[PoT] Thirty two seconds to nowhere, part 1 (Niou/Yagyuu, r)
Title: Thirty two seconds to nowhere (part 1)
Characters: Niou/Yagyuu
Rating: R-ish for adult language
Summary: Once upon a lazy summer night...
Notes: Written for giving_ground's birthday ♥ Hope you enjoy the first installment my darling!
Thirty two seconds to nowhere
The air conditioning unit hanging on the street-side window of their cheap little apartment was busted again, and the warm evening breeze brought with it the smell of curry along with the distant wail of sirens, an afterthought of sewer sweat and the shrill meowing of the petulant tabby trapped behind the mesh screen of the upstairs balcony. The antique radio mounted on the wall let out a tinny recording of something languorous and slow, crackling every now and then over the liquid guitars and the breathy muted trumpets.
Inside, Niou lay improbably sprawled on the sagging couch, in constant danger of being swallowed by the oversized cushions; silver-white tufts of hair fluttered in time with the truncated arc of the small fan perched precariously on the edge of a bookshelf. Seated across from him in an armchair inexplicably upholstered in plaid, Yagyuu watched the ribbons tied to the fan's grille tickle Niou's cheek with every sweep, idly wondering if the thin tongues of orange cloth were the very same that came with the box of chocolates he'd gotten Niou for his birthday, months ago.
His laptop sat burning holes on his thighs, temporarily forgotten.
“We should get a pool.”
“Hmm?”
“An artificially made recipient of water suitable for human use. Or something. You know, to avoid complete and utter
dehydration in the middle of Sahara season.”
“I'm pretty sure Sahara doesn't refer to a time of the year, Niou.”
“It's called a poetic licence for a reason, Dictionary Man. Mind you, maybe we could fill it with gin instead.”
“Creative, and yet, utterly impractical. One might wonder how all that grey matter between your ears ever gets put to constructive use.”
“Well clearly my brilliance is in very real danger of being permanently compromised by the unrelenting angry ball of fire in the sky. I can see it from here: 'alas, poor Niou, I knew him well' and assorted such nonsense”
“Don't worry too much, I'm sure I can come up with a suitable epitaph to commemorate your untimely demise.”
“So you do know the way to a man's heart after all! Might be hope for you yet,” Niou drawled as he batted lazily at the coloured ribbons, much the same way a sleepy cat would.
A thin smile tugged at the corners of Yagyuu's lips as he powered the laptop down, sliding the uncomfortably warm weight onto a small coffee table cluttered with magazines and an assortment of bizarre competition forms. He picked up the topmost one as he got up, stretching his legs gratefully as he made his way towards the alcove that could generously be described as a kitchen.
“Win a holiday for two in the Bermuda Triangle?”
“Oh, I'm saving that one for Yukimura and Sanada. That boy's still got his cap screwed on too tight if you ask me.”
“I'm not entirely sure how a trip to the Twilight Zone would help in that regard.”
Peering atop the counter that divided the living room from the small kitchen, Yagyuu caught a glimpse of tanned flesh as Niou shifted to lie on his stomach, white cotton vest riding up at the motion. Unconsciously running his tongue across suddenly dry, tingling lips, he turned back towards the fridge and bent down to retrieve two cans of blessedly cold beer while Niou muttered something unintelligible from the depths of the couch. Yagyuu couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught the words 'loosen up' and 'frisky ghosts', which didn't especially encourage him to press the issue any further.
Instead he crept back into the other half of the room, bare feet padding noiselessly on the faded rug, and adroitly rested the unopened can on Niou's unsuspecting neck.
“Oh my godi'llmakesweetlovetoyourightnowifthat'sbeer,” and a few contortions later, “Kirin! The nectar of the gods! You know I could love you sometimes, Yagyuu.”
“Only sometimes?,” came the bemused reply as they knocked their cans in a well-practiced motion.
“Well, most of the time I just want to fuck you six ways to sunday instead,” he deadpanned back, shrugging a shoulder and enjoying the slight choking sounds Yagyuu was manfully trying to cover up.
He scooted over on the couch and they sat there drinking in contented silence for a while, watching the long crimson shadows retreat across the room, bathing the room in smokeless fire.
“Hey, whatever happened to the TV?”
“Television rots your brain, Yagyuu. I threw it out the window.”
“For your deposit's sake I sincerely hope not.”
“Nah, I lent it to Kirihara to plug his Playstation 3 in. Something about a new beat-em-up to beta.”
“Ah. Somehow that fails to be reassuring.”
“Look on the bright side: no more daytime television. Or infomercials. Or that creepy cooking show with the guy who looks like he's always about to have a heart attack in the middle of his sauce bearnaise.”
“I suppose you have a point there.”
The neon light across the street flickered to life, bathing the flat in alternating shades of green and blue; the temperature seemed to finally drop a degree or two, but that might just have been an illusion as well: alone they floated, underwater creatures tethered to nothing but their intermittent shadows.
The light did interesting things to the sharp planes of Niou's face, bounced off his pale hair and glittered on a crescent of teeth: anything could happen now.
He nearly missed the underhand throw and fumbled with the empty can for a moment as his fingers closed around something small, metallic and warm. Of course. He jittered the keys around his finger for a moment and effortlessly pulled Niou up to his feet: his eyes shone electric blue for a second.
Niou's pride and joy, an honest to God Vespa decked out in the pale green that always reminded Yagyuu of the walls of his elementary school, much to Niou's dismay, who for his part seemed to think it should bring to mind the image of burly mustachioed men in tight clothing zipping down cobbled streets of faraway Italian cities.
The old staircase was stuffy with cooking smells and some of the lights were out: in the semi darkness their hands and bodies brushed, trailing fingers stealing touches between doors, a lazy stirring of desires only somewhat held in check by the semi-public place they drifted through.
Ground floor, and quick work was done of the lock looping around the diminutive beast's wheels.
"Am I to understand I am the designated driver of this little escapade?" Yagyuu asked even as he settled into the front part of the seat, turning the key into the ignition to elicit the characteristic purr between his thighs.
A low chuckle answered him, somewhere deep inside Niou's throat that sent little shivers down his spine despite the warmth of the evening, and a pair of long arms snaked around his waist, tightening once as he leaned forward to nibble at his earlobe.
Warm light spilled from a nearby terrace, draping them in liquid scarlet light as Yagyuu brought the engine roaring into the street, Niou's breathless laugh trailing behind them in scattering echoes: maybe just for tonight, there really was nothing to lose.
Characters: Niou/Yagyuu
Rating: R-ish for adult language
Summary: Once upon a lazy summer night...
Notes: Written for giving_ground's birthday ♥ Hope you enjoy the first installment my darling!
Thirty two seconds to nowhere
The air conditioning unit hanging on the street-side window of their cheap little apartment was busted again, and the warm evening breeze brought with it the smell of curry along with the distant wail of sirens, an afterthought of sewer sweat and the shrill meowing of the petulant tabby trapped behind the mesh screen of the upstairs balcony. The antique radio mounted on the wall let out a tinny recording of something languorous and slow, crackling every now and then over the liquid guitars and the breathy muted trumpets.
Inside, Niou lay improbably sprawled on the sagging couch, in constant danger of being swallowed by the oversized cushions; silver-white tufts of hair fluttered in time with the truncated arc of the small fan perched precariously on the edge of a bookshelf. Seated across from him in an armchair inexplicably upholstered in plaid, Yagyuu watched the ribbons tied to the fan's grille tickle Niou's cheek with every sweep, idly wondering if the thin tongues of orange cloth were the very same that came with the box of chocolates he'd gotten Niou for his birthday, months ago.
His laptop sat burning holes on his thighs, temporarily forgotten.
“We should get a pool.”
“Hmm?”
“An artificially made recipient of water suitable for human use. Or something. You know, to avoid complete and utter
dehydration in the middle of Sahara season.”
“I'm pretty sure Sahara doesn't refer to a time of the year, Niou.”
“It's called a poetic licence for a reason, Dictionary Man. Mind you, maybe we could fill it with gin instead.”
“Creative, and yet, utterly impractical. One might wonder how all that grey matter between your ears ever gets put to constructive use.”
“Well clearly my brilliance is in very real danger of being permanently compromised by the unrelenting angry ball of fire in the sky. I can see it from here: 'alas, poor Niou, I knew him well' and assorted such nonsense”
“Don't worry too much, I'm sure I can come up with a suitable epitaph to commemorate your untimely demise.”
“So you do know the way to a man's heart after all! Might be hope for you yet,” Niou drawled as he batted lazily at the coloured ribbons, much the same way a sleepy cat would.
A thin smile tugged at the corners of Yagyuu's lips as he powered the laptop down, sliding the uncomfortably warm weight onto a small coffee table cluttered with magazines and an assortment of bizarre competition forms. He picked up the topmost one as he got up, stretching his legs gratefully as he made his way towards the alcove that could generously be described as a kitchen.
“Win a holiday for two in the Bermuda Triangle?”
“Oh, I'm saving that one for Yukimura and Sanada. That boy's still got his cap screwed on too tight if you ask me.”
“I'm not entirely sure how a trip to the Twilight Zone would help in that regard.”
Peering atop the counter that divided the living room from the small kitchen, Yagyuu caught a glimpse of tanned flesh as Niou shifted to lie on his stomach, white cotton vest riding up at the motion. Unconsciously running his tongue across suddenly dry, tingling lips, he turned back towards the fridge and bent down to retrieve two cans of blessedly cold beer while Niou muttered something unintelligible from the depths of the couch. Yagyuu couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught the words 'loosen up' and 'frisky ghosts', which didn't especially encourage him to press the issue any further.
Instead he crept back into the other half of the room, bare feet padding noiselessly on the faded rug, and adroitly rested the unopened can on Niou's unsuspecting neck.
“Oh my godi'llmakesweetlovetoyourightnowifthat'sbeer,” and a few contortions later, “Kirin! The nectar of the gods! You know I could love you sometimes, Yagyuu.”
“Only sometimes?,” came the bemused reply as they knocked their cans in a well-practiced motion.
“Well, most of the time I just want to fuck you six ways to sunday instead,” he deadpanned back, shrugging a shoulder and enjoying the slight choking sounds Yagyuu was manfully trying to cover up.
He scooted over on the couch and they sat there drinking in contented silence for a while, watching the long crimson shadows retreat across the room, bathing the room in smokeless fire.
“Hey, whatever happened to the TV?”
“Television rots your brain, Yagyuu. I threw it out the window.”
“For your deposit's sake I sincerely hope not.”
“Nah, I lent it to Kirihara to plug his Playstation 3 in. Something about a new beat-em-up to beta.”
“Ah. Somehow that fails to be reassuring.”
“Look on the bright side: no more daytime television. Or infomercials. Or that creepy cooking show with the guy who looks like he's always about to have a heart attack in the middle of his sauce bearnaise.”
“I suppose you have a point there.”
The neon light across the street flickered to life, bathing the flat in alternating shades of green and blue; the temperature seemed to finally drop a degree or two, but that might just have been an illusion as well: alone they floated, underwater creatures tethered to nothing but their intermittent shadows.
The light did interesting things to the sharp planes of Niou's face, bounced off his pale hair and glittered on a crescent of teeth: anything could happen now.
He nearly missed the underhand throw and fumbled with the empty can for a moment as his fingers closed around something small, metallic and warm. Of course. He jittered the keys around his finger for a moment and effortlessly pulled Niou up to his feet: his eyes shone electric blue for a second.
Niou's pride and joy, an honest to God Vespa decked out in the pale green that always reminded Yagyuu of the walls of his elementary school, much to Niou's dismay, who for his part seemed to think it should bring to mind the image of burly mustachioed men in tight clothing zipping down cobbled streets of faraway Italian cities.
The old staircase was stuffy with cooking smells and some of the lights were out: in the semi darkness their hands and bodies brushed, trailing fingers stealing touches between doors, a lazy stirring of desires only somewhat held in check by the semi-public place they drifted through.
Ground floor, and quick work was done of the lock looping around the diminutive beast's wheels.
"Am I to understand I am the designated driver of this little escapade?" Yagyuu asked even as he settled into the front part of the seat, turning the key into the ignition to elicit the characteristic purr between his thighs.
A low chuckle answered him, somewhere deep inside Niou's throat that sent little shivers down his spine despite the warmth of the evening, and a pair of long arms snaked around his waist, tightening once as he leaned forward to nibble at his earlobe.
Warm light spilled from a nearby terrace, draping them in liquid scarlet light as Yagyuu brought the engine roaring into the street, Niou's breathless laugh trailing behind them in scattering echoes: maybe just for tonight, there really was nothing to lose.