Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2251236.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Eyeshield_21
  Relationship:
      Kakei_Shun/Mizumachi_Kengo
  Character:
      Kakei_Shun, Mizumachi_Kengo
  Additional Tags:
      Blow_Jobs, Late_Night_Conversations, Inline_with_canon, Established
      Relationship, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, No_Plot/Plotless, Semi-
      Public_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-04 Words: 3755
****** Bright ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Mizumachi is balanced improbably on the narrow edge at the top of
     the fence, and for just a moment, looking up at the silhouette of the
     other boy high above him, Kakei’s rational panic went silent." A
     continuation of Kakei and Mizumachi's late-night rooftop
     conversation.
Kakei can’t remember how to breathe.
It was panic, to start, a brief surge of unadulterated horror as Mizumachi
leapt in his periphery, the same instinctive adrenaline that hits when watching
a cup fall off the edge of a table. But then the motion had stopped, Mizumachi
balanced improbably on the narrow edge at the top of the fence, and for just a
moment, looking up at the silhouette of the other boy high above him, Kakei’s
rational panic went silent. The breathless shock that hit him then was of a
different sort, reverent and wide-eyed; concerns of safety evaporated into
insane faith, illogical and unavoidable.
In that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see Mizumachi fly.
The other boy had turned smoothly after a moment, smiling down at Kakei with
his usual foolish cheer, unaware that his position transformed the expression
into a benediction. Then he jumped down, a smooth arc back to solid ground, and
Kakei’s heartbeat stuttered up into overdrive, delayed reaction now that the
danger had passed.
“What were you doing?” he demands, surging forward to grab desperately at
Mizumachi’s arm as if to hold him in place, keep him on the ground and out of
range of further insane stunts. “You could have fallen.”
Mizumachi laughs, bright and sparkling like the stars overhead even before he
looks back up at the top of the fence like he’s thinking of trying it again.
Kakei tightens his hold, presses his fingertips in hard against the heat of the
other boy’s skin, but it doesn’t offer any comfort, he’s not sure Mizumachi
won’t slip this tether as easily as he does that of gravity.
“I didn’t,” he says, as if that resolves all Kakei’s concerns. “I was fine.”
His weight comes up, bounces idly on the balls of his feet, and Kakei grabs at
his other arm, closes his fingers around Mizumachi’s wrist as a second point of
contact. He’s breathing too hard, the air is catching in his throat, and he’s
not sure if that tension he can feel choking him is laughter or belated tears
of fright. He tips his head, blinks hard at the asymmetrical pattern on
Mizumachi’s shirt and waits for confirmation that his eyes aren’t going to
overflow.
Mizumachi’s arm shifts, but he’s not pulling away. Fingers curl around Kakei’s
elbow, a matching hold locking their arms together so Kakei can feel the slide
of Mizumachi’s skin all against his forearm, the dig of the other’s wrist into
the soft spot just in front of his elbow. When he looks up the other boy is
looking at him instead of the sky, his unfettered smile still clinging
unthought to his lips.
“Were you even seeing anything?” Mizumachi asks. He’s not looking away, barely
blinking; Kakei can feel his own face warming with self-consciousness under the
steadiness of that gaze, but the other boy is oblivious or uncaring or both.
Kakei’s not actually sure he knows what it is to be self-conscious; he’s never
seen any evidence of such from Mizumachi, at least.
He has no idea what Mizumachi is talking about, either. “What?”
“The view.” Mizumachi tips his head towards the railing, the light from the
buildings below them. “Even through the fence it’s not bad, this high up.”
Kakei looks. His eyes follow the line of Mizumachi’s inclined head, catch on
the edge of the railing he was leaning on before, the interruption of the fence
-- then his focus shifts, drops the metal pattern out of importance, and the
city opens up in front of him, the view he couldn’t see before for the
distraction of his own thoughts. It’s lit up like the sky, the heavy shapes of
the dark buildings sprinkled with the sparkle of lights inside, and for a
breath the visual to enough to drag Kakei’s attention away even from the casual
heat of Mizumachi’s skin against his, pull his thoughts sideways from
cataloging the press of the blond’s fingertips into his skin.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Mizumachi does pull free, then, lets his hold go and twists free as
easily as if the other boy doesn’t have a hold on his arm at all. His wrist is
moving too, so for a moment Kakei thinks he’s losing the contact entirely, but
when he pulls it’s too slow to break away and instead serves as a gentle tug,
urging Kakei back around to lean against the railing. When Kakei looks down the
air sweeps down the sheer side of the building, hits his breathing with another
surge of excitement that he thinks would be vertigo in someone else. For him
there’s no dizziness, no nausea and no panic, not with Mizumachi next to him
and safe from the fall; there’s just a rush of energy, like his body is proving
he’s alive by thudding his heartbeat fast in his ears.
“We’ll go,” Mizumachi says at Kakei’s elbow. His wrist slides away,
deliberately slipping from Kakei’s hold, but then his fingers are taking its
place, catching and winding in against the other boy’s as easily as he swung
himself up onto the fence.
Kakei nods without looking away, raises his chin so his vision sweeps out to
the horizon instead of down over that drop. “To the top,” he finishes for the
blond, flexing his fingers more to demonstrate that he’s not pulling away than
to actually adjust his hold at all. He can see Mizumachi smile in his
periphery, can feel the other’s movement as he comes closer. He doesn’t turn
in, doesn’t look away from the cityscape even when Mizumachi presses in against
his shoulder and huffs a warm breath against his neck. His blink is a little
slower than it needs to be, more a flutter of eyelashes as his focus give way
to anticipation, but he still doesn’t turn. If anything he angles his head the
other direction, turns the motion into a silent offering so Mizumachi can lean
in closer and press his lips to Kakei’s night-chill skin.
Kakei does shut his eyes, then. Mizumachi is humming, low under his breath; he
always does, that Kakei has found, though he’s not sure the blond knows about
his own habit. But it’s easy to tell when Mizumachi’s mouth is against his neck
or his wrist or his lips, the constant tickle of vibration like he’s murmuring
secrets so softly they can only be felt instead of heard. Kakei’s not really
seeing anything anymore, in spite of his open eyes; all his attention is
narrowing to the feel of Mizumachi’s mouth catching damp against his throat,
the catch of a delighted laugh over the other boy’s tongue. When he tightens
his fingers Mizumachi squeezes right back, his grip steady and strong, and when
Kakei slides his thumb out to hook around the other’s wrist he can feel
Mizumachi smile, a breath of advance warning before fingers reach out to catch
and close on the far edge of Kakei’s shirt to pull him around.
It doesn’t take much effort. Kakei’s turning anyway, blinking slow and
instinctive so his vision fragments into starlight gold and the flash of
Mizumachi’s smile in the moment before they both lean in, reaching for each
other with a movement more instinct than anything else. Kakei doesn’t need to
see to tip his head to the side, and Mizumachi doesn’t have to slow down before
their lips are fitting into place against each other and the electricity is
under Kakei’s skin instead of in his vision. There’s a brush of air against
Kakei’s hair, the everpresent breeze of high places, and then Mizumachi’s
fingers are curling in against the back of his neck, Mizumachi is half-stepping
in closer to press in against him, and Kakei forgets where they are for just a
moment. He is here, and he has Mizumachi purring against his mouth and tasting
his lower lip, and that’s all that is really important for this breath. He
inhales the cool of the night air, and Mizumachi laughs into his mouth, and
when the blond pulls back so he can shift his head and fit his lips against the
flutter of Kakei’s pulse the other boy turns his head up, blinks at the stars
and lets his body go warm and shaky under Mizumachi’s touch.
He’s still looking up when the other boy lets his neck go, slides his fingers
down across Kakei’s t-shirt to catch at the bottom of the fabric, push it up
off the other boy’s hips so he can press his fingers in against Kakei’s skin
and catch his little finger under the top of the other boy’s jeans. Kakei can
feel the resistance catch under his skin, can feel his spine go stiff with
awkward self-consciousness as he glances sideways, out at the lights that look
more like an audience with just the addition of Mizumachi’s touch under his
waistband.
“Mizumachi,” Kakei says, the words shaking too much to stand as a warning.
“We’re in public.”
Mizumachi leans in closer, slides his hand around until his fingers are bracing
at the small of Kakei’s back, his pinky still hinting at not-quite-decency. “No
one can see us up here,” he points out. Kakei keeps looking out at the city
while Mizumachi goes on, his words gusting warm against the other boy’s skin.
“You can look down but no one looks up.” His hand dips down a little lower,
touches against the line of propriety and skips over it as he catches two
fingers together under the elastic of Kakei’s boxers.
“I’m not an exhibitionist like you are,” Kakei protests, but he’s not pushing
Mizumachi away. His hand are stalled against the blond’s waist and braced on
his shoulder, fingers working idly over the other’s body as he tries to
convince himself to move away, to grab at Mizumachi’s wrist and pull his hand
away. But he isn’t moving, and then Mizumachi laughs like sunshine against his
shoulder and Kakei knows, then, that he’d agree to anything at all.
“I’m not an exhibitionist,” Mizumachi says, but it has the shape of habit
instead of real protest, Kakei can hear the smile in the breath against his
skin. “So you won’t let me jerk you off at the railing?”
“Let you,” Kakei repeats back, almost laughing. “You make it sound like I’d be
doing you a favor.”
“You would be,” Mizumachi says immediately, without any suggestion of
hesitation under the words, and Kakei’s skin flushes hot with pleasure and
embarrassment together. “I’ve always wanted to. This is the first time I’ve had
the chance.”
“No,” Kakei says reflexively, but he’s still not moving, doesn’t move his hands
and doesn’t push Mizumachi away. It takes a moment; the implication is a little
too subtle, Kakei can feel Mizumachi huff in resignation and tense in
expectation of pulling away. But then the blond goes still, Kakei can almost
hear the thoughts in his head catch out-of-rhythm in his breathing, and when he
moves it’s to angle his fingers in an inch lower rather than to pull away.
“Please,” he says, humming under the word again, and Kakei takes a breath that
sticks in his throat, turns his breathing shaky and anxious.
“No,” he says again, more firmly this time. “We should at least move over next
to the door.”
The delight is Mizumachi’s laugh is worth the capitulation, worth the teasing
and the panicked adrenaline still thrumming Kakei’s blood into trembling
warmth. The touch at Kakei’s hip vanishes, Mizumachi’s fingers close on his
wrist instead, and he’s moving away faster than Kakei expects, dragging the
other boy in his wake by his hold on his wrist. Kakei stumbles forward,
startled into a huffed laugh even before Mizumachi gets his free hand at the
bottom of his shirt so he can peel it up and over his head. The fabric catches
on his wrist, tangles around their hands, but Mizumachi doesn’t let go until
he’s reached the wall. Then he’s grabbing Kakei’s shoulder, letting his hand
and the shirt go at once, and Kakei doesn’t have much of an option but to let
himself be pushed forward, turned around so his shoulders hit the wall behind
him. The light spilling out of the door’s window is to his right; both he and
Mizumachi are in the shadows of the night, the darkness turning the shine of
Mizumachi’s eyes to echoes of starlight. That catches Kakei’s breath, stops his
coherency for a moment, and Mizumachi doesn’t wait. His fingers are pushing at
the edge of Kakei’s shirt, he’s leaning in close so his skin catches on Kakei’s
as fast as the fabric slides up. Kakei shuts his eyes to the endless sparkle of
Mizumachi’s gaze, lets the spreading warmth of the other boy’s hands override
his senses until all he is is a canvas for Mizumachi’s touch, a singular
reaction to the rush of the blond’s breath over his lips and the drag of his
fingers over skin. Mizumachi takes a step, fits his leg in between Kakei’s;
Kakei rocks up off the wall, just for more contact, and Mizumachi catches a
breath, chokes like all his stamina is failing him, and the rushing awareness
of his power pulls Kakei back from passivity.
His fingers fit in against Mizumachi’s hips, he pulls the blond hard against
him, and he can feel the shudder that washes Mizumachi’s body liquid and
pliant. His smile comes easy, his mouth fits in against the blond’s bare
shoulder, and while Mizumachi is gasping under the contact Kakei is dragging
his hand sideways, finding the edge of the blond’s shorts and pushing his
fingers past the fabric, curling his fingers in around the other boy’s length.
Mizumachi’s hand pulls away from Kakei’s skin, comes up to land flat on the
wall over the other boy’s shoulder. Kakei can see the tension pulling tight
under Mizumachi’s skin as he braces himself, but the blond’s face is still
relaxed, his smile still as easy and unthought as it always is. Kakei can feel
the constant tension of his existence fade off in response to that expression
even before Mizumachi leans in to catch his lips on the dip between Kakei’s
collarbones and steal all the strength from his legs. Kakei drops back against
the wall, tips his head back so he’s looking back up at the sky, and lets his
throat purr around an appreciative incoherency as he settles his fingers in
place and starts to stroke up over Mizumachi. He can feel the moaning shiver of
reaction against his skin before he braces his fingers against the blond’s hip
and speeds the movement of his hand. The sound Mizumachi makes is a groan and a
whimper and a laugh all together, his mouth is warm and damp, the mark of his
lips evaporating into cool with the motion of the wind around them, and Kakei’s
thoughts are spiraling free, lifting loose of gravity and floating up and away
until all there is is the heat of Mizumachi’s hands on him, Mizumachi’s breath
at his shoulder. All his tension is sliding into the blond’s body, winding
tighter with anticipation as Kakei strokes a little harder, a little faster,
coaxes Mizumachi up to the edge until Kakei thinks he’s holding them both up,
that it’s only the hand clinging to his shoulder keeping Mizumachi on his feet.
The blond is starting to shake, gasp and shudder out-of-time with Kakei’s
strokes, the reaction catching on its own feedback until the conclusion is
inevitable, until Kakei thinks he could stop moving entirely and it wouldn’t
affect the outcome.
He doesn’t stop. If anything he speeds up, turns his wrist to get a better
angle and tightens his hold on Mizumachi’s hip, holds the other boy in place so
he can take longer strokes over him, can find and hold a rhythm even as
Mizumachi gasps and catches bruising hard at his shoulder.
“I’m --” Mizumachi stutters, pushes his forehead hard against Kakei’s shoulder,
and it’s Kakei’s breathing that catches in his throat at the sound, like all
the tight-wound almost-there in Mizumachi’s body is bleeding into his directly.
He can hear Mizumachi take a breath, deep and bracing and steadying; then Kakei
slides his hand down once more, starts to stroke back up, and Mizumachi
shudders and groans and comes over the other boy’s fingers.
He’s barely caught his breath -- Kakei can still feel him trembling with the
aftershocks -- when he lets the other boy’s shoulder go, reaches down to grab
Kakei’s wrist and slide his hand free. Kakei is still blinking at him, trying
to recollect his attention to his own body instead of focused on Mizumachi’s,
when the blond steps back so he can drop down to his knees.
“Ah,” Kakei manages. Mizumachi’s pushing his shirt back up from where it had
fallen during his temporary distraction, dragging the heat of his lips across
the skin while he pulls the front of the other boy’s pants open. Kakei reaches
out, touches his clean hand against the soft tangle of Mizumachi’s hair and
earns himself a humming smile against his skin as the zipper of his pants comes
down.
“Look up,” Mizumachi says as he pulls back, tugs Kakei’s clothes down off his
hips so they fall around his ankles and the breeze catches chill at Kakei’s
skin, makes him shiver until Mizumachi’s fingers close at his hips to offer
counteracting warmth. He tips his head back obediently, blinks up at the sky,
and he’s just starting to feel the nighttime peace settle into his blood when
there’s a rush of heat, warmth and wet and friction, and even knowing it’s
Mizumachi’s mouth isn’t enough to restrain the gasp in his throat or the clutch
of his fingers in the other’s hair. Mizumachi hums again, in response or
appreciation or both, and Kakei lets his breath go, steadies his shoulders
against the wall and loosens his hold and lets the heat ripple out over him
from Mizumachi’s mouth. It’s always hard to relax into this; Kakei’s instinct
is to reach for the sensation, arch up off the wall to press in deeper for more
heat and more speed and more, faster. But looking up he can’t see Mizumachi’s
movements, there’s just the endless peace of the sky overhead, so even when the
other boy’s mouth slides over him Kakei just catches his breath for a moment,
when Mizumachi’s tongue drags against him he lets his weight fall more heavily
against the wall instead of tensing in against the friction. His vision goes
hazy, the stars twinkle bright in his slipping attention; Kakei’s fingers are
dropping down, touching against the heat at the back of Mizumachi’s neck
instead of resting at the top of his head, and Mizumachi hums again, long and
drawn-out like he’s putting sound to his breathing. Kakei can feel his
heartbeat thudding hard in his throat, the pulse of his blood washing in waves
under his skin, and his breathing is going audible too, turning into almost-
moans over the tension in his tipped-back throat. Mizumachi’s fingers dig
harder into his hips, pull him farther forward an inch, and Kakei doesn’t fight
it, lets the blond drag him where he ought to be, because the sky is starting
to drop out of focus and his breathing is catching high in his chest and as
long as Mizumachi doesn’t stop he’ll do anything.
He tries to put a warning to it, tries to form his lips and tongue around the
words, but all that he manages is a whining groan, a grab at the other boy’s
hair. But Mizumachi makes a sound around him, the appreciation clear even
without the words, and when his mouth slides back down Kakei blinks, and lets
the darkness in his eyes burst into incoherent white for a moment while heat
rushes out into him and sweeps away everything else.
He’s still glazed, warm and heavy with the aftermath of pleasure, when
Mizumachi pulls away and gets to his feet. The blond is grinning, his delight
so contagious it catches the corners of Kakei’s mouth into a smile before
Mizumachi leans in quick, presses his mouth against the other boy’s. Kakei can
taste the bitter on the blond’s tongue, can feel the lingering adrenaline
shaking in the other’s fingers as they settle briefly against his hips. Then
Mizumachi steps back, starts to look for his abandoned shirt, and Kakei catches
his breath, steadies his footing, and moves to pull his clothes back into
place.
“By the railing,” Kakei offers without looking up. There’s a chirp of
appreciation, the sound of Mizumachi jogging across the rooftop, and Kakei
can’t repress his smile as he finishes fastening his pants. When he looks up
Mizumachi is coming back, using his shirt to wipe his skin dry rather than
actually putting it back on.
“You can’t go back down shirtless,” Kakei protests weakly.
Mizumachi looks up and flashes a grin before tossing the shirt to the other
boy. “Sure I can,” he declares as Kakei cedes the point in favor of wiping his
sticky fingers clean. “No one will care.”
“Everyone cares,” Kakei points out. “They’ve just given up on arguing.”
Mizumachi’s smile lights his whole face up with amusement. “Whatever.” He moves
to the door, ducks his head to peer through the window and back down the
stairwell to belatedly check for any other visitors. Kakei stays where he is,
watches the way the light turns Mizumachi’s night-white hair gold and shining.
Mizumachi looks back at him, crosses the distance between them in one long
stride, and Kakei doesn’t have time to react before Mizumachi is kissing him
again, presses his mouth against the other boy’s for a brief moment of warmth.
Kakei’s still trying to blink the stars from his eyes when Mizumachi pulls
away, reaches out to circle his fingers around the other boy’s wrist.
“Come on,” he says, and when he pulls Kakei follows, stumbling in the wake of
his current. “Let’s go.”
Mizumachi pulls the door open, starts to lead them back down the stairs. His
back is to Kakei, there’s no way he can see the words Kakei silently shapes, to
the top like a promise whispered to no one. But his fingers draw tight for a
moment, like his body is reacting automatically to the movement of Kakei’s
mouth, the imprint of each finger perfect against Kakei’s wrist.
When they get to the ground again, Kakei’s smiling as bright as Mizumachi.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!