液体の説得

(Ekitai no settoku)
by Torino Koji
illustrated by chaosraven

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/56775.html)

In the six months that Yamagawa Buki had been ‘seeing’ Torisu Hanabi, he had never seen the third-year junior high student in his school uniform. He supposed it only made sense: he rarely saw Torisu-kun within school hours (generally, they met up in parks on the weekend), and when he did it was usually during his school hours, not Torisu-kun’s—which had been a shock, the first time he’d seen him at the university and nearly blown their meager cover in front of his Literature professor (Torisu-kun’s father; clearly Buki was cursed).

And while Torisu-kun was comely enough in street clothes, flashing his smile and flicking the thin wisps of his hair out of his dark eyes, he was something to behold in the dark blue uniform of his school.

“Torisu-kun! What are you doing here?”

It was pouring rain out beyond the covered external hallway of Buki’s apartment building, and Torisu-kun was drenched clear to the skin, the gakuran clinging close to his skin.

“My, my father won’t be off work for several hours,” Torisu-kun excused simply. He smiled, blushing slightly. “And my mother and siblings are all out of the house. Is it all right—that is, can I … stay over for a while?”

Buki was not entirely sure if Torisu-kun understood just how much he strained the self-control of the people around him, with his thin wrists and ankles and the hair that brushed the nape of his neck and the corners of his eyes. Buki mustered a smile for Torisu-kun (hoped it didn’t look as perverted as he felt), and opened the door for the third-year.

“I don’t have a car to take you back to your house. Not even a bike—”

“Oh, that’s fine, Yamagawa-san! I’ll ride the train.”

Buki didn’t want Torisu-kun to ride the train. Not in that uniform. There were too many dirty old perverts on those trains, ones who would gladly cop a feel on a sweet young thing like Torisu-kun.

“Yamagawa-san?”

“Uh. Do you want something to eat?” Buki cleared his throat, hoped he didn’t sound like a dirty old pervert or a suddenly pubescent teenager. Torisu-kun laughed, though, that cute little titter with the blush on his cheeks that left Buki shivering and feeling a little warm as well, smiling at the little third-year.

“I’m fine. A few of my friends took me out to eat before I headed over here.”

Oh god, there were more of them. Of course, Buki had known that. He’d even seen Torisu-kun’s friends with him before, coming around the university or seeing Torisu-kun off before he went to the movies without them—but … well, uniforms had never looked this good when he’d been in junior high. And Torisu-kun had blasphemously cute little friends.

“Something to drink?” Buki was already looking for a beer in his fridge. He’d need something to distract him from the neckline of Torisu-kun’s undershirt.

Torisu-kun peered under his arm, and finally pointed at the collected cans of Asahi toward the back. He smiled like a devil.

“May I?”

“Torisu-sensei will kill me,” Buki muttered, but he pulled out an extra can and handed it to Torisu-kun anyway. He strode past the third-year, made sure he didn’t stare at the younger teen’s smiling face and bright eyes, and collapsed onto the couch. As Torisu-kun popped his head into the sitting room, Buki sat up properly, suddenly far too aware of his baggy, stained shirt and the boxers he’d stripped to after getting off work.

He cleared his throat. “So,” he began, “When are you expected home?”

Torisu-kun shrugged. “My mother told me to call if I was going to be after ten.” He fidgeted with the bottom hem of his jacket. His can of beer was still closed, and Buki wondered if Torisu-kun had only asked for it to look ‘cool’ for him.

“Are you … planning to stay out that long?”

Torisu-kun looked up at him with worried doe eyes. He was blushing like a mad thing. “Would that be all right, Yamagawa-san?”

The color of Torisu-kun’s wrists was much paler than the color of his neck. Buki caught himself staring and cleared his throat, looking away. What was he thinking? They’d never even kissed, and he was thinking of pulling the third-year off to sleep with him? What was wrong with him?

“Uh, yeah. Do you want to watch television?”

Torisu-kun smiled and walked quickly from the entryway to the kitchen to the couch. He sat delicately, then flopped against Buki’s side. It was all Buki could do not to pull closer. The uniform was stiff and a little itchy—wool, perhaps?—against the inside of his arm. Torisu-kun grabbed the remote for the television and turned it on, flipping through the channels with the ease of a young teenager.

Settling on some cartoon that Buki couldn’t name easily, he sighed and set the remote aside. Then, after a second, he nestled back harder against Buki’s side. His beer can gave a soft hiss as he opened it—and that reminded Buki that his was still closed, too. He opened his quickly and took a heavy swig of it.

Against him, Torisu-kun shuddered and coughed.

“Hey. Are you all right, Torisu-kun?”

“Ah, yes,” he assured softly. He smiled over his shoulder at Buki. The beer had made his upper lip a little glossy. “I’ve just never drunk beer before. It’s much bitterer than I had expected.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Buki said mindlessly, staring at Torisu-kun’s lips and feeling the rub of the uniform against his skin. He wanted to feel it under his fingers, taste those lips, see if the rest of Torisu-kun’s skin was the color of his wrists or his neck—

Torisu-kun’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and it took Buki a second to realize that he’d set their beers aside, that he’d turned himself a little, and was leaning over Torisu-kun. “Yamagawa-san—?”

“Why did you come here, Torisu-kun?”

“I, I told you, Yamagawa-san,” Torisu-kun began, voice soft and trembling. “I needed somewhere to go.”

“But why me?” He brushed his knuckles against Torisu-kun’s soft, pliant cheek, leaned in closer than he should have. “You could have gone with any of your little friends. But you came here. In your … uniform. Soaking.”

“Yamagawa-san, what are you saying?”

Buki made himself stare at the neckline of Torisu-kun’s undershirt, but that was no safer than staring at his parted, glistening lips. The cartoon droned on the television, a forgotten entertainment.

Torisu-kun’s fingers were soft and childish, thin and tender, tilting Buki’s chin up until their eyes met. He was blushing bright-red, his eyes sparkling with some sort of surprised understanding.

Instead of saying whatever it was he’d realized, he whispered into the air between them, “One of my friends—Miyuki—she has these manga. Sometimes, she lets me borrow them. My mother doesn’t let me have them in the house, doesn’t like them any more than my brother Chihiro’s … than Chihiro’s hentai …”

Buki blinked stupidly for a second.

Then, before he realized it, he had pitched himself away from Torisu-kun in what he hoped was not a show of insanity.

“We’re not doing anything!” he assured insistently. Torisu-kun blinked at him. Buki stared back—or tried. The uniform caught Buki’s attention again, all disheveled, and then he was staring at Torisu-kun’s delicate wrists and thinking that he’d been reading something dirty, that he wasn’t this perfect, innocent little boy.

He shook his head, and continued, “We’re not doing anything like that. Because you’re fifteen. And I’m not!”

“Most, most of the couples in the manga weren’t the same age either.”

Buki knew that. He probably owned the same damn manga as this Miyuki girl. He probably owned more than she did.

“Torisu-kun.” He couldn’t touch that fabric and look at the way it rumpled under his hands. “Torisu-kun, you’re four years younger than I am. And your parents would kill me!”

“Nobody would know, right? You wouldn’t go around boasting. And, and I couldn’t tell anybody. I wouldn’t tell anybody.” Torisu-kun bit his lip. “Not even my dolls.”

Why did Torisu-kun have to be so damn innocent and sweet and cute—and that damn uniform wasn’t helping anything!

“Maybe it’d be better if I took you back to your house, Torisu-kun.”

“Nobody’s home,” Torisu-kun reminded. Buki refrained from swearing. He needed Torisu-kun out of his apartment. He needed to hide in his bedroom until the image of Torisu-kun reading those dirty things left his mind.

He needed to beat off to the thought of Torisu-kun slowly taking off that uniform.

“Yamagawa-san?”

“What?” He didn’t mean to sound harsh. Maybe he hadn’t. Torisu-kun had his legs spread; he leaned forward, his hands between his legs. His eyelids fluttered slightly.

“May I call you by your first name, Yamagawa-san? May I call you Buki?”

“Torisu-kun—”

“And, and will you call me Hanabi, Yamagawa-san—Buki?”

Buki couldn’t think about this. He was not going to think about this. “We need to get you off. Dried off!” Torisu-kun giggled very softly, blushing so darkly Buki thought he might ignite soon. “You’re wet. From the rain. Go shower and get dried off.”

“Thank you. Buki-san.”

Buki stared at the wall as he heard his shower start running in the next room, and wondered what he was going to do. It had been something else, when Torisu-kun had just been nice and sweet and innocent, unassuming and unknowing of what others were thinking of him. But now, with that pseudo-confession and that uncertain smile—

And with that uniform.

The top of Buki’s can crumpled under his death grip. Damnit, Torisu-kun was going to turn him into a dirty old pervert.

He cleaned up, because that was safe. The beer would go flat if left out or in the refrigerator, so he begrudgingly wasted it to the sink, and then there was nothing else to do. The shower was still running.

In the bedroom, he sat on the bed, feeling under-dressed (even knowing Torisu-kun was naked), and wondered why he had such strange luck.

When the bathroom door opened, he told himself it hadn’t been his best idea to sit on the bed. Torisu-kun was still soaked (but did look less water-logged) and was wrapped in one of Buki’s towels; what would have been scant for Buki practically swamped Torisu-kun. He giggled a little as he stepped into the room.

“I don’t have any other clothes, Buki-san.”

“Let’s throw your uniform into the drier, and then we can see if I have anything, all right?” Torisu-kun nodded and followed Buki around, still wrapped in the towel. Buki made sure to turn up the heat a little, too. It was still raining outside, loud with the television now off.

Torisu-kun sat on the bed when they went back to the bedroom. He wouldn’t look up at Buki.

“Tori—” Buki started, but he stopped himself and corrected, “Hanabi. I’m not going to do anything.”

“Even if I want you to?”

Torisu-kun didn’t know what he wanted. Buki shook his head a little. “You’re still very young. Give it a couple of years before you decide things like this.”

The towel slipped from Torisu-kun’s shoulders. He let it pool around his waist; his chest, at least, was the same creamy color as his wrists. Slowly, his knees came apart. He still couldn’t quite look at Buki.

And before Buki realized what the hell he was doing, he was standing over Torisu-kun, pushing him slowly back onto the bed. Then the little third-year looked at him, doe eyes surprised but pleased, cheeks stained pink and hair and body still damp from the shower.

“You know,” Buki whispered. He thought he sounded like an idiot or something, talking at a time like this. “It’s not the same as anything you’ve read.”

“I know,” Torisu-kun said. His arms lifted slowly from the bed and wrapped around Buki’s neck. “That’s because it’s with you.”

Buki was pretty sure Torisu-kun didn’t get it. He wagged a finger authoritatively, and reprimanded, “Only kissing.”

“All right.”

Torisu-kun kissed … like a third-year junior high student. His lips stayed closed for a moment, before parting for an enthusiastic tongue. Buki couldn’t help a chuckle, pulling away from the kiss. He bent in slowly, and refused to break to Torisu-kun’s attempts to deepen the kiss. Then Torisu-kun pulled away, pouting.

“Do you not want to kiss?”

Buki smiled. “We need to teach you how, first.” Torisu-kun blushed darker at that, and Buki had to remind himself that Torisu Hanabi was fifteen and clearly a virgin; a teenage boy in a situation he’d apparently wanted for some time.

He was really cute.

Buki cupped Torisu-kun’s cheek, tilting his head slightly and gently applying his lips to the third-year’s. Torisu-kun stayed dormant this time, and Buki rewarded him by pressing their lips together harder; then with another simple kiss with a swipe of tongue. Torisu-kun’s arms tightened around Buki’s shoulders, and a quiet little noise worked its way out from between their lips.

It just wasn’t fair, that was it. Teasing him and being so cute like that. Buki wondered if Torisu-kun had planned this out, but he didn’t think Torisu-kun was so mean, to plan out a seduction when he only knew about sex from the manga he’d read.

Torisu-kun pulled away from the kiss with a breathless giggle. “Buki-san,” he whispered, blinking rapidly and barely looking anywhere, “You’re heavy.”

“Oh! Sorry.” He shifted his knee against the side of the bed, braced on the mattress. Torisu-kun’s arms stayed around Buki’s neck until his elbows locked as Buki stretched up a bit, prepared to lift himself up and off of the third-year’s slight body. After a second of staring at Torisu-kun’s embarrassed expression, Buki smiled and dove back for a kiss.

He found Torisu-kun’s hips easily. The skin was soft and warm under his palms. Torisu-kun made a soft, startled noise as Buki slid off the bed, dragging him along. The third-year’s knees collided with the floor on either side of Buki’s thighs, and Buki pulled back from the kiss again.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh. Yes.” Torisu-kun smiled. Buki returned the smile, and skated his knuckles along Torisu-kun’s cheek once more. The skin was no longer tacky and cool from the rain water. The smile on the third-year’s face turned a little mischievous when he asked, “Am I better at kissing now?”

“Better,” Buki agreed, then tapped the end of Torisu-kun’s nose, “but you could do with a bit more practice.”

But Torisu-kun resisted the next kiss Buki tried to deliver, and at Buki’s concerned expression he blushed deeply, and pressed his forehead to Buki’s shoulder. Buki shifted his arms, wrapping them around Torisu-kun’s waist and embracing him carefully. There were no tears, though, only Torisu-kun’s soft breath on his shoulder and the slow way he inched forward on Buki’s lap.

“Hanabi? Are you sure you’re all right?”

Torisu-kun’s arms came slowly away from Buki’s neck. His left ghosted only as far as Buki’s shoulder, while the other tripped slowly down, down, down.

Buki couldn’t bring himself to stop Torisu-kun before he did something stupid and foolish and virginal, and so he flinched slightly at the first gentle touch of Torisu-kun’s palm. Torisu-kun left his hand where it was for a second, staring at Buki sincerely, before beginning a slow drag of his palm.

There was no smothering the swearing now. Torisu-kun actually squealed when Buki grabbed him under the thighs and hauled them both off the floor; his hand didn’t move from between Buki’s legs, though his left arm did return to a protective clamp around Buki’s neck. His breath shivered against Buki’s neck when they hit the mattress.

“What, what happened to just kissing?” Torisu-kun chided innocently.

“Your own fault,” Buki hissed back, but delivered a kiss despite his words. Torisu-kun’s hand stilled—probably because of the new angle they were at—so Buki slowly slithered his hand down to retrieve Torisu-kun’s. The third-year’s hands were so tiny, he noticed when he pulled away from the kiss; all of him was so tiny.

What if he—?

“Are you sure this is okay?” Buki asked, and hoped he didn’t sound as needy as he felt. Not that it mattered at this point whether he sounded needy or not, with their bodies pressed close. Torisu-kun still nodded insistently at the question, so Buki shoved aside his meagerly objecting conscience.

Torisu-kun’s mouth felt almost hot now, all the kissing they’d done, so he focused on that as he worked at getting his shirt and boxers off. Now, Torisu-kun’s hands were idle on the bedspread, splaying and twisting the pillowcase and the comforter; his eyes were glued shut, the slightest glimmer—and Buki didn’t know if those were tears or shower water or rain water—on his lashes; and his legs were spreading wide and wanton, leaving Buki kneeling between them while Torisu-kun appeared unaware of his debauched appearance.

Buki couldn’t quite stop staring, and was glad he knew just where he kept things like lube and condoms and could find them by touch by now, because if he had to leave the bed now, he didn’t think he’d be able to get back on and do this.

Torisu-kun looked over when the items were dumped unceremoniously beside his head, but Buki tilted his chin back and found his mouth again, distracting him from any second thoughts he might have after seeing … well, anything in that pile, really. Buki had never seen anything quite like what he kept in his bedside drawer in those manga Torisu-kun had apparently used to learn about sex.

This wasn’t the time for second thoughts, anyway.

Torisu-kun yelped softly, breaking the kiss, when Buki’s hand slid down between his legs, and stared at him with fast blinking eyes, mouth working with questions. Buki smiled lopsidedly at him, and held up the hand that had snuck down.

“A—what?”

“It’s, it’s messy,” was all Buki could say, and shrugged. Torisu-kun giggled softly, and slowly reached out a hand to touch the tacky surface of the glove on Buki’s hand. It felt strange, having his palm touched through the latex; different than feeling his own skin under it. He took his hand away slowly from Torisu-kun’s fingertips, and returned it to where it had been before Torisu-kun had started at the touch.

He smiled reassuringly. “And it, it might hurt a little.”

“I know,” Torisu-kun whispered, biting his lip after the words left. Buki hummed, leaning down to steal another kiss.

Torisu-kun’s back arched just below his shoulder blades at the first cautious press of fingers. Buki kept his kisses insistent as he worked his finger in—it felt like a very long time, but he reminded himself that Torisu-kun was fifteen and needed a long time—and slowly added a second. Then, Torisu-kun made a quiet, muffled noise, annoyed and pained, and lifted a hand that slipped over Buki’s shoulder and found his back.

For having such short nails, they certainly hurt digging in. Buki pulled back with a gasp, and stilled his working fingers in favor of waiting for Torisu-kun to open his eyes and tell him what was wrong.

Torisu-kun gave only a needy noise, and dug his nails in harder. All right, not pain, then. Which Buki could have probably gathered from looking down the length of Torisu-kun’s torso, but as he did so now, it was only more needless delay that actually made Torisu-kun hiss and insistent, “Buki!” It earned him laughter, and brushed lips over his closed eyes.

Tears, gathered at the corners of Torisu-kun’s eyes. With his free hand, Buki brushed at the moisture; with the busy one, he worked in a slow third finger.

Buki gave up kissing Torisu-kun then, too intent on the noises slipping out of Torisu-kun’s mouth, the way his legs were spread, the flush on his cheeks and ears while his eyes fluttered open and shut.

Torisu-kun collapsed, spent, with a short cry. Buki smiled when he started after a second.

“Ah!”

“It’s fine,” Buki assured, shaking his head a little. Torisu-kun’s gaze went from his face to his waist and back. Buki pulled his hand from between Torisu-kun’s legs, leaned in to kiss him as he striped off the glove, then patted him consolingly on the thigh. “Go shower.”

“Buki-san, I, I’m sorry,” Torisu-kun whispered. Buki laughed, smiled, and kissed him again. Then, he pushed him off the bed, and pointed authoritatively toward the bathroom. Torisu-kun scampered away, still looking embarrassed.

The drier dinged merrily elsewhere. Buki pulled his shirt on, and was thankful it covered almost to the middle of his thighs.

The dark blue of the uniform felt much softer when it wasn’t wet. Buki lifted it slowly to his nose, and inhaled the smell of the fabric softener and of Torisu-kun’s skin. His whole body pulsed sympathetically.

Torisu-kun was going to turn him into a dirty old pervert.

—–

It was pouring rain out beyond the covered external hallway of Buki’s apartment building, and Torisu-kun was drenched clear to the skin. He smiled and adjusted the bottom hem of his jacket. Buki grinned lopsidedly and didn’t worry if he was leering.

“Would you like something to drink, Hanabi?”

illustrated by chaosraven

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