[Matsushima]
[SMUT] COALESCE
measuringlife
co·a·lesce:
1. to grow together or into one body: The two lakes coalesced into one.
2. to unite so as to form one mass, community, etc.: The various groups coalesced into a crowd.
3. to blend or come together: Their ideas coalesced into one theory.
*
The only warning of Le Ping's arrival was his suitcase hitting the floor. In typical Le Ping fashion, he entirely forgot (or forwent, Isumi couldn't tell which) to mention this little detail in any of the few phone conversations or emails that passed between them.
In hasty Chinese, broken, halting Japanese with a few English words thrown in for good measure, Le Ping explained that he was studying for the next cup since his sensei had finally deemed him good enough to try his hand on other shores. With no booking plans or any other options, Isumi could hardly refuse him, not that he would have even given the right circumstances.
Waya was, understandably, incensed. Their apartment, if you could call it that was already cramped with two people. Three turned it uncomfortable. The Livingroom/bedroom with its pull-out bed that also served as a couch now was to fit three people, as Isumi was too kind to kick Le Ping to the floor, even with a sleeping bag.
Le Ping, unlike Waya, was a light sleeper. The slightest creak of the bedsprings would send him wide awake.
*
From games of Go to almost any conceivable task, Le Ping and Waya find a way to turn it into rivalry. If Le Ping got stuck with dishes duty, then Waya would take drying simply to finish twice as fast.
Their Go resembled Touya and Shindou's more notorious games, not only with intensity of the game played, but the amount of fighting that went on throughout. Except their games had a lot more insults thrown, half of them in Chinese.
The best way to tell them apart when they weren't speaking was height. Le Ping had shot up several inches since that summer in China, and now stood a good 2 inches taller than Waya. Something that galled Waya to no end.
It wasn't all fighting, Isumi admitted.
Sometimes he would look in and Waya would be pulling Le Ping down to give him an almost affectionate noogie as they both laughed together.
*
Le Ping fit into the world of tournaments and Go salons better than Isumi had hoped. He got on so well it took Shindou half into a game to realize that he wasn't playing Waya.
Other than being Waya's long lost Chinese twin, Le Ping carved out his own identity. He was reckless at times, but a sharp player and anyone who let their guard down would be taken down in mere turns.
*
Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed.
Isumi grew used to their bickering, it was almost friendly now. Familiar.
Isumi found peace in the chaos.
*
Isumi was only slightly drunk. He never allowed himself to fall into the incoherence, the other lands of intoxication that so many others explored. Long after Waya was into his fifth shot, Isumi would take sips of his sake, making it last all night.
But tonight there was three of them on the couch that barely could hold two, and Waya and Le Ping seemed determined to see who could get the most drunk before sunup. The small TV had some drama that Isumi was only half-watching. His companions laughter drowned it out and truth be told their reactions to each other, binding a kind of force, like two north sides of a magnet, was far more interesting than Hanako-chan's twisted love life.
It was then that he felt fingers cupping his chin and lips pressed against his in a clumsy, ungraceful kiss.
He knew it couldn't be Waya. Even as drunk as Waya was, he'd tested the limits and known Waya's body for years. There was a comfort between them, this kiss was searching, finding where Waya's had always found. When the kiss broke, Isumi felt dazed. For a moment he honestly expected Waya to punch Le Ping, the true root of their rivalry finally exposed to the air. Instead Waya grabbed Isumi and kissed him, far harder and more possessively than Le Ping had done.
Le Ping responded to this with a frown and began to kiss Isumi's neck, nibbling and biting just below his shirt collar.
"L-Le Ping, Wa-" Isumi said, but was silenced as Waya kissed him. He slipped his tongue against Isumi's lips and almost instinctively, without thought, Isumi responded.
It crossed his mind to protest more, but he was drunk enough that his thoughts were slowed, blurry. Gravity felt heavier, and pleasure drowned out any of the possible arguments he could've made.
He heard a curse (Chinese) and heard the tiny breaks as the buttons - and half the side were ripped off of his favorite dress shirt.
Fingers trailed over his skin, Le Ping's, Waya's, both were nibbling over flesh and vessels. Isumi gasped.
Isumi felt a hand gripping at the base of his cock and moaned, unable to contain that moment of dizzying, heady, spinning pleasure. It was only intensified when he felt his pants being pulled down all the way and the tip of his cock first being licked, testingly, and then swallowed.
Isumi's mind was numb in a blissful state of amnesia, he couldn't remember or even think of anything but this moment and the increasing sensations spreading through his body.
He felt a hand replace where Le Ping's mouth had been, both were stroking him, out of sync. Le Ping scowled and Waya returned the glare, just fierce and piercing. Waya grabbed Le Ping with his free hand and kissed him, a hard kiss, with teeth and lips crossing, biting. Isumi could only watch, his mind drenched in all the myriad sensations.
He came then, the heat under his skin coursing through his veins.
He only had a moment's rest, as the pleasure had just begun to die down before he felt someone tugging him up. Isumi stumbled to his feet, one of them pulled out the bed - Waya, he supposed while another kept arms wrapped tight around his waist. When the bed was finally unfurled properly, Isumi was dragged down again between them.
He only gave a slight cry of shock that was silenced by another mouth on his. A tongue slid against his lips. He felt sloppy kisses against his shoulders and neck, hands wandering over him, greedy and aching for more. He still felt dazed and slighty drunk and at this point he could barely tell Waya from Le Ping. The lines blurred, they coalesced together.
The other two were still far drunker than Isumi was, they had seemingly chosen to settle for half-clothed, clumsy friction. Arms encircled him from the back around his chest. Hands clasped against his shoulders, stroking with each kiss.
Isumi felt sticky and still a little drunk. His mind darkened, the sound of their heavy breathing lulled him to sleep.
*
Isumi was the only one who didn't wake up with a hangover. He, however woke up with another kind of aftershock, his body worn and slightly aching, and yet with the kind of pleasant mood and relaxation that came with nights like this.
(Isumi was sure he'd heard Ogata-sensei call it ‘Well-shagged' before. Even the memory brought the hint of a blush to his cheeks)
He slipped out, grateful for once that Le Ping had been apparently too affected by last night's sake to wake up when the bedsprings creaked under the shifting of his weight. He snuck out on tiptoe and grabbed a glass of water for his parched throat. For once he didn't bother with modesty as his pants seemed lodged far beyond the couch and his shirt was already in shreds.
From the room he heard muffled groans, and then squeaking springs. He downed another glass before he heard one, then both of them rise, yawning loudly as they did so.
"Isumi is mine."
"Not anymore, push over."
Isumi set aside the glass, to be washed later, and returned to the livingroom/bedroom. The sheets were a mess and clothes lay thrown in odd places, as if scattered by a storm. They stared each other down, almost mirrors of the same image.
"Maybe we can share," Le Ping said.
Waya raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe I was here first."
Le Ping stuck his tongue out and instead of glaring or fighting, Waya kissed him again. Their kissing was like a scuffle in itself, and Isumi sighed internally.
Isumi felt less worried when he heard Le Ping giggling as he kissed Waya back with just as much, if not more fervor. When they pulled apart and broke the kiss, Le Ping scrunched his nose up.
"Blegh, you need to brush," Le Ping said.
"Like you don't?" Waya shot back.
"And you need a shower too!"
This caused another scuffle which turned into kissing again.
Isumi slipped back onto the bed and the springs creaked, this caused a cease-fire with both boys as they turned their attention to him. Isumi smiled to himself as he felt kisses pressed against his neck, against his chest. They were tender with a trace of possessiveness. No one was left out as he bent to kiss both of them, sure to be equal in his attentions lest either become jealous.
At this rate, Le Ping and Waya, his boys would become downright fond of each other, albeit grudgingly so.
Isumi knew it'd all work out in the end. Somehow.
They'd make it work.
measuringlife
co·a·lesce:
1. to grow together or into one body: The two lakes coalesced into one.
2. to unite so as to form one mass, community, etc.: The various groups coalesced into a crowd.
3. to blend or come together: Their ideas coalesced into one theory.
*
The only warning of Le Ping's arrival was his suitcase hitting the floor. In typical Le Ping fashion, he entirely forgot (or forwent, Isumi couldn't tell which) to mention this little detail in any of the few phone conversations or emails that passed between them.
In hasty Chinese, broken, halting Japanese with a few English words thrown in for good measure, Le Ping explained that he was studying for the next cup since his sensei had finally deemed him good enough to try his hand on other shores. With no booking plans or any other options, Isumi could hardly refuse him, not that he would have even given the right circumstances.
Waya was, understandably, incensed. Their apartment, if you could call it that was already cramped with two people. Three turned it uncomfortable. The Livingroom/bedroom with its pull-out bed that also served as a couch now was to fit three people, as Isumi was too kind to kick Le Ping to the floor, even with a sleeping bag.
Le Ping, unlike Waya, was a light sleeper. The slightest creak of the bedsprings would send him wide awake.
*
From games of Go to almost any conceivable task, Le Ping and Waya find a way to turn it into rivalry. If Le Ping got stuck with dishes duty, then Waya would take drying simply to finish twice as fast.
Their Go resembled Touya and Shindou's more notorious games, not only with intensity of the game played, but the amount of fighting that went on throughout. Except their games had a lot more insults thrown, half of them in Chinese.
The best way to tell them apart when they weren't speaking was height. Le Ping had shot up several inches since that summer in China, and now stood a good 2 inches taller than Waya. Something that galled Waya to no end.
It wasn't all fighting, Isumi admitted.
Sometimes he would look in and Waya would be pulling Le Ping down to give him an almost affectionate noogie as they both laughed together.
*
Le Ping fit into the world of tournaments and Go salons better than Isumi had hoped. He got on so well it took Shindou half into a game to realize that he wasn't playing Waya.
Other than being Waya's long lost Chinese twin, Le Ping carved out his own identity. He was reckless at times, but a sharp player and anyone who let their guard down would be taken down in mere turns.
*
Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed.
Isumi grew used to their bickering, it was almost friendly now. Familiar.
Isumi found peace in the chaos.
*
Isumi was only slightly drunk. He never allowed himself to fall into the incoherence, the other lands of intoxication that so many others explored. Long after Waya was into his fifth shot, Isumi would take sips of his sake, making it last all night.
But tonight there was three of them on the couch that barely could hold two, and Waya and Le Ping seemed determined to see who could get the most drunk before sunup. The small TV had some drama that Isumi was only half-watching. His companions laughter drowned it out and truth be told their reactions to each other, binding a kind of force, like two north sides of a magnet, was far more interesting than Hanako-chan's twisted love life.
It was then that he felt fingers cupping his chin and lips pressed against his in a clumsy, ungraceful kiss.
He knew it couldn't be Waya. Even as drunk as Waya was, he'd tested the limits and known Waya's body for years. There was a comfort between them, this kiss was searching, finding where Waya's had always found. When the kiss broke, Isumi felt dazed. For a moment he honestly expected Waya to punch Le Ping, the true root of their rivalry finally exposed to the air. Instead Waya grabbed Isumi and kissed him, far harder and more possessively than Le Ping had done.
Le Ping responded to this with a frown and began to kiss Isumi's neck, nibbling and biting just below his shirt collar.
"L-Le Ping, Wa-" Isumi said, but was silenced as Waya kissed him. He slipped his tongue against Isumi's lips and almost instinctively, without thought, Isumi responded.
It crossed his mind to protest more, but he was drunk enough that his thoughts were slowed, blurry. Gravity felt heavier, and pleasure drowned out any of the possible arguments he could've made.
He heard a curse (Chinese) and heard the tiny breaks as the buttons - and half the side were ripped off of his favorite dress shirt.
Fingers trailed over his skin, Le Ping's, Waya's, both were nibbling over flesh and vessels. Isumi gasped.
Isumi felt a hand gripping at the base of his cock and moaned, unable to contain that moment of dizzying, heady, spinning pleasure. It was only intensified when he felt his pants being pulled down all the way and the tip of his cock first being licked, testingly, and then swallowed.
Isumi's mind was numb in a blissful state of amnesia, he couldn't remember or even think of anything but this moment and the increasing sensations spreading through his body.
He felt a hand replace where Le Ping's mouth had been, both were stroking him, out of sync. Le Ping scowled and Waya returned the glare, just fierce and piercing. Waya grabbed Le Ping with his free hand and kissed him, a hard kiss, with teeth and lips crossing, biting. Isumi could only watch, his mind drenched in all the myriad sensations.
He came then, the heat under his skin coursing through his veins.
He only had a moment's rest, as the pleasure had just begun to die down before he felt someone tugging him up. Isumi stumbled to his feet, one of them pulled out the bed - Waya, he supposed while another kept arms wrapped tight around his waist. When the bed was finally unfurled properly, Isumi was dragged down again between them.
He only gave a slight cry of shock that was silenced by another mouth on his. A tongue slid against his lips. He felt sloppy kisses against his shoulders and neck, hands wandering over him, greedy and aching for more. He still felt dazed and slighty drunk and at this point he could barely tell Waya from Le Ping. The lines blurred, they coalesced together.
The other two were still far drunker than Isumi was, they had seemingly chosen to settle for half-clothed, clumsy friction. Arms encircled him from the back around his chest. Hands clasped against his shoulders, stroking with each kiss.
Isumi felt sticky and still a little drunk. His mind darkened, the sound of their heavy breathing lulled him to sleep.
*
Isumi was the only one who didn't wake up with a hangover. He, however woke up with another kind of aftershock, his body worn and slightly aching, and yet with the kind of pleasant mood and relaxation that came with nights like this.
(Isumi was sure he'd heard Ogata-sensei call it ‘Well-shagged' before. Even the memory brought the hint of a blush to his cheeks)
He slipped out, grateful for once that Le Ping had been apparently too affected by last night's sake to wake up when the bedsprings creaked under the shifting of his weight. He snuck out on tiptoe and grabbed a glass of water for his parched throat. For once he didn't bother with modesty as his pants seemed lodged far beyond the couch and his shirt was already in shreds.
From the room he heard muffled groans, and then squeaking springs. He downed another glass before he heard one, then both of them rise, yawning loudly as they did so.
"Isumi is mine."
"Not anymore, push over."
Isumi set aside the glass, to be washed later, and returned to the livingroom/bedroom. The sheets were a mess and clothes lay thrown in odd places, as if scattered by a storm. They stared each other down, almost mirrors of the same image.
"Maybe we can share," Le Ping said.
Waya raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe I was here first."
Le Ping stuck his tongue out and instead of glaring or fighting, Waya kissed him again. Their kissing was like a scuffle in itself, and Isumi sighed internally.
Isumi felt less worried when he heard Le Ping giggling as he kissed Waya back with just as much, if not more fervor. When they pulled apart and broke the kiss, Le Ping scrunched his nose up.
"Blegh, you need to brush," Le Ping said.
"Like you don't?" Waya shot back.
"And you need a shower too!"
This caused another scuffle which turned into kissing again.
Isumi slipped back onto the bed and the springs creaked, this caused a cease-fire with both boys as they turned their attention to him. Isumi smiled to himself as he felt kisses pressed against his neck, against his chest. They were tender with a trace of possessiveness. No one was left out as he bent to kiss both of them, sure to be equal in his attentions lest either become jealous.
At this rate, Le Ping and Waya, his boys would become downright fond of each other, albeit grudgingly so.
Isumi knew it'd all work out in the end. Somehow.
They'd make it work.