Victim

Disclaimer: No, I do *not* own Digimon, and it will be a cold day in Hell before I do. I am not getting any profit from this, I do it because I love it.

Spoilers: Yeah right, this is smut.

Warnings: Boy masturbating while thinking about another boy. Yum. Mild Angst.

Rating: R
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Daisuke slammed the door shut behind him as he came home, not caring that he startled his mother and Jun who were sitting on the couch. As he fumed down the hall towards his room, Daisuke ignored their inquiries as to why he was home so early. He was too distracted to concentrate on anything other than what had happened.

When he finally reached the safety of his own room, he closed the door quietly before sagging against it. Daisuke reached his hand up, and gingerly rubbed his chin, wincing as he discovered how sore tilltill was. “Stupid Takeru,” Daisuke muttered, trying to make himself angry. The blond hadn’t had to take his joke seriously, Daisuke thought bitterly. he was too uptight. *He* was the one always picking the fights anyway. It was rarely Daisuke’s fault. Daisuke was just an innocent bystander. A hapless victim of fate.

Daisuke pushed himself off the door and started to undress; throwing his cloths on the ground as he let his annoyancew. Hw. He didn’t even remember exactly what Takeru and he had yelled at each other that had sent them hurtling forward for the others throat.

Daisuke sighed, flopping onto his bed. Half of the time Daisuke didn’t remember what was said during their verbal sparing matches. Honestly, Daisuke didn’t care what they fought about as long as he got to touch Takeru in some way.

Here he was, a bruised and battered boy, willing to throw his pride to the wind just for the chance to be near his rival. The rival he was supposed to be fighting for the attentions of a gir wou wouldn’t even consider pursuing, if not for the fact that Takeru wanted to pursue her. The only part wrong with Daisuke’s master plan, the teenager figured, was that as Hikari’s feelings for Takeru became more concrete, the blond felt less of a need to rise to Daisuke’s bait. As a result, Daisuke was forced to further extremes. Which also meant he was more likely to come home sore after getting his ass kicked.

Daisuke didn’t mind though, as long as he got Takeru to look at him, acknowledge him. Takeru might not give a damn about the brunette’s paltry existence, but the perimeters of Daisuke’s crush allowed for that, and even forgave it.

Daisuke had it bad for Takeru.

Rolling over, Daisuke closed his eyes as he rubbed a spot on his stomach where Takeru had gotten in another punch, and let the memory of the evenings earlier events continue.

Whatever they had said to one another, it sure had been explosive ain tin time honouredditidition, they’d both ended up on the ground rolling around and over each other. It seemed as if Daisuke’s fantasies were finally coming true, when Ken and Hikari had finally managed to break Takeru and Daisuke apart, the two had only paused for a second before lunging at each other again. Only this time, Takeru had been faster; and managed to land a glancing blow that had been strong enough to send Daisuke stumbling backwards into a table supporting several water jugs. Needless to say, upon Daisuke’s impact with it, the table had collapsed under the teen’s weight; upsetting the jugs, soaking Daisuke and the floor completely and attracting quite a bit of unwanted attention.

Daisuke had realized two things while lying soaking wet on top of that collapsed table, staring up at Takeru. The first was that he had a raging erection. The second was the reason for his animosity: he had about the worlds biggest crush on the one person in the entire space-time continuum who hated his guts and thought Daisuke was after his girl. That was about the time Daisuke had made a break for it, running top speed out of the club and praying no one noticed the bulge in his pants.

So here Daisuke was, lying in his room pining after Takeru, realizing that he was, indeed, hard once again.

Mentally banging his head against some imaginary, non-descript, conveniently hard (ignore the pun) surface, Daisuke slid his hand down his belly and whimpered as it closed around his cock. God he was pathetic. Just thinking about Takeru made him hard. Daisuke began a mental litany of disparaging comments, directed mainly at his lack of willpower and stupidity; with the occasional jibe at his ancestry thrown in just for the hell of it.

He shivered as his thumb flicked over the head, catching the pre cum that beaded there and spreading it over his erection. As he began to pump himself slowly, a picture of Takeru floated through his mind unbidden. Daisuke scrunched up his eyebrows and shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Takeru. Didn’t want to think about their fights. Didn’t want to think about how much the blond didn’t like him. Didn’t want to think about how much that hurt.

Try as he might, though, golden hair, pale ivory skin, and pure blue eyes would not leave him. So, Daisuke settled for thinking about Yamato. Takeru and Yamato were brother’s after all, and looked enough alike that he might be able to keep his mind away from the younger angel.

Content with this plan, Daisuke picked up his pace, rocking his hips gently as he pictured Yamato. Mapping out his features, running over his limbs and skin. Slowly, however, as Daisuke pushed himself closer to climax, the picture in his mind blurred, then changed. Meticulously kept blond hair shortened and became mused, limbs strengthened and grew more muscle, trunk became stouter, shoulders broader, eyes grew larger, and the face younger. Once he realized who the beautiful creature was that had planted itself firmly in his brain, Daisuke groaned in helpless frustration. He couldn’t fight anymore.

He clenched his hand into a fist, jacking himself off at a punishing pace. Daisuke bit the inside of his cheek trying to keep quiet. He was completely gone by this point; all cognitive ability had been lost in the feelings of pressure, heat, and rhythm that were assaulting his throbbing cock. Daisuke dug his heels into the mattress trying to find leverage so his hips could thrust up to meet his hand.

Daisuke came hard, head thrown back and mouth opened in a silent scream. His heart and soul bursting forth as he thrust up one last time. He collapsed onto the bed gasping softly; only now noticing the coppery taste of blood in his mouth from where he’d bitten through the skin of his cheek.

Daisuke lay on his bed, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, flush slowly fading from his cheeks, almost ready to swear he could hear Takeru laughing at him.

Yeah, Daisuke had it bad for Takeru.
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A/N: Well, there it is. There ain’t anymore... for the moment. Still have to decide if I want to turn this into a longer fic. Must ponder this. I don’t have any idea if I used all those semicolons correctly, unf unfortunately, I have a habit of composing run-on sncesnces. Should I make this a multi-chapter thing? If I do I’ll most likely never finish it.