Another RP go! This one is Kirihara and Kamio, and is one of my personal favorites. How I talked Kirby into writing this, I will never know.
Title suggested by Kirby, because she loves Davide and wanted a pun title. |D Once again, everything in bold is Kirby's doing and not mine. XD
Thump. Tak. Thump. Kirihara met the returning ball with a vicious forehand. It bounced off the wall, hit the ground, and ran into his backhand. Out of the corner of jade eyes, there was a flash of maroon hair. The ball bounced off the wall, hit the ground, and landed in the palm of his hand. Kirihara turned to face Fudomine's speed demon.
Kamio looked at the boy with the scowl he reserved only for him, definitely still holding a grudge against Kirihara's actions in the past month or so. "Why don't you go play someone on your own team?" he asked quietly, throwing the ball down and catching it when it bounced up.
"Why don't you?" Kirihara shot back, resting the racket frame on his shoulder.
Kamio pulled a racket from his duffle bag and served, grazing the ends of the Rikkaidai player's tangled hair. "My captain said I needed to practice my serves, and that's all I came for."
Kirihara seemed undisturbed by the ball that had come within three inches of hitting him. "Captain this, captain that, why don't you just marry the guy if you're so loyal to him?" He shook his head pityingly.
The boy narrowed his eyes furiously. "You have a lot of nerve after putting him in the hospital yourself! I oughta pulverize you right now since no one's holding me back!" He took a few steps over, racket clenched tightly in his fist, fire apparent in his expression.
"Bring it," he growled, tightening his grip on his own racket. "I've gone through worse." He licked his lips in that Kirihara style, eyes challenging.
The redhead accepted his challenge, emitting a furious roar and swinging his racket violently into Kirihara's arm. He could care less at that minute if his racket broke or he missed or not. The next thing that happened, Kirihara was pinned to the clay and Kamio was letting his fists fly into the boy's face. "I'm going to make you pay for what you did!"
The racket was dodged easily, but how he ended up flat on his back was a mystery. No more time to contemplate—a fist smashed into his face and now his nose was bleeding. Kirihara snarled and twisted aside from the next punch, hearing Kamio's knuckles slam into the hard ground. Taking advantage of the boy's obvious pain, he got his feet under Kamio's stomach and threw him off, leaping after him and holding him to the ground. He balled his hand and sank it into Kamio's gut.
Kamio yelped hoarsely when he felt the withdrawal from his hand and the pounding on his organs. With the hand that was free, he tried to throw another mach punch. He only got more agitated when the blood from the other's face dripped on his cheek.
The blow grazed the raven-hair's cheek and he responded by hitting him in the eye. Kirihara swiped the blood from his own lip with his tongue, smirking. He liked provoking Kamio into fighting him, the boy reacted so well. He could feel the prickling in his eyeballs, which meant they would turn red soon. He tilted his head. "Should we settle this on the court, Akira?" he asked teasingly.
Kamio, however, was not in the mood. He brought his knee up hard when the boy let his guard down. "Don't you DARE call me by my first name, asshole! You have no right!"
Kirihara saw stars and had to strongly resist the incredibly powerful urge to howl. He settled for gritting his teeth until his vision settled, and then he saw that he was on his back again with Kamio standing over him. He looked the angriest Kirihara had ever seen him.
He had his fist reared back for the final blow. "Tachibana might have forgiven you... Fuji might have forgiven you... but I am NEVER going to forgive you. I want you to remember that," he hissed viciously, starting to bring his fist down.
Kirihara batted it aside and let his own fist find the boy's sternum, the punch just hard enough to knock the air from his lungs but not hard enough to break his chest. He shook the residual pain from his head and glared up at Kamio defiantly. "I don't give a damn whether you forgive me or not, Akira," he growled.
Kamio choked and rolled off to catch his breath. "Don't—call—me—that!" He lunged again, unaware of the manager arriving at the scene.
"HEY! BREAK IT UP, YOU TWO!" the man hollered, doing his best to separate the two bloodthirsty teenagers. "Break it up, or I'm calling the police on you! Now get off my courts and go home!"
Kirihara hissed in supreme distaste, though he complied simply because he would rather not be banned from the nationals. Thank god he hadn't been wearing his Rikkaidai uniform... He watched Kamio struggle to catch his breath for a few minutes before walking off and leaving him gasping and unable to move.
Kamio glared up at the manager, then at the body walking away. "Coward!" he yelled when he could breathe somewhat normally again. When he finally managed to get to his feet, he took his bag and followed after the boy so as not to piss the manager off any further.
When he had managed to catch up, panting quickly, he kept his eye on the other. Any minute, he could start fighting again—though the chances were slimmer now that they were in populated areas. What made him mad the most was that they had to go the same route to each other's house. On top of all that, he knew for SURE his parents were going to freak when they saw the blood on his cheek and any other bruises he might have accumulated on the visible surface.
Of course, Kirihara knew why Kamio was following him—but it deserved some teasing. "Stalker," he muttered under his breath. "And I'm not a coward, just rational."
"Rational? YOU? Give me a break!" Kamio snapped, trying to walk faster. "If you were rational, you would have quit when you saw Tachibana struggling!" A sudden thought occurred to him, to keep his parents from going berserk—but he immediately shook it off. No way in hell was that happening.
"Clearly, you don't know what the law at Rikkaidai is," Kirihara said. His voice was quiet, but forceful and passionate all the same. "Do ANYTHING to win. Sanada or Yukimura would have done the same in my place. Although they probably wouldn't have needed to." They were very close to their houses by now.
"You should be concerned with having fun with the game itself!" Kamio realized just how stupid that sounded when he said it. Quoting Tachibana with "having fun" and "taking care of its members first" was not a good idea. His face became a flustered red. The rest of the words came out in a blur. "Just let me take a shower at your place before my parents have a heart attack, okay?"
Kirihara had been on the verge of taking another crack at Kamio's captain before the last sentence paralyzed him. He had to turn the line over in his head around nine times before he finally said, "Come again? I'm sure you didn't just ask me if you could bathe at my house."
"Look, forget it, okay? Forget I said anything." He touched the gate to his fence hesitantly. Maybe being scolded would be better than getting anywhere NEAR that demon's house. Then again... he shook his head. "Just give me five minutes, okay? Then you'll never have to hear from me again and I'll hopefully never have to hear from you again either."
"Are your parents that bad?" Kirihara cocked an eyebrow skeptically. "Fine." He walked on to his own house. "Just do what you came to do and get out when you're finished. Surely you can do that much." Oh, this would be fun. Kamio would be in for no end of ribbing.
"Shut up, I'll be wanting out of your house as soon as I step in. I don't get 'distracted' like you probably do," he scoffed, following after the boy and feeling just the tiniest bit grateful.
Kirihara blinked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, getting 'distracted'?" He let a sneaky smile turn the corners of his mouth up.
"You know, finding crap to mess with or break. I wouldn't put it past you if you were in my house," he said, entering through the door first. Nobody seemed to be home—that was a good sign. He found his way to the bathroom, shut the door, and started stripping himself naked. His chest had a nice blue mark on it, as did his stomach, the knuckles of his left hand, and his right eye. He glowered at his careless mistakes, turning the water on.
Kirihara sat on his bed, wincing at the throbbing of his own wounds. He was sticky, and that combined with the pain made him antsy to get into the water. Making up his mind (besides, it would be a great way to torment Kamio some more), Kirihara pulled off his own clothes and stepped into the shower with him, careful not to touch or look at him.
Kamio. Freaked. OUT. He clung to the opposite wall with an involuntary twitch when he saw Kirihara stepping in. "JESUS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"
"This is my house, isn't it?" he answered without turning around, proceeding to lather his hair.
"It wouldn't kill you to wait a few minutes!" he spazzed breathlessly.
Kirihara twisted at the back and locked his eyes onto Kamio's face, very careful not to look down. As much of a demon as he was, he still did hold morals in that respect. The redhead was flustered, his face flaming, and he was shaking badly. He looked, all in all, utterly adorable, and Kirihara chortled sadistically inside. "It would drive me insane, and trust me, you don't want that. Besides, this is my house, and I can very easily boot you out of it while you're still stark naked."
He squinted his eyes. "You wouldn't dare," he growled, covering himself quickly when Kirihara turned to face him. He could feel his face burning for some reason—for more than just aggravation. He had shared the same shower with his team several times, but he almost felt embarrassed to be so close and so naked to this stranger.
"Try me." Kirihara smirked, turning back around and finishing with washing his hair. The bodily pain was lessening now, thank the gods for hot water.
Kamio was severely tempted to lunge and try to beat the other up again, but the situation would be too awkward. He hesitantly resumed lathering his hair too, keeping his eye on the boy for anything suspicious. He found himself noticing the small details on Kirihara's back and forced himself to snap out of it. He rinsed his hair and reached cautiously around Kirihara for the soap.
The raven-hair let the hand pass without physical contact, though he did manage a wolf-whistle through a giant grin. Oh, this was just too good.
Kamio withdrew quickly when he found the soap and stepped back. God, he hated him. "Give me a break," he muttered irritably.
"Meaning?" Kirihara pressed, glancing over his shoulder to watch the boy, though he still refused to look lower than mid-chest.
"You're not funny," he said quickly, noticing that suggestive eye looking at him again. He hesitated before scrubbing his body lightly, minding the bruises. His eye was hurting more now, but again, he paid that no mind.
The demon's eye tracked the motion of Kamio's hand, flowing over those curves. He turned back after a while, suddenly having to control ragged breathing and hoping the other wouldn't notice.
"What were you staring at?" he asked, cringing when he bent down to get his legs. Damn, he was going to be sore at practice tomorrow. At least when he came home, he could say a tennis ball pegged him in the eye.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kirihara asked with the barest hint of tremble in his voice. He immediately wanted to kick himself. He answered the question in his mind—he had been staring at the boy's chest, the sharp muscle barely outlined there. He had figured out a long time ago that he loved the taste of blood and wanted to taste Kamio's, having grown sick of the flavor of his own.
"You were looking at me! What the hell do you think I mean?" He tossed the soap on the shelf past Kirihara and let the hot water melt the soapy suds from his scrawny body.
Kirihara narrowly missed being brained by the flying soap, but he had to admire Kamio's accuracy. "To be fair, I didn't look THAT low," he grumbled. He watched Kamio tilt his head back and close his eyes to the rush of warm water. That body gleamed in the liquid and Kirihara felt his throat tighten, quickly looking away when Kamio finished and moving into the heat himself. Perhaps once the boy was gone he would need to take a COLD shower...
Kamio still felt red. He furrowed his brows, slid the shower door open, and looked for a towel. Maybe he could go and stay at Shinji's for the night, he thought, unable to even find a washcloth. Did that bastard do it on purpose? He flinched and sifted through Kirihara's clothes to find his.
Kirihara stepped out of the shower a moment later and pulled open a drawer, throwing a towel at the redhead and taking one for himself. He was rewarded with a shirt in the face a moment later. "Gee, thank you," he muttered sarcastically as he dried his chest and pulled the clothing on.
Kamio glowered, pulling the towel off his face. He pulled his boxers on, first and foremost, and then dried his hair off so he wouldn't have to worry about the Rikkaidai player looking him over again. He toweled the rest of his body off, then grabbed his cell phone from his pants pocket and dialed a number. "Shinji? Yeah, it's me. Let me come over for the night," he said, softly enough so that he wouldn't echo in the bathroom.
What followed was a long conversation filled with Kamio raising his voice in ire, and it eventually ended with a vigorous snap-shut of the phone and much grumbling. Curious, Kirihara couldn't help but ask, "You have your own house, don't you? Sleep there."
Kamio shot him a menacing look. "Shut up! I really don't want to, okay?" He irritably shoved the phone back in his pocket and pulled his pants on. Damn it, Shinji, why did you have to abandon me the one time I needed you? Reluctantly, face looking down at the wet tile, he asked one more question. "Look, will you give me just one more favor?"
"What?" Kirihara asked guardedly, utterly confused. What was at home that Kamio was fearing so much?
"Will you let me stay just one night?" He almost choked on the words. "I'll sleep in the living room, gone before you even wake up tomorrow."
Kirihara blinked until his eyes hurt from the motion. "...Wouldn't someone on your team take you in for the night? Why me?" While he had entertained the thought, he wasn't sure he could handle a night of them both alone.
"I'm not really that close with my other teammates and I'm already here and I don't know where they live and crap..." he said with another flustered blush. Damn, he really WAS out of touch with the rest of Fudomine. And it wasn't like Kirihara had any plans, with the house empty and not prepared for anything.
Kirihara sighed and rubbed his temples. "Okay, okay, fine. This is the only time, I swear to god." He pulled his underwear on and fished out a pair of pajamas from a drawer, putting them on. "There's only one kink in your plans," he mused. "There IS no place for you to sleep in the living room, if you haven't already noticed."
"What are you talking about? Isn't there a couch or something?" he stood up and pulled his shirt on. Accidentally, he had caught a glimpse of Kirihara's lower torso and unintentionally noticed something that turned his face as red as his wet hair.
"Nope." He caught Kamio's blush and the way he was staring at his waist. His eye twitched and he asked guardedly, "What are you staring at me like that for?" He was fighting back a blush himself, he figured he knew the answer.
"I wasn't staring at anything!" He turned his head quickly. "Where can I sleep if you don't have normal furniture lying around?"
He was hesitant with his answer, but he eventually murmured, "There's really nothing else but MY bed. Unless you'd prefer the floor."
"S-seriously? No guest beds, no chairs or anything? Are you guys poor or something?" Kamio swallowed. Kirihara HAD to be exaggerating somewhat. Either that... or that arousal wasn't just there for decoration. His face turned brighter red and apparently more aggravated.
Kirihara snorted. "Who would sleep on a chair? Anyway, no. My parents aren't home most of the time—when they DO bother to come home, they bring sleeping bags or something—and we don't have guests over. Like, ever. So seriously, my room is the only comfortable room in the house. Take a look around if you don't believe me."
Kamio blinked in sheer, disbelieving surprise. No wonder this kid is so messed up, he never gets to see his parents... He exited the bathroom, observed the few furniture pieces, and was speechless. Holy cow... Feeling a little sorry for him, he picked up his duffle bag and followed Kirihara to his room. How did he even take care of himself? he wondered.
"Told you." Kirihara leapt into bed and yawned widely. He fixed his eyes on Kamio, somewhat inviting him to get in beside him.
Kamio froze up when he met Kirihara's eyes. He coughed, set his bag down, and noted the time. The evening had flown fast indeed. He looked for any other alternative than the bed, but found it hopeless and hesitantly crawled into it, staying as close to the edge as he could with his eyes watching Kirihara right back. Just because he felt sorry for the kid didn't mean he wasn't still suspicious. The whole thing could have been set up to MAKE him feel sorry so he'd drop his guard.
Kirihara started to lick his lips, an old habit, before realizing that might creep the boy out and forced himself to stop. He waited long enough for Kamio to be convinced that he was asleep—he had always been good at faking it—and started to surreptitiously move closer to the redhead in his false slumber. He could tell the boy wasn't asleep yet.
Kamio was indeed creeped out, and when he noticed that Kirihara was moving closer to him, he fell off the edge with a startle and a loud thump. He had whacked his head on the nightstand in the process and muttered several "Ow"s.
Kirihara stopped his advance and let his breath purr, mumbling softly and incoherently like one in his sleep would. Close, so close.
"Asshole," he murmured, deciding to just go to sleep there on the floor. The hard, carpeted floor. Like hell he'd let that horny demon try to take advantage of him.
Kirihara smirked internally when he realized Kamio's decision. That was fine, he could wait. His house was quite frigid in the evenings, despite his best attempts to warm it. Eventually, Kamio would come crawling back. He murmured quietly and turned around, his back to Kamio.
A couple uncomfortable hours passed, and Kamio was unable to keep warm, much less go asleep. He finally gave up, crawling back into the bed and clutching the blankets tightly over his body. It was much darker in the room now—he was positive Kirihara was sleeping by now.
Kirihara felt the bed spring with the reentry of Fudomine's speed demon and rolled over in his not-quite-sleep like one who was disturbed slightly from it would. His lips were resting just by Kamio's neck, he believed. He was more than willing to let Kamio share his body heat as well as the heat from the blankets.
A chill spiked its way down Kamio's spine when he felt those teasing lips next to his skin. He's asleep, he's asleep—he just rolled over, that's it, he kept thinking to himself. He was still near the edge, so he couldn't very well fall off again. Then again, he felt a new warmth down the side of his body and he couldn't resist too much if he wanted to. He was freakin' freezing.
Kirihara let a sleepy groan pass closed lips and used the sound to excuse the fact that his arms wrapped around Kamio's body. This boy had the best reactions—he wondered how exactly Kamio would react to THIS.
Kamio shivered. He must be dreaming it. He was unable to forget what he had seen that evening. Kirihara was definitely dreaming about him. He felt his cheeks burn red and tried to pull Kirihara's arms off of him. He thought over his options again. Then again, if he's asleep, he won't even know he's keeping me warm... he groaned and stopped moving the arms around his chest.
The demon opened his eyes. The time was now. He smiled and flicked his tongue against the back of Kamio's neck, tightening his grip. "Feeling warm, Akira?"
"Gyehh—!" He jumped with a startled yelp through his teeth and just about fell off the bed again. He barely caught himself. "What do you think you're doing? I thought you were sleeping!"
Ignoring the question, Kirihara held Kamio close and put his lips next to his ear. "Tell me, do you know why it is that I tease you and not the others on Fudomine, when I see them?" Without waiting for an answer, he said, "It's because you're fun to mess with. I love your reactions. However, I am sick of the ones from when I make you angry. I want to see new ones." With that, he dug his teeth into the redhead's neck and laved his tongue across the spot between his lips.
His eyes grew wide and he gasped from the slight pain. "You—!" he gritted, attempting to push Kirihara on his back and pin him down.
Kirihara used the motion and rolled an extra turn, holding Kamio's wrists by his head and straddling his body. He didn't waste time—he was hot and feeling like he was about to explode. He dipped his head down and licked a line up Kamio's neck, ending it with a gentle nibble at his earlobe. His body would be honest, even if his mind wouldn't. Not at first, anyway.
Kamio clenched his teeth and tried to escape the demon's grip. "Let me go!" he choked out, wrestling viciously to get free.
Kirihara silenced him, pressing his lips to Kamio's own. He let his weight rest a bit more on the redhead's body, tired of holding himself up and thinking that if he continued to do so up, Kamio's wrists would break.
He refused to kiss him back and only tried resisting more. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pull away. Kamio felt his fingers stiffening from the vicegrip on his wrists but would not give up until he was free.
Kirihara liked these reactions quite a bit. Anger, then fear... what about pleasure? he wondered absently. While he contemplated what to do with the boy, he let Kamio tire himself out with struggling. There wasn't any way in hell he would let the boy go now.
He had a lot of stamina and it took him quite a while before he tired himself out. Kirihara was a strong person indeed, to have held him down for so long without budging. He panted rapidly. Although he couldn't move much more, he still wasn't going to kiss back or show any further means of succumbing to him.
The demon thought back to their shower and the gleaming body that so entranced him. He took his left hand down, with Kamio's wrist still in it, and used his thumb to inch the boy's shirt up, eyes flashing possessively as more skin was revealed. He nearly couldn't wait to taste it...
He protested with a whine, particularly when the cold air flew over his abdomen. Curse his scrawny physique. He dared not speak, lest it would give Kirihara an opportunity to kiss him even deeper, but all he could think of were curses to override any feelings that MIGHT show liking to this torture.
Kirihara pulled back and slid his body down Kamio's, just enough to reach his chest with his mouth. It was somewhat thin, but he didn't care. He let his tongue wander across one of the boy's nipples—were they hard because of the cold air or because he was starting to like this?
"Nnh... Q-quit that..." He bit his lip, desperately trying to keep his body flat on the bed. Deep down, he yearned for that touch and wanted more of it; but this wasn't Shinji; it was a foul demon he would never be able to forgive. He refused to let himself enjoy this—though it was becoming very hard not to.
The boy grazed the pert bud with his teeth, hesitantly letting go of one of Kamio's wrists and using the hand to toy with the other nipple. If Kamio tried to hurt him, he could be restrained in a flash, though he somewhat doubted that would be the case.
Finally free, he moved the hand down in an attempt to shove the demon away. "Get—off!" he breathed. He bit his lip to prevent pleasured moans from escaping when the boy played with his chest.
The boy ground his pelvis against Kamio's—he could feel him a bit hard now. He bit the sensitive edge of the hard nub, just his teeth coming together barely, not enough to really hurt.
The redhead accidentally slipped a throaty moan. "Quit!" he whimpered, fingers tangling into his messy black hair in another attempt to throw him off, but those damn teeth and tongue against his chest kept distracting him. Why, why did it feel so horrible and yet so teasingly amazing at the same time? Kamio felt himself growing hard now, despite his efforts not to show any kind of attraction to the attention. Dammit, he cursed under his breath.
Surprisingly, Kirihara complied, lifting his mouth from the boy's chest. He grinned and turned Kamio back on his side, restraining his wrists and holding him fully against his warm body. How long can you last, hot and bothered like that? he wondered devilishly.
"You..." he cringed, body extremely needy now. Why... why with him? Anyone but him... he didn't want to show this kind of affection. His breathing went ragged as he tried to control his urges.
The demon smirked, breathing over the boy's ear and shuffling his legs in an attempt to get comfortable. He knew Kamio was breaking.
He gasped agitatedly. "Kiri—hara, you—" he whined loudly. He couldn't hold it for too much longer, mentality fading with each passing second. He hated to admit it, but he needed that bastard to finish.
"Yes?" he whispered, making the word as seductive as was possible. His tongue slithered out to wet his lips as he grinned even wider.
A sharp chill spiked up his spine, half melting from how creepily attractive that sounded and half disgusted with himself for thinking it. He whined pleadingly. "Fi... finish it... now..."
Kirihara had him on his back and was above him in an instant, expression triumphant. "Knew it." He chuckled softly and ran his free hand between their bodies, stroking the soft and sensitive skin just below his navel.
His breathing became choked and needing. Legs squirmed beside Kirihara's thighs. He panted, knowing by instinct that the hand was going to trace even further down and really make him noisy.
The hand inched farther south, running into the hem of the redhead's pants. Kirihara was thoroughly enjoying himself.
He squeezed his eyes shut again. Anything would be better than his most hated enemy taking complete advantage of him. But dammit, why did it feel so good?
"Just between you and me, a se-cret," Kirihara taunted. "Nobody will know about this, I certainly won't tell anyone on Rikkaidai." He pushed the tips of his fingers under Kamio's pants.
He whinnied again. He would know, he would know of the pleasured sin the raven-hair gave him if he proceeded to have his way with him. "How do I know—you won't tell anyone on Fudomine?"
It sounded like Kamio was actually considering it. "Please. I'm not the type to go spreading rumors." He pressed his fingers farther in, feeling the beginnings of what he was looking for and touched.
He gasped sharply, fingers tightening their hold on his tangles. "After—what I did to you—? You can't—honestly say you wouldn't try—to blackmail me..." His heart was racing now at those teasing, feathery strokes.
Kirihara let his whole hand slip in and ran his thumb over the head. "Blackmail isn't my style. If I really wanted to get you, I'd punch you in the face." He decided that talking was over and lowered his head back to Kamio's chest, sucking and nipping those small hardened buds.
He gasped again, realizing he was right. He'd already gotten his eye. "D-dammit, Kirihara..." His waist arched further into the waiting hand.
The boy grinned against the skin, flicking his tongue teasingly over the nipple and moving to the other one, roughly stroking the boy's throbbing length. "What?" he asked softly before resuming his torment.
He was unable to fight the moans or the denials any longer. He released a pleading sound, wanting more and more of the sweet, sweet torture, almost wanting more and more of Kirihara the more he was pleasured.
Yes, THESE reactions were divine. The boy's voice, usually angry and hateful when around him, was now breathy and heavy with desire. The change and the way he could make that sound made Kirihara's body twitch in want. He wanted to bury himself deep inside this boy, surrender to his animalism... He squeezed gently, stroking erratically, barely able to contain himself.
Louder, his pained voice grew. "Oh god, Akaya..." he moaned, cringing with disgust when the first name rolled off his tongue so hungrily.
That's right, call my name, he whispered in his mind. I want you so badly right now... He would soon be unable to control himself, he surmised.
Kamio seemed to comply, whispering his name in a broken, breath-laden voice. He tried to slip his pants down some with one hand, for his own and Kirihara's convenience.
Kirihara finally released his other hand and moved it behind the redhead's back, bracing the shuddering frame. His hand stopped its motions and backed out—Kirihara trailed his tongue down lower until he was breathing over the flushed and aching body. "Tell me what you want, Akira," he murmured seductively.
He trembled at the words beneath his navel. His pants had been lowered just enough for Kirihara to have full access to his arousal. He whimpered needfully. "D-don't tease me," he whispered, not even caring if more teasing was to come. He just wanted this pain to go away and to satisfy the demon's needs. Kamio arched his body against Kirihara's lips.
The demon pulled back just before his mouth touched skin. He swiped his tongue over the very tip, purring, "Tell me what you want."
He moaned. "I shouldn't... have to, you said it yourself... you know what... what I want..." It hurt so much to say those words. It hurt with the pain of defeat, and also with the fiery passion that Kamio couldn't deny any more. This boy, though hated, knew exactly what buttons to push—surprisingly, he was being gentle about the whole affair too.
Kirihara grinned and licked his lips. "I want to hear you say it."
He groaned, feeling like he would explode at any second. "T...take it... please..." he uttered through gritted teeth.
Good boy, Kirihara praised mentally, though he didn't feel like saying it aloud. He latched his lips to the hard flesh and suckled, using tongue liberally. One of his free hands crawled down underneath his body and teased the puckered skin there.
Kamio moaned especially loud at the second sensation, overjoyed when he came and could take a breath of relief. He wished he could squirm a little more at the touch, but his pants were otherwise pretty tight. More, he whined in his head, more... I want more...
Kirihara leaned back up and offered Kamio three fingers. That Kirihara grin was back again—he expected Kamio knew what to do. With his other hand, he laboriously undid the buttons on his shirt and loosened up his pants some.
He took the digits unwillingly and sucked. He knew what was coming next would not be very pleasant, particularly with such a sinister face grinning at him. Kamio hoped he would be able to get a turn out of this torment too.
Kirihara gulped at the feel and couldn't help but comment, "For such a sharp tongue, it's surprisingly gentle, ne, Akira?" When he deemed the fingers sufficiently coated, he gave a soft tug and Kamio released them.
The redhead twitched uncomfortably. "You're one to talk," he whispered hoarsely.
Kirihara pulled at his pants until they came off and lifted Kamio's hips enough to let one finger slide in. The boy immediately seized up around him and he murmured, "Relax, Akira." His other hand circled the redhead's back gently, attempting to force some of the tension away.
He gasped breathlessly at the intrusion. Relax? How could he relax? "Akaya...!" he whimpered. At the same time, he felt the comfort of the rubbing hand on his back and his muscles eased up, if only a little bit.
The raven-hair gloried in that sound, that needy, pained utterance of his name. "Shhh," he whispered comfortingly, pressing another finger in and starting to spread them.
He yelped in painful pleasure. He wanted desperately to be gagged so nobody would hear his screams of tortured delight. Kamio could feel his voice getting more hoarse the louder he got and the more he begged with moans.
Kirihara kissed the boy's lips when the third came in beside the other two. He thrust them in farther, hooking them backwards and searching for something. The hand on Kamio's back arranged the redhead's hands on his body—he'd been clenching his chest so tightly he thought a rib might snap. While the demon wasn't big on comfort, he felt that in the given situation, some was allowed.
He tightened his grip around the other's back and obeyed the kiss this time, fighting his way in to latch onto Kirihara's tongue while he dug fingernails into his skin. It hurt so much... he could already feel himself ripping apart.
His tongue curled around Kamio's, not minding at all that those nails tore him and made him bleed. He heard the bottled scream vibrating in Kamio's chest. He pushed farther in, just a bit more, and nudged that tiny spot inside him.
He muffled the gasp and loosened his hold slightly, thankful Kirihara wasn't going to destroy him after all. "Akaya..." he said breathlessly against his lips. He whispered the name a few more times and tried to catch his breath.
The boy's heart ached at Kamio's muttered chant of his name. He could see pained tears in his eyes and wiped them away with a thumb.
Kirihara gently pulled his fingers away and set Kamio's bare back to his chest, pressing upward against him. He couldn't resist one final crack. "Ride my rhythm," he murmured with laughter in his voice. The raven-hair pushed as gently as possible into the writhing form.
Kamio took back his gratitude and gasped at the boy's arousal bearing into him. He noticed that Kirihara was being much more gentle now, and he had to admit that he was getting a little turned on that the boy really did give a damn about other people. He clenched the pillow tight when the thrusting picked up its 'rhythm'.
Kirihara craned his head back and let a soft groan echo from his throat. Despite what he did, Kamio was still tight and hot around his body. His stomach turned and his heart thrummed in his chest with animalistic energy. The rhythm remained steady, but he wondered for how long.
"Akaya—!" he moaned, unable to take much more of it.
I hear you, Akira, he answered silently. Kirihara's throat was exposed, his teeth bared. He parted his lips in a wordless cry as he released his hold on the heat and spilled himself deep in Kamio's heated core.
Kamio let out one final moan before falling against Kirihara's chest in exhaustion. He felt lightheaded and he could barely see.
Kirihara slid out and fell backwards, landing on his sheets with a soft 'oof'. He breathed deeply for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. At last, he whispered into Kamio's ear, "Do you still hate me?" He was fully expecting a yes.
Kamio followed after him and laid on top of him, kissing the forbidden lips once more. "It doesn't matter... I'll have my revenge tomorrow morning..." he mumbled, chest still rising and falling at a fast pace. The skin beneath him was warm and somehow comforting. When he opened his baggy eyes, he saw Kirihara's glowing jade orbs once more and, for the first time that night, smiled a little bit.
Kirihara smirked against the warm chest. "Very funny, Akira." Silence for a moment more, and then, "Friends with benefits?"
"You... really want to call us friends...?" He look skeptically at the wide-eyed Rikkaidai player's face.
"Well, yeah... if you'll forgive me for being such a complete asshole..." Kirihara colored and looked away. "Never mind, I'm just being stupid."
While shocked at the responsibility Kirihara took, he smiled at the sincerity. "...I forgive you, Akaya..." He tenderly kissed him again.
"Hm... Thanks," he muttered, meshing his lips quickly with the redhead's. "I still expect you to act like you hate my guts in public—people will think it's weird if we stop beating the crap out of each other on a daily basis." His lips twisted in a grin.
"I wouldn't have it any other way, jerk..." He smirked, kissing him deeply one more time and touching Kirihara's sides.
The raven-hair pulled back when Kamio stopped to breathe. "That can die down over time, though, I suppose..." With another thought, he prodded Kamio's entrance and withdrew the finger sharpish when the boy hissed. "As for practice tomorrow, you could say that you sat down really hard on a pole." Kirihara smirked and added, "That's kind of what happened anyway."
He winced and glowered at him. "Who said I was going to school in the morning? And who said you would be either?" He was serious about that revenge.
Kirihara adopted a look of mock fear. "I bet I'll be sore all over by the time you're finished with me." Losing the facade, he grinned again and asked, "Am I right, A-ki-ra?" He spoke the boy's name teasingly.
He reached his finger down and thrust it in Kirihara's body. "Don't try me, A-ka-ya~" he mocked.
Kirihara bit off the end of an expletive and his body jerked. He hadn't been expecting that. He made a meek "ow" of pain.
"So, what were you saying?" He smirked and removed his finger. "I think I WILL make you sore... for all the pain you've ever inflicted on me times ten."
Kirihara figured that his body wouldn't be able to handle that much of a physical beating and thus could only conclude that Kamio was going to torture him with pleasure. He licked his lips smoothly at the thought.
"Don't you ever underestimate me, do you understand?" He returned to his icy whisper and kissed him again.
"I've learned my lesson," he conceded. "But please, can't it wait until morning? I'm dog tired and I'm sure you are too." He glanced over at the clock. Given the time and the torture Kamio had promised, he felt sure that neither would be attending class tomorrow. Or sitting properly for a week.
"Definitely the morning." He sighed contentedly and licked Kirihara's bittersweet lips.
Kirihara drew an arm around him and the blankets up over them both. The moment his eyes closed, his brain shut down and he was out. His final thought was of Kamio's reactions. "Ii data," he murmured sleepily, snorting at the idea.
Hope you enjoyed~