The Games Shinigami Play

Disclaimer: I don’t own Watari, Tatsumi, or any of the other Yami no Matsuei boys. This makes me sad, because Watari could really help me with my homework.

Merry Christmas Part the First, psychoteffy! One smutty fic down, four to go.

The Games Shinigami Play

Tatsumi peered carefully around the wall, pistol held close to his chest. The enemy was close. Tatsumi could almost hear him breathe. Yes, the enemy was close, and the enemy was armed and dangerous. The enemy knew him well. Fortunately, he knew his opponent at least as well as his opponent knew him, if not better. He would strike soon…soon…

He heard a faint noise behind him, and whirled—just in time to receive a point-blank shot to the chest. As he fell backwards, his mind shrieked denial—how could they have known his location?! He hit the floor, and looked up…into a pair of huge golden eyes atop the wall. Aerial reconnaissance! He’d forgotten to check for that stupid owl.

Watari and Tsuzuki were doing what he privately dubbed “the baka dance” around him, waving their laser pistols in victory. Tatsumi sat up, rubbing the ankle he’d twisted when he’d turned around too fast. Hisoka had picked his way across the laser tag arena from the “dead box” at the other end, and was shaking his head at the two idiots and saying something about cheating. Hisoka had been taken out early on, and now Tatsumi knew why. Watari’s owl 003 was a formidable advantage. Tatsumi was so used to seeing her perched on Watari’s shoulder that he hadn’t thought to ban her from the laser tag arena.

Well, that was a mistake he wouldn’t make twice…well, unless he was on Watari’s team, in which case 003 went from unfair to advantageous. As a matter of fact, Tatsumi thought that he would suggest that team swap. They still had this arena rented for half an hour, and he couldn’t punt 003 out into the lobby now—owls, no matter how small and cute, were not allowed into most businesses, and the clerks had believed 003 to be an unusual hair accessory when she’d ridden in here on top of Watari’s head. So, if he couldn’t disable Watari’s advantage, he might as well join him. Besides, Hisoka and Tsuzuki would probably enjoy working together. ~Probably, my ass,~ Tatsumi thought in a burst of cynicism. ~They’ll probably lose because they stopped to make out in some dark little corner.~

Tatsumi tried to remember whose brilliant idea this “team building exercise” had been. God only knew that Tsuzuki and Hisoka didn’t need it—if they were any more of a team, they’d be conjoined twins. He and Watari weren’t usually paired up together…~Awww, sorry about that, are we? You don’t get nearly enough time to watch his ass, do you, Tatsu-chan?~ the little voice in his head that usually spoke uncomfortable truth mocked. He told it to silence itself. It snickered rudely at him.

Anyway, the only reason he’d gone for it was because the other three had been willing to pay out of pocket. He’d been dragged along at the last minute, and Watari had even offered to pay for him as an apology. Tatsumi had refused. Letting Watari pay for him had felt too much like Watari was taking him out on a date. ~Like you wouldn’t want to go out with him,~ the little voice needled him again. ~I betcha he’d let you get to third base on the first date.~

That brought up a mental image of Watari, face flushed, glasses sliding down his nose, lab coat and sweater off, legs spread invitingly…

Tatsumi forced down Masturbatory Fantasy #453 (part b), and straightened his tie. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and attempted to stand, tentatively putting weight on the twisted ankle. It held his weight, but it ached. It’d be fine with a bit of rest. But first, it was payback time, at least for half of the dream team over there.

“Let’s switch off team members. Tsuzuki, Hisoka, you two work together. Watari, you’ll be with me,” Tatsumi said in a brisk, no-nonsense tone that clashed badly with his shiny black laser pistol and detector vest. Tsuzuki looked like he wanted to protest, then Hisoka gave him a LOOK and he went to the younger man’s side without argument. ~Damn, he is WHIPPED,~ the voice in Tatsumi’s head observed. He agreed with it for once.

Watari bounced over to Tatsumi’s side and grinned at him. Tatsumi carefully avoided thinking that Watari was cute when he smiled, and nodded brusquely at him. The scientist was without his lab coat for once, as the vest wouldn’t fit over it. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying this idiocy. Maybe stupid team building exercises weren’t so bad after all, if they brought out a dazzling smile like that…

Tatsumi slapped his mind out of the gutter as it started listing places it wanted those smiling lips to go. He hoped Watari hadn’t seen his eyes glaze over. He started walking in a random direction, looking confident. Watari trailed after him, 003 flitting along behind on silent wings.

As they made their way through the mazelike interior of the laser tag arena, Tatsumi wondered what Hisoka and Tsuzuki were up to. A smoochathon, probably. It’d make them easy to sneak up on. The thought that he wouldn’t mind getting into a make out session with Watari fluttered across his mind. He ignored it with the ease of long practice.

He’d been resisting his baser urges for a long time, especially where certain blonde scientists were concerned. The burning desire to perpetrate naughtinesses on Watari’s pale, slender, dead sexy body was just something he filed away for later. It wasn’t like he had a snowball’s chance in hell with Watari anyway. Watari seemed to get more turned on by his experiments than other people. Tsuzuki had his Hisoka. Poor old dependable Tatsumi had his right hand. Afterlife sucked. He was used to it by now.

Having found a good alcove to hide in, Tatsumi glanced at 003, now perched on her master’s shoulder. “Can you send her to find them?” he whispered to Watari. Watari nodded, murmured something to the fluffy little bird, and watched as she flew away. Then there was nothing to do except listen, and wait.

****

Watari snarled internally with frustration at the handsome man in front of him. He’d tried every method short of semaphore of sending “come-get-me” signals at Tatsumi, and all of them had failed. It seemed the man found his account books more interesting than human contact. Watari was starting to wonder if a huge heap of money was Tatsumi’s version of a wet dream.

Actually, Watari was getting damn grumpy. He’d wondered for a while if Tatsumi was strictly straight, but he didn’t really get that vibe off of him. His gaydar was rarely wrong, and Watari trusted it, but the man was driving him to distraction. Tall, thin build, with intense deep blue eyes behind metal-framed lenses, and looking like sex on strudel in a suit, Tatsumi was the kind of guy who had made him melt into a puddle when he’d been alive. Now, it was twice as bad.

Watari had very few companionship options, and two of them had closed when Tsuzuki and Hisoka had paired off. It was Tatsumi or nothing, but he was so oblivious that Watari was starting to feel like he could strip naked, write “Take me now, Tatsumi!” on his chest in chocolate syrup, and sprawl across Tatsumi’s desk, only to get a brusque, “Get off my account books; I have work to do,” in return.

Watari watched Tatsumi through a fringe of blonde hair. Tatsumi was checking his laser pistol like it was real gun and he was about to go into an afterlife-or-death fight. So serious all the time. Watari smiled. He was cute, even when he was busy making Watari want to strangle him into unconsciousness and do bad things to his insensible form. Watari wondered how Tatsumi would react if he pounced on him and kissed him right now. He’d tried almost everything else. But it would be…awkward…if Tatsumi took it badly. They still had to work together, no matter what happened in their personal life.

He’d told 003 to take her time coming back if Tsuzuki and Hisoka were playing tonsil hockey and unlikely to move. He’d wanted to do something about his personal situation with Tatsumi. But now…he wasn’t sure what. Tatsumi was charmingly oblivious to everything Watari had tried so far. It almost felt like he was being deliberately oblivious, as a matter of fact. Every now and then, Watari would get flicker of SOMETHING from the shadow master, but it would be gone too fast for Watari to be sure what it was, buried under that sober mask.

Watari’s eyes narrowed, glasses flashing in the dim light of the arena as he raised his head to watch Tatsumi’s limping pacing. If his suspicions were correct, jumping Tatsumi’s bones would be the best thing possible. If they were wrong, it would be a disaster. Time to decide, because he was sick of waiting. He was going to do something today, here on Earth, where there were no convenient piles of work or minor office crises to distract his quarry. Even as he phrased it that way in his head, he realized that he’d made his decision. Watari licked his lips. Time for an experiment. He didn’t know if he’d come up with a magical love potion or blow his lab sky-high, but it needed to be done.

****

Tatsumi looked up for the fourth time. Where was that damn bird? She could have flown a full lap around the arena in this time. His ankle was starting to ache atrociously, and being completely alone with Watari was making him think thoughts that sent his blood rushing southward in ways that were getting increasingly harder (no pun intended) to hide. When Watari pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on and started wandering over, Tatsumi had to quickly do Tsuzuki’s expense accounts in his head to force his burgeoning erection to go down. Phew. Tatsumi had never thought he’d be grateful for Tsuzuki’s overspending, but right now it was a lifesaver.

Watari stepped in front of him. Tatsumi looked down, expecting to hear a strategy or a possible explanation for 003’s tardiness. Watari’s eyes were shining so strangely…Tatsumi blinked, opened his mouth to ask what was wrong…and suddenly Watari grabbed his shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed him hard. Watari’s tongue shoved into his mouth, hot and sweet. All that blood he’d just forced out of his cock returned with a vengeance, waving tiny flags of victory. His knees almost gave out. His laser pistol hit the floor with a clatter.

Watari was an unfairly good kisser…so mean, to do this to him when he was in public(ish) and couldn’t throw Watari down on the nearest flat surface and enact all of his favorite fantasies on that pretty body. Watari’s hands slid down Tatsumi’s body and came to rest on his ass. After a couple of test squeezes, Watari had the audacity to goose him, making Tatsumi break the kiss with a muffled yelp. He glared at Watari, who was looking distressingly composed except for the flush running across his cheekbones. Tatsumi knew he had to look like he’d been hit in the back of the head with a board. Watari was grinning. This time, Tatsumi actually permitted himself to think that Watari was adorable when he smiled. There were a lot of promises in that smile.

One of Watari’s hands wandered along Tatsumi’s hipbone, tracing its way down to the large bulge in the front of Tatsumi’s dress pants. He gave it a meaningful squeeze that cleared up any lingering questions the shadow user might have had about Watari’s intentions. Watari leaned closer and whispered a feathery “Later, when we get home, we’ll finish this,” into Tatsumi’s ear. All Tatsumi could do was nod.

003 took her sweet time getting back, and Tatsumi was grateful for it. If she’d been any quicker, Tatsumi wouldn’t have been able to walk. It took most of his willpower to get his body to behave itself. He ached, quite literally, for Watari. He hadn’t had a case of blue balls this bad in decades. Evil blonde bastard. Watari and 003 talked briefly, and confirmed Tatsumi’s earlier surmise that Tsuzuki and Hisoka were getting hot and heavy in a secluded alcove across the arena. Actually, 003 said that they should probably break it up soon if they didn’t want to catch the pair in the middle of something more serious than kissing. Damn exhibitionists. Tatsumi swore that Hisoka got off from persuading Tsuzuki to have sex in public areas. That kid was a pervert far, far beyond his years. Some things just transcended age.

Tatsumi and Watari nabbed the pair just before Hisoka got Tsuzuki’s pants all the way undone. Watari smirked and chuckled at Tsuzuki’s jump of surprise when his vest abruptly lit up and started beeping. Tatsumi narrowly resisted the urge to do the same. He’d lose all of Tsuzuki’s respect if Tsuzuki saw him laugh. Hisoka swore at them both, Watari did the baka dance by himself, and they checked out of the arena and hopped on the bus. They’d been planning on getting food, but right now, Tatsumi wasn’t hungry (not for food, at any rate) and it looked like Hisoka and Tsuzuki were of a similar mindset, as they were barely keeping their behavior within the bounds of decorum and were earning some very odd looks. They were also giving Tatsumi…ideas. Maybe they should have just teleported. Tatsumi sighed. If they decided to eat, this was going to be the longest meal of his life.

Fortunately for Tatsumi’s overstrained patience, Tsuzuki’s famous sweet tooth seemed to be held in check by his boyfriend squirming in his lap like he wanted to pole dance on his dick. Tatsumi had been to the point of “I don’t know them, really I don’t.” Watari just looked amused. Frankly, Watari was past amused and was looking like the cat that ate the canary, and kept giving him smug little looks that were laced with just enough hunger that Tatsumi was being driven half-mad by them. When Tsuzuki hurriedly suggested that they just go home, Tatsumi shrugged and agreed, careful not too look too eager. Watari simply grinned.

****

“Back to Jyuuocho at last!” Watari said, stretching in that way he had that showed off all of his body’s good points. He was just teasing poor Tatsumi now. The falling cherry blossoms swirled around in a soft breeze, his lab coat fluttered, and Tatsumi came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Watari’s chest and nuzzling Watari’s neck. My, my, aggression, even marginal aggression, from Tatsumi, was somewhat unexpected. Then again, considering how strongly he’d responded to Watari’s kiss, maybe it wasn’t so unexpected after all. Watari leaned back and very nearly purred, “My place or yours?”

Tatsumi’s arms tightened almost convulsively around Watari, and he growled, “Mine,” before biting Watari’s neck. Externally, Watari sighed in pleasure and pressed his body even closer to Tatsumi’s. Internally, he was doing a full-fledged victory dance complete with fans. Oh my, Tatsumi did have a bit of an aggressive, possessive streak in him. It was cute. Watari would have to see how long it lasted.

A flicker of power later, they appeared in Tatsumi’s kitchen. Watari looked around. The floors, tables, countertops, and even the walls shone with the level of cleanliness that only a long term obsessive-compulsive can achieve. Everything was neat, tidy, and organized. Watari smiled, and was suddenly glad they hadn’t gone to his place—Tatsumi would probably have had a twitchy fit, and started CLEANING. Watari liked his clutter. He knew exactly where everything was. He doubted Tatsumi would believe him, but he had all of those heaps of stuff age dated and stratified so that he could find any item based on when he’d seen it last. It was a good filing system, and it worked for him. Tatsumi, on the other hand, probably had his cooking utensils alphabetized. Ah well. Time to see if the secretary had black satin sheets. He let Tatsumi lead him towards the bedroom, stopping every few steps for a kiss or a caress.

Watari wasn’t far off. They were black silk. Ho ho, it seemed that Tatsumi the Ice Prince liked his creature comforts after all. The delicious mental image of a naked Tatsumi sprawled on those sheets made Watari want to transform fantasy into reality as fast as possible. He kissed Tatsumi hungrily, grinding his hips against Tatsumi’s in a very suggestive manner. Tatsumi’s breath was starting to come in short, hiccupping pants. Watari wondered if Tatsumi knew that he sounded so cute when he made those noises. He was seriously testing Watari’s willpower. If he wasn’t such a firm believer in foreplay and lots of it, he’d have spread-eagled Tatsumi on the bed by now.

Watari’s right hand snaked down to knead Tatsumi’s rather large erection through his pants. Dress pants were so convenient for this—the fabric was thin enough that almost all of the sensation got through. A little too much sensation, apparently—he gave Tatsumi an extra-firm squeeze anticipatory of unzipping those neatly ironed pants and getting a good look at what he’d been torturing for the past few minutes, felt the cloth-wrapped cock in his hand suddenly twitch hard, and heard Tatsumi’s shuddering gasp. Tatsumi blushed beet-red, and it didn’t take an applied scientist to figure out what had just happened.

Oh dear. Apparently, it had been a long, long, LONG time for Tatsumi. Tatsumi started stammering an apology (oh, hearing the same man who regularly gave him lengthy and eloquent lectures on his rising lab costs unable to get out a complete sentence was sweet), but Watari pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhh, Ichiro,” he murmured, silently savoring the ability to use Tatsumi’s first name with impunity. The finger that had been against Tatsumi’s lips drifted up to hook his glasses and pull them off. “Such pretty eyes…” Watari whispered. Those gorgeous eyes looked confused, needy, worried, and…something else. Watari wasn’t sure what that something else was, but he wasn’t ready to deal with it right now. He took refuge in physicality, standing on tiptoe to kiss Tatsumi’s forehead. He set Tatsumi’s glasses on the bedside table, and put his own next to them, keeping his other arm wrapped around Tatsumi’s slim waist. He looked again into those impossibly blue eyes…he was drowning in them…this was getting past “just sex” and into some dangerous territory…

Watari blinked, shook his head slightly, and grinned, breaking the spell those eyes were weaving. He kissed Tatsumi on the lips again, and murmured a breathy, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Tatsumi’s eyes widened as his mind hit the same place Watari’s had wandered off to a while ago. The grin got bigger, and eviler, and Watari dropped to his knees. A fast tug separated Tatsumi’s shirt from his pants, making Watari’s job easier. He flicked the button at the top of Tatsumi’s fly open with careless ease, and unzipped the slightly soggy pants.

Watari hooked his fingers into the waistband of Tatsumi’s briefs, and silently prayed that he hadn’t lost the knack he used to have for getting underwear, pants, and shoes off in one quick motion. Tatsumi was positioned correctly, bed behind him…Watari yanked. Tatsumi flopped backwards onto the mattress with a startled “oof” as Watari chuckled. Some things were like learning to ride a bike, you never forgot how. Watari’s Quick Strip™ seemed to be one of them. Tatsumi still had his trouser socks on, but that was more than okay with Watari. On the rare occasions when he’d had sex with women, he’d discovered that pantyhose, especially knee-highs and thigh-highs, were a huge turn-on for him. Trouser socks, especially silk ones like these, had nearly the same effect, and Tatsumi had some nice legs on him.

Watari crawled forward, and started applying his tongue to the sticky, salty residue that was covering Tatsumi’s still-flaccid dick and inner thighs. Tatsumi gasped. “Don’t…no…stop…too sensitive…” Watari had known that this close to his first climax, Tatsumi was going to be sensitive to the point of pain. Poor Tatsumi. But Watari was disinclined to wait, and his tongue would probably get that soft flesh hard again that much faster. Indeed, Tatsumi’s body seemed to be striving in that general direction again already, biology be damned. Watari squirmed out of his own too-tight pants, sighing internally with relief and giving his poor, neglected member a few comforting strokes in between licks. Tatsumi, panting and sprawled on the bed in just his shirt and tie, was certainly a sight that brought great joy to that part of his anatomy. The flush on those high cheekbones, those lovely dark blue eyes glazed over, long fingers spasming into the sheets, swelling erection coaxed up by Watari’s ministrations…oh, a thing of beauty was a joy forever, and Tatsumi with a hard-on certainly was beautiful.

Now, what to do with that loveliness? Watari’s (admittedly brief) survey of the bedroom had turned up nothing that could be used as lube. It helped that the bedroom was as neat as the rest of the apartment, with a bare minimum of things lying on dressers or tables. For all Watari knew, Tatsumi had a porn store’s worth of lube in his closet. Watari was disinclined to go look. Other people’s closets were scary, scary places. He wrapped his lips around Tatsumi’s dick as a distraction and fumbled in his lab coat pockets, searching for something, anything, that would be better than spit…

His hand closed around a familiar tube with a distinctive cap. Glassware lubricant. The stuff was standard issue for any lab, and tended to spend a lot of time in use. It helped glass parts make an airtight seal, and greatly aided in the insertion of fragile glass tubes into rubber stoppers that were a size too small. Chemically neutral, nontoxic, and nonirritating to the best of Watari’s knowledge (as the stuff was usually applied with bare fingers), it was a perfect choice. The Lab Gods had blessed him. Afterlife was good.

Watari took silent pride in his ability to multitask as he licked and sucked Tatsumi’s now fully-erect cock while covering his fingers with glassware lubricant. He thought that he missed his fingers a couple of times—he felt a bit bad; Tatsumi would never get this stuff out of the carpet. Oh well.

Now came decision time—was he going to fuck Tatsumi, or was he going to let Tatsumi fuck him? He didn’t really care either way, as long as there was Tatsumi and nookie involved. He mentally flipped a coin, and decided to go for the latter of the two options. If Tatsumi was going to freak out on him, it was less likely if he was the giving partner instead of the receiving. But Tatsumi had been almost completely submissive and reactionary, content to let Watari do things to him rather than the other way around. Some people were like that their first time with a new partner, especially if that partner happened to be very dominant (as Watari was currently being, fu fu fu). That meant Watari was going to have to do everything himself. Sigh.

Watari curled his tongue around the head of Tatsumi’s penis thoughtfully. Tatsumi moaned. He hadn’t managed to get out a coherent word in several minutes. Watari gave him another reassuring lick. Maybe the reason why Tatsumi wasn’t doing much except twitching was because Watari had completely melted that big brain of his. Watari sincerely hoped not, because having Tatsumi as his Love-Love Slave was far less appealing if Tatsumi couldn’t speak intelligently. Besides, if what Watari considered to be a minor distraction leading up to the main event had melted his brain, actual sex was going to cause his head to explode. Watari sighed around his mouthful, and reached slick fingers behind himself. The penalty of being the initiator of everything—you had to prep yourself. One finger, two, pushing, stretching…how many times had he done this while masturbating, fantasizing about Tatsumi? Too many to count. He wondered if Tatsumi had ever done the same. That thought was a huge turn on, and Watari wished for a free hand to stroke himself, because damn if the mental image of Tatsumi jerking off wasn’t hotter than wasabi on rice. He needed his unoccupied hand to brace himself in this rather awkward position, though.

~Fuck it, I’m relaxed enough,~ Watari thought. ~If it hurts, I’ll deal with it.~ He slipped his fingers out quickly, and dropped Tatsumi’s cock from his mouth. Tatsumi groaned in disappointment, and then gasped in surprise as Watari started rubbing glassware lubricant up and down his shaft. ~I’m never going to be able to use this stuff with a straight face again…~

When Watari judged that Tatsumi was lubed up enough that there were going to be no problems whatsoever, he tossed the now much emptier tube off to the side, and stood. Watari’s lab coat slithered to the floor, his sweater took a more creative exit from the proximity as he threw it onto the dresser across the room. He surveyed his wide-eyed and quivering “territory” with a slow smile. Flushed face covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Mussed dark hair that was usually so neat. Loosened tie, white dress shirt still on but rumpled. Long, slender body, wire-taut with desire and arousal. Long, slender dick, looking very happy to see him. Long, slender, trouser-sock-clad legs dangling off the edge of the bed, toes curled tightly. Tatsumi was staring at Watari’s naked body like he couldn’t get enough. It was very flattering, in its way. But while staring was nice, nookie awaited. Watari pounced.

In an instant, Watari was straddling Tatsumi’s hips. Tatsumi looked like he’d died (again) and gone to heaven. Watari smiled at him, and lowered himself slowly down, guiding Tatsumi’s rigid cock to the right spot with gentle fingers and then slowly, slowly in. Tatsumi’s hands clenched into fists as he visibly tried to hold onto his self-control. Oh, God, but he was beautiful. In, in…there was so much of him to go inside, oh God, he felt so good…Watari found himself biting his lower lip to keep from coming all over Tatsumi’s shirt before they even got properly started. Finally, Watari settled down onto Tatsumi’s hips, completely impaled. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes…and felt a touch on his own perilously aroused manhood. It was a tentative brush at first; when that drew a gasp, the touch got firmer and started stroking rhythmically. Watari’s eyes shot open. Tatsumi was stroking him with strong fingers, and whispering his name like a mantra.

“Ta…Tatsumi…if you don’t stop that, this is going to be over before it begins,” Watari panted. Not fair, for Tatsumi to turn the tables on him this late in the game. The fingers did stop moving, though they didn’t remove themselves from their playground. Tatsumi actually managed a smirk. Watari growled a little in the back of his throat, and rocked his hips. It was Tatsumi’s turn to gasp. Watari grinned fiercely. Then Tatsumi did the unexpected—he used his shadow abilities to flip them and toss them into the center of the bed before Watari could do more than wriggle once. Watari gasped, the sudden change in angle putting intense pressure on his prostate, making him tremble on the verge of orgasm. Tatsumi’s tie was brushing Watari’s chest, and Tatsumi had hooked his elbows behind Watari’s knees. Watari was folded almost in half as Tatsumi pulled halfway out, then slammed home.

“AH! Fuck, Tatsumi, oh God…” Watari moaned eloquently.

“Good?” Tatsumi purred. Bastard, making Watari think that his brain was melted so that he could sneak up on him and do this. Despite Tatsumi being a bastard, that didn’t stop Watari from desperately wanting Tatsumi to pound him into the mattress. He could have killed him when he stopped moving, except that would have meant no more sex.

****

“Again…more…nnn, Tatsumi…”

Tatsumi smiled, and complied with his lover’s wishes. Another thrust, another cry of pleasure from Watari. Tatsumi was startled when Watari grabbed his tie and yanked him down for a hard, hungry kiss. He’d nearly forgotten that he had it on. When the kiss broke, he looked down at the lovely creature in his bed, blonde hair fanned across his pillow, pale skin contrasting with black sheets, looking like a different person entirely from the weird scientist he dealt with on a day-to-day basis. His amber eyes were glazed with lust. He was gorgeous.

His restraint was crumbling. Tatsumi wanted to fuck Watari senseless as badly as Watari wanted to be fucked senseless. At the next pleading moan of “More,” from Watari, Tatsumi started pounding him in earnest. It only took a double handful of thrusts before Watari was clutching the back of his shirt and shrieking his name, hot, thick seed painting its way across Tatsumi’s stomach and dripping down onto Watari’s squirming form. As Watari’s body spasmed with his climax, Tatsumi felt the writhing muscles that sheathed his cock squeezing…squeezing…Tatsumi let himself tip over the edge, groaning Watari’s name. After the last shuddering moments of his second orgasm of the day, Tatsumi slumped down atop Watari, feeling the cooling stickiness on his stomach, feeling his body shake with reaction, feeling Watari’s panting breaths. His nose was buried in long, sweet-smelling blonde hair, and he was soaked in sweat. Tatsumi heard a soft sigh, and pulled his softening dick out of Watari, rolling onto his back. Watari snuggled up to his side, murmuring sleepily.

Tatsumi stroked Watari’s hair wonderingly. He wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but Watari had wormed his scientisty little way into his heart as well as regions southward. Tatsumi swallowed. He didn’t want to spend another night alone—he’d spent too many of them that way already. But…if Watari didn’t feel the same…Tatsumi had no right to force him. For all he knew, Watari considered him as fuckbuddy material and nothing else. At least they were still friends. Friendship was better than nothing.

Watari seemed to be drifting off to sleep, and Tatsumi’s forgotten twisted ankle was starting to throb like it was making up for lost time. He eased his arm out from under Watari’s head, and carefully slipped out of bed. He retrieved his glasses from the bedside table, and limped towards the bathroom, unbuttoning his sweat-and-semen-sticky shirt, peeling off his trouser socks, and pulling off his much-abused tie. He threw them in their appropriate hampers (the “Dry Clean Only” hamper was getting a bit full, Tatsumi would have to do laundry soon) and determined that the ankle wrap and cold packs were in their appropriate place before getting in the shower. Clean first, then ankle.

Tatsumi had just finished shampooing his hair when he heard the bathroom door click open. A fluffy blonde head peeked around the shower curtain. Tatsumi blinked soggily at Watari. Watari appeared to be enjoying the view, but also looked like he had something on his mind. Tatsumi opened his mouth to inquire as to Watari’s reason to be peeking in on him in the shower, but Watari beat him to it.

“Ichiro, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

Tatsumi knew that he had to look like he’d been hit in the back of the head by a board for the second time today.

“I mean, I know it’s traditional to ask somebody out before having sex rather than after, but…”

Tatsumi closed his mouth before he started inhaling water, and managed to say, “Sure,” in an even voice.

Watari pounced on him and kissed him.

****

003 hooted contentedly from the back of the sole chair at Tatsumi’s small kitchen table. Even her rather silly pet scientist got some things right every now and then. The blue-eyed one was a good mate for her pet, and happy pets did fewer stupid things, which meant less work for their owners. Maybe she should start a breeding program…they’d have cute chicks.

There was a crash and a yelp of pain from the bathroom as Tatsumi’s ankle went from “twisted” to “badly sprained, possibly broken” due to a slip in the bathtub as a direct result of pouncing by said pet scientist. 003 fluffed her feathers and sighed as a stream of apologies trickled out of the bathroom. Maybe that breeding program would be a bad idea. She had her wings full watching one Watari already.

003 listened as Watari wrapped Tatsumi’s ankle, apologizing profusely, only to have his apologies stopped by a gentle kiss and an ”It’s alright.” Content that the situation was rectified, 003 tucked her head under her wing and went to sleep. Silly humans.

****

Author’s Notes: I apologize for the title. It sucks. Yes, glassware lubricant actually exists. I’ve used the stuff. This is my first posted lemon. Wee. Please tell me what you thought, partially because I’m a praise-whore, but also because I seek to better myself and my smut writing, because I have a DREAM. Someday, I want to write smut as well as Scribblemoose and Paxnirvana and all the other pr0n superstars. Right now, however, it tends to go like this:
Step 1. I write pr0n.
Step 2. My roommate, PlotbunnyTiff, reads it and either tells me she hates me or that blah, blah, and blah need fixing.
Step 3. I send it out to the rest of my friends (or show them when they come over). Alucardblue goes “I don’t read this yaoi crap!” and reads it anyway. Ashe Rhyder hits me for sending a genophobe pr0n, and deletes it. Psychoteffy goes “Write more!”
Step 4. I feel 1337.
Step 5. I read a Paxnirvana fic.
Step 6. “I am a hack! Must…edit…”
Step 7. I am beaten to within an inch of my life by PlotbunnyTiff and told, “It’s fine! LEAVE IT.” I cry, and continue to believe that I am a hack.