Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/42161.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tennis_no_Oujisama_|_Prince_of_Tennis
  Relationship:
      Saeki/Yuuta
  Character:
      Saeki_Koujirou, Fuji_Yuuta
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, drabble_game
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-12-31 Words: 1001
****** Hanabi ******
by Lys_ap_Adin_(lysapadin)
Summary
     They're probably not going to make it to watch the fireworks, but
     then, the fireworks really aren't that important.
Notes
     Smut, with incidental goldfish. For a round of drabble_game, prompt:
     "The night, lit up." 1001 words.
Yuuta's shoulders are very straight in his yukata, which is dark grey like his
eyes and patterned with fine stripes that draw Koujirou's eyes along the lines
of Yuuta's body and his thoughts to places where they shouldn't ought to be.
Yuuta has a bag with a goldfish in it dangling from one wrist and sweat beading
at his temples, and he gives Koujirou an impatient look. "Come on, slowpoke,
we're going to miss the fireworks."
"The fireworks, right," Koujirou says, distracted by the way Yuuta's yukata
gaps at the throat and shows the wings of his collarbones, the skin there
gleaming with sweat in the light of the lanterns swinging overhead.
"Yeah, the fireworks, come on." Yuuta doesn't wait for him to get with it, and
reaches out, long tennis-calloused fingers wrapping around Koujirou's wrist,
and tugs him along through the crowd. "If we don't hurry, we're going to get
shafted on the good seats."
Koujirou only half-listens, because most of his attention is taken up by the
rasp of Yuuta's fingers against his inner wrist and the way his brain has gone
syrup-slow and stupid with lust. Yuuta doesn't bother with waiting for a reply,
anyway. "I think we can cut through here," he announces, and pulls Koujirou
into the gap between a pair of vendor's stalls.
It's darker behind the row of stalls, and quieter, now that they're away from
the bustle of the crowd. Yuuta tugs Koujirou along, complaining all the while
that they're going to miss out on the good seats, and never mind that they
probably have. Koujirou follows along, obediently, until Yuuta takes a sharp
left down a little alley, and then a right down another, and then a third turn
that turns out to be a dead end where two buildings abut the back wall of a
third.
"Shit," Yuuta says, glaring at the wall like he thinks it'll magically turn
into a door that leads them to the hillside where they'd planned on watching
the fireworks. "We're definitely going to be late now."
"Mm," Koujirou says, distracted by the fact that Yuuta has managed to stumble
on the one private spot in the whole damn festival. It's practically a miracle,
what with all the crowds.
Yuuta turns and gives him a suspicious look. "What do you mean, 'mm'? Don't you
care?"
He gives that all the consideration it's due when Yuuta is standing there and
they're alone. "Not really," Koujirou says, and moves in for the kill.
"Hey," Yuuta says, when Koujirou crowds him against the wall, and then, "Sae!"
when Koujirou runs his mouth along the side of Yuuta's throat, tongue tracing
over the tendon there and lapping at the salt of Yuuta's sweat. Koujirou hums
to him, hands finding Yuuta's hips, and nips at his earlobe.
All the resistance runs out of Yuuta at once. "I guess the fireworks aren't
that important," he says, and hooks the goldfish-free arm around Koujirou's
shoulders, hauling him closer.
That's pretty much what Koujirou thinks, at least in the last bits of his brain
that are bothering with thinking at all. Then he finds Yuuta's mouth and
there's no room in his head except for the slickness of Yuuta's tongue against
his and the cotton under his hands, and the way Yuuta's breath hitches when
Koujirou presses against him. It's been a long evening of having to look at
Yuuta without getting to touch him. Now Koujirou is making up for lost time,
hands stroking down the leanness of Yuuta's body and mouth moving down the
other side of Yuuta's throat as Yuuta gasps and arches against him.
There's more than one reason to like Yuuta in a yukata: he doesn't just look
good in it, it's convenient, too. Koujirou mouths the sweep of one of Yuuta's
collarbones as he slides a hand inside Yuuta's yukata, pushing aside layers of
cotton and wrapping his hands around Yuuta's cock. Yuuta groans, his hips
rolling into Koujirou's grip, and his arm tightens around Koujirou's shoulder.
Koujirou sucks on Yuuta's shoulder and plays his fingers over Yuuta's cock,
letting them slide over the smooth hot skin of him, as Yuuta gasps and shudders
and then finally breaks apart with a low cry, body taut and straining against
his.
"Fuck," Yuuta says, slumping against the wall, breathing hard, when he finally
stops shaking. "Fuck, Sae."
"Kind of, yeah," Koujirou agrees, and steals another kiss.
Yuuta just snorts into his mouth, and then pushes at his chest, backing him up
till Koujirou's shoulders hit the opposite wall. "Yeah, yeah. Hold this." He
shoves something into Koujirou's hands, something heavy--the goldfish, Koujirou
realizes, belatedly, it must be so traumatized by all this. He laughs at the
thought, even as Yuuta is sinking to his knees and folding Koujirou's own
yukata out of the way. Then the laugh catches in his throat as Yuuta leans
forward and strokes his tongue against Koujirou's cock.
Yuuta's mouth is hot around him. The pleasure that drives through Koujirou
makes his head fall back, just in time to see the first of the fireworks
explode across the sky over them, brilliant red and gold and silver and green
against the dark of the sky. Koujirou pants against the sticky heat of the
night air and the wetness of Yuuta's mouth sliding over him, slow and
exquisite, until he can't tell which are the real fireworks and which are the
ones painting themselves against the insides of his eyelids as he comes,
shoulders digging against the bricks at his back as he shudders.
When he opens his eyes again, Yuuta is leaning against the wall next to him,
face turned up to the sky and the play of lights there. The fireworks reflect
against the gleam of his smile and in his eyes. "'s kind of pretty," he says,
without taking his eyes from the fireworks.
"Yeah," Koujirou says, not even looking up, and reaches over to fit their hands
together. "It kind of is."
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