Washed Up
A/N: there's a storm coming up, and it's coming soon. Momo and Kaidoh get over their awkwardness in this log. It's a pretty long log!
Authors: Celianna (Momo) & Happiestwhen (Kaidoh)
Rating: MA
Events leading up to this log:
- People are still warning that there's a storm
- Momo offers Kaidoh to help him protect their vegetable garden in case it hits
- During this conversation (on the journals), Kaidoh says he'll make a punching bag, and Momo makes one for him out of a potato sack filled with sand. He draws a cat on one side, and his own face on the other
- They both prepare to go protect their garden
Date: August 31, 2012
Kaidoh has been gathering rocks for the past half hour. In Kaidoh's case, these rocks are more like mini-boulders, because he can't really do anything halfway. And because lifting heavy things is a good way to release tension, and Kaidoh has plenty of that lately. Things have gotten a little better, at least there's an open line of communication between him and Momoshiro now. It's just … a very strained and awkward line of communication. They talk when they have to. They insult each other, but it's always a little weak, like they're both afraid to really instigate anything too serious, because they both are painfully aware of what could—and probably would—happen if they were to actually fight again.
So there's a weird appearance of normalcy, like everything's okay between them, but there's still a dangerous undercurrent of imbalance. Kaidoh feels like every time he says anything to Momoshiro, every time they're in the hut together—it suddenly feels like such a small and cramped space—there's a chance that something might happen again, and the thought is both mortifying and also kind of thrilling. But mostly really, really weird.
And now Momoshiro has offered to help Kaidoh cover their garden in case the strange, windy weather turns into something worse. At least they'll be doing something. Maybe they'll be too preoccupied with work to remember to feel embarrassed with each other. Kaidoh isn't sure who he's kidding with that kind of wishful thinking. Even when Momoshiro is asleep in his bed, facing away from Kaidoh with his blanket practically covering his whole head, Kaidoh feels embarrassed to be there with him. He hasn't stopped thinking about it. He can't turn his mind off.
But he doesn't want to stop talking to Momoshiro, doesn't want to stop being around him, and it feels like Momoshiro doesn't want that either, so they're taking tentative steps forward. It feels like they're feeling each other out for the first time, like they're strangers. This all feels so new. He doesn't know how to act around Momoshiro now. He can't pick a fight with him, but it's like an instinct rushing in his bloodstream that can't be ignored, can't be suppressed. It's in his nature. So he keeps having these weird, aborted bursts of anger and annoyance when he's with Momoshiro, when they're doing anything. His emotions flare up over something stupid and then he remembers, and squashes them down again. Because if he doesn't, if he doesn't stop them … Something's going to happen again.
So he's kept himself busy with running, with lifting dumbbells, with catching fish for Momoshiro and doing laundry … and now carrying rocks out from the jungle's edge. He's able to manage two at a time, one under each arm. They're satisfyingly heavy. It's kind of a decent workout all on its own. Kaidoh thinks about adding it to Hazue's training menu when his ankle heals. He's probably overdoing it. It's not like a hurricane is coming—at least, Kaidoh doesn't think a hurricane is coming. He hopes not. But it's a good thing, to have too much rather than too little; if a storm comes, that cover is definitely not going anywhere. He drops the last two rocks back near the garden plot and then starts jogging towards his hut. His finger joints are red from hauling stones around and he wrings his hands out as he runs.
It doesn't take long for him to reach his hut, and just like Momoshiro told him, that stupid punching bag is sitting there in the sand waiting for him. Kaidoh sees Momoshiro's happy face staring back up at him from the ground, drawn crudely in that thick black marker Momoshiro has grown so attached to, almost as if he's welcoming Kaidoh home. Even if it's just a drawing, it makes Kaidoh's cheeks heat up. Why did Momoshiro have to do that? It wasn't like Kaidoh told him to, or even asked, he just … did it all on his own. It was like he wanted to, like he wanted to do something for Kaidoh. It makes Kaidoh feel really jittery and kind of happy, but also even more confused because wait, if Momoshiro wanted to do something for Kaidoh then did that mean he wanted to do … other things, too? Again?
It's really frustrating how much Kaidoh's heart seems to leap every time he considers that possibility. Since when did he even care about doing that? Now it's a constant thrum in the back of his mind. It makes Kaidoh feel disgusting. It makes Kaidoh feel obsessed. He needs to stop thinking about it.
He pulls the bag off the ground and holds it up at eye level, like he's having a staring contest with the Momoshiro on the punching bag. Stupid smiley idiot. If only Kaidoh could stop thinking about him. He pulls his fist back, intending to land a punch right in the middle of the drawn-on Momoshiro's stupid face, but for some reason he can't make himself do it. He just looks too … happy. It's ridiculous. It's really annoying. He doesn't want to fight with Momoshiro unless Momoshiro looks like he wants to fight with him, too. And he hasn't lately. Or if he does, he's hiding it well. They're both treading lightly for now, doing weird things like say 'sorry', and 'thanks', like they're too terrified to make waves. It's all completely backwards and upside-down. Kaidoh wants to figure out how to reset everything to the way it was before.
Although he isn't sure how erasing it would prevent it from just happening all over again the same way it did the first time.
Kaidoh gives a glare to the Momoshiro on the punching bag and drops it back onto the ground. It lands with a soft thud. Then he climbs the steps to the hut and steels himself with a deep breath. It's become his routine lately—stop, breathe, shake, breathe again, stop shaking—a series of steps he has to go through every time he enters his hut. The possibility of running into Momoshiro, unprepared, freaks Kaidoh out. He hates it. He's never been this nervous around him before, not even back in middle school. Because now Momoshiro is nervous too, now they both are, now every element of awkward feelings is doubled and magnified. It's awful. Kaidoh hopes it's not going to always be this way. But for now, he copes by dismissing it, by calming himself down, by hoping his face won't explode in shades of red the second Momoshiro opens his mouth.
The problem with his routine is that even with practice, he still hasn't perfected it. It's like there's no real way to stop his racing pulse, his sweaty palms, his frazzled mind. So when he walks inside, he already feels a bit of a mess. At least Momoshiro doesn't look totally cool and collected to see him, either. It's strangely a relief to know Momoshiro feels weird too.
Kaidoh doesn't want to just stand there frozen in the doorway so he says, "I got the rocks," because that's why he's here, right? So he and Momoshiro can go and build a cover for the garden together. That's right. As long as Kaidoh just thinks about that, he'll be fine. See? They can still do things together and be fine. Yeah, they can be totally okay.
Momoshiro is having the same sort of confusion that Kaidoh is going through. Every time he and Kaidoh are in the same room, it feels as if the air has stilled, like there's some big pink elephant in the room that they both acknowledge, that they both are painfully aware of, but they won't look at it. Ignoring it is the only thing they can do, it's the only way Momoshiro can really function anymore. Because if he doesn't try to ignore it, to pretend nothing is wrong, then he'll start thinking, and the awkwardness gets multiplied and shoots through all his nerves, and then he'll look like a fumbling, stumbling moron who can't say anything but blush like an idiot.
"Where?" Momoshiro asks, running his hands through his absurdly long hair, avoiding Kaidoh's gaze. He doesn't see any rocks. Momoshiro himself is folding two bedsheets. He's just finished sort of stitching them together to be big enough to cover the garden. It's a crude job, and he probably should have asked Kaidoh to go do it instead (he's the one with the girly sewing skills) so that it would look neater, and he didn't have a bunch of red little dots in his fingers because he accidentally pricked himself with the needle, but then that would mean Kaidoh would be here. With him. Sitting in their hut. With the elephant.
Or something.
"Got them outside?"
Kaidoh nods, and even that's a little stilted, like he's forgotten how to do anything in a natural, normal manner. "Yeah," he says, and looks back over his shoulder out the doorway. "They're over by the garden."
"Okay. Just … give me a second." Momoshiro wrestles with the bedsheets for a bit, trying to tame them down so he can haul them with him to the garden, until he gives up, squishes it into a wrinkly ball, then stands up with it under his arm. Some rope is already wound around his shoulder, fully prepared.
"Go," says Momoshiro. He huffs away a lock of hair obstructing his view, then stares at the floor, at Kaidoh's feet. But even Kaidoh's smelly feet make him feel weird, so he looks at the splinters sticking up from the wooden planks of the ground instead. It's a good thing he's wearing shoes.
Kaidoh doesn't have to be told twice. He doesn't want to be stuck in the hut with Momoshiro any longer than he has to. He'd told him when he built it that it was only meant for one person, but he never really felt it was true until just recently. Being in the same room as Momoshiro suddenly feels claustrophobic.
He climbs down the stairs and stands there waiting for Momoshiro to follow. When he glances to the left, he can see Momoshiro's makeshift punching bag sitting in the sand where he left it, that smiling face still looking back at him. At least this Momoshiro doesn't blush and look away and make Kaidoh feel like he's done something awful. No, this Momoshiro doesn't really do anything at all. Kaidoh would still rather have the real thing.
Momoshiro is a second behind Kaidoh, feeling way too self-conscious of the fact that they're so close, and if Kaidoh would abruptly stop, Momoshiro would collide into his back. He'd rather avoid any sort of colliding with each other. He climbs down the steps, focused on the placement of his feet, and trying not to be acutely aware of Kaidoh's presence. Trying. It's hard.
The garden is not anywhere near Kaidoh's hut. That's simply because Kaidoh had still been living in Momoshiro's shack—along with Echizen—when they decided a placement for it. They found some fertile soil, not that far from Momoshiro's shack, and planted everything there. Except it's a five minute walk from Kaidoh's own hut. Five minutes of walking in silence is like the death sentence to Momoshiro. With each step he takes, he becomes even more painfully aware of how quiet everything is. Of how not normal things are anymore.
He used to not be able to shut his trap around Kaidoh. Well, around anyone for that matter, but he's always been naturally chatty around the snake. And insulting him used to be fun. Punching him was also fun. Things were not that bad … until that day. Now everything's changed. He can't find any words to say that don't sound like nails scratching down on a chalkboard, that won't make him feel like there's pins and needles stabbing him from the inside out. And maybe that could have been something Momoshiro could deal with, but it's not just the words he can't find to say, but anything else feels strained too.
Simply being together in the same room feels suffocating, like he's drowning in an air of pretense and silence. It doesn't even have to be a room—just seeing Kaidoh in his line of vision is enough to make Momoshiro's throat burn out of words, and his thoughts go haywire, and he starts feeling all sorts of things. He wishes it would stop, like there's an off button.
Then again, he also wishes it wouldn't stop, and that he could … somehow act on these feelings. But everything feels weird and new, and scary and terrifying; Momoshiro isn't quite sure what to do. Or what he even really wants.
As he looks at Kaidoh's back walking away from him, he does know one thing; he can't stay away from Kaidoh.
It's impossible, and every inch of his body will scream in protest if he even so much as thinks of the suggestion to ignore Kaidoh and walk away. He can't walk away from Kaidoh. He's already done it once, those five years ago, and he doesn't want to do it again, because it was a dark time for him after that. Yes, he had completely missed Kaidoh. Bugging him, talking to him, doing things with him, sending him random messages, fighting him, bickering with him, insulting him, or even simply being around him.
Momoshiro never thought he'd really be separated from Kaidoh, and now that he's back again, here, in front of him, despite all this weirdness that's happening between them—he can't get enough of him.
He sighs.
How could he mess it up this badly?
Momoshiro just wants to look up at the sky and hopes an answer falls out of it; because he doesn't know what else to do, he's clueless otherwise. He's never been in this kind of situation before. And damnit—why did Kaidoh have to be a guy? It makes everything ten times worse. Maybe if Kaidoh had been a girl, he'd be a lot more open to the idea of continuing this, of admitting that he liked it and wants to do it again. Then maybe they'd have a cute little romantic confession under the cherry blossoms, and then they start dating each other.
Except there's nothing but palm trees on this damn island, and Kaidoh is anything but cute, and definitely not a girl.
And the fact that back then … when they were … doing … that … he had thought Kaidoh was sort of hot, and attractive, just makes Momoshiro all embarrassed and confused—and it's not helping him talk to Kaidoh like everything is fine! He likes girls. Always has. Yeah sure he's been fond of Kaidoh since middle school—ever since they met, really—but it wasn't like a crush or anything. Not the kind that Kaidoh has on him.
It's just all really confusing. All these conflicting emotions and thoughts. Momoshiro doesn't know what to do with them, he can't make heads or tails out of this mess.
So he should start small. He certainly doesn't want to be awkward around Kaidoh forever, but he also doesn't know how to fix this. Baby steps like at least talking to Kaidoh are a step in the right direction, he thinks. Now if only he can look Kaidoh in the eye without blushing, without seeing the memories of Kaidoh's extremely red face gasping for air flash in front of his eyes. It's a memory he can't get rid of, and more confusingly, doesn't want to get rid of. And annoyingly so, it makes him feel way too hormonal. That's the worst part of it all.
That somehow, for some unknown reason, Kaidoh makes him horny.
And just that alone, is enough to make Momoshiro almost turn back around and walk back to the hut without saying a word. Instead he simply hides his face behind some bedsheets and hopes Kaidoh won't look back at him.
It's insane, it really is. And really disgusting too. He shouldn't be feeling this. Kaidoh shouldn't make him feel like this. But he does. And Momoshiro is at a loss at what to do with it. He's already releasing his frustrations behind a large tree deep within the forest, hoping this will keep his mind off of it, tide him over, hoping it will be enough to make him stop feeling like this. But it doesn't help, especially since he's thinking of Kaidoh the entire time he's doing it, and that just makes everything worse and he feels extremely guilty when he's done. Then he starts thinking how it doesn't even compare to the real thing, to that time they were rubbing bodies against each other, and in sync like they get each other like no one else gets them.
It's really disgusting, and yet Momoshiro can't stop thinking about it.
Those five minutes of walking in silence feels like it took forever when they do finally reach their patch of fertile soil, a bunch of green sprouts popping up from the dirt. He even sees some small green strawberries on some of them.
Momoshiro wants to compliment Kaidoh on taking care of it so well, since it seems like he isn't completely incompetent, and actually managed to grow something. But saying anything to Kaidoh, whether it be a compliment or an insult, feels weird, and it'll only remind him of that day. So instead he nudges his foot against one of the big boulders scattered around the plot. What the hell has Kaidoh been doing? Acting like a gorilla and hauling big boulders from the jungle? He asked for rocks, not big damn rocks. Freak.
"T-that's not really a rock," says Momoshiro, and he blushes when his voice cracks from nervousness. This is stupid. Kaidoh is stupid. He crouches down and maneuvers the bedsheets so that it's in between him and Kaidoh, hiding most of his face. Luckily his long black hair helps in this department.
Kaidoh scowls. "Whatever. They'll work, won't they?" he retorts. His voice sounds like it's been stretched thin, and he can't hide that familiar edge of annoyance, his need to make everything antagonistic. But he can't do that right now, so he swallows down the desire to argue and adds, "So how should we do this?"
Momoshiro innocently scratches his head. "What's a tarp look like?"
Kaidoh resists the urge to call Momoshiro an idiot, and shrugs. "Kind of like a tent. We need to prop it up with something."
"Like sticks?"
"Yeah. Strong ones."
Momoshiro huffs. "Then why didn't you collect those instead of those stupidly sized rocks?"
"There's nothing wrong with the size of the rocks, moron!" Kaidoh snarls, unable to stop himself. "But fine, I'll go get sticks too. It's not hard."
"Ok, shoo."
"Asshole," Kaidoh shoots back, and sprints off into the tree line. He wasn't lying about it not being hard. Kaidoh's training schedule makes this sort of thing kind of a cakewalk for him, and within fifteen minutes he's broken off several sturdy-looking, low hanging branches and is carrying them back over his shoulder to the garden.
He isn't exactly hurrying on his way back though, using this momentary separation as a chance to pull himself together again. Now if only he could take fifteen minute breaks away from Momoshiro every time they had to be together. Then maybe he could get through their interactions without feeling like he's going to die from embarrassment or frustration.
When he reaches the garden plot again, he dumps the sticks on the ground near Momoshiro's feet. "See?" he says. "Not that hard. Now help me prop them up in the ground."
Momoshiro crinkles up his nose when one of the sticks slams into his foot. That sort of hurt. He feels like grabbing one of the branches and poking Kaidoh's ribs with it like a sword. But that's stupid. And that's way inappropriate for this kind of situation they're in; anything Momoshiro used to do to mess around with Kaidoh feels like he's walking on thin ice, and it will break right under his feet. So instead Momoshiro simply huffs again, seemingly annoyed (with the situation), then he gathers a few branches in his arm and he walks around the garden.
"Should we just turn it into a square? Or really like a tent, like a line in the middle? I've got some rope ..." Momoshiro fiddles around with the rope wound around his shoulder. This isn't that hard right now, as long as he focuses on his task, and doesn't look directly at Kaidoh, then he can manage. He can control these weird disgusting feelings.
Kaidoh surveys the garden for a moment and then nods. "That should work. We can weigh down the sides with the rocks and use the sticks and rope to prop it up in the middle." Kaidoh's never really pitched a tent before, let alone one made from bedsheets, but it can't be that difficult. If they just work together it shouldn't take long to find something that works. It's the 'together' part that's a sticking point though, because when Kaidoh looks across the garden at Momoshiro, he thinks that doing anything together with him right now sounds like a bad idea. Or a very good one. It's like Kaidoh's got two opposing impulses in his head and they're constantly fighting it out, tackling each other for dominance.
Luckily, right now logic and self-control win out and Kaidoh is able to temporarily stop thinking about whatever that other part of him is angling to do. He picks up one of the branches, a long, thick one, and starts to twist it into the ground at one end of the garden. As long as he just focuses on building this cover, then he won't be focusing on Momoshiro. He can just pretend Momoshiro isn't even there.
Not quite knowing what he's really doing, but figuring it can't be that hard to prop up a makeshift tent when Momoshiro's build an entire shack before, he simply mimics what Kaidoh is doing. Which is rather annoying, because then that would mean giving attention to the man on the opposite side, and he has to actually look at him. He drives a bunch of sticks inside the dirt, putting down all his weight on them so that they're pretty secure and won't get ripped out as easily (he hopes), and more branches are better than one, right? Momoshiro thinks so.
The rope slung around Momoshiro's shoulder slips off, right into his hand, and he ties it around the lot of them, giving it a bunch of knots to make it extra secure. He's kind of overdoing it, but it's better than to focus on Kaidoh, who is doing nothing but make him feel self conscious. Especially that stupid towel around his neck, signaling like a stupid beacon 'I'm covering something up!' and it's really damn obvious, and Momoshiro knows exactly what it is that he's covering up.
Momoshiro has no idea why he even did something like that. So he might have been grinding against Kaidoh, and doing other horrible stuff to him like pressing their mouths together, and slipping their tongues around each other, but that was … given the circumstances, somewhat normal. Okay no, it wasn't normal at all. Momoshiro shouldn't be thinking any of this is normal. Anyhow, the one thing that drives him nuts is that he sort of bit Kaidoh. On his neck. It's like he was some kind of weird animal, or a vampire, or maybe a combination of both—and he still has no idea why he did it. It's embarrassing, that's what it is, and that mark on Kaidoh's neck (or towel) is simply a constant reminder of it. He wishes he could erase it. Or heal it. Or give Kaidoh some ointment to help speed up the healing process. But that would be weird, and already asking him if it hurt was extremely embarrassing enough.
So he can't do anything but ignore it. Or at least, Momoshiro tries to. That stupid towel though …
Momoshiro punches his own leg when Kaidoh is too busy to notice, then he looks up, not exactly at Kaidoh, but in his direction at least.
"Catch," Momoshiro warns him. He extends the rope in his hand, then tosses it at Kaidoh so he can tie it on the other end. Since he's not looking though, he's pretty sure his aim is off, and half of the rope lands on top of some carrots.
Kaidoh bends over to retrieve the pile of rope which fell in the garden instead of Kaidoh's hand. He grumbles something about Momoshiro being an idiot, but they're both kind of at fault for it, neither one looking at each other, so the throw and catch was bound to be terrible. If only Kaidoh could look Momoshiro in the face and not have such a crazy physical reaction to it. It's stupid. Momoshiro's face is stupid. But at least it's his face that Kaidoh is fixating on and not the rest of his body … thankfully Kaidoh is able to suppress that kind of disgusting and perverted thinking.
He loops the rope around his wrist until he's got all of it off the vegetables and then starts tying it around the remaining sticks on his side of the garden until they're all bound tightly and the rope pulls between his end and Momoshiro's, nice and taut. Kaidoh pounds on each branch with his fist to check how tightly they are held in the ground—with the nice side-effect of releasing some of his frustration—and none of them budge. They looks sturdy. He feels satisfied with it.
"This side's done," Kaidoh calls, without looking up.
"Okay, uhm, let me …" Momoshiro already feels his voice shake and his breath quickening just by thinking that he'll have to go back over to Kaidoh's side. He grumbles something under his breath, and slowly walks around the garden, and stops at the bedsheets lying in a pile on the ground.
Looking at Kaidoh right now is out of the question. Momoshiro is sure if he does, he'll simply die from too much blood rushing to his head. Stupid heart, stop beating so fast.
"Here, grab the other end of this and uhh, I'll walk around to cover it on the other side." Momoshiro brushes the hair out of his eyes, then stuffs his hands into the sheets and grabs hold of it, not caring whether or not he's got an end, and he unravels it from the pile. He stands up straight and starts to take a few steps back to extend the sheet, until it slips through his hands till the edge is near, so he grabs that instead, and without even waiting for Kaidoh, he walks back to the left.
Simply being near Kaidoh is way too much … it's just … hard.
Momoshiro nearly trips over his own feet and he blushes a deep red. Not that kind of hard. Thank god his back is facing Kaidoh.
Kaidoh grabs the end of the bedsheet and clenches it in his fist. He pulls it until he reaches the corner and then smoothes his other hand along the opposite side to do the same until it billows out, kind of wrinkly, but definitely large enough to cover the whole garden. The two sheets look like they've been sewn together in the middle and it looks so sloppy that Kaidoh has the urge to smile. He almost wants to say something, but stops himself. It's really not the right time.
Instead, he lifts the sheet up so that Momoshiro can do the same on the other side and they can place it over the top of the rope frame. "Got it?" he asks.
"Yeah." Momoshiro flicks his arms, sending a wave of air through the bedsheet, making it float up like there's a huge bubble of air trapped underneath it, enough for them to cover up the vegetation, and spread it over the rope tied between the sticks. He sinks through his knees, keeping his arms spread to both corners of the sheet, and presses it down into the dirt.
Well.
Momoshiro wrinkles his nose again for the second time that day. How's he going to reach any of those rocks when he's holding the sheet like this? Ugh, this sucks. Kaidoh sucks too.
"Don't let go," says Momoshiro. Then he himself, lets go of one corner, and it shoots out into the plants, but at least he can still reach it. He reaches for a rock behind him, at least Kaidoh had the decency to scattered them around the garden, then places it on top of the corner he's still holding onto. Now that one corner is nicely stuck to the ground, Momoshiro stands up, grabs some more rocks, and quickly does the other corner—after grabbing it again—as well.
Momoshiro stands straight and brushes his hair out of his face; there's a couple of rocks in his arms still, and he looks over at Kaidoh, who is still standing there not doing much. He feels those stupid butterflies swarm in his stomach again, but it really can't be helped. He can't just stop doing things such as protecting their garden, just because he wants to turn around, scream like a girl, and hump some stuff. He sighs, and walks over to Kaidoh's side, who surprisingly, listened to him as he's still holding onto the other end of the bedsheet.
"Bend down," says Momoshiro. He feels his cheeks sting as he says it; it sounds like there's a double meaning behind it. He hugs the rocks to his chest as if this will make him stop feeling squirmy.
Kaidoh hisses at Momoshiro, like he's warning him not to get too close—although he already kind of is—but he obediently crouches down on the ground just the same. They have to get this over with. He spreads the corners of the sheet out to the edges of the garden as far as he can reach.
"Okay, do it," he growls, eyeing one of the rocks in Momoshiro's hands.
Momoshiro feels like bashing Kaidoh's head in with one of these rocks. If Kaidoh is dead, then he can stop feeling like he wants something of him, needs him. That's way too mushy and nasty. But if Kaidoh is dead, then Momoshiro will be sad and depressed, and he'll have no one left to punch. Not that he can punch Kaidoh right now …
He places down a rock near Kaidoh's hand, being extremely aware that their skin almost rub against each other. He retreats his hand like the bedsheet is a hot plate and he's got burned. This is really stupid. Momoshiro walks around Kaidoh—eyeing the stupid towel around his neck—and puts down another rock on the other end, leaving much more space between their hands this time. The bedsheet is now at least, stuck in the dirt, and stretched across the garden. They've managed to accomplish something together. He runs his fingers through his long black hair and lets out a relieved sigh.
Momoshiro doesn't waste a second as he skitters back over to his side, gathering up more rocks, and putting them down on the edge of the sheet, as many as it can hold. Better to have a lot, than none, he thinks. He really still does want those strawberries.
Kaidoh rises back to his feet and rolls a few remaining rocks into place along the edge of the sheet on the opposite side of the garden from Momoshiro, staying as far away as he can get. It feels like they're anxiously pacing circles around each other in a boxing ring, and if they don't stay apart, a bell will chime and there's going to be a fight.
He glances over the pitched center of the tarp to the other side. They've used up all the rocks now, and they're evenly spaced along the sides of the sheet, the heaviest ones at the corners. It looks like it'll hold.
Kaidoh lets out a sigh of relief, because somehow his pulse hasn't managed to rip its way out of his neck from nervousness. And he hasn't run off yet. And neither has Momoshiro. And they actually finished this thing.
He looks at Momoshiro until the other man lifts his head too and their eyes are forced to meet. "What do you think?" Kaidoh asks. "I think it looks good."
What does Momoshiro think? He thinks about a lot of things. Things he doesn't want in his head, things he can't stop thinking about, and keep nagging him whenever he sees Kaidoh, whenever they're close together. It just won't stop, and it's driving him nuts—is it going to be like this every day?
He wipes a few locks of hair away from his eyes. "What if there's a tornado?" Momoshiro asks offhandedly. A tornado of feelings that is, which is always spinning around his stomach, making him feel sick, like he's in a car and he needs to pull over before he throws up.
Just what exactly can Momoshiro do to make them both stop acting so weird around each other? He can't go back in time and prevent himself from … doing that, so what is there left to do? Punch Kaidoh? But that would lead to … things. Talk about it with Kaidoh? Hah … he'd die. Or kill himself, before that happens. Mentioning this to Kaidoh ever again is out of the question. He'll never mention the elephant by its name.
Kaidoh stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "I guess we just hope there isn't one," he says flatly. He doesn't know how to protect a garden from that sort of thing. Maybe tornados don't happen on tropical islands like this. Or maybe the shelter they've built will be strong enough to withstand one somehow. Hopefully.
As if to argue with Kaidoh, a gust of wind sweeps over the garden and the bedsheet billows dramatically against the rope. The weather is definitely changing. Everything is changing lately … Now Kaidoh can't even rely on the summer climate to stay consistent. It's annoying. Everything is annoying and frustrating. Momoshiro most of all.
He takes a few steps back from the garden and looks it over, Momoshiro standing at the middle of the other side, looking like he's caught in a sea of swirly white fabric. It's weird, and Kaidoh feels weird for staring, his gaze automatically gravitating to where Momoshiro is, so he turns around and looks back down the beach instead, out to the horizon where there are some thick clouds in the distance.
"Hopefully all the plants will be okay," he says, a bit uncertain.
"They won't die like this, right?" Momoshiro asks. He'll ask anything to keep his mind off of Kaidoh, which is kind of counter productive, since he's talking to Kaidoh. "I mean, plants need sunlight, or something."
"No they'll …" Kaidoh looks at the sheet. It's translucent enough to let some light in. As long as the storm doesn't last for weeks, it should be enough sun to keep things growing and alive. "They'll be fine," he says, more confidently. "This is just temporary anyway."
"Okay, you're the girl, whatever you say." Momoshiro looks skeptically at the sheet, but thinks it'll hold. He hopes there won't be a storm, though getting out of this heat would be nice. Then maybe he won't wake up in sweat.
Or that might just be because of his raunchy dreams. That could be it too.
Though it's mostly because it's hot, and Momoshiro's hair is way too long (it's been how many months since the last time he cut it?). On instinct, he runs his hand through his hair, letting the black locks fall back into his eyes, and annoy him once more. He's got scissors somewhere.
"Just because I know how to keep plants alive doesn't make me a girl, asshole," Kaidoh snaps back. "You're the one with the stupidly long hair." It's a weak comeback, because Kaidoh's pretty sure his own hair is longer, but it's pulled back right now with his bandana whereas Momoshiro's is just falling all over the place and he won't stop touching it. It's making Kaidoh's fingertips feel itchy.
"Shut up—long hair has nothing to do with girliness!" Momoshiro growls at Kaidoh. It's better than being reminded of his disgusting problem, but then he also reminds himself that if he fights with Kaidoh for real, then it'll lead to things. More disgusting things.
He brushes his hair back, smoothing it out against the top of his head. "I'll cut it … somehow. Can't be that hard." All you do is cut away hair, it shouldn't be hard at all. He doesn't care if he ends up with uneven bangs of hair, as long as it's out of his eyes, and away from his neck.
"And your hair is longer than mine!" Momoshiro fires back when he remembers.
"Yeah well, my hair isn't falling in my eyes all the time," Kaidoh argues. His cheeks heat up and he sounds like he's annoyed, because he is. Momoshiro's hair is kind of a problem for him right now, and Kaidoh wants to grab Momoshiro's hands away from it so he'll stop touching, stop taunting Kaidoh with things he knows are totally off-limits. Doesn't he know that it's dangerous? Doesn't he know what he's doing? Kaidoh's not supposed to be thinking about things like that—he sure as hell doesn't want to be thinking about things like that—but it's hard when Momoshiro's there rubbing in it in his face.
"Fine," he says, mouth a hard, dismissive line. "Chop your stupid hair. Just don't cut your ear off, dumbass."
Momoshiro wants to yell back that Kaidoh's the one to tear his bandana off his head, and kept it with him ever since, but that simply makes his heart beat faster as he remembers—remembers everything. Crap. He was doing so well too. Now the images are back in his head, and Momoshiro turns around so he won't have to look at Kaidoh anymore, at that face that's haunting his mind. Stupid face. Stupid Kaidoh. Stupid hormones.
"I won't," Momoshiro bites back. He takes one last look at the garden, then starts walking away, back to their hut, determined to keep a distance between himself and Kaidoh. How else can he function? If he keeps hanging around Kaidoh things will … things are already … it just won't stop. He wants it to go back to normal. He's never had to feel this weird, or think this hard around Kaidoh. It's always been normal to him, to act on his instinct, to not think about his actions at all, yet now it's all he can think about. What he's doing, how it'll come across, how much it'll make him feel weird things, and what Kaidoh might be thinking.
Yes, it's best if they put distance between them.
Kaidoh hangs around the garden for a while after Momoshiro has left, on the pretense of rechecking the rocks and branches and tightening the knots on the rope. It's something he probably would have done anyway, but really, he's just trying to find something simple and safe to occupy his mind with. But Momoshiro is like an obnoxious force that just keeps worming its way back into Kaidoh's mind, refusing to be ignored.
He pulls the towel from around his neck and drapes it over his face. He feels exhausted from them spending time together, even though it wasn't long at all. Is every encounter they have going to feel so draining? Kaidoh feels like he's trying to hold a dam shut with his bare hands, but the pressure keeps building and sooner or later water's going to come crashing over him and he'll be washed away. It happens every time he's with Momoshiro, each time a little harder to hold himself back.
Sand crushes down under Momoshiro's feet as he makes his way back to the hut. He's feeling weird all over, like he's got a returning fever he can't get rid of. Isn't that some kind of disease? Mono something, yeah, that stupid kissing disease, it's supposed to make you feel tired. Momoshiro just feels drained every time he's around Kaidoh, like a bathtub filled with endless water that keeps leaking out. And it is tiring. Kaidoh gave it to him, didn't he? What with … kissing and all.
It's still something Momoshiro tries to ignore, still tries to deny—he doesn't want things to change even more than they already have, he's sure it will change if he thinks about it, and it'll sink in. That he really did it. He and Kaidoh. Kaidoh Kaoru, who used to be a boy, and his rival, and is now a man, and they were humping like bunnies in the sand.
That's a disgusting analogy. He likes bunnies. Kaidoh probably does too.
Momoshiro again simply tries to ignore it, to not think about it, but really, who is he kidding? It's impossible not to, not when he sees the hut in the distance that Kaidoh built, and the punching bag on the ground that he made for Kaidoh.
Why did he make that again? Momoshiro doesn't really know, he just knows that he had finally managed to gather up the courage to post on Kaidoh's journal, and when he replied, he was desperate to keep the conversation going. Because it's been days now, and they had barely said a few words to each other since then, and that's just not right, it's not how they should act. But when Kaidoh isn't in front of him to taunt him with feelings and memories, Momoshiro feels a lot more comfortable talking to Kaidoh, to pretend nothing happened.
That it somehow ended up with him grabbing a potato sack and filling it with sand wasn't part of his plans, but he did it anyway. Momoshiro doesn't mind doing things for Kaidoh, it's a weird urge he has, one he tries to suppress, as much as all the other ones he has for Kaidoh. Maybe he was hoping that if he did this, they'd talk a bit more, maybe they'd feel a little less weird around each other.
Not that Kaidoh had said a word about it when he came to get him half an hour ago. Asshole.
Momoshiro shakes his head to stop his thoughts, then he starts to climb the steps of the hut, until he's inside, where there's some huge lettering on the wall spelling out Kaoru-chan.
Kaidoh is everywhere, it's kind of deafening, kind of suffocating. Momoshiro can't stop being reminded of him, and he really can't stop thinking of it either.
And Momoshiro can't bring himself to hate it all either. He wants to, he really does. He wants to shout, run away, and maybe bash his head in with a few of those boulders at the garden. So that he can forget, forget that he doesn't hate it, and he doesn't want to forget. That's just simply the worst part of it all. That despite the awkwardness it has created, this rift it has torn between them, he doesn't want to forget. Because he sort of wants to do it again. He sort of really wants to do it again, and he hates that he does, and he hates the fact that he hates that he does—and this is getting really confusing!
A distraction would be nice. A distraction from this madness that Momoshiro can't escape. At least when Kaidoh isn't anywhere near him, he can somewhat control these stupid wants and needs and disgusting urges. So he looks around in his backpack for the scissors he knows he keeps in there, intending to finally cut his hair.
Like a symbolic gesture perhaps—don't baseball players do that when they've lost a game? They shave off all their hair. Well, Momo will cut his hair because … because … well, he didn't exactly lose Kaidoh.
Wait, Kaidoh wasn't ever his, what the hell.
Whatever, he's going to cut his hair. It'll be a nice distraction, and then there's at least one thing out of his head. Or something.
Momoshiro pulls the metal scissors out of his bag, then reaches for a bottle filled with water as well.
Kaidoh sighs. It's been fifteen minutes, and Kaidoh is still thinking about Momoshiro's hair. Without wanting to, he starts worrying about the fact that he's left Momoshiro alone with scissors. Momoshiro, the idiot, can't even tie a bandana on his own; the idea of him snipping scissors around his scalp is kind of frightening. He knows he shouldn't worry, he shouldn't be thinking about Momoshiro at all, but he can't help his weird instinct to want to do things for him. It's a really stupid impulse, but it's not something he can help.
So he jogs back toward the hut, running along the treeline so he won't be immediately spotted. He tells himself he's just going to check on Momoshiro, make sure he's not bleeding from the head from some freak scissor wound. It's certainly not that he can't get enough of him or that he wants to be close to him. That's the last thing Kaidoh wants this week. At least, that's the last thing Kaidoh wants to want.
Momoshiro's got a makeshift hair salon propped up right outside the hut, right in the shade. Which really only consists of an upside down bucket he's sitting on, scissors in his hand, and a water bottle sitting right next to him. His black hair is wet, and clings to his forehead and his bare neck. He's also taken off his shirt, so that he won't be stuck with hairs down his shirt (that's one of the most annoying things in the world). Water trails down from his hair over his back, and it feels sort of nice and cool like that, he doesn't hate it, not in this heat.
Now, if only he had a mirror so he could see what he's cutting. Instead, he blindly grabs a bunch of hair right in front of his eyes, and shoves it in between the cool blades of the scissors. He cuts it off in one snap, so that it stops right at his eyebrows. He's sure it's completely uneven. Alright, this wasn't that bad, he can do it like this. He cuts some more off at the front of his face, his long black hair falling down onto his chest and landing in the sand. He probably looks like he's got a really hairy chest, and it was Kaidoh who was supposed to be the gorilla here.
Stupid Kaidoh, of course he won't cut off his ear. He's not dumb.
Kaidoh walks up to the hut from behind so he doesn't run into Momoshiro right away, although once he sees the bucket and Momoshiro sitting there on it shirtless, he immediately regrets this approach, because it makes him seem like a creep, like he's deliberately sneaking up on Momoshiro or something. So before he's too close, before he's crossed the threshold into total stalker territory, Kaidoh clears his throat loudly to announce himself. And also because the sight of so much of Momoshiro's bare skin makes him feel like there's actually something stuck in there.
Momoshiro's snipping away at the bangs of his hair, and he barely notices the grumpy throaty sound Kaidoh makes, but he does look up, scissors still stuck in his hair, and he spots Kaidoh, sneaking around the hut like a stalker. Momoshiro feels exposed; he's got no shirt on, and he's sitting there with scissors in his hair, and now Kaidoh's seen him fumbling around, not knowing what to do.
Now he sort of wishes he didn't cut his bangs, because his cheeks are already flaring up with heat from embarrassment.
"What," Momoshiro says with a huff. He tries to not let it show that there's a change in the atmosphere, a tension in the air as soon as their eyes met, for however brief it was. "I didn't cut my ear off, okay."
"I can see that," Kaidoh replies, voice gruff. He's trying to ignore the persistent tingle in his stomach. He's trying not to look at Momoshiro, but he can't help it. There's a lot of him there to look at right now.
"The front looks terrible," he points out, and not just because it feels easy to make a jab at Momoshiro. The bangs really do look jagged. If this were a week ago, if … things … hadn't happened, it would be funny. Now it just makes Kaidoh feel even weirder.
Momoshiro removes the scissors from his hair, and he wipes his chest clean. He can't see how terrible it looks like, but considering this is Kaidoh, who thinks everything Momoshiro does is terrible, he takes it with a grain of salt.
"Better than what you could do," says Momoshiro. It's still an instinct within him to disagree and fight on every subject with Kaidoh, it's simply part of who he is—and it sucks that he has to keep himself in check. Any more arguing … might lead to a fight. And this time, there's no shirt to grab onto, and there's some dangerous scissors in his hand.
No, they definitely cannot fight.
Kaidoh glares at him. "I'd at least be able to cut it straight." Assuming he could do it without his hands shaking. Did Momoshiro have to take his shirt off for a hair cut? And what's with all the water? It's like he's glistening in the sun. It's totally disgusting. Kaidoh forces himself to look at the shiny scissors instead.
"And how are you going to do the back?" he asks pointedly. "You can't see back there."
Momoshiro runs his fingers through the back. "I don't know, I haven't gotten to that part yet," he says dismissively. Why does Kaidoh have to argue about this with him right now? Can't he just go away? Go running? He's always running. Of all the times Kaidoh is running, this is the one time he isn't, and Momoshiro actually wants him to. It's so backwards from what he's usually saying.
"Why do you care anyway?" He looks up at Kaidoh, through his thick eyelashes covered in droplets.
"I don't care, moron," Kaidoh growls, his face flushing with heat. "I'm just saying it will look stupid."
"Yeah, well. I'm not the one who has to be looking at it." And it's true; there's no mirrors around this island. But then again, Momoshiro had just implied that Kaidoh will be looking at him, a thought that gives him goosebumps.
Kaidoh hisses. "Well, I have to look at it right now and it's pissing me off!" The words snarl out of him before he's really thought them through. Wait … that's not what he meant! Why does he have to look? It's not like Momoshiro is forcing him. No, Kaidoh's doing that all on his own.
He looks down at the sand instead. Since when did he always have to watch what he says around Momoshiro? Why does it feel like so many things are off-limits? Why can't they just rewind a few days and try it again? Do it right this time and fix this. Is he going to have to be stuck living with Momoshiro and all that annoyingly uneven hair? It's kind of offensive to Kaidoh on a basic level in that he likes things ordered and neat, like his carefully folded bandanas. Momoshiro just has to disrupt everything all the time, doesn't he? Slicing jagged edges through Kaidoh's life. Asshole.
"At least let me fix that piece at the front..." Kaidoh says, voice a little quieter now, almost like he doesn't want Momoshiro to hear the offer. "I mean, what the hell, can't you cut a straight line?"
Don't give him the scissors, don't give into what he says, don't even look at him—but Momoshiro is horrible at taking his own advice, and he flips the scissors over, the bladed end in his hand, and the handle pointing towards Kaidoh. He flicks his wrist at Kaidoh, his eyes challenging him, as if he's saying; just go ahead and try it then. And it sucks he's doing this, feeling this, because he knows he shouldn't. Not when he feels so naked out there, stranded on an island with Kaidoh who's making him feel funny things.
Kaidoh lurches forward like he's forgotten how to move and grabs the scissors. "Okay, stay still," he warns, because the last thing he wants to do is accidentally stab Momoshiro in the face. Sure, he feels infuriated with him (and with himself) over what happened, over what is still happening now, but he doesn't actually want to hurt him. In fact, most of his thoughts and urges involving Momoshiro are a lot more … pleasant. Which is disgusting.
He shakes his shoulders to loosen them—they seem to have twisted into a knot along with the rest of his body—and reaches out his hand to pull Momoshiro's hair up between his fingers. Momoshiro doesn't protest, at least not out loud, but he does seem to stiffen a bit in surprise. It makes Kaidoh's heart beat a little faster, or maybe that's because he has Momoshiro's hair between his fingers. It's slick from the water and slides easily against his skin.
He can't help but be reminded of the last time he touched Momoshiro's hair, but he shoves the memory from his mind, because he has a task to complete. He's going to fix Momoshiro's stupidly botched cutting job. He snips a clean line off from the hair and lets it fall back against Momoshiro's forehead. It looks a lot better than before, although it still looks kind of off, now that it's centered between all the remaining long wisps of hair. Kaidoh wants to cut them too, for the sake of balance and all. And maybe just because he wants to touch Momoshiro's hair again. His hands are itchy like they've been waiting for an excuse to all week. And well, Momoshiro isn't telling him to stop.
That's mostly because Momoshiro has lost his voice to say anything at all. He's kind of frozen in place, doing nothing but stare at Kaidoh's tank top. There's a few grains of sand stuck on it, and it's really rather annoying to be looking at that, but it's better than looking straight at Kaidoh, look into his dark eyes, look at his arms and how his muscles tighten as he snips at his hair, taking deliberate movements, slow and careful. Careful not to stab him in the eye, or careful because Kaidoh notices that Momoshiro is very aware of him touching his hair?
And maybe because he's been wanting this ever since that day?
The feeling of his hair moving through Kaidoh's fingers, to feel him press his fingertips against his scalp; it only brings him back to that day. That day when their bodies were a hot sticky mess, moving together in rhythmic thrusts, and Kaidoh's lips devouring him as it seemed at the time, his tongue, hot, wet and terrifyingly good, wrestling with his own—Momoshiro remembers it in the greatest detail possible. As if someone had been recording it in HD, and it keeps playing back. Except it's been enhanced, it's not just in HD, it makes him remember the sensations as well. Those delicious feelings that kept changing and making his head spin.
His head is spinning right now, with Kaidoh's fingers brushing through his hair, and the satisfying sound of the scissors snapping shut. Momoshiro is kind of torn; he wants to enjoy it—he can't even deny this anymore—but he's simply terrified of letting himself enjoy this. Who knows what will happen if he does? Who knows what he'll do if he makes this weird delightful expression on his face, and Kaidoh sees it? Momoshiro closes his eyes, as if somehow this will make Kaidoh go away, or make him not see his expressions. He feels like hiding. But he's frozen on top of a stupid bucket, so he can't do anything but squirm.
Kaidoh finishes with the hair across Momoshiro's forehead—he feels like he's moving in slow-motion, as though, against his will, his body is insisting on taking its time—and moves around to Momoshiro's side. He's not lingering deliberately; he just wants to do a good job. He tries to think of it like folding laundry or washing dishes, just a simple chore, but it's not working. He can't make his brain turn off.
His fingers flick against Momoshiro's ear as he pulls at the hair there, careful so that Momoshiro doesn't think Kaidoh is trying to really cut his ear off or something. Momoshiro is already shifting around enough like he's nervous. Kaidoh's heart races faster—he's feeling nervous too. He snips the hair off, even and quick and the pieces fall on Momoshiro's bare shoulder and even against his neck and ear. Kaidoh starts to brush them off, but then freezes and flinches, pulling his hand back.
That's going too far.
He puts his hand back against Momoshiro's head, like it's an agreed-upon safe zone, and continues cutting, suddenly very aware of how weird this is. How long can this keep up without either of them acknowledging how close they are? At least Kaidoh can use the fact that Momoshiro's hair is already damp with water to hide how sweaty his palms have become. At least Momoshiro isn't looking up at him, isn't seeing Kaidoh's increasingly red face. And maybe the snapping of the scissors is loud enough to hide his weird shaky breathing. Why couldn't he just have let Momoshiro cut his own damn hair? Because it would have ended up all lopsided? If only it were that simple.
Since Momoshiro isn't doing anything but sit there, eyes closed and focused on the sensation and swooping feelings running through him, he's very aware of everything Kaidoh is doing. How when he moves around him and leans over his head, his shirt sticks to Momoshiro's bare arm, or he leans so close, he can feel Kaidoh's abs touch his arm. The abs his hand was running over that time. It's making Momoshiro's breath as shaky as Kaidoh's, and yes, he noticed, of course he has. When he can't do anything else besides focus all his attention on Kaidoh, of course he can tell how nervous he is too. So careful to not do anything out of the ordinary, to not make things go the wrong way, turn into a different direction.
Because it can all change, in a snap, all it needs is a little push, or maybe even a little touch. Kaidoh's touches are driving Momoshiro nuts.
Can't Kaidoh hurry up? Momoshiro wants to call him a slowpoke, to jab at his reluctant movements, as if he's too hesitant touching Momoshiro. And yes, he probably is. It even feels that way, everything feels so forced and careful. Kaidoh's trying his best to not make any weird movements, to not touch him in a certain place. But it doesn't matter to Momoshiro; every inch of his skin reacts to Kaidoh against his own will. If it weren't so terrifying, he'd probably feel relaxed, very zen—but that was before that day. Now it's after, and now he knows it can turn into something much more, and they both know it. That stupid pink elephant in the room still refuses to leave.
Some of the hairs on his shoulder is starting to make Momoshiro feel itchy, so he peers through his eyes and slides his fingers over his bare skin to wipe them off. But since his skin is kind of damp from the water (or sweat?), the hairs stay stuck, and it takes him a few tries to get rid of it. And then it ends up being flung towards Kaidoh's shirt, where it stays stuck, laughing in Momoshiro's face.
Momoshiro quickly reaches out, pats his hand across Kaidoh's shirt to get rid of the hairs, and retreats immediately afterwards. The palm of his hand is throbbing with erratic pulses he can't control. He closes his eyes again, hoping to gain some sort of control.
Kaidoh snips at the hair at the top of Momoshiro's head, seeing it all flutter down in clumps, scattering in the sand at his feet. Then he moves around behind Momoshiro until he's standing directly behind him. He leans down a bit for a better angle, and his sharp breaths blow over the top of Momoshiro's head, through the newly cut hair there, as Kaidoh starts to trim the hair at the back of Momoshiro's head.
Momoshiro sucks in a breath and bites his lip; does Kaidoh really need to be standing that close!?
Kaidoh's hand grazes Momoshiro's neck as he pulls at the hair and snips away at it. Automatically, Kaidoh can see goosebumps raise on Momoshiro's skin, and feels Momoshiro shiver against his touch. It makes Kaidoh's fingertips thrum with excitement. They want to make Momoshiro do that again. But Kaidoh doesn't; his still rational mind knows that would be a terrible idea, so he's more careful next time, trying to keep his hands from pressing too close to Momoshiro's skin, to touch his hair only, to cut quickly and then pull away, to stop lingering. But as the scissors continue to snip away at long hairs, exposing more and more of Momoshiro's neck, Kaidoh feels his willpower slipping. At least it will be over soon. And then maybe his fingers will stop feeling like they're hooked up to electrical buzzers and each touch is another zap.
This haircut is supposed to make Momoshiro feel more refreshed, cool—certainly not hot. Not shivering of heat, of feeling Kaidoh's body so close to him once more, behind him, doing things to his head and his neck. Doesn't Kaidoh know by now he's really sensitive there? It's almost like he's doing it on purpose, as if he wants to cause any sort of reaction in Momoshiro, and he's doing a fine good job.
It only serves to remind him of Kaidoh's fingernails scratching the back of his neck, his face burying himself into the nook of his neck, and gasping, and squirming, and then that tongue...
Momoshiro lets out a small sigh as he remembers the feelings, the pleasure, the excitement, the thrilling sensations. He wants to experience them again. In fact, he sort of wants to feel them right now, he doesn't want to wait, he's impatient, and now that Kaidoh's making work of his neck and giving him goosebumps, he's sort of losing his rational thoughts again. The thoughts that were supposed to keep him in check, to let him know that he's supposed to be avoiding any physical contact with Kaidoh, and well, he should avoid him altogether, they're simply slipping away. With each cut and snip, Kaidoh leans closer, and the warmth that radiates from his body hits Momoshiro like a tidal wave. He's getting overwhelmed by it again, he's starting to feel good again.
So instead of doing the right thing, like getting up and walking away—walk away from all these weird and mixed up feelings—Momoshiro instead feels like this awkward wall is crumbling away, and he leans back a little into Kaidoh's touch. It just feels too nice, too good, too addicting.
Kaidoh's fingers still and he sighs as he feels Momoshiro relax back against him. The reaction is totally involuntary, the sound of his breath just slipping out of him, easy and relieved. It's just a moment, just a second, and then he starts moving again, continuing his cutting, but it feels more natural now. Just feeling that Momoshiro is less nervous, if only by some small margin, makes Kaidoh feel a little less tense too.
He trims the hair around the other side of Momoshiro's head, over his ear and back towards the front again. Each movement he makes, each time his fingertips brush Momoshiro's skin, he feels Momoshiro react, and it's spurring Kaidoh on to let his fingers linger. Each time, they stay a little longer. He hopes Momoshiro doesn't notice … It's not Kaidoh's fault, it's not like he can help himself. And he has an excuse—he's busy cutting Momoshiro's hair, that's all.
But then suddenly he's finished cutting, having circled completely around Momoshiro, and is standing in front of him once more. He crouches down in the sand so that they're at eye-level, and sets the scissors down next to the bucket. Then he uses his fingers to check that the sides are even and that he hasn't missed any spots. The cut looks okay. Definitely an improvement on Momoshiro's earlier effort. Kaidoh's too focused on making sure the cut is neat to notice how close his face suddenly is to Momoshiro's, to remember how awkward this is supposed to be, but for some reason, at this very moment, isn't.
He pulls his hands back and blinks a couple times too, because it's weird seeing Momoshiro with much shorter hair again. But kind of exciting too.
"That's better," Kaidoh says quietly.
"Are you saying it looked bad before?" Momoshiro asks. He's trying to keep his thoughts off of the fact that they're so close. Within a distance that can be so easily crossed. He doesn't even care Kaidoh cut his hair anymore, leaving him hairy all over, it left him with an aftertaste for more.
Kaidoh snorts. "You mean before when you'd cut it all weird and slanty? Yeah, that looked pretty dumb."
Momoshiro bites his lips and he lowers his eyebrows at Kaidoh. "No it didn't. I look good in anything. Asshole."
"You're so full of it," Kaidoh retorts, and narrows his eyes a bit. "Moron."
"Dumbass." Momoshiro pushes a fist into Kaidoh's chest, that sends him tingling all over. This excitement is back again, and threatening to spiral out of control. "Why don't you—" Momoshiro leans forward, teasingly so, until his chin stops at Kaidoh's shoulder, and he wraps his arms around Kaidoh, sneaking around his back. His hand creeps up, until it grabs the back of Kaidoh's towel and he sits back down again, the towel slipping off Kaidoh's neck. "—give me this, so I can wipe these hairs off of my body."
The towel is clutched in his hands, and he squeezes it against his bare chest; it feels warm and it really does smell like Kaidoh. He feels his eyes refusing to let go of Kaidoh's gaze. That awkwardness, that awful dreaded feeling that he's walking on eggshells has evaporated, and he's feeling like there's nothing wrong anymore. Like this is how it's supposed to go, meant to be. There's even a playful smirk on his lips.
Kaidoh snarls at him. "That's mine, idiot," he fires back, and snatches his towel back out of Momoshiro's hand. Or tries to. Momoshiro's got a pretty firm grip, so Kaidoh only really succeeds in tugging Momoshiro's hand closer to him, the towel in between them like it's some bizarre game of tug of war.
Kaidoh can feel his blood really pumping through him now, he's starting to get that familiar rush, like they're about to get into a fight. It's something he didn't think he'd get to feel again, not after what happened. And right now, what happened doesn't feel like it was such a bad thing at all, not with the way Momoshiro is staring at him with an intensity that makes Kaidoh feel like he might as well be the only person on the whole island, maybe in the entire world.
He tries to match Momoshiro's energy, rise up to his level, and growls at him as he pulls harder on the towel. "You don't get to just take it," he grinds out, but really he's thinking that he wouldn't mind if Momoshiro rubbed the towel all over himself, though Kaidoh would kind of rather do it for Momoshiro himself. Which is unexpected. And a little embarrassing. But suddenly embarrassing thoughts are just giving Kaidoh adrenaline instead of guilty waves of nausea. It's like he forgot this was supposed to be weird. Or maybe he remembered that it isn't.
Momoshiro lets go right as Kaidoh pulls at it again, making him jerk backwards. "Alright then." He can feel his insides buzzing, like that day, which is starting to seem like a very good memory to him now. Things are starting to feel normal once more. "Then you do it. You're the one who cut it up this much in the first place. I mean wow, just look at how much you trimmed!"
To illustrate his point, Momoshiro grabs a lock of long black hair that was simply sitting on his knee and he flings it at Kaidoh's shirt.
Kaidoh scowls and plucks the hair from his chest and drops it on the ground like it's a disgusting bug. It's like Momoshiro is shedding everywhere.
"Fine," he says, and practically punches the towel into Momoshiro's shoulder. The contact feels good, really good. Kaidoh's been wanting to do that since Sunday, to just be able to be like this with Momoshiro again, like it's easy. Then his fingers uncurl and he presses his palm flat against Momoshiro's chest and wipes the towel up over his shoulder, quick and rough, like everything they do. He whips it around the back of Momoshiro's neck and over to his other shoulder, goosebumps are appearing everywhere the towel slips over, and then finally back to the front of his chest again. It's kind of fuzzy now from all of Momoshiro's hair, which kind of grosses Kaidoh out so he shakes the towel out into the sand, then drops it over the pair of scissors next to the bucket.
And because he can, because Kaidoh feels so relieved and a little excited to be able to punch Momoshiro again, Kaidoh jams his fist into Momoshiro's chest. The heat coming off Momoshiro's skin seems to scorch Kaidoh's knuckles. His heart gives a wild, approving thump.
Hair is swirling around in the air, like that obnoxious glitter that was in Momoshiro's hair a week ago, just simply floating around with no aim or goal. Momoshiro looks up at Kaidoh, through the air filled with his own hair, acting like dust motes, like it's some sort of confetti, and this is a scene out of a movie, with everything playing out in slow motion. Maybe it's that HD movie he'd been thinking about earlier, because suddenly all those feelings are rushing back, and he feels that excitement again, simply coursing through his entire body, pumping out from the spot where Kaidoh's fist is pushing against him. It's humming with elation.
Momoshiro puts his hand on top of Kaidoh's, twisting it around until his fingers wrap around Kaidoh's palm, and he pulls it away from his chest. He leans his entire body forward once more, and tugs at Kaidoh's arm to pull him in closer as well. He's not thinking anymore, he's acting on these feelings that he's been trying so hard to keep under control for the past few days. Feelings that are screaming for attention, and Momoshiro is helpless as he can't do anything but listen to them, to act on them.
The feelings are telling him to touch Kaidoh, to pull him closer, to feel him against his own body, to smash their lips together—he wants to do all the things he did with him before, to feel the same intoxication from back then. And right now, there's no pretense in the air, he's not forced to be normal, because Kaidoh's staring right back at him, with a glint in his eyes, and he looks as if he wants it too. He wants to do anything Momoshiro wants to do. It's enough to make him shiver and a red flush spreads across his entire face, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
Ah, he's been wanting this again ever since that day.
The hair settles down between them, lingering in the sand. Momoshiro's hand travels away from Kaidoh's, riding up his arm, to his shoulders, until he clutches Kaidoh's neck. The teeth marks are still there, fading away very slowly. They stopped looking embarrassing to him, and now simply makes him feel pumped, as if he wants to do it again. He slides forward towards the edge of the bucket to lean in close enough to … to …
Wanting to part from him again is the last thing Momoshiro wants to do; the thrilling thumps in his body won't stop, it's like he's meant to do this. Everything clicks and is falling into place again. Momoshiro licks his lips to moisten them, and he flicks his eyes down at Kaidoh's red ones. Those plump lips that felt like fire dancing on his skin. He wants to feel it again. He wants everything. He breathes out a ragged short breath, still staring right at Kaidoh.
Momoshiro stops, he can feel his heart stop as well; he's so close to Kaidoh right now. Their faces are literally centimeters apart, and for a second, he has doubt cross his mind, that maybe Momoshiro wasn't reading the situation all that clearly, that maybe he misunderstood. That maybe Kaidoh doesn't want to do this with him at all … so he stays like that, close enough to do something, but stares at Kaidoh with bedroom eyes, his fingers fluttering around at the small of Kaidoh's neck.
When Momoshiro touches Kaidoh's hand, his shoulder, his neck, Kaidoh feels his whole body seize up and shudder. He's been waiting for it, trying to deny and suppress it, but the truth is, he never stopped wanting it. And now he doesn't have to pretend anymore. He responds to Momoshiro's touches like they're electrical wires and he's the socket; the moment they connect, all the power switches on. His chest rises and falls, rhythmic and tidal. He can feel it coming—that tenuous moment where the cord between them is fraying and about to snap. They don't even need scissors to cut it.
What are you waiting for?
What is Kaidoh waiting for?
They're so close that he can feel warm air puff against his lips, wet and hot. Kaidoh parts his lips as if to speak, but all he can manage is a short, small murmur. He can't just say it.
His hand that was between them raises to press against Momoshiro's cheek, and it's warm. He's blushing, and Kaidoh's sure he is too, but there's no lingering embarrassment there this time, just anticipation. There's a feeling of excitement buzzing in Kaidoh's fingers as they slide against Momoshiro's skin, curling behind his ear and then roughly dragging forward again, back to Kaidoh like an invitation, like a challenge.
Kaidoh's parted mouth still isn't doing anything but hang there waiting, unable to form sounds, let alone words. He can't take his eyes off Momoshiro, mesmerized by his stare. His eyes look like every time they fight, only it's magnified now, they're brimming with fiery intensity. Kaidoh narrows his eyes to try and match him.
C'mon, he thinks, wants to growl. He can't wait any longer, and something about the way Momoshiro is looking at him, with his eyes like a taunt, is making Kaidoh feel heady and a little crazy. But it emboldens him too. It feels right, like this, and any hesitation Kaidoh might have been feeling is quickly vanishing with each press of Momoshiro's fingers against his neck, each breath quavering out of Momoshiro's mouth.
The cord snaps and Kaidoh takes the plunge, leaning forward until the space between them is swallowed up by his lips against Momoshiro's wet mouth.
Momoshiro lets out a deep and quick breath, and he immediately reacts to Kaidoh's lips, eyes automatically closing. His brain is wired up again with all sorts of sensations, flickering on and off, and making his body react on instinct, against his will. But then again, Momoshiro wants this. He wants it so badly, so he presses his lips against Kaidoh's hard. There's nothing gentle about it, and there's no trace of that hesitation he was feeling earlier.
He can't see that pink elephant anymore.
It's gone, replaced by Kaidoh's touch, his lips, and Momoshiro's other hand reaches for his shirt, and he yanks at it to pull him closer. Because that's all he wants; Kaidoh, closer, to him—he doesn't want to lose that experience again, so he's savouring every minute of this, every second. There's chaos swarming around in his stomach, and his heart is thumping in his throat, in his lips, sending small vibrations against Kaidoh's own. He slides his wet lips across Kaidoh's, hard, quick, urgent. It's making his head spin again.
The hand on Momoshiro's cheek feels warm and soft, like Kaidoh's simply entrapping him. It feels strong and sturdy, like a support, that Kaidoh is really there, that he's doing this too, with him. That's all that matters, he doesn't care about anything else anymore. The consequences, the awkwardness that might happen afterwards—Kaidoh's moving his lips against him, so what else can he do but respond? Respond and react, to every touch, to every movement, to Momoshiro roughly sucking at Kaidoh's lips, and once more pulling him closer, until he's almost toppling over the bucket with Kaidoh pressed against his bare chest.
Kaidoh smashes his mouth against Momoshiro's, their lips making smacking noises as they part and press together again, over and over like they're trying to bruise. He's got nearly a week's worth of pent-up frustration rushing into the kiss, all of it pouring out of him. He didn't realize just how much he'd missed this, how much he'd been hungry for it, but now he's attacking Momoshiro's mouth like he's starving. He doesn't even care if it's clumsy and desperate because Momoshiro is reeling him in with the same energy, the same eagerness. He wants it too, every bit as much.
Kaidoh keeps drawing in sharp, hitched inhalations through his nose as he tries to shove himself closer against Momoshiro, wanting to feel every inch of his skin against him again, just like before. He's completely forgotten that he's supposed to hate this, hate himself for doing it. All he can think about is how good it feels.
The hand on Momoshiro's face scrapes back over his head, fingernails digging into his short hair. He shivers his other arm up Momoshiro's side, his fingertips scratching along Momoshiro's bare skin. It feels like he's doing something forbidden, but the way Momoshiro is squirming against him urges him on and his hand travels north until it's at Momoshiro's neck where he feels Momoshiro's pulse throbbing wildly.
Momoshiro feels like he's cheering Kaidoh on, with the way his body eagerly responds to that hand at his neck, to those lips hungry for action, it's like he's throwing pompoms in the air. It didn't feel this intense the last time, those burning lips on his, moving, sucking and releasing. Or maybe it did, it's just that everything feels so great right now, nothing can compare to the rumbling vibrations he gets, shooting up all through his limbs, throughout his entire body, this need to fulfill, this urge to keep moving like this with Kaidoh. Keep moving forever.
When Kaidoh's fingernails scratch against his neck, Momoshiro can't help but groan at the sensation; it gives him goosebumps all over, makes his toes curl up, and his own fingers scratch back at Kaidoh's neck, like payback. Payback for throwing his mind into a tizzy, for making him feel so good he's losing himself again. His other hand is busy trying to sneak underneath Kaidoh's shirt. It's not fair he's the only one without one on, so exposed and vulnerable in front of Kaidoh, with red patches appearing on his skin and spreading like a disease.
And if this is a disease, then Kaidoh's mouth is his medicine. His drug.
But it's not like Momoshiro wants to be cured of this. He might have thought differently a few minutes ago, but every part of his body is disagreeing with him, especially Kaidoh's hands, which are all over him, and his mouth is just attacking his own lips as if it's the last day on earth, and they need to do it now. Momoshiro finally has access to Kaidoh's bare skin underneath his shirt, and he strokes his hand across his entire chest. It feels like Kaidoh's skin is on fire, it's burning against his fingers.
Unlike last time, it's Momoshiro who pushes his tongue against Kaidoh's lips, wanting inside, wanting to feel that disgusting piece of muscle again because it doesn't really feel disgusting. Not at all. Kaidoh is surprisingly willing, parting his lips against Momoshiro's, and Momoshiro quickly dips his tongue inside. It brushes up against Kaidoh's, and it makes a lightning bolt shoot through Momoshiro's body. He's left feeling like he's shaking all over, but it's thrilling, his heart is thumping against his chest, and that disease keeps rushing through him over and over. He swirls his tongue around Kaidoh's, who is moving on his own accord, like they're in a fighting cage, and they're fighting to win. To gain that dominance over each other. It's the kind of feeling Momoshiro has always had with Kaidoh, when they were still young, like eternal rivals. Except he didn't know it could escalate into this, didn't know it could be this good. It's like he's thrown into a land of unexplained mysteries, and he's just finding out about them, one by one, exploring it all with Kaidoh. Each discovery more exciting than the other.
One more scratch on his neck makes Momoshiro hiss out a sharp breath, and he bites down on Kaidoh's tongue in return—not because it hurts, but because it's just involuntary, since everything is feeling so good he needs something to hold onto. Kaidoh shoves his body against Momoshiro in response, and suddenly the balance is tipped, and Momoshiro falls over. The bucket shoots out underneath him, and he lands in the sand with a muffled yelp, his back hitting one of the strong pillars underneath the hut, keeping it up, and splinters dig into his back. Kaidoh's right on top of him, and the brief disruption severed the connection between their mouths, Momoshiro's hand no longer underneath Kaidoh's shirt.
Momoshiro looks at Kaidoh, a bit fazed, and everything is throbbing inside of him. He kicks the bucket away with his feet, reaches for Kaidoh's shirt and grips it tightly, then pulls him up to his face, until he smacks his lips against Kaidoh's again. He can never get enough of this, nothing will stop him anymore. Not even a hurricane.
Kaidoh squirms against Momoshiro, crawling forward until he's straddling him, and then his hands are back at Momoshiro's neck, and on his bare shoulders, and down against his chest. They don't linger anywhere long; he's grabbing and scratching everywhere he can, like he can't get enough. Kaidoh gets a kick out of it, a high that's better than running, from each little gasp Momoshiro makes against his mouth as Kaidoh finds a new place to touch, a new way to drive Momoshiro nuts. But it's not like Kaidoh is himself immune. He feels his heart racing too, his breath growing sharper. The way he's acting is foreign to him, but feels like an instinct he's always had and just never allowed himself to indulge. And now that he is, he's totally out of control. It's like he's not himself, or maybe right now, with Momoshiro, he's more himself than he ever was before.
He drags his lips over Momoshiro's, sucking at his mouth like he's inhaling him, like he's drinking him down, and then he bites at Momoshiro's lower lip, dragging his teeth over it. Momoshiro makes a noise Kaidoh isn't sure is a protest or a sound of encouragement, and he bites a little harder. He tugs Momoshiro's lip towards him, into his mouth, and then lets go and attacks Momoshiro's mouth with his tongue instead, shoving it between Momoshiro's lips and driving it against Momoshiro's tongue again.
This is literally making Momoshiro breathless, not to mention his lips feel raw and abused. Kaidoh's tongue inside of his mouth is plugging him up, he can't breathe anymore, not when Kaidoh's hands are everywhere on his torso. Rubbing along the skin, heating it up, making him lean in and shudder, and it's all going up to his head. An aggressive Kaidoh is always something he liked, riling him up, getting into a proper fight with him—but it's never been like this. Kaidoh feels so much more different from before, but still so very much like him. Instead of punches, they're eager strokes, instead of a kick, he's biting at his lips, and instead of insults, they're rushed gasps. This side of Kaidoh is something Momoshiro can get used to, or maybe he already has, but one thing's for sure; he can never get enough of it.
The hands exploring all over his body are taking their toll on Momoshiro. He grows hotter every second, sweating like crazy from the friction, the heat, this unbearable urge. It's like Kaidoh's taken the reins, and he's doing whatever he pleases to Momoshiro, and he can't do anything but take it as it comes. He feels dizzy, he feels so high.
But then he does finally move again; he can't let Kaidoh just make him feel all these amazing things. That's like, not right, and either way, it feels just as good when Momoshiro's hands are running across Kaidoh's back as well. He really is muscular, and for once, Momoshiro can't complain about his training, because it definitely paid off. The skin feels so secure under his fingers, and Kaidoh's mouth just won't stop moving on his, biting him whenever he feels like it, and Momoshiro returns the favour. Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and he doesn't do it lightly. They never do things half assed, do they?
The closer Kaidoh leans against him, the more Momoshiro's back is pressed up against the pillar, and there are definitely some hard pieces of wood stabbing him in the back. But it's not something he notices, or really cares about. Kaidoh's on top of him, and he's hungrily kissing him, like it's all he ever wanted. It's all Momoshiro wants.
And right now, he wants to feel skin on skin. He's so annoyed with Kaidoh's tank top, it isn't fair he's sitting there with no shirt on. So his hands travel from Kaidoh's shoulder blades to the bottom of his back, and stop at the hem of his shorts. He licks at Kaidoh's tongue, distracting him a little bit longer, or well, enjoying this while he still can, before his hands grab his shirt, and he pulls it up, across his chest, towards his shoulders. Momoshiro pulls back, breaking their sloppy kiss. He takes in a deep breath and looks at Kaidoh, waiting for him.
Kaidoh glares at Momoshiro, annoyed at having to stop, even for a second. He looks down at where Momoshiro's hands are gripping his shirt, then back at Momoshiro's eyes, which are narrowed with a challenge. Well, Kaidoh's not going to back down from that. He's always willing to match Momoshiro, point for point, hit for hit. This is no different, only now it feels like the stakes are higher. There's a tingle of excitement at the prospect of his bare chest sliding against Momoshiro's own, skin against skin with no barrier between them.
It's a little scary too, but excitement outweighs the fear and Kaidoh sits back a bit on Momoshiro's thighs and covers Momoshiro's hands with his own, guiding them to tug the shirt up over Kaidoh's head. He shivers at the sensation of Momoshiro's fingers uncovering his bare skin as they move. Once it's off, Kaidoh flings it away from him into the sand and then lets out an impatient hiss before lunging against Momoshiro for more.
The sweaty collision of skin, of muscle, of Momoshiro under Kaidoh, is immediately sending Kaidoh into a weird, lightheaded daze. He feels like what they were doing before doesn't even count because it doesn't measure up to what's happening now, to the sensations he's feeling everywhere. Every touch is acute and penetrating, every part of Kaidoh's body hypersensitive. Momoshiro needs only to brush against him and it sends heated chills coursing through him, all over him. And he's doing more than just brush against him, their movements violent and frenzied. Kaidoh's mouth covers Momoshiro's own and it's like he's assaulting it with his lips, and tongue, and teeth.
Now this is more like it. Momoshiro lets his hands do all the wandering over Kaidoh's body, one hand stroking Kaidoh's chest, making circles, before going down and brushing over his stomach, over those flexed abs. The other hand is trailing over Kaidoh's arched spine, tracing his fingers over the elaborate muscles on his back. And thinking this is getting in the way as well, he yanks off Kaidoh's bandana so his hair is free to be touched. He can't stop moving his hands, and neither can Momoshiro stop from kissing Kaidoh back just as much.
It's like a fight with their mouths, their teeth click against each other every once in a while because both are eager, both want it now, and it's making Momoshiro's breathing louder and harsher, until he's gasping for air each time they briefly part just to return again, tongues fiercely swirling around each other.
Momoshiro's hand on Kaidoh's back drops down, onto his own lap, and he rests it against Kaidoh's ass, which is sitting there, jerking away from his touch every once in a while. He uses his other hand as well to snake it around Kaidoh, and with both this time, he helps Kaidoh push himself closer against Momoshiro, at the same time he straightens up his own back, away from the pillar, until they collide their naked chests against each other. Now Kaidoh is really straddling him, sitting right on top his crotch, which makes Momoshiro feel all sorts of things. He leaves Kaidoh's butt alone this time, having accomplished what he set out to do—which is to get their bodies to touch as much as possible—and lets his hands roam free over Kaidoh's back. Kaidoh wraps his own arms around Momoshiro's neck, touching him exactly where he likes it. Momoshiro's fingernails scratch into Kaidoh's skin, because this is what he likes when Kaidoh does it, and thinks whatever he likes, Kaidoh does too.
Or, well, he better like it.
But there's not much thought put into each of Momoshiro's actions. He just does it, without thinking at all, because it feels good, because he wants to, he's never wanted anything this badly before. Never wanted Kaidoh this much. And instead of feeling weird, surprised, or disgusted—it simply feels right, how it's supposed to be. With Kaidoh right here on top of him, with his tongue inside of Momoshiro's mouth, eliciting sounds Momoshiro would rather not be making, but he can't help it.
Can't help but be driven completely crazy by Kaidoh.
Momoshiro slurps up Kaidoh's tongue, pushes against it, sucks on it, doing all kinds of things to it, when he pulls his head back, Kaidoh's slippery tongue slides across his tight lips. But he stops right before it's pulled out completely, and Momoshiro leans back again, sliding his lips over Kaidoh's tongue, like he's licking a popsicle, a very, very good and warm popsicle. He can feel Kaidoh pull him closer, his nails leaving a very pleasurable mark on the side of his neck, and it's making Momoshiro shudder and all his muscles twitch at the sensation. So he does it again, sliding his lips over Kaidoh's tongue; it's just so moist and hot, and Kaidoh keeps moving his body against his, so it seems they both like it. Momoshiro sure does. The next time he retracts his mouth, he makes sure to lower his teeth so they graze over Kaidoh's tongue.
It's getting harder for Kaidoh to suppress the weird, strained noises bubbling up out of his throat, and at the feeling of Momoshiro's teeth scraping over his tongue, a low, rumble of a moan rips its way out of Kaidoh's mouth and against Momoshiro's. He doesn't want to give Momoshiro the satisfaction of knowing just what he's doing to him, so Kaidoh tries to mask the sound with a growl. Not that it's much of a secret; his whole body is betraying him, so blatant that it might as well be sending up fiery red flares into the air every time Momoshiro does anything.
So Kaidoh retaliates by scratching his fingernails along the back of Momoshiro's neck, all the way over to the tip of his shoulder. He can feel Momoshiro's entire body react against him. His mouth parts and Kaidoh takes it as an opportunity to reclaim control of it, biting at Momoshiro's mouth, sloppy and urgent.
His thighs clench around Momoshiro's hips as he shifts in Momoshiro's lap. Even the tiniest movement feels explosive, and the toes of Kaidoh's sneakers dig into the sand, like he's looking for traction to push himself forward, closer to Momoshiro. One hand grips Momoshiro's shoulder to steady himself as Kaidoh grinds his hips forward into Momoshiro's body, seeking friction. He gasps against Momoshiro's mouth, his mind momentarily fuzzy, like all the synapses are firing at once. There's too much to focus on all at the same time and Kaidoh feels overwhelmed with crazy sensations.
Shit. Momoshiro gasps as Kaidoh's body moves against his, and it feels even better than last time. All of it does.
Momoshiro rolls his head back, leaving Kaidoh's lips alone for a bit. He holds Kaidoh tightly against him, arching his back into Kaidoh's chest, it feels sticky and incredibly warm. Kaidoh continues to push himself into Momoshiro, and it's just the kind of stimulation Momoshiro is craving. He tries to move with Kaidoh, but finds it's a bit difficult when Kaidoh's on top of him, basically immobilizing him, but he tries anyway, even if they're little tiny movements and thrusts of his hips into Kaidoh. It's kind of ragged like this, each of them moving in a different rhythm, but it's exciting, and it just feels so good, Momoshiro really can't hide the way he's so excited. So aroused. Not like he can even if he tried; Kaidoh's rubbing against it, there's no way he can't notice, and it's obvious he does, because he is rubbing himself right on top of it, it's making Momoshiro want to stop doing anything at all, and just let Kaidoh go at it.
But it's better if he moves too, and his hands are itching to touch Kaidoh everywhere he can, and he is. From stroking over his back, to his shoulders, up and down his arms, his torso, and yes, even rubbing his butt. Momoshiro thinks the shape is kind of cute. But thoughts like that are knocked out of him when Kaidoh's urgent grinding prevents him from doing anything but try to take in as much oxygen as possible.
Momoshiro finally pulls his head back, looks at Kaidoh's neck, then decides to lick his tongue over the teethmarks he left there before, wetting the entire surface. Then he hovers his lips right above the moist skin, not touching it, but he sucks in a very sharp and cold breath; Kaidoh's gotta feel that one.
He does. It makes Kaidoh's whole body tremble and a sharp hiss escapes from his lips. How the hell did Momoshiro have the ability to do that to him? Why is such a simple thing driving Kaidoh so crazy. It's stupid. Kaidoh wonders how to get Momoshiro to do it again.
He claws his fingernails into Momoshiro's shoulders, pulling himself closer, pushing his face against Momoshiro's neck and just breathing, or trying his best to, as he moves against Momoshiro like it's all he knows how to do. The jerk of his hips is becoming more urgent, more heated. His skin's temperature feels like it's rising by a degree each second.
Momoshiro's neck tingles all over, blood rushing to the areas Kaidoh is pressing his face against. He sort of wishes Kaidoh would always put his face against his neck there, it feels wonderful, like that's where he's meant to be.
The moving of their hips continues, straining to go up, and then fall back down, and repeating this over and over again, making Momoshiro's head spin faster. He wraps his other arm around Kaidoh's back, keeping him securely in place against him, so that their bodies can move together, to create the best friction. Something is brewing between Momoshiro's legs, it's simply getting hotter and faster, and he's losing track of anything else.
Since Kaidoh's neck is right there, Momoshiro pushes his lips against the bruise this time. He kisses it lightly, thinking it might actually hurt otherwise, and when he gets a nice accurate pushful shove against his groin, Momoshiro sucks harder in return. He leaves the bruise alone, simply kisses lightly everywhere around his neck, pausing every once in a while to suck harder and feel Kaidoh writhe against him. It's amazing, he wants to keep doing this, and keep rocking their bodies like this.
Momoshiro switches sides, going over to the left side of Kaidoh's neck, where there are no marks, and Momoshiro feels tempted to leave one there again. Temptation is turned into fruition, because Kaidoh manages to move his hips in just the right way, and Momoshiro's mind is back to spinning again. A hand shoots up to the back of Kaidoh's head, and he shoves his fingers into that long hair, before grabbing hold of it, and yanking it to the right, exposing his neck. He first kisses it, once, twice, then grazes his teeth over it, from his collarbone, up to his ear, where he pulls away and licks Kaidoh's earlobe. He's breathing harshly himself, feeling like he's gliding through some clouds, he feels that high, that good, nothing can bring him down. With his tongue, he pulls Kaidoh's earlobe closer, until his lips are sucking on it, before he softly bites this as well. It feels soft and squishy, something which he never thought Kaidoh's body could be.
But Kaidoh's body is surprising him each time he explores it further; he wants to keep doing this, to get to know every detail. To feel everything there is to feel.
Kaidoh lets out a thick groan against the side of Momoshiro's face, too wrapped up in things now to remember to be embarrassed about the sounds he's making, sounds Momoshiro is making him make. He arches his neck back and sucks in air, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It's getting harder to breathe.
Every part of him is alert and reacting on instinct, from his fingertips to his toes to the angry erection straining at his shorts. It seems to twitch and pulse in reaction to each sound Momoshiro makes, and Kaidoh can't help but drive himself harder against Momoshiro's body, against the matching hardness there, wanting to draw the same reactions out of Momoshiro. It's not something Kaidoh ever imagined himself doing; those kind of thoughts were always far too embarrassing, but now he's not thinking about it at all. If he were, he'd probably feel gross. Instead he just feels good. Really good. He wants to be able to feel Momoshiro like this all the time, whenever he wants. He stopped thinking about what he was doing a while ago. Now he's just doing it, like his brain has short-circuited and all he can do is let his body ride it out, feeling everything all at once.
He drops his head against Momoshiro's shoulder, panting out shallow breaths. His hands cling and scratch at Momoshiro's neck, like he's trying to hold on, keep this going for as long as he can stand it. One hand pulls up through Momoshiro's hair, damp and sweaty—Kaidoh can't get over how different it feels now that there's so much less of it to grab, but he still manages to tug his fingers through it and pull, dragging Momoshiro's head closer to him.
Momoshiro rolls his head along with Kaidoh's tugging, leaning into it and it's drawing out moans from him; it's like Kaidoh knows just where to rub, just where to touch.
Knowing that Kaidoh is making the same sort of sounds, sounds that give him chills and thrills, keeps Momoshiro from thinking too much. From realizing what he's doing. He gets a kick out of Kaidoh's groaning and thrashing around, and moving on instinct like he is. Like nothing else matters, except them, and this moment, and trying to keep themselves as close as they can get. It's all so rough and fast, like everything else they do, it's never refined, but it's real, and they both want it. If Momoshiro had the time to spare to think rationally, he'd probably think he's crazy for wanting Kaidoh this much, for enjoying the hell out of it.
Luckily he can't do much else besides keeping Kaidoh right on top of him, in his place, moving and rubbing their hard erections against each other. It feels too good and mind blowing to have the energy to do anything else, like thinking. Thinking is evil.
Momoshiro licks around the cartilage of Kaidoh's ear, it tastes a bit like earwax, but this doesn't seem to deter him, as Kaidoh is shivering and responding to every lick and touch he makes. Momoshiro pulls away from Kaidoh's ear, then kisses his cheek, before putting his lips on Kaidoh's mouth again. It feels hot and sore, like it's taken a beating, but Kaidoh can always take it, and Momoshiro can too. He wants to do this all the time, to see Kaidoh like this, to have him against him; there's nothing else he wants more.
Except maybe some extra friction.
Momoshiro feels a slight annoying movement in his shorts. Their frantic humps aren't precise or delicate, and Kaidoh's grinding against him has shifted something in his shorts, more to the side, and he's not getting the same enjoyment out of this as before since it's in the wrong position. Momoshiro presses his mouth hard against Kaidoh, sucking and gnawing at his lips, while one of his hands pulls away from Kaidoh's back, and it wanders down the front of their chests. He intends to shift his package back to the middle and continue this electrical pleasure fest, but when he reaches his own shorts, Kaidoh moves forwards and his package hits Momoshiro's knuckles.
Suddenly the decision is flipped over in his mind, and Momoshiro turns his hand over, until he presses his palm against the bulge in Kaidoh's shorts. It's extremely warm, and sticky because of all the sweat, and there's a certain wet spot on his shorts that's getting bigger the longer they do this. He encloses his shaky fingers around it, and for some reason, it makes Momoshiro feel really good as well.
Kaidoh's body freezes for a second and he breathes out against Momoshiro's mouth like he's choking. Everything seems to pause for a split second and then he's able to process what is happening and an electrical current snaps through him at the speed of light. This is new. This is weird. Shit, he's really touching him there, isn't he? Kaidoh's face flushes hot and red with embarrassment and surprise.
His hand traces down from Momoshiro's neck to his chest, and for a moment his fingers flinch like they're about to form a fist and he's going to punch Momoshiro for being a disgusting pervert. But they don't, and he doesn't, just presses his palm against Momoshiro's sweaty skin. He likes this. He doesn't want it to stop. Doesn't that make him a pervert too?
Fuck that, Kaidoh thinks, and then stops thinking entirely and rocks forward against Momoshiro's hand. The sensation is incredible. Everything Momoshiro is doing to him feels unreal. Why would Kaidoh second-guess any of this? Why would he even want to try? Not when Momoshiro feels like he's burning a fever clear through him.
Momoshiro hums in a pleasant tone against Kaidoh's mouth, enjoying the way Kaidoh's reacting to everything he does to him. He's not just enjoying this, he's taking immense pleasure in the fact that Kaidoh pushes closer against his hand, rubbing himself there for friction. Momoshiro's hand feels like it's burning, his lungs feel like they're burning, and he takes in sharp gasps whenever he can during the small breaks between their hungry lips. This is turning him on so much.
There are all sorts of impulses running through Momoshiro's body. Thinking things through is really the last thing on his mind, and he simply goes with the flow. He pushes his palm up against Kaidoh's hard penis, making it shift in his shorts so that it's pointing upwards. He can feel the outline of it through the shorts, it's not leaving much to the imagination, and Kaidoh seems to be really into it, what with his frenzied humps. Momoshiro thinks Kaidoh doesn't need to move that much if he's aching for the stimulation he wants, needs—he can rub Kaidoh himself, and he does.
He'll do anything right about now to urge Kaidoh on to continue making those sounds, and keep his hot mouth on top of his. Thoughts such as how weird this is supposed to be never even cross his mind. Momoshiro simply stops thinking.
They just need to keep going like this. Exactly like this.
The palm of Momoshiro's hand smoothes out against Kaidoh's shorts, and he feels the hardness throb and pulse against him. He digs his fingers into the fabric so that he can grab hold of it, as much as he can anyway, it feels warm, hard and soft—not much different from his own, but this is Kaidoh's, so it's very different. And he's just as hard as Momoshiro is, and that makes him feel all fuzzy and excited inside. He pushes his tongue against Kaidoh's before he starts to stroke it up and down. He's temporarily forgotten about his own situation, though every time he strokes down, his hand touches the base of his own erection, so Momoshiro is not about to complain.
Kaidoh squirms in Momoshiro's lap. It's a little embarrassing just how much this is driving him crazy, how he can't control the way his fingers clench around Momoshiro's shoulder, so hard it's driving his fingernails into the skin, how he keeps exhaling sharp, eager little sounds against Momoshiro's lips, sounds he swears he's never heard himself make before. Fights with Momoshiro have always been tempered chaos; they know how to push each other but also know where the limits are. But now it feels like there are no limits. There are no rules or boundaries. Kaidoh hadn't realized it was possible to push things this far. Even crazier is the fact that Momoshiro is just as into it as he is, touching Kaidoh everywhere, exactly where he needs it. And that's weird too. Rather abruptly, this … thing … changed from something Kaidoh never let himself even think about, to something he wants, to something he now needs desperately. It's making it hard for Kaidoh to remember to breathe, and his lips swipe off Momoshiro's mouth, dragging across his cheek as Kaidoh sucks in air like he's surfacing from deep water.
He pants against the side of Momoshiro's face and reels at the sensation of Momoshiro's hand stroking against him. The glide of fingertips over the front of his shorts is dizzying, it's driving Kaidoh into a daze. He's arching against him still, but feels like he doesn't even need to, not with the way Momoshiro is touching him. Kaidoh doesn't want it to ever stop. With each breath he exhales, the air around them seems to thicken, warm and humid. Everything is getting slick and sticky.
He pulls away from Momoshiro's face for a moment and just watches him, looks at his mouth, swollen and damp and his eyes shut like this is the only thing he's thinking about, the only thing he's focused on. It makes Kaidoh's cheeks heat up, just when he thought it wasn't possible for his face to get any warmer. But seeing Momoshiro like this, like this because of him is embarrassing, but also beyond exhilarating. Kaidoh shudders and drops his face into the crook of Momoshiro's neck, squeezing his eyes shut again and pressing his mouth against the skin there with the force of a punch.
The hand at Momoshiro's chest scratches down his torso, and Kaidoh feels it start to shake as it creeps lower, sliding between their bodies, getting nearly trapped between their sweaty skin, until he's at the front of Momoshiro's shorts. He slides his palm against Momoshiro's erection, making Momoshiro jerk towards him, and Kaidoh's breath quickens. His pulse feels like it's about to leap out of his neck. It's a little scary, but it's also a rush, and Momoshiro's doing it too; they're doing it together. Kaidoh's fingers get a little more daring, the touch becoming less tentative, and he tries to match what Momoshiro is doing, to stroke him in the same rhythm. He wants to make him feel just as good.
Shit, shit, shit, shit—yes.
Momoshiro is getting overloaded by all these sensations, these thumping and pumping, and fizzly feelings that are erupting everywhere inside of him. He leans right into Kaidoh's hand, and he's pressing them against each other, barely leaving them any room to move, but it just feels so damn good, he can't help himself. Can't do anything but moan right into Kaidoh's ear, every fiber of embarrassment and shame has left his body. He doesn't care anymore, he only cares how good this feels, how good Kaidoh feels against his own hand, and how Kaidoh is matching the same pace. This is something he never thought would ever happen, but it is.
This definitely beats fantasizing and masturbating on his own. It can't even be compared. Kaidoh's hand is just so different and satisfies him in ways he's never achieved on his own. Though he certainly has gathered new masturbation material ...
Momoshiro slings his other free arm around Kaidoh's back, to keep them close together, but not that he really needs to, Kaidoh's doing this fine on his own, leaning against Momoshiro for support. He looks and sounds so out of it. Momoshiro can't say much himself, as he's hissing and groaning with each stroke Kaidoh makes, it makes him stroke Kaidoh faster in return. Harder, rougher. He leans his head against the side of Kaidoh's head, and keeps him there, as if he's something precious that needs to be protected, something he shouldn't ever let go.
Not that he even wants to, he feels glued to Kaidoh. Leaving him isn't even an option. Stopping isn't either. So they continue like this, pressed against each other, and rubbing through their shorts.
Damn shorts are in the way, Momoshiro thinks. He kisses Kaidoh wherever his lips can reach, on his neck, his collarbone, his temple, his cheek, his ear, everywhere really. The hand on Kaidoh's back is having fun pulling at his hair, but he's mostly focused on the action below, the furious rubbing that's going on. His shorts feel stained and sticky, and the fierce friction from his cotton shorts are beginning to wear him down.
They really are in the way.
Momoshiro doesn't take them off, of course not—he can't, not with Kaidoh on top of him. And stopping isn't an option. So he raises his hand across Kaidoh's lump, finds the hem, and wedges his fingers underneath it, making sure to go down his boxer shorts too. His fingers make contact with the scorching skin of the glans; it's completely wet. Then quickly, he wraps his entire hand around it, skin on skin, it feels like such a burning fizzle. He worms it out of Kaidoh's shorts, until it's out in the open air between them. Momoshiro takes a moment to get used to the feeling of it in his hands, then continues his stroking, this time being able to feel the skin rub up and down against the blood vessels underneath it. It's so different from his own, and it's so exciting. Kaidoh's hand against him feels exciting too. It's the greatest rush on earth.
It's not like he's secretly measuring the length of Kaidoh's penis, but when it's in his hand like that, throbbing and twitching, he can't help himself. Momoshiro has seen it before, years ago when they showered together, but it was nothing like this. Not when it's fully upright and thick with blood—all because of him. He shudders and his shoulders tremble against Kaidoh's chest.
Momoshiro arches his hips forwards against Kaidoh's hand, urgent and needy, hoping he'll get the hint, because he sure as hell isn't going to ask for it.
Kaidoh jerks against Momoshiro's hand and hisses hard into his neck. The blood pounding against his eardrums seems to be screaming at him, but the words are incoherent. Kaidoh can't make sense of them. He can't make sense of anything. All remnants of logic, among other things, have traveled south and his head feels like it's empty, or simply full of fluff. It's like he knows what's happening—he can feel Momoshiro's hand stroking him, fingers curled around his erection, the warm pressure building inside of it—he knows it's there, knows Momoshiro is there, but at the same time it feels totally surreal. It feels like it can't be actually happening.
At least Kaidoh's body still seems able to make sense of what's going on. His fingers move against Momoshiro like instinct, curling around the bulge in his shorts and stroking upwards. Each reaction he draws out of Momoshiro, each gasp and moan, urges Kaidoh on, because he's controlling them. No, they're controlling each other. It feels competitive, Momoshiro keeps trying to drive the pace faster, and Kaidoh isn't about to lose. Each thing Momoshiro is doing feels like it's pushing things a little further, like he's taunting Kaidoh, waiting to see if Kaidoh will back down or be up for the challenge. Just how far can he take this? How far are they both willing to go? Whatever it is, Kaidoh's not going to back down. He won't let Momoshiro have the satisfaction of having beaten him at something. Even if that something is … whatever this is.
So Kaidoh slides his hand up, slipping against Momoshiro's own as he does—it's really cramped down there between their bodies, not to mention sweaty—until he finds the band on Momoshiro's shorts and shoves his fingers down under it to where Momoshiro's penis is already twitching, eager for attention.
Momoshiro immediately jerks his entire body and bangs his head against Kaidoh's, taking in a sharp breath. This definitely feels better, Kaidoh's bony fingers around his own hard flesh, it's just what he's craving.
If someone had told Kaidoh yesterday that he was going to be sticking his hand down Momoshiro's shorts and that he'd like doing it, he would have punched them in the face. But here he is, fingers easily slipping around Momoshiro's hard length and pulling at it with ragged strokes as he tries to fall into a steady rhythm. With each movement he makes, with each movement Momoshiro makes, Kaidoh's breathing grows a little more strained. He knows Momoshiro can hear it. He knows Momoshiro can feel it too.
Momoshiro's hearing leaves a little more to be desired, he feels like he's turning deaf with his heartbeat pounding at his ear drums. With blood rushing through his entire head; he can't hear anything clearly anymore. He's just so focused on the friction of their hands, stroking up and down, it feels fucking amazing, and Momoshiro feels like taking his time to enjoy this, but on the other hand, he feels like he won't last long at all. No, everything is just one big turn on for him, and it's making him creep closer to the edge. Or more accurately; he's speeding towards the finish line.
Since this is Kaidoh, who is sitting on him, naked chests bumping into each other every once in a while, hands furiously rubbing up and down, and Kaidoh's lips leaning against his collarbone, making noises Momoshiro has only heard in adult videos. This is much better than that, it's probably the best thing he's felt before in his life. Even winning the nationals with Kaidoh doesn't compare, because now he's here with Kaidoh, wanting the same thing, doing the same thing—they're on the same wavelength, and it's a connection Momoshiro gets high off, like he's getting drunk.
Momoshiro's breathing is so unsteady and irregular, sometimes he sucks in a breath and holds it in, it magnifies all the feelings as he's so focused on it, completely engrossed with the pleasure Kaidoh is giving him. He wants to do the same, he hopes he's doing the same, and if Kaidoh's face is any indication, he thinks he's doing the same.
He bumps his forehead against Kaidoh's, looking right into his half open eyes for a second, before he shifts his head down, looking at their hands, looking at the skin going up and down. Momoshiro never thought he'd see the day where the sight of Kaidoh's hand rubbing his penis would give him the best chills in the world. Nor would he think he'd enjoy stroking Kaidoh as well, he likes it just as much as he receives it, because this is what they do; they give and take.
It had once started out with fighting, and now it's turned into one bizarre dream where their almost naked bodies are simply together, running towards the same goal.
At least it's not really running, Momoshiro would prefer he stay put, with Kaidoh on top of him, not going anywhere.
But he is getting somewhere. Something is steadily building up inside of Momoshiro, something which makes him twitch and jerk, and gasp and moan, and then he's back to pushing his lips against Kaidoh again. He can't stop, he just wants to touch him as much as possible, everywhere he can. He tightens his grip on Kaidoh's penis, and makes long deep strokes, moving the skin over the glans, and rubbing his thumb over it before he pulls it back down. He's amazed with himself that he's able to do this while his head is spinning mind blowingly fast. It's out of control. They're out of control.
When Kaidoh screws his eyes shut, his other senses all seem to leap into heightened sensitivity. He can hear every sound Momoshiro's making, from his shallow breathing, to the louder, more desperate noises that make Kaidoh's ears burn with embarrassment, because fuck, he's the one causing them. He can hear himself, too, just as unhinged, just as frantic. He doesn't even recognize his voice; Momoshiro's drawing sounds out of him he's never made before, never had a use for until this moment.
He can hear their hands too, the slick sound of skin against skin, an ever accelerating, repetitive rhythm that they're both riding out for as long as they can sustain it. It's really strange to listen to, it should be disgusting, but it's just making Kaidoh even more aroused, because he can feel what those sounds are doing to him, feel in the shudder of Momoshiro's shoulders against his body what they're doing to Momoshiro as well. Every touch seems like just what he's craving, and Kaidoh didn't realize he was even the sort of person to get cravings … not like this. But that's exactly what it is, a very deep and heavy need pounding within him. And he can't think of anything except … More.
He clutches at Momoshiro's shoulder like his palm is glued to it; he doesn't want to stop holding onto him. He's not sure what would happen if he did. He nudges his face against Momoshiro's head, rubbing his cheek against his sweaty hair and then drops his head and inhales sharply. Everything smells thick and heady. He presses his mouth onto the whorl of Momoshiro's ear and shallow breaths pant out against it. He skims his mouth down along Momoshiro's neck, and tastes nothing but sweat and heat, which should be gross, but he just can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of any of this.
He can't seem to stop putting his mouth against Momoshiro, wherever he can reach, always wanting to come back to his lips, which now seem impossibly red and full now. But it's getting hard to do anything but just try and remember to breathe. His mind is whirling from sensory overload. His body feels like it's becoming overloaded too; he doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold it together. Not long, he knows, not if Momoshiro keeps going like this. Kaidoh sure hopes he keeps going like this. As with anything they do, he's intent on seeing it through to the end.
For a bit, Momoshiro's stroking becomes sloppy, the rhythm thrown off, all because he's so concentrated on what Kaidoh is doing to him. Everything he does hits just the right spot, makes him feel just the right thing, and he's left shuddering all over, the vibrations of Kaidoh's touches each keep getting more and more intensified.
Like he's a machine humming with electricity, being overloaded and static crackles everywhere.
It's everywhere; Kaidoh can't seem to stop kissing Momoshiro wherever he wants. And Momoshiro isn't about to complain, the only sounds that are coming out of his mouth are short and shallow moans. Moans he should be embarrassed about making, but it's hard to stop them, and it's hard to give a shit with Kaidoh's hand down his shorts, and his own hand rubbing and jerking as well.
If Momoshiro had any sense of shame, could take a moment to think, then maybe he wouldn't be doing this. But he is, they're both doing this as if they're under the influence of something that's preventing them from thinking too much, it's making them unable to act on their rational thoughts.
It's all instincts right now. Needs, wants, movements, a common goal of continuing this for as long as they can, striving towards that finish line. And enjoy the hell out of it.
Momoshiro throws his head back as he bites down his lips and shoves his hips against Kaidoh's hand. It's all getting so intense and so tight; Kaidoh's hand around his penis is the most pleasurable thing on earth. And even though his strokes are different from what he usually does, different from what he usually likes alone, it's all steadily building up, it's all tightening around him. He tries to do the same thing for Kaidoh, but his movements are off, and sometimes he just focuses on the feelings Kaidoh is giving him instead, being out of order for a second or so, before he remembers that Kaidoh's just as needy as he is, and wants this just as much—and Momoshiro eagerly rubs him again; he is not going to deny him this. Not like last time.
A certain pull of his skin makes Momoshiro gasp harshly because of all the tingling sensations he gets from it. So close. "Nghh." He rolls his head back to face Kaidoh again, then swiftly tilts it to the left, and his mouth is back on Kaidoh's attractive neck. On that soft area of red and hot flesh. He kisses it, sucks hard on it; the inhalation makes everything buzz inside of him, and his own sensations are enlarged and magnified—he sucks even harder, getting a satisfied reaction out of a squirmy Kaidoh.
He loves making Kaidoh act like this, if he's not busy enjoying the same feelings Kaidoh is making him experience. More, he thinks, more squirming, more sucking.
Another jerk with Kaidoh's magic hands has Momoshiro gasping against Kaidoh's neck once more in ecstasy. He can't take this anymore, so he does what he did the last time; his teeth bite down on the side of Kaidoh's neck. It helps him stay connected to Kaidoh, stay focused, and simply feel what he's feeling. Even his teeth feel sensitive. Momoshiro picks up his pace and rubs Kaidoh faster, hoping he'll match the speed, because he's getting so close. He puts more force into his bite, Kaidoh's skin satisfactorily shivering against him. Then his lips purse together and he starts to suck on it as well—just like last time. If he doesn't, he feels like he might fall off the end of the earth.
Kaidoh's sweet smelling sweat has Momoshiro reeling around lightheaded; his focus is slipping.
Kaidoh growls against Momoshiro's neck. The sting of Momoshiro's teeth against his skin is maddening, making Kaidoh feel like he's shivering all over. He realizes that he is, his entire body alert to Momoshiro's touch like it's a strong wind gusting clear through him, chilling and burning him at the same time. The sharp suction of Momoshiro's idiotic mouth feels like it's leaving scorching marks against his neck. Kaidoh thought he was so familiar with that mouth, having watched it open countless times to pour out idiotic ramblings, but now every time it opens against Kaidoh's skin, he feels something new and different and incredible, things he didn't know a person could feel.
He rocks forward in Momoshiro's lap, against his hand, against his own hand so their knuckles are pinned together for a moment and he can feel Momoshiro's hand moving along the back of his own as they both slide up and down. Kaidoh speeds up and feels Momoshiro's body tense up, and then his hand starts moving again to match him, and then it's Momoshiro speeding up and Kaidoh jerking to catch up. Kaidoh's fingers tighten around Momoshiro's erection, feeling it throb against his hand as he twists his wrist and works his hand up and down, faster and faster. The straining heat is starting to make his fingertips feel numb, simply overwhelmed with sensation.
His growl turns into a groan and he nuzzles his face against Momoshiro's dark hair, against his sweaty neck, against his bare shoulder, almost like his hiding himself there, burrowing against Momoshiro's body as he rapidly feels control slip away from him. It's not unfamiliar territory for him, to be this unrestrained. Their fights have always been like this, with both of them caught up in the moment so much they both don't hold themselves back. But now it's different. Now Kaidoh feels like he can't hold back, not even if he tried.
Momoshiro can't hold back either, in fact, it feels like he's going to burst soon. Not to mention his arm is getting tired from moving up and down so much; who knew that something like this could make him tired. But everything is giving him weird and mixed feelings. He feels exhausted, yet pumped up with all the energy in the world. His mind is hazy, but very clearly focused on only one goal; to continue.
His jaw finally relaxes, and Momoshiro pulls his teeth away from Kaidoh's skin, having bitten it raw and red. He closes his eyes and leans his head against Kaidoh's, who's buried into his own neck like he belongs there, like he owns that spot. Momoshiro isn't going to push him away though, he likes Kaidoh depending on him like this. Needing him like this. And that feeling is probably even better than the skin of his penis being rubbed up and down. Together? They make his insides scream and are tearing him down, fast and rough.
The muscles in his arm feel strained and tired, but Momoshiro doesn't want to stop, not when Kaidoh is still nuzzling against him and gasping out the most sensational sounds Momoshiro has ever heard. He doesn't want to switch hands either, since that would be an uncomfortable position, so he just sucks it up, and keeps stroking Kaidoh.
And Kaidoh keeps doing him too. They try to match each other's rhythms, and it's not that hard at all, though a bit difficult with their bodies pressed up against each other like this.
Momoshiro takes his hand away from Kaidoh's back, and slides it against his cheek, cupping it so he can gently pull him away from his neck, facing him again. Then he places his lips against Kaidoh's; hungry and hot for them. They're just so thick and moist, and glowing with warmth, Momoshiro sort of feels like a fish gaping for air the way he kisses Kaidoh; like he's his oxygen. He's all he needs.
There's a growing urge within Momoshiro, and it's speeding up. Each time Kaidoh jerks at him, he can feel his penis eagerly twitch in response. It's not going to last much longer, and Momoshiro can't do anything but suck at Kaidoh's lips, and hope he won't die from not breathing enough. He squeezes Kaidoh's penis harder, and accidentally scrapes his nails against the flesh as he pulls up.
The sudden sharp, scratching feeling against Kaidoh's penis makes him hiss out a harsh puff of air against Momoshiro's mouth and his hips snap on their own accord. His skin is so sensitive that anything Momoshiro does, even by accident, is sending sparks shooting through Kaidoh's bloodstream. He strokes Momoshiro faster, his movements becoming jerky and a lot less fluid. It's like he's losing focus on his own actions, like everything in the periphery is starting to shut down from circuit overload and he's simply zeroing in on a single goal.
Kaidoh's able to do little more than gasp against Momoshiro's lips and press his mouth hard against him like he's angry, all the while still making sounds like he's anything but. And he really isn't. He's feeling better than he has in a long time, maybe ever.
He pulls Momoshiro's bottom lip between his lips and teeth and pants hot breaths out against it before releasing and smacking his whole mouth against him, and inhaling like he's trying to suck Momoshiro inside out.
Momoshiro tries to match him, pulling away, and reeling back in, pushing his lips up against Kaidoh's. The experience is making him dizzy and exhausted, but he can't stop. He bites down on Kaidoh's bottom lip, prying it open and then he shoves his tongue in there, having a fierce wet battle with Kaidoh's tongue. It's creating sparks and they shock him each time they move—and they've moving all the time.
It's starting to get too much for Momoshiro, it's hard to sit there with Kaidoh straddling his lap, jerking him off, and tongues swirling around each other, and then not stop functioning completely from the overload of explosive feelings. But he keeps on going, because Kaidoh still is, even if both of them are becoming sloppy, unrefined, rough like they always are.
There's nothing graceful about what they're doing. But god does it feel amazing.
Momoshiro can feel the palm of Kaidoh's hand run up against him, the friction is burning, and it's making all his blood rush faster and faster. Kaidoh's tongue plays up against him, and they both keep pulling back a bit to take in a quick breath; Momoshiro is sure he's going to pass out if he doesn't breathe enough. This doesn't stop him from sucking in another deep breath, and he holds it, while all his muscles get zapped with electricity, and Kaidoh just keeps on pulling the skin up and down, over his most sensitive parts.
It starts to go down a bit in slow motion for Momoshiro. Kaidoh moves his hand just so, moans in just the right voice, and Momoshiro bites down on Kaidoh's tongue as he feels something pull through him. His hand tightens around Kaidoh's penis, and his movements have become unpredictable, he's just extremely focused on Kaidoh's hand, on his tongue, on everything he's doing to him. With just one more stroke, Momoshiro feels that incredible urge that's been building up all this time burst out of him.
He lets out a very loud and deep moan against Kaidoh's mouth with the breath he'd been holding in all this time, and he moves his hips roughly against Kaidoh's hands. A chilling rush pumps through his entire body, making his muscles twitch as he feels his penis throb with each contraction. He stops rubbing Kaidoh, leaving his mouth alone, eyes closed and face pulled into pure bliss. The warm liquid seeps over Kaidoh's hand, and onto his own stomach. He shudders and shivers; he's never felt this tired and good before.
Momoshiro sighs as all his muscles relax. He's feeling way too good to do anything but slump against Kaidoh's hot body.
Except Kaidoh is still there, still in that moment, and Momoshiro can feel his stare burning through his closed eyelids. He jerks at Momoshiro's still hard penis to get his attention, and Momoshiro finally opens his eyes again. Right.
The hand around Kaidoh's penis slips off—he's way too tired to use that arm again—and wraps his other hand around it. Momoshiro's grip is tight and fast; he wants Kaidoh to come as well. Momoshiro is still riding the waves of his orgasm, and it's only heightened by seeing Kaidoh's face screw up again as he gasps for air when he starts moving up and down.
With Momoshiro's mind more clear, and being able to focus on something else besides his throbbing penis, he looks at Kaidoh as he jerks him off faster and faster. It's a sight to behold, Momoshiro wants to keep looking at him. But he also wants to kiss him, so he does, smacking his lips against him again, while one hand runs through Kaidoh's hair and pulls at it, yanking it really. He loves seeing Kaidoh's reactions. And seeing his reaction from before, Momoshiro smirks against his lips then grazes his nails against the length of Kaidoh's penis as he pulls up again.
Kaidoh's whole body shudders and vibrates against Momoshiro when he touches him like that. Momoshiro keeps doing all these things to him that Kaidoh never knew he'd like so much. It's like Momoshiro is figuring out his secrets at the same time Kaidoh is. And now he knows just how to rile him up. Well, Momoshiro always did.
Kaidoh's hand slips down Momoshiro's shoulder onto his arm, his fingers digging deeply into his bicep, like it's all that's keeping him from tumbling over the edge. He feels Momoshiro's arm moving, stroking him faster and faster, and the touch is sending heat coursing through him each time. It just keeps building. Kaidoh feels like he's aching for release and it's close; he can feel it. Momoshiro's grip is determined. There's something about it that feels familiar, like every time Momoshiro has Kaidoh pinned to the ground during a fight and is waiting for Kaidoh's move, eager for him to react.
It's hard not to react, not when everything Momoshiro is doing seems to be pushing every one of Kaidoh's buttons. He pulls back from Momoshiro's mouth, because it's overwhelming him, because he can't breathe. His lips feel like they're tingling with anticipation. His whole body feels like it's fluttery, trembling. It's all building, and Momoshiro isn't stopping, and Momoshiro is watching, waiting, he just keeps pushing those buttons …
Momoshiro seems to feel it coming too, because he's speeding up, and he does that thing with his fingernails again, and when Kaidoh opens his eyes, he sees Momoshiro staring right at him with this weird, indiscernible look, and it's enough. No, it's too much. Kaidoh's breath speeds up into tiny, hitched gasps of air, and then stops entirely as his whole face scrunches up, lips slightly parted and wordless. His hips arch and his whole body seems to go tense and rigid for several seconds as his penis pumps against Momoshiro's fingers, emptying what feels like all of his energy into Momoshiro's hand.
Momoshiro seems to be pulling everything out of him and finally, after what feels like the longest moment in the world, Kaidoh starts breathing again, air rushing out of him in a long, aspirated sound, almost like a low whimper. And then suddenly all his muscles feel like jelly. His body feels boneless, like he's been running for days. He feels really good, and really sticky. His mind hasn't clicked back on yet. It's like he's waking up from a very good dream, and is still lingering in the hazy few minutes before his eyes open. As though he doesn't want it to end, he slumps his head forward against Momoshiro's shoulder and just sits there against him, breathing in and out.
They can only hear each other breathe at the moment, their bodies slumped against each other, and their hands covered in white stickiness. Momoshiro thinks it's kind of gross. But the moment feels too good to move, it's like it'll get ruined if either of them move an inch. And it's not like Momoshiro wants to anyway; he's still buzzing with a fluttery and exciting feeling.
So they stay like that, their hands resting in each other's laps, and their chests moving from their breathing.
Momoshiro takes his non-sticky hand out of Kaidoh's hair, then slides down his back, stroking it, lightly, comforting. Grazing over his spine, and going all the way back up to his head, where he pushes his palm against it to keep Kaidoh seated against his shoulder. Then he places one small kiss against the temple of Kaidoh's head. He doesn't know why he does it, it's just that everything is feeling so relaxing and good and comfortable and it's like he's seeing the world through rose coloured glasses. He sighs against Kaidoh's hair, his heart beat is finally slowing down.
Momoshiro could stay in this moment forever, not moving at all.
But he wipes his sticky hand off against Kaidoh's shorts anyway. That stuff is gross. He also pushes his own flaccid penis back inside of his boxers, it's kind of weird having it sit out there, a sticky sweaty mess. And because he's feeling nice, he does the same for Kaidoh's as well.
Then wipes his hand on Kaidoh's shorts some more.
Kaidoh squirms a bit in Momoshiro's lap. His whole crotch feels damp and his fingers are sticky and tingly and it's kind of disgusting. And it's suddenly weird that he's sitting on Momoshiro, pressed up against him, cheek pushed against his shoulder and face burrowing into his neck. They're so … close. It feels wrong now that they have no excuse. He should move.
Kaidoh takes a deep breath against Momoshiro's neck, smelling his sweaty hair and skin. He can hear Momoshiro breathe in, and out, and then in again. His fingers on Momoshiro's arm can feel the pulse running under Momoshiro's skin gradually slow. It doesn't feel wrong at all. In fact, it's making Kaidoh's chest feel like it's pinching, which should be painful, but isn't. It's confusing.
He raises his head and it brushes against Momoshiro's hair as he moves and looks down between them, like he's surveying the damage. Well. That's. Uh. Kaidoh feels embarrassed. He feels really embarrassed. He wipes his hand off on the leg of his shorts and pulls back from Momoshiro, his face a weird mix of emotions. Mostly nerves. He feels like he should say something, but his voice seems to be caught in his throat. The sounds that were coming out of his mouth earlier are sort of mortifying for him to think about now. What the hell do you even say after that?
Wanna do it again? Momoshiro is a bit too dizzy to think straight, but he does know that it felt incredible, and despite reality slowly sinking into him, making him aware of the situation, he wants to do it again.
Which really does make him this disgusting pervert that Kaidoh probably thinks he is.
Momoshiro dares to look at Kaidoh, perhaps to shove him off, or to pull him closer—he's not yet ready to face the consequences, can't he stay in this moment a little while longer? He sees Kaidoh looking down at the mess between them, and Momoshiro follows his gaze, until it stops at a certain fuzzy part on Kaidoh's face.
Wait—fuzzy?
There, right above Kaidoh's upper lip, is a patch of Momoshiro's freshly cut hair. Somehow it had gotten stuck on Kaidoh's face. It looks like a dumb mustache … it looks like …
"You look like fucking Hitler," is the first thing Momoshiro says after jerking eachother off and humping together against the side of the hut. But the moment is broken, the magic time is over, and now Momoshiro just thinks Kaidoh looks hilariously funny, what with his hair stuck to his lip.
So he just laughs, a heartfelt bellowing laugh erupting from his stomach.
"What the hell?" Kaidoh growls back at him, his eyebrows knitting together in a mix of irritation and confusion and his mouth pulling into tight scowl. His arm is ready before he even needs to think about it, and he throws his fist into Momoshiro's stomach, causing Momoshiro's laugh to turn into more of a choking sound. "You asshole," he says grumpily. Stupid Momoshiro. It feels like his annoying laugh is making Kaidoh's whole face tickle. It's never done that before. It's sort of weird.
Actually …
Kaidoh swipes the back of his hand over his lip and when he pulls it away there's hair clinging to his knuckles. His whole face goes red. "Oh …" he says, but the embarrassment doesn't last for long and soon he's glaring again and doing what comes naturally. Which is to argue over something stupid.
"What the fuck? What are you laughing at me for? It's your stupid hair, idiot!" he snarls, and flings the hair at Momoshiro's face, then knocks his fist into Momoshiro's chin for good measure. But this time not hard enough to really hurt.
"Asshole!" Momoshiro squeaks out. His stomach hurts, and his jaw hurts too, so he growls at Kaidoh and finally pushes him off of him, giving one forceful shove against his naked sweaty chest. Kaidoh topples off of him, and Momoshiro quickly wipes away the hair stuck on his cheek that Kaidoh flung at him.
Having no more weight on top of him, Momoshiro is able to move freely, so he finally pulls away from the log underneath the hut. He can feel his skin sticking to it, but he can also feel something else … something's stuck in his back. He gets up and tries to crane his neck around so he can look at his own back, but Momoshiro is an idiot, not an owl, so he sees nothing. But it stings like a bitch.
"Did you do something weird to me?" Momoshiro asks as he's still busy trying to look at his own back. He doesn't realize how his own words sound like, but his stomach is hurting, his back hurts, and his shorts are a mess—he doesn't really care at the moment what he sounds like.
Momoshiro finally stops looking at his own back (he's been spinning around in circles), stops since he's a bit lightheaded (and that punch still hurt!), and looks down at Kaidoh sitting down in the sand. The gravity of the situation finally kicks in as his eyes flicker over Kaidoh, whose body is sweaty everywhere, red in random places, but mostly his face, and he's snarling at Momoshiro, but that snarl doesn't look dangerous at all. It almost looks endearing when he's got two bitemarks on both sides of his neck, his hair is unkempt, and his lips look like they've been through one hell of a time. Oh, and there's stains on his white shorts. Not that his are clean … or his stomach. Momoshiro inconspicuously tries to wipe it off with the back of his hand, looking indignantly at Kaidoh.
And there's still a bit of hair left above his upper lip, which is kind of funny, but Momoshiro tries to keep his laughs to himself.
Kaidoh stops snarling and pulls himself to his feet, grimacing at the sticky state of his shorts. It's really embarrassing. He wants to wash his clothes, and himself. He wipes his hand over his face again, managing to swipe away the last of Momoshiro's stupid clingy bits of hair, and unconsciously rubbing at his lips as he does. They're still really tingly, and feel kind of raw from Momoshiro's relentless mouth. That's also kind of embarrassing, but kind of … nice, too.
Kaidoh has to force himself to stop touching his mouth, and drops his hand and looks at Momoshiro, who's just finished spinning around like an idiot. Kaidoh gives him a questioning look. What's he doing? What's he talking about? Did Kaidoh do something weird to him? The question makes Kaidoh shiver, but Momoshiro doesn't seem to be talking about … that. After all, he wouldn't need to ask about that. He was there when it happened just now. He knows exactly what Kaidoh did to him.
So … what does he mean? What was with the spinning?
"Let me see," Kaidoh says, and puts his hands on Momoshiro's shoulders to turn him around, trying to figure out what Momoshiro was looking for. It doesn't take long. It's kind of hard to miss. There's a splinter of wood from the pillar wedged into his back, just below his shoulder blades. It's pretty big, kind of long and narrow. Kaidoh inhales a sharp, sympathetic hiss, because that must hurt.
"It's a splinter," he explains, and his hands leave Momoshiro's shoulders to trail down toward the center of his back. "Hold still," he warns. "I'll try and pull it out."
"Wait—what?" Momoshiro squeaks out. But he can't protest anything else because in one swift moment, Kaidoh's pulled the thing out of his back, and Momoshiro squirms and screams out loud from the stinging pain.
"Fuck! Geez! Whatever happened to counting!?" he yells at Kaidoh. His back is throbbing in pain right now, and that sort of pain didn't feel as good as when Kaidoh caused it, scratching him all over. Actually, now that he's got a good look at his own chest, it's not that he's red from blushing … they're red trail marks from scratching. It's everywhere. And now that makes him blush. His arm looks very bruised too; Kaidoh's been keeping a firm grip on it all this time.
Momoshiro can't believe what they just did.
But it did, and it really did feel good. And by god does he want this to happen again, but this is Kaidoh. What if … What if he … Well, at least he didn't run off like last time, so that's an improvement. Momoshiro stares at the sand below him, seeing the rough prints their bodies left behind as they … did that, the bucket kicked over, hair scattered all over the place, and Kaidoh's shirt and bandana lying near his feet. He bends down to grab the black tank top; it's sweaty and crinkled. He clutches it in his hand a bit, before he turns around to Kaidoh and hands it over to him.
"Uhh, here. It's a bit hairy though," says Momoshiro. He spots a few locks of his own hair stuck on it. It's a bit embarrassing, but he can't show that to Kaidoh, not when they're facing each other, with sticky shorts, and both know exactly what they just did. He looks at Kaidoh, eyes determined and slightly narrowed, as if he's waiting for Kaidoh to look back at him with the same eyes, to have that same look of approval and agreement that this shall never be mentioned out loud.
But hopefully they may do it again. Momoshiro sure hopes it will. Which is also really confusing to him, but at the moment, any sort of doubt or weirdness from this situation is pushed to the back of his mind; he doesn't want to run off again like last time.
Kaidoh grabs his shirt out of Momoshiro's hand and holds it limply in front of him. He looks up for a moment, at Momoshiro, and then back down at the sand.
"Thanks," he says quietly. What a dumb thing to say. He shakes the tank top off, sending bits of hair flying into the air, then he picks up his bandana from the ground as well. He doesn't put it back on his head though, even though his hair is a complete mess. Instead he just unties the knot and absentmindedly starts folding the cloth up again. It gives him something to do with his hands. And it keeps him from looking back up at Momoshiro's chest where he can see all the other things he's done with his hands, because that's kind of—no, not kind of, very—embarrassing. Shit. Did he really do all that?
He looks back at Momoshiro and hisses. He's definitely not about to acknowledge that. His eyes flick to Momoshiro's mouth. Or that. Then his gaze drifts a bit lower. Or … He sucks in a breath. Yeah. No, definitely not that. At least not out loud. He'd rather die.
Stop being so awkward, Momoshiro wants to tell him, but he's feeling kind of embarrassed too. Way too exposed. He's got nothing to cover up with; nothing but his white shorts which are stained embarrassingly. Then he spots the bucket kicked over in the sand, and hops over to it, lifting it up to …
… cover it in front of his crotch.
It's lame. It's stupid. Momoshiro's cheeks flush with red.
"So …" Momoshiro says in a tiny squeaky voice. "That was a good haircut." Oh god he wants to punch himself.
Kaidoh snorts, if only to distract from how much he's blushing, how awkward he feels. He wants to punch Momoshiro too. He wants him to shut up. Or maybe just keep talking, because at least Momoshiro is able to, which is more than Kaidoh can say for himself. All he can manage to do is make weird hissing and grumbling sounds. It's annoying. He should say something. Things shouldn't be this quiet.
"Idiot," he huffs. Surprisingly, it does make him feel a little better.
"Dumbass." Momoshiro looks up at him with puffed out cheeks.
Kaidoh narrows his eyes at him, but he's having a hard time looking angry because Momoshiro just looks really ridiculous right now. Which makes Kaidoh feel a little relieved. It takes his mind off all the more embarrassing thoughts he could be having, because it reminds him that Momoshiro's an idiot and he's still an idiot even after all that.
"Moron," Kaidoh says, but this time in a tone almost like he's giving a compliment rather than an insult.
Momoshiro sticks out his tongue at Kaidoh. A childish act, but what else can he do? He throws the bucket down into the sand, before promptly turning around, taking steps towards the hut.
"I'm gonna get changed," he says. "You should too."
"Yeah," Kaidoh agrees, his voice sounding automatic and mechanical, because it's a little awkward to talk so casually about changing out of their disgusting, sticky shorts. But Kaidoh's not about to call attention to it. Hell no. He'll just act like everything's totally normal, like this is just a usual thing for them …
Kaidoh blinks.
Could this be a usual thing for them? Is that … something that could happen? The thought makes Kaidoh's skin prickle.
Momoshiro tries to look confident in his walk, and not like he's got spaghetti noodles as his legs, and he's wobbling, walking with them spread apart, so that his stickiness doesn't touch his skin. He looks like a stupid spider. But he holds his head up high as he enters back inside of the hut. He can do this. They can do this.
It'll be fine. Even if it's forceful and still embarrassing, as long as neither of them are running away, or not talking, then it should be fine. Momoshiro watches Kaidoh enter in the hut as well. It's an awkward five minutes of staring at the wall as they both clean into new boxers and shorts, ones that aren't stained. Momoshiro shoves the dirty ones underneath his blanket so it can't ever be found again, like it's his dirty little secret.
Kaidoh is his dirty little secret.
Momoshiro looks at Kaidoh, who is tying on his bandana. It's all so frighteningly normal. Maybe normal enough for them to do this again. Because that's all what's on Momoshiro's mind right now.
It can be their dirty little secret.