Disclaimer: Digimon is not my property. Lemon. Yaoi. Taito.
The Crisis: Part One
Something clicked into place in Taichi's mind as he watched Yamato pout prettily in front of the crowd. Same gorgeous Yama, same platinum hair, same velvet voice, same skinny cool. Just his best friend from childhood, sweating sensually as ever under blinding stage lights.
Then Taichi blinked. And instantly, irreversibly, no doubt in the suddenly very big, very scary world, Taichi knew—no question—that Yamato was gay.
"Oh no," Taichi knew he spoke the words out loud, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the screaming girls. Yamato flicked his fringe from his eyes, his hand running up and down the mic stand with his wrist cocked just so in a way that made Taichi jolt forward in a panic. Gay! Gay! Gay! The bells tolled in Taichi's head as he toppled half the VIP section in his scramble toward backstage.
When security refused him, Taichi was forced to endure another harrowing twenty minutes of the Teenage Wolves, hoping from foot to foot each time Yamato flashed his teeth, once letting out a whimper when the idiot licked his fingertip and slid it down his bare chest to the delight of the crowd. What are you doing? Taichi wanted to shout, What the fuck do you think you're doing?
Taichi shouted just that the second he caught the blond's arm after the show, having leapt a barricade and outran the guards easily. Yamato waved them off as they rounded the corner after Taichi, panting and red-faced. The wild-eyed, shouting brunette wasn't even out of breath.
Yamato blinked at his outburst, along with the other members of the band, who Taichi treated to a suspicious glare before tugging Yamato away a safe distance. He looked around conspiratorially before meeting the too wide, too blue eyes watching him with evident worry.
"We've got to get you out of here," Taichi said, trying to remain calm as he whispered, "You're in danger."
Yamato stepped closer to Taichi instinctively, "In danger? What's wrong?" he asked in a low whisper to match his friend's.
Taichi took him by his bare shoulders to emphasize his point, "Get your stuff. I'll tell you when we're at your place," he gave the blond a little shake, "Now."
Obediently, Yamato nodded and walked back to his bandmates, explaining himself with a careless laugh, looking disinterested, looking cool, as if the world wasn't actively crumbling around him. Taichi watched with admiration. The other Wolves, with a last curious look at Taichi, took over packing up Yamato's equipment while the blond pulled a t-shirt over his head. Finally, Taichi sighed with relief. Safely escorting a sweaty, shirtless Yama home would've required a weapon.
Yamato returned to Taichi with just his school bag slung over his shoulder, blue eyes loyal and mouth shut. God, it had taken so long to get to this point—to shut that mouth, to gain the trust in those eyes. He was still a feisty little shit, but now he listened to Taichi, and Yama didn't listen to anyone.
He'd always been a fey thing, but that was what drove girls crazy. Taichi understood that. He'd had a girlfriend every second of high school. Taichi didn't mind. No girl could come between them, Yama always made that clear. Even the last one. What had her name been? Oh, right. Sora. Taichi had let Yamato seduce away his childhood sweetheart without word one. Mostly because Yamato spent the majority of his relationship with Sora with Taichi, rolling his eyes every time his phone chirped. He really was a brat to his girlfriends.
But a boyfriend? A man? A guy might object to Taichi's habit of laying his head in the blond's lap when they talked, to their sleepovers, to Taichi's presence at the Ishidas' apartment for most meals of the day. Taichi's hands formed into fists, realizing this might jeopardize his daily head massages.
"C'mon," Taichi took Yamato's elbow again and they made their escape out the back door of the venue. Taichi fought the urge to break out in a run, settling for dragging Yamato as quickly as possible, but the blond allowed it, keeping his thoughts to himself until they were safely at Yamato's. His dad wasn't home, as expected, but Taichi wasn't satisfied until they were in Yamato's room with the door locked.
"So?" Yamato asked, taking a seat on his bed.
Taichi stood there awkwardly, unsure how he should broach the subject. When in doubt, spit it out, he decided, "You're gay, Yamato."
Yamato drew in a sharp breath, growing pale. Well, paler. A full minute passed before he managed a shaky exhalation that sounded like Taichi's name.
"Did you know?" Taichi asked, brow furrowed. He hated to be the one to break such news.
"Yes," Yamato said slowly, "But how did you—"
"It's obvious!" Taichi almost tipped over with anxious energy. How could he not know? And if Taichi knew, God, everyone would realize it soon. There wasn't time to waste.
"Taichi," Yamato said, eyes fearful and looking a little shiny before he dropped them to his hands, "I was going to tell you. I only just sorted it all out. I was just….I'm just…" Yamato looked up into Taichi's eyes searchingly for a moment, but then his gaze fell to his hands again, voice quiet, "Scared," he finished, frowning.
"Me too," Taichi said, collapsing beside him, "This is bad."
"You think it's bad," Yamato repeated in a small voice, eyes on the carpet, "Now nothing's gonna be the same between us."
Taichi stopped pulling at his hair to look at his friend, "God, I'm so happy you understand!"
"Understand?"
"The danger you're in!"
"D-danger?" Yamato pawed at his eyes.
"Yeah! Danger! There's gonna be a million guys coming after you, Yama, the second this gets out!"
"A million—that's what the danger was?"
"Is!" Taichi insisted. He'd been wrong. Yama didn't get it at all, "Don't you see? Unless we do something about it, you're gonna get seduced!" Taichi said, and when Yamato didn't answer—mouth working soundlessly, he emphasized, "By a man."
When Yamato did nothing, didn't shriek in fear or hide under the covers—just sat there staring at Taichi with his eyebrows raised—Taichi knew he was on his own. With an exasperated sigh of "Here," he leaned forward to catch Yama's hair with both hands, sweeping it back from his face in a makeshift ponytail. He'd hoped that without his long hair Yama wouldn't be so attractive, but with it pulled back his high cheekbones stuck out indecently and his smooth, pale skin looked downright lickable.
"Shit!" Taichi cursed, letting Yamato's hair go, defeated, "You're just too hot."
Yamato regarded Taichi with wide eyes. Taichi clicked his tongue, thinking.
"Maybe if we get you in baggier clothes, you know? You don't exactly dress like a monk." In fact, Taichi thought, putting two and two together, Yamato's clothes were intentionally provocative: so tight and shiny with zippers and laces as if Yamato were bound and tied up like a present waiting to be opened. It was a gay thing, meant for other boys to notice. Which meant it wasn't just Taichi who found himself—very unintentionally, because he wasn't gay but he was a boy—watching the blond move. "Maybe…" Taichi rose and tugged his hoodie off, holding it for a bewildered Yamato to slip into, which he did after Taichi shook it impatiently at him.
He took a step back, examining the effect. He'd hoped to make him frumpy. But the bright blue hoodie only made Yamato's sapphire eyes more stunning. Cursing, he yanked the hood up. The jacket was a size too big—Taichi being broader of shoulder than his slight friend but the effect of the oversized hood drooping over the blond was, "Fucking adorable. We're screwed."
Taichi sat, heavily. He sighed, heavily. After a long moment of silence Yamato brushed the hood off his head, patting his hair protectively, then brought the too-long sleeves to his face. He inhaled the scent deeply, eyes dropping closed in contentment.
"I didn't know you thought I was hot," he said, with a sidelong glance Taichi's way.
Taichi slapped his hand against the mattress, "Focus, Ishida! This is a crisis!" He sprung from the bed and stalked across the room to peer out from behind the window blinds at the dark street below.
Yamato fought back the smile on his face, hugging himself with Taichi's jacket and burying his nose in the fabric again.
"First of all, we better hide out here tonight, to be safe," Taichi muttered, thinking out loud as he scanned the street for Yama-snatchers, "I might not have been the only one to figure it out tonight, and I'm not going to let some roving pack of freaks violate my best friend." He narrowed his eyes at a dog-walker lingering a bit too long at the corner.
"Just imagine what they'll want to do to you," he said, picturing Yamato naked, menaced by some shadow figure who lapped at his nipples while mewling complaints dropped like honey from Yamato's soft lips. Suddenly light-headed, Taichi closed his eyes with a whimper and pitched forward to grasp at the blinds. He hadn't had much to eat today apart from eggs and bacon and toast and some pizza and a soda for lunch and a bag of popcorn and a candy bar and some pretzels. He was suffering from low blood sugar. Obviously.
"What are you going to do to stop them, Taichi?" Yamato's smooth voice drew Taichi away from the window. He sat down beside his friend, proud to see him putting on a brave face. Smirking, even! Classic Yama shit-kicker attitude. They might make it out of this after all.
"I'll think of something," Taichi assured him, putting on a winning—if lopsided—smile, "Until then, don't be scared," his smile faded as he brushed away a blond strand that had fallen across Yamato's face, his eyes falling to rest on his friend's full lips, "I'll protect you," he said, fiercely, a moment before Yamato surged forward to kiss him.
Taichi pushed Yamato away gently, not before briefly kissing the blond back and possibly moaning a tiny little moan, but Taichi hadn't kissed a lot of people, didn't make a habit of it, so it was only natural to, well, react. And Taichi's body had most certainly reacted. He closed his eyes half to block out the sight of Yama's flushed face and nervous glance, half to fight off a second wave of dizziness. He really should eat something, he reasoned. Hunger was effecting his judgment.
Of course, Taichi could admit—was man enough to admit—that this feeling he had that the world was tipping sideways and trying to shake him off could possibly be more of a reaction to Yamato's kiss than because he had eaten only two slices of pizza instead of his usual five. In which case, Yama would probably have the same effect on any variety of guys currently—at this very moment—plotting to take the blond away from Taichi, forever. Actually, kissing Taichi first, before the others found out, was a genius move on Yama's part, Taichi realized, but Yama, for whatever reason, was a little slow today and probably needed Taichi to explain to him why.
Finding his voice after only three tries, he nodded sagely, "You're right, Yama."
"Taichi?" The blond cocked his head, confused, hand still twisted in the fabric of Taichi's shirt.
"Let's face it. Looking the way you do, you're not going to attract nice guys—"
"Taichi—"
"I mean, yeah, they'll want you, too, but you're too intimidating. Not that it's your fault. It's just—nice guys don't really take risks, you know? And you're so blond. It's gonna be nothing but—"
"Taichi—"
"Sleezebags. Rich assholes. White slavers."
"Taichi—"
"You gotta keep your wits about you. You gotta learn not to let your guard—mmph."
Yamato kissed him again, this time with his hand rubbing circles over the hard-on straining Taichi's jeans that Taichi could've explained away easily if Yamato had given him even the space of a breath to talk.
Taichi's hands naturally wrapped around his skinny frame and pulled him so close he was nearly in Taichi's lap. When Yamato finally did break off the kiss it was to loosen Taichi's jeans with two deft motions (Button! Zipper!), and take Taichi's very hard dick—which, again, he could've explained—deep into his mouth.
This was a big moment for Taichi. Had he got a blowjob before? Um, yeah, of course! But also, technically, no. And definitely not by a boy with pretty yellow hair and perfect, perfect lips. Yet all Taichi could do to commemorate the event was to pull Yamato's hair back from his face—strictly out of courtesy! Certainly not to get a better view of the hypnotizing, sliding action of his very own dick slipping in and out of the hot, wet mouth of his best friend.
"Ya-ma," Taichi choked out, toes curling, hips accidentally pushing up into the blond's suction, then accidentally doing it again. Then gripping Yamato's hair tightly and doing it a lot.
"Mm," Yama answered, pulling away with a pop of his lips to rest his forehead against Taichi's, hand pumping the slick shaft as he supported the weight of Taichi's feverish head. The brunette groaned with pleasure. Yamato smiled at the sound, eyes closed, and teased, "Fucking my mouth, Taichi?"
At this, Taichi came without warning. Yamato ducked his head down to lick away the come, hand getting covered in the process. By the time Taichi could remember his name and the necessity of oxygen, Yamato had grabbed a crumbled t-shirt off the floor and was cleaning off his fingers and chin.
Taichi tilted his head and watched Yamato with an expression nothing short of fondness. He'd remembered how to breathe, sure, but was still a bit pre-verbal, his inner monologue just a happy, carefree sound not unlike a xylophone playing a jaunty tune. His smile faded when Yama tossed the t-shirt to the ground and leaned back, mirroring Taichi's position, with a similarly satisfied smile in place.
"No, no, no," Taichi sat up with a huff, "Yama, you bimbo, you can't just blow somebody and expect nothing back. You have to get yours!" Taichi pinched the bridge of his nose. This was hopeless, "Otherwise they'll take advantage of you and your perfect…uh," Taichi trailed off, gaze falling to Yamato's red, swollen lips just as his tongue emerged to lick away a bit of come he'd missed before.
Taichi felt dizzy again, but pulled himself together and soldiered on quite admirably. This was a crisis, he reminded himself. Taichi was tops in a crisis. He was the dude to call.
"I won't have my best friend blowing guys all over town for nothing," he folded his arms and scowled into the middle distance, jaw clenched, until Yamato's hand sliding onto his leg stole his attention away.
"I like it," Yamato said, then pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, tasting.
Taichi's heart hitched, then seemed to stop completely. "God, they're going to eat you alive," he moaned.
"Did you like it?" Yamato all but purred against Taichi's ear, waking up his cock too quickly from its nap.
Taichi squirmed away from Yamato's lips, "We've gotta talk about your voice, too. You can't just use that casually—you'll end up kidnapped," Taichi buried his face in his hands, "We have so much to go over, Yama. You're too sexy." Taichi pulled at his hair, nearly crying. Yamato would get swept away instantly. Any day now. Any minute. And when it inevitably happened, Taichi would be lucky to ever see him again. He'd probably end up the token blond in some Arabian prince's all-male harem at the top of a skyscraper in Dubai.
"This is a disaster," Taichi sniffled.
Slender fingers pried each of Taichi's hands from his hair in turn, then returned to tilt Taichi's trembling chin up, "I'm sorry, Taichi."
"There's that voice again! Don't use that!"
"What voice, Taichi?" Yamato cooed, taking Taichi's hands and guiding them to his hipbones. This cheered Taichi up a little bit. Distracted him, at least. While Yamato leaned back on his elbows, watching, he ran his fingers across the taut skin, hard bone beneath, sliding his palms over these two delicious, no, not delicious, just interesting points on Yamato's body. Not that he hadn't felt them before, groping Yamato during particularly physical fights, but it had always been by accident and there was no way to prove that it wasn't.
"These are nice," he murmured, absently.
"Thanks," Yamato drew the vowel out to pornographically suggestive lengths.
"There it is again! You can't talk like that! Say something normal."
Yamato sat up and opened his mouth to argue, but ultimately sighed and said, flatly, "Something normal."
It was still too provocative for Taichi's tastes, but he supposed it would do for now.
"Now say something sexy."
Yamato let his head fall to the side, his fringe covering one eye. He trailed a finger up Taichi's tanned bicep, gently pushing up the fabric of his shirt sleeve as he traced the muscle, "I love the taste of your come, Taichi," he purred, voice drawing Taichi closer to his sweet lips with each sugary syllable. He paused, dropping his blue eyes. Taichi held his breath, hoping for more, which Yamato delivered with a wicked smile on his lips, "I think your dick is perfect."
Taichi's lips had gone inexplicably dry, so he licked them and said, "Hear the difference?" in a hoarse, strangled voice before crashing his mouth against Yamato's, desperately. Taichi's finger traced Yamato's angular jaw, tilting his face this way and that as they kissed, tongues finding each other. Taichi's hand began to drift lower, down the long neck and delicate collarbones, down the soft t-shirt to squeeze those very interesting hipbones, then, with surprisingly little hesitation, beneath Yama's pants to stroke his erection.
The blond moaned into Taichi's mouth, having no other choice as Taichi gripped the back of his neck, holding him tightly in place.
Taichi whispered, "Beautiful," against Yamato's lips in response, having no other choice, because it was true.
Next up: Part Two. Hot? Hot!
A/N: Please review/follow/favorite if you like it!