Pairing: Watanuki/Doumeki (yes the order IS important)
Rating: PORN! Porn-y porn with some story sprinkled in. There's language and boy sex.
Written for ii_hanashi for the challenge found here.
Dedication: To ii_hanashi for the challenge. *loves at you* Doumeki would also like to love at you but… he's a little busy. Also, to chelle_sama for the advice, the sounding board, and everything else. A Very Fond 'Curse You' to lazulisong for getting me into it all.
Author's note: Doumeki is a horrible bastard to work with. He insists on giving out pages of crap and talking in tenses. I've salvaged much of what he gave me, but if there are any huge errors, please let me know so that I can fix them.
Beneath the Sun
The sun was strong, heavy and hot on Doumeki's exposed skin. It was not quite as heavy or as hot as the boy laying over him, kissing him deeply while exposing more and more skin to the inconsequential warmth of the sun. Of course, there were few forces of nature that could compete with Watanuki, in his opinion.
He honestly couldn't figure out how this had happened.
The beginning, he knew.
It started with the two of them eating lunch on the roof of the school because there was something 'not dangerous but I’m not eating out there with it' on the school lawns.
After that, it quit making sense.
For some reason, they'd made the roof their place for having lunch. They'd even started keeping an old blue blanket in the stairwell so that they didn't have to sit on the concrete.
They studied up there, or else discussed the jobs that Yuuko kept foisting off on them. They even talked about personal things such as music, goals, chores, memories, and recipes.
One day, before heading back down into the building, Watanuki kissed him.
Slowly and lingeringly, pressed up against the stairwell door.
Then he went down the stairs, complaining loudly about the maths exam coming up in last period. Life off of the roof that afternoon was exceedingly normal.
On the way home, by way of walking Watanuki to Yuuko's shop, Doumeki questioned him about it. The Kiss. "So. Lunch was interesting."
Watanuki glared at him. "I told you, I didn't mean to add that much salt. My hand slipped and there wasn't time to make more. Besides, only somebody looking to complain would have tasted the extra."
He took a short breath and pressed. "After lunch, I meant."
"After lunch, before classes."
"If you think studying for the math exams is interesting, it's no wonder you never actually date anybody."
He gave up after that, not wanting to hear Watanuki tell him that he'd dreamed the whole thing up. He preferred believing that it might have actually happened, even if it was pretty clear that it hadn't.
Lunch the next day passed in a haze of studying for morals and listening to Watanuki griping about the work load the teachers were laying on them. He was stretched out on the blanket, lying on his back with his book held over him to block the sun and not really listening until…
"Hey," Watanuki sounded so suddenly serious that he lowered his text book and looked over at him.
"Ye—" the word was cut off by the slant of Watanuki's mouth over his own.
The book fell, forgotten, as he went limp beneath the soft touch. He gave a shuddering sigh as Watanuki's breath became his own. They laid there, touching simply and breathing for each other, until the tones rang signaling the end of lunch.
Occasionally Doumeki wasn't sure if there was anything to be making sense of.
The rarified air of the rooftop might have been making him hallucinate. Watanuki, when off the roof, certainly seemed to think that was the case and had, very helpfully, suggested finding a mental health specialist.
Back on the roof, however, Watanuki's mouth said things of an entirely different nature.
After a few weeks, Doumeki realized that he'd basically stopped eating lunch. In the choice between having food and having Watanuki's mouth, he always chose Watanuki. He could eat anytime but Watanuki only kissed him when they were on the roof, far away from prying eyes and their lives below.
Eating was Watanuki's choice.
If they ate, they talked or studied; usually both, with Doumeki explaining the Japanese assignments and Watanuki going over the finer points of their English work. When they'd finished lunch and the particular work they were going over, they kissed.
If they didn't eat, they kissed.
Watanuki always turned a vaguely sly, sleepy smile on him before pressing him down into their blanket and stealing his breath away. No matter how warm it was, Doumeki always found himself shivering.
"Cold?" Watanuki murmured, his lips forming the words against his skin.
The feeling of hot breath against the cool, kiss-damped patch of skin that Watanuki had left made him shiver harder. "No."
"Hmmm." Watanuki's lips pressed against his temple, moving to his forehead. "Maybe you're too hot," he suggested, "you feel a little feverish."
"You should take off your jacket. Cool off a little."
Taking off his jacket made his temperature climb. It wasn't the jacket's fault; it was the way Watanuki's fingers stroked their way along the buttons and peeled the fabric back in slow increments that did it.
Another shiver wracked him. "Maybe more," he suggested as he lifted just enough to rid himself of the jacket entirely.
Watanuki made a humming noise low in his throat. "Maybe more," he agreed, unbuttoning the cuff of his right sleeve. Doumeki's shivers increased to actual trembling as Watanuki's tongue lapped at his wrist and moved in rough, silky slides up and up and up to the crook of his elbow. He rolled up the left sleeve in the same way as the right.
Doumeki ended up missing both English and Science because the teacher sent him to the see the school nurse for his 'fever'.
It wasn't always gentle or playful.
There were times when Watanuki was demanding, impatient. The first time Doumeki had encountered that aspect of Watanuki's kisses was all because of Himawari.
She joined them on the roof one day. She was sweet and charming and intrusively there.
Watanuki smiled and chattered and acted completely like himself. The 'himself' that didn't kiss boys on the school roof.
Doumeki didn't get so much as a private look from him and no accidental touches as they rearranged themselves on the blanket to make room for her, or when they folded it up again after lunch. Or when they opened the door to the stairwell.
He didn't go up to the roof the next day. He joined his teammates from archery out on the quad and ate the lunch he'd picked up at the canteen. By the time lunch was half over, he was shaking. When he looked up, he saw Watanuki leaning casually against the roof's fence.
"Excuse me," he muttered, not caring that he was interrupting the captain who was going over their strategy for the upcoming tournament. When he reached the roof, Watanuki was sitting on the blanket and very obviously watching the door.
"I…" he hesitated, actually hesitated for a good, long while before crossing to where Watanuki was sitting, not saying a word. He knelt. "I…"
Before he could say anything else Watanuki pushed him and he tumbled back, Watanuki's body forcing his all the way to the blanket. He had less than a second to register the blaze of fury and fear in those blue eyes before Watanuki's mouth was on his in a kiss so hard that it bordered on painful. He gasped and Watanuki's tongue swept in without the teasing preambles or tentative touching.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Watanuki demanded against his lips. He didn't wait for an answer, however. Instead, Doumeki found his uniform jacket stripped off his shoulders before he'd even caught his breath. He lost what little air he had caught moments later as his shirt was jerked from the waistband of his pants and Watanuki's hands slid up his belly to splay across his chest. "The canteen ramen?"
"I couldn't stand it," he whimpered as Watanuki's thumb rubbed a rough circle around one of his nipples before pinching it, rolling it between his thumb and fingers.
Watanuki's other hand wrenched his shirt collar aside and he bit his neck, a sharp scoring of teeth on tendons. "I made shrimp." Another nip, lower, at the hollow of his throat. "If you ask nicely, I might give you some."
"Please," he asked hoarsely.
They were very nearly late to afternoon classes.
None of it equaled up. It didn't explain how he'd come to this place. None of it seemed to add up to his shirt being off and Watanuki's shirt being completely unbuttoned while below them the rest of the school went about the business of having lunch.
"Hey," he murmured, running one hand over the silky-dark head bent over his chest. He wanted to call him 'Kimihiro' when they were like this, but he didn't. He never called him anything. To afraid that if he broke the spell of this place, there would be neither a Kimihiro nor a Watanuki waiting for him.
Watanuki's tongue traced the edge of his rib, up to his sternum. "Hm?" His tongue moved on to quick, flickering sweeps over one of his nipples and Doumeki almost forgot what it was he wanted to say as the feeling swamped him.
"Kiss me?" he asked quietly. It wasn't the first time he'd asked. He has even kissed Watanuki first a few times. And he was the first one to unbutton a shirtfront (just one button at the time, though, just enough so that the collar didn't choke him as Watanuki made a love bite bloom on the back of his neck). But he asked for the same reasons that he didn't speak a name.
"Kiss me back," Watanuki suggested, moving to kiss him. Their chests slid against each other, the warmth of the sun and the heat of wanting making their skin damp.
He slid a hand into Watanuki's hair, cupping the smooth roundness of his skull as he kissed him back. Watanuki's tongue darted in and out in quick thrusts and Doumeki, to save his own sanity, caught it gently with his teeth it just to make it stop. The school tones rang just as he'd started to suck on it and he broke the kiss with a frustrated groan. "Lunch is over," he mumbled swiping his tongue over Watanuki's lower lip, loathe to leave.
"Mm," Watanuki mumbled in return, slicking their tongues together again in a lewd, open air dance.
Doumeki arched beneath him, moaning. "We've got to go."
The hand that wasn't bracing Watanuki above him settled on his neck and ran a hard line down to his waist, curling over the button on his pants. "No, we don't."
Five minutes. That was all the time that they had from the time the tones sounded until the time that they had to be back in their desks. Five minutes to find his clothes, dress, and somehow will his erection to go away. Or at least hide enough to not be noticeable when he walked. "Classes," he reminded Watanuki, not caring at all if Watanuki paid attention.
"No," Watanuki told him, mouthing a path down his chest, the hand on the button resolving to fingers wrestling with it.
"But," Doumeki managed to get out before losing whatever else he'd been about to say to a gasp as the button submitted to Watanuki's will.
The rasp of his zipper lowering nearly drown out Watanuki's whispered "stay."
Denial? Suggestion? Request? Command? Doumeki wasn't sure what it was, or what it was supposed to be, but he obeyed it anyway. "Okay." He wasn't sure if his answer was actually a word or just an inarticulate noise as Watanuki's tongue began to trace the open edges of his zipper.
"Lift up," Watanuki instructed and he did, his hands clumsy as he tried to help shove his uniform pants and his underwear (of all the days to be wearing the school underpants) down to his knees. He tried to push them lower, to kick them all the way off, but Watanuki stopped him, laughing shakily. "No, no you've got your shoes on yet and I…"
A hand curled around his straining erection and Doumeki clutched handfuls of blanket to keep from grabbing blindly and forcing that hand to stroke. "Please?" he heard himself beg.
Watanuki licked his lips and Doumeki went blind, the universe dominated by nothing more than a pair of blue-black eyes. "I don't want to wait. I want to…"
He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he licked his lips again and Doumeki's eyes closed against the unintentionally teasing sight. So he missed seeing Watanuki's head dip. He went from seeing that tongue touching Watanuki's mouth to feeling it hesitantly lick a circle around the head of his cock.
Doumeki arched up with a wordless cry strangling in his throat.
"Shh," Watanuki was suddenly over him, hands pressing him back down to the blanket as his mouth moved soothingly against Doumeki's own. "Shh."
"You," he said, sounding both drugged and confused. Watanuki had never touched him there before, not even through his pants. He fumbled for words. "You…"
Watanuki shushed him again. "I want to."
As he slid back down his body, Doumeki watched him. Watched as Watanuki pressed his pursed lips to the head of his cock and slowly took it in, forcing it through the pucker of his lips inside to the wet heat of his mouth.
His scream that time was silent as well as wordless as he choked on nothing more than the air in his lungs.
It was, quite possibly, the worst act of oral sex ever performed. It was messy, too much pre-come and spit dribbling away to become uncomfortable, sticky pools. And it was clumsy, with Watanuki's teeth scraping half-painfully at the top of his cock. The rhythm was so bad that it wasn't even rhythm, but some awful combination of suck and stroke and surge. And when his hand and mouth finally started to work together, Watanuki would pull away to trace the tip of his tongue over the large vein on the underside of Doumeki's shaft, or else to place nibbling kisses all along his length.
Doumeki wanted to fuck like that, all messy inexperience and clumsy fumblings and horrible, stuttering, start-and-stop tempo.
Because it was so mind-blowingly perfect that it was sending his brain into nuclear melt-down, blasting down his spine like a concussive shockwave, shaking him apart from the inside out. He was so far gone that he was only dimly aware of the fact that, although Watanuki's mouth was open and moving, it was not Watanuki who was moaning out obscenities and pleas. Watanuki's mouth was too full to be the one whimpering 'please,' and 'fuck me' and 'I want to fuck you' and 'suck me' and 'more' and 'more' and 'more, please more'.
Watanuki's hand, the one that had been pressing just below Doumeki's navel, moved and stroked over his hip, curving over the crest of bone.
That simple move was all it took. Doumeki came hard, his breath sobbing out, tangling Watanuki's name with love words and sex words to form the bright, hot, sound of completion.
Logic being wrung out via the spine did nothing to explain why things happened up on the school's roof.
The universe around Doumeki expanded slowly, moving from existing solely of Watanuki's eyes, to including his smug/self-conscious smile, and from there it gained the rest of the world. "Hi," he muttered, staring, caught.
Watanuki blushed. "Hey."
Doumeki's heart slammed hard against his ribs. The things he wanted could no longer be contained on the rooftop. He struggled into a sitting position. "Kimihiro," he said, but it sounded off…"Watanuki," he tried, but that sounded even worse. "Look," he settled, "Mega-Mutant Space Busters Three is playing at the multiplex."
Watanuki raised one eyebrow, saying 'so' without saying a word.
"Do you want to go?" he asked. He sounded normal and nonchalant, but his heart was in his throat.
It was only then that Doumeki realized he'd forgotten the important part of his question. "With me? Together?"
"Okay," Watanuki agreed easily.
Too easily. "It's a date," Doumeki told him.
"I know," Watanuki nodded.
Doumeki was pretty sure he wasn't getting through. "No, I mean, it's a date. The kind where I pay for your ticket and buy you popcorn and—"
"I like wasabi peas," Watanuki interrupted placidly.
"—and I hold your hand in the popcorn," Doumeki continued, surprised that his voice was nowhere near as frantic as he felt, trying desperately to get this across.
"Can't we get the peas?" Watanuki asked.
He gave in. "Yes. Fine. I'm going to hold your hand in the peas, then," he said, wondering how it was that he was not tearing his hair out. He clenched his hands into fists so that he wouldn't start.
"I know," Watanuki agreed. "Really" he said, paused, and Doumeki felt one of his hands wrap around his own. "I got that part. I get it. A date. We're going on a date. That's okay. I mean, I just…" he skipped the word "…you on the school roof. And I," that time, he skipped the whole concept, "in my pants," he continued.
"You did?" He wondered how he'd missed that.
Watanuki twisted. "Don't look, you pervert."
Doumeki was suddenly and completely happy in a way that he realized he hadn't been since he'd first been kissed on the school roof. A relaxed happy. "You can call me Shizuka at the theater," he told him.
"I can call you Shizuka any time I want," Watanuki informed him, rolling his eyes. He fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and undid the button on his pants. "Turn around," he instructed, looking scandalized.
He was stupidly happy. He turned, sitting with his back against Watanuki's, feeling heat and bone and boy. "I'm going to call you Kimihiro," he decided.
"Go right ahead," Watanuki muttered, "nobody is stopping you."
And, somehow, everything—everything from an unexpected kiss to losing his virginity on the school roof to stumbling his way through asking for a first date—seemed to add up perfectly sensibly. He understood how it had happened, how he'd come to this place.
It was by falling.