FicWad

The edge of the table struck him in the backs of his legs, but there was no pain-- there was no room for pain in the flood of other emotions working their way through his blood. Desire was there, of course-- full-out desperate lust, demanding and hot. Something softer underneath, brought on by the simple joy of touch, by the gentle way lips brushed across his cheek.

The body against his pushed further; hands tugged until he shifted to perch on the edge of the table, falling back until he could vaguely see the shape of the other in the near-darkness, could see the sliver of light from the hall glint off that outrageous hair--


The moment he walked into the classroom, his eye was drawn to a single figure on the far side, standing in the sun with hair turned to flame by the light. He stopped for a moment, staring, wondering if it was even possible to have hair that shade.

Then, as he started to move to his seat, he heard the name the others were calling the flame-haired boy, and his surprise turned to ashes in his throat.

He ignored the pang of sharp interest that went through him-- not his own-- and with an effort that was becoming easier and easier, he shoved the emotions away.


Deft, trembling fingers shoved inside his shirt even as his own hands buried themselves in that hair and pulled, bringing the other down for a deep, heated kiss, lips moving, tongues touching and sliding-- he could taste the moaned growl that struggled to escape the other's chest, could feel it in the way the body pressed hard against him, pushing him back flat onto the table's surface with his legs dangling off the end.

Heat began to build-- that particular heat that boiled thickly beneath the skin, that rose and ebbed in slow waves that gradually came faster, and faster--


His face was hot-- it had to be red enough that everyone would be able to tell what he was thinking. If they couldn't already hear his heart pounding faster than it had any right to under the circumstances. Except that no one was looking at him oddly. No one seemed to think that anything was amiss, so perhaps his mask was still in place after all, despite how unsettled he'd become.

He stood back and watched as his classmates clustered around Niwa and took him away towards the nurse's station, leaving the poolside echoing and empty.

With no one around to see, he allowed himself to lift one hand to his lips, to wonder at the way his fingers were trembling. Somewhere inside, something laughed, but for once he hardly noticed.


Teeth clamped lightly onto his chest, and he nearly let out a yell before he could choke it back. Moving on autopilot, his fingers went about the task of undoing buckles and buttons, pushing away cloth until only skin was left.

Then, he switched his focus from hands to mouth, and lunged upwards to exact a little revenge. He slitted his eyes open long enough to see the effects on the face above him, then closed them again in satisfaction.


He awoke to the distinctly strange sensation of being alone in his own head. For a split second, he panicked, wondering what new trick this was-- then he remembered, and the panic was replaced by an almost giddy relief.

When he opened his eyes there was only dust and stone-- on the ground, in the air. The sky was gray with it, where it could be seen through the remains of the roof. Even Niwa's hair seemed dulled, when he managed to turn his head to look at the other boy who was sitting nearby with the slightly dazed look of the just-awakened.

He took a breath-- and coughed, choking on the dust. He tried again. "Well," he rasped, "we're still alive. Something must have gone right."

Just before his eyelids slid shut again, he saw Niwa smile.


A hand was urging his legs apart, and he spread them willingly. He gasped as a hot mouth seemed to descend everywhere, tracing aimless patterns that slowly focused in on the areas that mattered the most.

There were slick fingers against him, pressing, sliding and eventually entering, and this time he was helpless to stop the cry-- but a hand came down over his mouth, stifling it, and he felt a hot flush and a shiver go through him at that particular touch.


He felt hot, but at the same time everything was so cold-- except where there was something touching his face, brushing softly across his forehead. He managed to pry his eyes open long enough to look. Instead of the half-expected-- half hoped-for-- head of red hair, he instead saw the face of Niwa's mother, looking at him in slight surprise as he moved but quickly recovering. She smiled down at him, settling the damp cloth back against his forehead.

She talked to him briefly, about shock and malnutrition and general exhaustion-- but there must have been a question in his eyes because eventually she fell silent, smiled wider and nodded off to the side. He managed to follow the motion, and saw Niwa curled up in a chair next to the bed, asleep, still in the same dusty, tattered clothes.


The weight returned, a body pressing down onto his, grinding the hard table surface into his back-- and he threw his head back, scream tangled up in his throat as he was entered.


A knock sounded on the door-- for perhaps the first time ever. Before he could call an answer, the knob turned, and Daisuke's head popped around the corner. The other boy took one look around, grabbed his hand and pulled him out through the door, out into the open air and the sun.


He wrapped his legs tighter, trying to get more leverage as he was rocked into a quickly rising rhythm. He could hear a faint sound-- almost a moan, almost a growl, not quite a whimper-- but he couldn't tell which one of them was making it.


Someone shouted his name, loud enough to be heard over the dull roar of the busy courtyard. He shifted his books and turned to see a familiar shape come pushing through the sea of university students, a shape that smiled and laughed at it came close and started to walk beside him.


The hands seemed to be everywhere, running over his skin, sliding down his belly and curling lower-- and the mouth shifted until it was at his throat, where it latched on and sucked hard. For a moment, they broke apart, starting at each other from just inches away.


The other's eyes seemed almost black, up close, even wide as they were. But they didn't seem shocked, or frightened, or angry-- so he leaned forward just that little extra distance and touched their lips together.


He grabbed the other's head and yanked it down, pulled it close for another devouring kiss just as the bottom fell out of his world and washed everything white, leaving him spinning in empty space.

When he became aware again, there was a heavy body sprawled limply on top of him, and lips mouthing absent patterns against his throat. It was a long moment before he could even think of moving, his limbs heavy and weak, but eventually he turned his head and the lips drew back.

"Sato?" a low voice murmured. "You okay? You were zoning out a bit, again."

He sighed out a long, contented breath. It's a fairly common thing/, he wanted to say. /A human self is built from the sum of its memories. When those memories are strong, it's easy for them to overwhelm the present.

But instead, he smiled lazily, not even opening his eyes. "Consider it a compliment."

He could feel the grin in the air. "So you liked it, then."

With some effort, Satoshi managed to sit up, worming out from under the dead weight that was Daisuke, and after a few deep breaths he started to grope after his clothes. "Yes, all right. I did," he said, pleased that he managed not to sound too breathless. "I'll admit that it was-- definitely exhilarating."

A heavy sigh sounded behind him, though there was a chuckle lurking beneath it. "But?"

Twisting, he fixed Daisuke with a firm stare. "But I still prefer our /bed/," he finished pointedly.

This time the chuckle was unhidden, and his red-haired lover lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I give," Daisuke said, smiling as he straightened and began searching for his own clothes. "You win-- I'll stop asking."

Satoshi snorted to show his opinion of that particular promise, but said nothing. Making an attempt to settle his hair, he turned and presented himself to his lover for inspection.

Daisuke eyed him critically, reached out to straighten a few things, then nodded and stood while Satoshi returned the favour. They both went to the door and listened a moment, letting out a quiet sigh when they didn't hear any voices in the hall beyond.

When Satoshi reached for the door handle, though, he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. Briefly, he was pulled in and held while the other's mouth pressed down on his yet again-- then Daisuke pulled back with a flash of grinning teeth, and was through the door and out.

Satoshi stood for a moment, then laughed quietly to himself and followed.