Different | By : Cepheus Category: +. to F > Eyeshield 21 Views: 3521 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield21, nor do I make money out of writing fanfic for it. |
Cepheus: another Eyeshield21 drabble, and again it’s AHiru. Please do enjoy, and if you can drop a review,
you’ll make an authoress happy :)
–––
Summary: Agon likes women. He’d never lower himself to go
with men. And yet he wonders, how would it feel –kissing his lips instead?
––– Different –––
He likes women.
The feeling of
supple lips under his own, of their breasts as he holds them, one for each
hand.
He doesn’t want to
kiss male lips –they look disgusting.
He loves the
feeling of their long legs wrapped around his hips, he likes taking them hard,
plunging deep inside them, only seeking out his own pleasure… he loves the
pursue, the thrill he gets when he courts them, then he loves taking them to
bed, having them all.
Touching a male
body… the mere thought makes him want to vomit. There is nothing attracting in
them. Nothing alluring.
He loves to drop
all of the girls away when he’s done –they cry, they whine, trying to grab his
arm… he loves to show them that after he’s had his fun, they are just trash,
like everybody else.
Agon is happy with
his bitches.
Then, in the crowd,
spiky blond hair pop up from nowhere –pointed ears, eyes open wide, a familiar
cackling…
Agon twitches and
turns to the nearest beautiful girl, starting up his seduction, sure as hell
that he’ll be having some by that evening.
–––
He’s always
wondered how Hiruma’s lips would taste.
The trash
quarterback that more than once has infuriated him, making him grunt and storm away…
it’s always the same question, buried deep inside him, just as deep as he
buries inside the next girl, trying to ignore how his brain pokes him.
When he gropes a
breast, cupping it in his hand, and licks it, his mind wonders how it would feel
to fondle a flat chest –not just an A cup… simply… no female boobs. Flat chest.
When his hands
slither to long, lithe legs, curves and tender skin, his brain wonders how
would it feel, to touch and feel where muscles are instead, and bones.
Plunging inside his
choice–woman, he wonders how would it feel to…
It’s always there.
Agon knows that
he’s not going to be able to ignore this growing impulse any longer.
–––
It’s a blur how
they got there –in the side street, and it’s dark, because the sun doesn’t
reach in the spot they are standing.
All he knows is
that the trash has popped up again, but this time there was no girl to
entertain him; Agon frowns, slamming Hiruma against the wall, and ignores what
he’s trying to say (“what the fuck do you
think you’re doing… filthy bastard–”), because he’s watching those lips of
his.
They are thin, and
they stretch too much, revealing pointed teeth…
Agon dislikes what
he sees.
He hates the blond
trash even more than he hates other trashes. Even more than he hates the fat
trash that made his plans with this
trash vanish.
Those lips open
again, spitting a curse–
Words are muffled
as Agon leans down and eats them away, finally giving in, finally taking his
obsession in his hands –he’s kissing him.
Just as he thought,
the feeling of male lips is different. Rougher, dry. They are thin and not
supple like female ones are, and he frowns, biting down on them. Blood comes
out and he tastes it, ignoring the curses coming out from that mouth.
The body under his hands
is not as round and supple and soft, like a girl’s is, but it’s angled and
hard, and yet –it strangely fits his wandering fingers, tightening and
shivering as he presses against it, mapping it without finesse or gentleness.
The curses and
insults continue, but it’s easy to ignore them, and way easier to stop them
altogether (thrusting one finger inside,
he’s surprised it’s so tight in there, and the heat, and the muscles clenching
around him).
Hiruma grunts, but
his hands are wound tight around Agon’s shoulders, and he’s muttering insults
again, but Agon knows better now.
When he pulls in,
the constriction around his arousal (he
should just ignore it, but he can’t, because it’s him, and he shouldn’t get
aroused like this for a man, but he is, so there is no way he can fake it’s not
there) makes him hiss –reward mostly comes to the groan that he receives,
and it’s from male lips, not a girl’s, but it’s deeply exciting and there is no
denial either.
Does this feel good
for him too?
He shouldn’t care –but
those flushed cheeks, flushed in shame and anger and also in a similar need and
desire and lust… they act like an aphrodisiac, making him harder, and the body
around him stretches and arches.
His own hand moves
down to elicit more sensual sounds, and it doesn’t matter anymore if it’s a
male voice groaning and moaning and panting, and it doesn’t matter if what he’s
grabbing is just like his own, slick with sticky precum,
and hard and erect…
All that matters is
the pleasure he’s gaining, the face of Hiruma as he owns him, controlling
everything he does, pulling deep, deeper than with a woman, deeper than he’s
ever thought about going, and it’s all heat and pleasure and–
Then everything
turns into a blur of movements and thrusting, hands brushing on nipples and
skin, every inch of it under assault and exposure, and no gesture of his is
gentle or comforting –it’s brutal and aggressive and hot.
There are no soft
boobs, there is no tender spot –and yet the contact is satisfying, even more so
since the body under him fights for a control he never had, and bites back just
as hard, and despite the violence, they are both enjoying it greatly.
Everything is
sharper –from the soft slippery sounds of skin flapping against skin to
Hiruma’s lips letting out the most delicious growls, to hands nailing at his
clothed back as he pushes deeper inside…
He’s vaguely aware
that he’s hitting something inside that makes Hiruma lose it and yell hard,
then he’s clenching around his overly aroused erection and he’s coming –and
it’s breathtaking, overwhelming and long.
When he’s back down
to earth, out of the blinding white high, he becomes aware that there are white
stains where Hiruma came on him, all over his shirt, and his branded pants, and
it’s sticky and ugly and never happened with all of his women…
He’s sweating, and
Hiruma is cursing again, now that he regained enough coherence, and cussing
comes easily through swollen, red lips (“F–fucking
Dreads–”) and it’s different from the clingy females he’s had.
It’s different, and
Agon knows he’ll never lower himself to go with men, because they’re trash and
it’s not enjoyable, and he likes women– but Hiruma groans as he shifts, and his
face is still flushed in a post–orgasmic bliss, and he’s still lodged deeply
inside him…
And Agon suddenly
realizes that what he’s got now, he’ll keep. Because he’s a bastard, and a
possessive one, and he does not share.
And it’s quite
sudden to come to terms with the fact that no woman ever had a chance against
that trash fake blond, in the end.
“You’d better
prepare yourself, trash” he hisses, and it comes more like he’s trying to
seduce the guy, whilst he’s not doing that “we barely got started”.
And Hiruma can
barely close his eyes and attempt to curse him out, then Agon is moving again,
hard already, and there are no more words.
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