so it is the anniversary of spawning for someone
And now it's midnight here, so... Happy Birthday Dear Maia~~~ <3<3<3 (Just read that like the song, you know how it goes. Imagine it in Very Loud, that's the only way I sing the birthday song. :D)
Hope you enjoy. :3
Leisurely Pursuits
Shochikubai Miroku/Kikumasamune Seishirou, Yuukan Club (or, Akanishi Jin/Yokoyama You)
R-- ehh, it’s pretty tame, I think
I'm pretty sure none of these things have ever happened, or ever will. Also I don't get paid for this
The Yuukan Club’s meeting room is comfortably warm, late afternoon sun spilling in as Seishirou pores over a voluminous tome. Miroku is sitting across from him, his half of the table scattered with bits of electronics as he thoughtfully tinkered, crunching down on the remains of a lollipop.
The thud of chair legs against the floor and a deep sigh prompt Seishirou to look up, eyebrows raised questioningly. “What?”
“I’m bored. Let’s do something fun.” There’s a glint in Miroku’s eye that generally means trouble, and Seishirou figures it will be best to humor the other.
He can’t help but roll his eyes a little as he asks, “Well, what do you have in mind?” Seishirou marks his place and leans back in his chair, gaze contemplative.
Miroku drops his pliers and pulls the lollipop stick out of his mouth, managing to make one of the more obscene noises Seishirou has heard lately. The chair scrapes as Miroku pushes himself away from his tinkering and saunters around the table, smirk playing around his lips as he advances.
“Oh, I’ve an idea or two,” Miroku mumbles as he salaciously gives Seishirou a once-over, eyes lingering meaningfully at the zipper of his pants.
Seishirou scoffs a little at Miroku’s one-track mind, leaning back a bit as the other boy closes the distance between them, kissing him with sugar-sticky lips. He opens his mouth, allowing Miroku to tangle their tongues together, the faint taste of cherry candy a pleasant surprise. As Miroku pulls back to nip at his jawline, Seishirou slides fingers into his hair in an attempt to guide Miroku, who manages to ignore the subtle instruction as he fumbles with the fastenings of Seishirou’s jacket and shirt.
Miroku’s lips and tongue slide along Seishirou’s neck and chest as his clothes are pulled open; Seishirou is perfectly fine with indulging Miroku. They have plenty of free time, after all.
There’s a tugging at the waistband of his trousers, and Seishirou opens his eyes, peering down at Miroku. He’s wearing an intense look of concentration, which Seishirou would normally find amusing, but as it is, he’s more interested in Miroku’s success against his zipper. Miroku finally unfastens the button and zip, and Seishirou is only too glad to help out by lifting his hips so his erection can be freed.
The first swipe of Miroku’s candy-stained tongue against his cock is heavenly, and it has Seishirou scrabbling fingers into Miroku’s hair in an attempt to pull him closer. Miroku anticipates the impatience, and holds his ground, which is quite a feat for someone on their knees.
Seishirou settles for running his fingers through the silky strands, letting Miroku continue at his own agonizingly slow pace. His patience must be paying off, because shortly Miroku begins to pick up the pace, taking Seishirou all the way to the back of his throat and swallowing, pulling back and sucking him so hard his cheeks hollow, driving Seishirou mad with all of the teasing.
Just as Seishirou is starting to get really into it, hips lightly thrusting up as Miroku swirls his tongue around his head and against the slit, all contact abruptly stops. A disappointed groan spills from Seishirou’s lips as he blinks. Miroku looks up, sneaky grin lighting his face up as he wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist.
“I’ve got an even better idea,” Miroku speaks languorously, like he doesn’t have an insistent erection tenting his trousers too. He does his best to right Seishirou’s clothes, then continues. “Let’s go back to my place, where it’s a little more private.”
Seishirou inclines his head in agreement. “One condition though: we’re using proper lube. I still find it hard to believe that you wanted to use axle grease as lubrication. And you wonder why Bidou would rather chase skirts.”
Miroku just laughs, easily agreeing to the condition. He tidies his half of the table while Seishirou puts himself back together as best he can and trying to calm himself down somewhat. It wouldn’t do to be spotted leaving the club room with an inappropriately timed erection.
The two of them leave the room, going their separate ways, Miroku speeding off on his bike as Seishirou directs his driver to drop him at the Shochikubai household. Miroku is already lounging on the couch in his garage; he has free run of the house as usual, so there are no worries about the two of them being interrupted.
Miroku has already started, hand down the front of his pants absently palming his erection. He pats the spot next to him on the couch, smirking at the eye-roll Seishirou can’t keep in check. Crossing the room, Seishirou unzips his jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt, casually pulling them off and placing them on the arm of the couch, well out of harm’s way. He stands in front of Miroku, waiting. Miroku pulls his hand off of his dick, slowly just to be contrary, and reaches for Seishirou’s fly.
Seishirou only pulls his pants and underwear down enough to expose his erection, then takes the offered seat. Miroku digs into the cushions and produces a wrinkled tube of lube, passing it to Seishirou with a grin. He stands, shrugging out of his clothes and climbing into Seishirou’s lap.
Seishirou coats his fingers, then skims them gently along Miroku’s balls, swirling around his rim before prodding. Miroku bites his lip at the intrusion, hips never ceasing in their rocking against Seishirou’s.
“More,” Miroku gasps, and Seishirou is obliged to add another finger. He presses them in and out, slowly speeding up as Miroku gets noisier and noisier, opening him up. Seishirou spreads his fingers wide, eliciting another gasp and presses a third finger in. Curling them forward, Seishirou presses against Miroku’s prostate, stunning Miroku into momentary stillness. “Again, Seishirou.”
Seishirou’s lips curl in amusement as he obeys, drinking in the noises falling from Miroku’s lips. Finally he can’t wait to move to the next round, pulling a whine from Miroku as he pulls his fingers out. “Get up,” he murmurs, taking the condom proffered by Miroku, opening it quickly and rolling it on. Slicking himself one last time, Seishirou grabs Miroku by the hips, turning him around and urging him onto his lap.
Carefully he lines himself up with Miroku, easing himself inside. Once Miroku is fully seated, Seishirou slowly begins thrusting, lightly holding the other boy by the hips. Soon Miroku is pushing back, meeting his thrusts as he clenches Seishirou’s knees. Seishirou plants his feet, thrusting even harder as MIroku begins to tighten around him. “Miroku, touch yourself,” Seishirou whispers against his back between sloppy kisses.
A high-pitched moan is Seishirou’s indication that his instructions are being followed. He speeds up, bouncing Miroku with each thrust and soon his orgasm is being pulled from him as Miroku’s washes over him, his body stiffening around Seishirou.
Flopping his head back against the couch, Seishirou sighs in contentment as he carefully pulls out. Miroku stretches as he eases himself up, conniving grin on his face. “Maybe we can do this again some other time.”
Hope you enjoy. :3
Leisurely Pursuits
Shochikubai Miroku/Kikumasamune Seishirou, Yuukan Club (or, Akanishi Jin/Yokoyama You)
R-- ehh, it’s pretty tame, I think
I'm pretty sure none of these things have ever happened, or ever will. Also I don't get paid for this
The Yuukan Club’s meeting room is comfortably warm, late afternoon sun spilling in as Seishirou pores over a voluminous tome. Miroku is sitting across from him, his half of the table scattered with bits of electronics as he thoughtfully tinkered, crunching down on the remains of a lollipop.
The thud of chair legs against the floor and a deep sigh prompt Seishirou to look up, eyebrows raised questioningly. “What?”
“I’m bored. Let’s do something fun.” There’s a glint in Miroku’s eye that generally means trouble, and Seishirou figures it will be best to humor the other.
He can’t help but roll his eyes a little as he asks, “Well, what do you have in mind?” Seishirou marks his place and leans back in his chair, gaze contemplative.
Miroku drops his pliers and pulls the lollipop stick out of his mouth, managing to make one of the more obscene noises Seishirou has heard lately. The chair scrapes as Miroku pushes himself away from his tinkering and saunters around the table, smirk playing around his lips as he advances.
“Oh, I’ve an idea or two,” Miroku mumbles as he salaciously gives Seishirou a once-over, eyes lingering meaningfully at the zipper of his pants.
Seishirou scoffs a little at Miroku’s one-track mind, leaning back a bit as the other boy closes the distance between them, kissing him with sugar-sticky lips. He opens his mouth, allowing Miroku to tangle their tongues together, the faint taste of cherry candy a pleasant surprise. As Miroku pulls back to nip at his jawline, Seishirou slides fingers into his hair in an attempt to guide Miroku, who manages to ignore the subtle instruction as he fumbles with the fastenings of Seishirou’s jacket and shirt.
Miroku’s lips and tongue slide along Seishirou’s neck and chest as his clothes are pulled open; Seishirou is perfectly fine with indulging Miroku. They have plenty of free time, after all.
There’s a tugging at the waistband of his trousers, and Seishirou opens his eyes, peering down at Miroku. He’s wearing an intense look of concentration, which Seishirou would normally find amusing, but as it is, he’s more interested in Miroku’s success against his zipper. Miroku finally unfastens the button and zip, and Seishirou is only too glad to help out by lifting his hips so his erection can be freed.
The first swipe of Miroku’s candy-stained tongue against his cock is heavenly, and it has Seishirou scrabbling fingers into Miroku’s hair in an attempt to pull him closer. Miroku anticipates the impatience, and holds his ground, which is quite a feat for someone on their knees.
Seishirou settles for running his fingers through the silky strands, letting Miroku continue at his own agonizingly slow pace. His patience must be paying off, because shortly Miroku begins to pick up the pace, taking Seishirou all the way to the back of his throat and swallowing, pulling back and sucking him so hard his cheeks hollow, driving Seishirou mad with all of the teasing.
Just as Seishirou is starting to get really into it, hips lightly thrusting up as Miroku swirls his tongue around his head and against the slit, all contact abruptly stops. A disappointed groan spills from Seishirou’s lips as he blinks. Miroku looks up, sneaky grin lighting his face up as he wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist.
“I’ve got an even better idea,” Miroku speaks languorously, like he doesn’t have an insistent erection tenting his trousers too. He does his best to right Seishirou’s clothes, then continues. “Let’s go back to my place, where it’s a little more private.”
Seishirou inclines his head in agreement. “One condition though: we’re using proper lube. I still find it hard to believe that you wanted to use axle grease as lubrication. And you wonder why Bidou would rather chase skirts.”
Miroku just laughs, easily agreeing to the condition. He tidies his half of the table while Seishirou puts himself back together as best he can and trying to calm himself down somewhat. It wouldn’t do to be spotted leaving the club room with an inappropriately timed erection.
The two of them leave the room, going their separate ways, Miroku speeding off on his bike as Seishirou directs his driver to drop him at the Shochikubai household. Miroku is already lounging on the couch in his garage; he has free run of the house as usual, so there are no worries about the two of them being interrupted.
Miroku has already started, hand down the front of his pants absently palming his erection. He pats the spot next to him on the couch, smirking at the eye-roll Seishirou can’t keep in check. Crossing the room, Seishirou unzips his jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt, casually pulling them off and placing them on the arm of the couch, well out of harm’s way. He stands in front of Miroku, waiting. Miroku pulls his hand off of his dick, slowly just to be contrary, and reaches for Seishirou’s fly.
Seishirou only pulls his pants and underwear down enough to expose his erection, then takes the offered seat. Miroku digs into the cushions and produces a wrinkled tube of lube, passing it to Seishirou with a grin. He stands, shrugging out of his clothes and climbing into Seishirou’s lap.
Seishirou coats his fingers, then skims them gently along Miroku’s balls, swirling around his rim before prodding. Miroku bites his lip at the intrusion, hips never ceasing in their rocking against Seishirou’s.
“More,” Miroku gasps, and Seishirou is obliged to add another finger. He presses them in and out, slowly speeding up as Miroku gets noisier and noisier, opening him up. Seishirou spreads his fingers wide, eliciting another gasp and presses a third finger in. Curling them forward, Seishirou presses against Miroku’s prostate, stunning Miroku into momentary stillness. “Again, Seishirou.”
Seishirou’s lips curl in amusement as he obeys, drinking in the noises falling from Miroku’s lips. Finally he can’t wait to move to the next round, pulling a whine from Miroku as he pulls his fingers out. “Get up,” he murmurs, taking the condom proffered by Miroku, opening it quickly and rolling it on. Slicking himself one last time, Seishirou grabs Miroku by the hips, turning him around and urging him onto his lap.
Carefully he lines himself up with Miroku, easing himself inside. Once Miroku is fully seated, Seishirou slowly begins thrusting, lightly holding the other boy by the hips. Soon Miroku is pushing back, meeting his thrusts as he clenches Seishirou’s knees. Seishirou plants his feet, thrusting even harder as MIroku begins to tighten around him. “Miroku, touch yourself,” Seishirou whispers against his back between sloppy kisses.
A high-pitched moan is Seishirou’s indication that his instructions are being followed. He speeds up, bouncing Miroku with each thrust and soon his orgasm is being pulled from him as Miroku’s washes over him, his body stiffening around Seishirou.
Flopping his head back against the couch, Seishirou sighs in contentment as he carefully pulls out. Miroku stretches as he eases himself up, conniving grin on his face. “Maybe we can do this again some other time.”