SanaKiri [ficlet]
Title: Hurry up and wait
Paring: Sanada/Kirihara
Rating: S for smut
Summary: Kirihara has no patience. At all.
a/n ~ Okay, so this is not heartwrenching at all, but it IS passionate. :D There were several suggestions that I will be making use of over the next couple of days. YanaYuki, AkuTaka, Pix/JJ, etc. Thanks for helping me out - I don't feel so emotionally constipated anymore. *cheers* You guys are such good eggs. Anyway, smut for joo.
hurry up and wait
Kirihara knew he was a clock-watcher, but not in the same manner that Sanada was. Kirihara was impatient; he wanted things to get moving. He didn't like spending his time on pursuits that he considered insignificant and not worthwhile. He wanted to hurry up and get there.
Sanada paced. He plodded, he planned, he considered. His every move was of strong, silent deliberation and no one - not even Yukimura - could sway him from a course he'd set. It bothered him sometimes, how Sanada could sit still for two hours and read or study or watch TV shows that made Kirihara fall asleep. It bothered him in the same way that he knew his restlessness tried Sanada's patience. He could see it in the way Sanada tensed when Kirihara fidgeted. The way his eye twitched when Kirihara asked him ten questions in the span of a minute and a half. The way he looked at Kirihara with that expression of exaggerated patience that said he was listening but was still aggravated at having been disturbed. It hurt Kirihara's feelings sometimes, to realize that Sanada couldn't humor him the way Yanagi always did, but then he would remind himself that there were lots of things that Kirihara knew (and really liked) about Sanada that he didn't know about Yanagi.
Like the way Sanada still got so worried if Yukimura showed the slightest weakness on the court and the way he always waited for Kirihara in the mornings even though he pretended to be only searching through his backpack. The way he worked Kirihara even harder on the court than he used to because know he knew that Kirihara was worth his efforts. The way he'd blush and respectfully turn his head when he caught Yanagi and Yukimura sharing a private moment and the way he sometimes let Niou and Yagyuu skip practice because he knew they did so much better all by themselves.
But there were more than just those things. Much, much more, in fact.
Glancing at the clock that hung over Sanada's bed, he paused his game and set the controller down when he turned to fix his gaze on his senpai. These days he left his X-box at Sanada's and, besides, he'd received a new Wii last Christmas that kept him busy at home.
"Senpai," he said, talking over the game's music - music that he knew he'd heard Sanada humming in the shower after practice last week - and resting his chin on the edge of Sanada's futon.
"Hm?" Sanada grunted, brows drawn as he painstakingly copied unfamiliar characters from a workbook onto a blank sheet of paper. Kirihara frowned; Sanada wasn't doing homework and so he should be paying attention to him.
"What are you doing?" Kirihara asked, craning his neck in an attempt to puzzle out what Sanada was working on. "That's not homework."
"No," Sanada said, looking up finally and blinking at the light as though he'd lost track of time and his surroundings. Quickly, he glanced over Kirihara's shoulder to the television, possibly attempting to ascertain if he'd truly turned his attention away from the game he'd been playing for over an hour. "It's going to be a tattoo. For my brother."
He didn't seem willing to elaborate and since Kirihara didn't really care in the first place, he was happy to let the matter drop. Instead, he simply looked at Sanada and wondered, as he often did, how he'd ever managed to dislike him. With his hat off and his hair hanging over his forehead, his strong jaw and dark eyes - he wasn't pretty like Yukimura but he was good-looking enough to make Kirihara completely uninterested in girls. It was still weird for Kirihara to realize that he'd rather have Sanada's arms around him than to cozy up with a girl any day, but he'd managed to get pretty well used to the idea in the few months they'd been exclusive. He laughed to himself to think about it. Exclusive. A couple. Boyfriends. It made Kirihara bashful sometimes to remember the many heated kisses and urgent touches they'd shared and if someone had told him last year that he'd ever be excited about touching Sanada's dick, he'd have punched them in the face, but one look at Sanada always helped to put things into perspective.
"Your mom'll freak," was all he said, crawling over to get a closer look. Or to get closer to Sanada - whatever.
Upside down, the letters made about as much sense as they would have had he been looking at them from the right angle and he tilted his head to study them. "Hey," he said. "This is in English! I can tell!"
Almost smiling, Sanada nodded and didn't object when Kirihara flopped down at his feet, even going so far as to spread his legs to make room for Kirihara to lean against the chair. "It is. If you'd study, you might even be able to read it."
"Che, don't start that again," he complained, taking the notebook and turning it sideways. "I mean, it looks kind of familiar, I guess."
When it became obvious that Sanada had no intention of volunteering any information, he looked up, brows drawn in concentration. "Okay, I give. What's it say?"
"A-y-a-k-o," he replied, sounding it out slowly and rousing a sort of jealousy that Kirihara didn't know he could feel. He didn't like it, some girl's name so deep and slow and sweet on his senpai's lips.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, expression accusatory. "That's my sister!"
Sanada shrugged and took the notebook from Kirihara, closing it and setting it aside. It was at that point that Kirihara really noticed the snug red muscle shirt that Sanada wore and he got that familiar, tight underwear, butterflies-in-the-tummy feeling.
"There are other girls named Ayako. It doesn't mean anything."
Kirihara frowned. He wanted to think about this a bit more: his hateful, sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued sister making it with Sanada's big, stupid brother. He wanted to get good and mad about it and possibly throw his weight around some. His sister was a bitch most of the time, but she was still his sister and it was his job to make sure no guys got into her pants.
"Senpai," he said seriously, eyes somber and dark under his mop of black curls. "If your brother is doing it with my sister, I'm going to have to kick his ass. You know that, right?"
Sanada blinked. Instead of being upset, which was what he was supposed to be, he just looked bored and unimpressed. "Why?" he asked.
"Why?" Kirihara repeated incredulously. Sanada was the epitome of honor and obligation; Kirihara couldn't imagine why in the world he didn't understand where Kirihara was coming from. "Well…because!"
"I don't think it's our right to say anything," Sanada said, giving Kirihara that look. "You and I," he continued, blushing a little and making Kirihara's heart rate pick up. "We're…you know."
You know. Kirihara grinned; Sanada still couldn't say it.
"You know? What do you mean?"
Sanada frowned, face red now. He shifted, as though to rise from his seat and possibly avoid further embarrassment by busying himself with something else. It was no use, though. Kirihara knew his tricks by now.
Rising to his knees and draping himself across Sanada's lap, he grinned up at him and hooked his fingers in Sanada's belt loops. "Uh uh, senpai," he said. "I'm not letting you go anywhere."
"Akaya," Sanada warned, somehow managing to appear stern and bashful at the same time. Kirihara grinned - he loved being able to push Sanada this way. Boundaries that he would never have dared to test a few months ago.
"Genichirou," Kirihara returned, braver now.
Sanada's eyes widened in surprise; Kirihara never called him by his first name. He very nearly reprimanded him, Kirihara could see that he wanted to, but then he lay his head on Sanada's thigh and wrapped his arms around Sanada's waist.
"I wanted to call you that the other day. In the bathroom at school, remember?"
Sanada tensed, his fingers cautious against the side of Kirihara's throat. Kirihara smiled; he remembered.
It had been just after school. Sanada had agreed to lend a hand with the junior baseball team - Kirihara had been able to watch him from inside his classroom. Just outside the window, not too far away to appreciate the picture he made, Sanada had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, helping to warm up the younger boys with a few pitches. He wasn't really any good, but Kirihara hadn't cared. All he'd known was that Sanada looked twice as good going as he did coming and he'd watched the clock that afternoon like he'd never watched it before, practically squirming in his seat in anticipation. He'd forgotten his backpack beside his desk and didn't write down his homework assignment. All he'd had on his mind was Sanada and, when he'd found him in the boys' locker room, bent over the sink and splashing his face with cold water, Kirihara's hormones had gotten the better of him. One look at Sanada in the mirror above the sink - water dripping, bangs wet, lips parted - had been enough to set Kirihara off.
Into a bathroom stall they'd gone, Kirihara pushing Sanada against the wall just that much harder than he'd intended, pressing close and hands trembling when he pulled open Sanada's pants. He'd rubbed his face on Sanada's chest, muffling a groan against his sweaty shirt when he shoved both hands into Sanada's underwear. They'd kissed - awkward, biting, rushed - and Kirihara's balls had never ached the way they did when Sanada rubbed him hesitantly through his pants. He'd gone off like a rocket with one hand curled around Sanada's dick and the other snug around his balls.
But afterwards, even when neither of them could quite believe what they'd just done, Sanada had put his arms around Kirihara and held him until he stopped shaking. Kirihara had closed his eyes, ignoring the gross, sticky wetness in his underwear and concentrating on the beat of Sanada's heart.
He'd wanted to suck Sanada's cock - had been so, so horny and so curious - but hadn't quite dared. Almost four days later, the desire had not abated.
"There was something else," he said, bashful now, too. "Something else that I wanted to do. To you."
Sitting so still, with his fingertips soft along the back of Kirihara's neck, Sanada swallowed hard - Kirihara heard it.
"Senpai," he began, voice nearly a whisper when he slid one hand over Sanada's hip and toward the buttons of his pants. "Can I?"
Sanada didn't answer and Kirihara couldn't wait. Popping first one button and then another, he lifted his head to meet Sanada's dark eyes. "It'll be good, I promise."
How he could say something like that with such certainty escaped Kirihara at the moment, but he felt sure that he could do a decent enough job that Sanada would want him to do it again. If it was really good, maybe he'd even want to do it to Kirihara.
Sanada touched his face and, for a moment, Kirihara wasn't sure if he was encouraging him or about to tell him he couldn't. His gaze flickered once toward the door, but they were quite alone in the house. He had no reason to refuse and Kirihara hoped he had no real desire to do so.
"Please?" he said, earnest and excited and determined.
And then Sanada nodded once, his lips tight and his cock hard, and Kirihara waited for no further direction. The third and fourth buttons were easy to open and Kirihara bent his head to nuzzle at Sanada's underwear when he spread his pants open.
Sanada was hot against Kirihara's lips, even beneath the thin, tight fabric and Kirihara grunted when Sanada's cock jerked. No one had ever done this to him, Kirihara was willing to bet money on it, and he eased his fingertips beneath the elastic band of Sanada's underwear to trace the hard lines of his hips.
Breathing fast, even faster than Sanada, Kirihara moved to nuzzle at Sanada's balls and was only barely able to repress the sound he nearly made when Sanada gripped the back of his neck.
Glancing up, he met Sanada's eyes and didn't look away when he eased one hand into his underwear to grip him tightly.
Do it, Sanada's eyes seemed to say.
I am, Kirihara wanted to tell him, pulling back on the elastic to get at Sanada's dick.
Sanada moaned, head falling back against the chair the moment Kirihara's lips closed around him. He wasted no time, fingers snug at the base of Sanada's cock when he began to suck and lick at him, wanting to taste him, liking Sanada's heat, his solidity and soft skin against his tongue. Sanada arched his back, raised his hips and choked back a groan when Kirihara took him in as far as he could manage. Almost as quickly, he pulled back, staring up at Sanada with wide eyes.
"Sorry," Sanada said, touching Kirihara's chin, his throat. "Sorry."
Licking his lips, Kirihara stood to rub the flat of his hand over the front of his pants. "It hurts," he whined, unbuttoning his pants and tugging the zipper down. "I'm hard, senpai."
Sanada watched, seemingly unable to do anything else, as Kirihara stripped off his pants and underwear, hissing when his cock slapped against his belly. He kicked them aside, shoving his baggy shirt up when he straddled Sanada's lap. "See?" he said, stroking Sanada again as he nudged Sanada's groin with his dick. "Can I come right here, senpai? I want to come on you."
Sanada arched, turning his head and closing his eyes when Kirihara began to jerk him slow. He made low, guttural sounds in his throat and lifted his hips obligingly when Kirihara released him to shove his pants down and over his knees.
"Take 'em off," he instructed, leaning forward to grip Sanada's shoulder and kiss his mouth. His mouth was hot and Sanada parted his lips, kicking off his pants and underwear and spreading his legs as wide as the chair would allow. And then Kirihara was rubbing his dick on Sanada's thigh and reaching between them to squeeze and stroke the very tip of his erection and Sanada's restraint snapped.
His hands were big, strong against Kirihara's buttocks and he squeezed them, spread them while Kirihara rubbed against him.
"Akaya," he gasped, shifting beneath Kirihara. "Let go," he said. "Put your arms around me."
Immediately compliant, Kirihara gripped the back of Sanada's neck, kissing him again and arching up to rub his dick on Sanada's chest. He moaned, head tipped back, and Sanada slid one hand up his back to support his weight when he palmed his bottom possessively.
When he eased down again, Sanada's cock nudged the crack of his ass and he muffled a curse against Sanada's shoulder.
"Do that," he said, arching his back and pushing back just enough that Sanada thrust between his buttocks for a few perfect, blissful moments. "Harder."
Sanada wouldn't fuck him, Kirihara knew that much. It was too soon, they were too scared, it was too weird. But Sanada's dick was hard and insistent between the cheeks of Kirihara's ass as though it were a possibility.
And then Sanada wrapped big, sure fingers around his cock and Kirihara howled. "Senpai! Don't stop!"
He had a pretty good rhythm going, which was to say there was absolutely no rhythm at all - just the two of them desperate and excited and getting just as close to perfect as Kirihara imagined a guy could get. Sanada pushed Kirihara's shirt up, thin sheen of sweat visible along his hairline when he licked his lips and leaned in to kiss one pale nipple.
Kirihara's fingers tightened at Sanada's neck, his shoulders and he grunted, reaching between them to stroke his own cock when Sanada sucked first one nipple and then the other.
"Shit," Kirihara swore, too horny to be embarrassed when his nipples tightened under Sanada's tongue. It felt good; Sanada's lips were so, so hot. "Keep going," he panted, as though Sanada could stop with Kirihara squirming in his lap.
Sanada looked up at him then, catching Kirihara's right nipple between his teeth and it was as much the expression on his face as the feel of his dick pushing to gain entry that upset Kirihara's precarious balance. Sucking in a breath, gazing down at Sanada, Kirihara held himself poised - tense and straining toward release - cock jerking to spill five, six, seven times against Sanada's belly. Sanada sighed, arms too tight around Kirihara when he pressed his face against his chest and grunted his pleasure.
They were still, never eager to let go when this happened between them, and Kirihara's breath came in short, quick pants. Sanada kissed him - his chest, his collarbone, his neck - and pulled him down so that he could kiss his mouth and Kirihara was only too happy to let him. This sweetness never lasted long enough.
"That was really good," he whispered, feeling as though it would be wrong to speak too loudly after so amazing an orgasm. He lay his head on Sanada's shoulder and wondered how it might have felt to have Sanada's fingers inside him, getting him ready. "Did you…like that?"
Sanada grunted again and Kirihara smiled to realize that it was all the humor he could manage - Sanada was always such a slug after he came. "Yes," he murmured, wiping his face and pressing his mouth to Kirihara's shoulder. It wasn't a kiss, but Kirihara didn't really want it to be. He liked that Sanada was always so honest in his actions and his words. He felt comfortable with Kirihara - there was no mistaking that.
"You think you might want to…?" Kirihara trailed off, flushed from his exertions and his embarrassing words. "You know, sometime?"
For long moments, Sanada was silent and Kirihara grew anxious the farther his silence stretched. "Senpai?" Kirihara prompted, arms tightening unconsciously around Sanada's broad shoulders.
But then Sanada nodded - just once - and Kirihara expelled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He grinned, lips warm and dry against Sanada's ear and told himself that they'd get there first. Before any of their friends and most definitely before Sanada's asshole brother.
They were going to get there first. And it was going to be better than anything in the world.
It would be like winning.
"Senpai?"
"Mm?" Sanada hummed and Kirihara suspected he might fall asleep where he sat.
"Can I sleep over?" he asked. "Will it be okay?"
"Unh," Sanada grunted, rubbing Kirihara's lower back and gripping his hip possessively. "Guess so."
Kirihara grinned. "Can I call you Gen-chan?"
"No," was his immediate answer, gruff and drowsy and irritable now for all Kirihara's restless squirming.
Kirihara laughed.
Paring: Sanada/Kirihara
Rating: S for smut
Summary: Kirihara has no patience. At all.
a/n ~ Okay, so this is not heartwrenching at all, but it IS passionate. :D There were several suggestions that I will be making use of over the next couple of days. YanaYuki, AkuTaka, Pix/JJ, etc. Thanks for helping me out - I don't feel so emotionally constipated anymore. *cheers* You guys are such good eggs. Anyway, smut for joo.
hurry up and wait
Kirihara knew he was a clock-watcher, but not in the same manner that Sanada was. Kirihara was impatient; he wanted things to get moving. He didn't like spending his time on pursuits that he considered insignificant and not worthwhile. He wanted to hurry up and get there.
Sanada paced. He plodded, he planned, he considered. His every move was of strong, silent deliberation and no one - not even Yukimura - could sway him from a course he'd set. It bothered him sometimes, how Sanada could sit still for two hours and read or study or watch TV shows that made Kirihara fall asleep. It bothered him in the same way that he knew his restlessness tried Sanada's patience. He could see it in the way Sanada tensed when Kirihara fidgeted. The way his eye twitched when Kirihara asked him ten questions in the span of a minute and a half. The way he looked at Kirihara with that expression of exaggerated patience that said he was listening but was still aggravated at having been disturbed. It hurt Kirihara's feelings sometimes, to realize that Sanada couldn't humor him the way Yanagi always did, but then he would remind himself that there were lots of things that Kirihara knew (and really liked) about Sanada that he didn't know about Yanagi.
Like the way Sanada still got so worried if Yukimura showed the slightest weakness on the court and the way he always waited for Kirihara in the mornings even though he pretended to be only searching through his backpack. The way he worked Kirihara even harder on the court than he used to because know he knew that Kirihara was worth his efforts. The way he'd blush and respectfully turn his head when he caught Yanagi and Yukimura sharing a private moment and the way he sometimes let Niou and Yagyuu skip practice because he knew they did so much better all by themselves.
But there were more than just those things. Much, much more, in fact.
Glancing at the clock that hung over Sanada's bed, he paused his game and set the controller down when he turned to fix his gaze on his senpai. These days he left his X-box at Sanada's and, besides, he'd received a new Wii last Christmas that kept him busy at home.
"Senpai," he said, talking over the game's music - music that he knew he'd heard Sanada humming in the shower after practice last week - and resting his chin on the edge of Sanada's futon.
"Hm?" Sanada grunted, brows drawn as he painstakingly copied unfamiliar characters from a workbook onto a blank sheet of paper. Kirihara frowned; Sanada wasn't doing homework and so he should be paying attention to him.
"What are you doing?" Kirihara asked, craning his neck in an attempt to puzzle out what Sanada was working on. "That's not homework."
"No," Sanada said, looking up finally and blinking at the light as though he'd lost track of time and his surroundings. Quickly, he glanced over Kirihara's shoulder to the television, possibly attempting to ascertain if he'd truly turned his attention away from the game he'd been playing for over an hour. "It's going to be a tattoo. For my brother."
He didn't seem willing to elaborate and since Kirihara didn't really care in the first place, he was happy to let the matter drop. Instead, he simply looked at Sanada and wondered, as he often did, how he'd ever managed to dislike him. With his hat off and his hair hanging over his forehead, his strong jaw and dark eyes - he wasn't pretty like Yukimura but he was good-looking enough to make Kirihara completely uninterested in girls. It was still weird for Kirihara to realize that he'd rather have Sanada's arms around him than to cozy up with a girl any day, but he'd managed to get pretty well used to the idea in the few months they'd been exclusive. He laughed to himself to think about it. Exclusive. A couple. Boyfriends. It made Kirihara bashful sometimes to remember the many heated kisses and urgent touches they'd shared and if someone had told him last year that he'd ever be excited about touching Sanada's dick, he'd have punched them in the face, but one look at Sanada always helped to put things into perspective.
"Your mom'll freak," was all he said, crawling over to get a closer look. Or to get closer to Sanada - whatever.
Upside down, the letters made about as much sense as they would have had he been looking at them from the right angle and he tilted his head to study them. "Hey," he said. "This is in English! I can tell!"
Almost smiling, Sanada nodded and didn't object when Kirihara flopped down at his feet, even going so far as to spread his legs to make room for Kirihara to lean against the chair. "It is. If you'd study, you might even be able to read it."
"Che, don't start that again," he complained, taking the notebook and turning it sideways. "I mean, it looks kind of familiar, I guess."
When it became obvious that Sanada had no intention of volunteering any information, he looked up, brows drawn in concentration. "Okay, I give. What's it say?"
"A-y-a-k-o," he replied, sounding it out slowly and rousing a sort of jealousy that Kirihara didn't know he could feel. He didn't like it, some girl's name so deep and slow and sweet on his senpai's lips.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, expression accusatory. "That's my sister!"
Sanada shrugged and took the notebook from Kirihara, closing it and setting it aside. It was at that point that Kirihara really noticed the snug red muscle shirt that Sanada wore and he got that familiar, tight underwear, butterflies-in-the-tummy feeling.
"There are other girls named Ayako. It doesn't mean anything."
Kirihara frowned. He wanted to think about this a bit more: his hateful, sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued sister making it with Sanada's big, stupid brother. He wanted to get good and mad about it and possibly throw his weight around some. His sister was a bitch most of the time, but she was still his sister and it was his job to make sure no guys got into her pants.
"Senpai," he said seriously, eyes somber and dark under his mop of black curls. "If your brother is doing it with my sister, I'm going to have to kick his ass. You know that, right?"
Sanada blinked. Instead of being upset, which was what he was supposed to be, he just looked bored and unimpressed. "Why?" he asked.
"Why?" Kirihara repeated incredulously. Sanada was the epitome of honor and obligation; Kirihara couldn't imagine why in the world he didn't understand where Kirihara was coming from. "Well…because!"
"I don't think it's our right to say anything," Sanada said, giving Kirihara that look. "You and I," he continued, blushing a little and making Kirihara's heart rate pick up. "We're…you know."
You know. Kirihara grinned; Sanada still couldn't say it.
"You know? What do you mean?"
Sanada frowned, face red now. He shifted, as though to rise from his seat and possibly avoid further embarrassment by busying himself with something else. It was no use, though. Kirihara knew his tricks by now.
Rising to his knees and draping himself across Sanada's lap, he grinned up at him and hooked his fingers in Sanada's belt loops. "Uh uh, senpai," he said. "I'm not letting you go anywhere."
"Akaya," Sanada warned, somehow managing to appear stern and bashful at the same time. Kirihara grinned - he loved being able to push Sanada this way. Boundaries that he would never have dared to test a few months ago.
"Genichirou," Kirihara returned, braver now.
Sanada's eyes widened in surprise; Kirihara never called him by his first name. He very nearly reprimanded him, Kirihara could see that he wanted to, but then he lay his head on Sanada's thigh and wrapped his arms around Sanada's waist.
"I wanted to call you that the other day. In the bathroom at school, remember?"
Sanada tensed, his fingers cautious against the side of Kirihara's throat. Kirihara smiled; he remembered.
It had been just after school. Sanada had agreed to lend a hand with the junior baseball team - Kirihara had been able to watch him from inside his classroom. Just outside the window, not too far away to appreciate the picture he made, Sanada had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, helping to warm up the younger boys with a few pitches. He wasn't really any good, but Kirihara hadn't cared. All he'd known was that Sanada looked twice as good going as he did coming and he'd watched the clock that afternoon like he'd never watched it before, practically squirming in his seat in anticipation. He'd forgotten his backpack beside his desk and didn't write down his homework assignment. All he'd had on his mind was Sanada and, when he'd found him in the boys' locker room, bent over the sink and splashing his face with cold water, Kirihara's hormones had gotten the better of him. One look at Sanada in the mirror above the sink - water dripping, bangs wet, lips parted - had been enough to set Kirihara off.
Into a bathroom stall they'd gone, Kirihara pushing Sanada against the wall just that much harder than he'd intended, pressing close and hands trembling when he pulled open Sanada's pants. He'd rubbed his face on Sanada's chest, muffling a groan against his sweaty shirt when he shoved both hands into Sanada's underwear. They'd kissed - awkward, biting, rushed - and Kirihara's balls had never ached the way they did when Sanada rubbed him hesitantly through his pants. He'd gone off like a rocket with one hand curled around Sanada's dick and the other snug around his balls.
But afterwards, even when neither of them could quite believe what they'd just done, Sanada had put his arms around Kirihara and held him until he stopped shaking. Kirihara had closed his eyes, ignoring the gross, sticky wetness in his underwear and concentrating on the beat of Sanada's heart.
He'd wanted to suck Sanada's cock - had been so, so horny and so curious - but hadn't quite dared. Almost four days later, the desire had not abated.
"There was something else," he said, bashful now, too. "Something else that I wanted to do. To you."
Sitting so still, with his fingertips soft along the back of Kirihara's neck, Sanada swallowed hard - Kirihara heard it.
"Senpai," he began, voice nearly a whisper when he slid one hand over Sanada's hip and toward the buttons of his pants. "Can I?"
Sanada didn't answer and Kirihara couldn't wait. Popping first one button and then another, he lifted his head to meet Sanada's dark eyes. "It'll be good, I promise."
How he could say something like that with such certainty escaped Kirihara at the moment, but he felt sure that he could do a decent enough job that Sanada would want him to do it again. If it was really good, maybe he'd even want to do it to Kirihara.
Sanada touched his face and, for a moment, Kirihara wasn't sure if he was encouraging him or about to tell him he couldn't. His gaze flickered once toward the door, but they were quite alone in the house. He had no reason to refuse and Kirihara hoped he had no real desire to do so.
"Please?" he said, earnest and excited and determined.
And then Sanada nodded once, his lips tight and his cock hard, and Kirihara waited for no further direction. The third and fourth buttons were easy to open and Kirihara bent his head to nuzzle at Sanada's underwear when he spread his pants open.
Sanada was hot against Kirihara's lips, even beneath the thin, tight fabric and Kirihara grunted when Sanada's cock jerked. No one had ever done this to him, Kirihara was willing to bet money on it, and he eased his fingertips beneath the elastic band of Sanada's underwear to trace the hard lines of his hips.
Breathing fast, even faster than Sanada, Kirihara moved to nuzzle at Sanada's balls and was only barely able to repress the sound he nearly made when Sanada gripped the back of his neck.
Glancing up, he met Sanada's eyes and didn't look away when he eased one hand into his underwear to grip him tightly.
Do it, Sanada's eyes seemed to say.
I am, Kirihara wanted to tell him, pulling back on the elastic to get at Sanada's dick.
Sanada moaned, head falling back against the chair the moment Kirihara's lips closed around him. He wasted no time, fingers snug at the base of Sanada's cock when he began to suck and lick at him, wanting to taste him, liking Sanada's heat, his solidity and soft skin against his tongue. Sanada arched his back, raised his hips and choked back a groan when Kirihara took him in as far as he could manage. Almost as quickly, he pulled back, staring up at Sanada with wide eyes.
"Sorry," Sanada said, touching Kirihara's chin, his throat. "Sorry."
Licking his lips, Kirihara stood to rub the flat of his hand over the front of his pants. "It hurts," he whined, unbuttoning his pants and tugging the zipper down. "I'm hard, senpai."
Sanada watched, seemingly unable to do anything else, as Kirihara stripped off his pants and underwear, hissing when his cock slapped against his belly. He kicked them aside, shoving his baggy shirt up when he straddled Sanada's lap. "See?" he said, stroking Sanada again as he nudged Sanada's groin with his dick. "Can I come right here, senpai? I want to come on you."
Sanada arched, turning his head and closing his eyes when Kirihara began to jerk him slow. He made low, guttural sounds in his throat and lifted his hips obligingly when Kirihara released him to shove his pants down and over his knees.
"Take 'em off," he instructed, leaning forward to grip Sanada's shoulder and kiss his mouth. His mouth was hot and Sanada parted his lips, kicking off his pants and underwear and spreading his legs as wide as the chair would allow. And then Kirihara was rubbing his dick on Sanada's thigh and reaching between them to squeeze and stroke the very tip of his erection and Sanada's restraint snapped.
His hands were big, strong against Kirihara's buttocks and he squeezed them, spread them while Kirihara rubbed against him.
"Akaya," he gasped, shifting beneath Kirihara. "Let go," he said. "Put your arms around me."
Immediately compliant, Kirihara gripped the back of Sanada's neck, kissing him again and arching up to rub his dick on Sanada's chest. He moaned, head tipped back, and Sanada slid one hand up his back to support his weight when he palmed his bottom possessively.
When he eased down again, Sanada's cock nudged the crack of his ass and he muffled a curse against Sanada's shoulder.
"Do that," he said, arching his back and pushing back just enough that Sanada thrust between his buttocks for a few perfect, blissful moments. "Harder."
Sanada wouldn't fuck him, Kirihara knew that much. It was too soon, they were too scared, it was too weird. But Sanada's dick was hard and insistent between the cheeks of Kirihara's ass as though it were a possibility.
And then Sanada wrapped big, sure fingers around his cock and Kirihara howled. "Senpai! Don't stop!"
He had a pretty good rhythm going, which was to say there was absolutely no rhythm at all - just the two of them desperate and excited and getting just as close to perfect as Kirihara imagined a guy could get. Sanada pushed Kirihara's shirt up, thin sheen of sweat visible along his hairline when he licked his lips and leaned in to kiss one pale nipple.
Kirihara's fingers tightened at Sanada's neck, his shoulders and he grunted, reaching between them to stroke his own cock when Sanada sucked first one nipple and then the other.
"Shit," Kirihara swore, too horny to be embarrassed when his nipples tightened under Sanada's tongue. It felt good; Sanada's lips were so, so hot. "Keep going," he panted, as though Sanada could stop with Kirihara squirming in his lap.
Sanada looked up at him then, catching Kirihara's right nipple between his teeth and it was as much the expression on his face as the feel of his dick pushing to gain entry that upset Kirihara's precarious balance. Sucking in a breath, gazing down at Sanada, Kirihara held himself poised - tense and straining toward release - cock jerking to spill five, six, seven times against Sanada's belly. Sanada sighed, arms too tight around Kirihara when he pressed his face against his chest and grunted his pleasure.
They were still, never eager to let go when this happened between them, and Kirihara's breath came in short, quick pants. Sanada kissed him - his chest, his collarbone, his neck - and pulled him down so that he could kiss his mouth and Kirihara was only too happy to let him. This sweetness never lasted long enough.
"That was really good," he whispered, feeling as though it would be wrong to speak too loudly after so amazing an orgasm. He lay his head on Sanada's shoulder and wondered how it might have felt to have Sanada's fingers inside him, getting him ready. "Did you…like that?"
Sanada grunted again and Kirihara smiled to realize that it was all the humor he could manage - Sanada was always such a slug after he came. "Yes," he murmured, wiping his face and pressing his mouth to Kirihara's shoulder. It wasn't a kiss, but Kirihara didn't really want it to be. He liked that Sanada was always so honest in his actions and his words. He felt comfortable with Kirihara - there was no mistaking that.
"You think you might want to…?" Kirihara trailed off, flushed from his exertions and his embarrassing words. "You know, sometime?"
For long moments, Sanada was silent and Kirihara grew anxious the farther his silence stretched. "Senpai?" Kirihara prompted, arms tightening unconsciously around Sanada's broad shoulders.
But then Sanada nodded - just once - and Kirihara expelled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He grinned, lips warm and dry against Sanada's ear and told himself that they'd get there first. Before any of their friends and most definitely before Sanada's asshole brother.
They were going to get there first. And it was going to be better than anything in the world.
It would be like winning.
"Senpai?"
"Mm?" Sanada hummed and Kirihara suspected he might fall asleep where he sat.
"Can I sleep over?" he asked. "Will it be okay?"
"Unh," Sanada grunted, rubbing Kirihara's lower back and gripping his hip possessively. "Guess so."
Kirihara grinned. "Can I call you Gen-chan?"
"No," was his immediate answer, gruff and drowsy and irritable now for all Kirihara's restless squirming.
Kirihara laughed.