Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/82906.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ookiku_Furikabutte
  Relationship:
      Izumi_Kousuke/Mizutani_Fumiki
  Character:
      Izumi_Kousuke, Mizutani_Fumiki
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Bad_Sex, DVD_Commentary
  Series:
      Part 4 of Brand_New_Endings
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-04-26 Completed: 2010-09-14 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 10765
****** Wonder ******
by factorielle
Summary
     Nobody is born a sex god.
Notes
     Many thanks to Yukitsu for her hard work on the proofreading.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Izumi Kousuke had never been jealous of girls.
Growing up, he'd felt the occasional twinge of envy: his brother had been
scolded into a personal policy of never picking on girls, and Kousuke had
sometimes felt that wearing a dress on occasion would be a small price to pay
to be left alone.
After discovering that he preferred to look at his teammates in the locker room
than at the short hem of his classmates' uniform skirts, there had been a few
weeks of unease; but, he'd decided, there was no way he was swapping his body
for a girl's even if it made things easier in that regard.
Now, going on eighteen and content, if not happy, with every aspect of his
life, he was catching up on a lifetime of longing.
The thing was, girls had magazines. He'd always seen them around, in the
streets, the train, the convenience store. But he'd never really paid attention
until last week, when, back from training camp, all the front page articles had
jumped out at him.
ARE YOU READY?
YOU'VE DECIDED TO HAVE SEX. NOW WHAT?
HOW TO MAKE THE FIRST TIME PERFECT.
HOW GOOD ARE YOU IN BED?
IDOLS SPEAK: 'MY WORST SEXUAL EXPERIENCE'
TEN TIPS TO MAKE HIM COME BACK FOR MORE
And while he could guess that most of these articles attempted to delve into
what they probably called the 'male psyche', which he didn't need explained,
and that the advice given was probably flat and applicable to any and all
situations, he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. However cheesy and
pointless it seemed, girls got guidance. Something to rely on when their wits
failed them – which happened to him a lot more than he would have liked,
whenever 'Mizutani' and 'sex' came up in the same thought.
They tended to be pretty much intertwined these days, since he'd learned that
next week-end, as Mizutani's parents were leaving town and his sister was
sleeping over at her boyfriend's, they were going to Have Sex. And next week-
end was now.
After weeks of being all over each other whenever they could get away with it,
it shouldn't have been intimidating. It was only a natural progression, one
that he'd hoped they'd come to eventually. Only, whenever he'd let himself
think about it, it had been just that: natural. He hadn't walked up the last
few meters to the Mizutani household thinking when I get out of here again we
will have Done It. There hadn't been a schedule.
The door opened before he'd even had time to ring, which gave him no time to
seriously consider the option of turning heel and running away, but also none
to calm down at all.
"Hey." Mizutani was dressed casually, barefoot, and visibly ill-at-ease.
"Hey." Izumi wasn't sure if he should be relieved that they were both nervous.
He took his time taking off his shoes, a corner of his mind wondering if
Shigapo would have any tips for such a situation. Maybe he could dare Tajima to
ask, and make sure he'd never, ever know what the answer was.
Then he was done, and they were standing face to face with an invisible wall
between them, and Izumi didn't think he'd ever felt so awkward.
"So, do you... want to take a shower?" Mizutani asked, shuffling his feet.
The answer came out before Izumi had had time to think about it. Which was his
only excuse, really. "You don't waste any time, do you."
Mizutani made a choking noise and started flailing his arms in denegation.
"That's- No, that's not..." Then he caught Izumi's expression and gave an
embarrassed chuckle, which quickly turned into a shared case of semi hysterical
laughter.
"I brought my homework," Izumi said once the worst of it had passed, taking the
tense silence along with it. "We're having a study session, remember? Got to
have something to show for it."
"Er," Mizutani coughed, leading the way to the living room. "Actually, my
parents think I'm taking advantage of the situation to have my girlfriend
over."
Izumi snorted. "Really? Mine think we're taking advantage of the situation to
have a party with the girls from the volleyball club."
Mizutani grimaced. "Huh. Our moms are going to talk about this."
"So it'll add up to an orgy with the volleyball team?" He managed to keep his
voice perfectly flat through the question, but one look at his boyfriend's
expression made him grin and lean in to steal a kiss. Mizutani met him halfway,
and it took Izumi all of six seconds to forget about the English homework he
had honestly been planning on doing. Hand-holding was all well and good, but
there was no amount of awkward tension that couldn't be dispelled like this, by
kissing and touching and pushing against each other, any discomfort overwhelmed
by the desire for contact. What loomed ahead was new and exciting and
terrifying, but this, they knew in and out. Pulling away from a kiss only to be
caught again a moment later, the tactile contrast of fabric and skin, and if
anyone tried to tell him that the way Mizutani moaned when Izumi gripped the
back of his thigh wasn't already sex...
"Did you say something about a shower?" he asked, breathless, barely fast
enough to finish before Mizutani kissed him again, chuckling.
"What about the homework?"
Oh, well, if he was going to play hard to get... "You know, if you really want
to do the homew-"
"Clean towels are on the shelves in the bathroom."
===============================================================================
In hindsight, it might have been better to let things progress by themselves,
shower be damned. Sure, it felt somewhat dirty to be doing this without
cleaning up properly first, but they'd never bothered about it before –
surprise and urgency, places where they could get caught at any moment - and
neither of them had come out worse for it.
He'd already taken a shower before leaving, anyway.
But at least it took care of most of the stripping, and left Izumi alone in
Mizutani's bedroom after he was done, for just long enough to notice the half-
open drawer of the bedside table.
It was full.
Impressively full, in fact.
"Ah..." he heard behind him, but didn't bother to turn around. The contents of
that drawer were a lot more interesting.
"Is the rest of the team coming over later?" he asked blandly.
Mizutani strode from the door to get between him and the drawer. "That's not
funny!" he protested, slightly defensive. "I just wanted to be... prepared, you
know, and last week everyone suddenly started giving me some. My mom, my dad,
my sister, even her boyfriend."
Ah. So Mizutani's family really was expecting him to Become a Man in those few
days. Probably with a gentle girl who would follow his fumbling lead and cook
him dinner afterwards, wearing the T-shirt she'd have shyly tugged off him two
hours earlier. The mental image was really not helping. "So, no pressure,
right?"
Mizutani moaned in dismay, and gave up on hiding the drawer to push himself
between Izumi and the bedside table and flop down on the bed.
Izumi took advantage of the sudden freedom to peer further inside. "I'm
guessing the flavoured ones are from the boyfriend? Green tea ice-cream is a
bold choice."
"He said it was a 'subtle hint'," Mizutani admitted. He was tracing the edge of
the towel wrapped around Izumi's waist, fingertips deliciously cool on his
lower back. "And then he grinned at me. I'm never looking my sister in the face
again."
"I can see why." The height of his embarrassment had been reached two days ago,
when insisting that he was going to a friend's to study had not stopped his
brother from giving him The Talk over the phone. In comparison to Mizutani's
plight, it didn't seem so bad anymore.
He was about to stop his inspection when he found something that was most
emphatically not a square foil wrapper. "I think you got ripped off," he said,
his mouth a little dry. "That tube's half-empty."
There was no answer, but the hand that had been moving up his back fell away.
He turned around to find that Mizutani had thrown his arm over his face, which
didn't quite hide the deep blush on his cheeks.
Izumi shut the drawer and placed a hand flat on Mizutani's stomach. "I'm done."
"About time," his boyfriend muttered sulkily. Still, he moved his arm away,
allowing Izumi to lean down and kiss him.
Maybe it would be better to stick to this. If neither of them was sure enough,
confident enough to follow through with the plan, what was the point? The whole
thing had only come up because of Tajima proudly claiming that he'd first got
laid long ago, but it wasn't like they would be able to go back to school on
Monday and brag to their friends about having crossed the line.
It bothered him sometimes, the tacit need for secrecy. Tajima spent half his
time hanging from Hanai's neck and Abe and Mihashi had clasped hands in the
middle of Koushien Stadium, but there was something different about doing it
with intent. Even though Izumi was reasonably sure that none of his teammates
would think any less of them for it, it was still easier not to let them know
about any of this.
He resented the world for that sometimes, when the harshness of training made
him irritable and possessive. On those days he wanted nothing more than to grab
Mizutani in the middle of the field and claim him in a way that would make it
clear to anyone watching (especially Shinooka because Mizutani had liked her
once, Abe and Hanai because they spent more time with him than Izumi did,
Sakaeguchi for being too friendly, and any of the girls who liked to watch
their practice, just in case) that this left fielder was not available for
anything more than casual conversation. But that was never going to happen, and
it left them with no more pressure than they put on themselves.
He almost considered calling it off, being the one to say it's okay if we don't
do anything new yet, and spending the night and day in bed just touching and
kissing and coming as close as possible to melding together, because anything
that involved them moaning against each other's skin was good enough.
But before that, there was one thing Izumi wanted to know. He broke off the
kiss and pulled away, acutely aware that the towels wrapped around their hips
weren't doing much to hide the very mutual erections they were both sporting.
"Are you going to tell me why that tube is half empty?"
Mizutani immediately looked away, not saying anything. Izumi saw his fingers
fidgeting with the sheet for a few moments before he caught himself and wiped
his hand on his towel.
"I..." Mizutani started. He shook his head, took a deep breath. "Wondered," he
whispered. "How it felt."
Izumi swallowed thickly. He wasn't stupid by any definition, so how had it
taken him so long to notice that this guy was a brain short-circuit waiting to
happen? "So you..." He wasn't usually one to mince his words, but in this case
there was nothing that didn't sound horribly crude – and just as mortifying if
he was wrong.
But it looked like he wasn't, because Mizutani was looking down now, eyes
hidden under strands of still-wet hair. Shy, or even ashamed - unaware of the
effect he was having."Yeah."
To which there was really no way to answer except by grabbing the back of his
neck to tug him back, their lips crashing together as if they hadn't been
practicing kissing, hours at a time for weeks and weeks.
Scratch everything he'd been about to say about taking it slow and comfortable.
There was something they had to do. Because the very thought of Mizutani
touching himself like that – more than once, obviously more than once from the
amount of lubricant he'd used - was... well, the thought had already featured
in more than one late-night fantasy, but knowing that it was real, that it
actually happened, was another story entirely.
It was never going to leave his head. Ever. Izumi pulled away from the kiss,
forced his hand to still on Mizutani's back. "Show me?" His voice didn't come
out as much more than a squeaky whisper, and he knew even as he said it that it
could be interpreted in two very different ways. That could have been avoided
if they'd taken the time to talk about roles, but there was only so much
embarrassment Izumi was willing to put himself through.
Anyway, he wouldn't be too reluctant to defer to Mizutani's expertise on the
matter, at least for the first time.
"What?!" Mizutani's head snapped up to look at him. He seemed panicked at the
very prospect; but he must have caught something in Izumi's expression, in his
unfocused eyes and the nervous bite on his lower lip, because he relaxed the
tiniest bit. "How?" he asked, which shook Izumi's thoughts from what might
otherwise have been an endless loop of oh shit this is really happening. And
just like that, the decision was made.
"Uh. Wait, I'll just..." It took half a minute, but he maneuvered himself to
sit at the head of the bed, back leaning comfortably on the cool wall. The
towel around his waist untucked itself when he spread his legs, but he couldn't
have cared less because Mizutani had taken the hint and laid down in the open
space, his head pillowed high on Izumi's left thigh, and it didn't matter that
they hadn't been able to look each other in the eye since the request had been
made. Not when Mizutani was stretching into a comfortable position, one arm
wrapped around Izumi's knee as the other hand reached for the tube and undid
its top with surprising ease.
"Skillful," Izumi commented as he twisted strands of hair between his fingers.
He winced slightly when a set of fingernails dug into his calf. "Stop that.
It's embarrassing."
"Sorry." He wasn't, not really, but now wasn't the time to see how far he
needed to push before Mizutani pushed back. He never had, so far - to the point
that sometimes Izumi thought it wasn't quite right, the wrong balance of give
and take, but he was still hardly likely to complain. "Don't mind me."
"Can't exactly pretend you're not here," Mizutani mumbled, but Izumi was too
busy staring at the way he was rubbing lubricant onto his fingertips to gather
the braincells that would have been needed to answer in any way that wouldn't
make him sound like a caveman.
He watched for minutes, barely blinking - forced to remind himself to swallow
every now and then to avoid outright drooling. Just the sound of Mizutani's
deep, controlled breathing, interceded with the occasional whimper, would have
been enough to get him pathetically hard. But there was also the hand gripping
under his thigh, the hair tickling his skin, the slow slither of his
boyfriend's body on the sheets. All for his benefit; all for him to watch,
hear, feel. His leg was cramping from the weight and the tension, but if this
kept going much longer...
"Hey," he croaked, "it's no fair if you're going all the way."
Mizutani answered with a questioning moan, and twisted his head to look up at
him with half-lidded eyes, brushing his cheek against the towel covering
Izumi's erection as he did.
It was too much; it was enough. Izumi came with a strangled cry, his fist
clenched in Mizutani's hair. The cramp that had been building up seized his leg
halfway through, but he hardly felt it through the waves of his orgasm, until
he collapsed back against the wall, out of breath.
"Huh," Mizutani said, kneeling between his still spread legs, looking at him
from underneath. And grinning.
Izumi closed his eyes and stretched his leg, working the cramp away. "What's so
funny?" he demanded a minute later, and tried to pull Mizutani into the kind of
kiss that would make him forget to answer.
He got nothing but a peck on the lips before Mizutani's forehead fell on his
shoulder. "Because! Because you... you've got all this experience, and you're
always..." A pause as laughter shook through his body. "You're always so in
control of everything, and..."
Izumi grimaced and patted Mizutani's naked -strong, soft- back a few times.
"Obviously not always," he said dryly, which sent Mizutani into further fits of
laughter. "You're not helping at all, you know."
"But it's funny!" Mizutani protested, and his hair tickled and his breath gave
him goosebumps and he never knew when to stop poking fun at someone and a
thought Izumi had never meant to allow himself washed over him, leaving him
short of breath and more than a little shaken.
"Well then." He wrapped his legs around Mizutani's knees, put a hand on his
shoulder and pushed, taking him by surprise to throw him on the bed. The 'oof'
of surprise was the last thing that escaped his boyfriend's lips before he was
pinned to the mattress and kissed hard, but he caught on quickly enough. He was
still hard despite the interruption, so hard and grinding against Izumi's
thigh, kissing back wet and messy and there were no words for how badly Izumi
wanted him; every bit of him. "I'll just have to make sure you don't get bored,
then." And wow, was that a trite thing to say. But it seemed to work as well as
anything, making Mizutani buck under him and pull him even closer.
Sometimes 'refractory period' was nothing but words.
"Do you have any preference for flavors?" he asked against warm skin, enjoying
the shiver that it generated.
"Is --ah-- is it going to matter?"
"Not for what I'm thinking about, but I wouldn't want to ignore your wishes,"
Izumi offered gallantly, and pushed himself up to re-open the drawer rather
than look at the pout that was sure to have blossomed. There really was an
ocean of choice in there.
"Green tea ice-cream."
"So you do like it," Izumi teased, his fingers only shaking slightly as he
ripped the packaging open.
"No! But I'm not going to use it for... what he said, so."
Izumi nodded distractedly. True to expectation, the condom was matcha green,
which was not all that appealing. He put it on anyway, fumbling a little,
painfully aware that he was being watched, and if he felt utterly ridiculous
wearing nothing but a green bit of latex, all he had to do was reach out a hand
and roll back into the bed and things were okay again and only mildly
terrifying and he was still hard, so that was good, right? Right?
He asked, anyway. "Are you sure you're...?" Okay? Willing? Ready?
"I'm sure." Breathed out shakily against his skin. "It's just, how..."
"I don't know." How and when and which way, too many things to think about. If
you judged by porn, sex was supposed to be simple, little more than a matter of
thrusting and grunting. Thoughtless. How were you supposed to keep focused in
these situations long enough to know what would work?
So Mizutani's expression turned to one of concentration for a moment, and then
he rolled over, legs spread, and if Izumi had been concerned that the condom
might fall off before he ever got to do anything with it, just the sight was
enough to make that worry go away.
"Yeah, okay, right-" he said, then made himself shut up to concentrate on
trailing his fingers up and down Mizutani's back, on touching and kissing and
getting closer, closer until it was almost not unnatural when he knelt between
the spread legs, almost easy to angle himself right enough and push in.
Under him, around him, Mizutani froze, and he almost panicked. "Keep going," he
heard, and so he did, and a few seconds later it was easier, not as painfully
tight, and he thought he could feel Mizutani unwind a little. It was enough to
find his footing, so to speak; and little by little, slow thrust after careful
pull, whispered reassurance after silent query, they fell into a rhythm. And it
was good, and it worked, so well their breathing fell into pace as well, and
now Izumi regretted that they couldn't look at each other properly, even though
he could see the side of his face, closed eyes and parted lips, and when
Izumi's knees slipped further apart on the sheet he saw the tension and heard
the moan and felt the contraction of the muscles around him and the combination
made him come, hard and irresistible.
He didn't take the time to bask, all too conscious that it had been too fast,
too early, and pulled out without a word. Tugged at Mizutani's shoulder until
he rolled on his back, still breathing heavily, still hard, eyes still glazed
and Izumi dove on him.
He didn't realize how stupid that move was until the head hit the back of his
throat, a mistake he hadn't made since Akazawa-senpai, and he had to pull back,
suddenly about to throw up from more than just the gag reflex.
He sat up, head between his hands, breathing deeply, a part of him counting the
seconds. He was at about fifteen when a hand touched his back, and what should
have been a comfort made him bolt, rush out for the safety of the bathroom.
Which wasn't really all that safe, not with the mirror staring back at him
after he's splashed cold water over his face.
His pupils were so dilated as to make his eyes look almost black, the red on
his face made the freckles even more obvious, and his hair was sticking up
every which way, which objectively wasn't unattractive, but wasn't dignified
either. Certainly not what he needed to get out and face the world, or that
small part of the world that would be waiting for him in the bedroom, probably
fidgeting like he did when he thought someone was mad at him and he didn't know
why.
Shit.
Okay, so that wasn't how he'd planned to go about the whole thing. Even in the
worst scenarios, that wasn't how he'd expected things to turn out.
Now what? The longer he spent in here, the more difficult it was going to get.
So he needed to get out. His clothes were still in the bathroom, though, so the
option to run away was a very tempting one. He examined it for a minute, put
his pants back on, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Mizutani was still sitting on the bed, but he'd wrapped the sheet protectively
around himself. "Are you okay?"
"Apart from never wanting to show my face again, fine," he answered in as
toneless a voice as he could manage. To his dismay, Mizutani chuckled. Then
again, it really was kind of fun. Or it would be in fifteen years or so. "You?"
In the meantime, he'd never get tired of how easily his boyfriend could be made
to blush and look away.
"Stings a little," he admitted. "Nothing too bad. It... was good."
Izumi'd heard him praise cheap proteins and sound more convincing. "Right." He
climbed on the bed behind Mizutani, set his chin on his shoulder, and made a
show of pushing the sheet away before letting his hand rest high on his thigh.
He felt a shiver go through. "So, do you want me to try to do something about
this, or should I keep away and wallow in my shame?"
The sound that ensued shouldn't have been able to come from a human throat.
"Please?"
Izumi chose to take that as an invitation and pressed closer, chest against his
back and hand reaching around, slow and deliberate - not going to try and rush
this again.
"Left hand?" Mizutani gasped as Izumi trailed his fingertips lightly up and
down his cock.
"Switch hitting, remember." He'd never thought a technical baseball term could
be breathed out to such effect, except maybe if the listener was Tajima. "I'm
fairly ambidextrous."
"Yeah." It came out as a moan, as Mizutani's head came to rest on Izumi's
shoulder, his neck stretched out and exposed. "I wondered about that."
Izumi's breath hitched, and there was hardly any skill to the way he grabbed
Mizutani's cock. "The same way you wondered about how it felt to..."
"Yes." It was little more than a hiss, and there was no way to tell if it had
been an answer to the words or the action. Not that it mattered, because
Izumi's attention was already divided between the pressure to apply with his
fingers and resisting the temptation to bite down on pale skin, leave the kind
of mark that would make Tajima utter lewd comments for the entire week.
Resisting proved too hard when a hand gripped his thigh, but he managed to do
nothing more lasting than kiss all over Mizutani's neck and shoulders and the
side of his face and it was almost scary how he couldn't stop smiling, a little
harder every time a pleading moan escaped that throat - more, more, harder,
keep going keep going please don't stop and he answered in kind, it's okay, I'm
here, I've got you until the grip on his leg tightened to the point of pain.
And then it was over and they were tumbling back side by side on the bed,
Mizutani's blissed smile enough to temporarily soothe his wounded ego, and he
thought they might fall asleep like that when the silence was interrupted by a
loud gurgle.
"That was you," he said. A strand of Mizutani's hair tickled his shoulder when
he threw his head back, laughing out loud.
"Hmmm. Hungry." Izumi was going to have to get better at this, if only to get
to hear more of this mellow, relaxed voice.
"I figured. Got anything to eat that won't involve too much standing?" Quickies
behind the dugout had a certain appeal, but the chance to stick around
afterwards for some quiet time was too rare to miss.
Mizutani wriggled deliciously against him. "My mother got some sashimi."
"That's nice of her, but sashimi for one won't get us very far. I'm sort of
famished too, what with all that exercise."
Mizutani made an embarrassed noise, unwrapped himself from around Izumi's neck
and scooted away. "For two. Girlfriend, remember?" He was fidgeting now, and
there was an answer to a question Izumi had been pondering: even after sleeping
with him, the squirming didn't lose any of its appeal.
In fact, in conjunction with the memory of him fingering himself, it was even
worse. Or better, maybe.
"By the way," he asked later, dipping a slice of eel in the plastic sauce
container, "what is your mother going to tell mine about this imaginary
girlfriend of yours?"
Mizutani's fish slipped from his chopsticks.
"I'll get asked about it, you know," Izumi pressed on, merciless.
"Keeps me out later after practice, distracts me when I should be studying,"
Mizutani mumbled, making a show of fishing the slice of salmon back from its
ocean of soy sauce. Then he looked up, and this expression right there, the
half-embarrassed half-determined look on his face, Izumi never wanted to get
tired of it.
"Has fantastic blue eyes in the right light."
Then again, if his brain kept getting hijacked like that, he wouldn't get a
chance to.
***** The DVD Commentary *****
[I have a specific pattern for naming fics in the Brand New Endings universe.
For the longerst time, this one was named WT_105_Wonder. To clarify: WT=Working
Title (gets removed once the fic is finished and posted), 1: first period
(there are four: high school, graduation to Mihashi coming back to Abe, then up
to Izumi and Mizutani finally having a conversation, then everything that comes
after) 05 was the order of the fic within that period. As for the title itself,
I somehow never got around to changing it despite how utterly irrelevant it is.
That said, it took over a year for this fic to get written, so by the time I
was ready to post it I was READY TO POST IT. In such a case, titles are usually
the first thing to suffer.]
===============================================================================

Izumi Kousuke had never been jealous of girls.
Growing up, he'd felt the occasional twinge of envy: his brother had been
scolded into a personal policy of never picking on girls, and Kousuke had
sometimes felt that wearing a dress on occasion would be a small price to pay
to be left alone.
After discovering that he preferred to look at his teammates in the locker room
than at the short hem of his classmates' uniform skirts, there had been a few
weeks of unease; but, he'd decided, there was no way he was swapping his body
for a girl's even if it made things easier in that regard. [I always have
trouble judging the balance between mature and collected and fun-loving, for
him. My characterization leans heavily on the former, which makes for easy self
analysis but also sometimes makes me feel like I don't really do him justice.]
Now, going on eighteen and content, if not happy, with every aspect of his
life, he was catching up on a lifetime of longing.
The thing was, girls had magazines. He'd always seen them around, in the
streets, the train, the convenience store. But he'd never really paid attention
until last week, when, back from training camp, all the front page articles had
jumped out at him.
ARE YOU READY?
YOU'VE DECIDED TO HAVE SEX. NOW WHAT?
HOW TO MAKE THE FIRST TIME PERFECT.
HOW GOOD ARE YOU IN BED?
IDOLS SPEAK: 'MY WORST SEXUAL EXPERIENCE'
TEN TIPS TO MAKE HIM COME BACK FOR MORE [Article titles more or less lifter
from the magazine covers I see every day on my way to work. Also my vague
memories from the time I was reading them. I confess, not much research went
into this list.]
And while he could guess that most of these articles attempted to delve into
what they probably called the 'male psyche', which he didn't need explained,
and that the advice given was probably flat and applicable to any and all
situations, he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. However cheesy and
pointless it seemed, girls got guidance. Something to rely on when their wits
failed them – which happened to him a lot more than he would have liked,
whenever 'Mizutani' and 'sex' came up in the same thought. [For some reason, I
always tend to write Izumi as having a little experience on the side, whereas
Mizutani tends to be completely 'pure' (in terms of having actually done
things, obviously). This, right here, might be why: I suspect Izumi might lose
his brain the first time with somebody he likes, and if he has some experience,
he can at least rely on that a little.]
They tended to be pretty much intertwined these days, since he'd learned that
next week-end, as Mizutani's parents were leaving town and his sister was
sleeping over at her boyfriend's, they were going to Have Sex. And next week-
end was now. [So of course there's an app a fic for that, which is pretty much
the team's last moment of peace before everything starts breaking down. One
day, I'll finish it. Maybe.]
After weeks of being all over each other whenever they could get away with it,
it shouldn't have been intimidating. It was only a natural progression, one
that he'd hoped they'd come to eventually. Only, whenever he'd let himself
think about it, it had been just that: natural. He hadn't walked up the last
few meters to the Mizutani household thinking when I get out of here again we
will have Done It. There hadn't been a schedule. [It's all Mizutani's fault for
suggesting it in the first place. Really! A quickie in the dugout would have
been so much easier for everyone involved.]
The door opened before he'd even had time to ring, which gave him no time to
seriously consider the option of turning heel and running away, but also none
to calm down at all.
"Hey." Mizutani was dressed casually, barefoot, and visibly ill-at-ease.
"Hey." Izumi wasn't sure if he should be relieved that they were both nervous.
He took his time taking off his shoes, a corner of his mind wondering if
Shigapo would have any tips for such a situation. Maybe he could dare Tajima to
ask, and make sure he'd never, ever know what the answer was.
Then he was done, and they were standing face to face with an invisible wall
between them, and Izumi didn't think he'd ever felt so awkward.
"So, do you... want to take a shower?" Mizutani asked, shuffling his feet. [I
started writing this shortly after an article on the Japanese and sex started
circulating among my friends. The need for a shower seemed so prominent that I
couldn't not include it; it also makes for perfect added awkwardness.]
The answer came out before Izumi had had time to think about it. Which was his
only excuse, really. "You don't waste any time, do you."
Mizutani made a choking noise and started flailing his arms in denegation.
"That's- No, that's not..." Then he caught Izumi's expression and gave an
embarrassed chuckle, which quickly turned into a shared case of semi hysterical
laughter.
"I brought my homework," Izumi said once the worst of it had passed, taking the
tense silence along with it. "We're having a study session, remember? Got to
have something to show for it."
"Er," Mizutani coughed, leading the way to the living room. "Actually, my
parents think I'm taking advantage of the situation to have my girlfriend
over." [Because what are parents of a teenage boy supposed to think when they
leave him home alone for an entire week-end?]
Izumi snorted. "Really? Mine think we're taking advantage of the situation to
have a party with the girls from the volleyball club."
Mizutani grimaced. "Huh. Our moms are going to talk about this." [This is
something I really want to expand on someday. All the moms are so prone to
gossiping; surely, if two of the boys started acting weird, they'd notice? And
possibly mount a spying operation. Shenanigans would ensue.]
"So it'll add up to an orgy with the volleyball team?" He managed to keep his
voice perfectly flat through the question, but one look at his boyfriend's
expression made him grin and lean in to steal a kiss. Mizutani met him halfway,
and it took Izumi all of six seconds to forget about the English homework he
had honestly been planning on doing. Hand-holding was all well and good, but
there was no amount of awkward tension that couldn't be dispelled like this, by
kissing and touching and pushing against each other, any discomfort overwhelmed
by the desire for contact. What loomed ahead was new and exciting and
terrifying, but this, they knew in and out. Pulling away from a kiss only to be
caught again a moment later, the tactile contrast of fabric and skin, and if
anyone tried to tell him that the way Mizutani moaned when Izumi gripped the
back of his thigh wasn't already sex...
"Did you say something about a shower?" he asked, breathless, barely fast
enough to finish before Mizutani kissed him again, chuckling.
"What about the homework?"
Oh, well, if he was going to play hard to get... "You know, if you really want
to do the homew-"
"Clean towels are on the shelves in the bathroom." [They could have taken that
shower together, but it wouldn't have been proper, now would it?]
===============================================================================
In hindsight, it might have been better to let things progress by themselves,
shower be damned. Sure, it felt somewhat dirty to be doing this without
cleaning up properly first, but they'd never bothered about it before –
surprise and urgency, places where they could get caught at any moment - and
neither of them had come out worse for it.
He'd already taken a shower before leaving, anyway. [Among the top five
activities of the soon-to-get-laid teenager: second-guessing.]
But at least it took care of most of the stripping, and left Izumi alone in
Mizutani's bedroom after he was done, for just long enough to notice the half-
open drawer of the bedside table.
It was full.
Impressively full, in fact. [Also in the top five: getting overwhelmed by the
smallest things. Such as a drawer full of condoms.]
"Ah..." he heard behind him, but didn't bother to turn around. The contents of
that drawer were a lot more interesting.
"Is the rest of the team coming over later?" he asked blandly.
Mizutani strode from the door to get between him and the drawer. "That's not
funny!" he protested, slightly defensive. "I just wanted to be... prepared, you
know, and last week everyone suddenly started giving me some. My mom, my dad,
my sister, even her boyfriend." [In the RP we had going on Plurk while I was
writing this, Mizutani's sister was going out with Izumi's brother (this
provided great potential for situational comedy, that sadly never happened).
It's not the case here, but the temptation was great to at least suggest it,
just for those who would have caught the reference. :)]
Ah. So Mizutani's family really was expecting him to Become a Man in those few
days. Probably with a gentle girl who would follow his fumbling lead and cook
him dinner afterwards, wearing the T-shirt she'd have shyly tugged off him two
hours earlier. The mental image was really not helping. [To much imagination is
not a good thing. Also maybe a small amount of guilt there, for dragging
Mizutani into the Gay Side of the Force.] "So, no pressure, right?"
Mizutani moaned in dismay, and gave up on hiding the drawer to push himself
between Izumi and the bedside table and flop down on the bed.
Izumi took advantage of the sudden freedom to peer further inside. "I'm
guessing the flavoured ones are from the boyfriend? Green tea ice-cream is a
bold choice."
"He said it was a 'subtle hint'," Mizutani admitted. He was tracing the edge of
the towel wrapped around Izumi's waist, fingertips deliciously cool on his
lower back. "And then he grinned at me. I'm never looking my sister in the face
again." [I strongly suspect that the sister put her boyfriend up to it in order
to horrify Fumiki so much that he'd end up unable to perform. Someone has a
brother complex~ (though of course that's my imagination; I don't think she's
actually appeared in canon?)]
"I can see why." The height of his embarrassment had been reached two days ago,
when insisting that he was going to a friend's to study had not stopped his
brother from giving him The Talk over the phone. In comparison to Mizutani's
plight, it didn't seem so bad anymore. [Aaaahhh, Takami-san. First name
completely made up, and I've taken to using it so much that Izumi's bro becomes
'Takami' in every universe I write. The day his real name comes out is going to
be a shock. Anyway, despite being a bully of an older brother, this Takami is
still a good guy. Really! Kind of like Kousuke, come to think of it.]
He was about to stop his inspection when he found something that was most
emphatically not a square foil wrapper. "I think you got ripped off," he said,
his mouth a little dry. "That tube's half-empty."
There was no answer, but the hand that had been moving up his back fell away.
He turned around to find that Mizutani had thrown his arm over his face, which
didn't quite hide the deep blush on his cheeks. [You'd think he'd hide it
better, if he didn't want his boyfriend to find out. OR HIS MOM. Maybe it was
all a cunning plan?]
Izumi shut the drawer and placed a hand flat on Mizutani's stomach. "I'm done."
"About time," his boyfriend muttered sulkily. Still, he moved his arm away,
allowing Izumi to lean down and kiss him.
Maybe it would be better to stick to this. If neither of them was sure enough,
confident enough to follow through with the plan, what was the point? The whole
thing had only come up because of Tajima proudly claiming that he'd first got
laid long ago [Incidentally, that was with Ochi. What Tajima wants, Tajima
gets. (This may or may not include Hanai.)], but it wasn't like they would be
able to go back to school on Monday and brag to their friends about having
crossed the line.
It bothered him sometimes, the tacit need for secrecy. [Slight detour into
what's going on with the other pairs, even though it isn't much. But it helps
me keep track of this sometimes wobbly timeline.] Tajima spent half his time
hanging from Hanai's neck and Abe and Mihashi had clasped hands in the middle
of Koushien Stadium [They made it! In second year. Didn't win, but there's
always this summer, right? RIGHT?], but there was something different about
doing it with intent. [Small oversight on Izumi's part, there: Tajima does
everything with intent.] Even though Izumi was reasonably sure that none of his
teammates would think any less of them for it, it was still easier not to let
them know about any of this.
He resented the world for that sometimes, when the harshness of training made
him irritable and possessive. On those days he wanted nothing more than to grab
Mizutani in the middle of the field and claim him in a way that would make it
clear to anyone watching (especially Shinooka because Mizutani had liked her
once, Abe and Hanai because they spent more time with him than Izumi did,
Sakaeguchi for being too friendly, and any of the girls who liked to watch
their practice, just in case) that this left fielder was not available for
anything more than casual conversation. But that was never going to happen, and
it left them with no more pressure than they put on themselves.
He almost considered calling it off, being the one to say it's okay if we don't
do anything new yet, and spending the night and day in bed just touching and
kissing and coming as close as possible to melding together, because anything
that involved them moaning against each other's skin was good enough.
But before that, there was one thing Izumi wanted to know. He broke off the
kiss and pulled away, acutely aware that the towels wrapped around their hips
weren't doing much to hide the very mutual erections they were both sporting.
"Are you going to tell me why that tube is half empty?" [So it's not wanting
information so much as teasing. But hey, he does that.]
Mizutani immediately looked away, not saying anything. Izumi saw his fingers
fidgeting with the sheet for a few moments before he caught himself and wiped
his hand on his towel.
"I..." Mizutani started. He shook his head, took a deep breath. "Wondered,"
[One might think that this is where the title comes from, but it's not. I have
no idea where it did come from, but it wasn't this thread.] he whispered. "How
it felt."
Izumi swallowed thickly. He wasn't stupid by any definition, so how had it
taken him so long to notice that this guy was a brain short-circuit waiting to
happen? "So you..." He wasn't usually one to mince his words, but in this case
there was nothing that didn't sound horribly crude – and just as mortifying if
he was wrong.
But it looked like he wasn't, because Mizutani was looking down now, eyes
hidden under strands of still-wet hair. Shy, or even ashamed - unaware of the
effect he was having. [A recurring theme in their relationship: Mizutani has no
idea of his power, and Izumi chooses not to let him know. Which would indicate
either that Izumi doesn't trust him enough to give him even more power, or that
he doesn't want to inflict that burden on him, by forcing him to actually
consider his behavior before doing stupid things. It's a little bit of both,
really, and a lot of Izumi being stupid.] "Yeah."
To which there was really no way to answer except by grabbing the back of his
neck to tug him back, their lips crashing together as if they hadn't been
practicing kissing, hours at a time for weeks and weeks. [And if you're
wondering when they have time for that, well... that's the story of how Momokan
got fired and replaced by a dude who doesn't make them train from 4.30am to
9pm.]
Scratch everything he'd been about to say about taking it slow and comfortable.
There was something they had to do. Because the very thought of Mizutani
touching himself like that – more than once, obviously more than once from the
amount of lubricant he'd used - was... well, the thought had already featured
in more than one late-night fantasy [no more swimsuits in this nightscape,
that's for sure], but knowing that it was real, that it actually happened, was
another story entirely.
It was never going to leave his head. Ever. Izumi pulled away from the kiss,
forced his hand to still on Mizutani's back. "Show me?" His voice didn't come
out as much more than a squeaky whisper, and he knew even as he said it that it
could be interpreted in two very different ways. That could have been avoided
if they'd taken the time to talk about roles, but there was only so much
embarrassment Izumi was willing to put himself through.
Anyway, he wouldn't be too reluctant to defer to Mizutani's expertise on the
matter, at least for the first time. [Riiiight. Incidentally, Izumi doesn't
bottom at all until after he gets dumped, and then once more with Abe. It'll be
a good long while before Mizutani gets that chance again.]
"What?!" Mizutani's head snapped up to look at him. He seemed panicked at the
very prospect; but he must have caught something in Izumi's expression, in his
unfocused eyes and the nervous bite on his lower lip, because he relaxed the
tiniest bit. "How?" he asked, which shook Izumi's thoughts from what might
otherwise have been an endless loop of oh shit this is really happening. And
just like that, the decision was made.
"Uh. Wait, I'll just..." It took half a minute, but he maneuvered himself to
sit at the head of the bed, back leaning comfortably on the cool wall. The
towel around his waist untucked itself when he spread his legs, but he couldn't
have cared less because Mizutani had taken the hint and laid down in the open
space, his head pillowed high on Izumi's left thigh, and it didn't matter that
they hadn't been able to look each other in the eye since the request had been
made. Not when Mizutani was stretching into a comfortable position, one arm
wrapped around Izumi's knee as the other hand reached for the tube and undid
its top with surprising ease. [This was one of those positions that made me
wish I was an artist: it was so clear and obvious and perfect in my head, and
then I had to write it down and every word was a struggle.]
"Skillful," Izumi commented as he twisted strands of hair between his fingers.
[He just can't help himself. :| There are pigtails. A boy must pull.]
He winced slightly when a set of fingernails dug into his calf. "Stop that.
It's embarrassing."
"Sorry." He wasn't, not really, but now wasn't the time to see how far he
needed to push before Mizutani pushed back. He never had, so far - to the point
that sometimes Izumi thought it wasn't quite right, the wrong balance of give
and take, but he was still hardly likely to complain. "Don't mind me." [First
sign of something not being perfectly right in their universe....]
"Can't exactly pretend you're not here," Mizutani mumbled, but Izumi was too
busy staring at the way he was rubbing lubricant onto his fingertips to gather
the braincells that would have been needed to answer in any way that wouldn't
make him sound like a caveman.
He watched for minutes, barely blinking - forced to remind himself to swallow
every now and then to avoid outright drooling. Just the sound of Mizutani's
deep, controlled breathing, interceded with the occasional whimper, would have
been enough to get him pathetically hard. But there was also the hand gripping
under his thigh, the hair tickling his skin, the slow slither of his
boyfriend's body on the sheets. All for his benefit; all for him to watch,
hear, feel. His leg was cramping from the weight and the tension, but if this
kept going much longer...
"Hey," he croaked, "it's no fair if you're going all the way."
Mizutani answered with a questioning moan, and twisted his head to look up at
him with half-lidded eyes, brushing his cheek against the towel covering
Izumi's erection as he did.
It was too much; it was enough. [I hate this phrase, but (or because) it seems
I keep inadvertently using it. To-do: find better ways to write hair-trigger
orgasms.] Izumi came with a strangled cry, his fist clenched in Mizutani's
hair. The cramp that had been building up seized his leg halfway through, but
he hardly felt it through the waves of his orgasm, until he collapsed back
against the wall, out of breath.
"Huh," Mizutani said, kneeling between his still spread legs, looking at him
from underneath. And grinning.
Izumi closed his eyes and stretched his leg, working the cramp away. "What's so
funny?" he demanded a minute later, and tried to pull Mizutani into the kind of
kiss that would make him forget to answer.
He got nothing but a peck on the lips before Mizutani's forehead fell on his
shoulder. "Because! Because you... you've got all this experience, and you're
always..." ["All this experience" = Akazawa-senpai, whose gaydar was precise
enough to ping on Izumi in his first year of high school (or possibly even in
middle school, since they attended the same one for a year) and made sure to
let him know. Consequently, Izumi has a fair amount of experience on the
domains of quick hand/blowjobs in the bathroom between classes. Feelings, he
wasn't prepared for. Akazawa is meant to reappear briefly after Abe and Mihashi
start working together again.] A pause as laughter shook through his body.
"You're always so in control of everything, and..."
Izumi grimaced and patted Mizutani's naked -strong, soft- back a few times.
"Obviously not always," he said dryly, which sent Mizutani into further fits of
laughter. "You're not helping at all, you know."
"But it's funny!" Mizutani protested, and his hair tickled and his breath gave
him goosebumps and he never knew when to stop poking fun at someone and a
thought Izumi had never meant to allow himself washed over him, leaving him
short of breath and more than a little shaken. [I remember reading a long time
ago that men tended to say "I love you" a lot more during (or right before or
after) sex, probably for endorphins reasons. In this case, he held it back, but
you've got to wonder: considering that most of their issues later on stem from
basic_miscommunication, how much could have been spared if he'd just said it
right then? ... Heh, I said 'wonder'. Maybe that is where the title comes from
(doubt it, though).]
"Well then." He wrapped his legs around Mizutani's knees, put a hand on his
shoulder and pushed, taking him by surprise to throw him on the bed. The 'oof'
of surprise was the last thing that escaped his boyfriend's lips before he was
pinned to the mattress and kissed hard, but he caught on quickly enough. He was
still hard despite the interruption, so hard and grinding against Izumi's
thigh, kissing back wet and messy and there were no words for how badly Izumi
wanted him; every bit of him. "I'll just have to make sure you don't get bored,
then." And wow, was that a trite thing to say. But it seemed to work as well as
anything, making Mizutani buck under him and pull him even closer.
Sometimes 'refractory period' was nothing but words. [And sometimes a writer
goes too far in trying to explain that something is physically possible REALLY
IT IS! To do: learn to work suspension of disbelief better than this.]
"Do you have any preference for flavors?" he asked against warm skin, enjoying
the shiver that it generated.
"Is --ah-- is it going to matter?"
"Not for what I'm thinking about, but I wouldn't want to ignore your wishes,"
Izumi offered gallantly [If he says so himself. Mizutani might have used a
different word.], and pushed himself up to re-open the drawer rather than look
at the pout that was sure to have blossomed. There really was an ocean of
choice in there.
"Green tea ice-cream."
"So you do like it," Izumi teased, his fingers only shaking slightly as he
ripped the packaging open.
"No! But I'm not going to use it for... what he said, so."
Izumi nodded distractedly. True to expectation, the condom was matcha green,
which was not all that appealing. He put it on anyway, fumbling a little,
painfully aware that he was being watched, and if he felt utterly ridiculous
wearing nothing but a green bit of latex [This is perhaps my favorite out of
all the really fucking awkward moments. And by favorite I mean most horrible.
No man looks dignified with a colored condom. (Feel free to not send me
pictures proving otherwise.)], all he had to do was reach out a hand and roll
back into the bed and things were okay again and only mildly terrifying and he
was still hard, so that was good, right? Right?
He asked, anyway. "Are you sure you're...?" Okay? Willing? Ready?
"I'm sure." Breathed out shakily against his skin. "It's just, how..."
"I don't know." How and when and which way, too many things to think about. If
you judged by porn, sex was supposed to be simple, little more than a matter of
thrusting and grunting. Thoughtless. How were you supposed to keep focused in
these situations long enough to know what would work? [I do tend to point out
the differences between porn and real sex, especially when writing a teenage
boy's first time. (See also the NSFW Make_Love_Not_Porn website.) It's an
important point for me, I guess?]
So Mizutani's expression turned to one of concentration for a moment, and then
he rolled over, legs spread, and if Izumi had been concerned that the condom
might fall off before he ever got to do anything with it, just the sight was
enough to make that worry go away.
"Yeah, okay, right-" he said, then made himself shut up to concentrate on
trailing his fingers up and down Mizutani's back, on touching and kissing and
getting closer, closer until it was almost not unnatural when he knelt between
the spread legs, almost easy to angle himself right enough and push in.
Under him, around him, Mizutani froze, and he almost panicked. "Keep going," he
heard, and so he did, and a few seconds later it was easier, not as painfully
tight, and he thought he could feel Mizutani unwind a little. It was enough to
find his footing, so to speak; and little by little, slow thrust after careful
pull, whispered reassurance after silent query, they fell into a rhythm. And it
was good, and it worked, so well their breathing fell into pace as well, and
now Izumi regretted that they couldn't look at each other properly, even though
he could see the side of his face, closed eyes and parted lips, and when
Izumi's knees slipped further apart on the sheet he saw the tension and heard
the moan and felt the contraction of the muscles around him and the combination
made him come, hard and irresistible. [Interesting (not) fact: pretty much
every time I write sex, no matter how long the foreplay lasts, the actual
penetration is done with in the space of one paragraph. I think that's because
if it's good enough (and it should be), mental ramblings would kill the mood
and bury it.]
He didn't take the time to bask, all too conscious that it had been too fast,
too early, and pulled out without a word. Tugged at Mizutani's shoulder until
he rolled on his back, still breathing heavily, still hard, eyes still glazed
and Izumi dove on him.
He didn't realize how stupid that move was until the head hit the back of his
throat, a mistake he hadn't made since Akazawa-senpai, and he had to pull back,
suddenly about to throw up from more than just the gag reflex. [Akazawa-senpai
is Izumi's reference for all things concerning relationships and sex. He should
really find himself some other ones. Though considering the people who surround
him, that wouldn't be easy.]
He sat up, head between his hands, breathing deeply, a part of him counting the
seconds. He was at about fifteen when a hand touched his back, and what should
have been a comfort made him bolt, rush out for the safety of the bathroom.
Which wasn't really all that safe, not with the mirror staring back at him
after he's splashed cold water over his face.
His pupils were so dilated as to make his eyes look almost black, the red on
his face made the freckles even more obvious, and his hair was sticking up
every which way, which objectively [It would take a superhero to be objective
in this situation BUT IZUMI IS AWESOME OK.] wasn't unattractive, but wasn't
dignified either. Certainly not what he needed to get out and face the world,
or that small part of the world that would be waiting for him in the bedroom,
probably fidgeting like he did when he thought someone was mad at him and he
didn't know why.
Shit.
Okay, so that wasn't how he'd planned to go about the whole thing. Even in the
worst scenarios, that wasn't how he'd expected things to turn out. [Signs
you're not ready to have sex: calling it "that thing" is a good one.]
Now what? The longer he spent in here, the more difficult it was going to get.
So he needed to get out. His clothes were still in the bathroom, though, so the
option to run away was a very tempting one. He examined it for a minute, put
his pants back on, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Mizutani was still sitting on the bed, but he'd wrapped the sheet protectively
around himself. "Are you okay?"
"Apart from never wanting to show my face again, fine," he answered in as
toneless a voice as he could manage. To his dismay, Mizutani chuckled. Then
again, it really was kind of fun. Or it would be in fifteen years or so. "You?"
In the meantime, he'd never get tired of how easily his boyfriend could be made
to blush and look away.
"Stings a little," he admitted. "Nothing too bad. It... was good."
Izumi'd heard him praise cheap proteins and sound more convincing. "Right." He
climbed on the bed behind Mizutani, set his chin on his shoulder, and made a
show of pushing the sheet away before letting his hand rest high on his thigh.
He felt a shiver go through. "So, do you want me to try to do something about
this, or should I keep away and wallow in my shame?"
The sound that ensued shouldn't have been able to come from a human throat.
"Please?"
Izumi chose to take that as an invitation and pressed closer, chest against his
back and hand reaching around, slow and deliberate - not going to try and rush
this again.
"Left hand?" Mizutani gasped as Izumi trailed his fingertips lightly up and
down his cock.
"Switch hitting, remember." He'd never thought a technical baseball term could
be breathed out to such effect, except maybe if the listener was Tajima. [I
believe it's impossible for these boys (and I mean the team as a whole) to have
sex without a stray thought about Tajima.] "I'm fairly ambidextrous."
"Yeah." It came out as a moan, as Mizutani's head came to rest on Izumi's
shoulder, his neck stretched out and exposed. "I wondered about that."
Izumi's breath hitched, and there was hardly any skill to the way he grabbed
Mizutani's cock. "The same way you wondered about how it felt to..." [That
specific scene is slated in my layout, but since it's not exactly plot-driving,
I'm afraid it'll never see the day.]
"Yes." It was little more than a hiss, and there was no way to tell if it had
been an answer to the words or the action. Not that it mattered, because
Izumi's attention was already divided between the pressure to apply with his
fingers and resisting the temptation to bite down on pale skin, leave the kind
of mark that would make Tajima utter lewd comments for the entire week.
Resisting proved too hard when a hand gripped his thigh, but he managed to do
nothing more lasting than kiss all over Mizutani's neck and shoulders and the
side of his face and it was almost scary how he couldn't stop smiling, a little
harder every time a pleading moan escaped that throat - more, more, harder,
keep going keep going please don't stop and he answered in kind, it's okay, I'm
here, I've got you until the grip on his leg tightened to the point of pain.
And then it was over and they were tumbling back side by side on the bed,
Mizutani's blissed smile enough to temporarily soothe his wounded ego, and he
thought they might fall asleep like that when the silence was interrupted by a
loud gurgle.
"That was you," he said. [Desperate attempt not to be at the source of EVERY
embarrassing body reaction that day...] A strand of Mizutani's hair tickled his
shoulder when he threw his head back, laughing out loud.
"Hmmm. Hungry." Izumi was going to have to get better at this, if only to get
to hear more of this mellow, relaxed voice.
"I figured. Got anything to eat that won't involve too much standing?" Quickies
behind the dugout had a certain appeal, but the chance to stick around
afterwards for some quiet time was too rare to miss.
Mizutani wriggled deliciously against him. "My mother got some sashimi."
"That's nice of her, but sashimi for one won't get us very far. I'm sort of
famished too, what with all that exercise."
Mizutani made an embarrassed noise, unwrapped himself from around Izumi's neck
and scooted away. "For two. Girlfriend, remember?" He was fidgeting now, and
there was an answer to a question Izumi had been pondering: even after sleeping
with him, the squirming didn't lose any of its appeal. [Oh, that boy is hooked
good.]
In fact, in conjunction with the memory of him fingering himself, it was even
worse. Or better, maybe.
"By the way," he asked later, dipping a slice of eel in the plastic sauce
container, "what is your mother going to tell mine about this imaginary
girlfriend of yours?"
Mizutani's fish slipped from his chopsticks.
"I'll get asked about it, you know," Izumi pressed on, merciless.
"Keeps me out later after practice, distracts me when I should be studying,"
Mizutani mumbled, making a show of fishing the slice of salmon back from its
ocean of soy sauce. Then he looked up, and this expression right there, the
half-embarrassed half-determined look on his face, Izumi never wanted to get
tired of it.
"Has fantastic blue eyes in the right light."
Then again, if his brain kept getting hijacked like that, he wouldn't get a
chance to. ['Hooked' might actually be an understatement there. >D]
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!