Slow Admittance [xxxHolic | Doumeki/Watanuki | NC-17]
Title: Slow Admittance
By: worblehat
Fandom: xxxHolic
Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Um...sex? I don't know how to give summaries for fics like this.
Notes: Some porn for tsundere, that pervert. Lazily self-beta'd. Ah, and there's something I denoted with an asterisk [*] that's explained at the end of the fic.
Word Count: 1,848
"Tell me when."
Their arms are parallel on the bed, Doumeki still and unmoving as he waits through Watanuki's attempts not to show how much it hurts. He can see one hand fisted in the edge of the pillow, scrunching it tightly in his hand. Doumeki doesn't say anything right then; he knows there's no way not to make it uncomfortable, so he waits, ignoring the urge to pull out a little just so he can push in again. Watanuki is always tight around him and it takes all Doumeki has not to move a single muscle.
"...Okay," says Watanuki finally, grip a little looser on the pillow. His voice is strained, but determined. "Just don't go fast like last time."
Doumeki leans forward, sliding just a little bit deeper inside as he kisses Watanuki's neck. He sucks on the skin there, knowing the way it gives Watanuki goosebumps; he sucks harder, eyes closed when Watanuki moans. He likes marking him this way, where he can't see enough to get mad but can still feel the movement of Doumeki's lips across his skin; he especially likes the way it makes Watanuki's body tense and then relax, as pleasure winds its way around the pain that dulls once Doumeki pulls back and slowly begins to move inside him.
"Dou-" gasps Watanuki as the pace increases, the mouth at his neck detaching, breathing in low against his back. Doumeki holds himself up with one hand, the other sliding against Watanuki's bare stomach, holding it possessively as he continues to drive in.
Watanuki doesn't know how he's gotten used to this what he feels like is so fast. No matter how they do it, Doumeki always seems to find a way to hold him and make him feel protected, even when it's Doumeki's mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking in and swallowing - and still holding, half-protective and half-needing. Though he doesn't like to think about it, Watanuki knows that Doumeki needs him to be there, even if he doesn't ever express it directly; the embarrassing hand around his waist when they're out or the soft blue-black marks on his neck which fit underneath the collar of his shirts all make it real that he's there.
And if he's honest, the possessiveness has grown on him a little, too. Watanuki is his own person, but he likes getting lost in Doumeki's arms from time to time: waking up to a grunted hello and a tightening of limbs around him, whether it's arms or legs or even just fingertips. He likes the hand that splays out across his stomach as Doumeki lowers his head, mostly silent but letting out a small, low moan every now and again when he pauses, burying himself deep within Watanuki and waiting a few seconds before continuing again, as if wanting to hold the moment there, the time when their bodies connect so fully.
Watanuki's moans are louder, especially when Doumeki's hand brushes against his cock, stroking unevenly until Watanuki finally pushes his hand out of the way and replaces it with his own. Doumeki's hand slides back to his stomach, pulling him up so that their bodies align more firmly, his chest sliding against Watanuki's back every now and again as he continues to thrust, sweat making the sounds wetter and the slip of skin against skin is easy and slick.
The thing Watanuki both likes and curses about Doumeki is his stamina. He doesn't have the same build as Doumeki and his arms always give out before, until his face is all but crushed in the pillow and Doumeki is still moving, supporting two instead of one on the narrow bed. Watanuki always comes first and sometimes twice if Doumeki goes for long enough. Having sex is always exhausting, but Doumeki always seems ready for it; and Watanuki finds it slowly more difficult not to give in, when Doumeki murmurs against his neck - sometimes not even words, just sounds that Watanuki finds himself somehow able to translate. Doumeki's hands are intoxicating, knowing how to slip just beneath his shirt and touch the skin there, the pads of his fingers rough but still moving soft, causing Watanuki's cheeks to heat up.
That's how he's ended up here before having a chance to make dinner, panting as his hand moves along his cock, feeling Doumeki moving inside, pushing in until he's hitting that place that makes Watanuki's knees almost give out before he's coming, spilling into his hand and partly onto the towel he's thoughtfully placed there after having to do laundry so many times. His body goes limp and Doumeki's hold is stronger, holding Watanuki firmly as he continues to pump inside of him, breaths steadily becoming more laboured.
But Watanuki hears it - the gasp that Doumeki always emits when Watanuki comes. He's only seen it a few times, when he's been tired enough not to mind doing it face-to-face - though he finds it embarrassing most of the time, even with Doumeki's eyes watching him the same way they always do. He likes the way Doumeki's eyes widen, like the feeling is always new to him; the contraction of skin around his cock momentarily stopping him, and a small shudder barely noticeable flowing through his entire body, making his stomach and chest tighten. Watanuki pictures this with a glazed-over eyes, feeling Doumeki's body continue to constantly push, push, push in.
He slides his fingers over Doumeki's hand, which is still holding his stomach; and suddenly Doumeki's thrusts grow fiercer, breath exhaled much faster against Watanuki's back. He grunts and pushes in, and Watanuki can feel the warmth filling him in uneven spurts, in and in until some of it spills out, trickling down his thighs. Doumeki is still breathing hard when his hands thread with Watanuki's and he falls partway on top of him, ignoring Watanuki's complaints but rolling them over on the bed until they're side by side, in a position Watanuki knows is called spooning but would never admit to doing with Doumeki because he's pretty sure it would make him the girl in the relationship*.
He wants to turn around and ask what happened that made Doumeki come so fast, but he doesn't know how to ask without embarrassing himself so he continues facing the wall, face red with concentration.
"Your fingers are wet," says Doumeki.
"What?" Fingers squeeze around his own and he looks down, noting the mess of white smeared across his palm and knuckles, some of it stuck messily between Doumeki's hand and his. "Well, what do you expect?" he answers defensively, glaring over his shoulder at the stoic face watching him. "That's what happens when-! ...You know."
"Hm," says Doumeki, and Watanuki can't tell if he's listening intently or about to fall asleep. He looks tired, but satiated, and also confused. "You don't usually touch my hands like that."
"Like what?" asks Watanuki, wary of what Doumeki could possibly mean.
"Wet."
Watanuki blushes again but hopes it looks like anger. "Well pardon me!" he says, annoyed. "Next time I won't touch you at all!"
Doumeki sighs and Watanuki feels his annoyance grow.
"What now?" he asks.
"Idiot," says Doumeki, leaning in to place a kiss at his temple. "I liked it."
"...What?"
"Why do you think I came so fast?"
"I...I don't know," Watanuki answers, voice growing quiet. He doesn't know how Doumeki can talk about things like this without feeling anything - any embarrassment or shame, the way Watanuki can't help feel. He likes sex but would never say it; and he sometimes envies that Doumeki can talk about it so freely, without any apparent hesitation. But maybe it's that Doumeki doesn't have the brain capacity to realise what he's saying - is what Watanuki tries to convince himself of, but knows when he looks at him that Doumeki is completely aware.
The room is quiet for several moments and Doumeki's head rests next to his, lips touching Watanuki's neck but not kissing.
"...Aren't you going to explain why?!" says Watanuki suddenly when Doumeki seems like he's asleep, or about to be.
"So loud," says Doumeki, irritated. He forcibly rolls Watanuki onto his back, still lying at his side as he looks down into the confused blue eyes. "I liked knowing you were enjoying it."
"Who said I was enjoying it, bastard?" retorts Watanuki.
Doumeki frowns, then brought their hands - still threaded together - to his lips, licking a slowly-drying patch of white. Watanuki does his best to ignore the effect that has on his groin.
"That's just-"
"I liked it," interrupts Doumeki. His face is expressionless - as usual, thought Watanuki - and his voice is the same, monotonic tone. But his eyes are intent and Watanuki can feel the honesty in those words.
So he turns away. "Moron," he says to the wall, eyes closing when Doumeki lets go of his hand, offering him the unused part of the towel that is lying partly beneath Watanuki's thigh. Watanuki utters a small "thank you," before wiping off his hand and Doumeki's, eyes closing when Doumeki draws him closer, tugging the covers over them as a second thought.
When Doumeki's breathing becomes shallower, Watanuki turns around and looks at him: the annoyingly calm face with partly-open lips and tanned skin. He hates how he feels better when Doumeki is around, and has only lately started wondering if it's not just because he tends to keep spirits away; wonders if it's normal for his pulse to race even now, when Doumeki exhales and he can feel the warm breath on his shoulder. He wonders-
"Why are you staring at me?" asks Doumeki, eyes opening to stare at him.
"Who's staring? I thought you were dead," says Watanuki. "I didn't want to sleep next to a corpse."
"Dead?"
"Because you were hardly breathing!" explains Watanuki, hoping Doumeki will believe him, even if he knows he won't.
Something that looks a little like a smirk - it's hard to tell, with Doumeki's expressions - slides easily across his lips. "You were worried?"
"Not about you!"
"Hm," says Doumeki, and now Watanuki can tell it's a smile.
"Stop grinning, you stupid idiot!"
"No."
Watanuki lets out a sound of frustration, only slightly quieted when Doumeki kisses his cheek. "I hate you."
Doumeki doesn't answer, simply wrapping himself more tightly around Watanuki before his breathing slows again and he falls asleep. Watanuki lies there with him, enjoying the soft breaths at his back and the arm that doesn't go slack, even as Doumeki drifts off and begins to snore.
Eventually he sits up, heading towards the bathroom for a quick shower before heading towards the kitchen to make dinner.
"I know the first thing that jerk is going to say when he wakes up is 'Where's the food?'" grumbles Watanuki as he's slicing onions. He looks around quickly to make sure no one is around before starting in on the eel that Doumeki not-so-subtly demanded earlier; smiling softly.
*Note: This is not how I personally feel about relationships between men, but it is how I think Watanuki would see it.
By: worblehat
Fandom: xxxHolic
Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Um...sex? I don't know how to give summaries for fics like this.
Notes: Some porn for tsundere, that pervert. Lazily self-beta'd. Ah, and there's something I denoted with an asterisk [*] that's explained at the end of the fic.
Word Count: 1,848
"Tell me when."
Their arms are parallel on the bed, Doumeki still and unmoving as he waits through Watanuki's attempts not to show how much it hurts. He can see one hand fisted in the edge of the pillow, scrunching it tightly in his hand. Doumeki doesn't say anything right then; he knows there's no way not to make it uncomfortable, so he waits, ignoring the urge to pull out a little just so he can push in again. Watanuki is always tight around him and it takes all Doumeki has not to move a single muscle.
"...Okay," says Watanuki finally, grip a little looser on the pillow. His voice is strained, but determined. "Just don't go fast like last time."
Doumeki leans forward, sliding just a little bit deeper inside as he kisses Watanuki's neck. He sucks on the skin there, knowing the way it gives Watanuki goosebumps; he sucks harder, eyes closed when Watanuki moans. He likes marking him this way, where he can't see enough to get mad but can still feel the movement of Doumeki's lips across his skin; he especially likes the way it makes Watanuki's body tense and then relax, as pleasure winds its way around the pain that dulls once Doumeki pulls back and slowly begins to move inside him.
"Dou-" gasps Watanuki as the pace increases, the mouth at his neck detaching, breathing in low against his back. Doumeki holds himself up with one hand, the other sliding against Watanuki's bare stomach, holding it possessively as he continues to drive in.
Watanuki doesn't know how he's gotten used to this what he feels like is so fast. No matter how they do it, Doumeki always seems to find a way to hold him and make him feel protected, even when it's Doumeki's mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking in and swallowing - and still holding, half-protective and half-needing. Though he doesn't like to think about it, Watanuki knows that Doumeki needs him to be there, even if he doesn't ever express it directly; the embarrassing hand around his waist when they're out or the soft blue-black marks on his neck which fit underneath the collar of his shirts all make it real that he's there.
And if he's honest, the possessiveness has grown on him a little, too. Watanuki is his own person, but he likes getting lost in Doumeki's arms from time to time: waking up to a grunted hello and a tightening of limbs around him, whether it's arms or legs or even just fingertips. He likes the hand that splays out across his stomach as Doumeki lowers his head, mostly silent but letting out a small, low moan every now and again when he pauses, burying himself deep within Watanuki and waiting a few seconds before continuing again, as if wanting to hold the moment there, the time when their bodies connect so fully.
Watanuki's moans are louder, especially when Doumeki's hand brushes against his cock, stroking unevenly until Watanuki finally pushes his hand out of the way and replaces it with his own. Doumeki's hand slides back to his stomach, pulling him up so that their bodies align more firmly, his chest sliding against Watanuki's back every now and again as he continues to thrust, sweat making the sounds wetter and the slip of skin against skin is easy and slick.
The thing Watanuki both likes and curses about Doumeki is his stamina. He doesn't have the same build as Doumeki and his arms always give out before, until his face is all but crushed in the pillow and Doumeki is still moving, supporting two instead of one on the narrow bed. Watanuki always comes first and sometimes twice if Doumeki goes for long enough. Having sex is always exhausting, but Doumeki always seems ready for it; and Watanuki finds it slowly more difficult not to give in, when Doumeki murmurs against his neck - sometimes not even words, just sounds that Watanuki finds himself somehow able to translate. Doumeki's hands are intoxicating, knowing how to slip just beneath his shirt and touch the skin there, the pads of his fingers rough but still moving soft, causing Watanuki's cheeks to heat up.
That's how he's ended up here before having a chance to make dinner, panting as his hand moves along his cock, feeling Doumeki moving inside, pushing in until he's hitting that place that makes Watanuki's knees almost give out before he's coming, spilling into his hand and partly onto the towel he's thoughtfully placed there after having to do laundry so many times. His body goes limp and Doumeki's hold is stronger, holding Watanuki firmly as he continues to pump inside of him, breaths steadily becoming more laboured.
But Watanuki hears it - the gasp that Doumeki always emits when Watanuki comes. He's only seen it a few times, when he's been tired enough not to mind doing it face-to-face - though he finds it embarrassing most of the time, even with Doumeki's eyes watching him the same way they always do. He likes the way Doumeki's eyes widen, like the feeling is always new to him; the contraction of skin around his cock momentarily stopping him, and a small shudder barely noticeable flowing through his entire body, making his stomach and chest tighten. Watanuki pictures this with a glazed-over eyes, feeling Doumeki's body continue to constantly push, push, push in.
He slides his fingers over Doumeki's hand, which is still holding his stomach; and suddenly Doumeki's thrusts grow fiercer, breath exhaled much faster against Watanuki's back. He grunts and pushes in, and Watanuki can feel the warmth filling him in uneven spurts, in and in until some of it spills out, trickling down his thighs. Doumeki is still breathing hard when his hands thread with Watanuki's and he falls partway on top of him, ignoring Watanuki's complaints but rolling them over on the bed until they're side by side, in a position Watanuki knows is called spooning but would never admit to doing with Doumeki because he's pretty sure it would make him the girl in the relationship*.
He wants to turn around and ask what happened that made Doumeki come so fast, but he doesn't know how to ask without embarrassing himself so he continues facing the wall, face red with concentration.
"Your fingers are wet," says Doumeki.
"What?" Fingers squeeze around his own and he looks down, noting the mess of white smeared across his palm and knuckles, some of it stuck messily between Doumeki's hand and his. "Well, what do you expect?" he answers defensively, glaring over his shoulder at the stoic face watching him. "That's what happens when-! ...You know."
"Hm," says Doumeki, and Watanuki can't tell if he's listening intently or about to fall asleep. He looks tired, but satiated, and also confused. "You don't usually touch my hands like that."
"Like what?" asks Watanuki, wary of what Doumeki could possibly mean.
"Wet."
Watanuki blushes again but hopes it looks like anger. "Well pardon me!" he says, annoyed. "Next time I won't touch you at all!"
Doumeki sighs and Watanuki feels his annoyance grow.
"What now?" he asks.
"Idiot," says Doumeki, leaning in to place a kiss at his temple. "I liked it."
"...What?"
"Why do you think I came so fast?"
"I...I don't know," Watanuki answers, voice growing quiet. He doesn't know how Doumeki can talk about things like this without feeling anything - any embarrassment or shame, the way Watanuki can't help feel. He likes sex but would never say it; and he sometimes envies that Doumeki can talk about it so freely, without any apparent hesitation. But maybe it's that Doumeki doesn't have the brain capacity to realise what he's saying - is what Watanuki tries to convince himself of, but knows when he looks at him that Doumeki is completely aware.
The room is quiet for several moments and Doumeki's head rests next to his, lips touching Watanuki's neck but not kissing.
"...Aren't you going to explain why?!" says Watanuki suddenly when Doumeki seems like he's asleep, or about to be.
"So loud," says Doumeki, irritated. He forcibly rolls Watanuki onto his back, still lying at his side as he looks down into the confused blue eyes. "I liked knowing you were enjoying it."
"Who said I was enjoying it, bastard?" retorts Watanuki.
Doumeki frowns, then brought their hands - still threaded together - to his lips, licking a slowly-drying patch of white. Watanuki does his best to ignore the effect that has on his groin.
"That's just-"
"I liked it," interrupts Doumeki. His face is expressionless - as usual, thought Watanuki - and his voice is the same, monotonic tone. But his eyes are intent and Watanuki can feel the honesty in those words.
So he turns away. "Moron," he says to the wall, eyes closing when Doumeki lets go of his hand, offering him the unused part of the towel that is lying partly beneath Watanuki's thigh. Watanuki utters a small "thank you," before wiping off his hand and Doumeki's, eyes closing when Doumeki draws him closer, tugging the covers over them as a second thought.
When Doumeki's breathing becomes shallower, Watanuki turns around and looks at him: the annoyingly calm face with partly-open lips and tanned skin. He hates how he feels better when Doumeki is around, and has only lately started wondering if it's not just because he tends to keep spirits away; wonders if it's normal for his pulse to race even now, when Doumeki exhales and he can feel the warm breath on his shoulder. He wonders-
"Why are you staring at me?" asks Doumeki, eyes opening to stare at him.
"Who's staring? I thought you were dead," says Watanuki. "I didn't want to sleep next to a corpse."
"Dead?"
"Because you were hardly breathing!" explains Watanuki, hoping Doumeki will believe him, even if he knows he won't.
Something that looks a little like a smirk - it's hard to tell, with Doumeki's expressions - slides easily across his lips. "You were worried?"
"Not about you!"
"Hm," says Doumeki, and now Watanuki can tell it's a smile.
"Stop grinning, you stupid idiot!"
"No."
Watanuki lets out a sound of frustration, only slightly quieted when Doumeki kisses his cheek. "I hate you."
Doumeki doesn't answer, simply wrapping himself more tightly around Watanuki before his breathing slows again and he falls asleep. Watanuki lies there with him, enjoying the soft breaths at his back and the arm that doesn't go slack, even as Doumeki drifts off and begins to snore.
Eventually he sits up, heading towards the bathroom for a quick shower before heading towards the kitchen to make dinner.
"I know the first thing that jerk is going to say when he wakes up is 'Where's the food?'" grumbles Watanuki as he's slicing onions. He looks around quickly to make sure no one is around before starting in on the eel that Doumeki not-so-subtly demanded earlier; smiling softly.
*Note: This is not how I personally feel about relationships between men, but it is how I think Watanuki would see it.