She didn't mean to. She really, really didn't mean to. She didn't want to. Okay, that was a lie. I mean, Ryoma-sama, in compromising positions? Yes, please.
No, but Tomoka really didn't mean to walk in on him and his boyfriend doing intimate things. And then stay and watch, because that's worse, right? Worse.
But the ultimate worst is probably that she does it multiple times. Unintentional. Of course.
The first time is when she breaks away from Sakuno at the tennis courts to do an errand for the coach (she volunteers. Sakuno looks like she could drop from exhaustion any second). Bring some practice rackets for the second-year players from the storage room, and also find Ryoma(-sama), because the brat (brat? As if) is missing, thus late if he ever shows up, as usual.
She skips towards the storage room cheerfully, thinking about how her brat brothers (yeah, they're the real brats, not Ryoma-sama) are away for a week on a school trip, and how everything's going to be peaceful. So that she can calmly blast her Kpop music throughout the house without interference.
Reaching the room, she isn't really inclined to disturb the layers of dirt on the door, so she opens it minimally and slips inside, shutting the door behind her silently. She's the Stealthmaster. Fuck yes.
The room is kind of dark, and Tomoka blinks and stands where she is, getting used to it. There's sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows (because everything here is dusty as hell) and illuminating a few parts of the room. Fuck, it's so cluttered. There's no space to move. Tomoka finds a heap of nets barring her movement straight ahead. So she stays stationary and looks around for a path.
Tomoka spots a bunch of rackets in one lighted section, over at the far corner of the room. Okay. Good. The storage room doesn't have artifical light, so Tomoka would've been paralysed.
Or she is paralysed. Because right there, right beside her rackets, is Ryoma-sama.
Tomoka instantly ducks behind the kinda-large hill of nets.
Wow. Wow. Tomoka's internally screeching. Real subtle undetectable move, Tomo. Let's hope he didn't notice you. Or the large fucking door opening.
Because, surely, he wouldn't want to notice Tomoka, not in the condition he was, hmm?
Tomoka's head rises halfway above the heap, peering slightly.
Wow, Ryoma-sama's skin looks really really creamy.
And Tomoka's not hitting herself for that, because she's always wanted to see him naked. But not like this!
He's leaning against the wall, letting the sunlight fall on him. He's only wearing his regular jacket. It's hanging off his arms, leaving his shoulders and chest bare. Okay, he's wearing nothing else! Tomoka really wants to leave, run away and pretend this never happened, but she also wants to stay and look at other parts of Ryoma. You know which parts.
But she can't, because Horio's head is hindering her view.
Yeah.
Ryoma-sama's boyfriend. Horio (Tomoka's still rolling her eyes over that one).
What the fuck are they doing? Tomoka rises a little more above the heap. Now she can see clearly. And whoa. She shivers.
Ryoma-sama's face. Fuck. If there exists a perfect I'm-getting-a-blowjob-and-it's-out-of-this-world face, Ryoma has it. Does he really have to tilt his head upwards towards the sunlight? Really? He was sexy enough without posing for the cameras (or Tomo, in this instance).
His fingers are buried in Horio's hair. Horio, strangely enough, is fully clothed. That ugly green shirt's bright enough in the minimal light falling there. Tomoka wants to grimace, but she's too busy staring at Ryoma's hip movements, hips gently thrusting into Horio's mouth. She can only guess, because she only sees the back of Horio's head. And Ryoma's fingers pulling at the strands of Horio's hair.
Um. Wow. Yeah. Tomoka grips the nets tightly, unblinking. She'll think about what to do next. Right now she's fucking watching. Or she's watching fucking. Depends on what happens next.
What happens next is that Ryoma moans. It sends thrills up Tomoka's spine, it makes her weak. And she's like an entire room-length away. Horio moans in return, only it comes out as a hum. Ryoma bites his lip. "Fuck, Satoshi," he whispers. Yeah, fuck Satoshi, Tomoka thinks.
Ryoma's thrusting doesn't stop. Maybe it gets a little faster.
And Horio can totally fucking take it. He's not gagging. Which either means Horio's suppressed his gag reflex or...
Tomoka's not thinking about the second one, because that's just not possible. Horio stands up, pulling his mouth away from Ryoma-sama and walking backwards to admire him. Ryoma, who'd earlier made a disappointed, beseeching sound, now smirks at him, biting his lip, spreading his legs a little more.
And Tomoka's sure of it. All the sexy humans in the world take notes from Ryoma-sama.
She wants to scream. She can see him. She can see his... cock. She can see it. Gorgeous. Glistening. Erect. Even at this distance, she can see precome on it. She's not even slightly abashed that she knows what precome is.
"You're beautiful," Horio says. Tomoka, who had been running her eyes over her god's body, is suddenly brought back to reality. The catch in Horio's voice is perceptible. Like he's sad. Like he's crushed under a burden which he doesn't and does want to remove. And Ryoma apparently knows what it is. "So are you."
"I'm not worthy of you," Horio says, head hanging.
"I don't deserve you." Ryoma steps away from the wall, grabs Horio, pushes him against it, shedding the jacket. "I don't even know what I did that you fell for me. I'm the luckiest person in the world. I love you. I love you so much."
Horio tries not to cry. A sob escapes him anyway. Ryoma kisses him.
He kisses away the tears that fall, and he kisses Horio's red, swollen lips and he puts his tongue where something else of his just was, and Horio's clinging to him like Ryoma's a wisp of air that'll float away, just float away if he doesn't hold him back.
Tomoka keenly feels like she's intruding (she was from the very beginning, of course, but this is a whole new level of emotion). This is the kind of love she understands. The kind of love she wishes to have with someone.
She shouldn't be looking at this. But she keeps looking. She keeps looking at the intimacy, because she can't move, because she's paralysed, remember?
She sees Ryoma's hands moving down Horio's body and suddenly she realizes she can see Ryoma-sama's ass and whoa - opportunity (and mental ass) grabbed. Ryoma suddenly gasps as Horio's hands grasp Ryoma's cock and Ryoma palms Horio's through the cloth.
Fuck, Tomoka, look at your life, look at your choices.
Ryoma pulls it out of Horio's shorts and they're now thrusting against each other, letting out sounds that make Tomoka shiver and clench her fists, kissing fervently. "Love you," one of them says. "Love you," the other answers.
Horio's hands enclose Ryoma's as he moves them up
and down
and his mouth opens in a cry as he comes all over them, and Ryoma follows, head on Horio's shoulder. They stay like that for a while. Tomoka contemplates revealing her presence in a fit of mad joy. Ryoma-sama just climaxed.
"You're going to catch a cold, naked like this," Horio says. Ryoma replies, "Yeah, let me stay here for a minute."
"We're late for practice."
"Fuck." And Ryoma has to pull himself away, so forcibly that it's tangible, from Horio, lick his hands clean (Tomoka's mouth falls open at that, and Horio's blushing like crazy) and put his clothes on.
They kiss for a couple of seconds more. "Let's go," Ryoma grabs Horio's hand and starts to lead him out of the storage room. Tomoka is frozen, still with shock. Fuck, they're coming towards her. Fuck. Fuck.
She crawls into a space between a box full of tennis balls and a curtain of nets, a bit away from the door, just as they reach the heap of nets. Ryoma and Horio leave, open the door and close the door.
Tomoka exhales. She's still shuddering. What the fuck just happened. What.
She hyperventilates for five minutes. And then runs towards the rackets, not thinking about who were just there in that space, grabs them, and, after checking that there's no one outside the storage room, dashes to the courts, towards Coach Ryuuzaki. "Here," she says, panting, extending the rackets to her.
"Tomo-chan, are you okay?" Sakuno asks from beside her grandmother.
Tomoka shoots her a desperate look. How can she fucking tell her? She can't tell anyone. And that thought is so painful. She needs to tell someone about Ryoma-sama's cream skin. Fuck.
"I'm fine," she replies. "Just tired, I ran from the storage room."
"Where'd you get the rackets from?" A voice beside Tomoka suddenly asks. Tomoka shoots a couple miles into the air. "Ryoma-sama!" she screams. "You're so cool!"
She had generated a default response to his presence.
"Where'd you get the rackets from?"
"Um, I..." Tomoka trails off. "The storage room," she finishes lamely.
"When did you get them?"
Tomoka pauses. "Before practice started today," she says, hoping against hope for her survival.
Ryoma shoots her a suspicious glance. "Did you see anything in there?"
"Ha - haha, I just saw tennis balls, and rackets and nets and the weird machines that make the white lines. Why, should I have noticed something?"
"No, not really," Ryoma says, before walking off. Tomoka is internally crying with relief. Though she won't be able to meet Horio's eyes ever again.
And that was just the first time she saw them, damn it.
Tell me how it was. Please? And did you laugh? If Ryoma/Horio's not your cup of tea, then, well, not much I can do.