[PoT]:: fanfiction.
Title: Heated
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Kirihara Akaya x Marui Bunta
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/hand job/ 1,272
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: It's been a few months since they've seen each other.
Notes: for citrus_taste summer challenge. Con-crit and comments are appreciated.
Kirihara muttered under his breath as he was jostled into the businessman standing next to him. It was hot outside, hot in the train, people packed so close together that by the time he got off the train in Tokyo, sweat dripped off his nose, his shirt damp. He leaned against the wall, watching as people move all around him. He frowned, rummaging in his pocket and coming up empty. He started to panic checking his other pockets, finally finding the folded sheet of notebook paper. Kirihara unfolded it carefully, committing the words to memory.
The instructions were clear, though Kirihara managed to get turned around not once but twice. He had called Bunta after getting thoroughly lost. He scowled as the ringing gave way to a cheerful voice mail message. Frustration had set in. He hadn’t seen Bunta since Christmas, when the older boy had a break from classes. He hung up, looking around for anyone that looked as if they could point him in the right direction. In the park across the street, two younger women watched a couple of kids playing. Kirihara screwed up his courage and approached them.
When he actually showed up at Bunta’s apartment complex his shirt clung to his body, hair plastered to his head. He was tired, hot and irritated. He pounded up the stairs after the elevator doors slid shut in his face, the only occupant pushing frantically at what Kirihara assumed to be the ‘close door’ button. Kirihara traced along the characters on the doorplate, grinning a little bit. The door opened when he knocked, Kirihara stepping inside, and shutting the door behind him.
"Bunta-senpai?" He toed off his shoes, dropping his bag on the ground. There wasn’t any response, Kirihara’s grin slipping as he walked through the apartment. It was small, and cluttered. Kirihara touched almost everything, unable to keep his hands to himself. It was hot in the apartment as well, the windows open, fans going- a few papers tried to blow off the table, Kirihara replacing them under a text book. Bunta’s handwriting was messy and scrawled, the notes nearly unreadable.
There was a noise from the other room, Kirihara pausing in the doorway, watching. Bunta had his back to Kirihara. The other man was shirtless, in just his boxer shorts. The freezer was open, Bunta muttering as he rummaged.
"Senpai?"
Bunta jerked, the freezer slammed shut as he turned, wide-eyed to look at Kirihara. "You’re late."
"I got lost." Kirihara managed to get the words out before Bunta was hugging him tightly, a sloppy kiss landing first on his cheek. He groaned softly when Bunta kissed him properly, fingers tangling in his hair.
"I should have met you at the train station." Bunta’s lips brushed against Kirihara’s jaw as he spoke, sending shivers down Kirihara’s spine.
Kirihara snorted in response, nuzzling at Bunta’s bare shoulder. "I think someone would say something about the way you’re dressed." His hands slid down Bunta’s back, not minding the sweat, or the fact that Bunta’s skin was almost painfully hot to the touch. His hands stopped at Bunta’s hips, fingertips dipping under the waistband of the man’s boxers. Bunta’s hands were under his shirt, easing it up, soft kisses trailing along the exposed skin. They pulled away long enough for Kirihara to twist out of his shirt, Bunta tossing it to the side.
"It doesn’t matter what they think." Bunta rolled his eyes, pushing Kirihara’s hair off of his forehead.
Bunta had backed him against the counter, the sharp edge biting into Kirihara’s back. He didn’t mind too much, especially when Bunta pressed against him , nudging his knees apart to get closer. Light touches moved from Kirihara’s sides, up his stomach, Bunta’s nails dragging lightly against his skin. Their kisses got sloppy, Kirihara’s teeth nipping at the other man’s lower lip, the slow steady grind of Bunta’s hips against his own driving him crazy.
"I missed you." Bunta’s voice was low and rough, lips swollen from their kisses. "Hurry up and graduate."
Kirihara laughed softly, squirming against the other man. "I still haven’t found out if I’ve been accepted to the university…" his head tipped back, Bunta’s nibbling at the curve of his neck made it very hard to think, let alone speak properly. He shivered when the man started to suck at his skin, Kirihara’s hand grasping at the counter for something to hold on to. There was a thud, a glass clattering into the sink. Water spread along the counter-top, Kirihara cursing under his breath when Bunta pulled away. He grabbed for a wad of paper towels, mopping the water up.
"Clumsy." Bunta laughed as Kirihara flicked water at him.
"It’s your fault." Kirihara turned back to the water, new towels wadded in his hand. "You were distracting me." He tensed, voice rising as something cold slid down his back. Bunta’s breathy chuckle washing over his skin. The ice melted almost instantly on his skin, pooling at the small of his back. Kirihara could feel the water soaking into the top of his jeans. He shivered, the ice cube moving along the edge of his waistband, Bunta’s fingers trailing along after, warming the chilled skin.
"I’m not the one who knocked over the glass." Bunta licked up his back, Kirihara gripping the edge of the counter tightly. Bunta’s hands slid over Kirihara’s hips, fingers teasing over the front of his jeans. On reflex, Kirihara’s hips jerked, and he bit back a groan. The touch lingered, Bunta tracing circles over the fabric, the rasp of the zipper as it was tugged down was deafeningly loud.
"Bunta," Kirihara’s voice wavered, cracking slightly. Bunta undid the button of Kirihara’s jeans, slowly shoving the fabric off of his hips. Bunta’s skin was cool, his hand sliding into Kirihara’s boxers, fingers curling around his length, stroking him easily. Kirihara’s grip tightened, white knuckled as he gripped the counter top, hips moving into Bunta’s hand, body trembling.
"Move your boxers out of the way." Bunta murmured, breath hot against Kirihara’s shoulder. Kirihara’s hands shook as he shoved his boxers off of his hips, letting his pants and boxers gather at his knees. His eyes were locked on Bunta’s hand which continually stroked his length. Bunta panting was loud and ragged, Kirihara rocking his hips into the hand around his cock.
Despite the heat, and the fact that they were both sweaty and pressed so close together that Kirihara could feel the press of Bunta’s erection against his hip, he had goose-bumps on his skin. Kirihara slumped, soft sounds coming from him. Carefully, he reached back, fingers brushing along Bunta’s side, the other boy’s hand tightening in response.
The feeling of Bunta that close to him, and touching him, caused Kirihara to be quickly overwhelmed. He couldn’t muffle the sounds that came from him, soft gasping breaths that normally Kirihara would be embarrassed about. Bunta kissed sloppily at this shoulder, the back of his neck, his other hand sliding into Kirihara’s hair. A slow shudder worked down his spine, Kirihara biting his lower lip, body arching as he came all over Bunta’s hand and himself. He sagged, using the counter as support. He could barely make out what Bunta was murmuring to him, the soft touches to his side and back sending shocks through his body.
"You know what’s great about this apartment?" Bunta pressed closer to Kirihara, arms wrapped tight around him. Kirihara shrugged, still struggling to breathe properly. Bunta rose up on his toes, Kirihara shivering at the feeling of Bunta’s chest rubbing against his back. "The bath tub is really big."
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Kirihara Akaya x Marui Bunta
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/hand job/ 1,272
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: It's been a few months since they've seen each other.
Notes: for citrus_taste summer challenge. Con-crit and comments are appreciated.
Kirihara muttered under his breath as he was jostled into the businessman standing next to him. It was hot outside, hot in the train, people packed so close together that by the time he got off the train in Tokyo, sweat dripped off his nose, his shirt damp. He leaned against the wall, watching as people move all around him. He frowned, rummaging in his pocket and coming up empty. He started to panic checking his other pockets, finally finding the folded sheet of notebook paper. Kirihara unfolded it carefully, committing the words to memory.
The instructions were clear, though Kirihara managed to get turned around not once but twice. He had called Bunta after getting thoroughly lost. He scowled as the ringing gave way to a cheerful voice mail message. Frustration had set in. He hadn’t seen Bunta since Christmas, when the older boy had a break from classes. He hung up, looking around for anyone that looked as if they could point him in the right direction. In the park across the street, two younger women watched a couple of kids playing. Kirihara screwed up his courage and approached them.
When he actually showed up at Bunta’s apartment complex his shirt clung to his body, hair plastered to his head. He was tired, hot and irritated. He pounded up the stairs after the elevator doors slid shut in his face, the only occupant pushing frantically at what Kirihara assumed to be the ‘close door’ button. Kirihara traced along the characters on the doorplate, grinning a little bit. The door opened when he knocked, Kirihara stepping inside, and shutting the door behind him.
"Bunta-senpai?" He toed off his shoes, dropping his bag on the ground. There wasn’t any response, Kirihara’s grin slipping as he walked through the apartment. It was small, and cluttered. Kirihara touched almost everything, unable to keep his hands to himself. It was hot in the apartment as well, the windows open, fans going- a few papers tried to blow off the table, Kirihara replacing them under a text book. Bunta’s handwriting was messy and scrawled, the notes nearly unreadable.
There was a noise from the other room, Kirihara pausing in the doorway, watching. Bunta had his back to Kirihara. The other man was shirtless, in just his boxer shorts. The freezer was open, Bunta muttering as he rummaged.
"Senpai?"
Bunta jerked, the freezer slammed shut as he turned, wide-eyed to look at Kirihara. "You’re late."
"I got lost." Kirihara managed to get the words out before Bunta was hugging him tightly, a sloppy kiss landing first on his cheek. He groaned softly when Bunta kissed him properly, fingers tangling in his hair.
"I should have met you at the train station." Bunta’s lips brushed against Kirihara’s jaw as he spoke, sending shivers down Kirihara’s spine.
Kirihara snorted in response, nuzzling at Bunta’s bare shoulder. "I think someone would say something about the way you’re dressed." His hands slid down Bunta’s back, not minding the sweat, or the fact that Bunta’s skin was almost painfully hot to the touch. His hands stopped at Bunta’s hips, fingertips dipping under the waistband of the man’s boxers. Bunta’s hands were under his shirt, easing it up, soft kisses trailing along the exposed skin. They pulled away long enough for Kirihara to twist out of his shirt, Bunta tossing it to the side.
"It doesn’t matter what they think." Bunta rolled his eyes, pushing Kirihara’s hair off of his forehead.
Bunta had backed him against the counter, the sharp edge biting into Kirihara’s back. He didn’t mind too much, especially when Bunta pressed against him , nudging his knees apart to get closer. Light touches moved from Kirihara’s sides, up his stomach, Bunta’s nails dragging lightly against his skin. Their kisses got sloppy, Kirihara’s teeth nipping at the other man’s lower lip, the slow steady grind of Bunta’s hips against his own driving him crazy.
"I missed you." Bunta’s voice was low and rough, lips swollen from their kisses. "Hurry up and graduate."
Kirihara laughed softly, squirming against the other man. "I still haven’t found out if I’ve been accepted to the university…" his head tipped back, Bunta’s nibbling at the curve of his neck made it very hard to think, let alone speak properly. He shivered when the man started to suck at his skin, Kirihara’s hand grasping at the counter for something to hold on to. There was a thud, a glass clattering into the sink. Water spread along the counter-top, Kirihara cursing under his breath when Bunta pulled away. He grabbed for a wad of paper towels, mopping the water up.
"Clumsy." Bunta laughed as Kirihara flicked water at him.
"It’s your fault." Kirihara turned back to the water, new towels wadded in his hand. "You were distracting me." He tensed, voice rising as something cold slid down his back. Bunta’s breathy chuckle washing over his skin. The ice melted almost instantly on his skin, pooling at the small of his back. Kirihara could feel the water soaking into the top of his jeans. He shivered, the ice cube moving along the edge of his waistband, Bunta’s fingers trailing along after, warming the chilled skin.
"I’m not the one who knocked over the glass." Bunta licked up his back, Kirihara gripping the edge of the counter tightly. Bunta’s hands slid over Kirihara’s hips, fingers teasing over the front of his jeans. On reflex, Kirihara’s hips jerked, and he bit back a groan. The touch lingered, Bunta tracing circles over the fabric, the rasp of the zipper as it was tugged down was deafeningly loud.
"Bunta," Kirihara’s voice wavered, cracking slightly. Bunta undid the button of Kirihara’s jeans, slowly shoving the fabric off of his hips. Bunta’s skin was cool, his hand sliding into Kirihara’s boxers, fingers curling around his length, stroking him easily. Kirihara’s grip tightened, white knuckled as he gripped the counter top, hips moving into Bunta’s hand, body trembling.
"Move your boxers out of the way." Bunta murmured, breath hot against Kirihara’s shoulder. Kirihara’s hands shook as he shoved his boxers off of his hips, letting his pants and boxers gather at his knees. His eyes were locked on Bunta’s hand which continually stroked his length. Bunta panting was loud and ragged, Kirihara rocking his hips into the hand around his cock.
Despite the heat, and the fact that they were both sweaty and pressed so close together that Kirihara could feel the press of Bunta’s erection against his hip, he had goose-bumps on his skin. Kirihara slumped, soft sounds coming from him. Carefully, he reached back, fingers brushing along Bunta’s side, the other boy’s hand tightening in response.
The feeling of Bunta that close to him, and touching him, caused Kirihara to be quickly overwhelmed. He couldn’t muffle the sounds that came from him, soft gasping breaths that normally Kirihara would be embarrassed about. Bunta kissed sloppily at this shoulder, the back of his neck, his other hand sliding into Kirihara’s hair. A slow shudder worked down his spine, Kirihara biting his lower lip, body arching as he came all over Bunta’s hand and himself. He sagged, using the counter as support. He could barely make out what Bunta was murmuring to him, the soft touches to his side and back sending shocks through his body.
"You know what’s great about this apartment?" Bunta pressed closer to Kirihara, arms wrapped tight around him. Kirihara shrugged, still struggling to breathe properly. Bunta rose up on his toes, Kirihara shivering at the feeling of Bunta’s chest rubbing against his back. "The bath tub is really big."