DOGS/Prince of Tennis: [ drabbles ]
Title: ...Drabbles
Fandom: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage/Prince of Tennis; Brawlverse
Characters/Pairings: Haine/Akaya, mentions of Haine/Badou
Rating: ...er. Probably R to be safe ancjjksdjkir wtffff.
Genre: Angst, fluff, etc., etc..
Word Count: ...Ha.
Notes: DON'T JUDGE ME OH MY GOD. IT WAS NAKO, SONG, AND FAE'S FAULT.
((Haine/Akaya: "I've got a secret."))
"I've got a secret," he says out of the blue, tilting his head back onto the cushion of the couch to look at Haine. Haine looks down at the boy on the floor.
"Yeah?" he asks cautiously, carefully not thinking about proximity and the distance between point a and point b.
A lopsided grin. "Yeah."
"I see." He looks away, back at the TV, back at the movie neither of them are really watching.
Akaya frowns a little, forehead wrinkling. "You don't wanna know what it is?"
Haine glances back at him. "If you want to tell me."
"I do."
"Ah."
Akaya grins. "C'mere," he says, and cups his hands around his mouth.
But Haine only raises his eyebrows. "You don't need to whisper."
The other boy pouts. "It's not a secret if you don't." He makes an impatient come here motion, and this time, with a sigh, Haine complies, leaning over and cocking his head until he can feel Akaya's breath against his cheek, the bitten lips mouthing words he can hear but isn't listening to because he's not thinking straight because -
And then a hand on one side of his face, warm, turning his head until green eyes fill his vision and bitten red lips meet his and his mind goes blank as he just.
Lets.
Go.
--
Later, when they are breathless and disheveled, Akaya looking a little dazed but absolutely satisfied with himself, Haine asks, "What was the secret?"
For a moment, Akaya just blinks at him, confused, until his lips quirk and he's grinning again.
"Didn't have one. Just wanted to kiss you."
"Ah," says Haine after a long moment, and Akaya laughs at the furious blush that creeps up the white neck, up until he's told to shut up with lips that cover his own so completely.
((Akaya/Haine/Badou: biting and smoke))
In the pitch dark, he can almost pretend that the body arching beneath him isn't Badou's. Can almost pretend that the gleam of a dazed green eye half-lidded with lust peers out of a face he's more familiar with than he'd like to admit. Can almost pretend that that eye doesn't have a partner anymore; can almost pretend that the hair on the pillow is long and red and straight, not short and dark and curly; can almost pretend that the body he thrusts into is longer and leaner and not the body of a compact athlete.
He kisses Akaya fiercely, biting his lip until there's blood, ignoring the taste in his mouth that isn't nicotine and smoke, willing him silently not to say anything because then it'll all shatter, and maybe Akaya understands, because all he does is pant and moan and clutch at Haine with fingers that ought to be longer but aren't.
So they move against each other, rhythm picking up, room pitch dark and silent but for them, until Akaya spills and sinks his teeth into Haine's shoulder to keep himself from screaming his name.
And as Haine feels the blood well and trickle from the wound, he comes, realizing all the while that he never could pretend, and feels empty.
--
He knows that it's not him that Haine's looking at. Knows that he mustn't say a word, but can't keep the incoherent sounds from escaping just a little. Knows that it isn't his body that Haine wants, knows that it's not his mouth Haine is kissing, knows that it's not him.
Knows it and still arches up into Haine with that first painful thrust, because this is Haine. And Akaya has no illusions about that, not even in the pitch dark, not even in the silence.
And so he lets Haine pretend, lets Haine silence him with teeth in his lip, lets Haine fuck him just the way he always wanted to fuck Badou. Wishes that he'd thought to have a smoke beforehand because he knows that's all that's missing, but the thought is fleeting because he's coming, and he wants to scream, and there is nothing to do but to catch Haine's shoulder with his teeth and bite down hard enough that he can taste copper and salt; hard enough that Haine gasps and lets go.
Akaya looks at the bloody crescent where his teeth broke skin, watching as it heals and disappears, and wishing that it wouldn't.
Wishing that he could just leave a mark on Haine.
((Haine/Akaya: Halloween/trick-or-treating))
"Hey, Haine?"
"Mm."
Akaya grins and shakes his pillowcase, listening to the clacking and rustling of about ten pounds' worth of Hi-Chews and Snickers, Kit-Kats and lollipops, wax lips and soda candies. "We're getting shittons of candy tonight, huh?"
Haine eyes the boy beside him, all dressed up in a ridiculous top hat and overcoat, fake (or so Haine assumes, but Akaya's surprised him before) blades strapped to his wrists, a sword hanging from his belt. Akaya claims he's dressed as Hatter Madigan ("a more badass Mad Hatter!" in his words), but in Haine's personal opinion, the kid looks like Jack the Ripper.
And with him in tow, sporting awfully realistic guns and chains, looking a bit like a disinterested but rather threatening zombie, well... it's not so much of a wonder that people - even the kids dressed as Scream and Ichi the Killer and all those horror movie villains - have been giving them a wide berth.
"...Yeah," Haine begins, thinking of all of these slightly worrying factors, but by this time, Akaya's attention span has moved on to something else, and he's grabbing Haine's hand, laughing, and pulling him over to the next house, so enthusiastic that Haine can only grin a little and follow, Akaya's hand still there, warm inside his own.
Fandom: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage/Prince of Tennis; Brawlverse
Characters/Pairings: Haine/Akaya, mentions of Haine/Badou
Rating: ...er. Probably R to be safe ancjjksdjkir wtffff.
Genre: Angst, fluff, etc., etc..
Word Count: ...Ha.
Notes: DON'T JUDGE ME OH MY GOD. IT WAS NAKO, SONG, AND FAE'S FAULT.
((Haine/Akaya: "I've got a secret."))
"I've got a secret," he says out of the blue, tilting his head back onto the cushion of the couch to look at Haine. Haine looks down at the boy on the floor.
"Yeah?" he asks cautiously, carefully not thinking about proximity and the distance between point a and point b.
A lopsided grin. "Yeah."
"I see." He looks away, back at the TV, back at the movie neither of them are really watching.
Akaya frowns a little, forehead wrinkling. "You don't wanna know what it is?"
Haine glances back at him. "If you want to tell me."
"I do."
"Ah."
Akaya grins. "C'mere," he says, and cups his hands around his mouth.
But Haine only raises his eyebrows. "You don't need to whisper."
The other boy pouts. "It's not a secret if you don't." He makes an impatient come here motion, and this time, with a sigh, Haine complies, leaning over and cocking his head until he can feel Akaya's breath against his cheek, the bitten lips mouthing words he can hear but isn't listening to because he's not thinking straight because -
And then a hand on one side of his face, warm, turning his head until green eyes fill his vision and bitten red lips meet his and his mind goes blank as he just.
Lets.
Go.
--
Later, when they are breathless and disheveled, Akaya looking a little dazed but absolutely satisfied with himself, Haine asks, "What was the secret?"
For a moment, Akaya just blinks at him, confused, until his lips quirk and he's grinning again.
"Didn't have one. Just wanted to kiss you."
"Ah," says Haine after a long moment, and Akaya laughs at the furious blush that creeps up the white neck, up until he's told to shut up with lips that cover his own so completely.
((Akaya/Haine/Badou: biting and smoke))
In the pitch dark, he can almost pretend that the body arching beneath him isn't Badou's. Can almost pretend that the gleam of a dazed green eye half-lidded with lust peers out of a face he's more familiar with than he'd like to admit. Can almost pretend that that eye doesn't have a partner anymore; can almost pretend that the hair on the pillow is long and red and straight, not short and dark and curly; can almost pretend that the body he thrusts into is longer and leaner and not the body of a compact athlete.
He kisses Akaya fiercely, biting his lip until there's blood, ignoring the taste in his mouth that isn't nicotine and smoke, willing him silently not to say anything because then it'll all shatter, and maybe Akaya understands, because all he does is pant and moan and clutch at Haine with fingers that ought to be longer but aren't.
So they move against each other, rhythm picking up, room pitch dark and silent but for them, until Akaya spills and sinks his teeth into Haine's shoulder to keep himself from screaming his name.
And as Haine feels the blood well and trickle from the wound, he comes, realizing all the while that he never could pretend, and feels empty.
--
He knows that it's not him that Haine's looking at. Knows that he mustn't say a word, but can't keep the incoherent sounds from escaping just a little. Knows that it isn't his body that Haine wants, knows that it's not his mouth Haine is kissing, knows that it's not him.
Knows it and still arches up into Haine with that first painful thrust, because this is Haine. And Akaya has no illusions about that, not even in the pitch dark, not even in the silence.
And so he lets Haine pretend, lets Haine silence him with teeth in his lip, lets Haine fuck him just the way he always wanted to fuck Badou. Wishes that he'd thought to have a smoke beforehand because he knows that's all that's missing, but the thought is fleeting because he's coming, and he wants to scream, and there is nothing to do but to catch Haine's shoulder with his teeth and bite down hard enough that he can taste copper and salt; hard enough that Haine gasps and lets go.
Akaya looks at the bloody crescent where his teeth broke skin, watching as it heals and disappears, and wishing that it wouldn't.
Wishing that he could just leave a mark on Haine.
((Haine/Akaya: Halloween/trick-or-treating))
"Hey, Haine?"
"Mm."
Akaya grins and shakes his pillowcase, listening to the clacking and rustling of about ten pounds' worth of Hi-Chews and Snickers, Kit-Kats and lollipops, wax lips and soda candies. "We're getting shittons of candy tonight, huh?"
Haine eyes the boy beside him, all dressed up in a ridiculous top hat and overcoat, fake (or so Haine assumes, but Akaya's surprised him before) blades strapped to his wrists, a sword hanging from his belt. Akaya claims he's dressed as Hatter Madigan ("a more badass Mad Hatter!" in his words), but in Haine's personal opinion, the kid looks like Jack the Ripper.
And with him in tow, sporting awfully realistic guns and chains, looking a bit like a disinterested but rather threatening zombie, well... it's not so much of a wonder that people - even the kids dressed as Scream and Ichi the Killer and all those horror movie villains - have been giving them a wide berth.
"...Yeah," Haine begins, thinking of all of these slightly worrying factors, but by this time, Akaya's attention span has moved on to something else, and he's grabbing Haine's hand, laughing, and pulling him over to the next house, so enthusiastic that Haine can only grin a little and follow, Akaya's hand still there, warm inside his own.