(no subject)
Title: Stuck in the Closet
Series: Hyoutei Pie, part 2 of ?. Part 1 here.
Rating: NC17
Characters: Hiyoshi, Ohtori, Shishido, vague mention of Silver Pair, Dirty Pair
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is Konomi-sensei's strange invention.
Author's note: I've decided to make this a series. God knows how long it will last. At any rate, there STILL isn't any sex.
Hiyoshi was on his knees in the closet, wrist-deep in pooled fabric.
He groaned, and then swore, body trying to find purchase in the sliding piles of shirts and pants.
The goddamned paper-thin button-down had to be in there somewhere.
He cursed Atobe and his decree that all regulars should have enormous walk-in closets. All it did was to invite the hoarding of messy heaps of stuff, and in Hiyoshi's case the messy heap was now a few years' deep without any kind of order to it (except for his neatly hanging uniforms, of course, which Ohtori was kind enough to launder and hang up for him). Hiyoshi's mom wasn't there to take care of Hiyoshi's stuff, and that rich bastard Atobe had a maid while Hiyoshi did not.
Clothes flew out of the closet door.
...Which meant that the slightly skimpy shirt that his hip young cousin had given him a few years ago was in there somewhere, and goddamn it, Hiyoshi wanted to find it. The regulars' Hanami was coming up, and as hard as it was for Hiyoshi to admit it to himself, he kind of wanted to look, you know. Hot. Not sexless, like Oshitari had said.
Oshitari's comment still rankled. As did Mukahi's revenge, a day later, which was to send Hiyoshi email that automatically opened a webpage with a loud embedded midi. "I READ YAOI MANGA," Hiyoshi's laptop bellowed in the middle of the nearly quiet library. Yes, all of the studying regulars had laughed their asses off at him (except for Ohtori), and yes, the incident had made him huddle in his room for days.
But it was time to emerge. It was Spring, after all.
And Hiyoshi strongly suspected that everybody was having sex (except for Hiyoshi), and reading the doujinshi hadn't slaked Hiyoshi's thirst. Quite to the contrary, it seemed to feed the flame of his less than savory thoughts. He'd found himself staring at Kantoku in a speculative way during practice one day, and that had given Hiyoshi a haunted, sleepless night. The thought of rimming still made Hiyoshi's gag reflex kick in, but...fine...getting rimmed was another story entirely. And so his mind kept filling with thoughts of Kantoku, firm and angry and commanding, ripping Hiyoshi's pants off and pushing him face-forward over the desk to inflict him with...with...with a tongue-lashing, in all senses of the word...
Hiyoshi shifted his hips, feeling his cock harden up at the memory, guilt suffusing his face with red.
In fact, Hiyoshi pondered, sitting back on his heels and looking around the dark piles of clothes in fruitless discouragement, it was vastly unfair that his teammates were all apparently getting it on and he was not. Hiyoshi was probably the last virgin at Hyoutei, and the thought made him feel a sense of despair. Was something wrong with him, other than his natural fear of unnatural sex? And could he find someone to play with who'd be willing to bend over for Hiyoshi, but keep his dick away from Hiyoshi's bottom? Hiyoshi shuddered at the thought of anything up there.
Hiyoshi had tried it. Just a few days ago. Poured a thick layer of hand cream over his fingers, tilted his hips up, and attempted to stick his finger inside of his asshole. He'd made sure to scrub his butt extra-clean first, and hoped that he wouldn't feel anything, you know, gross.
But Hiyoshi didn't get very far. First off, it was really difficult to work his finger in with his body all tense and tight and closed. Second, when he did get something up there, it literally burned, as though his body was telling him plainly that normally things went out of his ass, not into it. And so, a tear coursing down his cheek at the discomfort, he pulled his finger out and swore off the idea of gay sex forever.
But then Hiyoshi's reverie was broken by sound. It was his roommate, entering their dorm room. Hiyoshi was about to crawl back out of the closet and demand that Ohtori help him find his shirt when he heard the feet pause, right over by Hiyoshi's bed.
Oh shit, Hiyoshi thought to himself. He'd spent all morning reading and re-reading certain scenes from a certain doujinshi, and he'd left it with the spine bent open to a certain part.
Hiyoshi got to his feet swiftly to stop Ohtori -- but then he heard the bed creak.
Ah...goddamnit. Hiyoshi definitely couldn't come out of the closet now. Ohtori was reading the one with the main character that reminded Hiyoshi of, well, Ohtori.
Face flaming, Hiyoshi sank to the floor to wait quietly until Ohtori left.
*
Now, where was the grip tape again? Ohtori's eyes did a swift scan of the room. Hiyoshi had probably borrowed it; he was always making free with Ohtori's things, including (Ohtori noticed) his dirty t-shirts. They were always returned freshly washed, so Ohtori turned a blind eye to Hiyoshi's strange laundry predilections, figuring that perhaps he'd run out of tshirts of his own and was too polite to ask Ohtori for a clean one.
Ohtori noticed the manga lying face down on Hiyoshi's bed. He was a good boy and knew not to give other people's things a second glance. But as his eye passed over Hiyoshi's (eternally unmade, Ohtori sighed) bed, something about the cover made him pause.
There was a tall guy with light-colored hair standing behind a shorter guy with a baseball cap. They were each holding a ping-pong paddle as they stared out of the cover, challenging grins on their faces. But it wasn't that that made Ohtori pause. It was the fact that the taller guy was ever so slightly behind the shorter guy -- and where was his hand?
Ohtori stepped closer to the doujinshi, leaning over to stare. So there was a racket in one hand. The other hand was...
Ohtori gasped. He could see fingers emerging from the side of the shorter guy's hip. The taller boy was molesting the shorter boy's bottom! What was more, the shorter boy didn't seem to mind at all...
Ohtori sat down on Hiyoshi's messy bed. Lord of the Rackets: Double Dreaming was the title. He raised his eyebrows. What was this all about?
Hm. A ping pong team at a high school much like Hyoutei. And...hm, gay romances between two sets of doubles partners.
Ohtori was swiftly absorbed in the plotline. He didn't much like the first set of doubles partners. The guy with glasses was kind of slimy, and the shorter, effeminate looking one was extremely rude. But the other pair...Ohtori quickly lost his heart to the determined, scrappy, hard-battling guy who wouldn't even let his losses keep him from doing his best for the team.
He read on and on, following the story of the partners, up until...oh dear.
Ohtori balked. It looked like something naughty was developing between the tall guy and the scrappy one. He sighed and put the book down. Not his kind of reading material after all. He got up and continued to look for his grip tape, pushing away thoughts of how the smaller man looked, on his knees, gazing up so appealingly from where his mouth was about to fasten around the taller guy's...
...Ohtori turned right back around, sat down on the bed, and picked up the manga.
*
Shishido knocked. Nobody answered. That was odd. He knocked again.
"Hey, morons," Shishido called in, "I see the light streaming out from under the door, and it's past curfew for you guys. So open up already!"
After what seemed like a long pause, Ohtori opened the door a crack. His face was flushed and he seemed strangely...guilty looking?
"Uh, I'm not...interrupting anything, am I?" Shishido said, stepping back with alarm. "Were you and Piyo -- er -- no, couldn't be, Hiyoshi would never do... Forget I said anything --"
But then Ohtori had Shishido by the arm, pulling Shishido through the room to Hiyoshi's bed, all the while blathering about something in a swift, embarrassed voice.
"I was looking for my grip tape and I didn't mean to read Wakashi's manga, honest, Shishido-senpai. But...it was open, and I saw the cover, and suddenly...I..." Ohtori hung his head and pointed at the doujinshi.
Shishido blinked again and scanned the title. Oh, that one. He scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. He'd borrowed it from Oshitari a few months ago, partly because one of the characters reminded Shishido of, well, Ohtori.
"Oh. Huh. Er, it's okay to read that, Choutaroh. Just, uh. Not in public, okay?" But that didn't seem to make Ohtori feel any better. Shishido frowned. Ohtori's eyes were...all large and beseeching and limpid-looking.
"What?"
"Senpai," Ohtori said, voice all husky. "It made me feel kind of strange."
Shishido glanced at Ohtori warily. "What do you mean, strange? Are you trying to tell me you don't like gay sex? Because that's okay too, I guess..." Shishido was lying. It was not okay for Ohtori to dislike gay sex, because, well, it would severely cramp a few of Shishido's future plans to have to get Ohtori over that kind of complex.
"Sit down here, senpai, and I'll show you..." Ohtori said, politely scooting aside to give Shishido room on Hiyoshi's bed.
Shishido nodded and sat down, staring at the pages open in Ohtori's hand.
The smaller guy's eyes were closed, his mouth tight around the larger guy's balls, hand around his own cock, stroking it tightly. The larger guy was staring down with wide, shocked eyes, mouth hanging open and a line of drool running down his chin, huge cock dripping from the tip with wetness.
"And what's wrong with this? It's just sex, Choutaroh," Shishido said shortly, coloring up. That was one of his favorite parts.
Ohtori gulped, cheeks flaming. Shishido could tell that Ohtori was having trouble getting the words out. And then Shishido's eyes widened.
"Oh! Oh..." Shishido breathed, surreptitiously staring down Ohtori's body to the growing lump in Ohtori's crotch. "You're trying to tell me you really like it."
The book hit the floor as Ohtori hid his face in his hands.
"Oh, Choutaroh..." Shishido moved, smile widening, heart filling. Ohtori was admitting this, to him, because Ohtori clearly wanted Shishido to lean over and touch his soft silver hair and tilt his head down and...
"Pardon me," Hiyoshi's voice cut in dryly. He stood in front of them, arms crossed over his chest, face fixed in a sullen smirk. "Are you two done with my bed yet?"
"No, senpai, don't --"
But it was too late.
Within seconds Hiyoshi was being pinned to the floor by a pissed-off Shishido, whose hard fist was rising to noogie that dorky shroom haircut.
It took Ohtori a few minutes of hard work to pull them apart.
*
Ohtori sat between them at breakfast the next day, his silent disappointment in their behavior lying over their shoulders like a soggy blanket. Hiyoshi and Shishido both had sheepish expressions on their faces.
Oshitari walked by, holding a tray laden with sweet pastries. He glanced at them, did a double take, and then broke out with his broad Kansai grin. "Now, what the hell happened to you three?" He drawled, and set the tray down.
"Hey, Yuushi, get over here with my..." But then Mukahi saw the situation and walked over, smirking. He leaned over one of Oshitari's shoulders as if to proclaim to the whole room that Mukahi, at least, was getting a daily hot meat injection.
"Piyo-chan," Oshitari said, "Gakuto said that if you want, we can help you out."
Hiyoshi looked up, cocking his head and scowling. "That. Has got to be the most perverted idea that I've ever heard. What makes you think that I want to be part of your gross gay sex with Mukahi-senpai?"
Mukahi reached over the table and gripped Hiyoshi firmly by the ear. "Who says we want you to be part of it, you hentai dork?"
Hiyoshi blinked and squirmed.
"Just come by my room later tonight," Mukahi muttered. "You might learn something."
"That's okay, senpai," Ohtori's voice, firm and polite. "Hiyoshi and I have homework."
"Actually," Hiyoshi cut in, "I'd be glad to, Mukahi-senpai." Perhaps Mukahi could finally give Hiyoshi some kind of resolution to his little horniness problem.
Ohtori looked surprised and put out, which in turn made Shishido glare daggers at Hiyoshi.
While Oshitari and Mukahi sat like a pair of mocking birds and laughed their asses off.
Hiyoshi sighed. Being a teenager really, vastly sucked.
[ To be continued! ]
Series: Hyoutei Pie, part 2 of ?. Part 1 here.
Rating: NC17
Characters: Hiyoshi, Ohtori, Shishido, vague mention of Silver Pair, Dirty Pair
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is Konomi-sensei's strange invention.
Author's note: I've decided to make this a series. God knows how long it will last. At any rate, there STILL isn't any sex.
Hiyoshi was on his knees in the closet, wrist-deep in pooled fabric.
He groaned, and then swore, body trying to find purchase in the sliding piles of shirts and pants.
The goddamned paper-thin button-down had to be in there somewhere.
He cursed Atobe and his decree that all regulars should have enormous walk-in closets. All it did was to invite the hoarding of messy heaps of stuff, and in Hiyoshi's case the messy heap was now a few years' deep without any kind of order to it (except for his neatly hanging uniforms, of course, which Ohtori was kind enough to launder and hang up for him). Hiyoshi's mom wasn't there to take care of Hiyoshi's stuff, and that rich bastard Atobe had a maid while Hiyoshi did not.
Clothes flew out of the closet door.
...Which meant that the slightly skimpy shirt that his hip young cousin had given him a few years ago was in there somewhere, and goddamn it, Hiyoshi wanted to find it. The regulars' Hanami was coming up, and as hard as it was for Hiyoshi to admit it to himself, he kind of wanted to look, you know. Hot. Not sexless, like Oshitari had said.
Oshitari's comment still rankled. As did Mukahi's revenge, a day later, which was to send Hiyoshi email that automatically opened a webpage with a loud embedded midi. "I READ YAOI MANGA," Hiyoshi's laptop bellowed in the middle of the nearly quiet library. Yes, all of the studying regulars had laughed their asses off at him (except for Ohtori), and yes, the incident had made him huddle in his room for days.
But it was time to emerge. It was Spring, after all.
And Hiyoshi strongly suspected that everybody was having sex (except for Hiyoshi), and reading the doujinshi hadn't slaked Hiyoshi's thirst. Quite to the contrary, it seemed to feed the flame of his less than savory thoughts. He'd found himself staring at Kantoku in a speculative way during practice one day, and that had given Hiyoshi a haunted, sleepless night. The thought of rimming still made Hiyoshi's gag reflex kick in, but...fine...getting rimmed was another story entirely. And so his mind kept filling with thoughts of Kantoku, firm and angry and commanding, ripping Hiyoshi's pants off and pushing him face-forward over the desk to inflict him with...with...with a tongue-lashing, in all senses of the word...
Hiyoshi shifted his hips, feeling his cock harden up at the memory, guilt suffusing his face with red.
In fact, Hiyoshi pondered, sitting back on his heels and looking around the dark piles of clothes in fruitless discouragement, it was vastly unfair that his teammates were all apparently getting it on and he was not. Hiyoshi was probably the last virgin at Hyoutei, and the thought made him feel a sense of despair. Was something wrong with him, other than his natural fear of unnatural sex? And could he find someone to play with who'd be willing to bend over for Hiyoshi, but keep his dick away from Hiyoshi's bottom? Hiyoshi shuddered at the thought of anything up there.
Hiyoshi had tried it. Just a few days ago. Poured a thick layer of hand cream over his fingers, tilted his hips up, and attempted to stick his finger inside of his asshole. He'd made sure to scrub his butt extra-clean first, and hoped that he wouldn't feel anything, you know, gross.
But Hiyoshi didn't get very far. First off, it was really difficult to work his finger in with his body all tense and tight and closed. Second, when he did get something up there, it literally burned, as though his body was telling him plainly that normally things went out of his ass, not into it. And so, a tear coursing down his cheek at the discomfort, he pulled his finger out and swore off the idea of gay sex forever.
But then Hiyoshi's reverie was broken by sound. It was his roommate, entering their dorm room. Hiyoshi was about to crawl back out of the closet and demand that Ohtori help him find his shirt when he heard the feet pause, right over by Hiyoshi's bed.
Oh shit, Hiyoshi thought to himself. He'd spent all morning reading and re-reading certain scenes from a certain doujinshi, and he'd left it with the spine bent open to a certain part.
Hiyoshi got to his feet swiftly to stop Ohtori -- but then he heard the bed creak.
Ah...goddamnit. Hiyoshi definitely couldn't come out of the closet now. Ohtori was reading the one with the main character that reminded Hiyoshi of, well, Ohtori.
Face flaming, Hiyoshi sank to the floor to wait quietly until Ohtori left.
*
Now, where was the grip tape again? Ohtori's eyes did a swift scan of the room. Hiyoshi had probably borrowed it; he was always making free with Ohtori's things, including (Ohtori noticed) his dirty t-shirts. They were always returned freshly washed, so Ohtori turned a blind eye to Hiyoshi's strange laundry predilections, figuring that perhaps he'd run out of tshirts of his own and was too polite to ask Ohtori for a clean one.
Ohtori noticed the manga lying face down on Hiyoshi's bed. He was a good boy and knew not to give other people's things a second glance. But as his eye passed over Hiyoshi's (eternally unmade, Ohtori sighed) bed, something about the cover made him pause.
There was a tall guy with light-colored hair standing behind a shorter guy with a baseball cap. They were each holding a ping-pong paddle as they stared out of the cover, challenging grins on their faces. But it wasn't that that made Ohtori pause. It was the fact that the taller guy was ever so slightly behind the shorter guy -- and where was his hand?
Ohtori stepped closer to the doujinshi, leaning over to stare. So there was a racket in one hand. The other hand was...
Ohtori gasped. He could see fingers emerging from the side of the shorter guy's hip. The taller boy was molesting the shorter boy's bottom! What was more, the shorter boy didn't seem to mind at all...
Ohtori sat down on Hiyoshi's messy bed. Lord of the Rackets: Double Dreaming was the title. He raised his eyebrows. What was this all about?
Hm. A ping pong team at a high school much like Hyoutei. And...hm, gay romances between two sets of doubles partners.
Ohtori was swiftly absorbed in the plotline. He didn't much like the first set of doubles partners. The guy with glasses was kind of slimy, and the shorter, effeminate looking one was extremely rude. But the other pair...Ohtori quickly lost his heart to the determined, scrappy, hard-battling guy who wouldn't even let his losses keep him from doing his best for the team.
He read on and on, following the story of the partners, up until...oh dear.
Ohtori balked. It looked like something naughty was developing between the tall guy and the scrappy one. He sighed and put the book down. Not his kind of reading material after all. He got up and continued to look for his grip tape, pushing away thoughts of how the smaller man looked, on his knees, gazing up so appealingly from where his mouth was about to fasten around the taller guy's...
...Ohtori turned right back around, sat down on the bed, and picked up the manga.
*
Shishido knocked. Nobody answered. That was odd. He knocked again.
"Hey, morons," Shishido called in, "I see the light streaming out from under the door, and it's past curfew for you guys. So open up already!"
After what seemed like a long pause, Ohtori opened the door a crack. His face was flushed and he seemed strangely...guilty looking?
"Uh, I'm not...interrupting anything, am I?" Shishido said, stepping back with alarm. "Were you and Piyo -- er -- no, couldn't be, Hiyoshi would never do... Forget I said anything --"
But then Ohtori had Shishido by the arm, pulling Shishido through the room to Hiyoshi's bed, all the while blathering about something in a swift, embarrassed voice.
"I was looking for my grip tape and I didn't mean to read Wakashi's manga, honest, Shishido-senpai. But...it was open, and I saw the cover, and suddenly...I..." Ohtori hung his head and pointed at the doujinshi.
Shishido blinked again and scanned the title. Oh, that one. He scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. He'd borrowed it from Oshitari a few months ago, partly because one of the characters reminded Shishido of, well, Ohtori.
"Oh. Huh. Er, it's okay to read that, Choutaroh. Just, uh. Not in public, okay?" But that didn't seem to make Ohtori feel any better. Shishido frowned. Ohtori's eyes were...all large and beseeching and limpid-looking.
"What?"
"Senpai," Ohtori said, voice all husky. "It made me feel kind of strange."
Shishido glanced at Ohtori warily. "What do you mean, strange? Are you trying to tell me you don't like gay sex? Because that's okay too, I guess..." Shishido was lying. It was not okay for Ohtori to dislike gay sex, because, well, it would severely cramp a few of Shishido's future plans to have to get Ohtori over that kind of complex.
"Sit down here, senpai, and I'll show you..." Ohtori said, politely scooting aside to give Shishido room on Hiyoshi's bed.
Shishido nodded and sat down, staring at the pages open in Ohtori's hand.
The smaller guy's eyes were closed, his mouth tight around the larger guy's balls, hand around his own cock, stroking it tightly. The larger guy was staring down with wide, shocked eyes, mouth hanging open and a line of drool running down his chin, huge cock dripping from the tip with wetness.
"And what's wrong with this? It's just sex, Choutaroh," Shishido said shortly, coloring up. That was one of his favorite parts.
Ohtori gulped, cheeks flaming. Shishido could tell that Ohtori was having trouble getting the words out. And then Shishido's eyes widened.
"Oh! Oh..." Shishido breathed, surreptitiously staring down Ohtori's body to the growing lump in Ohtori's crotch. "You're trying to tell me you really like it."
The book hit the floor as Ohtori hid his face in his hands.
"Oh, Choutaroh..." Shishido moved, smile widening, heart filling. Ohtori was admitting this, to him, because Ohtori clearly wanted Shishido to lean over and touch his soft silver hair and tilt his head down and...
"Pardon me," Hiyoshi's voice cut in dryly. He stood in front of them, arms crossed over his chest, face fixed in a sullen smirk. "Are you two done with my bed yet?"
"No, senpai, don't --"
But it was too late.
Within seconds Hiyoshi was being pinned to the floor by a pissed-off Shishido, whose hard fist was rising to noogie that dorky shroom haircut.
It took Ohtori a few minutes of hard work to pull them apart.
*
Ohtori sat between them at breakfast the next day, his silent disappointment in their behavior lying over their shoulders like a soggy blanket. Hiyoshi and Shishido both had sheepish expressions on their faces.
Oshitari walked by, holding a tray laden with sweet pastries. He glanced at them, did a double take, and then broke out with his broad Kansai grin. "Now, what the hell happened to you three?" He drawled, and set the tray down.
"Hey, Yuushi, get over here with my..." But then Mukahi saw the situation and walked over, smirking. He leaned over one of Oshitari's shoulders as if to proclaim to the whole room that Mukahi, at least, was getting a daily hot meat injection.
"Piyo-chan," Oshitari said, "Gakuto said that if you want, we can help you out."
Hiyoshi looked up, cocking his head and scowling. "That. Has got to be the most perverted idea that I've ever heard. What makes you think that I want to be part of your gross gay sex with Mukahi-senpai?"
Mukahi reached over the table and gripped Hiyoshi firmly by the ear. "Who says we want you to be part of it, you hentai dork?"
Hiyoshi blinked and squirmed.
"Just come by my room later tonight," Mukahi muttered. "You might learn something."
"That's okay, senpai," Ohtori's voice, firm and polite. "Hiyoshi and I have homework."
"Actually," Hiyoshi cut in, "I'd be glad to, Mukahi-senpai." Perhaps Mukahi could finally give Hiyoshi some kind of resolution to his little horniness problem.
Ohtori looked surprised and put out, which in turn made Shishido glare daggers at Hiyoshi.
While Oshitari and Mukahi sat like a pair of mocking birds and laughed their asses off.
Hiyoshi sighed. Being a teenager really, vastly sucked.
[ To be continued! ]