Maxine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maxine_chan) wrote2006-11-14 06:39 am
maxine_chan) wrote2006-11-14 06:39 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Kiss the Rain (complete)
Right, so...this is NOT the fic that I was saying I was going to post for you all. >.> This. Well. I really have no idea where this came from. It just kind of popped into my head and then wrote itself. It's also in a completely different style then how I usually write. Yay? lol, enjoy! ^.^
Also, pay no attention to the title. It wouldn't leave me alone. Isn't it a song or something?
Title: Kiss the Rain
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Momoshiro/Kamio
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Which sucks. Woe.
Length: 3300 words
Summary: Rain rain, go away, come again another day. Plus smexin'. :P
~~Kiss the Rain~~
The first time they kiss, it’s Kamio’s idea. Sort of.
“Oi, Momoshiro!” he snaps, trying to get the other boy’s attention. Except Momo’s attention is focused elsewhere as he watches An run off the court, yelling something about her brother and waving her cellphone. “Momoshiro!” Kamio tries again, and it’s only after An disappears around the corner that Momo jerks his gaze back to the other boy.
“What?” he asks, eyes wide and clueless as ever. It infuriates Kamio enough that he stomps up to the net, reaching out and grabbing Momo’s shirt to pull him forward. “Stop bothering An-chan!” he demands, twisting his hand around worn-out cotton and bringing Momo even closer. “Who gave you permission to call her?!”
“She called me!” Momo protests, trying to pull away. It makes Kamio even more mad and he yanks again so that now their noses are practically touching. “What the hell’s your problem, Kamio?!”
“An-chan is off-limits,” Kamio growls, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach doing a weird sort of clenching thing. “Find someone else to crush on.”
Momo pauses, eyes snapping towards Kamio, his breathing heavy. “Yeah?” he says. “Like who?”
And then there’s an odd sort of pause where everything goes still and Kamio’s heart is still pounding and he shuffles his feet, and then the next thing he knows he’s given Momo’s shirt a final tug forward and is slamming their mouths together. Momo freezes up instantly but he doesn’t pull away or struggle and that encourages Kamio even though he doesn’t really want to be encouraged because what the hell is he doing?
But then all at once Momo relaxes and suddenly there are hands in his hair and a warm, slick mouth opening to his and Kamio forgets to hold onto Momo’s shirt and instead has to push up on his toes when Momo straightens a bit. He forgets there’s a net between them and when he tries to move forward it catches him off guard, causing him to stumble and break away, which sucks because now he has to actually look at Momo and his stupid wide, clueless eyes and figure out what exactly just happened.
Momo takes a step back, his hands falling away and his cheeks red and for some reason Kamio feels like he’s just been shot through with ice. Standing there awkwardly is too mortifying and Kamio doesn’t think either of them is going to say something anytime soon, so he doesn’t wait for it to happen. Instead he turns and runs out of the park, and never has he been so grateful that he was gifted with speed.
* * *
The second time they kiss, it’s Momo’s idea.
It’s over a week later and Kamio has been avoiding the street courts like the plague until Shinji manages to drag him back one day. The clouds are grey and it looks like rain, so Kamio only goes under the hope that the bad weather with drive them away soon.
Instead what happens is a doubles match, he and Shinji versus Momoshiro and Echizen. They don’t even finish because Shinji’s mother calls him halfway through and he has to run home. Kamio curses, trying to figure out why he came, why he’s still here now that Shinji’s abandoned him, and he doesn’t even notice when Momo tells Echizen to go on without him.
“Kamio,” Momo says suddenly, and it’s all Kamio can do to keep from panicking when he realizes they’re the only two left on the court.
“What?” he snaps, fiddling with his bag, testing the tension on his racket, doing everything possible so that he doesn’t have to look up.
“What was that?” Momo asks. “The other day?” The straightforward question startles Kamio and he’s left floundering for an answer as Momo watches carefully.
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about!” Kamio says loudly, throwing things into his bag so he can make a quick escape.
Momo jumps the net before he can leave, rushing over to him. “Yes you do!” he says sharply, and Kamio looks at him properly for the first time, looks at his clenched fists and narrowed eyes. His flushed cheeks.
“I don’t-”
“Then I’ll remind you!”
And then there’s a fist in his shirt, hauling him up from the ground and pulling him close and Kamio has about two seconds to register what exactly is going on before he finds Momo’s mouth on his and they’re kissing again. Momo wastes no time in delving into it this time and Kamio freaks out for a second before Momo relaxes slightly, and then it’s not so bad and the tongue in his mouth is actually quite welcoming.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but the clouds have grown darker and Kamio hopes it’s because of the hour, because suddenly he doesn’t want the rain to interrupt them.
* * *
The first time they go beyond kissing, it kinda sorta might be Momo’s idea, but he swears he’ll deny that until he dies.
They’re at the street courts again, because that’s basically the only place they ever see each other (and if they’re both going more and more frequently, well, they’ll deny that, too), and for some reason they’re the only ones there. It might be because of the chill breeze that whips through the trees or because the days have gotten shorter and the dwindling hours of daylight don’t leave much time for tennis, but both of them are nothing if not stubborn. Their game isn’t over even by the time the streetlights come on, so they keep thwacking the ball back and forth until it’s nearly impossible to see anymore. When Momo makes a wild swing at nothing before the ball has even made it over the net to his side of the court, they know it’s time to call it quits.
“Maaa, I don’t want to go home yet,” Momo complains as they pack up their rackets. “It’s not even that late.”
“We could do something else?” Kamio suggests absently. He fiddles with his mp3 player, checking to see how much of the battery is left, and it takes him a moment to notice that Momo hasn’t said anything. “Momoshiro?”
Momo is fidgeting, chewing slightly on his bottom lip, and when Kamio glances up at him he makes a sort of twitchy shrugging gesture. “There’s no one else here,” he says.
Kamio stands, shouldering his tennis bag, and narrows his eyes. “What the hell, am I boring you or something?”
“No!” Momo exclaims. “That’s not what I meant. Just…” He shrugs again, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and then suddenly he’s grabbing Kamio’s shoulders and pushing him up against the cement wall.
Kamio’s eyes go wide. “Momo--” he starts to say, but is swiftly interrupted by the other’s mouth on his own. He wants to protest just for propriety’s sake, but then Momo presses in closer and all thoughts of stopping fly from Kamio’s head.
It’s different than usual. He's got his arms around Momo’s neck and Momo’s hands are twisted in his shirt, but then those same hands are moving, slipping beneath the cotton and brushing along his stomach. It startles him, but not in a bad way so he merely moans into the kiss, thrusting his pelvis out almost unconsciously.
Then a hand runs along the clasp of his jeans, and he knows something’s about to change.
Kamio breaks away, panting heavily, and in the dim glow of the streetlights he can only just make out the features of Momo’s face. He finds his eyes and they stare at each other for a second, before Momo undoes the clasp and dips his fingers beneath the waistband of Kamio’s underwear. Kamio swallows nervously, and when Momo’s hand closes around him, it’s all he can do to keep from crying out.
“M-Momoshiro!” he chokes, arching off the wall, his feet sliding father apart. Momo tightens his hand and Kamio can’t think anymore, can’t concentrate on anything but the rough warmth of Momo’s grip. His head tips back for a second until Momo leans forward to kiss the side of his neck, and then he jumps and shudders and his hips jerk out again, and Momo just chuckles. Kamio wants to smack him or punch him or something, but instead he settles for shoving a hand down Momo’s pants as well.
The other boy makes a strangled sound, surging forward against Kamio’s grip, and just the idea of having this sort of power over another person makes Kamio go hot all over again. Then they’re pulling at each other, hips thrusting forward, Momo’s leg slipping in between Kamio’s and vice versa. It feels almost like every other time they’ve played tennis. Which one of them can jerk the other off first? Who will win?
And then Momo’s hand twists and Kamio’s belly tightens and he reaches out to pull Momo’s face down to his. They’re still kissing when he shudders, release hitting him full force and tearing a groan from his throat, and he’d be worried he just lost except that he feels the same wetness seeping through his own fingers, and he realizes he has no idea who came first.
Not that it matters. There are some things he doesn’t mind losing at.
* * *
The first time they, to put it politely, go all the way, it’s definitely not Kamio’s idea.
“You want to what?” Kamio splutters, pulling away so quickly he nearly falls off the bed. They’re in Kamio’s house, alone in his room, which is much better than being at Momo’s house where his siblings are always running in and out just to bother him.
“Can’t we?” Momo says, looking eager. “It could be fun, right?”
Kamio splutters some more. “NO!” he exclaims, jumping up and holding a pillow in front of him like a shield, as if that will help protect his maidenly virtue or something. He lost his shirt nearly fifteen minutes ago and he kind of wishes he could put it back on now.
“Why not?” Momo pouts, which he really shouldn’t do because it makes Kamio want to go over there and--
“Momoshiro!” he snaps, taking another step back instead. “Why the hell would we do that, it’s sick!”
“It’s not sick!” Momo protests. He flails his hand about randomly. “It’s the natural progression of…THINGS. And stuff.”
“Things and stuff,” Kamio repeats flatly, not at all impressed. He holds the pillow more tightly in front of him. “My mother is downstairs.”
“Your door is locked,” Momo points out, grinning. “And she never comes in anyway.” Which is true, but Kamio knows that the second his pants come off it’ll be the first time his mom has barged into his room without knocking in a good three years. Just to spite him.
Unfortunately now he’s thinking about it, and it’s making his stomach swoop uncomfortably as his cheeks go hot. His fingers dig into the pillow.
Momo blinks, and then laughs at him. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he says, and now Kamio doesn’t have a shield anymore because he’s just whipped the pillow at Momo’s stupid head.
“Get out!” he screams, pointing towards the door. He’s still blushing and whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or because he’s still thinking about that he’s not sure, but either way it’s mortifying. Momo just grins at him some more, leaning back on the bed, and Kamio really wishes they both still had their shirts on.
“No!” Momo says cheerfully. Kamio just barely refrains from strangling him. “You’re still thinking about it.”
“Well now I can’t help it!”
“So let’s do it!”
And for some reason, Kamio doesn’t say no right away. He hesitates, tossing the idea around in his mind, and doesn’t even notice Momo suddenly standing in front of him.
“You want to,” he says, to which Kamio practically growls at him. But then Momo kisses him before he can refuse again, and somehow turns him around and pushes him towards the bed.
Kamio breaks away when he feels the back of his knees hit the mattress. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asks, which is so far from ‘HELL NO’ that it shocks him for a second.
“How hard can it be?” Momo asks, pushing him down. Kamio later realizes that maybe this should have been a sign, but right now he’s too preoccupied with staring at the tube of lube Momo has just pulled from his backpack to care about it.
“Were you planning this?” he asks, running his hands down Momo’s back and lifting his hips so that his pants can be tugged off.
“For awhile now,” Momo admits with a sheepish grin. Kamio wants to yell at him some more, but the honest answer throws him off and instead he snaps his mouth shut and glances to the side.
“You could have mentioned that earlier,” he mutters, and then Momo kisses him before he can say anything else.
It starts out awkwardly and not a little painfully, which makes Kamio tense and snappish and Momo flustered and embarrassed.
“Relax,” Momo says for about the fifth time in the past minute, and Kamio would scream at him but he’s too busy clenching his teeth and trying to adjust to pay him any mind.
“What the hell,” he says, voice choked and eyes squeezed shut. “And people do this for fun?”
“Maybe I’m doing it wrong,” Momo says helplessly. He pushes in further, panting, and Kamio winces and does his best to ignore the burning.
“Just – Move. Do something!”
“Give me a second!”
Kamio’s impatient, though, and he also can’t stand being on his back like this. It makes him feel vulnerable almost, so he takes the initiative, surging up and over and flipping Momo onto his back. Momo’s eyes go wide and he sits halfway up, but by then Kamio has repositioned himself and it only causes Momo to slide in further than he was before. It sends a weird shock up Kamio’s spine and he gasps, arms wrapping about Momo’s neck and his head falling forward.
“What?” Momo says quickly, hands dropping to just above Kamio’s arse and holding him in place. “You okay?”
Kamio nods shakily, taking deep breaths, and hesitantly moves again. The same little jolt runs through him, and suddenly the pain doesn’t seem so bad anymore. In fact, it’s fading quickly the more Kamio moves, so he doesn’t stop. He can hear Momo panting beneath him, the other boy’s nails digging into his skin as he pulls him even closer. Kamio draws his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard as the heat collects and coils and spreads through his body.
“Fuck,” he hisses, reaching down between them and wrapping a hand around himself. Momo thrusts up again and Kamio gasps, his eyes falling shut.
“I knew you’d like it,” Momo says in between deep gulps of air. Kamio grits his teeth but can think of nothing to say and instead draws Momo in for a deep kiss.
“Shut up,” he mumbles when they break apart, and Momo merely grins at him as he speeds up. They keep a quick pace for a few minutes longer, until Kamio’s thighs start to clench up and he begins to feel sore in places he didn’t even know he had. The tension is building and he keeps his hand moving as a multitude of whimpers and groans fall from his lips. He’d be embarrassed if Momo wasn’t making his own sort of grunting noises.
There is a brief moment when it all begins to feel like too much, when his senses are overloading and he’s balancing precariously on the edge, and then Momo jerks up just as he’s coming down, and everything snaps into place. The world goes white and Kamio falls, tumbling through his orgasm with his arms around Momo’s back and his face pressed against Momo’s shoulder. He goes boneless immediately afterwards, slumping forward and sucking down air like he’s been held under water for too long.
Momo falls back onto the bed, sliding out of Kamio and pulling him down with him, and either Kamio does a very good job of hiding his wince or Momo is just being tactful for once in his life. His back aches, his thighs are sore, he feels almost like he’s been rubbed raw in places…
But he’s also never felt this sated in his entire life.
It’s kind of gross, though, being held tight against another person when both of them are still sweaty and sticky. But Kamio can’t be bothered to move, or maybe he’s just afraid that the aches will be sharper if he does.
…Or maybe it’s really not that bad, having Momo’s arm around him like this.
“Alright?” Momo murmurs around a yawn.
“Alright,” Kamio mutters back. He hopes his mother doesn’t decide to check up on them anytime soon.
“I did good, right?” Momo says, smirking.
Kamio frowns. “Momoshiro?”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
* * *
When they come out to everyone, it’s really kind of by accident.
“Momoshiro!” Kamio shouts, stomping up to the other boy. They’re at the street courts again, and there’s actually some people milling about even though the sky looks grey with rain.
Momo turns from his conversation with An, a sheepish look already on his face. “She called me!” he says instantly, holding up his hands. He continues in a rush, “I was going to call you but she said you were already here so I figured I would just meet you here and then I ran into her a couple blocks away and that’s the only reason we showed up together I am NOT flirting with her!”
Kamio blinks, wondering if he should try to decipher whatever Momo has just babbled at him, and then decides it would take too much effort. “An-chan is off-limits!” he says instead, smacking Momo with his tennis bag. “How many times do I have to tell you that?!” He hits him again, and then once more just because he can.
“Stop it!” Momo cries, arms held up in front of him to block the attacks. “There’s no need to get jealous!”
“I AM NOT JEALOUS!” Kamio explodes, and then realizes a second later that, actually, he is. And that’s an extremely disturbing thought. He falters in the middle of hitting Momo again, and Momo takes advantage of the pause to swoop in, hook his arm around Kamio’s neck, and draw him in for a kiss.
For a second, Kamio is too shocked and horrified to move. He vaguely hears An gasp and thinks Echizen might have made a startled sound somewhere in the background. He can hear Shinji mumbling and he’s pretty sure Kaidoh just fell off the benches a couple of feet away, and why all these people had to be here today of all days, why Momo just had to kiss him, he doesn’t know. But he also doesn’t pull away.
In fact, as Momo slips his tongue past Kamio’s lips, he decides that everyone else can just go to hell, and he kisses him back.
Then suddenly the clouds break and the rain starts to fall. Kamio hears everyone else yelping and running for cover, but he’s too busy tightening his arms around Momo’s neck to care.
The rain is cold and it doesn’t stop. If anything, it just pours harder, but at least it keeps everyone else away.
Momo and Kamio don’t bother stopping either.
FIN
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Aaaand CUT. That's a wrap.
More fic coming soon! The one that I was SUPPOSED to be writing. ^.~
~Maxine
P.S. Please feel free to admire my gorgeous icon, made by TEH LOFFLYsaillant. *________* And then please to be promptly writing me some Akazawa/Mizuki fic, yes? No, seriously. Write me some.
...Please? :D
Also, pay no attention to the title. It wouldn't leave me alone. Isn't it a song or something?
Title: Kiss the Rain
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Momoshiro/Kamio
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Which sucks. Woe.
Length: 3300 words
Summary: Rain rain, go away, come again another day. Plus smexin'. :P
~~Kiss the Rain~~
The first time they kiss, it’s Kamio’s idea. Sort of.
“Oi, Momoshiro!” he snaps, trying to get the other boy’s attention. Except Momo’s attention is focused elsewhere as he watches An run off the court, yelling something about her brother and waving her cellphone. “Momoshiro!” Kamio tries again, and it’s only after An disappears around the corner that Momo jerks his gaze back to the other boy.
“What?” he asks, eyes wide and clueless as ever. It infuriates Kamio enough that he stomps up to the net, reaching out and grabbing Momo’s shirt to pull him forward. “Stop bothering An-chan!” he demands, twisting his hand around worn-out cotton and bringing Momo even closer. “Who gave you permission to call her?!”
“She called me!” Momo protests, trying to pull away. It makes Kamio even more mad and he yanks again so that now their noses are practically touching. “What the hell’s your problem, Kamio?!”
“An-chan is off-limits,” Kamio growls, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach doing a weird sort of clenching thing. “Find someone else to crush on.”
Momo pauses, eyes snapping towards Kamio, his breathing heavy. “Yeah?” he says. “Like who?”
And then there’s an odd sort of pause where everything goes still and Kamio’s heart is still pounding and he shuffles his feet, and then the next thing he knows he’s given Momo’s shirt a final tug forward and is slamming their mouths together. Momo freezes up instantly but he doesn’t pull away or struggle and that encourages Kamio even though he doesn’t really want to be encouraged because what the hell is he doing?
But then all at once Momo relaxes and suddenly there are hands in his hair and a warm, slick mouth opening to his and Kamio forgets to hold onto Momo’s shirt and instead has to push up on his toes when Momo straightens a bit. He forgets there’s a net between them and when he tries to move forward it catches him off guard, causing him to stumble and break away, which sucks because now he has to actually look at Momo and his stupid wide, clueless eyes and figure out what exactly just happened.
Momo takes a step back, his hands falling away and his cheeks red and for some reason Kamio feels like he’s just been shot through with ice. Standing there awkwardly is too mortifying and Kamio doesn’t think either of them is going to say something anytime soon, so he doesn’t wait for it to happen. Instead he turns and runs out of the park, and never has he been so grateful that he was gifted with speed.
* * *
The second time they kiss, it’s Momo’s idea.
It’s over a week later and Kamio has been avoiding the street courts like the plague until Shinji manages to drag him back one day. The clouds are grey and it looks like rain, so Kamio only goes under the hope that the bad weather with drive them away soon.
Instead what happens is a doubles match, he and Shinji versus Momoshiro and Echizen. They don’t even finish because Shinji’s mother calls him halfway through and he has to run home. Kamio curses, trying to figure out why he came, why he’s still here now that Shinji’s abandoned him, and he doesn’t even notice when Momo tells Echizen to go on without him.
“Kamio,” Momo says suddenly, and it’s all Kamio can do to keep from panicking when he realizes they’re the only two left on the court.
“What?” he snaps, fiddling with his bag, testing the tension on his racket, doing everything possible so that he doesn’t have to look up.
“What was that?” Momo asks. “The other day?” The straightforward question startles Kamio and he’s left floundering for an answer as Momo watches carefully.
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about!” Kamio says loudly, throwing things into his bag so he can make a quick escape.
Momo jumps the net before he can leave, rushing over to him. “Yes you do!” he says sharply, and Kamio looks at him properly for the first time, looks at his clenched fists and narrowed eyes. His flushed cheeks.
“I don’t-”
“Then I’ll remind you!”
And then there’s a fist in his shirt, hauling him up from the ground and pulling him close and Kamio has about two seconds to register what exactly is going on before he finds Momo’s mouth on his and they’re kissing again. Momo wastes no time in delving into it this time and Kamio freaks out for a second before Momo relaxes slightly, and then it’s not so bad and the tongue in his mouth is actually quite welcoming.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but the clouds have grown darker and Kamio hopes it’s because of the hour, because suddenly he doesn’t want the rain to interrupt them.
* * *
The first time they go beyond kissing, it kinda sorta might be Momo’s idea, but he swears he’ll deny that until he dies.
They’re at the street courts again, because that’s basically the only place they ever see each other (and if they’re both going more and more frequently, well, they’ll deny that, too), and for some reason they’re the only ones there. It might be because of the chill breeze that whips through the trees or because the days have gotten shorter and the dwindling hours of daylight don’t leave much time for tennis, but both of them are nothing if not stubborn. Their game isn’t over even by the time the streetlights come on, so they keep thwacking the ball back and forth until it’s nearly impossible to see anymore. When Momo makes a wild swing at nothing before the ball has even made it over the net to his side of the court, they know it’s time to call it quits.
“Maaa, I don’t want to go home yet,” Momo complains as they pack up their rackets. “It’s not even that late.”
“We could do something else?” Kamio suggests absently. He fiddles with his mp3 player, checking to see how much of the battery is left, and it takes him a moment to notice that Momo hasn’t said anything. “Momoshiro?”
Momo is fidgeting, chewing slightly on his bottom lip, and when Kamio glances up at him he makes a sort of twitchy shrugging gesture. “There’s no one else here,” he says.
Kamio stands, shouldering his tennis bag, and narrows his eyes. “What the hell, am I boring you or something?”
“No!” Momo exclaims. “That’s not what I meant. Just…” He shrugs again, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and then suddenly he’s grabbing Kamio’s shoulders and pushing him up against the cement wall.
Kamio’s eyes go wide. “Momo--” he starts to say, but is swiftly interrupted by the other’s mouth on his own. He wants to protest just for propriety’s sake, but then Momo presses in closer and all thoughts of stopping fly from Kamio’s head.
It’s different than usual. He's got his arms around Momo’s neck and Momo’s hands are twisted in his shirt, but then those same hands are moving, slipping beneath the cotton and brushing along his stomach. It startles him, but not in a bad way so he merely moans into the kiss, thrusting his pelvis out almost unconsciously.
Then a hand runs along the clasp of his jeans, and he knows something’s about to change.
Kamio breaks away, panting heavily, and in the dim glow of the streetlights he can only just make out the features of Momo’s face. He finds his eyes and they stare at each other for a second, before Momo undoes the clasp and dips his fingers beneath the waistband of Kamio’s underwear. Kamio swallows nervously, and when Momo’s hand closes around him, it’s all he can do to keep from crying out.
“M-Momoshiro!” he chokes, arching off the wall, his feet sliding father apart. Momo tightens his hand and Kamio can’t think anymore, can’t concentrate on anything but the rough warmth of Momo’s grip. His head tips back for a second until Momo leans forward to kiss the side of his neck, and then he jumps and shudders and his hips jerk out again, and Momo just chuckles. Kamio wants to smack him or punch him or something, but instead he settles for shoving a hand down Momo’s pants as well.
The other boy makes a strangled sound, surging forward against Kamio’s grip, and just the idea of having this sort of power over another person makes Kamio go hot all over again. Then they’re pulling at each other, hips thrusting forward, Momo’s leg slipping in between Kamio’s and vice versa. It feels almost like every other time they’ve played tennis. Which one of them can jerk the other off first? Who will win?
And then Momo’s hand twists and Kamio’s belly tightens and he reaches out to pull Momo’s face down to his. They’re still kissing when he shudders, release hitting him full force and tearing a groan from his throat, and he’d be worried he just lost except that he feels the same wetness seeping through his own fingers, and he realizes he has no idea who came first.
Not that it matters. There are some things he doesn’t mind losing at.
* * *
The first time they, to put it politely, go all the way, it’s definitely not Kamio’s idea.
“You want to what?” Kamio splutters, pulling away so quickly he nearly falls off the bed. They’re in Kamio’s house, alone in his room, which is much better than being at Momo’s house where his siblings are always running in and out just to bother him.
“Can’t we?” Momo says, looking eager. “It could be fun, right?”
Kamio splutters some more. “NO!” he exclaims, jumping up and holding a pillow in front of him like a shield, as if that will help protect his maidenly virtue or something. He lost his shirt nearly fifteen minutes ago and he kind of wishes he could put it back on now.
“Why not?” Momo pouts, which he really shouldn’t do because it makes Kamio want to go over there and--
“Momoshiro!” he snaps, taking another step back instead. “Why the hell would we do that, it’s sick!”
“It’s not sick!” Momo protests. He flails his hand about randomly. “It’s the natural progression of…THINGS. And stuff.”
“Things and stuff,” Kamio repeats flatly, not at all impressed. He holds the pillow more tightly in front of him. “My mother is downstairs.”
“Your door is locked,” Momo points out, grinning. “And she never comes in anyway.” Which is true, but Kamio knows that the second his pants come off it’ll be the first time his mom has barged into his room without knocking in a good three years. Just to spite him.
Unfortunately now he’s thinking about it, and it’s making his stomach swoop uncomfortably as his cheeks go hot. His fingers dig into the pillow.
Momo blinks, and then laughs at him. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he says, and now Kamio doesn’t have a shield anymore because he’s just whipped the pillow at Momo’s stupid head.
“Get out!” he screams, pointing towards the door. He’s still blushing and whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or because he’s still thinking about that he’s not sure, but either way it’s mortifying. Momo just grins at him some more, leaning back on the bed, and Kamio really wishes they both still had their shirts on.
“No!” Momo says cheerfully. Kamio just barely refrains from strangling him. “You’re still thinking about it.”
“Well now I can’t help it!”
“So let’s do it!”
And for some reason, Kamio doesn’t say no right away. He hesitates, tossing the idea around in his mind, and doesn’t even notice Momo suddenly standing in front of him.
“You want to,” he says, to which Kamio practically growls at him. But then Momo kisses him before he can refuse again, and somehow turns him around and pushes him towards the bed.
Kamio breaks away when he feels the back of his knees hit the mattress. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asks, which is so far from ‘HELL NO’ that it shocks him for a second.
“How hard can it be?” Momo asks, pushing him down. Kamio later realizes that maybe this should have been a sign, but right now he’s too preoccupied with staring at the tube of lube Momo has just pulled from his backpack to care about it.
“Were you planning this?” he asks, running his hands down Momo’s back and lifting his hips so that his pants can be tugged off.
“For awhile now,” Momo admits with a sheepish grin. Kamio wants to yell at him some more, but the honest answer throws him off and instead he snaps his mouth shut and glances to the side.
“You could have mentioned that earlier,” he mutters, and then Momo kisses him before he can say anything else.
It starts out awkwardly and not a little painfully, which makes Kamio tense and snappish and Momo flustered and embarrassed.
“Relax,” Momo says for about the fifth time in the past minute, and Kamio would scream at him but he’s too busy clenching his teeth and trying to adjust to pay him any mind.
“What the hell,” he says, voice choked and eyes squeezed shut. “And people do this for fun?”
“Maybe I’m doing it wrong,” Momo says helplessly. He pushes in further, panting, and Kamio winces and does his best to ignore the burning.
“Just – Move. Do something!”
“Give me a second!”
Kamio’s impatient, though, and he also can’t stand being on his back like this. It makes him feel vulnerable almost, so he takes the initiative, surging up and over and flipping Momo onto his back. Momo’s eyes go wide and he sits halfway up, but by then Kamio has repositioned himself and it only causes Momo to slide in further than he was before. It sends a weird shock up Kamio’s spine and he gasps, arms wrapping about Momo’s neck and his head falling forward.
“What?” Momo says quickly, hands dropping to just above Kamio’s arse and holding him in place. “You okay?”
Kamio nods shakily, taking deep breaths, and hesitantly moves again. The same little jolt runs through him, and suddenly the pain doesn’t seem so bad anymore. In fact, it’s fading quickly the more Kamio moves, so he doesn’t stop. He can hear Momo panting beneath him, the other boy’s nails digging into his skin as he pulls him even closer. Kamio draws his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard as the heat collects and coils and spreads through his body.
“Fuck,” he hisses, reaching down between them and wrapping a hand around himself. Momo thrusts up again and Kamio gasps, his eyes falling shut.
“I knew you’d like it,” Momo says in between deep gulps of air. Kamio grits his teeth but can think of nothing to say and instead draws Momo in for a deep kiss.
“Shut up,” he mumbles when they break apart, and Momo merely grins at him as he speeds up. They keep a quick pace for a few minutes longer, until Kamio’s thighs start to clench up and he begins to feel sore in places he didn’t even know he had. The tension is building and he keeps his hand moving as a multitude of whimpers and groans fall from his lips. He’d be embarrassed if Momo wasn’t making his own sort of grunting noises.
There is a brief moment when it all begins to feel like too much, when his senses are overloading and he’s balancing precariously on the edge, and then Momo jerks up just as he’s coming down, and everything snaps into place. The world goes white and Kamio falls, tumbling through his orgasm with his arms around Momo’s back and his face pressed against Momo’s shoulder. He goes boneless immediately afterwards, slumping forward and sucking down air like he’s been held under water for too long.
Momo falls back onto the bed, sliding out of Kamio and pulling him down with him, and either Kamio does a very good job of hiding his wince or Momo is just being tactful for once in his life. His back aches, his thighs are sore, he feels almost like he’s been rubbed raw in places…
But he’s also never felt this sated in his entire life.
It’s kind of gross, though, being held tight against another person when both of them are still sweaty and sticky. But Kamio can’t be bothered to move, or maybe he’s just afraid that the aches will be sharper if he does.
…Or maybe it’s really not that bad, having Momo’s arm around him like this.
“Alright?” Momo murmurs around a yawn.
“Alright,” Kamio mutters back. He hopes his mother doesn’t decide to check up on them anytime soon.
“I did good, right?” Momo says, smirking.
Kamio frowns. “Momoshiro?”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
* * *
When they come out to everyone, it’s really kind of by accident.
“Momoshiro!” Kamio shouts, stomping up to the other boy. They’re at the street courts again, and there’s actually some people milling about even though the sky looks grey with rain.
Momo turns from his conversation with An, a sheepish look already on his face. “She called me!” he says instantly, holding up his hands. He continues in a rush, “I was going to call you but she said you were already here so I figured I would just meet you here and then I ran into her a couple blocks away and that’s the only reason we showed up together I am NOT flirting with her!”
Kamio blinks, wondering if he should try to decipher whatever Momo has just babbled at him, and then decides it would take too much effort. “An-chan is off-limits!” he says instead, smacking Momo with his tennis bag. “How many times do I have to tell you that?!” He hits him again, and then once more just because he can.
“Stop it!” Momo cries, arms held up in front of him to block the attacks. “There’s no need to get jealous!”
“I AM NOT JEALOUS!” Kamio explodes, and then realizes a second later that, actually, he is. And that’s an extremely disturbing thought. He falters in the middle of hitting Momo again, and Momo takes advantage of the pause to swoop in, hook his arm around Kamio’s neck, and draw him in for a kiss.
For a second, Kamio is too shocked and horrified to move. He vaguely hears An gasp and thinks Echizen might have made a startled sound somewhere in the background. He can hear Shinji mumbling and he’s pretty sure Kaidoh just fell off the benches a couple of feet away, and why all these people had to be here today of all days, why Momo just had to kiss him, he doesn’t know. But he also doesn’t pull away.
In fact, as Momo slips his tongue past Kamio’s lips, he decides that everyone else can just go to hell, and he kisses him back.
Then suddenly the clouds break and the rain starts to fall. Kamio hears everyone else yelping and running for cover, but he’s too busy tightening his arms around Momo’s neck to care.
The rain is cold and it doesn’t stop. If anything, it just pours harder, but at least it keeps everyone else away.
Momo and Kamio don’t bother stopping either.
FIN
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Aaaand CUT. That's a wrap.
More fic coming soon! The one that I was SUPPOSED to be writing. ^.~
~Maxine
P.S. Please feel free to admire my gorgeous icon, made by TEH LOFFLY
saillant. *________* And then please to be promptly writing me some Akazawa/Mizuki fic, yes? No, seriously. Write me some....Please? :D