(no subject)
Title: Stretching Practice
Rating: R
Characters: Mukahi/Hiyoshi
Disclaimer: Konomi Sensei no PoT desu
Author's note: Wee little 4 AM drabble. Mukahi-senpai is kind enough to help Hiyoshi get more bendy. Dedicated to Oshitari and Ohtori, who were probably hiding in the closet watching.
It really wasn't his fault.
Hiyoshi's back was on the floor and his ankles were being pressed over his head. Mukahi-senpai stared down at him with the deeply innocent expression of someone up to no good, no good at all.
"You're not bad at this," Mukahi said grudgingly, and Hiyoshi noted with very little surprise that there were more than just hips pressing against his rear.
No, it really wasn't his fault. "No," he agreed softly, and his hips moved...totally against his will, really, "not bad at it at all." Hiyoshi grinned up and licked his lips, the slightest path of tongue tip around a mouth that had suddenly gone dry.
Mukahi's eyebrows hit his choppy hairline. His hands pressed Hiyoshi's ankles back...back back. "You must practicing getting yourself bent in half pretty often." Mukahi's little voice was brimming with snark. Mukahi's hips moved too, Hiyoshi noted, and suddenly the stretch became a little more difficult.
"As often as I can," Hiyoshi agreed again, squirming a bit uncomfortably. He was hit with the need to straighten out. "It’s part of my daily exercise routine. At the -- at the dojo." He swallowed again, staring up, his mind full of faces. Two in particular, vaguely disapproving ones, underneath that silver, that blue hair. Boyfriends, in fact. Hiyoshi's...Gakuto's.
But Gakuto was doing something else. Pulling Hiyoshi's legs wide, testing width. "Seriously flexible here," Mukahi-senpai said thoughtfully, and suddenly, with a small movement of Gakuto's body, they were pressed together in a manner far too intimate for anything but...
"Th-thank you," Hiyoshi gasped, and he had the pleasure of seeing Gakuto's eyes shut and his mouth open. Hiyoshi's hands felt a little useless so he put them to work, did what he could through all those (so unnecessary) layers of the Hyoutei tennis uniform.
"Practice...hard, kouhai," Mukahi panted out, arms stretching Hiyoshi so wide he felt split, but all Hiyoshi's focus was on his fingers and two very...pressing...concerns.
"I-try, senpai," Hiyoshi groaned, "try...hard," and when Mukahi's fingernails were digging into his ankles and his hips thrusting a hard quick rhythm against his own, Hiyoshi did the thing with his palms and their tips and suddenly, with a liquid mutual soundless (almost unacknowledged) splatter --
"Fuck. Now I have to change." Mukahi glared down at him.
Hiyoshi grinned up. "Thanks for helping me...stretch."
"Or something," Mukahi muttered, but a very small smile played around the edges of his mouth. "Next time, I’ll have to show you Downward Dog."
Rating: R
Characters: Mukahi/Hiyoshi
Disclaimer: Konomi Sensei no PoT desu
Author's note: Wee little 4 AM drabble. Mukahi-senpai is kind enough to help Hiyoshi get more bendy. Dedicated to Oshitari and Ohtori, who were probably hiding in the closet watching.
It really wasn't his fault.
Hiyoshi's back was on the floor and his ankles were being pressed over his head. Mukahi-senpai stared down at him with the deeply innocent expression of someone up to no good, no good at all.
"You're not bad at this," Mukahi said grudgingly, and Hiyoshi noted with very little surprise that there were more than just hips pressing against his rear.
No, it really wasn't his fault. "No," he agreed softly, and his hips moved...totally against his will, really, "not bad at it at all." Hiyoshi grinned up and licked his lips, the slightest path of tongue tip around a mouth that had suddenly gone dry.
Mukahi's eyebrows hit his choppy hairline. His hands pressed Hiyoshi's ankles back...back back. "You must practicing getting yourself bent in half pretty often." Mukahi's little voice was brimming with snark. Mukahi's hips moved too, Hiyoshi noted, and suddenly the stretch became a little more difficult.
"As often as I can," Hiyoshi agreed again, squirming a bit uncomfortably. He was hit with the need to straighten out. "It’s part of my daily exercise routine. At the -- at the dojo." He swallowed again, staring up, his mind full of faces. Two in particular, vaguely disapproving ones, underneath that silver, that blue hair. Boyfriends, in fact. Hiyoshi's...Gakuto's.
But Gakuto was doing something else. Pulling Hiyoshi's legs wide, testing width. "Seriously flexible here," Mukahi-senpai said thoughtfully, and suddenly, with a small movement of Gakuto's body, they were pressed together in a manner far too intimate for anything but...
"Th-thank you," Hiyoshi gasped, and he had the pleasure of seeing Gakuto's eyes shut and his mouth open. Hiyoshi's hands felt a little useless so he put them to work, did what he could through all those (so unnecessary) layers of the Hyoutei tennis uniform.
"Practice...hard, kouhai," Mukahi panted out, arms stretching Hiyoshi so wide he felt split, but all Hiyoshi's focus was on his fingers and two very...pressing...concerns.
"I-try, senpai," Hiyoshi groaned, "try...hard," and when Mukahi's fingernails were digging into his ankles and his hips thrusting a hard quick rhythm against his own, Hiyoshi did the thing with his palms and their tips and suddenly, with a liquid mutual soundless (almost unacknowledged) splatter --
"Fuck. Now I have to change." Mukahi glared down at him.
Hiyoshi grinned up. "Thanks for helping me...stretch."
"Or something," Mukahi muttered, but a very small smile played around the edges of his mouth. "Next time, I’ll have to show you Downward Dog."