[PoT]:: Kirihara/Bunta Words to Reach You.
Title: Words to Reach You.
Pairing: Kirihara/Bunta
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/ oral sex, sex/ 1,558
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: In which Kirihara tries to surprise Bunta, but gets surprised instead.
Notes: Please let me know your thoughts/constructive crit/comments.
Happy, happy birthday to fuefuki_san!!!
Kirihara looked around him, and seeing no one, stooped down and turned up the corner of the mat in front of the door. He picked up the small silver key, kicking the mat back into place. He stood up, brushed his hands off on his jeans and pushed the key into the lock. The door opened under his hands, and he let himself into Bunta’s apartment. He shut the door behind him, relocking it. Tossing the key in his hand, Kirihara thought about it and slipped it into his pocket. He took his shoes off, picked up the plastic bag and shuffled into the kitchen.
Bunta's kitchen was obviously the room that had the most time spent in it. There were dishes piled in the sink, a few cookbooks on the counter, one flipped open with a red circle around a recipe. It was clean and spacious for an apartment, the window overlooking the street. Kirihara paused, looking over a shopping list, fingers brushing along the kanji as he read it. He hadn't had much of a chance to see Bunta. The older boy was busy with university, and Kirihara was preparing for upcoming end of year exams.
From his back pocket, Kirihara carefully drew out a piece of paper, unfolded it and set it on the counter. The directions were simple enough, and a quick call to his mother when he was standing in the middle of the grocery store cleared up any anxiety about the plethora of flours available for purchase.
Carefully, he pulled his purchases from the plastic sack he had set on the counter. He moved around the kitchen as though it was his own, pulling a pan from a cabinet, and setting the oven to the correct temperature. Kirihara peered at the recipe, carefully measuring and pouring the dry ingredients into the bowl. He cursed when there was a cloud of flour and leavening agents, most if it landing on his shirt. He pounded at his shirt, smearing the powder everywhere. With a resigned sigh, he tipped the mess into the sink, and started to re-measure.
"You'll clog the sink like that."
Kirihara yelped, dropping the measuring spoons to the floor with a clatter. He turned, seeing Bunta in the doorway. The older boy was in pajama bottoms, shirtless, and rumpled. "You're also making a mess." Barefoot, Bunta padded into the kitchen, gently moving the flour out of Kirihara's reach.
"Grab me that towel." He pointed to a checkered towel hanging off the oven. Kirihara grabbed it, and handed it over to the older boy, who wiped the counter down. "Take your time." Bunta leaned against the counter, watching as Kirihara re-measured the dry ingredients.
"You weren't supposed to be home." Kirihara muttered, tongue sticking out as he cracked the eggs into a separate bowl.
"If I wasn't you would have destroyed my kitchen." Bunta grunted, pulling himself onto the counter to sit.
"I wanted to surprise you." Kirihara swiped for the piece of paper that had the recipe scrawled on it.
"This sounds amazing." Bunta groaned softly. "Now add your wet to the dry." He pointed to the other bowl Kirihara had mixed ingredients in. "Slowly, and just barely mix it. Be gentle."
Kirihara stuck his tongue out at Bunta, mixing the two blends together. "I missed you."
"I know." There was a light hand in his hair, Kirihara tipping his head up to it. "Renji says you're doing well though." A small smirk. "I make the data-man keep tabs on you while I'm away."
"I know." Kirihara greased the cake pan. "Renji-senpai tries to make it so he's not spying, but he totally is." He put the cake pans in the oven, and turned back to the older boy. "How did you know I was here? Did Renji-senpai tell you?"
"You're not very sneaky, Akaya."
"You're not very sneaky, Akaya." Kirihara muttered under his breath. "I can too be sneaky. If I try."
"You weren't trying very hard then." Bunta said. "Come here." Kirihara shuffled across the kitchen to stand in front of Bunta. He allowed the older boy to pull him closer, barely containing the wicked smile when Bunta's legs wrapped around his waist.
"The cake has to bake for a little while doesn't it?" Pale fingers tipped Kirihara's chin up. Kirihara rose up on his toes, closing the distance with a soft kiss. Bunta pulled him closer, fingers tangling in Kirihara's hair as they kissed.
Kirihara groaned low in his throat, hands sliding up Bunta's sides. Part of him was pleased with the way the older boy arched under his touch, at the way Bunta's hand tightened in his hair. He broke the kiss, teeth nipping at Bunta's lower lip. Soft kisses trailed along Bunta's jaw, moving down to the pale curve of the other boy's neck. Kirihara sucked lightly, pressing closer when Bunta shivered, leaning back against the counter. His hands smoothed up Bunta's stomach, to his chest, fingers teasing over Bunta's nipples.
"Kirihara…" Bunta gasped, head tipped back, lips parted, panting softly. Kirihara smirked, licked down across the boy's collar bones, mouth going to Bunta's chest, licking first at nipple than the other. Bunta's hands clutched at Kirihara's shirt, tugging at the fabric.
"Yes, senpai?" Kirihara pulled away, looking up at Bunta. His eyes were wide, feigning picture perfect innocence. As he spoke, his hand moved across Bunta's torso once more, lower, sliding between them, fingers barely tracing over the front of Bunta's pajama pants.
"Don’t stop, don't you dare stop, you stupid, beautiful little brat." Bunta's voice grew more strained with each word. Kirihara figured it was because his fingers were under the waistband of Bunta's sweats, gently teasing over the head of the older boy's cock.
"Lift your hips." In all honesty, Kirihara could physically lift Bunta, but the other boy only liked being manhandled in certain situations. This probably wasn't one of them. When Bunta did as he asked, Kirihara tugged at the sweatpants, pulling them down, enough.
"Counter's cold."
"You won't care." Kirihara said. His hand wrapped around Bunta's length stroking it. He shifted his weight, leaned down and slowly eased the head into his mouth, taking his time to take all of the other boy. The soft sound was all the permission he needed from Bunta, and so Kirihara sucked. His head moved between Bunta's legs, groaning softly when the fingers tangled once more in his hair. Relaxing his throat, he took Bunta's cock as far as he could, nose brushing against pale skin. He held it, until the hand tightened, tugged sharply at his hair. He eased off as Bunta's hips rolled up, thrusting his length into Kirihara's mouth.
Kirihara rolled his eyes up to watch the other boy, relaxing his mouth, head moving lazily. Bunta continued to thrust up into his mouth, hand tight in Kirihara's hair, guiding him up and down. It didn't take much longer before Bunta came, head falling forward, panting harshly. Kirihara swallowed, gently licking the other boy clean. He fixed Bunta's pants, lifting the other boy to tug them back up around his hips. He wiped the corner of his mouth with a smirk, watching Bunta.
"Jerk-face." Once again Kirihara was tugged in for a kiss. "That wasn't fair." Another kiss, and another, each lingering longer than the one before it. "I love you." Another kiss, Kirihara wrapping tighter around the other boy, pulling him off the counter, and holding him close. It was rare for Bunta to say that out loud, and it wasn't as though Kirihara didn't know, but when Bunta did speak it, he treasured it.
"I know." He smirked.
"That's not what you say." Bunta glared at him. "I just confessed to you, and you act all smug…"
Kirihara kissed him again, "I love you too." Nose to nose, lips brushing against Bunta's. "I just think it sounds prettier coming from senpai."
"Your flattery gets you everywhere." Bunta grinned, and tipped his head. "Cake's almost done." Kirihara untangled himself and went to the oven, pulling the cakes out when the timer went off. Placing them on a baker's rack to cool, he turned the oven off. Bunta wrapped around him from behind, arms tight across his stomach.
"While they cool, you should come to the bedroom. Lay down and rest for a little bit."
Kirihara followed Bunta back to the bedroom, toppling into bed with the other boy. They were a tangle of blankets and clothes, long tanned limbs intertwined with pale arms and legs. There was no need to be quiet, Kirihara urging the noises from Bunta with kisses and teeth, and pushing in slow enough for the other boy to rock back against Kirihara's cock demanding more.
Sticky with sweat, and tangled in the blankets, Kirihara sprawled out on the bed when they were finished. Bunta lay next to him, bright red hair tickling under Kirihara's chin. Somehow they had managed to tug a blanket up and over them. Kirihara's fingers moved slowly through Bunta's hair, staring up at the ceiling, his heart still pounding entirely too fast. He could feel Bunta's heart against his own body, mirroring in the fast pace.
"You're staying this weekend." Bunta's voice was lazy and rough. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah." Kirihara said, tipping his head down to kiss Bunta's temple. "All weekend."
Pairing: Kirihara/Bunta
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/ oral sex, sex/ 1,558
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: In which Kirihara tries to surprise Bunta, but gets surprised instead.
Notes: Please let me know your thoughts/constructive crit/comments.
Happy, happy birthday to fuefuki_san!!!
Kirihara looked around him, and seeing no one, stooped down and turned up the corner of the mat in front of the door. He picked up the small silver key, kicking the mat back into place. He stood up, brushed his hands off on his jeans and pushed the key into the lock. The door opened under his hands, and he let himself into Bunta’s apartment. He shut the door behind him, relocking it. Tossing the key in his hand, Kirihara thought about it and slipped it into his pocket. He took his shoes off, picked up the plastic bag and shuffled into the kitchen.
Bunta's kitchen was obviously the room that had the most time spent in it. There were dishes piled in the sink, a few cookbooks on the counter, one flipped open with a red circle around a recipe. It was clean and spacious for an apartment, the window overlooking the street. Kirihara paused, looking over a shopping list, fingers brushing along the kanji as he read it. He hadn't had much of a chance to see Bunta. The older boy was busy with university, and Kirihara was preparing for upcoming end of year exams.
From his back pocket, Kirihara carefully drew out a piece of paper, unfolded it and set it on the counter. The directions were simple enough, and a quick call to his mother when he was standing in the middle of the grocery store cleared up any anxiety about the plethora of flours available for purchase.
Carefully, he pulled his purchases from the plastic sack he had set on the counter. He moved around the kitchen as though it was his own, pulling a pan from a cabinet, and setting the oven to the correct temperature. Kirihara peered at the recipe, carefully measuring and pouring the dry ingredients into the bowl. He cursed when there was a cloud of flour and leavening agents, most if it landing on his shirt. He pounded at his shirt, smearing the powder everywhere. With a resigned sigh, he tipped the mess into the sink, and started to re-measure.
"You'll clog the sink like that."
Kirihara yelped, dropping the measuring spoons to the floor with a clatter. He turned, seeing Bunta in the doorway. The older boy was in pajama bottoms, shirtless, and rumpled. "You're also making a mess." Barefoot, Bunta padded into the kitchen, gently moving the flour out of Kirihara's reach.
"Grab me that towel." He pointed to a checkered towel hanging off the oven. Kirihara grabbed it, and handed it over to the older boy, who wiped the counter down. "Take your time." Bunta leaned against the counter, watching as Kirihara re-measured the dry ingredients.
"You weren't supposed to be home." Kirihara muttered, tongue sticking out as he cracked the eggs into a separate bowl.
"If I wasn't you would have destroyed my kitchen." Bunta grunted, pulling himself onto the counter to sit.
"I wanted to surprise you." Kirihara swiped for the piece of paper that had the recipe scrawled on it.
"This sounds amazing." Bunta groaned softly. "Now add your wet to the dry." He pointed to the other bowl Kirihara had mixed ingredients in. "Slowly, and just barely mix it. Be gentle."
Kirihara stuck his tongue out at Bunta, mixing the two blends together. "I missed you."
"I know." There was a light hand in his hair, Kirihara tipping his head up to it. "Renji says you're doing well though." A small smirk. "I make the data-man keep tabs on you while I'm away."
"I know." Kirihara greased the cake pan. "Renji-senpai tries to make it so he's not spying, but he totally is." He put the cake pans in the oven, and turned back to the older boy. "How did you know I was here? Did Renji-senpai tell you?"
"You're not very sneaky, Akaya."
"You're not very sneaky, Akaya." Kirihara muttered under his breath. "I can too be sneaky. If I try."
"You weren't trying very hard then." Bunta said. "Come here." Kirihara shuffled across the kitchen to stand in front of Bunta. He allowed the older boy to pull him closer, barely containing the wicked smile when Bunta's legs wrapped around his waist.
"The cake has to bake for a little while doesn't it?" Pale fingers tipped Kirihara's chin up. Kirihara rose up on his toes, closing the distance with a soft kiss. Bunta pulled him closer, fingers tangling in Kirihara's hair as they kissed.
Kirihara groaned low in his throat, hands sliding up Bunta's sides. Part of him was pleased with the way the older boy arched under his touch, at the way Bunta's hand tightened in his hair. He broke the kiss, teeth nipping at Bunta's lower lip. Soft kisses trailed along Bunta's jaw, moving down to the pale curve of the other boy's neck. Kirihara sucked lightly, pressing closer when Bunta shivered, leaning back against the counter. His hands smoothed up Bunta's stomach, to his chest, fingers teasing over Bunta's nipples.
"Kirihara…" Bunta gasped, head tipped back, lips parted, panting softly. Kirihara smirked, licked down across the boy's collar bones, mouth going to Bunta's chest, licking first at nipple than the other. Bunta's hands clutched at Kirihara's shirt, tugging at the fabric.
"Yes, senpai?" Kirihara pulled away, looking up at Bunta. His eyes were wide, feigning picture perfect innocence. As he spoke, his hand moved across Bunta's torso once more, lower, sliding between them, fingers barely tracing over the front of Bunta's pajama pants.
"Don’t stop, don't you dare stop, you stupid, beautiful little brat." Bunta's voice grew more strained with each word. Kirihara figured it was because his fingers were under the waistband of Bunta's sweats, gently teasing over the head of the older boy's cock.
"Lift your hips." In all honesty, Kirihara could physically lift Bunta, but the other boy only liked being manhandled in certain situations. This probably wasn't one of them. When Bunta did as he asked, Kirihara tugged at the sweatpants, pulling them down, enough.
"Counter's cold."
"You won't care." Kirihara said. His hand wrapped around Bunta's length stroking it. He shifted his weight, leaned down and slowly eased the head into his mouth, taking his time to take all of the other boy. The soft sound was all the permission he needed from Bunta, and so Kirihara sucked. His head moved between Bunta's legs, groaning softly when the fingers tangled once more in his hair. Relaxing his throat, he took Bunta's cock as far as he could, nose brushing against pale skin. He held it, until the hand tightened, tugged sharply at his hair. He eased off as Bunta's hips rolled up, thrusting his length into Kirihara's mouth.
Kirihara rolled his eyes up to watch the other boy, relaxing his mouth, head moving lazily. Bunta continued to thrust up into his mouth, hand tight in Kirihara's hair, guiding him up and down. It didn't take much longer before Bunta came, head falling forward, panting harshly. Kirihara swallowed, gently licking the other boy clean. He fixed Bunta's pants, lifting the other boy to tug them back up around his hips. He wiped the corner of his mouth with a smirk, watching Bunta.
"Jerk-face." Once again Kirihara was tugged in for a kiss. "That wasn't fair." Another kiss, and another, each lingering longer than the one before it. "I love you." Another kiss, Kirihara wrapping tighter around the other boy, pulling him off the counter, and holding him close. It was rare for Bunta to say that out loud, and it wasn't as though Kirihara didn't know, but when Bunta did speak it, he treasured it.
"I know." He smirked.
"That's not what you say." Bunta glared at him. "I just confessed to you, and you act all smug…"
Kirihara kissed him again, "I love you too." Nose to nose, lips brushing against Bunta's. "I just think it sounds prettier coming from senpai."
"Your flattery gets you everywhere." Bunta grinned, and tipped his head. "Cake's almost done." Kirihara untangled himself and went to the oven, pulling the cakes out when the timer went off. Placing them on a baker's rack to cool, he turned the oven off. Bunta wrapped around him from behind, arms tight across his stomach.
"While they cool, you should come to the bedroom. Lay down and rest for a little bit."
Kirihara followed Bunta back to the bedroom, toppling into bed with the other boy. They were a tangle of blankets and clothes, long tanned limbs intertwined with pale arms and legs. There was no need to be quiet, Kirihara urging the noises from Bunta with kisses and teeth, and pushing in slow enough for the other boy to rock back against Kirihara's cock demanding more.
Sticky with sweat, and tangled in the blankets, Kirihara sprawled out on the bed when they were finished. Bunta lay next to him, bright red hair tickling under Kirihara's chin. Somehow they had managed to tug a blanket up and over them. Kirihara's fingers moved slowly through Bunta's hair, staring up at the ceiling, his heart still pounding entirely too fast. He could feel Bunta's heart against his own body, mirroring in the fast pace.
"You're staying this weekend." Bunta's voice was lazy and rough. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah." Kirihara said, tipping his head down to kiss Bunta's temple. "All weekend."