Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1097345.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ao_no_Exorcist_|_Blue_Exorcist
  Relationship:
      Okumura_Rin/Suguro_"Bon"_Ryuuji
  Character:
      Okumura_Rin, Suguro_"Bon"_Ryuuji
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Generic_Fangirl_Continuity,
      Awkward_Day_After, Developing_Relationship, Tailfic
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Priest's_Son_and_the_Demon
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-23 Words: 6431
****** Blue Garden ******
by the_original_n_chan
Summary
     The day after their first_time, Rin and Bon have some issues to
     resolve. Mostly Bon's issues.
Notes
     See series page for continuity note and disclaimer.
It wasn’t the fact that he’d gotten off with Suguro Ryuuji, one of his few real
friends, in a drug-addled frenzy of lust that really sucked, Rin thought.
It was the fact that he remembered it.
After all, if he hadn’t remembered anything, he would have come into class and
said hello just like normal, and Suguro might have acted funny but he wouldn’t
have had a clue why, and Suguro would have figured that out real fast and just
pretended that nothing had happened, and everything would’ve been cool. But.
Instead the traitor heat of embarrassment had leaped into his face the second
he’d seen Suguro sitting at his desk. Suguro had returned his flustered look
with a truly epic death glare, then turned pointedly away, crossing his arms on
his chest. So it looked as though they might be right back at square one.
God, he hoped not. It had been hard enough waiting for Suguro to tolerate him,
and then to become gruffly friendly, and then to get past the revelation of his
demon issues and accept him a second time. It would be a pain in the ass to
have to fight that fight all over again.
He figured he kind of deserved it, though. Because he didn’t just remember what
they had done—he remembered how it had all happened, how he’d run right over
Suguro’s complaints and objections like they were nothing. By the end of it,
yeah, Suguro had seemed to be into it as much as he was, but did that make up
for the fact that he’d, well, pretty much molested Suguro to get there?
The worst part about remembering, though, was that even with the embarrassment
and the inevitable awkwardness and the guilty knowledge that he’d really
crossed some lines there that he shouldn’t have, those memories set him on
fire. (Not literally, thank God.) And he didn’t want to let them go. He wanted
more. Now that he’d had the merest taste of sex—sex with Suguro, whoa, weird,
but Suguro had been at the top of both his Cool Dudes list and his ultra-secret
Guys That Make Me Hot in Spite of Myself list, so not really that far out
there—the thought that it might be just a one-time freak incident made him want
to bang his head against the desk. He had to come right out and admit it to
himself—he wanted to do it again, and in particular with Suguro, because it had
been good, and he liked Suguro—maybe not like liked (that could’ve been the
drugs), just liked, but he wasn’t really sure, and that was something that
maybe needed to be worked out at some point. But sheerly on the physical side
of things, the way they had moved together, the taste and smell of Suguro’s
skin, the aching and throbbing and straining for amazing release....
Okay, maybe the remembering wasn’t that bad after all. Because it had been so
good, how could he possibly want to forget?
“Okumura-kun.”
Oh God, it had been so good....
“Okumura-kun.”
“Uh, yes!” Rin bolted to his feet before it occurred to him to worry about the
state of his pants. Luckily nothing had come up, as it were, during his
distraction. He stared at their scripture instructor, his mind a total blank.
“Er...what?”
“It’s your turn to recite,” she said with resigned weariness. He hesitated,
wracking his brain, and she sighed dramatically. “Psalm 93, dear.”
He knew that—he was just trying to remember how it started. “The Lord reigns,
He is clothed with magic gear.” There was a pfft! from Kamiki, somewhere behind
him, and he gritted his teeth. “The Lord is clothed...,” wait, had he already
said that? “The Lord is...he has girdled Himself with strength. Surely the
world is established, so that it cannot be moved.” He got through that part in
a rush and paused for breath. “Your throne is established from the old days;
You are from...” Edo? Edi? Ebi.... “Ebisu.” Shit, even he knew that wasn’t
right. Kamiki was cackling out loud now. Squaring his shoulders, Rin lifted his
chin and recited more loudly.
“The floods have lifted up, O Lord. The floods have lifted up their voice. The
floods lift up their waves. The floods lift up....” What? “The floods lift
up...their waves.” No, wait, the floods were already done lifting up. “The
Lord...the Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, than the
mighty waves of the sea.” Homestretch, thank God. “Your testi...testi...,”
testicles, oh God, no, “...testi...thingies are very,” sore? Oh God, he was
dying here. “Very sure. And hor- holiness adorns your house forever, O Lord.”
His face burning, fists clenched at his side, he waited for the axe of fail to
fall so that he could drop back into his seat and hide.
The teacher stared at him, her lipsticked mouth pursed. “I suppose I should
give you some points for getting that much right,” she mused. “But in reciting
verses, Okumura-kun, close is not good enough. The power of the Word lies in
precision and exactitude. And to be honest, calling that close would be
excessively generous.” The white cat riding her shoulder regarded him
disapprovingly, then began grooming one paw. He wondered if that was its way of
giving him the finger. “Study the same one for tomorrow. Perhaps it’s best to
keep you working on just one psalm until you can recite it perfectly.” As Rin
slumped despondently, she added, “And the word is testimonies, young man.”
Defeated, Rin sagged into his seat. It was fucking embarrassing—here they were,
esquires, and the others were more or less able to recite whole books of the
Bible while he was stuck at the remedial level, still trying to memorize
psalms. The whole thing was pathetic and pointless. Just give him something to
hit already—that was all he wanted or needed to know about fighting demons.
“Dumbass,” Suguro muttered, barely audible, from the other side of the room.
Rin glanced over—Suguro still wasn’t looking his way, but the set of his jaw
radiated an all-too-familiar irritation. With a low sigh, Rin bent forward,
resting his forehead against the edge of his desk. Even the swish of Shiemi’s
short skirt at just about eye level as she stood to begin her own recitation
didn’t distract him from his gloom.
Okay, more sex with Suguro was probably right out. (It did count as sex, right?
Since he’d come? He thought so.) He’d just have to cope with that. What was
more important was getting their friendship back. He’d only just made friends
for the first time in his life, and losing that was unbelievably painful. He
had no idea what he was going to say to Suguro, but they had to work this out.
Shiemi finished her slightly quavering recitation, received the teacher’s
grudging acceptance and reminder to be more forceful, and sat down with
apparent relief. Rin lifted his head just enough to steal a look back over his
shoulder. Suguro was staring at him, and his heart jumped. Suguro noticed Rin
looking back at him; his brows drew down stormily before he jerked his gaze
away to glower at the front wall of the classroom.
Yikes. He was really pissed. Rin turned around again. His heart was beating
fast; his blood was up like he was ready for a fight. Or something. Bending
forward again, he crossed his arms, pressing them against his lap. He didn’t
think he was going to embarrass himself, but just in case..... His tail
twitched in agitation, thumping against the chair leg. You shut up too.
The thought of Suguro’s face looking scared and mad, startled and vulnerable.
Of kissing the sullenness right off that mouth. Of getting inside the circle of
those arms, right up close against that hard body.
Goddamn stupid memories....
But if he hadn’t remembered, and Suguro had decided to pretend nothing was
wrong, would something weird always be between them, getting in the way of
their friendship, and he wouldn’t even know why?
Was it better to remember or not to remember?
“Argh!” He was so confused he couldn’t think straight. Frustrated, he sat bolt
upright, scrubbing his hands up into his hair as if by doing so he could force
his brain to stop whirling.
“Is there some problem, Okumura-kun?”
“Uh, no, ma’am.” Slouching down in his chair, Rin leaned back wearily, tilting
his head to stare up at the ceiling.
Was this class never going to end?
 
 
 
“Oi, Suguro! Wait up!” Rin broke into a light jog to catch up with Suguro,
Shima, and Konekomaru. Suguro didn’t halt; instead as Rin caught them up he
started walking faster. “We gotta talk for a minute.”
“No, we don’t.” Suguro walked even faster, fists clenched and arms swinging.
Rin kept pace.
“Yes, we do!”
“I said, we don’t!” Suguro sped up again—now they were race-walking down the
tiled hall of the cram school, and Shima had started cracking up behind them.
This was retarded.
“Quit running away!”
That got Suguro—he stopped dead and whirled on Rin. “I’m not running away! I’m
going back to class.”
“Shyeah, right.” Rin leaned in toward Suguro and said, his voice low and
deadly, “Is this really a conversation you wanna have there? ’Cause it’s gonna
happen one way or another.”
Suguro stared at him for a long moment as Shima and Konekomaru came up to them,
then ducked his head in frustration. Konekomaru said tentatively, “Bon...?”
“Shit.” Suguro’s shoulders slumped. “You guys go ahead, okay?” Lifting his head
again, he scowled at Rin. “Where?”
“In here.” Rin led him to the mostly unused old storage room. It was where he’d
had his accident with the jar, but knowing his brother, Yukio had cleaned up
meticulously, so it shouldn’t be a problem. He flipped on the lights, half of
which weren’t working, and closed the door behind them. He could almost feel
Suguro tense up. Rin turned to face him. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Suguro growled. “You were the one who had something to say.”
Awkwardly, Rin looked away from him.
“Um, about that time....”
“It’s nothing.” Surprise drew Rin’s gaze back to Suguro. He had his hands
shoved in his pockets; he was staring at the wall of glass jars filled with
musty, expired herbs, refusing to meet Rin’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s
just forget it.”
Rin knew he should feel relief, but instead anger kindled in him, sudden,
surprising, and hot. “What d’you mean it doesn’t matter? And I’m not going to
lie and pretend that nothing happened between us!”
“There’s no ‘between us’!” Suguro snapped. Regaining control with an effort, he
went on, “You were out of your mind on drugs. You weren’t responsible for your
actions. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Rin stared at him, lost in contradictory emotions. “That’s bull,” he said at
last, his throat tight. “I was high, yeah, but I knew what I was doing. I knew.
And I told you I’m not going to lie about this.” His pulse hammered; the room
seemed claustrophobic suddenly. Too much to break, no room to explode. His
voice rose. “What the hell good is it to lie about things if we’re supposed to
be friends?”
“This is ridiculous,” Suguro muttered, and he began to turn away. In a flash
Rin had closed the distance between them and caught him by the tie, jerking him
back around. Suguro stiffened, his eyes widening in shock.
“I wanted ya.” They were close now, barely arm’s length apart, staring into
each other’s faces. “And I still want ya.” He couldn’t hide his demonic nature
from his friends anymore, and as much as it had sucked at first, things were
better this way. He wasn’t going to conceal this truth from Suguro. “That’s how
I am. Can y’deal with it?”
Suguro’s breathing seemed unnaturally harsh in the stillness. “Get your hands
off me,” he gritted at last.
“I’m not touchin’ you.” The school uniform tie ran between them, a slender bond
of connection. It seemed too slight, too fragile. Rin wanted to pull Suguro
even closer, to fist his hands in Suguro’s shirt collar and drag him down,
taste his lips, his breath. Careful. Don’t choke him. “Scared?” Rin’s mouth
tensed into a fierce smile. C’mon, Bon.
“Fuck you!”
“You wanted it too,” Rin shot back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”
“What?!” Suguro’s voice scaled up sharply. He stepped forward, looming over Rin
as he glared down. “When the hell did I say I wanted it? In what words? I told
you to fucking stop!”
“When you told me to move or you’d punch me.” Rin’s smile shifted to a cocky
smirk. He had the son of a bitch now. Admit it—it was good. You liked it by the
end. “If you’d really meant it, you woulda just punched me without warning me.
It’s not like you haven’t decked me before.”
Suguro grew still, his expression closing into sudden neutrality. “Ah. I see.”
The right cross took Rin completely by surprise. He stumbled backward, dropping
Suguro’s tie, and crashed against the prep counter. Lifting his hand, he
pressed the back of it to his aching mouth. He could taste blood, sharp and
metallic.
“Do y’get it now?” Suguro snarled, rubbing at his knuckles. “I don’t want you
near me!”
Rage ignited in Rin, the old, familiar fury. He wanted to lash back, to ease
the pain with violence. Not the already fading pain in his lip but the deeper
anguish, the rejection, the shame he wanted so badly to deny and couldn’t.
Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. He’s strong, but you could break him. Rin glared
back in helpless misery.
“Just keep your sick feelings to yourself!” Suguro ranted on. “And I don’t want
to hear you talking about friendship either, when you can’t even act like a
goddamned friend!”
“So that’s it, huh?” Rin drew in a shuddering breath. Fire trembled within him,
barely below the surface; he struggled to hold it in check—struggled and
failed. Blue flame burst out around him, leaping and roiling, throwing
flickering reflections across the jar-lined wall. Suguro recoiled, the fear
obvious on his face. “Fine!” Rin shouted. “Then I’ll stay away from you!”
Shoving himself from the counter, he slammed past Suguro and out the door. He
stalked down the empty hallway, fighting to calm himself, desperately willing
his flames to go out again. He just managed to shed the last of them as he
reached the classroom door.
Opening the door, he marched to his seat and threw himself into it, shoving his
hands into his pockets in disgust. He paused, drawn up short as his fingers
encountered something. Sitting up a little straighter, he pulled out the hair
clip that Suguro had given him and stared at it. After a long moment, he ducked
his head, setting his jaw.
 
 
Ryuuji sank into his seat, staring at the hair clip lying in the middle of his
desk. Next to him, Konekomaru looked up at him sidelong with a nervous, unhappy
expression. Slowly Ryuuji reached out and closed his hand around the clip, his
knuckles clenching into a tight fist.
At the front of the class, Rin sprawled low in his chair, demonology book held
up before him, his bangs falling into his face.
 
 
 
“You.” Rin jerked his head up as Suguro stepped into view at the end of the
arched passageway that led from the fountain courtyard. He was alone, Shima and
Konekomaru nowhere in sight. Standing there, he blocked the exit, and Rin
stopped dead in his tracks. Suguro took a couple of steps forward, closing some
of the space between them, and held up the hair clip. “What the hell is this?”
“What do you think it is? It’s your clip. I’m giving it back.” Rin looked
aside, digging into his ear with one finger, trying to fake insolent lack of
interest. He was startled when Suguro hurled the clip at him. It bounced off
his chest and fell with a faint clink to the paving stones.
“Don’t insult me by returning my gift!”
“Insult you?! You’re the one who doesn’t want anything to do with me!” Rin drew
a suddenly shaky breath, his defenses crumbling. “Look, you were right, okay? I
knew it, and.... That day, I went too far. I shoulda stopped, but I didn’t.”
His voice was rising, emotion spilling over. “I’m the goddamned son of Satan,
I’ve got no control, I can’t get anything right, I’m a royal fuck-up.” He was
yelling now, but he didn’t care. “D’you think I can keep it? Knowing that I’ve
got no right to call you a friend anymore?”
His shout echoed from the high, curving ceiling; the sound faded, his panting
breaths gradually eased, and there was silence. Suguro just stood there, saying
nothing. Rin spun away and put his back roughly against the wall, folding his
arms, waiting for Suguro to leave so he could go back to his dorm, because hell
if he was going to be the one to run off again.
“You were right, too.”
Surprised, Rin looked up. Suguro’s head was lowered; his hands were knotted
into fists at his sides. “Huh?” Rin wondered.
“You were right. When I hit you, I was scared. Not of you, but of myself.”
Suguro’s gaze was fixed on the pavement, avoiding Rin’s. “When I set my mind to
do something, I do it. I don’t turn aside or make excuses. That’s how I am.” He
struggled for a moment, his expression tense and pained, and then the words
burst out of him. “How could I have been so weak as to just give in to you like
that?”
Rin’s heart leaped with shock at Suguro’s outburst, or maybe sympathy for that
confusion, but his head felt oddly calm all of a sudden. “Heh. You always put
so much pressure on yourself,” he said. “Your determination’s pretty awesome,
yeah, but don’t tell me you’re never allowed to change your mind about
something.” His mouth quirked into a weak grin. “You’ve already changed your
mind about me a couple of times since we met.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” Suguro muttered. “I still think you’re an idiot
slacker.” He seemed to relax a little, though.
“’What if I can’t stop myself? What if I do it again?’ That’s what you’re
thinking, right?” Suguro started a little, and Rin shrugged. “Well, so what? If
you want to, then do it. If you don’t, then don’t. I...it’s not like I’ll be
mad or anything.” Regretful, maybe. Well, make that probably. Rin laughed a bit
lamely, trying to get past the awkward moment. “And it’s not like I have
freaking sex powers that’ll take over your mind or anything.”
“That’s what you think,” Suguro said under his breath. Rin blinked, startled.
Suguro walked forward a few steps, a little stiffly, and stopped in front of
him. They stared at each other, and Rin could feel the sudden charge in the
air, like electricity running between them, like the pull of his flames. His
breath caught. “You gonna pick up that clip?” Suguro growled.
“Yeah.” Rin smiled, slow and just a little evil, making no move toward the
clip. “You gonna kiss me?” Suguro jerked in alarm, and Rin’s smile turned
slightly bitter. “Or is the queer-ass homo thing still a problem for you?”
Suguro turned red. “I-I, uh....”
“S’all right. It took me a while to get my head around it too.” For some reason
the insult didn’t upset him that much—far less than being called a demon ever
had. “It really bothered me until me and Yukio talked about it—”
“What?! You mean he knows?!”
“Huh?” It took him a moment to figure out why Suguro looked about to panic.
“Oh—no! Not that. We were talking about me being bi.”
“B-Bi....” Suguro stared at him, then slumped, ducking his head and letting out
a huff that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “You are a piece of work.”
Rin couldn’t make heads or tails of that, but it didn’t matter. Suguro
straightened and met his gaze once more. His expression grown serious, he
reached out and slowly took up Rin’s tie. Little by little he drew it taut,
until at last Rin yielded to that pull, leaning away from the wall, tilting his
head as Suguro bent to kiss him....
Suguro even kissed serious. Full attention, like the focus he had when reciting
verses in battle. Reciting verses wasn’t sexy, but this was. Suguro pressed him
back again, one hand on the stones by his shoulder, the other still knotted
around his tie—kissed hard, covering him, and Rin liked it, liked the tension
of being in Suguro’s shadow, caught between him and the wall, their bodies
almost but not quite touching. Rin’s hands came up and curled about Suguro’s
shoulders, and Suguro pulled back just enough to mutter, “Don’t rip my shirt
again.”
Pain in the ass. Rin let his hands slide down, hooked his fingers in Suguro’s
belt loops and tugged him even closer, so that their bodies rocked together as
Suguro’s mouth closed onto his once more. Oh yeah—even better, Suguro’s weight
and solidity rubbing against him. He hitched his hips up into Suguro’s.
Suguro’s mouth parted on his, moved with almost bruising urgency, and he felt
the probing touch of what he realized was Suguro’s tongue—oh, ugh, gross, but
hot, so shockingly hot it set his thumping heart to pounding even faster. After
that first instinctive flinch, he opened to it, swiping back with his own
tongue, and that deep kiss went on and on and on. He cupped his hands along
Suguro’s jawline, following every movement with his fingers as well as with his
mouth, with the rhythm of his body swaying up into Suguro’s. He almost shouted
his frustration as Suguro began drawing back—pulled him close again to catch
his lips once, twice, before Suguro finally broke away.
Suguro looked dazed. “Hhnn. Not here.”
Why not? Oh, right. “Wanna go to my room?” His voice sounded strange, husky. He
swallowed, realized he was probably swallowing some of Suguro’s spit, and
wavered between being freaked out and even more turned on. Turned on won.
Suguro shook his head. “I know a place. Closer. Come on.” Suguro stepped away,
hesitated, then in one swift motion crouched and scooped up the hair clip.
Turning, he ran his hand up Rin’s forehead, sweeping back Rin’s hair, and slid
the clip into place. Leaning back, Suguro regarded his work briefly, then
smiled his infuriating one-sided smirk.
Infuriating could be sexy too. Rin smiled back, a taut curve of hunger and
promise.
Bring it, Suguro....
 
 
 
 
Following Suguro across the campus without grabbing him and hauling him into a
dark corner was almost as great a torture as training with Shura’s candles. It
wasn’t that long, but Rin was cursing mentally well before they reached the
narrow stairway that led down next to what he thought was probably a chapel. At
the bottom, though, he paused and stared. A walled garden stretched the length
of the building. In the center was a reflecting pool that caught the sky and
the green clouds of matching ancient willow trees down at the far end of the
garden. Nearby stood a stone bench surrounded by a knot-garden of low, trimmed
sweet box, offering a perfect view. The garden had an air of  peace and
privacy: the chapel wall had only stained glass windows, and those were high up
above the level of the garden, while the other walls, though lower, still stood
well over head height, and the iron gate between the willows was chained and
locked. Late afternoon sunlight spilled over the west wall to dazzle on billowy
masses of hydrangeas that lined either side of the pool.
“Wow. Pretty.” Rin wondered if Shiemi would like this place. It had some of the
otherworldliness of her garden, though he thought she might prefer more variety
in the flowers.
“I come here to practice reciting sometimes, when I don’t want to disturb Shima
and Konekomaru,” Suguro explained. Rin was so not caring about reciting. That
brief moment of garden appreciation over, he seized Suguro by the arm and
dragged him behind the nearest clump of hydrangeas, shed the Koumaken and
pulled him down. On their knees in the grass, they kissed again, arms wrapping
around each other, clutching wildly. Not enough—still not enough. Rin tumbled
them both to the ground, to a startled grunt from Suguro. They lay there,
tangled together, Rin’s hands running up to rake through Suguro’s two-colored
hair as he kissed and sucked Suguro’s throat, as he pulled himself higher to
explore Suguro’s piercings with teeth and tongue. Suguro tensed, his breath
escaping in a hiss. His hand cupped the back of Rin’s thigh; Rin obligingly
bent his leg, hooking it around Suguro’s, pulling them even closer together,
chest pressed to chest now, and groin to groin, heat and swelling hardness
growing as they rubbed against each other with increasing urgency. Still
more.Rin wanted skin. Somehow he loosened the knot of Suguro’s tie, got a
button undone on Suguro’s shirt, then another, without ripping anything. His
hand slid under the cloth, and his eyes widened.
“Whoa! Pierced there too!” Suguro growled at him, then yelped as Rin’s fingers
tugged at the curved barbell set in his nipple. Pressed close as they were, Rin
couldn’t quite get at the next button; instead he yanked up the bottom of
Suguro’s shirt and shoved his hand in between their bodies, raking it across
Suguro’s stomach, feeling the muscles flex as Suguro thrust against him. “Man,
you’re pretty ripped!”
“Could we do without...the color commentary?” Suguro panted, and Rin snickered,
stroking the ridges of his abs, tracing the waistband of his pants, Suguro’s
stomach contracting, shivering, beneath that touch as Suguro’s breath caught.
 You like this. Rin wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to lick him
everywhere, taste the salt of his skin, feel him squirm. It would be a lot of
licking. Rin pressed his mouth to what he could reach, Suguro’s shoulder where
it curved up to his neck, set his teeth in the skin, very, very gently, felt
Suguro gasp and shudder. Releasing Suguro, he ran his tongue lightly over that
spot, then lifted his head, put his mouth to Suguro’s ear again.
“Harder,” he breathed. “Are you a man or aren’t’cha?”
Suguro made a rough sound deep in his throat and rolled them half over, so that
Rin was beneath him. Oh yeah, this, so good, heat and weight, the driving
rhythm that jarred his whole body now, Suguro grinding in between his legs as
he bucked up into that pressure, the muscles of Suguro’s back and shoulders
knotting beneath Rin’s roaming hands as he pushed himself up on his arms above
Rin, fucking strong, awesome. So, so good, and the whole world seemed to narrow
down to raw sensation, the friction of cloth against his straining cock, his
tail sliding in the crack of his ass with each thrust, the throbbing pulse in
his crotch that grew and grew until all he could do was close his eyes and gasp
for breath as his body arched of its own accord, trying to get closer, closer,
c’mon, Suguro, c’mon—
Ah—
Like the eruption of his flames but not—no fear, nothing to hold in check, only
purest release, this white-hot, searing burst of pleasure as he came, all that
built-up tension letting go at once. He closed his eyes, his body shaking as
that wave rushed through him, blanking out everything but yes, yes, yes! Almost
violent, then gentling, fading at last into a lingering slow burn of
contentment. Rin sighed, letting his head fall back against the grass. It took
him a second or two to realize that that Suguro was still working.
Oh. That’s right. He rolled his hips, meeting Suguro’s thrusts, slid his hands
down Suguro’s back to curve around his ass and pull him even closer. Suguro
must have been very near—he jerked, trembling, went briefly still. Rin stared
up into his face, his eyes closed, the familiar furrow of tension between his
brows, his lip caught in his teeth. Abruptly he slumped, then heaved himself to
one side, rolling off Rin. They lay on their backs, side by side, staring up at
the sky, Suguro breathing in low huffs that gradually slowed toward stillness.
Oh God. He’d done it. Stone-cold sober and the light of day, he’d fucked
Suguro. Or had he just gotten fucked? He wasn’t sure how it worked out when
nobody penetrated anybody. Maybe it was mutual. The thought should’ve been
weird and uncomfortable, but instead it put a warm glow in him, echo of that
delicious heat of arousal. He rested his hand on the front of his pants, felt
the slight dampness there. Luckily dark pants hid a multitude of sins.
Had it been a sin? If he’d still been living in the monastery, he’d have had to
confess. The thought of his father sent a pang through him, as usual. He let
himself feel that pain, just for a moment, then set it aside. Don’t think about
death. Don’t think about grief. You’re alive, right now. He certainly felt
alive, every centimeter from his head to his toes tingling, awake. Would he do
it again? Oh, fuck, yes. He played it back in his mind, snatches of memory, of
pure sensation, his hand splayed across his crotch, slowly kneading. He caught
his breath as he felt himself stir again, a distinct tightening, a quiver of
reawakening need. His mouth curving into a slow smile, he twisted around,
rolling over onto his side to look at Suguro.
 
 
 
 
The hydrangeas seemed to shimmer as Ryuuji gazed at them through slitted eyes,
their sun-caught florets nearly the same color as Satan’s flames, the even
bluer sky soaring beyond them. His brain had just about come to grips with What
did I do? and Oh God, that felt good, but hadn’t quite gotten past the hurdle
of Now what? As he lay drifting in that mental void, he was startled when Rin
hove into view, dropping down with a thump to lay draped over his chest. “Oof,”
Ryuuji grunted. “What?” Rin was smiling in a rather disturbing way as he slid
one leg over to straddle Ryuuji, and Ryuuji realized with a jolt that Rin was
hard, the solid lump in his pants prodding into Ryuuji’s thigh as he moved.
With his pointed ears and fanged grin, his slowly lashing tail and intent
stare, Rin looked like a beast crouching over its prey.
“Suguro....”
Holy shit. He’d created a monster. Or maybe just woken one up. “What, again?
Now?” he growled, suppressing faint alarm. “What the hell. Haven’t you ever
heard of a refractory period?”
“Ref-wha?” Rin blinked at him, momentarily confused, then shrugged, apparently
deciding that vocabulary was irrelevant to his interests. His gaze shifted—he
hooked his fingers into Ryuuji’s half-opened shirt and began undoing the
remaining buttons.
“No way,” Ryuuji said firmly. He managed to push himself halfway upright
despite Rin lying on him and grabbed for the intrusive hand. “Goddamned sex
fiend.”
“Rooster-haired wimp.”
Ryuuji glared. Rin’s tail snaked playfully up his side, ticklish and startling,
distracting; Ryuuji let go of Rin’s hand to smack at the tail and it swished
away again, out of reach. “Horny pervert freak.”
Rin rocked him back onto his elbows, leaning forward so that they were nearly
nose to nose, his smile fierce and feral, challenging. “Tight-assed, limp-
dicked teacher’s pet.”
Ryuuji’s eyes narrowed; he was not going to goddamned lose this fight.
“Cocksucker.” Rin started, going slightly pink, and Ryuuji suddenly realized
that this was not the right context for that particular insult. He felt himself
turning red as well. “U-Uh. N-,” never mind, he was going to say, didn’t mean
that, but Rin was looking...thoughtful, and it was easily the most terrifying
expression Ryuuji had seen on him yet. Rin wriggled slowly backward; spreading
the shirt further open, he bent to tongue Ryuuji’s piercing, his head cocked to
watch Ryuuji’s reaction. Ryuuji’s flush intensified. That tongue traveled
lower, flicking, trailing, unhurried, as Rin unbuttoned his shirt all the way,
as Rin’s fingers slid beneath Ryuuji’s waistband to stroke and curl against the
skin. They undid his pants, parted his fly, and drew him out, still sticky from
the last go, soft and vulnerable in Rin’s cupped hand. Ryuuji’s stomach tensed
as Rin bent lower, hesitated, then ran a searching, exploratory lick along his
entire length. Rin lifted his head again and made a face. “Bleah.”
“D-Don’t do it if you’re gonna bitch.” Oh please, yes, do it, do me like that.
Rin gave a little sniff; he leaned forward once more, and after a momentary
hitch to get rid of his tie, which was threatening to get in the way, he began
mouthing at Ryuuji’s dick, still a little tentative at first, then with more
intensity, licking, grazing, sucking, his fingers questing, stroking constantly
wherever his mouth wasn’t. That damn hairclip was coming in handy once again,
Ryuuji thought dazedly, and not just for Rin’s sake, but because it gave him a
clear view of the long pink sweep of that tongue, of Rin’s heavy-lidded,
unfocused gaze as he nuzzled into Ryuuji’s crotch, his lips parted and wet. The
sight made Ryuuji twitch; he was hardening fast, swelling in Rin’s grasp. Rin
went hnnn, low purr of satisfaction right against the skin, and that vibration
almost drove him crazy. He thought he was going to explode on the spot.
Gasping, he tried to hold on, to go further, but Rin had both hands on him now,
moving, moving, fingers playing with him, surprisingly deft and skillful. He
couldn’t—long, purposeful strokes were already sweeping  him toward climax,
building and building—Rin caught his gaze, then bent low again, and with
luxuriant deliberateness ran his tongue all over the head of Ryuuji’s dick,
swirling it around, his hot stare never wavering, as if he was hungry for it,
oh God—
“Ngh! I’m gonna—” was all the warning he was able to manage before he came
blindingly hard, his whole body spasming with the rush. He flung his head back,
shuddering, gulping for breath. What seemed like an eternity of pulsing ecstasy
consumed him, consumed everything in its burning, surging flood; he came back
to his senses only gradually, almost dizzily, back to his pounding heartbeat,
to the lingering tingling ache of pleasure. Back to the weight of Rin slowly
settling astride his waist once more.
He opened his eyes. Rin was wiping a pale streak of come from his cheek with
the back of one hand, and Ryuuji felt himself flush again. Rin’s stare never
left Ryuuji’s face, but there was a blankness to it, his eyes dark and shadowy
as night clouds, focused inward on his own need. From the straining tent in his
pants, he had to be almost painfully hard. Ryuuji swallowed. Okay. He could do
this. Lying back with some trepidation, he reached up as Rin bent toward him,
ran his hands down Rin’s sides, over the small of his back. He closed his
fingers on Rin’s tail, and Rin stiffened, then sank down, shivering, his
forehead pressed to Ryuuji’s chest. Ryuuji began stroking from the root of
Rin’s tail outward; he dug into the underside with his fingers, massaging it,
right where it met the base of Rin’s spine, and Rin moaned aloud, lifted his
ass in the air, his tail arching up over his back until the tip was twitching
somewhere over their heads. Wow. Continuing to slowly work Rin’s tail, Ryuuji
got his hand in between them to open Rin’s pants. He fumbled inside, found Rin
throbbing, hot and stiff; he pressed his hand to that heat, sliding over it,
rubbing, and Rin jerked, his breath stuttering in his throat. As Ryuuji stroked
him further, Rin started rocking between Ryuuji’s hands, short, tense hitches
at first, then faster, harder, thrusting back into his encircling fingers, then
forward against his palm, riding its movements, thighs clenching around
Ryuuji’s hips. He was panting, eyes closed, mouth parted helplessly—absolutely
out of his mind, and it was fucking beautiful. Ryuuji let Rin set the rhythm,
just gave him resistance, something to push against, and watched him masturbate
himself with ever-growing fervency. It made Ryuuji’s breath come short just to
see it, to feel Rin bucking and writhing above him. Rin’s hands were knotted in
the grass—Ryuuji heard the blades tearing as Rin let out a hoarse little cry,
as his hips rolled and then spasmed, lifting, and wet warmth gushed into
Ryuuji’s hand. Rin’s expression tightened, his face twisting almost wildly,
then suddenly relaxed with a low gasp as he sagged. Ryuuji pulled his hand out
of Rin’s pants, and Rin collapsed at once, slithering off him to lie limply by
his side, curled up next to him.
Staring at his hand, Ryuuji shook his dripping fingers, then wiped it several
times on the grass until it was as clean as he could get it. His heart was
still beating fast; he was a little afraid to think about everything that had
just happened. Not that a part of him didn’t want to, was replaying what it had
felt like, fleeting images of Rin’s face in mindless lust and in orgasm, but it
had been so much—too much? He didn’t even know.
How the hell did one go on from something like this?
“Hey,” Rin said suddenly, brightly, with what sounded like suspiciously too
much energy for someone who’d just had his brains fucked out twice in fifteen
minutes, and Ryuuji stiffened, horrified.
“What?” Oh God, he couldn’t possibly....
Rin propped himself up on one elbow, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. “I wanna
call you Bon.”
Ryuuji relaxed again. This at least was familiar territory. “Hmph! Absolutely
not.”
“C’mon!” Rin dug his toes into Ryuuji’s ankle, a playful not-quite kick. “And
you can call me Rin.”
Ryuuji hesitated, staring straight up into the brilliant summer sky, wondering
at his own uncertainty.
Maybe...somehow....
Shifting his shoulders in an almost imperceptible shrug, he closed his eyes.
“I’ll think about it.”
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