Post by saro on Dec 22, 2007 13:08:47 GMT -5
I can't believe this has been sitting for over a year in my TeniPuri folder without being posted on the net. So here it is with the word 'towel' spellchecked for once:
Playing tennis in the rain was exciting. It wasn't like playing in great heat. It was cold and wet, the court slippery, every sense thrown off by the sound of pittering, the smell of damp grass, the sight of endless streaming droplets falling in lines and splashing down hard into what had already fallen. That was playing in the rain.
Only a fool would play in the rain. A young arrogant fool, too confident in his own ability, with no concern for his personal health or what the aftermath would be. That aftermath was what led to Ryoma being carried home, soaked and shivering, with a smile plastered across his face. A disrespectful 'haha, I beat you' smile, Momoshiro had thought. He would chuckle, if the lack of warmth from his soggy bundle of kouhai didn't worry him so much at the time.
It was quite alright though. It wasn't too far to his house, and if they'd done their chores on time, his two younger siblings should have ironed a towel fairly recently. A nice warm towel, fuzzy and the teensiest bit rough; the thought made Momoshiro feel warmer already. Then again, he didn't need warming up much, just drying off. He was bigger and bulkier than Ryoma Echizen, though there was only a year's difference. His excessive movements as he laughed off the aches of his muscles during the match probably kept him warmer as well, though it made him tired.
When Momoshiro got home, he had taken Ryoma to his bedroom, and ordering his brother to lay down a towel on his pillow at least, laid Ryoma down on top. He paused and turned quite suddenly with a quick fit of embarassment; considering how to warm the younger boy up. He could lay down beside him, but- but that would be too close. He could sit on the edge of the bed- no, he'd probably find there wasn't enough space to sit down without sliding off the duvet. His legs ached and he didn't want to use them to force himself to stay put there.
It was a double bed though. Not very big for a double bed, but enough room for its purpose. His parents had given it to him when they'd bought a new one, it helped with his 'rolling habits', and they were relieved of the loud thumps they'd had to endure each night before for some months. Then his body learnt to roll further to receive its random bruises in places only Momoshiro would see.
May be he could lie down too? He could rest, but not sleep. If he slept, he'd roll. Ryoma looked much too fragile to be rolled on. It might warm him up though...? No. He lied down as far to the other side of the bed as he could, his back facing Ryoma's face. It was so tempting though. 'Grin and bear it, Momo-chan, grin and bear it. Gah! But it aches!'
-
Ryoma woke to a scent he deemed pleasant. It was a mixture of fabric cleaner and something musky, not unlike an animal's scent. It couldn't of been Karupin, it wasn't as sweet or with a hint of fish or chicken liver. Most unlike Karupin was the smell of damp. A wet dog? No. He wouldn't sleep with a wet dog, and where'd a wet dog come from anyway? If it smelt a bit like an unwashed, hairy nerd who'd been surfing the net for pr0n for too long with bare feet, then it could be his dad. But that was so unlikely it was impossible. Nought percent or whatever? Afterall, there'd be the smell of that dark natural dye from the clothes he always wore. It was easy to remember these smells, because lying in the heat made them even stronger, and the mind likes to file memories of all sorts under 'unpleasant'.
This was pleasant though. Very. He took a deep breath in through his nose and felt the need to snuggle forwards with his eyes still closed. His hand reached out and met with something solid, firm and warm. The soft feel of dry clothes tight against damp skin. Whoever it was, they weren't conscious enough to refuse the touch. He blindly rubbed his hand down it as though to test what was really there, it was so very warm, unlike him. His shoulders shivered at the realisation, and he forced his muscles still by wriggling further forward. Still reluctant to open his eyes, he moved his hand again, in a more stroking motion this time, now he knew where it was roughly in his mind. He was rewarded with a grunt. A grunt he then recognised. Playing in the rain like a fool.
"Momo-senpai?" He opened an eye to see nothing but dark blue fabric.
Further up the surface he was lying on came an unintelligable mumble, and shortly after the figure beneath the blue fabric shifted and Ryoma found himself scrambling backwards as the other boy rolled onto his back. A long, heavy leg rested itself awkwardly on top of Ryoma's. A feeling of awkwardness came over Ryoma as a long snoring breath came from beside him. He looked diagonally, upwards, towards where the sound was being emited, there he saw Momoshiro fast asleep. Looking back down he saw a hand half-rested on his senpai's stomach, the arm seemed to be itching to stretch out across the bed, but was subconsciously held back. Momoshiro was trying very hard not to take over all the space, he probably was only half-asleep, but considering it, Ryoma concluded that it was hard to tell.
Something violet glinted and Ryoma was caught off-guard by an open eye; may be he was thinking too hard? His head ached, so it was quite a strain.
"Hgnn... Echizen, you're awake." Momoshiro groaned as he reached up with his itching arm to scratch his head, odd water droplets spraying as he absent-mindedly gave his spikey hair a fast, but light brush over its tips.
'Wet dog,' Ryoma thought to himself with a hint of disgust, glaring at Momoshiro as he yawned. Momoshiro sat up and looked over at him and he immediately switched back to a more neutral expression, though his large eyes still bore a deep hole, making Momoshiro feel uncomfortable.
"You, feeling any better?" Momoshiro asked slowly. "I mean, you were pretty bad, when you collapsed I mean! I carried you-!" He then explained hurriedly.
"Hm." Replied Ryoma, showing little interest in the explaination.
Momoshiro looked down to distract his gaze, and caught sight of his stray leg, still laid out over Ryoma's. He snatched it back, blushing and directing an apologetic grin at the younger boy. Receiving no reply, his smile faded to a puzzled look.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
"Great. Then-"
"My hair's still wet." Ryoma stared out blankly at the wall opposite him.
"Ah! Well, there's a towel-!" Momoshiro said enthusiastically, reaching out to grab it, only to realise Ryoma was partly sitting on it, since he had sat up too. He blushed and looked away.
"Hmph."
There was an awkward silence.
"If you got up, I could use the towel to dry your hair for you..." Momoshiro offered.
Without a word, Ryoma shuffled forward on the bed, allowing Momoshiro access to the towel. Assuming this was a yes, Momoshiro took the towel, and sitting himself behind the other boy's smaller body, his legs hanging off the edge, cautiously placed the towel over Ryoma's head. With no objections he started to rub with the towel until he felt the fabric become damp. He held the towel on his lap as he admired his work.
"Better?" He asked.
There was another moment of silence, and Momoshiro could almost feel the tense atmosphere on his aching limbs. He really quite disliked how Ryoma took control of every situation they were alone in. No matter how it seemed to on-lookers, Momoshiro knew that everything depended on whether Ryoma spoke, and what he did say when he spoke. Then there was the complicated calculations of the replies and come backs you'd make in return, how Ryoma reacted to those, if he did; the whole thing made his head hurt more than that time Inui tried making alcoholic juice!
"I'm still cold, Momo-senpai."
Momoshiro was snapped out of his thoughts by a trembling tone of voice. The shock took him back a bit, he was used to Ryoma sounding harsh and too mature; not cute and submissive. Or at least his brain told him it was submissive, which then led to a conspiracy of fooling him into a particular position in time for a family member to walk in and then seeing eachother would be-
A small hand clutched a handful of his shirt and large gold eyes stared up at him. Another hand moved across and up his right thigh. Momoshiro could feel his heart racing now, and his face turning red. Was it the damp from the rain or sweat on his face? Was this leading up to a hot and passionate kiss? No, Momo, don't go that far just yet.
His lips quivered and he put a hand on the other boy's back, in return Ryoma moved himself onto Momoshiro's lap and started using the most helpless, desperate puppy eyes Momoshiro had ever seen. Was the humidity condenser on the fritz or was it him? Boy, is it hard to breathe right all of a sudden. Dokidokidoki. Damn, he's so close. Those lips-
Momoshiro leaned in to meet them.
"Mada mada dane." He was greeted by a cruel smirk.
Momoshiro gritted his teeth, glaring down menacingly and suddenly found himself feeling like he was lost in a blizzard, and that that blizzard was somehow some little brat's fault entirely. The little brat snuggled against his now-fairly-damp shirt and closed his eyes.
"Uaa~" Ryoma yawned cutely, "oyasumi." He nuzzled close against the older boy's warmth.
"W-wait, what?!" Momoshiro was in the mood to bite heads, not forget the whole tease and say 'oh look how cute'.
"Tired. Anyway, I'd rather sleep with a wet dog than kiss its slobbery maw."
Momoshiro sighed, "I suppose I could let it slide, just this once. But who's idea was it to play in the rain?"
"... Yours, senpai." Came a yawned reply with added nestling.
"R-really? I thou-"
"Yours. Senpai."
Two fools playing in the rain, or one fool playing with a wet dog - what difference is there?
I still don't like the last sentence, but otherwise this would be one of 234234802948 fanfics of mine to end with no conclusion.
Playing tennis in the rain was exciting. It wasn't like playing in great heat. It was cold and wet, the court slippery, every sense thrown off by the sound of pittering, the smell of damp grass, the sight of endless streaming droplets falling in lines and splashing down hard into what had already fallen. That was playing in the rain.
Only a fool would play in the rain. A young arrogant fool, too confident in his own ability, with no concern for his personal health or what the aftermath would be. That aftermath was what led to Ryoma being carried home, soaked and shivering, with a smile plastered across his face. A disrespectful 'haha, I beat you' smile, Momoshiro had thought. He would chuckle, if the lack of warmth from his soggy bundle of kouhai didn't worry him so much at the time.
It was quite alright though. It wasn't too far to his house, and if they'd done their chores on time, his two younger siblings should have ironed a towel fairly recently. A nice warm towel, fuzzy and the teensiest bit rough; the thought made Momoshiro feel warmer already. Then again, he didn't need warming up much, just drying off. He was bigger and bulkier than Ryoma Echizen, though there was only a year's difference. His excessive movements as he laughed off the aches of his muscles during the match probably kept him warmer as well, though it made him tired.
When Momoshiro got home, he had taken Ryoma to his bedroom, and ordering his brother to lay down a towel on his pillow at least, laid Ryoma down on top. He paused and turned quite suddenly with a quick fit of embarassment; considering how to warm the younger boy up. He could lay down beside him, but- but that would be too close. He could sit on the edge of the bed- no, he'd probably find there wasn't enough space to sit down without sliding off the duvet. His legs ached and he didn't want to use them to force himself to stay put there.
It was a double bed though. Not very big for a double bed, but enough room for its purpose. His parents had given it to him when they'd bought a new one, it helped with his 'rolling habits', and they were relieved of the loud thumps they'd had to endure each night before for some months. Then his body learnt to roll further to receive its random bruises in places only Momoshiro would see.
May be he could lie down too? He could rest, but not sleep. If he slept, he'd roll. Ryoma looked much too fragile to be rolled on. It might warm him up though...? No. He lied down as far to the other side of the bed as he could, his back facing Ryoma's face. It was so tempting though. 'Grin and bear it, Momo-chan, grin and bear it. Gah! But it aches!'
-
Ryoma woke to a scent he deemed pleasant. It was a mixture of fabric cleaner and something musky, not unlike an animal's scent. It couldn't of been Karupin, it wasn't as sweet or with a hint of fish or chicken liver. Most unlike Karupin was the smell of damp. A wet dog? No. He wouldn't sleep with a wet dog, and where'd a wet dog come from anyway? If it smelt a bit like an unwashed, hairy nerd who'd been surfing the net for pr0n for too long with bare feet, then it could be his dad. But that was so unlikely it was impossible. Nought percent or whatever? Afterall, there'd be the smell of that dark natural dye from the clothes he always wore. It was easy to remember these smells, because lying in the heat made them even stronger, and the mind likes to file memories of all sorts under 'unpleasant'.
This was pleasant though. Very. He took a deep breath in through his nose and felt the need to snuggle forwards with his eyes still closed. His hand reached out and met with something solid, firm and warm. The soft feel of dry clothes tight against damp skin. Whoever it was, they weren't conscious enough to refuse the touch. He blindly rubbed his hand down it as though to test what was really there, it was so very warm, unlike him. His shoulders shivered at the realisation, and he forced his muscles still by wriggling further forward. Still reluctant to open his eyes, he moved his hand again, in a more stroking motion this time, now he knew where it was roughly in his mind. He was rewarded with a grunt. A grunt he then recognised. Playing in the rain like a fool.
"Momo-senpai?" He opened an eye to see nothing but dark blue fabric.
Further up the surface he was lying on came an unintelligable mumble, and shortly after the figure beneath the blue fabric shifted and Ryoma found himself scrambling backwards as the other boy rolled onto his back. A long, heavy leg rested itself awkwardly on top of Ryoma's. A feeling of awkwardness came over Ryoma as a long snoring breath came from beside him. He looked diagonally, upwards, towards where the sound was being emited, there he saw Momoshiro fast asleep. Looking back down he saw a hand half-rested on his senpai's stomach, the arm seemed to be itching to stretch out across the bed, but was subconsciously held back. Momoshiro was trying very hard not to take over all the space, he probably was only half-asleep, but considering it, Ryoma concluded that it was hard to tell.
Something violet glinted and Ryoma was caught off-guard by an open eye; may be he was thinking too hard? His head ached, so it was quite a strain.
"Hgnn... Echizen, you're awake." Momoshiro groaned as he reached up with his itching arm to scratch his head, odd water droplets spraying as he absent-mindedly gave his spikey hair a fast, but light brush over its tips.
'Wet dog,' Ryoma thought to himself with a hint of disgust, glaring at Momoshiro as he yawned. Momoshiro sat up and looked over at him and he immediately switched back to a more neutral expression, though his large eyes still bore a deep hole, making Momoshiro feel uncomfortable.
"You, feeling any better?" Momoshiro asked slowly. "I mean, you were pretty bad, when you collapsed I mean! I carried you-!" He then explained hurriedly.
"Hm." Replied Ryoma, showing little interest in the explaination.
Momoshiro looked down to distract his gaze, and caught sight of his stray leg, still laid out over Ryoma's. He snatched it back, blushing and directing an apologetic grin at the younger boy. Receiving no reply, his smile faded to a puzzled look.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
"Great. Then-"
"My hair's still wet." Ryoma stared out blankly at the wall opposite him.
"Ah! Well, there's a towel-!" Momoshiro said enthusiastically, reaching out to grab it, only to realise Ryoma was partly sitting on it, since he had sat up too. He blushed and looked away.
"Hmph."
There was an awkward silence.
"If you got up, I could use the towel to dry your hair for you..." Momoshiro offered.
Without a word, Ryoma shuffled forward on the bed, allowing Momoshiro access to the towel. Assuming this was a yes, Momoshiro took the towel, and sitting himself behind the other boy's smaller body, his legs hanging off the edge, cautiously placed the towel over Ryoma's head. With no objections he started to rub with the towel until he felt the fabric become damp. He held the towel on his lap as he admired his work.
"Better?" He asked.
There was another moment of silence, and Momoshiro could almost feel the tense atmosphere on his aching limbs. He really quite disliked how Ryoma took control of every situation they were alone in. No matter how it seemed to on-lookers, Momoshiro knew that everything depended on whether Ryoma spoke, and what he did say when he spoke. Then there was the complicated calculations of the replies and come backs you'd make in return, how Ryoma reacted to those, if he did; the whole thing made his head hurt more than that time Inui tried making alcoholic juice!
"I'm still cold, Momo-senpai."
Momoshiro was snapped out of his thoughts by a trembling tone of voice. The shock took him back a bit, he was used to Ryoma sounding harsh and too mature; not cute and submissive. Or at least his brain told him it was submissive, which then led to a conspiracy of fooling him into a particular position in time for a family member to walk in and then seeing eachother would be-
A small hand clutched a handful of his shirt and large gold eyes stared up at him. Another hand moved across and up his right thigh. Momoshiro could feel his heart racing now, and his face turning red. Was it the damp from the rain or sweat on his face? Was this leading up to a hot and passionate kiss? No, Momo, don't go that far just yet.
His lips quivered and he put a hand on the other boy's back, in return Ryoma moved himself onto Momoshiro's lap and started using the most helpless, desperate puppy eyes Momoshiro had ever seen. Was the humidity condenser on the fritz or was it him? Boy, is it hard to breathe right all of a sudden. Dokidokidoki. Damn, he's so close. Those lips-
Momoshiro leaned in to meet them.
"Mada mada dane." He was greeted by a cruel smirk.
Momoshiro gritted his teeth, glaring down menacingly and suddenly found himself feeling like he was lost in a blizzard, and that that blizzard was somehow some little brat's fault entirely. The little brat snuggled against his now-fairly-damp shirt and closed his eyes.
"Uaa~" Ryoma yawned cutely, "oyasumi." He nuzzled close against the older boy's warmth.
"W-wait, what?!" Momoshiro was in the mood to bite heads, not forget the whole tease and say 'oh look how cute'.
"Tired. Anyway, I'd rather sleep with a wet dog than kiss its slobbery maw."
Momoshiro sighed, "I suppose I could let it slide, just this once. But who's idea was it to play in the rain?"
"... Yours, senpai." Came a yawned reply with added nestling.
"R-really? I thou-"
"Yours. Senpai."
Two fools playing in the rain, or one fool playing with a wet dog - what difference is there?
I still don't like the last sentence, but otherwise this would be one of 234234802948 fanfics of mine to end with no conclusion.
