Drabble Dump
I don't know. This just happened.
Ohtori forgets how this started.
This being his hand walking playfully over the length of Shishido’s spine, his warm skin absolutely wonderful under his fingertips.
He knows this isn’t… normal?
At one point they crossed a certain line that went beyond friendship, landed half in boyfriend territory and spent the rest of its time awkwardly straddling a border that wasn’t even properly defined in the first place.
Shishido makes his cheeks burn, sometimes. When he smiles -just like that- rough and sweet and crooked, for him only. God, it really makes his stomach flutter. Shishido will see this, smile some more and cup his burning cheeks and just -hold him. Breathing one another. Just. Perfect. And the next moment they could be horsing around and teasing each other, like two stupid teenage boys ought to.
They’re nothing and everything.
It’s really confusing.
It works.
It works until Ohtori thinks too hard about it. When he starts thinking, he realizes how strange their… their thing is. Being around Shishido calms him. Around him he can be his best and his worst, without having to worry about a single damn thing. Shishido is warm and welcoming and so, so beautiful, that it physically hurts to look at him sometimes. He wants to touch him and be close to him, to make sure he’s secure and happy and smiling. Loves to have his arms full of him, laughing, warm, so warm and smelling like… well. The place he wants to be. The only place he wants to be.
Surely that is love. But they never really kiss. Okay, no, sometimes they do. Shishido has no qualms about touching his mouth, or visa versa, but it’s just that… it’s only that. He loves Shishido’s mouth because it’s his and he wants to touch it because it’s a part of Shishido’s face, whether he does so with his hands, skin or own lips. But they don’t…
kiss.
Like that.
Ohtori doesn’t really think about doing so, either. He’ll be close and Shishido’s mouth will be there and he’ll say hi, but that’s it. And he touches him, strokes his skin, marks the blemishes and notes the freckles. Peels his shirt off sometimes, so it’s easier. Shishido’s skin is wonderful.
But.
It’s intense and it hurts and it dizzies him, but it’s not.
Not.
Sexual?
Not really.
One day Ohtori thinks too hard, can’t understand and recognize what they have, it’s so harsh and gentle and when did it even start? He loves Shishido, he’s sure of that.
So he pushes him down and kisses him.
Like that.
Sweeps his tongue into his mouth and tastes him. He tastes amazing, wonderful and sweet and like nothing he has words for. Shishido lets him, kisses back. But when they pull apart they consider each other, carefully, and, no, nope this is not… it is, but not like that.
Ohtori has him pinned. Shishido is so beautiful, his long hair spread around his head like silk, his lips swollen from the kiss and his eyes nothing but faithful, at ease and adoring. Maybe a little mischievous and Ohtori love that, loves how infinitely precious he feels, the curve of his cheek and the column of his neck, even as he knows Shishido is capable of overpowering him.
It’s everything and nothing. Ohtori frowns down at him, confused and a little hurt. So Shishido pulls him close, cradles his head against his chest and soothes him.
No, he doesn’t understand it. And he forgot when he stopped being able to.
All that he does know is that Shishido is where, who, he needs to go to when his own self is not enough. It’s weird, because it’s often not to crumple and have to be held. No. Often it enough to have him there, be able to touch him.
This.
His hand walking along Shishido’s knobby spine, rucking his t-shirt up as he goes. Shishido is on his stomach, caught up in a video game. Ohtori’s day was hell, he doesn’t even know what his father wants anymore because Ohtori is doing all he can.
Yet when his fingers conquer the bony bump where his spine connects with the base of his neck, do a little victory tap-dance before face planting in the heat of Shishido’s skin, it doesn’t matter. Dark hair is soft and steaks along his face as he nuzzles the back of Shishido’s neck. All his senpai does is tip his head back in acknowledgement before settling on the game once more.
That’s all he needs.
He forgot how this started.
But it’s what he needs.
Ohtori forgets how this started.
This being his hand walking playfully over the length of Shishido’s spine, his warm skin absolutely wonderful under his fingertips.
He knows this isn’t… normal?
At one point they crossed a certain line that went beyond friendship, landed half in boyfriend territory and spent the rest of its time awkwardly straddling a border that wasn’t even properly defined in the first place.
Shishido makes his cheeks burn, sometimes. When he smiles -just like that- rough and sweet and crooked, for him only. God, it really makes his stomach flutter. Shishido will see this, smile some more and cup his burning cheeks and just -hold him. Breathing one another. Just. Perfect. And the next moment they could be horsing around and teasing each other, like two stupid teenage boys ought to.
They’re nothing and everything.
It’s really confusing.
It works.
It works until Ohtori thinks too hard about it. When he starts thinking, he realizes how strange their… their thing is. Being around Shishido calms him. Around him he can be his best and his worst, without having to worry about a single damn thing. Shishido is warm and welcoming and so, so beautiful, that it physically hurts to look at him sometimes. He wants to touch him and be close to him, to make sure he’s secure and happy and smiling. Loves to have his arms full of him, laughing, warm, so warm and smelling like… well. The place he wants to be. The only place he wants to be.
Surely that is love. But they never really kiss. Okay, no, sometimes they do. Shishido has no qualms about touching his mouth, or visa versa, but it’s just that… it’s only that. He loves Shishido’s mouth because it’s his and he wants to touch it because it’s a part of Shishido’s face, whether he does so with his hands, skin or own lips. But they don’t…
kiss.
Like that.
Ohtori doesn’t really think about doing so, either. He’ll be close and Shishido’s mouth will be there and he’ll say hi, but that’s it. And he touches him, strokes his skin, marks the blemishes and notes the freckles. Peels his shirt off sometimes, so it’s easier. Shishido’s skin is wonderful.
But.
It’s intense and it hurts and it dizzies him, but it’s not.
Not.
Sexual?
Not really.
One day Ohtori thinks too hard, can’t understand and recognize what they have, it’s so harsh and gentle and when did it even start? He loves Shishido, he’s sure of that.
So he pushes him down and kisses him.
Like that.
Sweeps his tongue into his mouth and tastes him. He tastes amazing, wonderful and sweet and like nothing he has words for. Shishido lets him, kisses back. But when they pull apart they consider each other, carefully, and, no, nope this is not… it is, but not like that.
Ohtori has him pinned. Shishido is so beautiful, his long hair spread around his head like silk, his lips swollen from the kiss and his eyes nothing but faithful, at ease and adoring. Maybe a little mischievous and Ohtori love that, loves how infinitely precious he feels, the curve of his cheek and the column of his neck, even as he knows Shishido is capable of overpowering him.
It’s everything and nothing. Ohtori frowns down at him, confused and a little hurt. So Shishido pulls him close, cradles his head against his chest and soothes him.
No, he doesn’t understand it. And he forgot when he stopped being able to.
All that he does know is that Shishido is where, who, he needs to go to when his own self is not enough. It’s weird, because it’s often not to crumple and have to be held. No. Often it enough to have him there, be able to touch him.
This.
His hand walking along Shishido’s knobby spine, rucking his t-shirt up as he goes. Shishido is on his stomach, caught up in a video game. Ohtori’s day was hell, he doesn’t even know what his father wants anymore because Ohtori is doing all he can.
Yet when his fingers conquer the bony bump where his spine connects with the base of his neck, do a little victory tap-dance before face planting in the heat of Shishido’s skin, it doesn’t matter. Dark hair is soft and steaks along his face as he nuzzles the back of Shishido’s neck. All his senpai does is tip his head back in acknowledgement before settling on the game once more.
That’s all he needs.
He forgot how this started.
But it’s what he needs.