Title: Quick, Quick, Slow
Pairing:
Hikaru/Kaoru
Rating: NC - 17 for sexual themes, cross
dressing and perversion.
Word Count: 2, 603
Summary:
"It's cosplay," Kaoru says, lifting a foot and leaning
back against the cushions to cross his legs, distracting Hikaru,
though very briefly, with the movement of his bare thighs.
"It's cosplay," Kaoru says, lifting a foot and leaning back against the cushions to cross his legs, distracting Hikaru, though very briefly, with the movement of his bare thighs. They are in the study after dinner. Fire crackles in the nearby hearth. The smell of books and antiquity hang heavily in the air. His lips part. "We can't have it any other way."
Hikaru eyes his smirk for a moment and leans against the bookcase. He crosses his arms. "Cosplay huh," he repeats in disbelief. "No make-up?"
"Are you disappointed?" Kaoru asks. His hair is held up from his face by a pair of blue hairpins.
Hikaru shrugs with one shoulder. The way Kaoru is casually splayed on the armchair begs Hikaru to give him a second look, and then another. The material of his skirt bunches up around the caps of his knees. He is wearing silk stockings. Hikaru thinks they probably disappear somewhere where Kaoru's hip meets his thigh.
He snorts. "Not really, but did you really have to wear that?" He asks. He is irritated and gestures vaguely. Kaoru only laughs, amused. "Yes," he says, quiet as his face heats. "It creates the illusion of me being a girl." He stands up and the skirt is longer than Hikaru gives it credit for, longer than what suits his taste. He looks away.
"You look silly." He says and rolls his eyes. "Like, like some little girl's doll." He misses the way Kaoru's eyes widen and his cheeks color.
When he looks at Kaoru again, Kaoru is standing in the middle of the room. Hikaru notices for the first time that he isn't wearing any shoes. His gaze drifts from Kaoru's calves to his face.
Kaoru tilts his head and says, simply, "We're the same height. If I don't wear any shoes then, at least I could be shorter by an inch. It will be easier for the both of us." He smiles and holds out his hand.
Hikaru doesn't say he should be the one reaching out but he takes Kaoru's proffered hand anyway. "Come on, let's make this fast," he mumbles.
Kaoru looks a little surprised. "You won't learn anything if we rush this."
"Since when did you learn how to dance anyway?" Hikaru's temper flares. Kaoru is too close and he smells too nice. The material of the dress is soft and silky. There is heat pooling at the pit of his stomach, it makes his blood restless.
"Just trust me," Kaoru says, his lips a thin line. Hikaru grits his teeth. "Arms up, no, Hikaru, not like that." He steps even closer and Hikaru takes a step back.
"Are you okay?" Kaoru asks. He sounds like he wants to laugh. "Hey, you're not supposed to do that, not yet."
"Well you're not supposed to do that, either!"
"Do what?" Kaoru moves closer and Hikaru is invaded with the scent of lavender. He swallows thickly. The smell makes him sick, but in a funny way.
"Do—" he begins but falters. He holds up a finger to his temple. It's getting late. "Let's just do this already." he says instead. "Ignore me."
"Okay," There is a smile dancing beneath the thickness of Kaoru's eyelashes. "Whatever you say." And he takes Hikaru's arm and places it —"That's too low, Hikaru."
"Sorry, this is just stupid." His cheeks heat up. He doesn't usually fluster. He takes another step back. This is too much. "Kaoru, can't we just hire somebody to teach —"
"Hikaru," Kaoru says placidly. He lets a hand rest comfortably along Hikaru's arm and pulls him close. "Relax."
Hikaru tries but fails perfectly. "Follow my lead,"
Hikaru nods. He swallows. "Okay." They fall into rhythm and Hikaru stares at their feet. He follows the sway of a lacy hemline and the movement of Kaoru's legs and knees with his eyes.
"Where'd you get the dress?" The material is soft underneath his fingertips. He grips the fabric firmly. It feels good when he rubs it between his thumb and forefinger.
"From okaasan's closet." Kaoru says. Hikaru's steps are becoming quicker and he tries to keep up. "Why?"
"It's nice." Hikaru says. He sounds like he's having trouble breathing. He looks up, sheepish. "Very nice."
"Oh." Kaoru says and he looks thoughtful for a moment. And then it happens. His eyes widen. "Oh."
Hikaru nods. The heat between his legs is unmistakable. He presses it against Kaoru's thigh and lets one hand drift to stroke a stocking-clad leg.
"Thank you." Kaoru swallows as Hikaru's hand begins to move.
"You're welcome." Hikaru takes a step forward. Kaoru takes one, back. The bookcase meets the back of his arm. "It looks good on you." The other hand on his hip slips inside the left stocking to cup at the back of his knee.
Kaoru's face heats. "Savor it," he says. Hikaru's proximity makes his pulse quicken. "I don't like wearing dresses."
Hikaru smirks. He braces his arms against either side of Kaoru's face. "You're such a cliché," Kaoru says with heavy-lidded eyes.
Hikaru's expression twists for a moment. "What?"
"Nothing," And Kaoru shrugs. Hikaru makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat and reaches under the skirt. He curves his hand, squeezes. Kaoru's knees tremble. Hikaru's smirk deepens. "I like this," he says and takes out his hand, damp. "Easy access."
"Maybe." Kaoru laughs but it is hoarse and he is leaning heavily against the bookcase. The ache between his legs increases. "But you're always just horny."
Hikaru laughs too as he lifts Kaoru's right leg and wraps it around his waist. "True."
He peels the stocking off one leg and runs his thumb along Kaoru's calf. Kaoru shivers. "Tease." he tells him but the sound of his laugh is cut off as Hikaru pushes his hips forward and kisses him.
Hikaru's tongue is wet and hot. His hands are inside Kaoru's underwear and he is rubbing himself against Kaoru's thigh, up and down and steady. Kaoru wants to feel Hikaru pulse and push inside him but he does not want to beg though he is desperate for friction. His eyes drift towards the grandfather clock, and then the door.
"Did you lock the door?" He asks when Hikaru pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. "Hikaru, hey, did you?" Hikaru makes a noncommittal sound as he worries the skin of Kaoru's lip. "Yes, no, can't remember." And he rubs some more as Kaoru moans some more.
They kiss again, sloppy. This time, Kaoru pulls Hikaru close, arms loose around his shoulders. When Hikaru grasps the back of his head and slides his tongue between his teeth, Kaoru's arms tighten around him. Their hips move in a quick slow quick slow rhythm.
"You're getting good," Hikaru says when they pull apart for air. His face is flushed and he runs a thumb along Kaoru's swollen bottom lip. "You weren't as good as when we started. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
"Yes, no," Kaoru's smile is amused and a half-smirk at the same time. "Maybe."
"That's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny." Kaoru says and he pulls Hikaru forward by his school tie. Hikaru is starting to taste like the chocolate Kaoru had for dessert and he almost wants to laugh. Almost because Hikaru's fingers are slipping into him, slick and all sorts of wonderful and where did the lube come from anyway?
Kaoru pushes back against Hikaru's fingers and spreads his legs. "Hikaru," he whines but Hikaru slides in deeper and, "Oh!" One of his hairpins is in danger of slipping off. Hikaru tenderly brushes his hair back from his eyes. He bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out.
"You're so pretty," Hikaru murmurs against his neck, tasting salt and smelling perfume. "Let me watch you stretch yourself on my fingers." A kiss dabbles Kaoru's ear and Hikaru punctuates his statement by stepping back. His fingers are slipping out.
Times like this, it makes it easy to forget that this is sick and twisted and wrong. But Kaoru is too aroused and it is too ironic. He looks too much like Hikaru but there is an unexpected heat that shoots up his spine when Hikaru looks at him with heated eyes.
"Don't," he pleads and Hikaru's smirk makes another appearance. He pushes back against Hikaru's slippery fingers, legs parting further until the pulse between his legs intensifies. He bucks his hips, pushes up and down against Hikaru's fingers again. They brush against his prostate. When he lets out a strangled moan, Hikaru dips his head down to lick the stripe of flesh on his neck.
"Are you stretched enough?"
"No, wait, not yet," Kaoru's voice is hoarse because he will come soon. Hikaru steps closer and nudges his prostate with a finger. "Stretched enough," Hikaru says and smirks. When his fingers leave him, Kaoru lets out a whine. "Hikaru,"
Hikaru just pulls him forward for a kiss. "I don't want to do this standing up. On the floor, Kaoru. In front of the fireplace."
Kaoru nods. He walks stiffly and lies on the rug, on his back. "If my hair catches on fire—" Hikaru kisses him to shut him up. "Don't worry, I'll put it out."
Kaoru smiles against Hikaru's kiss. "Did you lock the door?"
"Yes, no," Hikaru says again as he peels off the other stocking. He runs the pads of his fingers against Kaoru's sides and pulls down his underwear around ankles. "Maybe."
Kaoru shakes his head, laughter bubbling. "Good enough." he says. Hikaru hurriedly undoes his trousers. "Let's keep this," he tells Kaoru before he kisses him. "I like it on you. You're pretty. It's pretty."
"You like it on yourself," Kaoru says but they're both too aroused to think about it for too long.
Soon, Kaoru finds himself on all fours. His palms and knees burn against the carpet. Hikaru lifts the material of the dress and lets it rest against the small of his back in a heap. Kaoru's eyes widen. He thinks in shambles. Oh, oh. Oh. Hikaru's fingers are long and slick. Kaoru tries not to moan too loud.
"I'm stretched enough," he half-screams, half-sobs and Hikaru's hand drifts to touch him there again, between the legs. He tugs and squeezes just as Kaoru chases the burn with his hips and meets Hikaru with every stroke. "Please, Hikaru."
"Please what?"
"You know very well what!"
"I don't." Kaoru grits his teeth at Hikaru's immaturity. He wants him to beg. Fine.
"Take me, please." It's humiliating.
Hikaru's hand leaves him for a moment and Kaoru grits his teeth. When Hikaru settles inside him, hot and slick and hard, he swallows heavily, eyes clenched shut. Hikaru thrusts inside, smooth and slow. "All right?" he asks and Kaoru nods. Hikaru grunts and they rock together, quick, quick, slow.
The push-pull movement of their hips makes Kaoru pulse between his legs. He touches himself but Hikaru tells him to stop. "I want it to be all me. I want you to come because you love it when you're wrapped around my cock."
Kaoru's face heats. Hikaru is obscene. His heartbeat quickens. "Okay," he says in a desperate whimper, eyes clenched shut as Hikaru's grip on his hips tightens. There will be bruises tomorrow. Hikaru pulls halfway out then pushes all the way in. his movements are unhurried but Kaoru does not appreciate the pace.
"Hikaru."
Hikaru groans out something even more obscene.
"Hikaru."
"I won't do anything unless you say so." Hikaru's voice, low, in his ear, teasing.
"Please!"
"No." Hikaru says as he smirks. The smirk dissolves though. Kaoru pushes back against him, flustered and wanton, frantic. He moans as Kaoru rests his full weight on his lap.
"Say it." Hikaru says, his voice an octave lower as he shoves Kaoru back onto his hands on the carpet. "It's going to feel better if you do."
Kaoru breathes heavily. He grits his teeth. Hikaru pushes in tentatively and hits — "Fuck!" his eyes widen, then widen some more.
Hikaru chuckles. "Now for the me part." His hands reach under the skirt and find Kaoru's arousal. He gives it an experimental stroke.
"Hikaru," Kaoru whimpers. His fingers are balled into fists. "Please, just, oh,." There's wetness in his eyes. "Fuck me already, Hikaru. Hard and fast. I want it please!"
Hikaru, smirks and concedes. He pistons in and out of Kaoru, watching himself disappear between his flushed upraised buttocks. He buries himself to the hilt and pulls out halfway before shoving his cock back in, making Kaoru groan and grit his teeth. Hikaru grips the material of the dress, tighter and kisses Kaoru's clothed back feverishly. Kaoru responds and says his name over and over again.
Heat builds at the pit of his stomach. Hikaru wants to come alone at the site of his younger brother on his knees in a dress, his own cock wedged between the valleys of his buttocks, Kaoru wanton and waiting for completion. He rolls his hips and shoves himself deeper, faster.
"Kaoru," he groans and Kaoru is trying to muffle his sob.
He rubs himself against the carpet. Later there will be a stain but he can't care. Not right now when Hikaru strokes his insides and the ache is building between his legs. Hikaru's fingers are quick and deft and in moments, Kaoru is saying things that he will most likely deny later on. He comes in Hikaru's hand and Hikaru comes inside him, slumping against his back, filling him with trickling warmth.
He rolls off Kaoru much later and kicks his trousers off to lie on his back, next to Kaoru.
"I hate you sometimes." Kaoru says and pushes him lightly on the shoulder. He is a little breathless. He feels sticky. Hikaru's fingers are unbuttoning the front of his dress. Hikaru laughs. "You don't hate me. It's hard to hate me. I'm your twin."
Kaoru rolls his eyes and laughs too. He's going to be sore tomorrow. "You made me beg."
"It's not bad to ask for what you want, Kaoru."
Kaoru is thoughtful for a moment. He sits up, winces slightly but Hikaru's arms come up to help him out of the dress. "Did I hurt you?"
Kaoru gives him a look. "Are you trying to be funny?" The dress is discarded. Hikaru grins, sly, and kisses him on the cheek. "Oh, Kaoru!" he teases. "You're the best brother ever. I know deep down you love me!" And he drapes himself over Kaoru, chin resting heavily against his breastbone as they lie on the carpet.
The fire's almost dying. Kaoru runs his fingers through Hikaru's hair, movements gentle and soothing. Hikaru curls like a little kitten in the crook of his arm, fingers resting against his clavicles.
"The dance party is tomorrow night." He says thoughtfully. His gaze rests on the soiled dress lying in a heap in a corner. He's tired, but barely. "Hey, Kaoru."
"Hm?"
Hikaru's expression is brimming with childish mischief. His thumb drifts to rub listlessly against Kaoru's left hip. He grins. "How much time do you think we have left to practice?"
Kaoru resists the urge to laugh. He rolls his eyes and flicks Hikaru's forehead. "Pervert." But he rolls them over so he is leaning over Hikaru now. Hikaru smirks. He frees wisps of Kaoru's hair from its hairpins and brushes back the strands from his eyes. "So is there more where this came from?" Hikaru says and gestures vaguely to the getup.
Kaoru laughs. "Yes, no." He shrugs, eyes sly. "Maybe."
