Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto > Teaching
Looking Out Windows For Love
0 reviewsKakaGai. AU. A series of shorts on the life of two boys who become men who become teachers. Cars, dogs, and sex are involved.
0Unrated
Working at a school like this, you rather wish your romance was just as pure and uncomplicated as the ones you see around you every day. A boy and a girl, glancing at each other across the room and then a week later holding hands. Red lips and constantly aching bodies.
Of course, your own high school years were not quite so peaceful as the ones around you. To think that you are old enough to make "back in my day" speeches! Obito would be appalled.
Your love has become worn in, ingrained in your very being so that were you to try and tear it apart you could never become accustomed to its loss. His body still goes hot and achy with desire whenever he presses that extra step closer, sliding his fingers across an unshaven cheek. But you become tired more easily, and there are too many memories that share your bed for the lively, carefree lovemaking that you had not valued so long ago.
Thinking like this, you want to touch him and reassure yourself that he is still here and that you're not thinking of a ghost - like in so many of your memory-dreams. Thankfully, he's in the teacher's lounge and when he turns from the coffee maker his smile does not waver but his eyes go soft at the sight of you. It still makes your stomach flip-flop, just a little bit, to see how you effect him. He has just got a haircut and the sharp ends press against your palms as you run them over his face like a blind man sees. You whisper his name coyly and he grins even more. Your hips brush once, just a vague temptation, but new responsibilities make old habits impossible. There will be no fucking over tables in this institution, with the risk of colleagues and students coming in at any time.
He was always the one who wanted to come out, and you were always the one holding back. He, exorcised for no good reason, was quite amiable about being a social leper for a better one. You, exorcised for a quite good reason, were adverse to anything of the kind ever happening again. Often he gave in to you, but you in turn didn't make a fuss if it happened to come out by accident. In this way, he kissed you, bitter with the taste of teacher-grade coffee, and sweet with tenderness. You suddenly want to take him to bed entirely at this very moment, just having him here is not enough, but you quash that into a corner for later. Now, you just settle for the movement of his lips and the thrust of his tongue.
So brief, never lasting; the glow afterwards manages to get you through the rest of the day.
Of course, your own high school years were not quite so peaceful as the ones around you. To think that you are old enough to make "back in my day" speeches! Obito would be appalled.
Your love has become worn in, ingrained in your very being so that were you to try and tear it apart you could never become accustomed to its loss. His body still goes hot and achy with desire whenever he presses that extra step closer, sliding his fingers across an unshaven cheek. But you become tired more easily, and there are too many memories that share your bed for the lively, carefree lovemaking that you had not valued so long ago.
Thinking like this, you want to touch him and reassure yourself that he is still here and that you're not thinking of a ghost - like in so many of your memory-dreams. Thankfully, he's in the teacher's lounge and when he turns from the coffee maker his smile does not waver but his eyes go soft at the sight of you. It still makes your stomach flip-flop, just a little bit, to see how you effect him. He has just got a haircut and the sharp ends press against your palms as you run them over his face like a blind man sees. You whisper his name coyly and he grins even more. Your hips brush once, just a vague temptation, but new responsibilities make old habits impossible. There will be no fucking over tables in this institution, with the risk of colleagues and students coming in at any time.
He was always the one who wanted to come out, and you were always the one holding back. He, exorcised for no good reason, was quite amiable about being a social leper for a better one. You, exorcised for a quite good reason, were adverse to anything of the kind ever happening again. Often he gave in to you, but you in turn didn't make a fuss if it happened to come out by accident. In this way, he kissed you, bitter with the taste of teacher-grade coffee, and sweet with tenderness. You suddenly want to take him to bed entirely at this very moment, just having him here is not enough, but you quash that into a corner for later. Now, you just settle for the movement of his lips and the thrust of his tongue.
So brief, never lasting; the glow afterwards manages to get you through the rest of the day.
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