by Kubaru Suki (少年好き 配る)
illustrated by eisenkleid
“…so if the sophomore year is intent on not separating by class, those are your options for the Cultural Festival, Representative Biwa,” Hinai Ikuo, student body President, said shuffling his papers and moving onto the next order of business without even waiting for a nod. “Now, since the junior and senior years have already decided their projects—”
The door to the council room swished open, cutting across his words. “Yo.”
All heads in the room swiveled and Ikuo ground his teeth together for a moment before speaking in a very calm and cool tone. “Vice President Mawatari, are you aware that this meeting started over an hour and a half ago?”
Mawatari shrugged and sprawled out in his chair at the other end of the student council room. “Yup.” He put his feet up on the table, jerked the knot out of his tie, and smiled. “I was out back sneaking a smoke.”
Ikuo closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the view at the opposite end of the table. “Mawatari, as a member of the student government, as its vice president as a matter of fact, it behooves you—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mawatari waved him off. “Substance abuse and rules and being a good boy, I know.” He smiled and a good portion of the council blushed and fluttered.
There was nobody, no person anywhere at anytime ever, who got to Ikuo more than Mawatari Ryo. Mawatari was only a junior but had been made vice president because the entire school treated him like some sort of idol star. Probably because he looked like some sort of idol star, with his stylishly tousled hair and his artfully disheveled state of dress, uniform jacket slung over his shoulder, loosened tie, and untucked shirt. He never hurried if he could be lazy and he was never properly respectful to anybody if he could get away with it.
They couldn’t have been more opposite if the principal had told them to be. Ikuo knew that the secret to success was to be prompt if not early, to be impeccably groomed, and that the rules of the game were the most important part. He hadn’t been made the student body vice-president in his junior year (the first ever junior vice president) just by looking like a schoolboy idol star; he had been elected to it, and then to president, because he’d earned it.
And somehow the fact that they would have gone together like oil and water did nothing to make Ikuo want Mawatari Ryo any less. It drove him crazy that he wanted him so badly. Not just his body, all lithe, lazy grace, but him, his personality and his presence and his flippant, casual, happy rudeness. The only thing that eased the sting of craving the school’s most sought-after student was the fact that, as student council president, Ikuo commanded more respect than anybody else and he got it. With that firmly in mind he leveled his best stare at Mawatari’s unrepentant grin. “After this meeting is over you and I are going to have a discussion regarding the regulations of this school,” he announced quietly. The assorted representatives winced and gave Mawatari sympathetic looks.
Mawatari smiled again. “If you want my tie tied you can do it yourself,” he said cheerfully. “And I wasn’t actually sneaking smokes; I went to the vending room for some candy.” He stretched, his shirt riding up to show a sliver of moon-pale skin as he rummaged in the pockets of his trousers for a long moment before coming up with a cherry lollipop. He unwrapped it with deliberate slowness and popped it into his mouth, tucking it into his cheek. “And while I was there, I got ambushed by the art club.”
“You’re the president of the art club,” Ikuo reminded him. “And I see no bearing—”
“Nudes,” Mawatari said, smiling serenely around the stick of his lollipop.
Ikuo fought the urge to strangle his vice president. “Nudes?” he asked dryly.
Mawatari nodded and rolled the lollipop into his other cheek. “Nudes,” he repeated happily. “The art club would like to do an exhibit of nudes for the festival.”
There was a round of shocked gasps and scandalized tittering which Ikuo ignored and Mawatari didn’t even seem to notice. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” Mawatari sounded genuinely curious.
Ikuo really wanted to strangle him. He wanted to crawl across the table and throttle him. Really. Sitting in his lap to get a good grip on his neck had nothing at all to do with it. “Because nudes are naked people, that’s why.”
“No they’re not,” Mawatari said sounding patient and logical even as he pulled the candy out of his mouth with a slurping pop. “There’s a long and glorious tradition of nudes in classical art. Nudes are a celebration of the human body.”
“The naked human body. No.”
Mawatari tapped the head of his lollipop against his lower lip. “What about conceptualized nudes?” he asked, giving the cherry pop a lick.
“What,” the hell, he silently omitted, “are ‘conceptualized’ nudes?”
Mawatari beamed as though glad that Ikuo had asked. “They’re nudes without the ‘naked bodies’,” he explained, miming quotation marks. “Instead of painting your body as your body it’d be your body as a concept. Like…flowers.”
Ikuo knew he was going to be sorry he asked. “Flowers?”
“Yeah. A tangle of flowers lying in the grass. White clovers for your skin, peach blossoms petals for your blush. Hydrangeas for your eyes. Well.” Mawatari’s head tipped to the side, that stupid lollipop going tap, tap, tap at his lip again. “Not hydrangeas. Not for your eyes, anyway. Violets. A hollyhock for your—”
“NO.” Ikuo slammed his folder shut knowing that he probably really was peach-blossom pink. “The art club will not be having nudes.”
“I could use ice-cream if you’d rather. French vanilla, a drizzle of strawberry syrup, some cherries, a spoon of course, a little whipped cream,” Mawatari listed, eyes and smile roving over him with consideration and amusement. “Sprawled indolently in one of those old fashioned, footed banana split dishes…”
“I repeat: the art club will not be having nudes. In any form.” Ikuo glared around at the obviously amused representatives and hoped that his blush would be put down to anger rather than a sudden, hot, spike of lust. “Biwa, the sophomore year will need to have a decision by the meeting next week. Same goes,” he switched his glare from the properly chastised council members to Mawatari, whose feet were tapping out an idle beat against the air, “for the art club. Until then, meeting adjourned.”
Mawatari stayed in his seat as the other representatives left and Ikuo was beginning to regret telling him to stay. “So…” Mawatari said as the last person hurried out the door. He hooked a foot around the table leg and stretched over the back of his chair in order to shut the door, pulling the table a good three feet away from Ikuo and exposing several handbreadths of Mawatari’s skin at the same time. He sat forward again with a thump, his feet landing on the floor. “About my state of dress,” he said, tugging the lollipop out of his mouth and swiping the tip of his tongue across the top of it.
“It’s about school regulations,” Ikuo corrected, his eyes stuck on the lollipop like carpet fuzz. “And quit being obscene with that candy.”
Mawatari smiled, his tongue touching the stick before curling suggestively around the red-candy top. “Bothers you?”
Ikuo forced himself not to close his eyes. “No. It’s rude.”
Across the table, Mawatari sucked hard enough that his cheeks hollowed.
“Knock it off,” he snapped.
“Bothers you,” Mawatari said, sounding satisfied. He stood without pushing his chair back in and sauntered over, stopping only when his knee pressed firmly against Ikuo’s own. “You can have a lick, if you want,” he said, offering out the lollipop. It gleamed red and shiny in the fluorescent light.
“No, thank you. I don’t want a lick,” Ikuo said, swallowing hard, severely tempted.
“You keep staring at it. I don’t mind sharing,” Mawatari said, smiling a candy-colored smile. “Really. It’s really tasty,” he added, waving it enticingly. “You’ll like it.”
“I will not. No, I—” his protest was cut off by the lollipop being pushed into his mouth. He accepted it automatically. It was tasty; incredibly sweet, but there was something else—another, sharper, flavor mingled with the artificial cherry flavor. He ran his tongue over it, trying to identify the other taste. Wintergreen, he decided at last, from the gum that Mawatari favored. Mawatari was the only person who could get away with chewing gum during classes.
Mawatari was looking at him, satisfaction tipping a smile across his lips. “Interesting. You move straight from ‘no’ to ‘let’s go’.
Ikuo decided to ignore that statement; there wasn’t much he could do to deny it and he didn’t want Mawatari to try applying that statement to anything other than the candy. It was bad enough that Ikuo knew he was hard. He didn’t need Mawatari to know it, too. He pushed Mawatari’s hand away, doing his best to ignore the thin strand of saliva that connected his mouth to Mawatari’s candy. “That’s disgusting,” he said disapprovingly, doing his best to not watch the way the other boy sucked on the lollipop without even bothering to wipe it off.
“And yet…,” Mawatari ran his tongue suggestively around the head of the lollipop,” you like it.”
His only option, Ikuo decided, was to make a tactical retreat. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, Vice President Mawatari,” he said dismissively, using a tried and true council trick. “If you’ll excuse me?” he said as he made to stand.
Mawatari countered by shifting so that the knee that had been resting against Ikuo’s own was suddenly nudging at his groin, startling and immediate. “Anybody else would have offered themselves to me on a silver platter by now.”
He pressed harder and Ikuo hissed under his breath. “How lovely for you,” he said archly. “Why don’t you find somebody who’s got a platter? Now, if you don’t mind…”
“I don’t want one of them,” Mawatari said companionably, straddling Ikuo’s lap. “While I don’t mind having the world handed to me, I do like having to work for it from time to time.” He wriggled. “I like you,” he drew the word out, licking his candy around it.
“And?” Ikuo said calmly, clenching his folders tightly so that he wouldn’t grab Mawatari and do…something…anything…to him. The heat and weight of the other boy was nearly unbearable and distracting in the extreme.
Mawatari smiled serenely. “And I think that you like me too,” he pronounced.
Ikuo lifted his eyebrows. “So?” He hoped he came off as unaffected and uninterested, despite his inability to come up with a multi-word sentence and his insistent erection.
“There’s that look of yours,” Mawatari murmured, making a soft sound in the back of his throat that went straight to Ikuo’s head. The lower one. “So cool, so aloof. Upstanding and uptight. You’re such a pain in the ass,” Mawatari said, drawing the lollipop over Ikuo’s lips.
“Charming,” he said drolly. Some part of Ikuo informed him that he should push Mawatari off of his lap and hope he cracked his skull open on the council-room table. The rest of Ikuo merely raised one eyebrow even higher while mangling his folders in a death-grip behind his back. He could feel the sticky residue from the candy on his mouth, making his lips cling together slightly as he spoke. He licked them to get rid of it and Mawatari made that noise again. “And you wonder why I’m not swooning at your feet, you say?”
“There you go again,” Mawatari tilted a smile at him, easygoing and sweet. “You make me crazy, you know,” he informed him. “I paint you.” He pursed his lips and slowly pushed the lollipop into his mouth before popping it out again. “I paint you and I stare at you and I go crazy wondering why I like you so much, want you so bad. And…” he pressed the lollipop to his lips in a gesture that looked absurdly like a kiss before placing it, still wet from his mouth, against Ikuo’s. “And I wonder…what would I do with you if I had you?”
A good question, Ikuo mused. And, being the forward thinking individual that he was, one to which he’d given a lot of thought.
He dropped the folders, only hearing the whoosh of scattering papers with the far edge of his attention. With his hands freed, he placed one firmly over the back pocket of Mawatari’s uniform trousers and the other he wrapped around the hand holding the stick of the lollipop. Looking deeply into Mawatari’s cocoa-brown eyes he gave the head of the candy a firm lick, then swirled his tongue over it, chasing down the cherry-wintergreen taste before closing his lips around it and sucking. Rhythmically.
“That,” Mawatari’s voice was husky and he stopped to clear his throat, “that sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
Self preservation kicked his common sense in the rear end. “I swear,” Ikuo said, jerking the candy out of his mouth, “if this is some sort of sick game to you—”
Mawatari wrapped his fingers around Ikuo’s on the stick. “You’re the one who started this,” he reminded him, eyes warming with a sultry heat. “But if it helps,” he drew Ikuo’s hand up and slid the candy into his mouth until his lips closed over the tops of Ikuo’s fingers, wet and warm and soft. He drew back with a slick-sweet smile. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to give candy to,” he finished. “Your turn.”
“Your turn,” he repeated. “To reassure me that this isn’t some power-trip game to you either,” he explained, resting the head of the lollipop against Ikuo’s bottom lip.
Despite being half-blinded by lust, Ikuo could see something dark and serious in Mawatari’s half-lidded eyes. So he answered. “You are,” he said, placing a light, sucking kiss on one side of the lollipop, “the only person,” he repeated the gesture on the other side, “that I’d even consider,” he nipped the very top of it, “sharing candy with.”
“Okay. Here, hold this.” The ‘this’ turned out to be the lollipop and Ikuo let him slip it back into his mouth. Mawatari slid off of his lap, going to his knees sinuous and slow like melting wax tipping away from a candlewick.
“Wha—” Ikuo jolted as a warm hand cupped his balls before moving up to trace the shape of his arousal clearly visible beneath the fabric of his uniform trousers. He managed to say “Mawatari?” as the button was flicked open, but promptly forgot what he was going to say as his zipper lowered with a sound as mesmerizing as that of a snake-charmer’s flute. He watched in a stupefied thrall as his fly parted slowly beneath two deft and dexterous hands, long fingers playing against the rasp of the metal. It was only when those clever hands converged on the gap in his boxers which his erection has opened that Ikuo managed to have a coherent thought. As several fingers slipped inside and curled around his cock, lifting and tugging as though to bring it out, he surged to his feet.
“Very helpful of you,” Mawatari beamed up at him as he pulled Ikuo’s trousers and underpants down past his knees. “Thanks.”
Ikuo fumbled his grip on the stick of the lollipop, dragging the candy out of his mouth so he could speak. “What are you doing?” he asked, more a breathless gasp than anything else.
Mawatari gave him a coy look from underneath his lashes. “Guess,” he invited, reaching up to push the candy back into Ikuo’s mouth.
“No, I mean…” Ikuo caught the candy before it could reach his lips. “You know what I mean,” he finished lamely.
Mawatari sat back on his haunches, one hand resting warmly on the back of Ikuo’s thigh for balance. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been sexually molesting my lolly for the past ten minutes,” he explained, wrapping his other hand around the base of Ikuo’s cock, making Ikuo curl forward and clutch the table until his fingers turned purple-white at the tips. “And I’d really like to suck you off right about now. So that’s what we’re doing and why.”
“Wait,” Ikuo managed to say, struggling to think. “I live five blocks from here. Just wait and come home with me.”
Mawatari’s look was comically nonplussed. “You’re not willing to let me blow you in an empty room, in the middle of an empty building, but you’ll take me back to your place?”
“My parents aren’t home,” Ikuo said, pulling himself together. “They’re on a cruise, for their anniversary. They’re gone until next week.”
“From ‘no’ straight to ‘let’s go’,” Mawatari said, shaking his head, sly amusement gleaming in his eyes. “All right, your place it is. Let me get you taken care of and we’ll go.”
Ikuo nodded, letting out a faint sigh of relief which earned him a wicked smirk from Mawatari. The tight, brush-calloused hold on his cock shifted and he hastily blocked a whimper with the lollipop. Looking down to see if the move had been noted, he was just in time to see Mawatari’s tongue flicker out against the head of his cock. He couldn’t help lurching forward and grabbing the edges of the table again. He bit down hard and felt the candy crack and fall apart.
On the floor, Mawatari smiled up at him sweetly. Ikuo watched in fascination as Mawatari closed the distance, his smile pressing intimately against the head of Ikuo’s shaft. He locked eyes with Mawatari as the other boy ran his tongue down one side of his length and up the other in slow, tortuous, forays. “I am going to paint you like this,” Mawatari murmured, tracing a path marked out by a large vein with the tip of his tongue. “Just like this, no ice-cream, no flowers, just you.” He rubbed his parted lips over the head. “Just you,” he repeated before taking Ikuo’s length into his mouth and sucking.
Helpless, Ikuo moaned deep in his throat; he could picture Mawatari with a brush in one hand and his cock in the other. Mawatari moaned back at him, the vibrations swamping his senses like thick, golden honey. The hand on the back of his thigh flexed and Ikuo shifted, widening his stance and rocking forward.
Mawatari’s eyes glittered up at him, dark heat melting in them as he began to bob his head, working the head of Ikuo’s cock as his hand worked the base in tandem. Ikuo clenched his jaw, feeling the candy in his mouth splinter. Mawatari’s tongue lashed at the sensitive underside of his head and Ikuo lifted one hand to touch Mawatari’s face with shaking fingers.
He let Mawatari guide him into a rhythm of shallow thrusts, both hands back on the table so that he wouldn’t just grab his head and take him, take his mouth like he wanted to. Like Mawatari’s hot-chocolate eyes were daring him to. He choked on a groan and shuddered hard.
The hands on his body suddenly disappeared, leaving cold in their wake and Mawatari pulled his mouth away. “Just a sec, I swear,” he muttered, kissing the crest of Ikuo’s hip. “I’ve gotta…I’ve just gotta get this open…” The ‘this’ turned out to be Mawatari’s pants and Ikuo crushed more of the lollipop between his teeth. “Okay, okay, god, you taste good,” Mawatari murmured.
Ikuo wanted to pull him up and kiss him. He wanted to wash away the cloying sweetness of the sugar and artificial cherry with the tang of sex and salt and Mawatari Ryo. But he could only push himself blindly forward into the soft wetness of Mawatari’s mouth and the tight heat of his hand. The grip was subtly different; tigher, bordering on painful, and less assured. Ikuo looked down to see that Mawatari had changed hands, his left was on Ikuo and his right was fisted around his own cock, jerking it in time to the movements of his mouth on Ikuo’s flesh.
It was enough. It was too much. Ikuo let go of the table to catch Mawatari’s head and hold him still. To hold him in place as he rocked his hips faster, going deeper, desperately swallowing some wild-animal sound as he shattered like a spun-sugar angel.
He let Mawatari hold him up, leaning heavily against him and breathing hard. After a few moments he worked up the energy to pull the lollipop stick out of his mouth. He studied the deep teeth marks on it before tossing it into the nearby trash can. “So.” He cleared his throat and tried again, absently stroking a hand through Mawatari’s hair. “So…I thought we were going to go to my house.”
Mawatari arched into his touch. “Yup,” he agreed, “just as soon as I took care of the situation with your pants.” Mawatari shrugged his hand off and stood, pulling Ikuo’s clothes back up with him, straightening and tucking and zipping until he was presentable again. At least, presentable by Mawatari’s standards. “And there you go,” Mawatari kissed the corner of his mouth. “All fixed,” he added, deepening the kiss.
The inside of Mawatari’s mouth tasted salty and bitter, the flavor of Ikuo’s sexual satisfaction. But faintly, layered under that, was the taste of the cherry candy and wintergreen gum and something that must have been Ryo himself. Ikuo kissed him again and again, trying to catch more of that elusive taste. “My place,” he announced coming up for air and realizing that he was rapidly getting hard again.
“Yeah,” Mawatari agreed. Then he blinked. “Wait. What about my pants? Shouldn’t we take care of that before we go?”
Ikuo looked. Mawatari’s pants were still open, with a tell-tale damp patch marking the tented-up fabric of his under shorts. “I suppose you want me to do something about that?” Ikuo asked.
Mawatari grinned at him and wrapped his arms around Ikuo’s neck. “Yeah. I mean, the whole reason I stayed late was because you wanted to give me a lecture about the way I was dressed.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Ikuo agreed. He took Mawatari’s mouth with his own as he quickly and efficiently did up his zipper, buttoned his pants, and tucked his shirt in.
“Hey!” Mawatari protested, breaking off the kiss too late to prevent Ikuo from managing a near-perfect four-in-hand knot in his tie.
Ikuo turned away and deliberately bent over to gather his scattered materials from the floor. “Put on your jacket,” he said casually, stretching for a paper that he didn’t really need to stretch all that far to reach. “It’s almost time for the gates to get locked. We can talk about your state of dress at my house.”
Behind him he heard the rustle of clothing. When he turned around Mawatari was wearing his jacket and holding open the student-council room door. “Where are you going?” he asked when Ikuo, instead of turning left towards the exit doors, went right.
“I thought I might stop by the vending room,” Ikuo said. “To get something sweet.”