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Yeah, so we're all a little drunk. Omi on sugary, iced concoctions he's created in a blender; cute but psychotic laughter spilling easily from parted lips. Ken on swigs of everyone else's choice beverages; touches turning clingy and lethargic. And then there's Aya, glaring balefully, freshly emptied glass of wine before him; alternately eyeing the half-full bottle and the antics of our two inebriated teammates.
Me? I guess you could say I'm drunk on Life. Wait, that's not how it goes. Life is a cereal, not an alcoholic beverage. That joke didn't turn out so well this time. Glad I'm not in the habit of talking aloud to myself.
"Ha! Go FISH!" Omi pointes triumphantly in my direction.
"I was the one who asked for your fives," Aya blandly informs him, "and you've got two of them. You're holding your fives backwards. I can see them both."
Omi starts giggling again. "Another shot for drunken silliness. I think you're winning this game, Aya." He forgets to hand the two fives over. Actually, now that Aya mentions it, all of Omi's cards are facing the wrong way. If I'd noticed sooner I could have made a killing.
"Who's idea was this again?" Aya watches Omi gulping down some new glass of frothy pinkness for a few moments before giving in and refilling his own wineglass. If my eyesight hadn't become so blurry I'd be able to read the label and compliment him on his fine choice. Maybe I could get another cereal joke in. Or whatever.
"Do we need a new game?" I roll my own nearly empty bottle of lemon flavored vodka across the top of the coffee table, back and forth from palm to palm, soothed by the repetitive sound. I won't 'fess up and admit fault in choosing to support card games. My aim was to lead them all into a game of poker (something I excel at) and clean them out. Omi didn't know how to play poker, and ten minutes and three drinks later he was incapable of learning.
Aya arches one eyebrow, sarcasm oozing out of his pores like some exotic, sharp perfume. "Gee, who's up for a game of Twister." Head tilting to the side to match his mocking tone. He may joke, but he's probably the only one sober enough at this point to make it unscathed through anything involving balance and coordination.
"Sounds like a plan." I pretend to have missed the insincerity of his suggestion. "It's got to be Naked Twister though, it's the only game to play on a drinking night."
"Every night is Drinking Night with you," Aya bitterly informs me, pale, beautiful throat tipping back as he swallows the last few crimson drops in the vestiges of his wineglass.
"Naked Twister? I'm game." Ken grins and leans over to whisper something in Omi's ear. Ken is gifted with widened blue eyes and a blush to put Aya's hair to shame. What I wouldn't give to NEVER have to know what Ken just suggested/said.
"How does it work then, O Knowing One."
"How does what work?" My train of thought has run off its rails again, desperately trying to avoid any and all hentai thoughts even vaguely including Omi. I don't do that whole "Children-Sex" thing.
"We were discussing this "Naked Twister" of yours." Patient and condescending.
"Oh, yeah, that." Confusion as he too plays along. "Basic Twister, only every time one is the cause of the toppling people, the unbalancer has to down a glass of his choice alcohol and remove an article of clothing.
"How do you win?"
"I'm not sure. Anytime I've played before it's either wound up in a drunken blackout or a huge orgy. I'm assuming elimination would eventually determine the victor. Totalynaked equals can't playanymore." My words slur together as my attention wanders again. Aya's mouth twists downward. Ooooh, somebody is jealous. I don't know whether to be smug or frightened.
"We don't have a Twister mat." Flat, all the false joviality gone from Aya's voice. Ken and Omi watch us both with half-hearted interest while Ken tries to see how much of Omi's neck he can cover with spit and teeth marks in a most pleasant looking manner.
"WE don't, but I certainly do." I make my wobbly way upstairs to the bedroom Aya and I share, digging the brightly colored cardboard box out from under a pile of clothes in our closet. "So there, Aya." I return triumphant. Two pairs of hazy, drunkenly happy eyes ogle the game, counterbalanced by a pair of furious violet ones.
"You get opportunities like this often?" His mouth tightens further. Oooo, somebody's REALLY jealous.
A lazy shrug. "You want out? Ken and Omi are still game, right? If you want, go ahead and huff in your room." I leer at Ken, pointedly ignoring the simmering rage baking my left side. Ken grins back, not quite sure what's going on, but entertained all the same. Lucky, blissful son of a bitch.
"I get to spin first!" Omi jumps up, reeling to the side. No need to argue, eh? This should be a short game.
I like the crisp snap the plastic mat makes as I spread it out. I watch Aya's fists twitch tight from the corner of my eye. What the hell? Dense child, doesn't he recognize fun when he sees it?
"Red dot!" Beaming happily, Omi stomps down on a red dot with one bare foot. Hah, the calculating bit of my mind notes, no socks means two less losses for him. Socks count as individual articles clothing. I wiggle my happily ensconced toes. Two extras for me. I start counting socks.
"Youji, it's your turn!" Ken and Omi stand side by side, one foot on the mat, one foot off. I plink the little spinner with one finger. Blue. I circle around the entwined duo and plant one SOCKED foot down firmly on the uppermost dot. Mwahha, my game plan is flawless. I love being drunk. It makes you invincible. Now all I need is cereal.
"Youji, here's a hint. Drop the goddamned cereal topic." Ken leans over to whisper in my ear. Damn you, inner monologue! Why must you always fail me? "Aya, your turn?" I make a point to initiate eye contact. I haven't been able to get inebriated and have good, old fashioned, drunken, sexy fun for a long time. I'll feel guilty if he backs out, but that doesn't mean I'll drop out of the game. One dot into it. Can't back out now, right?
He sighs, heaves himself to his feet, drains the final few inches from his wine glass and drops it on the floor as a sign of his passive dissatisfaction. Hey, he could have thrown it at my head. I guess I'm grateful. Aya too makes his spin and comes to stand beside us in arm-crossed defiance.
"BLUE DOT!" Omi announces his next color with a vehemence I'm truly finding frightening. Ken slips a hand up the inside of Omi's thigh as the younger assassin spreads his legs to span dots. "Quit it, Ken!" Omi whines, squirming around. He could ruin round one right now.
"You're cheating." Aya reaches down and grabs Ken's arm in his evil vice-like grip. "Deliberately unbalancing someone would put the blame on you. You're only defeating yourself." He frowns at me while he lectures Ken.
"I'd be glad to peel off some of my clothes." I flick my tongue across the nape of Aya's neck as his turn comes to position a new limb next to mine. "You can knock me off balance any time." He sighs and ignores me. So far, this isn't getting fun yet. A few more minutes as we contort ourselves into bizarre and painful positions. A few falls; all of us down a few articles of clothing, mostly shirts and socks.
Ken and Omi twist together, mouths teasing bared skin, flesh rubbing against flesh. Gods, I wish I could tear out my eyes right now. No desire to see Omi writhing and gasping as he tries to keep his equilibrium underneath Ken's haphazardly balanced body. I don't care how old the kid has gotten, it's the thought that counts.
"Mmm, Ken, don't-" Trying not to arch his back as Ken hovers over his body, running a tongue across hard pink nipples, Omi... not something I want to see, give me a break kid. "You're cheating, Aya said so." Arms trembling beneath his body as he tries not to move, torso rapidly lowering as his legs strive to fold. "You're mmmnnn cheeaatttiiinnng." Omi half moans, half whines his complaint.
Aya shrugs with his one available arm, stretching to fasten his mouth to Ken's collarbone. Liquid chocolate eyes flash towards mine, startled. Aya's macking on Omi's boyfriend? Waaaiiiitttaamminute. MY boyfriend is macking on Ken. Not cool at all. I get first dibs on Ken then, right? Or something like that...
Growling down in my throat, I slowly rub my knee across the rapidly hardening bulge between Ken's legs, gratified by the sight of his teeth clenching dangerously close to one of Omi's undefended nipples. Omi turns his face and catches my parted lips in a surprise kiss.
"Whoa!" Backpedaling myself into the mat. Omi giggles, half buried under a violently writhing Aya and Ken, peeping out at me from squinted up blue eyes. "Bleagh, no children."
"You take him then." Aya pushes Ken over my way, turning and pouncing on Omi with a predatory grace that almost makes me envious.
"Mmm, hello." Ken gives me one of those dazed smiles a kiss from Aya will readily produce; I certainly know about that from experience. When his tongue makes it way into my mouth I can taste Aya on him, that masculine, forceful tang that speaks of untouchable strength and beauty enough to take your breath away. For a moment the hair tangled around my fingertips is red and smooth as silk, the half-lidded eyes a cool, aloof purple. My fingers skim down bare skin, ruining the illusion, a dusting of sun-lightened hairs where only unblemished flesh should prevail.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch Aya watching me; Omi kneeling between his legs, coerced somehow or another into donating that innocent pink mouth of his to the furthering of Aya's gratification. He gives me a smug smile, sprawled across the crumpled twister mat, making sure I know he's having a perfectly fine time without me.
"Ow!" Ken nips my shoulder.
"You fell over, off with the shirt."
"What?"
"Fair is fair. He who unbalances Twister must strip and drink." He runs warm hands up underneath my shirt, soothing, circling palms. "Need help with the buttons?" Gods, what a turn on. I love teeth unbuttoners, veerryy sexy. He gives up on the last plastic disk, simply biting through the threads with a snapping sound that shoots straight to my groin. Did I mention that was a major turn on?
Now Aya's the one glaring over my way. My lower lip somehow winds up caught between both of Ken's, wet and hot beyond belief, exactly as sex should be, the contrast of teeth a perfect enhancement. On to the familiar dance of rock hard erections trapped behind rough denim, the pain and pleasure a maddening combination. His sturdy, calloused hands fumble with my pants.
"Uh-uh, teeth. Nnn, I like that." Nudging his head downwards. Hell, he doesn't even need to stick around after the display I receive, I could just jerk off to that image forever. Goddamn, I need to get him to give Aya a lesson or two; that mouth! Uh-oh, Aya's tight eyes, glaring serrated knives at me from a few feet away, softening to a placid plum as he tilts Omi's face towards his. Ken doesn't notice. I guess it's only a power play between Aya and I. Nothing like a good old-fashioned relationship based on rivalry.
Ken nudges my legs apart, settling back down against my body. "You think you get to be on top? Just because you're banging a kid? I don't think so!" Some erotic wiggling, a hell of a lot of panting and moaning, but eventually I wind up straddling his lap. He probably let me win. He traces his thumbs over my cheekbones, tangling his fingers in my loose hair as he pulls my head back, mouthing the curve of my neck, abdominal muscles flexing beneath my palms as he stretches upwards.
"Beverage of choice?" He mouths against the column of my throat.
"Mmmm?" Shifting my hips for maximum friction.
"You lost the shirt, now you need the drink. Twister rules." I'm not sure how he's able to perpetuate this line of coherent thought with the formidable hard on he's harboring.
"Maybe if you let me lap it up off your chest?" Tweaking one dark nipple as I talk. He smiles, one of the sexy ones where you bite down on your lower lip. Green light; both of us sort of writhing back towards the low coffee table, getting rug burns all the way, unwilling to break contact long enough to cover ground the easy way.
I grab the first solid bottle my hand comes in contact with, sloshing some down my hand and wrist in the process. For a minute I mistake the wine for blood, thinking I've cut my arm. You get used to that in my profession. Ken pokes the tip of his tongue out, running it over his bottom lip before running it up my elbow, catching the rivulet trying to stain the carpet, taking the wine bottle from my lax grip, turning that wet mouth of his towards my crimson fingers.
"Can I swap my old boyfriend out for you?" My low laugh catches in my throat as he sucks in more of my index finger, making me wonder what else that mouth is good at; buttons, and now this.
"I'll think about it." Idly swirling a finger in Aya's now refilled glass, flicking a few drops across his chest. "Oops, messy me." Eyes crinkling up.
We manage to empty an inch or two of wine this way, exchanging a lot of sloppy kisses along the way. The witty, half-drunken banter trails off as hands move lower, mine instinctively seeking the heat of skin, slipping into his boxers. He sucks in a shaky breath a my hand circles his erection, fighting the restriction of denim in my useless drunken fashion. We obviously weren't playing long enough to have lost the requisite amount of clothes.
"I am far too drunk to get you out of these pants myself." I inform him, bumping noses with him as I lean down to steal another kiss, sweat damp hair falling into my eyes, brushing his cheeks. It's hard to stop kissing, even as we both shift our hips, trying to peel down worn blue denim without breaking contact. I could get used to this, the golden tan skin, streamlined strength, calluses and freckles. He's the anti-thesis to Aya, exotic in his everyday sort of way.
There is no thought in my mind now: about what Aya is doing right now, how bizarre this is going to be in the morning when we're all sober and hung-over, about the fact that Ken and Omi have enough problems with each other without my interfering and screwing things up a little bit more between the two of them. We're down to nothing but skin now, cocks rubbing together as we try desperately to engage in the longest kiss known to man, tongues and lips slick and welcoming.
"Nn, 'f we don't stop soon..." I trail off, hips still jerking without my consent, addicted to the pleasure.
"Yeah." Breathless agreement from Ken before he catches my lower lip between his, blunt fingers digging into my shoulders for a bit more leverage. If this doesn't phase him, I won't worry about it. My shaky limbs tell me I'm far too drunk to get any further than this anyway, forearms threatening to give out until I give in and lower my upper body down onto my elbows, clunking my forehead against Ken's.
Silence, the occasional moan muffled against the slickness of mouths, against the sweat beaded skin of shoulders. He shudders beneath me, head lashing back as his cock spasms against mine, sudden wetness slicking both our stomachs. My lips are drawn to the corded muscles of his neck. I finish with a gasp against his hip, biting into the flesh of his upper arms with my clenched hands, unable to help myself.
"Uhn. Gods." I laugh weakly against the side of his sticky neck, rolling over until I'm no longer pressing him into the rough fibers of the carpet. The viscous liquid splattered across my abdomen begins to chill almost immediately. I consider jumping up and making a dash for the shower. Too much effort, and the possibility that I might immediately fall back onto my bare ass is a little too important to entirely disregard.
Falling asleep naked on the floor. That's something I could handle. Soft sounds behind me, little hitched breaths and the slide of skin on skin. Dazed still from the rush of orgasm, I twist my neck, continually deteriorating eyesight trying to pick out the source of unexpected noises. Soft lights playing across a lovely tableau of muscles and skin, gleaming with sweat not entirely caused by too much to drink.
Omi straddles Aya's hips, head falling back against Aya's supporting hand as they move together, those pale pink lips parted as he makes these tiny, shuddery sounds. It's hard not to watch, even if it is Omi. I suppose if you have enough to drink, eventually everything falls below the inhibition radar, and everyone rises up into the realms of desirable. Omi lolls against Aya's supporting arms, well and truly smashed, body limp and relaxed against the shallow thrusts of Aya's hips. I see the torn package of a condom a few feet away and absently wonder who came prepared, neither option is particularly heartening.
Even as I watch, it's coming to an end, literally, if you want to be perverted with the innuendos like that. Erotic fascination as Aya's pale face tilts downwards to mesh mouths with Omi, threading equally white fingers through golden strands of hair, and at this angle I can even see as the column of his latex encased erection slides in and out. It's enough to make me lament my lack of energy, to want to cross the distance and be a part of it all.
Ken has no such inhibitions, and twists Omi's face towards his own, tracing a tongue across that temptingly open mouth. Enough to make my own hand return to the junction of my thighs, not as tired as I'd suspected. Two sets of hands hold him steady as his back arches, mouth too muffled for the sounds to escape as he alternately tries to meet Aya?' thrusts and rock into the tanned, sure hand around his own erection.
Sprawled across the carpet, pushing up into my own hand, this is definitely better than pornography. Perhaps I ought to encourage more drunkenness as a whole, I can't say as we'd be the worse off for it.
"Uhn, Aya, don?t stop." Ken finally let's up for a quick air break and Omi takes advantage of his newly freed vocal cords.
"Wasn?t planning on it." He mouths the soft curve of Omi's neck, growling low in his throat as Omi does something assumedly pleasant around him, shuddering with the first rush of release. The growl deepens as nails rake red lines down the colorless perfection of his back.
"Ohhh." A soft, breathless exclamation as they both still, Omi?s face pressed against Aya's shoulder. His fingers gave a few last weak twitches against the sweat flesh beneath them as the last of aftershocks ran through his body.
"You okay?" A tender moment as Aya brushes the hair away from his face, a soft kiss brushed across his forehead. Momentary envy. He doesn?t do things like that for me. I don't ask for that though, so I can't say anything, can I? They pull apart with mutual winces and Omi sags back into Ken's waiting arms.
"Mm dizzy." He nuzzles closer, sleepy like a little kid. Ech! Back to the bad thoughts again. Aya falls back on his elbows, breathing unsteady as he tries to recapture that calm he always emanates.
I consider moving closer, abandon the notion. I'm comfortable as I am, sleepy, and only aroused enough for it to be a pleasant want instead of a desperate need. Beside him, Ken helps an unsteady Omi to his feet, leading him upstairs towards bed, a place to lay his reeling head down, and boy is he reeling. With all he'd had to drink I'm surprised he held out this long.
I watch in the new silence of the room as Aya finally pushes himself back into a sitting position, peeling off the used condom with a slight grimace of distaste, and then surprise as he catches me starting. He almost smiles, a taunting, superior little twitch of his lips. He won then, getting the most out of the experience. I couldn't care by this point.
"I'm going up for a shower." I use the coffee table as a brace, deciding to finally end the drunken fun of the evening and get ready for bed myself. None of the staying power of youth. The semen liberally splattered across my abdomen is starting to grate on me. I can't begin to say enough for the pleasure of cleanliness.
A moment of trepidation as the loud rattle of pipes kicks in with the hot water before I remember the state of utter inebriation the rest of the household shares and figure I could safely make ten times the amount of sound. I try to be quiet, I really do, but you know how it is, when the world won't quite stand still, and any muted action is an almost cartoonish parody of subtly. I surprise myself by managing not to pantomime sneaking as I pace back and forth across the bathroom tiles, trying to find my shampoo and soap, and then back again as I remember I need a towel.
Hot water. Nothing could ever overwhelm the bliss of a hot shower. If I didn't have to make a living somehow, I'd just stand here day and night, basking in the complete and utter comfort. Hedonistic? Yes. Ashamed? You bet your ass I'm not. The air temperature makes a drop for the worse as someone opens the door, letting out my lovely, lovely steam.
"Are you going to be done soon?" Aya's flat questioning grates on my nerves.
"Nope!" I cheerfully sing back, forgetting my momentary promise to keep it down in consideration of the late hour.
"Perhaps before we entirely run out of hot water." Terse and angry all of a sudden.
"Gods, Aya. Chill out. I'm perfectly willing to share." Baiting him on purpose. I figured he'd be in a foul mood later, but thought the world at large could hold him at bay for longer than twenty minutes. I know he doesn't like drinking, that's probably why I goaded him into doing so to begin with. Sometimes it's good for him to loose control, to have to feel the way the rest of the world does around him, unbalanced.
I can hear him slamming things around, and then the slither of fabric. Well, he can't be too mad, if he's taking me up on it. Unless he's going to bodily throw me out of the shower. Won't that be fun? I've never actually managed to concuss myself on a wet bathtub before. Always room for a first time.
"Move over." Grunted as he pushes me out of the spray. He sighs as he tilts his head back into the hot water, turning after a moment to slick hands down his stomach. Son of a bitch.
"You're doing this on purpose." I accuse, pointing like an idiot as I shiver, away from my lovely, munificent warm water. He glares over his shoulder, giving me that 'shut up, now' look he's got down to an art.
"That's MY warm water." Another point in my favor.
"Be quiet, you're too loud. It's late and people are trying to sleep." Scorn! Now he's throwing scorn at me. I am way to sloshed to accept such an umbrage against my person. His head cracks against the tile behind him as I push him against the wall and plaster him with a messy kiss. I'm drunk, what did you expect me to do?
He fights for a second, reflexive reaction to the perceived attack, before his hands relax their death grip on my arms and slide up around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I slide my tongue along his lower lip until he opens his mouth and lets me in. Aya still tastes of the red wine he'd been drinking, rich and warm.
I move to slide a leg between his, forcing my current advantage, and my foot slides on the slick porcelain of our old tub. Again with the bathroom concussion threats, I'm not liking this. My head will hurt enough on its own, come morning.
"What's say we go have drunken sex in the bedroom and then if we're still conscious try the shower again?" I slide a hand down his stomach, doing my mindless best to look appealing and tempting while I grip the slick skin of his partially erect member in my hand. The hand wins every time. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as his hips angle towards me. He looks up again, reaching behind him to hit the faucet, halting the flow of water over us.
"Okay." Breathlessly. I like this, the way my hands on his body can make him react certain ways, how I can almost control him for a short while. It's not about dominating someone; it's about Aya, and the way he never lets anyone in, the way he won't listen to anything most of the time, the way he turns away from human contact like it carries the plague. Sometimes it's nice to be the exception. It's even worth the verbal abuse when he's having a good day.
More rubbing and kissing as we try to dry off and not tip over all at the same time, tangled up in an oversized towel. Gods, but I LOVE being drunk.
"I don't." Aya grouses as I give up getting us dry and drop the towel, cupping his face for more kissing. Kissing is nice, yes indeed. Especially when things are slow and careful, the slick insides of mouths and the rough velvet of tongues. Especially when his mouth starts to trail down my chest, a brief warmth across nipples before he continues lower.
"Mm. Please?" I comb my fingers through the damp tangles of his hair, wanting to force his head lower, unwilling to really get him angry. Aya can be a mean inebriate when you get on his bad side. He shakes his head, twisting a little bit against the hand pressing his skull.
"Someone could walk in." That old wariness, embarrassed that someone would see him doing something like this, with someone like me.
"Didn?t you just fuck the kid?" I sigh and let him go anyway, knowing I'll lose in the end. Sometimes there's no use toting out the logic to smack Aya in the face with, it's too much arguing with too little reward.
"Bedroom?" Urging for more.
"Mm-hm." A decisive grunt this time, as he uses my hipbone as a brace, wavering once he's on his feet again, leaning against my chest. He frowns, not liking the lack of coordination, the disadvantage he imagines I have him at. Letting him think he's leading the way, I help him down the hall to the room we share, tumbling him down onto the bed as the door swings shut in our wake. The click of the latch is my signal to pull out all the stops.
Nothing but skin on skin, the only sensation I know of that actually surpasses the indulgent joys of a hot shower. More soft kisses, until my lips feel raw and I want nothing more than the opportunity to crawl down inside his mouth and wallow in the delectable heat. I want that mouth all over my body, warm and languid. We have all the time in the world, he and I. It doesn't matter that outside my window the night is shedding its last swathes of darkness, that the rest of the world is waking up while we try to devour one another beneath of pile of tangled sheets and blankets.
"Please, Aya, please?" Because I can do a lot of things, but giving up easily isn't one of those. He sighs and acquiesces with the intent of peace in mind, trailing down the line of my stomach. Bated breath as he shapes his fingers around me, lips parted to admit me to the closes simulacrum to the welcome of heaven I'll ever be graced with. "Uhm, like that." Encouraging as best I'm able with only a small fraction of my mind functional.
Mind blowing, the beauty in the lines of his body, the skills he's acquired, the willingness to please once the requisite struggle is dealt with. I lied, it's always worth the trouble, what ever daylight problems of his I have to cope with, he's always worth it. Just a hint of teeth, before the soothing pressure of his tongue follows in its wake, making my hands fist in the sheets while he forcibly holds my hips down.
There's so much familiarity, a reflexive seeking of pleasure points, a habit of prolonged exposure. I watch from beneath lowered lashes as he sprawls across my legs, mouth sealed around the head of my phallus as one hand grasps the last inches he can't or won't take into his throat.
"Stop, wait." I catch his chin with my hand when he starts to sit up, irked. "Too close." Dizzy from a lack of blood flow to my more useful head.
"Isn't that the point?: Quizzical heliotrope eyes, fuzzy and compliant. I shake my head in response, caught up in a sudden rush of affection, pulling him closer to trace the arch of elegant cheekbones with my lips.
"Beautiful." And for once he doesn't argue, relaxed and bereft of defenses. He smiles, all flushed cheeks and elegant, narrowed eyes, before my hands slide down the curve of his spine, cupping his muscled rear to pull his hips just so against mine, forgetting the reason I'd asked him to halt to begin with. Lust and liquor tend to cloud the best judgments.
"Do you want to-?" Trailed off against my clavicle and he straddles my lap, rocking me back into the headboard. Something just a hair away from submissive flashing I the depth of his eyes, and I know what he's hinting at, unwilling even now to say it out loud. I nod, voice catching in my throat, leaning past the weight of his body to shuffle through the contents of the end stand next to the bed, fingers finding the right shapes even though my eyes aren't so hot for up close work right now.
He follows my hands with his eyes, oddly eager. I definitely could get used to him like this, panting for breath and willing for whatever I want as long as it feels good. He tenses for a moment, as I start to rub at his tight opening, waiting for muscles to relax and for the liquid gel to reach a decent body temperature. One finger inside, and he's not complaining, eyes mere slits, forehead pressed against mine, so close my eyes can't discern details.
A slow careful breath shudders out of him as a second slides in with the benefit of more lubrication, pupils dilating as I brush his prostate. Reflexively he clamps tight around me, a barely controlled shiver running down his spine to match the gasp from his lips. There's no question about his enjoyment if the barely controlled motion against my hand any indication. I distract him with a clashing of tongues, adding a third finger as he loses his concentration.
"Uhn!" Not a bad sound at all, something guttural drawn out by unexpected pleasure. He's panting words against my shoulder with every breath, but I can't understand him. I doubt that I'm meant to. Imagine the indignity.
"You ready?" Because I certainly am, have been for some time now. He's gorgeous when he's writhing on top of me, hair mussed by my hand and chest heaving from my touch, but I can only feast of visuals for so long. His forehead shifts against my skin as he nods sort of helplessly, anything to keep me going. I really do love this power rush, because it's Aya the Untouchable. I reclaim both my hands, pleased by Aya's small sounds of disappointment.
Anticipatory, the very air around us, as I tear open the foil package and then roll the latex down over my erection, adding more lubricant.
"How?" I recapture Aya's attention, not so sure I'm even following my own line of thought by this point.
"However." His hand joins mine, smoothing slick liquid down my length. I let my neck relax for a moment, the back of my skull clunking against the headboard as I try not to forget about a lot of things with my brain fogged as it is.
"Turn around." I trail kisses across the back of his shoulders as he complies, easing his hips back until he's just right, poised for entrance. I gently pull him back, slowly sliding into tight heat, always surprised by how good it feels. He moans something low in his throat, unsteady, off balance, but still at ease. The relaxation of alcohol and a hot shower.
His back rests against my chest as I pause, waiting for him to adjust and give the okay, trying to mask my heavy breathing against his neck, but he can surely feel my heart pounding against his spine, so fast my head throbs. He moves impatiently after a moment, shifting around me. Indescribable, and we haven't even really started yet. I catch his hips, slowly pushing him up as I shift down, finishing the motion by pulling him back, sinking into perfect heat again.
He takes over, maddened by my sluggish pacing. He uses my thighs as leverage, awkward, but wonderful friction-wise, the muscles across his back sliding and bunching as he rocks around me. Wonderful, but it's just not enough, I can tell that even as his hands creep between his own legs, adding to his stimulation. I tumble him forward, still not breaking contact. His arms fly up, startled, to brace himself as I take him from behind, hips pulsing forward into his body as I try for that ultimate angle. Once I've got it, he's mine to do whatever I please with.
"Uhn, Youji! Ah!" My name barely strangled out as intelligible as I successfully rub across his prostate in passing. He tightens around me, back arching. When his brain resumes functioning, he pounds back against my every thrust, almost whimpering when I hit dead on.
The minutes speed by now, not counted and catalogued, missed as we rock together, as my hands bite into his pale hips, as his head falls forward and he spreads his legs wider, gasping for more, wanting it faster. My stamina is shot to hell, and I'm beyond relieved when I feel him start to tense beneath me, little internal shivers taking him. I'm so close to the edge, a breath away. I close my eyes against the sweat slicked back of his neck, blindly thrusting into the shudders of his climax, my entire body focusing towards that one moment. Open mouthed panting as I plummet down into the depth of pleasure, muscles jerking out of control, mind lifted away on a cloud of bliss.
"Crushing me." Aya finally pushes me off of him, tousled, ruffled and not really minding. I shift until I'm lying warm and sated against his side, both of us sticky and tired.
"Hm, sorry." I nuzzle his ear, eyes still sagging shut. "Do you want-" I lose what remains of my concentration, lethargy taking over.
"What?" He looks equally exhausted when I open my eyes again, relaxed jaw the ultimate sign of released tensions. I shake my head, tickling his neck with stray wisps of my hair, falling into the dark of his dilated pupils. I doubt he can see too clearly at this moment.
"I don?t know. I've forgotten." I mouth the curve of his neck, tasting salt, trail my tongue up into his ear, just to watch him squirm.
"Stop that." He swats at me, gentle chastisement. After a moment he goes limp against me again, eyelashes a dark shadow across his cheekbones. I'm still trying to remember something about a shower when I fall asleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"What was that?" Omi bolts upright, eyes wide, tangled in blankets. He regrets it almost immediately. Commotion or no, his head and stomach feel abominable. He sags back down next to Ken, covering his eyes against the bright sun from their window.
"Just Aya yelling." Ken places a gentle hand on top of Omi's mussed hair. "He's been at it for a while now."
"Do you think you could send him my way and convince him to kill me?" Omi moaned back. "I'm never drinking again."
"That seems to be the gist of Aya?s rant from what I could understand." Ken laughed good naturedly, a tad better at dealing with alcohol than some. "I hope Youji had enough fun to make it worth it."
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Yay! I'm finally done writing! Now, you must to give me nice e-mails, or I shall smite you all where you stand!!!!! -fang-toothed goddess of smiting pose- Do let me know though, if you thought it was passable or not! I shall be very sad if you don't. Ooo -laughs- Quick side note to all the children out there. "Unprotected sex is bad! It gives you STDs and uhm.. Other Crap. And bad urethral infections if you're humping bums!!!" -public duty is fulfilled- Well, now that I've put you all off your lunches!. Okay, E-mail me now!!!!! NOW!!!!!!!! -thrashes- [email protected] or [email protected] Or the smiting shalllll beeegiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnn waaaahhhhhhhhh