhold. Kyouya's fingers curled into skin. Tamaki panted. Kyouya moaned. Colors burst behind Kyouya's eyes, and it was his turn to collapse. Tamaki turned and grabbed him, and they slid to the floor, a tangle of man and sweat and clothing.
"You've done this before," Tamaki said into Kyouya's hair.
"I don't discriminate."
"Want to do it again?"
Pairings: Kyouya/Tamaki, Haruhi/Mori, Haruhi/Everybody
Rating:NC-17
Genre: Unabashedly PWP
Originally posted here.
After Mori and Haruhi's wedding reception, the rest of the gentleman who had once made up the Ouran High School Host Club retired to Tamaki's house for drinks and reminiscences. Though Kaoru and Honey had long had girlfriends, Haruhi and Mori were the first of their group to be married. It was bittersweet, for the couple was obviously quite happy, but all the men remembered how Haruhi had been their first love. After talking and laughing long into the night, they began to drift home. Tamaki returned from the kitchen with a glass of water to find Kyouya alone at the table, tying his shoes in preparation to leave.
"You look tired, Mother," he said, setting his glass down and rubbing his best friend's shoulders. Kyouya sat back in his chair and relaxed into the massage as Tamaki's fingers seemed to find every knot and twist. He was quite good, with strong hands from years of piano playing and the knack of being able to find all the right spots.
"It's been a long day," he murmured, head falling forward.
"I should let you go and get some rest," Tamaki replied. He stopped massaging, his hands resting on the nape of Kyouya's neck for a moment. Kyouya turned and looked up at Tamaki. "Your hands are shaking."
"Just a long day, like you said," he replied, leaning back against the wall, hands hidden at the small of his back. His hair hid his eyes.
"Tamaki, are you upset?" Kyouya stood, gaze level with his best friend's.
"It's silly."
"It's understandable."
"I should be over her by now. I am--or I thought I was--"
"Weddings are emotional. I'm sure you'll be fine tomorrow."
"I guess." Tamaki shoved his hands into his pockets. He was still wearing his suit from the wedding but for the jacket, though his waistcoat was unbuttoned and his tie had long been flung off. "I mean I will. I know." He smiled ruefully and looked up, finding an expression he had never seen before on his friend's face.
"You loved her," he said softly.
"We all did," Kyouya said, eyes dark.
"What next, then?"
Kyouya's gaze was inscrutable.
Then he leaned forward and kissed Tamaki.
First, Tamaki felt surprise. Then pleasure. Then odd twisting feelings--astonishment? mortification? at the pleasure. Kyouya stepped back. Tamaki wasn't quite sure where his stomach was, or what it was doing, but he certainly didn't feel as if gravity were acting as it should be. And then Kyouya must have seen something in his eyes, for he leaned forward and kissed Tamaki again.
Tamaki was glad for the wall behind him. And then he forgot about it, because Kyouya slipped his tongue into his mouth. A shiver went up his spine at the gentle stroking on his tongue, and he realized he had a hand tangled in dark hair, another bracing himself against the wall. Kyouya's hands were on his hips, slipping up under his untucked shirt. Tentatively he brought his hand forward to Kyouya's chest. It was firm, with only the slightest dips and hills. His hips were narrow, a straight line down from his ribs, a jutting bone in front that curved down to--Tamaki felt himself grow warm.
Startled, he pulled away. Kyouya took the opportunity to bite his neck gently, and Tamaki arched forward, lean body meeting lean body. Kyouya kissed his neck, and murmured, "You're surprised."
"I don't care any more."
Kyouya pressed Tamaki against the wall, and each could feel the other's cock, hard.
"Do you want it?"
Tamaki's eyes widened. Kyouya pressed his hips in, and Tamaki's breath caught in his throat. "Do you?"
"Yes," he managed to whisper.
Eyes dark with arousal, Kyouya stepped away, and undid Tamaki's belt.
Kyouya knew exactly what he was doing. Warm breaths, gentle stroking, the flick of a warm, wet tongue along the tip. Tamaki was slouched against the wall, head back, breathing hard. Then Kyouya licked his lips, and Tamaki felt his cock engulfed. He brought him steadily up, up, then teased as Tamaki teetered on the edge. He was about to yell with frustration when Kyouya grazed the underside with his teeth, and the balance tipped. He collapsed against the wall, and a moment later Kyouya had him in his arms.
Tamaki nuzzled into Kyouya's shoulder as his senses slowly returned to him. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked thickly. "There is one thing," Kyouya said lightly.
"Anything."
"Do you have Vaseline?"
"What would you need Vaseline for?"
Kyouya pushed Tamaki into the wall and stalked off. He returned a moment later with the little pot. He leaned forward, running his teeth along Tamaki's ear. "Lube," he whispered.
Tamaki blushed deeply. The idea was . . . a new one, but, honestly, not one that repelled him. He took the pot of Vaseline from Kyouya's hand. "Let me," he said, voice deep in his throat. And he slid his lips down, and kissed down Kyouya's neck to the curve of his shoulder. It was different from kissing a girl. He wasn't sure how, but it was.
Tamaki moved to Kyouya's belt buckle. He had to unbutton his waiscoat first, and then slid it off Kyouya's shoulders, hands lingering on firm flesh and strong bone. Then the button . . . and the zipper . . . tentatively, Tamaki slid a hand in, and Kyouya drew breath sharply. Fabric slid away, and there was his best friend's cock--swollen--for him. He unscrewed the lid, dipped his fingers in the gel, and ran them down Kyouya's cock. The darker boy moaned quietly, deep in his throat.
Tamaki took pride in being able to pleasure others, and did not spare any effort here. He made a mundane necessity highly erotic, with skilled fingers and kisses along Kyouya's neck and jawline. Finally he thought he was finished, and set the pot down on the table. This time he leaned forward--the lips were firmer, and the kisses too, no pretense at shyness. When Kyouya wanted something, he went after it. His eyes opened, and he pushed Tamaki back against the wall, hands pinning hands against the smooth, cool surface.
And, inexplicably, Tamaki thought, Why didn't I know about this before?
And Kyouya was hissing "turn around" in his ear, and Tamaki did, and his best friend was hard against him, and he couldn't move and it was good. He gasped as Kyouya's fingers entered and stretched him, the other hand wrapped around him, pressed on his chest, holding him close. Then his hands moved down to Tamaki's hips, steadying, and then he was inside. Tamaki bit his lip at the strange, painful sensation, but then Kyouya moved, and oh god--
Tamaki's hands scrabbled at the wall for a handhold. Kyouya's fingers curled into skin. Tamaki panted. Kyouya moaned. Colors burst behind Kyouya's eyes, and it was his turn to collapse. Tamaki turned and grabbed him, and they slid to the floor, a tangle of man and sweat and clothing.
"You've done this before," Tamaki said into Kyouya's hair.
"I don't discriminate."
"Want to do it again?"