FicWad

DNAngel, it is not Meg's.
Woez.



Niwa was an idiot.

Satoshi didn't particularly mind, though. Sometimes he wondered who Niwa thought they were fooling -- certainly not Niwa's father, who had once given him a look like 'well, there went grandchildren', and a half-rueful smile. Probably not his mother, who gave Satoshi suspicious looks every time she saw him.

But that wasn't so bad. At least they didn't call Niwa on his 'studying' with Satoshi -- and in fact, they did study. Niwa was responsible like that, and only tackled Satoshi after Satoshi had patiently gone through the intricacies of trig with him.

After studying, though, Niwa would get a look in his eye, and Satoshi would barely have a second to brace himself.

Not that he minded.

Niwa turned and the next moment Satoshi was on his back on the couch, Niwa straddling his hips.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said mildly.

"Unbuttoning your shirt?" said Niwa, looking innocent.

"And why are you unbuttoning my shirt?" said Satoshi, running his hand up Niwa's back under his t-shirt.

"It's easier to make out with less clothes on," said Niwa.

"What makes you think we're going to make out?" asked Satoshi.

"Hmmmm?" said Niwa, arching his back against Satoshi's hand as it rubbed his back.

"What makes you think we're going to make out?" repeated Satoshi patiently.

"We're on the couch, we're alone, and I've got you trapped," said Niwa. He undid the last button of Satoshi's shirt and made an annoyed sound. "Why do you always wear undershirts?"

"I get cold," said Satoshi, sliding his other hand up Niwa's chest under his shirt. Niwa squeaked and squirmed. "See?"

"Huh," said Niwa. "You could be warmer," he added, hopefully.

"Yes," said Satoshi. "I could go put a sweater on." He made a movement as if to push Niwa off him and Niwa flattened himself to Satoshi.

"Oh no you don't," said Niwa.

"Then how am I supposed to be warmer?" said Satoshi, who had no real intention of moving, ever, if he could possibly help it. "You keep taking my clothes off."

"I could warm you," said Niwa, as if at a brilliant inspiration. "I'm always warm."

"Is that a fact," said Satoshi. Niwa pushed himself up and began tugging at Satoshi's undershirt. Niwa's hands were warm. Satoshi shivered pleasantly at the way they moved over his chest, and lifted himself up enough for Niwa to pull the shirt over his head with his flannel.

"Uh-huh," said Niwa, looking down at Satoshi with a pleased expression. Satoshi thought it was more smug than anything else, come to think of it. "Don't you ever eat?"

"Yes, Niwa," said Satoshi, who had gained ten pounds that even he admitted he needed under Niwa's mother's stern eye and lavish helpings. "We ate before we did math, remember?"

"Do you eat when I'm not around?" demanded Niwa, tracing the line of Satoshi's ribs disapprovingly.

"Yes," said Satoshi, with a catch in his voice when Niwa's clever hands brushed over one of his nipples. "You're wearing more clothes than I am."

"Oh," said Niwa, and pulled off his shirt obligingly. Daisuke was surprisingly well-muscled for his build -- probably because of his training -- and Satoshi took a moment to admire the elegant lines of his chest. He touched the line of his collarbone and slid his hand down to his waist. Niwa put up with it and then leaned down and kissed Satoshi softly on the lips.

Petting was one thing, Niwa kisses were quite another. Satoshi wrapped his hand around Niwa's nape and settled in.

Niwa snorted in his face. He sat up a little and shook with silent laughter.

"What?" said Satoshi, annoyed.

"You always do that," said Niwa, trying not to laugh. "It's like With when you rub his ears. He kind of wiggles down and presses into you."

"Hey!" said Satoshi.

"I think it's cute," said Niwa, controlling himself.

"I don't want to talk about your rabbit," said Satoshi.

Niwa propped himself on Satoshi and smiled, sweetly. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"I don't want to talk /at all/," said Satoshi, and pulled Niwa's face toward his. Niwa allowed himself to be pulled and settled down onto Satoshi's chest in a warm, fluid sprawl. Satoshi wondered if it was uncomfortable but Niwa never seemed to mind. And then he had more important things to think about. The way Niwa's tongue slid to touch his lips, asking, and the way it slid into his mouth when he opened it. He could spend forever like this, with Niwa lying on top of him, deliciously warm, and kissing him like there was nothing in the world but them. He dragged his eyes open when Niwa slid down a little to lick his neck. Niwa's eyes were half-closed and dreamy, almost black. Satoshi lifted his throat and Niwa bit at his ear.

Satoshi tried not to moan but it came out anyway, but more like a sigh. He hoped. Considering the way Niwa was chuckling under his breath, probably not. Two could play that game, he decided, and slid his hand down Niwa's chest and barely brushed over one of his nipples. Niwa squeaked again and nipped sharply at Satoshi's neck. Satoshi smiled smugly and wrapped his arms around him and flipped them over. "Caught you."

"Did not," said Niwa.

"Did so," said Satoshi, biting Niwa's neck. See how he'd like it, he thought vaguely. It was a mistake, though, because Niwa shuddered, long and soft, and Satoshi's eyes crossed.

"Did not," said Niwa. "I stole you."

Satoshi thought about that for a second. "Did not," he said, sliding down and scraping Niwa's nipple with his teeth. Niwa gasped and his hand tightened around Satoshi's head.

"Did so," insisted Niwa. "Ah!"

"Did /not/," said Satoshi, firmly. "You can't steal something if it's given to you."

"Oh," said Niwa, and turned red. Satoshi kissed him again, and went back to exploring his chest. There was a place just below his ribcage that always made Niwa shudder if you nipped it, and if you licked his navel you were rewarded by a long shudder and Niwa arching up. Satoshi, thurough as always, had made note of every one. Niwa's nails clawed against his back and he chuckled.

"That's not nice," said Niwa.

"Is it?" said Satoshi, stroking the line of Niwa's hipbone.

"Hiwa--" began Niwa, and Satoshi lifted his head and glared at him. Niwa glared back, turned even more crimson and said, with difficulty, "Satoshi-kun..."

"Better," said Satoshi, and licked below Niwa's navel, just above his pants. Niwa arched again and moaned.

"You always call me Niwa," said Niwa, crossly. "Ah!"

"That's different," said Satoshi, sliding reluctantly up Niwa's chest and wrapping his arms around him.

"Still not fair," mumbled Niwa. He nuzzled into Satoshi's neck and scraped the tendon there with his teeth, gently. Satoshi tried to pull away but Niwa followed him so he was pressed against the back of the couch and his hips were pressed against Satoshi's. Satoshi tried not to moan. Niwa purred, obnoxiously satisfied.

Niwa somehow managed to wedge Satoshi's legs between his own. Satoshi, no fool, tried to escape, and ended up flat on his back with Niwa's groin grinding maddeningly against him.

Niwa really looked like Dark when he was getting his own way, or Satoshi. It was kind of disturbing. It was the way his eyes drooped, half-lidded and entirely sensual, thought Satoshi. Or else the way that Niwa was grinding slowly against him was just making him crazy. That was entirely possible. He wrapped his hands around Niwa's hips, either to stop him or pull him closer. He wasn't sure which. Niwa braced himself with his arms on the couch, and leaned down and kissed Satoshi again. Satoshi's hand went up to go around Niwa's head again, to hold him close.

Niwa was never good for his common sense, thought a distant part of his brain, resigned, and Satoshi gave himself up to kissing Niwa and moving in time with him, and drowning in the delicious sounds he made. Somehow it was vitally important that he undo Niwa's jeans, and more important that he allow Niwa to undo his khakis. He slid his hand in Niwa's waistband with something like relief -- yes this is what I want yes please -- and petted the line of his hip. Niwa moaned, tossing his head up and pushed the fly of Satoshi's khakis aside.

Satoshi didn't know what was more of a relief, pushing Niwa's pants and underwear down, wrapping his hand around Niwa, or lifting his hips so Niwa could push his khakis and underwear impatiently aside. Niwa wrapped his hand around Satoshi and they both groaned, pressing together, bucking against each other. Niwa dropped his head down and Satoshi raised himself awkwardly up and their mouths met, hot and wet and clumsy. Sweet. So sweet.

Niwa never cried out at the end, never, just arched up with a sobbing gasp. Satoshi watched him through a white haze and in the next moment he bucked up, said "Daisuke" helplessly, like he was praying, and let the world explode into white shards.

Niwa slumped against him, almost uncomfortably warm, and buried his face between the couch and Satoshi's neck. Satoshi managed to fling his arm around Niwa and they lay there for a while, pressed against each other. Niwa chuckled suddenly.

"What?" said Satoshi lazily.

"You called me Daisuke," he said, lifting his head and giving Satoshi the smile that made Satoshi's chest hurt.

Satoshi snorted and tucked Niwa's head back down.

"And it's cute when you blush, you know."

"Hush," ordered Satoshi.