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tenipuri_xpDate: backdated sometime early February
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kirihara randomly showed up at Yamato's door to watch a movie. That was how it started, anyway. I... have no excuse for how it went from there.
It might seem ridiculous, but Akaya found himself again in font of Yamato's door. Though this time with a reason… not like previous times he didn't have one. This time he wanted to spend some time together, apart from training. Sister sent him some DVDs few days ago, so yeah… he thought it would be something nice. Definitely. And the man surely wouldn't mind. Or so Kirihara thought.
…
Well, he didn't mind the last time the boy showed up randomly. Akaya stood there for good 5 minutes before he finally decided to knock, slight blush covering his cheeks.
With a laundry basket in his hands, and an artificially calm kitten snuggled in to the heap of warm, fresh-from-the-dryer clothing, Yamato made his way down the hall back to his room. He could not be bothered to fold clothing until he could set the clothing out on his bed, as it was a pain in the butt to try to keep Luis from playing with dryer sheets and stray socks... or whatever else she could get her little paws on. He was relieved, for this fact, to notice someone near his door -- someone that could probably help him with the door... and a few steps later, with a twitch of his lips, he was able to positively identify Akaya.
The slight boy reached up a hand, knocking on the door, just before Yamato could say something to stop him. With a chuckle, the man called out, "Akaya," gaining the attention of the boy with a mess of black curls. "Could you help me with the door?"
The boy was slightly startled to hear Yamato from well… outside of the room. But right, the door, as apparently the man had his hands occupied. It was probably locked, "Where do you have the keys?" Even though Kirihara asked that, he also put his hand on the knob, trying it… just as he thought, locked. And where did guys keep keys? In their pockets… Hopefully the man was not like most of the guys out there.
Unaware of the boy's thoughts, Yamato was also unaware of the horror he could unintentionally provoke as he explained, "In my right, front pocket." He shifted the basket a bit in his arms, tilting his head to the side a notch. "If you don't want to go feeling around in my pants, you'll need to hold the basket so I can reach them." A smirk coloring his face, the man added, "Of course, if you do have the urge to feel around in my pants, it's not like I'm going to stop you." He could see from Luis' eyes that the younger mutant was already blushing... it made Yamato wonder why the boy was at his door at all.
Akaya glared halfheartedly, but he was no coward and it wasn't such a big deal, right? Right. Stalking up to the older man, he looked around. Better not have anyone see them like that, as innocent as it all was, it could be taken wrongly. Just like that time when Osakada walked in after they tripped. She was still giving him weird looks, especially during training when they still were in one training team. Thank God she was now in another.
He bit his lip gently, so it wouldn't be seen, as his hand slid into the other's pocket. Luckily for Kirihara, he could feel the keys quite quickly and he pulled his hand away. Opening the door was now a matter of seconds, and so the boy stood, waiting for Yamato to enter.
Shifting the laundry basket once more, Yamato leaned close to Kirihara, forcing the boy’s back against the door, and whispered against the curve of his ear, barely more than a heavy breath against pale flesh, “Akaya, you pervert.” He touched a light kiss against the boy’s cheek, moving past him to settle the laundry basket at the foot of the bed, Luis contentedly curling in the warm clothing, purring away happily, unaware of the mischief her owner was causing.
Curiously, the man inquired, “Why’d you come by?” As though Kirihara needed a reason – it was just as much his room as it was Yamato’s, as far as the instructor was concerned. Were it not for the fundamental issues with their relationship, he would have even asked the younger mutant long ago if he would prefer to room together. But, even the weekend they spent together after the incident had been extremely risky; no need to flaunt what already should not have been happening.
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" The 17-year-old growled out. He was a pervert?! Like hell, it wasn't him who seduced younger boys, duh. Not like any of these thoughts were serious. It was Yamato's own damn fault he carried the keys in his pockets. The next question though, reminded him why he was here in the first place. The annoyance disappearing in an instant.
But first… "Do I even need a reason?" Akaya smirked, but after a moment he added, "Thought we could er… watch a movie together. Sister sent me some DVDs." This time he didn't blush, finally convincing himself it was a normal thing.
“Of course not,” responded Yamato to the first question, stepping past the boy again to take the key out of the knob and close the door, setting the key down on the corner of his dresser; the blind had to form habits, if they were to always know where everything was, and that just so happened to be his habit with the key to his room… while it helped to have his mutation, in particular when Luis was around, he still did not quite operate normally when it came to all aspects of his life, though it would appear otherwise from the outside.
To the suggestion, Yamato replied, “Nice of Asuka-san to send you movies from home.” He plucked his feline companion from the basket, setting her on the bed (though she made a beeline for Akaya, instead), and lifted the clothes up out of the basket, settling with them on the bed to begin folding. This, he could do blindly, just fine. “If you don’t mind that I need to fold some laundry, then I think that sounds like a great idea.” He seemed to remember a Kirihara Akaya of the past that was hard to coerce into sitting still for the duration of a movie; perhaps it was just the genre at the time… or perhaps there had been a change either in the boy or in his bond with his instructor.
Briefly, the thought that Yamato had very nearly ruined all of that with his powers crossed the man’s mind… he was a dangerous creature, and he was not about to forget that, though he was happy to pretend he did not even give it a second thought – for Akaya’s sake. They would talk about it eventually – probably when both of them were ready to address such things. Training sessions with Yamato’s group of students had become almost too formal between the two of them, lacking even the warmth Yamato had gained before they were ever together… maybe Akaya was just as unwilling to bring it up as Yamato himself.
There was nothing more to be said about the incident, or so Akaya thought. He would get over it eventually, after the scars on his arm faded (though they wouldn't disappear completely). There was no need for bandages anymore, but he still wore long sleeved shirts, even inside. This time a dark red wine, nicely complimenting his eyes. Smiling, he said, "She just doesn't want me to blast anything out of boredom." Movies weren't much help, as he had problems with sitting in one place for that long, but what he said once was true. The man really made him calmer, somehow. Well, to the extent that he could sit still for a bit longer.
Luis was now rubbing against his ankles, demanding attention. As if she hadn't seen Kirihara for months. With a chuckle he picked her up from the floor, putting the movie, that he held in the other hand all the time, on the desk, on his way to the bed. When his back connected with the bed's sheets, he let out a sigh. Damn, this bed was so much more comfortable than his own. The kitten slid from the boy's chest to curl up against his neck, like she used in the med lab. "That's fine." He would ask if Yamato didn't need any help, but laundry was something that should be done by the owner.
Moving on autopilot, the older man’s hands found the seams of the clothing so he could judge their size and shape, folding each one appropriately and neatly with years of experience evident in his technique – while folding clothes was not exactly any sort of feat of power for anyone else, there had been any amazing moment in Yamato’s life the first time he folded a shirt properly without any outside help; like everything else he could do without the aide of at least Luis, it was just a different sort of learning curve. The first time he cooked a full meal by himself, though carefully monitored by his mother, the whole family had, ironically, gone out to celebrate. The Yamato family was just full of quirks like that.
“You know,” began the man, fingers tracing over the seams of what felt like a pair of slacks, finding the zipper to confirm that fact. “I’d like it if you met my family, sometime.” More accurately, Yamato would like it if his parents were to meet Akaya… at least his mother, anyway. He knew that it would keep her quiet for a bit if she saw her son happily in a relationship. Or, inversely, he could completely backfire on him and she could start setting him up with “nice girls,” again.
Akaya was lying comfortably on the bed until the question was posed. He froze. Huh?
…
"I'm not cross-dressing for that." He deadpanned. The whole idea was completely crazy, but like he always said, one could never be sure about anything with Yamato.
Tossing the boy a strange look, Yamato’s lips turned down into an almost-frown. “Who said anything about cross dressing?” He reached over, patting the first convenient place he could find on Kirihara blindly (which just so happened to be his stomach), and shook his head. “If I wanted a girlfriend, don’t you think I would have left you long ago?” The easy smile returned to his face and he moved on to another shirt, dexterous fingers working swiftly enough that he would be done in a manner of a couple minutes.
Then again, at this point, it was no longer about gender or physical attraction; Yamato was entirely willing to nod his head to that fact. He should have known, from Luis alone, that this was going to happen – the intuition of animals was uncanny. At the moment, the cat had contentedly curled herself against Kirihara’s neck, with no sign of moving any time soon, unless she was forced to… oddly, the feeling echoed itself in Yamato’s chest, and he paused, mid-fold.
One hand went to his face, taking off his sunglasses; the half-folded shirt dropping in his lap. It was not romantic; it was not even a good time, but it was what was on Yamato’s mind, and had been since the incident. Turning his head to Kirihara, the man’s smile softened very slightly. “Akaya, I love you.”
…And for the second time that day Kirihara froze. His mind turning blank as he stared dumbly into the other's eyes. Love? How Akaya hated big words and feelings. Though… big words especially. "Don't joke about something like that." He said finally, sitting up. Luis wasn't pleased with that, but… at the moment there were more important things to clear.
Akaya never had any experience with love, he didn't know exactly what it was yet, did he really though? Fooling around, crushes, sure… it might be from the almost female-only environment he grew up in (his father rarely being home), he thought that love was just a stupid word… but what stood behind it was nowhere near stupid, if it was honest. And most definitely shouldn’t be taken lightly. But was it honest? "Please, just… don't joke about something like that." Again, the same plea. It hurt, it was scary… confusing, and he was overreacting? Probably. But he really disliked talking about feelings. And even if Yamato was honest about what he said, did he expect an answer? Then he would get no answer, because the boy didn't know it. Or rather… he preferred to act rather than speak. This way he didn't have to name anything. It was easier. Much easier.
His mind was one big mess now, as he stared down at his fists in his lap.
…Why would Yamato joke about something like that? Well, that didn’t work at all. Edging to the side, the man reached out a hand, fumbling for Akaya’s, prying open clenched fingers and clasping one stiff hand. “It’s not like I expect you to feel the same, but if you didn’t know…” There would be regrets; Yamato was a man jam-packed full of regrets, despite his easygoing exterior. Leaving the previous statement to dangle, the man murmured, “Of course I’m not joking.” But, as always, he knew the other mutant was a boy of action – words were either meaningless to him or simply harder to comprehend; Yamato would probably never know which it was.
That thought in mind, Yamato closed the distance between them, placing a gentle kiss just under Kirihara’s eye – a second tauntingly close to his mouth, just at the corner of his lips – a third to the edge of the boy’s chin, lingering a moment before leaning his forehead against Kirihara’s. He had come to terms with the feelings – no more than a slow simmer in his stomach – but he wondered if he were new to this feeling… would his nerves be on fire?
Akaya closed his eyes, shuddering. That was ah… pleasant. He let out a sigh, wanting to apologize even though he knew there was nothing to apologize for. Calmness coming back to him at the feeling of familiar touch, familiar closeness. This was safe, something he could respond to. Tilting his head, he pressed forward, lightly brushing against the man's lips… he didn't think anymore, letting his actions speak for him.
To her credit, Luis seemed to understand that the two of them were once again off in their little world, instead hopping off the bed and curling again in the now half-empty laundry basket. This went entirely unnoticed, naturally, by the older mutant who was more concerned with returning the kiss, his free hand finding the flesh of Kirihara’s abdomen, fingers crawling up under a long-sleeved shirt that, he thought in some distant part of his mind, had looked quite attractive while it was on the boy, but now sightless, Yamato certainly could not morn its loss if it were to be removed.
Skinny, though clearly not frail, Kirihara’s stomach was almost concave to the gentlest of touches, his breathing serving to fill out the shirt – to press skin into Yamato’s fingers. Though it was not for long that his thoughts lingered upon these observations, drifting away to not thinking much at all, moving on instinct to lightly graze the inside of Akaya’s lip with his teeth before drawing away from the kiss so he could instead touch the faintest of warm kisses to Kirihara’s throat almost tauntingly.
Even this little teasing made Akaya shiver in pleasure. He was sensitive all over, especially to the gentle touch. Especially to the gentle touch of this particular set of hands and lips. Head tilted back, to give the man more access to the neck, the boy moaned quietly. Because he wanted… and could… and it felt good.
Deciding that he wanted to do some touching as well, his free hand found it's way up to Yamato's nape, massaging gently, then sliding to the front, unbuttoning the shirt and brushing the skin with his fingertips.
There was nothing more on his mind now, than just the touches, kisses, warmth, and Akaya liked it this way.
Each small utterance from Akaya was a new pleasant tingle in Yamato’s back – dissolving into a very thin shudder at the wandering hand finding the shortest of hair on his neck, slipping forward to touch skin that had been unexplored in too long. Utterly aware of his own breath, and even more so of the boy’s, the older of the two was almost too conscious of the way, with every exhale, Akaya’s neck was caressed with warm ghosts of touches – what was left behind from the tender stroke of lips.
Repositioning himself so he could move both of his hands under Kirihara’s back, Yamato’s fingers crawled over a pronounced spine and the muscular skin over the shoulder blades, moving like the delicate, but deliberate, probing of antennae. More gentle kisses – each less substantial than the last – fell along the curve of the other side of the boy’s neck, moving up to their ultimate goal of the earlobe. Pausing only long enough for Yamato to attempt to whisper something teasing into the boy’s ear, though it quickly melted away into a throaty noise as Akaya stumbled upon a particularly sensitive patch of skin just above the navel.
That was when it happened – Yamato’s powers attempted to reach out to the boy, coming up hard against a wall, sending feedback into all of his senses… the sensation was almost chilling, as though a cool breeze swept back through him. He could ignore that feeling, though, with the way every small caress was lighting his skin on fire, his natural senses driving out the metaphysical counterparts.
The touch to his spine elicited an audible moan and shuddery breath from the boy. He breathed hard against the man's neck, the other hand, now free, joining the first one by the shirt with only one button left to take care of. The palms of his hands pressed into Yamato's abdomen making their way back up, gently teasing the skin, as they boy shifted to straddle the other's lap. Hands finally back at the shoulders started slipping the shirt off, stroking lightly newly exposed skin.
It didn't quite please Akaya that he had to stop Yamato from what he was doing to get the piece of clothing off. But he was very pleased by the skin-on-skin contact after he pulled his own shirt over his head. Shifting again, to get closer, the younger mutant demanded a kiss again. Softly brushing their lips together, teasing the man's lower lip with his tongue.
No force could have stopped the self-assured smirk that pulled back Yamato’s lips, breaking the kiss only because he could not get his face to cooperate and stop smiling like that. The muscles in his cheeks tight, he forced himself to relax again, inwardly chuckling, craning his neck so he could lift his head up enough to put a bit more pressure into the kiss, his tongue brushing Kiriahra’s, looping back behind the back of the boy’s upper set of incisors; his hands, one buried deep in a mess of dark hair, the other between the boy’s shoulder blades, compelled Akaya closer as the man bent one knee enough to brush against the inside of one of the boy’s thighs.
The moment was surreal – perhaps the feeling came from waiting so long to be able to be close, or from the odd mix of the cooling senses that were not his own mixing with Yamato’s natural sensations. The world around them faded into some distant background.
Akaya felt the smirk and saw it too, when the man pulled away, but before he could say anything about it Yamato's lips were on his again. The younger mutant just bit the man's tongue, instead, as if to ask, what was so funny. Then there was a moan, muffled into the kiss, followed by a shiver…
This time it was Kirihara who broke the kiss, breath coming out in short pants. He didn't open his eyes this time, he didn't move away much either. Lips only millimeters away…
Yamato similarly pulled back, his lips moving a bit into the slightest of smiles; one hand tangling in black curls. The rise and fall of Kirihara’s chest pressed into his own, with every heavy breath. “Still think I’m joking?” He had meant the words to come out teasingly, but his own breath came short – he probably sounded only breathy, his lips clumsy. The hand that remained on Akaya’s back moved slowly down to rest in the reservoir of his lower back, remaining there as Yamato stilled.
"Yes?" Even though Akaya said that, amusement coloured his voice. Daring Yamato to go further. He would rather not think too much on what the man said, but focus on his actions. It would be easier, safer, not as much confusing.
Eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids, head tilted back with a sigh at the gentle and slow touch to his back. His own arms resting over the man's shoulders, fingers stroking at the nape.
The short hair, shaved with every haircut, at the back of Yamato’s neck was standing on end from the deft touch from the boy. A thin shiver ran its course through the man’s body, a tremble that echoed from his shoulders to his toes, but only broadened the grin on his face. “Tough crowd,” joked the man in return, lifting his head so he could touch his lips against one side of a delicate collarbone. “Tell me something, Akaya.” Unfocused green eyes shifted to look more or less in the direction of Kirihara’s face. One of his hands slipped down from the boy’s back, sliding into the back pocket of the boy’s jeans as casually as if it were his own pocket. “What do you want?”
Oh, Akaya knew very well what he wanted. He knew the right words and all implications to them, but saying it all out loud was a different matter all together. It took him some time with the right word, that wouldn't kill him with embarrassment. He leaned forward, lips finding the man's ear, and whispered, "More?" And if Yamato asked any more questions Kirihara would bite him, damn it.
Humming thoughtfully, a low, throaty sound, the older man responded quietly, “I think you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” The word more was indeed a very good indication of what the boy wanted, but Yamato could not help but tease – not just because it was in his nature, but because if he knew what Akaya wanted… he could deliver. More sounded quite nice, though – his own body was giving him every signal that more was a very good idea.
Well yeah, that deserved a bite. And with a growl Kirihara did just that, on the same ear he whispered to earlier, quite hard, but not hard enough to make it bleed. Just hard enough to show his displeasure. He thought a bit more on his wording though (figuring that Yamato would still want a more specific answer). When he finally did decide, flush covered his cheeks, damn, this was so embarrassing, why did the other mutant made him talk anyway? Eh. Whispering again, this time voice barely audible, Akaya said, "Take me?" And if Yamato asked some stupid question like 'where should he take him?' then... well, Akaya surely wouldn't be happy.
The man yelped quietly at the bite – mostly in surprise. He had probably done something to deserve that, he reasoned, calming his nerves. Being arbitrary – that was probably it. His thoughts began and ended there at the greater detail Kirihara offered; though still only a pair of words, they nicely depicted exactly what it was the boy wanted. A very small part of Yamato was just a bit timid about the idea – sex could be both the deciding factor for a couple in a good and a bad way. He would hate to come this far just to find out they were all wrong for one another in that department; maybe a selfish way of seeing it, but Yamato admitted that much unabashedly.
“Here?” He did not mean the question to perpetuate Akaya’s frustration – they were going to want to lock the door, for one – among other preparations he would want to make. That, and there had been talk of bathtubs – he could be quite keen on that, still.
The question caught Akaya off guard. Here as in, in this room? Or bed? Well, whichever it was the answer was the same on the boy's part, "Where else?" Though he probably wouldn't mind anywhere, really (the thought make him flush again). Be it bed, floor, desk, whatever... and he knew it sounded a bit desperate, but he was never patient... and he had enough of waiting.
Kirihara rested his head on Yamato's shoulder, fingering the thin necklace. It made him happy that the man wore it... wore something Akaya gave him. Sort of sappy thought, but to hell with it. After a moment he added, "Wherever you want."
Fingers wrapped around the necklace – almost as though it was the first time that Akaya noticed that Yamato had been wearing it since it was given to him as a gift. A second they lingered like that, the older of them distinctly pleased with the way their bodies fit together and the soothing presence of a warm body beside him. But only for a moment did he linger, before he uttered and apology an untangled himself from the boy, getting up out of bed to go to the door, locking both the lock in the handle and the deadbolt. “I think we’d have a mite more trouble if we were interrupted tonight than usual.” Hence the locked door. But, that was not all – the rest was what he did not exactly know how to do gracefully not knowing what Kirihara’s past experience was.
Yamato kept condoms in his drawer – actually, they had not been purchased with himself in mind, at first; as a liaison between the students and teachers at the school, he had kept a stock of them in his room, just on the off chance that a student would be more comfortable approaching him about that kind of thing than… well, no one in their right mind wanted to talk sex with Ryuzaki or Hanamura… for all Yamato’s flirting, he was among those in their right mind. The other thing, lubricant, he had purchased with himself in mind, but as an afterthought after picking up the condoms near the beginning of the year. While his present relationship was quite risqué, there was no rule that stated that he could not have a sex life. As a student he had not caused too much trouble in that department – his few relationships over the years had usually fizzled out before it got too serious mostly because, as Yamato knew well, too few could put up with his flippant demeanor for that long; especially in bed.
This was also going to be difficult – he was quite literally blind; in his previous experiences, he was able to use the second set of senses as a means of feedback to make up for his loss of sight so there was nothing clumsy or unpracticed about his movements. However, he was going to have to quite literally feel his way through all of this – a thought that was certainly appealing, but perhaps a bit awkward at the same time. Still, as he found his way back to the bed, sitting on the edge and putting the box of condoms and the tube of lubricant down next to him, he had a casual smile on his face.
He would also give Kirihara one last chance to back out. “You’re sure?” He knew he could very easily be pounced just for saying that at all – or, at the least, growled at. The former was both amusing an appealing; it was Akaya’s fire that attracted Yamato like a moth spiraling slowly into a hypnotized and fiery death.
Rolling his eyes, Akaya did both things Yamato was thinking about. With a growl he pushed the man onto the bed and straddled him again. The kiss that followed should be enough of an answer. It was strange, or ever beyond Kirihara that the other even asked such thing, in the end if he wasn't sure he wouldn't have offered in the first place. The boy had no doubts, it was as simple as that. The need to be closer, touched… doubled by raging hormones and energy that with every, at least slightly intimate, touch set his skin on fire. Whether or not were they compatible in this? Well, practice makes perfect and if Yamato ever thought of letting it all go because of such stupid thing as sex, then there would be more to deal with than just a growl. Akaya could be nasty when he saw it fit, even for those close to him.
Though… when he thought more about it, it wasn't even a matter of 'want to' anymore, but more like 'need to'. It was the younger mutant's way of showing that the feeling was indeed mutual (he didn't think he would be ever able to actually say it), mind you, he was no slut that ran around offering his body to anyone. With a last lick and nip to Yamato's lips, Akaya breathed out, "Still think I'm not sure?"
Despite his musings from before, there was a utter lack of thought once Kirihara had him back on the bed. The kiss was, in a word, wet – not the most graceful kiss in the history of kisses, but one of the most passionate Yamato had the pleasure to be on the receiving and returning end of; passion and not practice was what ultimately defined whether a kiss was a “good” kiss or a “bad” kiss, anyway.
Having his words echoed back to him brought a thin smile to Yamato’s lips. “You’re heavy,” was all he offered in return, not waiting for any sort of response before reinstating the kiss, slowly lifting himself up by using his arms to gain leverage, in turn depositing the boy into his lap as they shifted. Both arms, the moment they could, moved to support Kirihara, settling against his back, fingers curling slightly against the skin.
Patience for Yamato was like impatience for Kirihara – he had it coming out of the eyeballs. He could drag this moment on into eternity until his younger partner was clawing and screaming; though, he also did not want to do that to Akaya. Not this time, anyway. It was filed away as something he could hold over the boy’s head another time, as he broke the kiss, instead directing his lips to the boy’s collarbone, his grip on the boy’s back becoming slightly more lax so he could lean the smaller body back enough to have access to his chest.
Akaya had a remark to that (that it was a good exercise for the man), but it was all muffled into the other's mouth and then completely forgotten. Feeling the wet touch on his collarbone, he licked his lips, head rolling to the other side The boy was trying hard to not let his breathing go out of control, as well as focusing on calming the energy inside. So far all it did was drive him out of his mind, doubling the sensations of whatever Yamato did to his body, but better keep an eye on it. Blasting something under such circumstances would not do anyone any good.
There was a thought, when he leaned back some more, that wouldn't it be easier to lie on the bed? Kirihara really wasn't up for hitting the floor, if or when the man loosened his grip too much. But this thought, just like any other coherent thinking processes at the moment, flew out and was forgotten.
Mumbling something incoherent against pale flesh (it might have been more coherent had it not been so badly muffled), the man adjusted his grip once more so he could lift the boy – a similar thought had occurred to him, more in the form of his arms eventually giving out on him – and settle him back on the bed. It was difficult, still, without sight or sensation to guide him; working blindly with his lips along Kirihara’s sternum, moving in a straight line while one hand settled against the boy’s ribs. He moved the thumb of that hand to lightly brush one nipple – already stiff to the touch.
Raising his head, Yamato teased, “And here I thought you came here to watch a movie.” However, before the boy could retort, Yamato gently took the other nipple between his teeth, running the very tip of his tongue over sensitive flesh.
If Kirihara had a retort to that it was lost in a moan that the boy did not quite manage to stifle. When he tried again, all he managed to let out was, "Shut up," and it was more of a whimper than the usual bark, after a long moment he added, "Your fault." The younger mutant did come here to watch a movie, damn it. It was all Yamato's fault, the man distracted him with the kiss earlier, which lead to, well, this.
The cool sheets beneath his back were welcomed, Akaya let his body fully relax, without the fear of falling. This let him focus his whole attention on the soft caresses. He was slightly unsure of what to do with his hands now, setting finally for one running slowly through the dark strands of hair (straight, so unlike his own), the other unmoving on the man's shoulder.
Yamato moved down the line of Kirihara’s abdomen, each small step of his way a gentle kiss leading down to the navel, where he paused a moment, almost as though waiting for the boy’s consent. The fingers of one hand curled under the beltline, giving the slightest tug; a question spoken clearly in his action.
Akaya let out a slightly frustrated sigh, before moving his hands to the front of his pants… undoing the button and the zipper. He hoped the man would get the hint… Small blush was lingering on his cheeks. As much as he was never ashamed of his body, it was a natural reaction when you were to be naked in the presence of another person. Even when the said person was blind.
Anxious? The thought went unvoiced, though it echoed in Yamato's mind. To tease was simply in his nature -- but he also was not out to torment Akaya, and it was clear that the boy was very anxious, indeed.
The direction of Yamato's hand changed, quite suddenly brushing his fingers over the thin layer of cloth that separated him from Akaya's groin, all subtlety tossed aside in an instant. “You’re going to have to move so we can get those off,” the man remarked – his hand continued on, as though encountering nothing remarkable, to cup the inner thigh, still trapped within jeans.
Letting the shudders going through his body die a bit, Akaya shifted just enough that with a little help from Yamato the jeans (together with the boxers) were pulled down, past his hips. Then, only with the man's hands off his legs. Despite his thoughts, that it was alright, there was nothing to be scared (well, why should he be scared?) of, the boy tensed up. His knees pulled together and up a bit, as if glued.
The way the boy's body tensed did not escape the older mutant; he settled both hands on Kirihara's knees, insisting only verbally, "Relax." He bent to place a light kiss to one kneecap, nuzzling his nose against the joint just as easily as Kirihara had into Yamato's neck so many times. He knew how scary this moment could be -- he was not faulting the boy in the least for being nervous. With a second kiss to the inner side to the kneecap, he ran his hand soothingly against the boy's thigh -- seeming to coax away some of the apprehension as he did.
The boy watched quietly, through half-lidded eyes, propped up on his elbows, it was calming, the feeling, or more like reassuring. His eyes finally fell closed and Akaya couldn't help the small, contented sigh that escaped his lips. Yamato sure had ways of making him feel better, safe maybe? His body was relaxing slowly to the gentle though steady touches. He laid back down on the bed, feeling all the tension disappear.
An easy smile on his lips, Yamato gently parted Akaya's knees, just enough that the man could move his way down one pale leg, pressing gentle kisses into milk whilte skin. Calm again, it seemed as though Akaya was able to react properly to the caress; egging Yamato on with small noises and an unconscious shift of his hips -- contractions of muscles in the legs that would briefly tighten just below the surface before relaxing once more. One kiss would soothe the tense muscles, the next would cause a small needy movement of the pelvis -- continuing on until Yamato found the hollow of skin where the leg met the torso, and nipped lightly, receiving in return a breathy moan.
It looked as though Akaya was as ready as he would ever be -- and this had been what he had wanted, specifically; Yamato was not going to deny him that. It took a couple pats against the blankets to find the lubricant -- once in hand, Yamato applied a bit to his hand, and set the bottle back where he would find it easily the next time -- there was nothing attractive about fumbling around blindly in the middle of sex.
Wordlessly, and without warning, the man's lips closed around the head of Akaya's penis, rolling his tongue against the tip, winning another very satisfying reaction from the boy; another small buck of the pelvis, and a throaty moan. Carefully, almost, the man took more of his lover's length into his mouth, noting that Akaya was already almost fully erect; to not be the tease, he would have to work maybe a bit more quickly. Half his attention on the motion of sucking, licking, moving his head to accommodate the more demanding thrusts of the pelvis, Yamato pressed his hands into fair-skinned thighs, parting Kirihara's legs further for the boy's own comfort. Two fingers slid into Akaya, to the knuckle, pulling out slowly before repeating the process -- the boy was still not nearly relaxed enough, and tight... this was going to hurt more than Yamato wanted it to if Akaya could not relax a bit.
If Akaya's mind was blank before, now it was only white… and hot… and ouch, he didn't miss the insertion of the fingers, but the pain soon enough turned into pleasure. A bit weird at first, though most definitely easy to get used to… easy to get addicted to? The thought that he should relax more did not appear in the white mess that was his mind and probably wouldn't… unless Yamato voiced that out loud.
The boy tried to keep his hips steady, fingers-nails clawing at the sheets, but every now and then he failed miserably. More moans and whimpers bleed from his lips, sounds he certainly wouldn't have liked if he actually was aware they were coming from him. Much too needy, something he liked to think he wasn't but…
At the moment he surely was. Kirihara was confused slightly, as to where to focus his attention. Either the mouth around him, or the fingers inside him, though his body made the choice for him… moving naturally against the slim digits sliding smoothly in and out.
Too abruptly, Yamato disengaged from Akaya, mouth tinged with the sour taste of precum. The man moved up, pressing his lips into his lover's as his fingers, beginning to shake from self-restraint, fumbled with his own fly and dropping his own trousers. His breath came heavy from his nose, the kisses becoming an uncontrolled mess of tongue and teeth – shaking hands removed the foil of the condom, sliding it on and giving one last soothing kiss.
"If you can relax, this will be much more comfortable," offered Yamato as he began the process of slicking his erection with lubricant. “For both of us,” he added a moment later – sex could be far more unpleasant for him if Akaya was not prepared or if they attempted it without lubricant. Not something he knew from experience, but also not something he cared to understand.
One hand pressed against Kirihara’s hip, the man adjusted again, coaxing the younger teen to lift his pelvis and settle his legs around Yamato as he moved in a bit closer. This time, there was no final check to see that Akaya was ready – just a small pause before Yamato guided himself inside Kirihara, white hot sparks flying behind his eyes from the immediate stimulation of over-sensitive skin. Muscles in his abdomen tightened with a sudden feeling like he was falling; stomach jumping and breath returning to him in one quick gasp. He exhaled with a shuddering breath that echoed down his skin from shoulders to toes.
Situated, he stressed once more, “Try to relax,” though his own voice was taught with tension. Speaking those words, he carefully withdrew partway before thrusting back in, sending a second gut-wrenching wave of pleasure through his body, and enticing a guttural groan from his lips. He started slowly, but with each movement, he and Akaya began to develop rhythm.
A small whine at the lose of the contact escaped parted lips, but soon enough Yamato's lips were on his own, distracting... kissing was probably Akaya's most favourite activity, as random as the thought was. The words about relaxing went completely past him... just how could he relax any more? All doubts about it were cleared though, when the man entered him.
First, desperate thought, was takeitouttakeitouttakeitout! It wasn't as much uncomfortable, as simply painful. Annoyingly enough the energy was set on doubling any sensation for him. Pleasure and pain. So this time the boy took the words to heart and willed himself to relax as much as he could...
And then Yamato started moving. And then... there was no pain, just that strong, tingling feeling in his gut of something building up. Only the pleasure that made his mind fall apart.
Kirihara pulled the older mutant down for another kiss, lips sliding to the cheek then, tasting the sweat, down to the neck, nipping and licking. Legs warped tightly around his lover's waist, arms around his neck, holding him close. He was doing, not thinking, just like his hips moved a bit up and forward, receiving the thrusts.
Similarly the older of the pair was well lost in movement -- thought escaping him entirely with each double pleasure of the warmth he drove into and the alternating abuse and soothing kisses applied to his neck. The man found himself with a mouthful of black curls, though his mind drifted far from that; one hand firmly pressed into Kirihara's lower back -- sticking in slick sweat -- to help keep him steady, the other closing once more around his lover's erection, moving in jerky rising and falling motions as his own movements became erratic.
His brain began to fog over -- lost deep within intense sensations, he felt like a film stood between the cognitive and the physical, leaving him focusing too intently on crawling hands on his skin, the noises being torn from Akaya's throat, as though by force -- the familiar shudder and calm of release overcoming the boy with a choked cry. Yamato followed only moments later, dropping away into shudders of nervous release.
The intensity, the little something that was building up low in his abdomen, broke into hundreds of tiny little pieces. Sharp, but at the same time gentle like a brush of butterfly's wings, filling his body. Melting away, leaving a feeling not known to the boy before. Contented, safe... happy.
The release left Akaya breathless, gasping for breath. His mind trying to pull itself back together, memorizing the sensations... the weight of the man, pressing him into the mattress, crushing him a bit, but even so he didn't want for either of them to move, the feeling of Yamato still inside him, their heavy breathing... and the heart beating wildly like there's no tomorrow.
A moment, Yamato lingered there, comfortably, shifting only to press their lips together in an almost chaste meeting of the lips -- no more than a silent, if not needless, reminder of the words he had spoken not long before. Slowly, he moved away, shifting to offer up his own arms and his chest for Akaya to rest, rather than crushing the other's smaller body under his greater weight and size.
Curling up, half on the man, half still on the bed, Akaya pressed his face into Yamato's neck with a sigh. He felt sticky and definitely wanted a bath, but for now he settled on resting for a bit. There was nothing to be said, the boy thought and only nuzzled the neck.
Eyes closed peacefully as his breathing began to even out, Yamato could not help the fleeting thought that he wanted nothing more than to bathe, and that they would both regret it if they did not just do that. The thought was dismissed almost immediately with a serene smile as he held Akaya loosely; he had not the energy to hold him any closer.
Minutes ticked away in comfortable warmth and silence; the man would have even been happy to let that continue on, but he was beginning to get tired, and he did want to get himself clean before falling asleep. "Akaya," he murmured, pressing a kiss into the boy's hair, straw-like from the drying sweat. "We both need a shower."
Akaya purred quietly and nodded his head, speaking up, "Yeah, but I want a bath after too." He hoped the implication came through, and Yamato understood what he meant. With such thought he rolled over and unfortunately counted the distance to the edge of the bed wrongly; with a thud and a loud groan Kirihara hit the floor. Not only was his butt sore from their previous activities, and now this. But the bath! He sat on the floor and slowly got up, feeling the muscles in his behind. Well, it didn't hurt that much.
A sudden laugh tore from Yamato's lips – between the comment and Kirihara falling off the bed, it could not be helped. He pushed himself up to a sit, chuckling away the remainder of his amusement, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, coming to a stand. "I'll go start the water," he offered, as a means of accepting Akaya's proposition.
Perhaps because he was blind, or simply by his nature alone, Yamato was always comfortable with his own nudity; for many, it was something that came with things age, maturity, or sexual experience, but he simply had never thought much of it; especially not in this particular situation. He paused only to grab Akaya for another kiss – one that left behind plenty of promises on Akaya's lips – before disappearing into the bathroom.
Most of the time Akaya had no problems with nudity either, unless in a situation like before, but now he didn't care. Besides, they were both guys; it wasn't like they had something they hadn't seen already. And after all, Yamato was blind.
The kiss left the boy a bit dazed. He stood in the middle of the room for a while, trying to get his mind back together again. When he finally did, as fast as he could, Kirihara cleaned up the mess they made. Folding the clothes, making the bed – aha – and Luis was sleeping peacefully in the laundry basket. Good that she was sleeping; Akaya would rather not have any spectators. Even in the form of a kitten. No way.
Leaving the little creature in the basket, the younger mutant made his way to the bathroom as well. Being careful of the doorstep, to not trip again.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kirihara randomly showed up at Yamato's door to watch a movie. That was how it started, anyway. I... have no excuse for how it went from there.
It might seem ridiculous, but Akaya found himself again in font of Yamato's door. Though this time with a reason… not like previous times he didn't have one. This time he wanted to spend some time together, apart from training. Sister sent him some DVDs few days ago, so yeah… he thought it would be something nice. Definitely. And the man surely wouldn't mind. Or so Kirihara thought.
…
Well, he didn't mind the last time the boy showed up randomly. Akaya stood there for good 5 minutes before he finally decided to knock, slight blush covering his cheeks.
With a laundry basket in his hands, and an artificially calm kitten snuggled in to the heap of warm, fresh-from-the-dryer clothing, Yamato made his way down the hall back to his room. He could not be bothered to fold clothing until he could set the clothing out on his bed, as it was a pain in the butt to try to keep Luis from playing with dryer sheets and stray socks... or whatever else she could get her little paws on. He was relieved, for this fact, to notice someone near his door -- someone that could probably help him with the door... and a few steps later, with a twitch of his lips, he was able to positively identify Akaya.
The slight boy reached up a hand, knocking on the door, just before Yamato could say something to stop him. With a chuckle, the man called out, "Akaya," gaining the attention of the boy with a mess of black curls. "Could you help me with the door?"
The boy was slightly startled to hear Yamato from well… outside of the room. But right, the door, as apparently the man had his hands occupied. It was probably locked, "Where do you have the keys?" Even though Kirihara asked that, he also put his hand on the knob, trying it… just as he thought, locked. And where did guys keep keys? In their pockets… Hopefully the man was not like most of the guys out there.
Unaware of the boy's thoughts, Yamato was also unaware of the horror he could unintentionally provoke as he explained, "In my right, front pocket." He shifted the basket a bit in his arms, tilting his head to the side a notch. "If you don't want to go feeling around in my pants, you'll need to hold the basket so I can reach them." A smirk coloring his face, the man added, "Of course, if you do have the urge to feel around in my pants, it's not like I'm going to stop you." He could see from Luis' eyes that the younger mutant was already blushing... it made Yamato wonder why the boy was at his door at all.
Akaya glared halfheartedly, but he was no coward and it wasn't such a big deal, right? Right. Stalking up to the older man, he looked around. Better not have anyone see them like that, as innocent as it all was, it could be taken wrongly. Just like that time when Osakada walked in after they tripped. She was still giving him weird looks, especially during training when they still were in one training team. Thank God she was now in another.
He bit his lip gently, so it wouldn't be seen, as his hand slid into the other's pocket. Luckily for Kirihara, he could feel the keys quite quickly and he pulled his hand away. Opening the door was now a matter of seconds, and so the boy stood, waiting for Yamato to enter.
Shifting the laundry basket once more, Yamato leaned close to Kirihara, forcing the boy’s back against the door, and whispered against the curve of his ear, barely more than a heavy breath against pale flesh, “Akaya, you pervert.” He touched a light kiss against the boy’s cheek, moving past him to settle the laundry basket at the foot of the bed, Luis contentedly curling in the warm clothing, purring away happily, unaware of the mischief her owner was causing.
Curiously, the man inquired, “Why’d you come by?” As though Kirihara needed a reason – it was just as much his room as it was Yamato’s, as far as the instructor was concerned. Were it not for the fundamental issues with their relationship, he would have even asked the younger mutant long ago if he would prefer to room together. But, even the weekend they spent together after the incident had been extremely risky; no need to flaunt what already should not have been happening.
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" The 17-year-old growled out. He was a pervert?! Like hell, it wasn't him who seduced younger boys, duh. Not like any of these thoughts were serious. It was Yamato's own damn fault he carried the keys in his pockets. The next question though, reminded him why he was here in the first place. The annoyance disappearing in an instant.
But first… "Do I even need a reason?" Akaya smirked, but after a moment he added, "Thought we could er… watch a movie together. Sister sent me some DVDs." This time he didn't blush, finally convincing himself it was a normal thing.
“Of course not,” responded Yamato to the first question, stepping past the boy again to take the key out of the knob and close the door, setting the key down on the corner of his dresser; the blind had to form habits, if they were to always know where everything was, and that just so happened to be his habit with the key to his room… while it helped to have his mutation, in particular when Luis was around, he still did not quite operate normally when it came to all aspects of his life, though it would appear otherwise from the outside.
To the suggestion, Yamato replied, “Nice of Asuka-san to send you movies from home.” He plucked his feline companion from the basket, setting her on the bed (though she made a beeline for Akaya, instead), and lifted the clothes up out of the basket, settling with them on the bed to begin folding. This, he could do blindly, just fine. “If you don’t mind that I need to fold some laundry, then I think that sounds like a great idea.” He seemed to remember a Kirihara Akaya of the past that was hard to coerce into sitting still for the duration of a movie; perhaps it was just the genre at the time… or perhaps there had been a change either in the boy or in his bond with his instructor.
Briefly, the thought that Yamato had very nearly ruined all of that with his powers crossed the man’s mind… he was a dangerous creature, and he was not about to forget that, though he was happy to pretend he did not even give it a second thought – for Akaya’s sake. They would talk about it eventually – probably when both of them were ready to address such things. Training sessions with Yamato’s group of students had become almost too formal between the two of them, lacking even the warmth Yamato had gained before they were ever together… maybe Akaya was just as unwilling to bring it up as Yamato himself.
There was nothing more to be said about the incident, or so Akaya thought. He would get over it eventually, after the scars on his arm faded (though they wouldn't disappear completely). There was no need for bandages anymore, but he still wore long sleeved shirts, even inside. This time a dark red wine, nicely complimenting his eyes. Smiling, he said, "She just doesn't want me to blast anything out of boredom." Movies weren't much help, as he had problems with sitting in one place for that long, but what he said once was true. The man really made him calmer, somehow. Well, to the extent that he could sit still for a bit longer.
Luis was now rubbing against his ankles, demanding attention. As if she hadn't seen Kirihara for months. With a chuckle he picked her up from the floor, putting the movie, that he held in the other hand all the time, on the desk, on his way to the bed. When his back connected with the bed's sheets, he let out a sigh. Damn, this bed was so much more comfortable than his own. The kitten slid from the boy's chest to curl up against his neck, like she used in the med lab. "That's fine." He would ask if Yamato didn't need any help, but laundry was something that should be done by the owner.
Moving on autopilot, the older man’s hands found the seams of the clothing so he could judge their size and shape, folding each one appropriately and neatly with years of experience evident in his technique – while folding clothes was not exactly any sort of feat of power for anyone else, there had been any amazing moment in Yamato’s life the first time he folded a shirt properly without any outside help; like everything else he could do without the aide of at least Luis, it was just a different sort of learning curve. The first time he cooked a full meal by himself, though carefully monitored by his mother, the whole family had, ironically, gone out to celebrate. The Yamato family was just full of quirks like that.
“You know,” began the man, fingers tracing over the seams of what felt like a pair of slacks, finding the zipper to confirm that fact. “I’d like it if you met my family, sometime.” More accurately, Yamato would like it if his parents were to meet Akaya… at least his mother, anyway. He knew that it would keep her quiet for a bit if she saw her son happily in a relationship. Or, inversely, he could completely backfire on him and she could start setting him up with “nice girls,” again.
Akaya was lying comfortably on the bed until the question was posed. He froze. Huh?
…
"I'm not cross-dressing for that." He deadpanned. The whole idea was completely crazy, but like he always said, one could never be sure about anything with Yamato.
Tossing the boy a strange look, Yamato’s lips turned down into an almost-frown. “Who said anything about cross dressing?” He reached over, patting the first convenient place he could find on Kirihara blindly (which just so happened to be his stomach), and shook his head. “If I wanted a girlfriend, don’t you think I would have left you long ago?” The easy smile returned to his face and he moved on to another shirt, dexterous fingers working swiftly enough that he would be done in a manner of a couple minutes.
Then again, at this point, it was no longer about gender or physical attraction; Yamato was entirely willing to nod his head to that fact. He should have known, from Luis alone, that this was going to happen – the intuition of animals was uncanny. At the moment, the cat had contentedly curled herself against Kirihara’s neck, with no sign of moving any time soon, unless she was forced to… oddly, the feeling echoed itself in Yamato’s chest, and he paused, mid-fold.
One hand went to his face, taking off his sunglasses; the half-folded shirt dropping in his lap. It was not romantic; it was not even a good time, but it was what was on Yamato’s mind, and had been since the incident. Turning his head to Kirihara, the man’s smile softened very slightly. “Akaya, I love you.”
…And for the second time that day Kirihara froze. His mind turning blank as he stared dumbly into the other's eyes. Love? How Akaya hated big words and feelings. Though… big words especially. "Don't joke about something like that." He said finally, sitting up. Luis wasn't pleased with that, but… at the moment there were more important things to clear.
Akaya never had any experience with love, he didn't know exactly what it was yet, did he really though? Fooling around, crushes, sure… it might be from the almost female-only environment he grew up in (his father rarely being home), he thought that love was just a stupid word… but what stood behind it was nowhere near stupid, if it was honest. And most definitely shouldn’t be taken lightly. But was it honest? "Please, just… don't joke about something like that." Again, the same plea. It hurt, it was scary… confusing, and he was overreacting? Probably. But he really disliked talking about feelings. And even if Yamato was honest about what he said, did he expect an answer? Then he would get no answer, because the boy didn't know it. Or rather… he preferred to act rather than speak. This way he didn't have to name anything. It was easier. Much easier.
His mind was one big mess now, as he stared down at his fists in his lap.
…Why would Yamato joke about something like that? Well, that didn’t work at all. Edging to the side, the man reached out a hand, fumbling for Akaya’s, prying open clenched fingers and clasping one stiff hand. “It’s not like I expect you to feel the same, but if you didn’t know…” There would be regrets; Yamato was a man jam-packed full of regrets, despite his easygoing exterior. Leaving the previous statement to dangle, the man murmured, “Of course I’m not joking.” But, as always, he knew the other mutant was a boy of action – words were either meaningless to him or simply harder to comprehend; Yamato would probably never know which it was.
That thought in mind, Yamato closed the distance between them, placing a gentle kiss just under Kirihara’s eye – a second tauntingly close to his mouth, just at the corner of his lips – a third to the edge of the boy’s chin, lingering a moment before leaning his forehead against Kirihara’s. He had come to terms with the feelings – no more than a slow simmer in his stomach – but he wondered if he were new to this feeling… would his nerves be on fire?
Akaya closed his eyes, shuddering. That was ah… pleasant. He let out a sigh, wanting to apologize even though he knew there was nothing to apologize for. Calmness coming back to him at the feeling of familiar touch, familiar closeness. This was safe, something he could respond to. Tilting his head, he pressed forward, lightly brushing against the man's lips… he didn't think anymore, letting his actions speak for him.
To her credit, Luis seemed to understand that the two of them were once again off in their little world, instead hopping off the bed and curling again in the now half-empty laundry basket. This went entirely unnoticed, naturally, by the older mutant who was more concerned with returning the kiss, his free hand finding the flesh of Kirihara’s abdomen, fingers crawling up under a long-sleeved shirt that, he thought in some distant part of his mind, had looked quite attractive while it was on the boy, but now sightless, Yamato certainly could not morn its loss if it were to be removed.
Skinny, though clearly not frail, Kirihara’s stomach was almost concave to the gentlest of touches, his breathing serving to fill out the shirt – to press skin into Yamato’s fingers. Though it was not for long that his thoughts lingered upon these observations, drifting away to not thinking much at all, moving on instinct to lightly graze the inside of Akaya’s lip with his teeth before drawing away from the kiss so he could instead touch the faintest of warm kisses to Kirihara’s throat almost tauntingly.
Even this little teasing made Akaya shiver in pleasure. He was sensitive all over, especially to the gentle touch. Especially to the gentle touch of this particular set of hands and lips. Head tilted back, to give the man more access to the neck, the boy moaned quietly. Because he wanted… and could… and it felt good.
Deciding that he wanted to do some touching as well, his free hand found it's way up to Yamato's nape, massaging gently, then sliding to the front, unbuttoning the shirt and brushing the skin with his fingertips.
There was nothing more on his mind now, than just the touches, kisses, warmth, and Akaya liked it this way.
Each small utterance from Akaya was a new pleasant tingle in Yamato’s back – dissolving into a very thin shudder at the wandering hand finding the shortest of hair on his neck, slipping forward to touch skin that had been unexplored in too long. Utterly aware of his own breath, and even more so of the boy’s, the older of the two was almost too conscious of the way, with every exhale, Akaya’s neck was caressed with warm ghosts of touches – what was left behind from the tender stroke of lips.
Repositioning himself so he could move both of his hands under Kirihara’s back, Yamato’s fingers crawled over a pronounced spine and the muscular skin over the shoulder blades, moving like the delicate, but deliberate, probing of antennae. More gentle kisses – each less substantial than the last – fell along the curve of the other side of the boy’s neck, moving up to their ultimate goal of the earlobe. Pausing only long enough for Yamato to attempt to whisper something teasing into the boy’s ear, though it quickly melted away into a throaty noise as Akaya stumbled upon a particularly sensitive patch of skin just above the navel.
That was when it happened – Yamato’s powers attempted to reach out to the boy, coming up hard against a wall, sending feedback into all of his senses… the sensation was almost chilling, as though a cool breeze swept back through him. He could ignore that feeling, though, with the way every small caress was lighting his skin on fire, his natural senses driving out the metaphysical counterparts.
The touch to his spine elicited an audible moan and shuddery breath from the boy. He breathed hard against the man's neck, the other hand, now free, joining the first one by the shirt with only one button left to take care of. The palms of his hands pressed into Yamato's abdomen making their way back up, gently teasing the skin, as they boy shifted to straddle the other's lap. Hands finally back at the shoulders started slipping the shirt off, stroking lightly newly exposed skin.
It didn't quite please Akaya that he had to stop Yamato from what he was doing to get the piece of clothing off. But he was very pleased by the skin-on-skin contact after he pulled his own shirt over his head. Shifting again, to get closer, the younger mutant demanded a kiss again. Softly brushing their lips together, teasing the man's lower lip with his tongue.
No force could have stopped the self-assured smirk that pulled back Yamato’s lips, breaking the kiss only because he could not get his face to cooperate and stop smiling like that. The muscles in his cheeks tight, he forced himself to relax again, inwardly chuckling, craning his neck so he could lift his head up enough to put a bit more pressure into the kiss, his tongue brushing Kiriahra’s, looping back behind the back of the boy’s upper set of incisors; his hands, one buried deep in a mess of dark hair, the other between the boy’s shoulder blades, compelled Akaya closer as the man bent one knee enough to brush against the inside of one of the boy’s thighs.
The moment was surreal – perhaps the feeling came from waiting so long to be able to be close, or from the odd mix of the cooling senses that were not his own mixing with Yamato’s natural sensations. The world around them faded into some distant background.
Akaya felt the smirk and saw it too, when the man pulled away, but before he could say anything about it Yamato's lips were on his again. The younger mutant just bit the man's tongue, instead, as if to ask, what was so funny. Then there was a moan, muffled into the kiss, followed by a shiver…
This time it was Kirihara who broke the kiss, breath coming out in short pants. He didn't open his eyes this time, he didn't move away much either. Lips only millimeters away…
Yamato similarly pulled back, his lips moving a bit into the slightest of smiles; one hand tangling in black curls. The rise and fall of Kirihara’s chest pressed into his own, with every heavy breath. “Still think I’m joking?” He had meant the words to come out teasingly, but his own breath came short – he probably sounded only breathy, his lips clumsy. The hand that remained on Akaya’s back moved slowly down to rest in the reservoir of his lower back, remaining there as Yamato stilled.
"Yes?" Even though Akaya said that, amusement coloured his voice. Daring Yamato to go further. He would rather not think too much on what the man said, but focus on his actions. It would be easier, safer, not as much confusing.
Eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids, head tilted back with a sigh at the gentle and slow touch to his back. His own arms resting over the man's shoulders, fingers stroking at the nape.
The short hair, shaved with every haircut, at the back of Yamato’s neck was standing on end from the deft touch from the boy. A thin shiver ran its course through the man’s body, a tremble that echoed from his shoulders to his toes, but only broadened the grin on his face. “Tough crowd,” joked the man in return, lifting his head so he could touch his lips against one side of a delicate collarbone. “Tell me something, Akaya.” Unfocused green eyes shifted to look more or less in the direction of Kirihara’s face. One of his hands slipped down from the boy’s back, sliding into the back pocket of the boy’s jeans as casually as if it were his own pocket. “What do you want?”
Oh, Akaya knew very well what he wanted. He knew the right words and all implications to them, but saying it all out loud was a different matter all together. It took him some time with the right word, that wouldn't kill him with embarrassment. He leaned forward, lips finding the man's ear, and whispered, "More?" And if Yamato asked any more questions Kirihara would bite him, damn it.
Humming thoughtfully, a low, throaty sound, the older man responded quietly, “I think you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” The word more was indeed a very good indication of what the boy wanted, but Yamato could not help but tease – not just because it was in his nature, but because if he knew what Akaya wanted… he could deliver. More sounded quite nice, though – his own body was giving him every signal that more was a very good idea.
Well yeah, that deserved a bite. And with a growl Kirihara did just that, on the same ear he whispered to earlier, quite hard, but not hard enough to make it bleed. Just hard enough to show his displeasure. He thought a bit more on his wording though (figuring that Yamato would still want a more specific answer). When he finally did decide, flush covered his cheeks, damn, this was so embarrassing, why did the other mutant made him talk anyway? Eh. Whispering again, this time voice barely audible, Akaya said, "Take me?" And if Yamato asked some stupid question like 'where should he take him?' then... well, Akaya surely wouldn't be happy.
The man yelped quietly at the bite – mostly in surprise. He had probably done something to deserve that, he reasoned, calming his nerves. Being arbitrary – that was probably it. His thoughts began and ended there at the greater detail Kirihara offered; though still only a pair of words, they nicely depicted exactly what it was the boy wanted. A very small part of Yamato was just a bit timid about the idea – sex could be both the deciding factor for a couple in a good and a bad way. He would hate to come this far just to find out they were all wrong for one another in that department; maybe a selfish way of seeing it, but Yamato admitted that much unabashedly.
“Here?” He did not mean the question to perpetuate Akaya’s frustration – they were going to want to lock the door, for one – among other preparations he would want to make. That, and there had been talk of bathtubs – he could be quite keen on that, still.
The question caught Akaya off guard. Here as in, in this room? Or bed? Well, whichever it was the answer was the same on the boy's part, "Where else?" Though he probably wouldn't mind anywhere, really (the thought make him flush again). Be it bed, floor, desk, whatever... and he knew it sounded a bit desperate, but he was never patient... and he had enough of waiting.
Kirihara rested his head on Yamato's shoulder, fingering the thin necklace. It made him happy that the man wore it... wore something Akaya gave him. Sort of sappy thought, but to hell with it. After a moment he added, "Wherever you want."
Fingers wrapped around the necklace – almost as though it was the first time that Akaya noticed that Yamato had been wearing it since it was given to him as a gift. A second they lingered like that, the older of them distinctly pleased with the way their bodies fit together and the soothing presence of a warm body beside him. But only for a moment did he linger, before he uttered and apology an untangled himself from the boy, getting up out of bed to go to the door, locking both the lock in the handle and the deadbolt. “I think we’d have a mite more trouble if we were interrupted tonight than usual.” Hence the locked door. But, that was not all – the rest was what he did not exactly know how to do gracefully not knowing what Kirihara’s past experience was.
Yamato kept condoms in his drawer – actually, they had not been purchased with himself in mind, at first; as a liaison between the students and teachers at the school, he had kept a stock of them in his room, just on the off chance that a student would be more comfortable approaching him about that kind of thing than… well, no one in their right mind wanted to talk sex with Ryuzaki or Hanamura… for all Yamato’s flirting, he was among those in their right mind. The other thing, lubricant, he had purchased with himself in mind, but as an afterthought after picking up the condoms near the beginning of the year. While his present relationship was quite risqué, there was no rule that stated that he could not have a sex life. As a student he had not caused too much trouble in that department – his few relationships over the years had usually fizzled out before it got too serious mostly because, as Yamato knew well, too few could put up with his flippant demeanor for that long; especially in bed.
This was also going to be difficult – he was quite literally blind; in his previous experiences, he was able to use the second set of senses as a means of feedback to make up for his loss of sight so there was nothing clumsy or unpracticed about his movements. However, he was going to have to quite literally feel his way through all of this – a thought that was certainly appealing, but perhaps a bit awkward at the same time. Still, as he found his way back to the bed, sitting on the edge and putting the box of condoms and the tube of lubricant down next to him, he had a casual smile on his face.
He would also give Kirihara one last chance to back out. “You’re sure?” He knew he could very easily be pounced just for saying that at all – or, at the least, growled at. The former was both amusing an appealing; it was Akaya’s fire that attracted Yamato like a moth spiraling slowly into a hypnotized and fiery death.
Rolling his eyes, Akaya did both things Yamato was thinking about. With a growl he pushed the man onto the bed and straddled him again. The kiss that followed should be enough of an answer. It was strange, or ever beyond Kirihara that the other even asked such thing, in the end if he wasn't sure he wouldn't have offered in the first place. The boy had no doubts, it was as simple as that. The need to be closer, touched… doubled by raging hormones and energy that with every, at least slightly intimate, touch set his skin on fire. Whether or not were they compatible in this? Well, practice makes perfect and if Yamato ever thought of letting it all go because of such stupid thing as sex, then there would be more to deal with than just a growl. Akaya could be nasty when he saw it fit, even for those close to him.
Though… when he thought more about it, it wasn't even a matter of 'want to' anymore, but more like 'need to'. It was the younger mutant's way of showing that the feeling was indeed mutual (he didn't think he would be ever able to actually say it), mind you, he was no slut that ran around offering his body to anyone. With a last lick and nip to Yamato's lips, Akaya breathed out, "Still think I'm not sure?"
Despite his musings from before, there was a utter lack of thought once Kirihara had him back on the bed. The kiss was, in a word, wet – not the most graceful kiss in the history of kisses, but one of the most passionate Yamato had the pleasure to be on the receiving and returning end of; passion and not practice was what ultimately defined whether a kiss was a “good” kiss or a “bad” kiss, anyway.
Having his words echoed back to him brought a thin smile to Yamato’s lips. “You’re heavy,” was all he offered in return, not waiting for any sort of response before reinstating the kiss, slowly lifting himself up by using his arms to gain leverage, in turn depositing the boy into his lap as they shifted. Both arms, the moment they could, moved to support Kirihara, settling against his back, fingers curling slightly against the skin.
Patience for Yamato was like impatience for Kirihara – he had it coming out of the eyeballs. He could drag this moment on into eternity until his younger partner was clawing and screaming; though, he also did not want to do that to Akaya. Not this time, anyway. It was filed away as something he could hold over the boy’s head another time, as he broke the kiss, instead directing his lips to the boy’s collarbone, his grip on the boy’s back becoming slightly more lax so he could lean the smaller body back enough to have access to his chest.
Akaya had a remark to that (that it was a good exercise for the man), but it was all muffled into the other's mouth and then completely forgotten. Feeling the wet touch on his collarbone, he licked his lips, head rolling to the other side The boy was trying hard to not let his breathing go out of control, as well as focusing on calming the energy inside. So far all it did was drive him out of his mind, doubling the sensations of whatever Yamato did to his body, but better keep an eye on it. Blasting something under such circumstances would not do anyone any good.
There was a thought, when he leaned back some more, that wouldn't it be easier to lie on the bed? Kirihara really wasn't up for hitting the floor, if or when the man loosened his grip too much. But this thought, just like any other coherent thinking processes at the moment, flew out and was forgotten.
Mumbling something incoherent against pale flesh (it might have been more coherent had it not been so badly muffled), the man adjusted his grip once more so he could lift the boy – a similar thought had occurred to him, more in the form of his arms eventually giving out on him – and settle him back on the bed. It was difficult, still, without sight or sensation to guide him; working blindly with his lips along Kirihara’s sternum, moving in a straight line while one hand settled against the boy’s ribs. He moved the thumb of that hand to lightly brush one nipple – already stiff to the touch.
Raising his head, Yamato teased, “And here I thought you came here to watch a movie.” However, before the boy could retort, Yamato gently took the other nipple between his teeth, running the very tip of his tongue over sensitive flesh.
If Kirihara had a retort to that it was lost in a moan that the boy did not quite manage to stifle. When he tried again, all he managed to let out was, "Shut up," and it was more of a whimper than the usual bark, after a long moment he added, "Your fault." The younger mutant did come here to watch a movie, damn it. It was all Yamato's fault, the man distracted him with the kiss earlier, which lead to, well, this.
The cool sheets beneath his back were welcomed, Akaya let his body fully relax, without the fear of falling. This let him focus his whole attention on the soft caresses. He was slightly unsure of what to do with his hands now, setting finally for one running slowly through the dark strands of hair (straight, so unlike his own), the other unmoving on the man's shoulder.
Yamato moved down the line of Kirihara’s abdomen, each small step of his way a gentle kiss leading down to the navel, where he paused a moment, almost as though waiting for the boy’s consent. The fingers of one hand curled under the beltline, giving the slightest tug; a question spoken clearly in his action.
Akaya let out a slightly frustrated sigh, before moving his hands to the front of his pants… undoing the button and the zipper. He hoped the man would get the hint… Small blush was lingering on his cheeks. As much as he was never ashamed of his body, it was a natural reaction when you were to be naked in the presence of another person. Even when the said person was blind.
Anxious? The thought went unvoiced, though it echoed in Yamato's mind. To tease was simply in his nature -- but he also was not out to torment Akaya, and it was clear that the boy was very anxious, indeed.
The direction of Yamato's hand changed, quite suddenly brushing his fingers over the thin layer of cloth that separated him from Akaya's groin, all subtlety tossed aside in an instant. “You’re going to have to move so we can get those off,” the man remarked – his hand continued on, as though encountering nothing remarkable, to cup the inner thigh, still trapped within jeans.
Letting the shudders going through his body die a bit, Akaya shifted just enough that with a little help from Yamato the jeans (together with the boxers) were pulled down, past his hips. Then, only with the man's hands off his legs. Despite his thoughts, that it was alright, there was nothing to be scared (well, why should he be scared?) of, the boy tensed up. His knees pulled together and up a bit, as if glued.
The way the boy's body tensed did not escape the older mutant; he settled both hands on Kirihara's knees, insisting only verbally, "Relax." He bent to place a light kiss to one kneecap, nuzzling his nose against the joint just as easily as Kirihara had into Yamato's neck so many times. He knew how scary this moment could be -- he was not faulting the boy in the least for being nervous. With a second kiss to the inner side to the kneecap, he ran his hand soothingly against the boy's thigh -- seeming to coax away some of the apprehension as he did.
The boy watched quietly, through half-lidded eyes, propped up on his elbows, it was calming, the feeling, or more like reassuring. His eyes finally fell closed and Akaya couldn't help the small, contented sigh that escaped his lips. Yamato sure had ways of making him feel better, safe maybe? His body was relaxing slowly to the gentle though steady touches. He laid back down on the bed, feeling all the tension disappear.
An easy smile on his lips, Yamato gently parted Akaya's knees, just enough that the man could move his way down one pale leg, pressing gentle kisses into milk whilte skin. Calm again, it seemed as though Akaya was able to react properly to the caress; egging Yamato on with small noises and an unconscious shift of his hips -- contractions of muscles in the legs that would briefly tighten just below the surface before relaxing once more. One kiss would soothe the tense muscles, the next would cause a small needy movement of the pelvis -- continuing on until Yamato found the hollow of skin where the leg met the torso, and nipped lightly, receiving in return a breathy moan.
It looked as though Akaya was as ready as he would ever be -- and this had been what he had wanted, specifically; Yamato was not going to deny him that. It took a couple pats against the blankets to find the lubricant -- once in hand, Yamato applied a bit to his hand, and set the bottle back where he would find it easily the next time -- there was nothing attractive about fumbling around blindly in the middle of sex.
Wordlessly, and without warning, the man's lips closed around the head of Akaya's penis, rolling his tongue against the tip, winning another very satisfying reaction from the boy; another small buck of the pelvis, and a throaty moan. Carefully, almost, the man took more of his lover's length into his mouth, noting that Akaya was already almost fully erect; to not be the tease, he would have to work maybe a bit more quickly. Half his attention on the motion of sucking, licking, moving his head to accommodate the more demanding thrusts of the pelvis, Yamato pressed his hands into fair-skinned thighs, parting Kirihara's legs further for the boy's own comfort. Two fingers slid into Akaya, to the knuckle, pulling out slowly before repeating the process -- the boy was still not nearly relaxed enough, and tight... this was going to hurt more than Yamato wanted it to if Akaya could not relax a bit.
If Akaya's mind was blank before, now it was only white… and hot… and ouch, he didn't miss the insertion of the fingers, but the pain soon enough turned into pleasure. A bit weird at first, though most definitely easy to get used to… easy to get addicted to? The thought that he should relax more did not appear in the white mess that was his mind and probably wouldn't… unless Yamato voiced that out loud.
The boy tried to keep his hips steady, fingers-nails clawing at the sheets, but every now and then he failed miserably. More moans and whimpers bleed from his lips, sounds he certainly wouldn't have liked if he actually was aware they were coming from him. Much too needy, something he liked to think he wasn't but…
At the moment he surely was. Kirihara was confused slightly, as to where to focus his attention. Either the mouth around him, or the fingers inside him, though his body made the choice for him… moving naturally against the slim digits sliding smoothly in and out.
Too abruptly, Yamato disengaged from Akaya, mouth tinged with the sour taste of precum. The man moved up, pressing his lips into his lover's as his fingers, beginning to shake from self-restraint, fumbled with his own fly and dropping his own trousers. His breath came heavy from his nose, the kisses becoming an uncontrolled mess of tongue and teeth – shaking hands removed the foil of the condom, sliding it on and giving one last soothing kiss.
"If you can relax, this will be much more comfortable," offered Yamato as he began the process of slicking his erection with lubricant. “For both of us,” he added a moment later – sex could be far more unpleasant for him if Akaya was not prepared or if they attempted it without lubricant. Not something he knew from experience, but also not something he cared to understand.
One hand pressed against Kirihara’s hip, the man adjusted again, coaxing the younger teen to lift his pelvis and settle his legs around Yamato as he moved in a bit closer. This time, there was no final check to see that Akaya was ready – just a small pause before Yamato guided himself inside Kirihara, white hot sparks flying behind his eyes from the immediate stimulation of over-sensitive skin. Muscles in his abdomen tightened with a sudden feeling like he was falling; stomach jumping and breath returning to him in one quick gasp. He exhaled with a shuddering breath that echoed down his skin from shoulders to toes.
Situated, he stressed once more, “Try to relax,” though his own voice was taught with tension. Speaking those words, he carefully withdrew partway before thrusting back in, sending a second gut-wrenching wave of pleasure through his body, and enticing a guttural groan from his lips. He started slowly, but with each movement, he and Akaya began to develop rhythm.
A small whine at the lose of the contact escaped parted lips, but soon enough Yamato's lips were on his own, distracting... kissing was probably Akaya's most favourite activity, as random as the thought was. The words about relaxing went completely past him... just how could he relax any more? All doubts about it were cleared though, when the man entered him.
First, desperate thought, was takeitouttakeitouttakeitout! It wasn't as much uncomfortable, as simply painful. Annoyingly enough the energy was set on doubling any sensation for him. Pleasure and pain. So this time the boy took the words to heart and willed himself to relax as much as he could...
And then Yamato started moving. And then... there was no pain, just that strong, tingling feeling in his gut of something building up. Only the pleasure that made his mind fall apart.
Kirihara pulled the older mutant down for another kiss, lips sliding to the cheek then, tasting the sweat, down to the neck, nipping and licking. Legs warped tightly around his lover's waist, arms around his neck, holding him close. He was doing, not thinking, just like his hips moved a bit up and forward, receiving the thrusts.
Similarly the older of the pair was well lost in movement -- thought escaping him entirely with each double pleasure of the warmth he drove into and the alternating abuse and soothing kisses applied to his neck. The man found himself with a mouthful of black curls, though his mind drifted far from that; one hand firmly pressed into Kirihara's lower back -- sticking in slick sweat -- to help keep him steady, the other closing once more around his lover's erection, moving in jerky rising and falling motions as his own movements became erratic.
His brain began to fog over -- lost deep within intense sensations, he felt like a film stood between the cognitive and the physical, leaving him focusing too intently on crawling hands on his skin, the noises being torn from Akaya's throat, as though by force -- the familiar shudder and calm of release overcoming the boy with a choked cry. Yamato followed only moments later, dropping away into shudders of nervous release.
The intensity, the little something that was building up low in his abdomen, broke into hundreds of tiny little pieces. Sharp, but at the same time gentle like a brush of butterfly's wings, filling his body. Melting away, leaving a feeling not known to the boy before. Contented, safe... happy.
The release left Akaya breathless, gasping for breath. His mind trying to pull itself back together, memorizing the sensations... the weight of the man, pressing him into the mattress, crushing him a bit, but even so he didn't want for either of them to move, the feeling of Yamato still inside him, their heavy breathing... and the heart beating wildly like there's no tomorrow.
A moment, Yamato lingered there, comfortably, shifting only to press their lips together in an almost chaste meeting of the lips -- no more than a silent, if not needless, reminder of the words he had spoken not long before. Slowly, he moved away, shifting to offer up his own arms and his chest for Akaya to rest, rather than crushing the other's smaller body under his greater weight and size.
Curling up, half on the man, half still on the bed, Akaya pressed his face into Yamato's neck with a sigh. He felt sticky and definitely wanted a bath, but for now he settled on resting for a bit. There was nothing to be said, the boy thought and only nuzzled the neck.
Eyes closed peacefully as his breathing began to even out, Yamato could not help the fleeting thought that he wanted nothing more than to bathe, and that they would both regret it if they did not just do that. The thought was dismissed almost immediately with a serene smile as he held Akaya loosely; he had not the energy to hold him any closer.
Minutes ticked away in comfortable warmth and silence; the man would have even been happy to let that continue on, but he was beginning to get tired, and he did want to get himself clean before falling asleep. "Akaya," he murmured, pressing a kiss into the boy's hair, straw-like from the drying sweat. "We both need a shower."
Akaya purred quietly and nodded his head, speaking up, "Yeah, but I want a bath after too." He hoped the implication came through, and Yamato understood what he meant. With such thought he rolled over and unfortunately counted the distance to the edge of the bed wrongly; with a thud and a loud groan Kirihara hit the floor. Not only was his butt sore from their previous activities, and now this. But the bath! He sat on the floor and slowly got up, feeling the muscles in his behind. Well, it didn't hurt that much.
A sudden laugh tore from Yamato's lips – between the comment and Kirihara falling off the bed, it could not be helped. He pushed himself up to a sit, chuckling away the remainder of his amusement, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, coming to a stand. "I'll go start the water," he offered, as a means of accepting Akaya's proposition.
Perhaps because he was blind, or simply by his nature alone, Yamato was always comfortable with his own nudity; for many, it was something that came with things age, maturity, or sexual experience, but he simply had never thought much of it; especially not in this particular situation. He paused only to grab Akaya for another kiss – one that left behind plenty of promises on Akaya's lips – before disappearing into the bathroom.
Most of the time Akaya had no problems with nudity either, unless in a situation like before, but now he didn't care. Besides, they were both guys; it wasn't like they had something they hadn't seen already. And after all, Yamato was blind.
The kiss left the boy a bit dazed. He stood in the middle of the room for a while, trying to get his mind back together again. When he finally did, as fast as he could, Kirihara cleaned up the mess they made. Folding the clothes, making the bed – aha – and Luis was sleeping peacefully in the laundry basket. Good that she was sleeping; Akaya would rather not have any spectators. Even in the form of a kitten. No way.
Leaving the little creature in the basket, the younger mutant made his way to the bathroom as well. Being careful of the doorstep, to not trip again.
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